ain't ever gonna { r e p e n t } // bella
Nov 27, 2018 15:37:47 GMT -5
Post by Stare on Nov 27, 2018 15:37:47 GMT -5
been traveling in packs that i can't carry anymore
been waiting for somebody else to carry me
there's nothing else there for me at my door
all the people i know aren't who they used to be
been waiting for somebody else to carry me
there's nothing else there for me at my door
all the people i know aren't who they used to be
“He was the strong one.”
Bella stood stubbornly in the doorway, casting a larger-than-life shadow over the polished floorboards. The doorjamb dug into her shoulder where she slouched against it, trying to keep her posture relaxed even though her skin was tingling with an invisible fire. Rodrigo didn’t bother turning away from the paperwork on his desk, though his mouth tugged into an uncompromising line.
She shifted, pulling her robe more tightly around her and tucking her hands into her sides. “He was the strong one,” she repeated. How many times had that mantra played through her head as she wandered through the hallways, searching inward and outward for a lost presence? How many times had it strangled her soul until she found herself curled and shuddering in some corner, gasping breath into a chest that was frozen over? “What are we going to do without him?”
Rodrigo remained unconcerned. He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “He was weak.”
“Liar.”
He glanced up at that, raising his eyebrows. Aren’t we all?
“He was strong. He protected us.”
“We’re still protected.”
By whatever would-be mercenaries and assassins Rodrigo could find, it was true, they were protected. But Bella had learned from her encounter with the wild, golden-eyed woman that killers had pasts of their own and, when it came down to it, served no one but themselves. There was a difference between an assassin taking a life for a price and Bella nearly drowning in her own blood because Rodrigo told her to. There was a difference between hired protection and Cesare’s.
“And where was this ‘protection’ when the Hammerfell’s bitch was threatening to skin me alive, hm? Where was it when your damn assassination plot nearly got me killed?”
“We haven’t seen that gold-eyed freak in months, and we’ve shown the Hammerfells that it’s best to take us seriously. Regardless, I’ve increased our numbers and wages. Just to be safe.”
“You know it’s not the same. Cesare protected us because we were family, not because - ”
“He was not family.” Rodrigo cut her off swiftly and coldly. “Crocettis don’t enter the Games, and they especially don’t lose them. He stopped being one of us the day he stepped onto that stage. He was weak.”
Something small and cold settled in the space between her ribcage. A battle between her learned obedience and her love for her brother raged in her chest, and she felt her gaze on Rodrigo losing focus. Bella’s voice was so soft she could barely hear herself speaking. “He was stronger than you.”
Her brother stood, fingers fanning out over the paperwork as he planted his hands on his desk. His looming presence once would have had her fleeing, but now she simply ducked her head and avoided his gaze.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, Rodrigo.” Her attempt at a light, dismissive tone was ruined by a slight tremor when she said his name, but it wasn’t fear. Bella wasn’t afraid. Something else was beginning to rush through her veins.
“What was that?”
If Cesare was there he would have stepped in, pulled her aside. But Cesare wasn’t there. He would never be there again, and she couldn’t keep waiting for him in a pathetic state of helplessness. It had to stop. She lifted her chin. “You said he was weak. But he was stronger than you.”
“Stronger than me.” Rodrigo’s expression bordered somewhere between outraged and hurt. “Stronger than me? Does that make me weak, Bella?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he barked at her. “Say something!”
“Say what?” Her voice raised to a shout to match his, and she dared to storm into the room, meeting his gaze directly. “You know what he meant to me! What he meant to all of us! And here you are, doing paperwork - ” she gestured in disgust at his desk “ - for his murderers! So what is it exactly that you want me to say?” She dropped into a quiet, bitter tone. “If we are slaves to the people who killed our own blood then yes, Rodrigo, we are weak.”
“We’re loyal to the Capitol.”
Loyal to the Capitol. The words brought images of unification and strength, a beacon of hope in a world that had been - and perhaps still was - falling the pieces. The Capitol had created salvation in chaos and forgiven the Districts for their sinful revolts. In a world of murderers and thieves, of rebellion and disorder and ruin, it had somehow managed to pull the world back together. It had been strong, like Cesare. But now, having seen her brother slayn, having faced death itself for that shining city and still been dismissed as a Peacekeeper’s bastard, she no longer looked toward the Capitol for strength.
“I’m loyal to myself now,” she hissed, splaying her hand over the papers on his desk and shoving them off the edge with a flourish.
After a beat of heavy silence Rodrigo began to respond, but she couldn’t hear him over the other voices ringing in her ear as she turned and stormed out of the room. Crocetti slut. I volunteer! He was weak.
Her lips tugged into a wry smile. “There’s nobody else who will be.”
i pray for the wicked on the weekend
mama, can i get another amen?
swear to god, i ain't ever gonna repent
mama, can i get another amen?
say amen - panic at the disco
mama, can i get another amen?
swear to god, i ain't ever gonna repent
mama, can i get another amen?
say amen - panic at the disco
