come home with me . krigel

leon krigel

set fire to the sky watch it burn down

His mind is slow, spinning from the drug they'd put him on to calm his panicked heart and silence his voice; Leon can barely focus on one thing, but he can't stop staring at Nat, at Arissa - his little family, his beloved siblings. All together for what feels like the final fucking time.

Leon can't handle this.

He's never held a life so precious in his two hands, and he really doesn't want the responsibility of bringing his baby brother home. He doesn't know how. Hasn't had the chance to practice long enough, but- Leon wants to shove this stupid victorship into some other idiot's hands and snarl, "Have it, have all of it, I don't want- I can't do any of this."

If only giving it away was that easy. If only he could.

He remembers vividly each moment of his Games, and the Games that followed; remembers what his tributes looked like dead, remembers what the others looked like dead, remembers their dead fucking eyes and all of the dead stupid things they did when they're on the floor or sleeping or even existing. It's all too stupidly easy to picture his baby brother in their place, and his heart hurts and his head hurts and everything hurts.

Leon can't bring Nat home.

It's the truth of the matter, and his baby brother - his baby brother - has no damned chance of living because Leon's failed, has failed and will fail this time around, with his heart on his sleeve and his breath in his throat, and God they'd eat him alive, they'd eat them all alive.

His hands shake and Leon swallows a sob that turns into a hiccup, and Nat looks at him like he can hear, like he knows what Leon's thinking. There's no demand, no forgiveness for his past failures in his brother's eyes, nothing but utter trust that... that... Leon will pull through. That Leon can pull through.

But he can't.

He doesn't know how.

His words are lost, and Leon doesn't know how.

nat krigel

there's fire and gold in our eyes

"You're a lion, Nat."

Lions were strong, fierce with claws and teeth, and Nat appreciates the comparison even if he feels nothing like a king of the wild. Even if he still feels the fading bruise on his jaw from that kid at school, whatever the fuck his name was - Nat can't even remember. But from it he remembers something else - his new self.

Nat. Not Michel.

But it's Michel sitting here with trembling hands and a desperate hope placed in his skeptical older brother that it'll work out - that he'll come home in two weeks with lost limbs and an imaginary crown on his head. Just the way Leon did.

They're blood, aren't they? Blood through and through.

They can do it as a team.

Right?

"Yeah," Nat says to Arissa, reaction so delayed it should probably be funny but nobody's laughing and he doesn't think they're going to anytime soon. He tries for a smile, but it sticks and feels like a grimace. "You're gonna have to keep both our rooms clean for us, y'know. And do everything by yourself while we're gone."

What was he doing, spending trivial words when they barely have time together left - when he could be saying goodbye and telling his older sister, "I love you, sis, thank you for everything"? Their time is limited, they know it both. Twenty-four to one. The odds are not in his favor.

But it doesn't stop him from putting faith in his older brother, from refusing to say the words like the words have any power - like fate wouldn't end him because he never said goodbye, I love you.

Goodbye, I love you.

One Krigel has already almost bled out on the Capitol floor, surviving only by luck more than anything else they could have going for them; Nat doesn't know if a second will have the same chance.

leon krigel

set fire to the sky watch it burn down

They bat small-talk back and forth like it was a ball when the words they should be sharing are hovering on the tips of their tongues; Leon can see them holding it back for reasons currently unknown to him.

Except he can't stop himself from doing the same.

Maybe it's because it's easier to pretend this is normal, that it's all good and happy when each of them understand otherwise, but Leon can't stop himself from responding with stupid trivialities, with lighthearted words casually thrown in the center for the dying to latch onto - a comfort, maybe. The simple comfort of home.

"I never lied about the parfaits," he says, his voice rough but light like that's what's important in the face of the hell lying in wait before them all: Games, terror, nightmares. The potential death of their dear little brother. Leon lifts his gaze to meet Arissa's eyes, hoping that she'll somehow have an idea, have a plan.

