open your wings - danny's last
Apr 8, 2016 20:13:57 GMT -5
Post by Stare on Apr 8, 2016 20:13:57 GMT -5
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[googlefont="Quattrocento:400"]cover your tracks - a boy and his kite
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mind, pick up your pace
capture the thoughts you always chase
soul, open your wings
lift this cage higher than any dream
capture the thoughts you always chase
soul, open your wings
lift this cage higher than any dream
Sometimes, when she was leaning impatiently against sterile white walls in the hospital, Danny would hear people talk about things worth living for.
For her, there had never been such a thing. The opportunity to live had been taken away from her, stolen ruthlessly and silently for reasons no one seemed to understand. Thinking about the future hurt, so she released her dreams from where they were caged around her heart. Still, sometimes at night she would lie on her back and wonder. What’s worth living for? If there had ever been a choice, what would she have lived for? The answers always came easily, even if they were self-injected poison. Alex. Her parents. Aiden. A lover, a husband, children of her own. But those were secret moments, hidden in darkness and never spoken aloud. They led her on a trail that ended too close to the harsh truth she was always trying to avoid.
She knew there was an ending to her story. That, at least, was a reality she’d always acknowledged. It would be sooner than she wanted it to be. It wouldn’t be happy. But she took those things in stride, because she refused to end up like one of those hospital patients who stared blankly into space with lifeless eyes, giving up all the moments they still had left. She’d always imagined her ending under sanitized sheets, though, with Alex’s hand clutched in her own and only distant memories of the boy who’d already succumbed to his own disease. She certainly hadn’t pictured it here, projected to every person in Panem. And she had never thought she would be killed by a puppet.
She’d expected pain, too, and that wasn’t a let down. White hot agony seemed to spread through every inch of her body, though it was quickly followed by an even more terrifying tingly numbness. Her legs began to shake with the effort of holding her body upright, heartbeat roaring in protest as it fought to keep her anchored to life. Stop fighting. She shuddered, hand dropping Ezero’s spear into the water as her arms wrapped around herself. Her body spasmed. Stop -
(“Look. I need to talk to you about what happened yesterday.”
Basil’s eyes were as bright as stars in and ink dark sky and she would much rather just keep watching him, memorizing the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. Yesterday was something that haunted her, bloodstained and tangled with memories of despair and a boy who wouldn’t kill her. She knew what she’d said had bothered Basil and she wasn’t quite sure what that meant. He knew she was broken. He knew she’d given up on herself before she’d even entered the Arena. So why did he care? The question both made her heart flutter and her stomach sink.
“Maybe - maybe you feel like you don’t deserve to live anymore. Okay? I get it. But I - we need you to keep fighting.”
She’d only offered him a half smile, a promise she had no intention of keeping. She didn’t want to think about the future. She didn’t want to think about more fighting. All she wanted to think about was then, there, and the way her chest warmed at the realization that someone knew she was beyond saving but wanted her to live, anyway.)
Fighting wouldn’t help her now. He’d killed her. The coward on strings had actually killed her. It was ending, just like she’d thought she’d wanted. She spat out more blood, some of it dribbling down her chin, and then raised her gaze to meet his. She’d thought death would make her feel more forgiving. A girl who’d looked like her from Two had forgiven her own ally years ago after being slaughtered by him. Klaus Goravich. Three’s victor. No matter how deeply within herself she looked, though, there was no forgiveness. No gentle, calm acceptance of his actions. Only anger, burning like embers between her ribs.
“There’s a fate worse than death, puppet.” She grunted, then gasped when her knee gave way and she crashed into the water. She reached up and grasped at one of the trees, barely able to hold herself up as the world swam in and out of her vision. Her free arm rose, hand and fingers mimicking a puppeteer pulling strings. “Yours.”
Death hummed in disagreement. She finally felt it diving into her, making her heart gallop faster and searing ice into her veins. Turning her face away from Atticus, she slowly lowered herself down, leaning her back against the tree as she gulped in deep breaths of air. Spires of crimson spread around her like a twisted work of art. She shuddered again, curling into herself. Death held her in her arms, and yet she was not afraid. In fact, she almost smiled.
Hello, old friend.
(“Aiden?”
