♕ intertwined ♛ // day 8 - cassiopeia v. anise
May 1, 2017 19:27:16 GMT -5
Post by shrimp on May 1, 2017 19:27:16 GMT -5
anise
The smell of salt floats through her nostrils and she blinks to see the salt flats - or not, the water looks too deep, maybe up to her thigh, and the waves lap against each other lazily. Azures and periwinkles, peony and hydrangea, forget-me-nots that float on the surface. The breeze washes through her hair and rinses it out with precision, and she lifts the mug of tea to her lips. Simple, jasmine.
She offers Gabby her cup. For a while they sit there, passing it back and forth, the smooth lacquer comforting against her thumb.
"Have you even had tea before?" She leans her hands against the dock, her feet wading in the warm water.
"Can't say I have." It's refreshing to hear her voice - warm and rough, no longer choking on the red that neither of them could stem. "It always seemed too fancy for me. Wet leaf water."
A chuckle. "Fancying it up makes it too confusing." She waves her hand in front of her and sees swirls in the skies, fractals iterating over and over as silver turns to violet turns to marigold. She swipes her hand the other way and it's gone, back to heather blue and the softest blush.
Around them, time ebbs and flows, caught in a moment before the sun bursts and spills into frame.
"I told myself not to miss you," she says. "It'd be easier. It'd make sense, even," to not care about a girl she met maybe two weeks ago, five days in an arena that always felt like it was tipping over.
"But I don't think I'm good at following rules anymore."
She doesn't look at her just yet - can't, not unless she wants to feel that now-familiar tug behind her eyes - but she feels Gabby's soft laugh stir the hair by her ear. "Look at you, my tall rebel knight. The delinquent that stole my heart." The corners of Anise's mouth turn upwards.
Water splashes as Gabby's feet paddle in the pools, emerald green licking up her ankles and dribbling back down sunburnt orange. "I got the better deal, you know. I'm sorry I left you. I didn't want to."
"I don't think I ever got a good deal. The only one I chose, I think I chose wrong." Her mother softly sobs, baby crocodiles squirming and landing on the dock before they bloom into cacti.
She feels phantom fingers against her own and closes her hand as they become corporeal, but not solid enough to be reality: separated by a dimension, a one way train ticket and she hasn't yet been to the station.
"Did it hurt?"
"What?"
A pause, morose eyes glimmer. "When you fell from heaven."
The water ripples as Gabby sprays her tea over it in a fine mist. Colors for which neither of them have name churn at the surface, the same pixelated saturation that followed Anise as she put Eva Hope into unsolid ground.
"I wouldn't know," she chuckles, wiping her mouth. "I never made it to the gates. I'm hanging around for a pretty girl who said she'd make the trip with me eventually."
Anise snorts. A kiss halfway to being a phantom gets placed on the back of her hand. "You're the only one who can actually make me wait for anything."
"It's a miracle really, you're the most impatient person I've ever met." Eyes close, and open to the sun that peeks up over the horizon. Like dominos from the waves burst swans, shimmering white and gold and sunflower yellow as they begin to glide upwards. As they cloud her vision Anise turns to Gabby.
"Next time, let's go to the ocean?"
"Just another reason to stay by your side," Gabby smiles, the dawning sun shining on her but also through, her entire body glowing rose and gold, a perfect union in an imperfect world. "You accomplished something no one else ever could."
That's a lie, Anise thinks.
Her fingers brush Anise's hair from her eyes, softer than anything - there's that expression again, so quiet and tender, but it doesn't hurt like it did the first time.
(Anise doesn't know if anything will hurt like that again.)
"I'd like that."
"Good."
~
The first face in the sky is not Saummerand Demheaux or Cassiopeia Shaw, but of the girl from three, fire burning in her eyes. Both sixes, Elettra Eckhart and the boy with the lopsided crown ontop of his head. Eva Hope, eyes boring into her soul. The last District 12. Riven.
She closes her eyes, sending wishes into the void. That their deaths weren't full of pain, that they were sober enough to realize it. Or perhaps the opposite. Anise knows that she needs to face Death head on when it comes her way, but maybe some people need to not know, need their lives to end without a hesitation, a glance to the sky or the ground or a token.
When she opens her eyes once more, her pack of whales have gained a fifth member and a sack of crayons of every color imaginable, too many to even comprehend. So she doesn't; instead she takes a crayon from the bunch and draws four wheels, a container and a handle, heaving the sack into the cart and pulling it along with her.
The paper plains bid her adieu as the fifth whale integrates itself into the family, swimming in circles and looking out of breath. The orca gently guides it to rest in her breast pocket. She smiles as the beluga kisses her on the nose, as the narwhal glides ahead to investigate the neon forest ahead.
As each step moves forwards she thinks of who's left. Tamron Rhodes (too kind, too trusting, still alive for a reason). His district partner, the Izar with mania in her steps and the obnoxious megaphone (Smart, creative, dangerous, cradling Molly Malachite in her arms). O'Hara from 9 (sketches strewn across the Training Center and alarm in the mansion; it still feels strange that they're the only two still alive from that fight). Shelby, stoic, underestimated. Castor Karmichael, the twin who attacked them on Day 2. Saummerand: meek, impulsive, a wildcard. And-
"Cassiopeia."
It seems fitting that the two of them would meet like this, as Anise places the cart at her side and steps forward. She knows that Two will be watching, the worst of them placing bets as soon as they locked eyes. The best of them will bemoan a fight between two girls from the same town, as if one's survival didn't mean the other's demise.