But the ball's in his court, and Leon is too broken to dive.

They may have drifted apart in the aftermath, but between them there's still a part connected by hours spent talking, laughing together, staring into each other's eyes with the childish conviction of a visible soul; Leon knows his twin well enough to see that neither of them will make it through this whole, no matter what happens. They're one soul, one person doubled - they're two halves of a broken heart made whole in the presence of the other. Siblings - no. More than that.

Twins.

"We'll bring one home for you, if they'd let us."

nat krigel

there's fire and gold in our eyes

They're laughing like this is all normal, like every other week they send a Krigel to the Capitol to face death and leave blood where they walk for the next one to try and match the exact width and size of their footsteps. Nat doesn't hope to match them exactly.

He's never considered the idea of being in the Games - not until his name was called ringing through the square and President Snow was watching his every move. He doesn't know now what he thinks of it, either - lips chapped from his nervous chewing and mind caught with all that could happen and would happen. New people from districts everywhere - but maybe a couple would have none. There are three of us today, aren't there? Yeah. 

A comfort to him is in the realization of Leon's constant presence for at least the next week. He's not going in completely alone, not the way Leon did, or the way the other two are. He's got family. Got someone to go to if anything goes wrong, at least for a while.

Then he's all on his own.

Is that even an advantage?

"I'll let you know on the parfait thing," Nat says. I won't give up, sis. I'll come back and tell you in person everything you want to know. "I'm still dubious about the 'peach yoghurt' whatever that Leon was talking about." His foot goes out and taps his older brother on the knee. Leon smiles, but it just looks like a grimace. You and me both.

"Don't worry."

Goodbye. I love you.

leon krigel

set fire to the sky watch it burn down

The words tasted bitter on his tongue when he spoke them, but they exist outside his mind now. They're alive and taking baby breaths all on their own, twisting with the laughter of a young child through the air - barely born are the words, yet they're already trying to take flight.

Alive. Breathing.

But for how long? How far can words fly before they fade into dust, fade to blend with an endless sky, never again seen? How long can they keep a boy out of death's hands?

If he stops too long Leon begins to feel like he's grasping at water, reaching for feathers. He's putting superstition on his brother's life, like maybe just if this happened then- But it doesn't work that way. Never has. Nat has to... has to survive. First the Capitol. First the crowds of adoring people that his brother will reject - I know you - in something like an art form. Nerves to arrogance to nothing left.

And then he'd have to survive the arena.

Nerves grated arrogance broken nothing left.

It changes you. He wants to tell his little brother that, but doesn't know how to explain it in words. It changes you, and you'll be different if- when you leave. Like you killed yourself there anyway.

"I'll tell you everything," says Nat, and Leon can only watch his siblings grasp hands like it's the last time they'll ever see each other. Like they're sitting by their little brother's deathbed.

I never lied about the parfaits, but he fucking is.

nat krigel

there's fire and gold in our eyes

"I'll tell you everything."

He's got a false smile on his face but his hands grasp tightly on his sister's arm, fingers digging into her skin but he doesn't feel and maybe she doesn't either. Her own hand will leave bruises over his own, and Nat wants so badly for the marks to be permanent if this is the last time he'll ever see her. He wants so badly to pull her close because he doesn't want to let her go ever I don't ever want to let go please don't let me go please please make it stop.

Make it stop.

"I'll write notes for you as I see them." Just in case. "Just in case I forget," Nat says, and the words are salt on his lips salt on his skin salt on open scars. They sting.

He holds on tight.

There is so much more he has to say but there's no time or no way to say them. Nat wants the words branded on his skin on her skin on his own, each of them with the words forever etched on their body canvas to the end of their days, however fucking long he has left - counting seconds, counting days. He'd always thought they'd be unstoppable, that the three of them could be... something to believe in. 

But it feels like they've all given up, and Nat's childish hope-

it's leaving them too.

And it's only Monday.