They were sitting on a run down bench in one of the few patches of Three that wasn’t completely cluttered with factories and smoke. People still crowded past, dirt stirring up at their feet, but this part of town was where the wealthier citizens lived. There were little shops and a few stray vendors calling out to the crowds. Despite the cramped atmosphere, the air was crisp and laced with the comforting smell of oversalted food. Danny held a warm pretzel in one hand, her fingers slick with its grease. Aiden sat beside her, looking somewhat more relaxed than usual.
“Yeah?”
She wanted to ask him everything. His favorite color, what he liked to read, which games he played when he was a little kid. She wanted desperately in that moment to be normal. She wanted their friendship to always feel the way it did just then - like it was going to last. But suddenly she felt a familiar pressure in her nose and jerked forward, one hand cupped over her face to hold the blood back. She heard Aiden saying something, his tone urgent but not as urgent as someone else’s would have been. He understood, more than he should have, that she wouldn’t want panic or even comfort. She just wanted it to be over. Her eyes closed, throat suddenly tight. She just wanted it all to be over.)
Her eyes fluttered for a moment before she focused on Atticus. Something sparked up in her chest, but it wasn’t enough to save her. Only enough to make her speak. “You’re so convinced that death’s a gift you give? Then you’re going to love this.”
For a moment the truth settled heavy on her tongue, and it threatened to drag her down before she could speak. The words were foreign even though they’d rattled in her mind for ages, demanding acknowledgement every time she found herself alone and trembling because her body was so drained. Her chest felt like it was caving in and for a moment she was gasping in the face of honesty. The moment passed, her world steadied, and she narrowed her eyes at her district partner. Her chin lifted slightly.
“I have leukemia.”
And just like that, the weight was gone.
Her lips twisted into an unkind smile. “I dare you to try and tell Ezero that’s why my death was justified. He’ll skin you alive.”
Because for the first time in her life, she was beginning to realize that not having something to live for didn’t make her worthless. Not having a future didn’t mean that she had no say in it. And being haunted by Death didn't mean that she deserved to die. Her eyes swept over Atticus and the blood spreading on his skin and she felt something similar to relief flooding through her. She didn’t know if Ezero would be the one to survive this hell, but she’d given him a fighting chance. More than anything now, she wanted her book boy to make it out alive. He was her friend. The friend who wouldn’t kill her, even though he knew Death would find her either way.
Darkness was pulsing at the edges of her vision. Her body had finally, finally fallen slack against the tree. No more fighting. It was time for her to rest.
She gathered the rest of her energy to tilt her head in Atticus’s direction, sneering. “See you soon.”
And then the darkness surrounded her. She’d fought long and well. She’d sacrificed. She’d seen horrors, she’d lost people, she’d cried. She’d refused to let the Gamemakers pull her strings. She’d tried. And in the end, she’d given everything she had to protect the last person she deemed worth saving.
Maybe she’d been a hero after all.
(Danny’s cannon fires.)
She found him the next day, just before she sensed the chaos was about to begin.
There was no dying body to hold her down, no disease to make her bleed. She was light as air and filled to the brim with something that felt like sunlight. When she joined Ezero, though, she wasn't smiling. Book boy. She wanted to reassure him, to wrap her arms around him and give her some of the relief that she was practically overflowing with. She couldn’t, though, so instead she settled for staying close.
“I knew you’d show up. Whatever end it may be, you promised me that.”
Then she smiled, though it held a hint of sorrow. She hadn’t meant for it to end like this. But then again, none of her goodbyes had gone the way she’d wanted them to, had they? She knew he felt the same way. He missed Delta - who wouldn’t? - and all the others he’d had to leave behind. She was here, though, just like she’d promised. One last farewell.
“And here you are.”
Here I am. Her hand slotted into his, urging him forward. Out of the past and the pain, and toward a chance at a future.
“You know I’ll be here with you too. ‘Til the end.”
Danny Brooker was done fighting. It was Ezero’s turn. And she tried to give him strength, because he was her book boy. He was her intelligent, sweet, battered, burdened book boy. He was also her friend.
And he’d been something worth dying for.
cover your tracks
sew up your wounds
pick up your pace
open your wings
sew up your wounds
pick up your pace
open your wings
