ash again | {clementa/kieran} blitz

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d10 🌼 duchess duchannes [dars]
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ash again | {clementa/kieran} blitz Sept 30, 2017 14:20:20 GMT -5

Post by d10 🌼 duchess duchannes [dars] on Sept 30, 2017 14:20:20 GMT -5

i'll draw myself to you through the dark
like a moth to your blame to my shame
i'll warm myself on you as you burn
watch the embers grow out of the flames

Hearts were made to hammer; bodies were made to die.

Humans were walking contradictions, weren't they?

Kieran had accepted his father's handshake, blizzards of Mace's soul becoming Kieran's burden to weather, at least just this once. Mace would serve his district in his own way this year, from behind the desk of the Mayor's Hall, with the decorations Aunt Reggie had demanded he accept hanging on the walls. If he wanted to check on the progress of the games, he had a television screen to stare at in anticipation like the rest of them. But he needed to stay. Kieran understood that much.

He didn't understand why he was expected to go in his father's place. Kieran stood on the stage with the best of them, but when Mace stepped forward to deliver the Mayor's address, Kieran did not trail him. His feet remained planted next to Saffron Lowe, which was a good thing, because when Clementa began her ascent to the stage, Saffron may have fallen over without Kieran there to steady her.

And now, he was on a train, sitting in his father's favorite seat, with a whiskey on the rocks in his hand, and one of the last Lowes sitting across from him, right where her sister sat last year.

Praying that the curse would skip Paige, he turned to his girlfriend's cousin for the first time.

"I won't lie," he admitted, "I've seen them mentor every year since I was born, but—" He held his tongue- held his breath. He was going to say, I don't know how good I am at this yet, but he realized he wouldn't want to hear that were he in Clementa's shoes.

"I'll try my hardest to keep you alive, okay?"

but you'll fade
you'll fade to ash again
you held me down until
the dust fell off my wings

Last Edit: Sept 30, 2017 14:22:19 GMT -5 by d10 🌼 duchess duchannes [dars]

^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

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ash again | {clementa/kieran} blitz Sept 30, 2017 21:48:26 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Sept 30, 2017 21:48:26 GMT -5

C L E M E N T A L O W E.

Why am I doing this, oh god- oh god I'm so fucking stupid. A moment's strength, the weakest moments of my life and I thought I'd be- it'd be easier than this. Immediate regret and I hide tears in the corners of my sleeves, crying into red knuckles and pretending they all want me dead because it's easier that way. They can't just leave, I want to fucking hate them, coughing through justice building sobs and I wished I were fucking dead, I just wish it would come faster. A second's shout, a minute's regret-

two weeks of desperation.
I want to be fucking dead.

And I don't trust this shit for a second, no Saffron, no Mace; it's only Kieran and Ansgar and they can't fucking take care of themselves. The boy who got reaped will do fine, Truus and tried and I cower on the train. Not from them- I don't care what they think about my ass at this point. There's humility in volunteering, my father saw me in the justice building for the last time. I won't see him again, and this is how they felt. Myara and Emberly, sitting in these same seats, I can't be alone but I can't feel any more so. They at least left on better terms. They at least had actual mentors. "I won't lie,"

He's the only one.

"I've seen them mentor every year since I was born, but-"
"but?"

I don't hold my breath, lucky Kyrian isn't here. One of us actually wants to live.

"I'll try my hardest to keep you alive, okay?" He sits like a prince, like he's worked any in his life like I have, like anybody else born in the lower districts had. Lucky me, Kieran Emberstatt is my guardian angel, no wings and no practice. I wonder how soft his hands are, if they're any harder than Kiara's. "Don't bother," nobody wants me to be alive anyways. That's how it works, right? Twenty three people wanting to kill me, twenty four including myself and one privileged kid is going to save me? "I'll jump off the platform at the beginning, save us both the trouble." Head in my hands, elbows on my knees, "don't worry about it." I can't fake a smile, not right now.

"Tell Saffron to burn my shit, I don't plan on coming back."

d10 🌼 duchess duchannes [dars]
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ash again | {clementa/kieran} blitz Sept 30, 2017 22:49:09 GMT -5

Post by d10 🌼 duchess duchannes [dars] on Sept 30, 2017 22:49:09 GMT -5

i'll draw myself to you through the dark
like a moth to your blame to my shame
i'll warm myself on you as you burn
watch the embers grow out of the flames

If a person saw a burning house, why would their first instinct ever be to race inside? Does the fear of getting burned absolve itself? Or is it still there, lurking in the back of the person's mind?

He watched her, plump lips speaking only the truth, eyes welling up as insurance. In the months since Emberly's death, they had all felt the heat, all smelled the smoke, but no one every bothered to make sure Clementa was not burning down. Where there is smoke there is fire, and where there is blood, well, there are things much worse: Revenge. Pain. Whatever might have come from the burns.

("Don't bother,")

That was one thing he promised his father the night before— "Just keep and eye on Saffron, and help her out as much as possible. Promise?"

"Promise."

He wondered if her home was salvageable, or if every splinter of wood, every stitch of fabric, every memory she'd built her life upon was already reduced to ash.

"Tell Saffron to burn my shit; I don't plan on coming back."

He gritted his teeth, swallowing back another sip of whiskey. Fifteen years old, and they've already driven me to drinking, he thought. Leaning in, fingers pressing themselves against a glass table as his face inched closer and closer to Clementa's.

"Tell her that yourself. I'll be too busy saving your ass, if that's okay." He held her gaze, daring her to give up, daring her not to try.

Why does a person run into a fire?

To save whomever might be trapped inside.

She burned up right in front of him, and he had to make a decision of if he hoped for the best or fought the infernos of her past.

"Now, do you want to take a shot of this whiskey or not?"

He embraced the flames.

but you'll fade
you'll fade to ash again
you held me down until
the dust fell off my wings