40 Hands for 40 Years // [Arbor's Birthday!]

40 Hands for 40 Years // [Arbor's Birthday!] Jun 1, 2018 23:28:34 GMT -5

Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Jun 1, 2018 23:28:34 GMT -5

It doesn't hurt me.
Do you want to feel how it feels?
Do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me?
Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making?
You, it's you and me.

They’d been back in the Capitol only one day, and already it felt like an entire year. Exhaustion dogged every step, so much more viciously than it had when his children were small. He yearned for those simple months back in Ten, but he no longer raged against his time in the heart of Panem. It had, despite his wanting, become entirely normal. Sure, there were different tributes and the victor being feted rotated. This year it ought to have been Katelyn Persimmon surviving ten long years.

But none of them had seen her to know anything about her survival – or departure.

He thought about that more and more, while his children slept, while he scarfed down meals, while he sweated in the garden. Maybe Katelyn hadn’t gone off on a grand adventure. Maybe life wasn’t that generous; maybe it was just as cruel as President Snow had taught them all it would be.

Mace stood at the window, looking out at the Capitol’s expanse. He didn’t have a direct view of the President’s mansion, but he didn’t need to. The man permeated everything. Mace let his forehead fall against the glass, marking it with his oil and sweat. Somewhere in the Training Center, Saffron was finding herself; he ought to go and help, or at least witness it. But he couldn’t get his feet to move. Ten years. She’d been so young. Hell, even Arbor had been young, then.

He leaned back, stared at the grease stain. It wouldn’t be President Snow who cleaned it off; it would be a minion, someone paid or someone enslaved to do so. He rubbed it with the sleeve of his shirt and then called the elevator. He rode down first, all the way to the kitchen level, which he knew and loved so well. A little flirtation, a promise to introduce the right person to the newest victor – though he’d only had one conversation with Stella Blakesley and it was perfunctory on her victory tour – and he had what he needed. Back up he went, double and triple checking his math.

On the eleventh floor, he emerged to quiet. “Harbinger? Kirito?” Katelyn?

It was Mayor Miristioma who answered him. Mace greeted his old friend with a grim sort of smile. “We’ve got some celebratin’ to do. If I’m right, Arbor’d be forty this year. I think it’s about time we threw him a birthday party, don’t you?”

He opened his jacket, just a bit, to flash a hint of a gift at Kirito. He grabbed the elevator door before it could fully shut, forcing it back open. “C’mon.”

Up one more floor, to the penthouse. He dropped a kiss on Aranica’s cheek and then raised his voice. “Arbor Halt! You can run, but you can’t hide!”

And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God,
And I'd get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
Be running up that building.
If I only could, oh

[dars]

Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]

40 Hands for 40 Years // [Arbor's Birthday!] Jun 7, 2018 15:06:34 GMT -5

Post by Arrows on Jun 7, 2018 15:06:34 GMT -5

A single day stretches into a century. Painful portraits of the past follow Kirito through every crevice of the city she taught him to survive in. Mental mirages of blonde flowing forth from her head seem to be waiting around each corner of every corridor. Even a gentle gush of winter wind from a cooling unit brings about her image of immortality. For years now nothing but speculation and certain confusion have held her place, but the Capitol knows no control to what it can use.

Bright burning images of her figure fill the spaces of giant boards. Items marked memorable from her tragedy line the endless isles of the Capitol's stores. Every other channel comments on another portion of her games, another portion of her fight for freedom from the frigid. In ten years her celebration of victory vilely fuels the cruel occupants of the city, but she is not around to witness the atrocity. They celebrate a phantom figure who once burnt as a beacon of hope and a signal of strength. They celebrate a friend made family who Kirito still feels the raw reminders of her endless absence.

Soft sounds of steps pull Kirito from the tumbling of this thoughts and to Anastasia who stands softly by his side. A gentle smile shines on her face and he pulls her into his arms. For a moment, her warmth keeps Kaitlyn's could from chilling his soul. A kiss calmly creeps onto her cheek and away into her bedroom he takes his heavy-eyed daughter.

Soon after sleep spills over Ana's face a sound as familiar as his own draws Kirito from the room. Mace as usual as ever stands waiting by the elevator with an invitation igniting in his voice. A laugh lingers over Kirito's lips as he gives a shrug to his old friend. "I suppose we shouldn't miss a big one like this." Kirito's eyes look back for Harbinger from the elevator and find her instead. She smiles. She vanishes. The doors close.

Within the whir of the rising elevator Kirito can't cast the thought of her from his mind. Out of the three she knew Arbor best. She would have wanted to be here tonight, his palms press into fists. So why wasn't she?

A ding of the doors and the tension tears away. Mace engages the floor first followed by Kirito quickly on his heels. Jokes already christen the air as Kirito too joins in to try further drowning out the depths of her disappearance. "Or maybe you can't run either, given your age and all!"

As Kirito waits my Mace for Arbor to appear a sudden thought throws him into an entirely different arena of ice. His eyes flash to his friend as he feels almost ashamed of forgetting for so long. "Mace, how are you?" He asks his voice lowers by the gravity of the realization. "Has it been harder this year?"