Anise breathes in quietly, feels the air rush through her lungs and into her bloodstream, the synapes in her brain snapping away. Unspoken statements hang in the air, but it's unnecessary to be redundant. Both of them know there's only one way this can end. Death hovers nearby.
"Whenever you're ready."
She waits.
She charges.
She offers Gabby her cup. For a while they sit there, passing it back and forth, the smooth lacquer comforting against her thumb.
"Have you even had tea before?" She leans her hands against the dock, her feet wading in the warm water.
"Can't say I have." It's refreshing to hear her voice - warm and rough, no longer choking on the red that neither of them could stem. "It always seemed too fancy for me. Wet leaf water."
A chuckle. "Fancying it up makes it too confusing." She waves her hand in front of her and sees swirls in the skies, fractals iterating over and over as silver turns to violet turns to marigold. She swipes her hand the other way and it's gone, back to heather blue and the softest blush.
Around them, time ebbs and flows, caught in a moment before the sun bursts and spills into frame.
"I told myself not to miss you," she says. "It'd be easier. It'd make sense, even," to not care about a girl she met maybe two weeks ago, five days in an arena that always felt like it was tipping over.
"But I don't think I'm good at following rules anymore."
She doesn't look at her just yet - can't, not unless she wants to feel that now-familiar tug behind her eyes - but she feels Gabby's soft laugh stir the hair by her ear. "Look at you, my tall rebel knight. The delinquent that stole my heart." The corners of Anise's mouth turn upwards.
Water splashes as Gabby's feet paddle in the pools, emerald green licking up her ankles and dribbling back down sunburnt orange. "I got the better deal, you know. I'm sorry I left you. I didn't want to."
"I don't think I ever got a good deal. The only one I chose, I think I chose wrong." Her mother softly sobs, baby crocodiles squirming and landing on the dock before they bloom into cacti.
She feels phantom fingers against her own and closes her hand as they become corporeal, but not solid enough to be reality: separated by a dimension, a one way train ticket and she hasn't yet been to the station.
"Did it hurt?"
"What?"
A pause, morose eyes glimmer. "When you fell from heaven."
The water ripples as Gabby sprays her tea over it in a fine mist. Colors for which neither of them have name churn at the surface, the same pixelated saturation that followed Anise as she put Eva Hope into unsolid ground.
"I wouldn't know," she chuckles, wiping her mouth. "I never made it to the gates. I'm hanging around for a pretty girl who said she'd make the trip with me eventually."
Anise snorts. A kiss halfway to being a phantom gets placed on the back of her hand. "You're the only one who can actually make me wait for anything."
"It's a miracle really, you're the most impatient person I've ever met." Eyes close, and open to the sun that peeks up over the horizon. Like dominos from the waves burst swans, shimmering white and gold and sunflower yellow as they begin to glide upwards. As they cloud her vision Anise turns to Gabby.
"Next time, let's go to the ocean?"
"Just another reason to stay by your side," Gabby smiles, the dawning sun shining on her but also through, her entire body glowing rose and gold, a perfect union in an imperfect world. "You accomplished something no one else ever could."
That's a lie, Anise thinks.
Her fingers brush Anise's hair from her eyes, softer than anything - there's that expression again, so quiet and tender, but it doesn't hurt like it did the first time.
(Anise doesn't know if anything will hurt like that again.)
"I'd like that."
"Good."
~
The first face in the sky is not Saummerand Demheaux or Cassiopeia Shaw, but of the girl from three, fire burning in her eyes. Both sixes, Elettra Eckhart and the boy with the lopsided crown ontop of his head. Eva Hope, eyes boring into her soul. The last District 12. Riven.
She closes her eyes, sending wishes into the void. That their deaths weren't full of pain, that they were sober enough to realize it. Or perhaps the opposite. Anise knows that she needs to face Death head on when it comes her way, but maybe some people need to not know, need their lives to end without a hesitation, a glance to the sky or the ground or a token.
When she opens her eyes once more, her pack of whales have gained a fifth member and a sack of crayons of every color imaginable, too many to even comprehend. So she doesn't; instead she takes a crayon from the bunch and draws four wheels, a container and a handle, heaving the sack into the cart and pulling it along with her.
The paper plains bid her adieu as the fifth whale integrates itself into the family, swimming in circles and looking out of breath. The orca gently guides it to rest in her breast pocket. She smiles as the beluga kisses her on the nose, as the narwhal glides ahead to investigate the neon forest ahead.
As each step moves forwards she thinks of who's left. Tamron Rhodes (too kind, too trusting, still alive for a reason). His district partner, the Izar with mania in her steps and the obnoxious megaphone (Smart, creative, dangerous, cradling Molly Malachite in her arms). O'Hara from 9 (sketches strewn across the Training Center and alarm in the mansion; it still feels strange that they're the only two still alive from that fight). Shelby, stoic, underestimated. Castor Karmichael, the twin who attacked them on Day 2. Saummerand: meek, impulsive, a wildcard. And-
"Cassiopeia."
It seems fitting that the two of them would meet like this, as Anise places the cart at her side and steps forward. She knows that Two will be watching, the worst of them placing bets as soon as they locked eyes. The best of them will bemoan a fight between two girls from the same town, as if one's survival didn't mean the other's demise.
Anise breathes in quietly, feels the air rush through her lungs and into her bloodstream, the synapes in her brain snapping away. Unspoken statements hang in the air, but it's unnecessary to be redundant. Both of them know there's only one way this can end. Death hovers nearby.
"Whenever you're ready."
She waits.
She charges.
[attacks Cassiopeia with axe]
hhJwlhw1axe
[11130 -- Shallow Cut on Chest -- 4.0 damage]
