Take My Hand (And My Whole Heart Too) // [AU Mahlah/Elon]
Oct 2, 2016 20:21:54 GMT -5
Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Oct 2, 2016 20:21:54 GMT -5
ELON EMBERSTATT
He'd gone to bed that morning in Mace's victor mansion early. He wanted to be refreshed to greet the Victor of the Sixty First Hunger Games in the morning. Despite his good intentionsevery one of them, he didn't sleep at all. He was too excited, too tickled by the prospect of seeing his brother again and of meeting her, Panem's newest victor. He'd tried to explain to Regalia, who slept in the bed besides his own, why he was so excited. She waved him off; she'd much rather Julian Bryze come to visit, with his deep blue eyes and his boyish smile.
Elon wished for that too, and probably for the same reason as his sister. That thought kept him awake longer than it should have. When he slept, he chased victors in his dreams.
The next morning he dressed carefully, which he always did, but today with just a touch more extra care. When Regalia wasn't looking he borrowed her lip gloss and mascara, heightening his features. He wanted to leave an impression. He knew he ought to wear black, because District Ten had lost two more tributes these Games, including the stranger boy who had volunteered in his place. He felt the heavy weight of shame that he could not muster the proper feelings of mourning. He was too excited, too delighted by the prospect of his dreams becoming reality.
Because for the last year, he'd dreamt of Mahlah Shea.
Even before she'd been reaped, he'd spent time with a curly brown haired girl in his dreamscape. Sometimes they went fishing, and sometimes they went shopping and sometimes they did nothing at all. He hadn't told anyone about the dreams until the Reaping and then he'd made the mistake of telling Regalia. She'd teased him mercilessly for having a crush and he'd never found the proper words to explain that Miss Shea was so much more than a crush. A wise man had once said, whatever souls were made of, ours are cut from the same cloth.
Reggie looked at him now, sidelong, as they stood on the train station platform.
"You don't have to counsel me about good graces," he whispered, just before taking the hands of the families of the deceased. They greeted one another awkwardly before all turning to the arriving steam engine. Mace stepped down first, his grey eyes flat but his mouth holding back a smile. Elon's heart swelled but instead of running to his beloved brother, he waited.
He waited for her.