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Lend You My Skin // [69th Train]
Feb 7, 2015 13:45:48 GMT -5
Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Feb 7, 2015 13:45:48 GMT -5
a note from the desk of
Mace Emberstatt
when you never thought that it could ever get this tough,of District Ten
that's when you feel my kind of love
Mace sat the edge of one of the overstuffed couches, pressing his palms together so hard that his stomach cramped. It was all he could do to keep from shivering. Ten years. Ten years of near abject failure, except for one shining moment. He lifted his grey gaze to Saffron and dropped it almost immediately. He couldn't pretend any more. He had done nothing to bring her home. Her success was one hundred percent attributable to the magic that was Saffron Lowe. He'd thought that he had somehow influenced that magic, somehow cast the spell that brought her to victory. But he'd been only sharing what was rightfully hers for a little while.
The last few months without it had been grey.
It wasn't that they had totally ignored one another. But it was easy to forget to call when he was in Two and she at home. It was easy to keep conversations concise when static crackled between them. Now, sharing a train car, silence stretched between them.
Mace shifted, the couch squeaking. "Olive will be back with them soon," he said, which was stupid, because Saffron already knew that. She already knew a lot of things. But she didn't know everything, which was still the sore spot between them. What had been a theoretical argument had come to shocking reality. In a few moments they would be faced with actual breathing tributes. He couldn't just ignore them.
If being apart for months had reminded Mace of anything, it was that he had gotten very good at asking for forgiveness in the past nine years of dating Julian Bryze.
For the first time all morning, Mace released his hands. He moved quickly, fluidly, like the boy he had once been. When he knelt in front of Saffron, he had no longsword to grasp, no snow to cocoon his knees. He reached at the last second for the nearest vase, plucking a opalescent daisy from the bouquet. He lifted it to her. "Forgive me for what I'm about to."
The last few months without it had been grey.
It wasn't that they had totally ignored one another. But it was easy to forget to call when he was in Two and she at home. It was easy to keep conversations concise when static crackled between them. Now, sharing a train car, silence stretched between them.
Mace shifted, the couch squeaking. "Olive will be back with them soon," he said, which was stupid, because Saffron already knew that. She already knew a lot of things. But she didn't know everything, which was still the sore spot between them. What had been a theoretical argument had come to shocking reality. In a few moments they would be faced with actual breathing tributes. He couldn't just ignore them.
If being apart for months had reminded Mace of anything, it was that he had gotten very good at asking for forgiveness in the past nine years of dating Julian Bryze.
For the first time all morning, Mace released his hands. He moved quickly, fluidly, like the boy he had once been. When he knelt in front of Saffron, he had no longsword to grasp, no snow to cocoon his knees. He reached at the last second for the nearest vase, plucking a opalescent daisy from the bouquet. He lifted it to her. "Forgive me for what I'm about to."
