spare parts :: {Mycelium & Nico}

Arrows
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spare parts :: {Mycelium & Nico} Jun 4, 2019 16:17:01 GMT -5

Post by Arrows on Jun 4, 2019 16:17:01 GMT -5

The door closes with a clamorous thud behind her. Who knew eternity made a door so heavy? All around faceless figures follow the circumscribed steps and standards in sending two children off to oblivion. They all work while she stands as though nothing more than a shadow, something there but easily forgotten. Within the storm of their whirling whispers his name is like that of their king. Their hearts bleed for him and their water-warped eyes well for him. How unfair it is. How unbearable it must be for Arbor. They're all uprooted by the theft of a victor's child, and Red is nothing more than a shadow herself. Here, but easily forgotten.

Mycelium's teeth tighten, but she will not stand silent.

Bright blue eyes search for a harbor while a hand instinctively sets softly on a rising belly. She won't just watch while the world let's her sister shatter as his spare. They have no wealth or any name which would turn a head forged in falsities within the Capitol, but they shouldn't have to. Mycelium's hand furls into a fist as she continues to wander through the chaos. There are reasons for mentors, and they are reasons Mycelium is determined to see shared with her sister. Because at the end of the day, their life has been uprooted too, it's all unfair for them too. The only difference is no cares when someone they don't know falls apart.

The sight of youth is that of opportunity. He stands only steps away, the newest branch to District Twelve's gilded tree, and Mycelium can feel her breath momentarily catch. He's young and new with no mentoring experience and yet, he's exactly who she needs to speak with. Her breath frees and she steps forward with nervous certainty in the face of greatness, but she doesn't look away.

"Mr. Thorne, no, Nico. My name is Mycelium, Mycelium Stone. And I need to talk to you about my sister."

Mycelium stops for a second considering giving him a moment to politely refuse or request a later time, but her sister doesn't have time for her to waste. So, she grinds her teeth softly before continuing.

"He's his son..." her voice begins to break yet she refuses to let it, "And they all, you all, know him and... I know you all want to help him and save him. But Red's my sister," she takes a small step forward raising her head slightly along with firming her voice, "and I need to know that you will do everything you can to help her too. I need to." There's another second of silence before she finally finishes. "I came to you because you're the newest so you've had less time to know the Halts...and, because I think you can understand."

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spare parts :: {Mycelium & Nico} Jun 4, 2019 17:34:08 GMT -5

Post by 🌱 kaitlin. on Jun 4, 2019 17:34:08 GMT -5

no one saw the moon
that bled in my mouth.

i felt the taste of fire,
of blood and carnations

No, he had thought. Not Cedar.

He barely spared a thought for the girl who's name got called. Red Stone, they had called out before the crowd, but Nico had barely looked at her. He didn't recognize her, and wasn't given much of a chance to think about it before a name that Nico had never thought he would hear being called leaves the Escort's lips. Nico thinks that he calls out, maybe, thinks that there was panic in his eyes and in his voice and in his bones at the idea this boy would be put in the arena. I just got him, he'd thought. Let him stay.

But no one volunteered, and here Nico stands in quiet disbelief.

The girl comes out of nowhere.

Like a ghost, or a shadow, she emerges from the crowd and is in front of Nico before he has a chance to run in the other direction. He doesn't know what he's doing, doesn't know why he's here or what he's supposed to do. Jenas had shown up at his doorstep that morning, put him in a suit like this was some sort of celebration instead of a day to be mourned. Nico hadn't packed much, had known that none of the clothes he had here would be good enough for the Capitol anyway, so he'd just let the stylist have their way, pluck and prod, paint his lashes in that same coal dark stuff he'd hated before. He'd thought about bringing Bev, but decided to leave her behind, give her the freedom that she has in Twelve. He has his hands buried deep in the pockets when the girl steps in front of him.

Her hair is red like fire,
and she burns the same.

The name isn't enough to make things click in his head, not right away, not immediately. He's too taken with Cedar being reaped, too wrapped up in one of his new friends being whisked away to the Capitol—again, sure, but this time possibly for the last time. But then Mycelium says my sister, and it's a tone that would give anything away.

Nico knows what she wants to hear, even knows the words that he could and should say. He can feel them floating around in the back of his head, formless and unstrung, but there all the same. How hard would it be, to just be kind? To be reassuring?

All his worst instincts take over.

"What makes you think I'm capable of even helping her?" He says, voice flat. "You said it yourself, after all. I'm the newest."

Last Edit: Jun 8, 2019 16:51:54 GMT -5 by 🌱 kaitlin.

what are men to rocks and mountains?

a haunted house.

Arrows
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your resident blonde bisexual boy

spare parts :: {Mycelium & Nico} Jun 4, 2019 18:53:00 GMT -5

Post by Arrows on Jun 4, 2019 18:53:00 GMT -5

It all reminds her of a time and talk she had with Red. The trees had all given their leaves to the earth and the first freshly fallen snow was blanketing the scattered streets. Small spirals of smoke stained the grey skies as families found warmth within each others' arms. Both of their parents were still out working as a slow spinning stew brewed at the fingertips of Mycelium. The light was low but the volume of Red's voice ravenous for victory. They needed money and a better way to find it than running messages through the mines, Red turned towards sheets from the streets. Back then there was still an uncertainty about such profanity within Mycelium's mind, but only months later she was right by her sister's side.

Mycelium blinks at connecting such a scene to the one like this. The conversations couldn't be more different, from content to mild tones, but one piece seems present in each. Back then, before the tragedy of the coming trial, she was trying to convince Red of her own worth. Now she is trying to convince a boy, a victor, who could help Red, both of his and her's. It's a small symmetry, but it's the one that strings the thoughts together within her mind as she stands as strongly as she can before him. Some things she can walk away from, this however, she cannot.

She takes a hand and runs it through the red entanglement atop her head. A moment of thought before she finds words to say to this stranger. "I have no idea of your capabilities. I'm taking a total chance because it is literally the only thing I can do for her."

She could be saying everything wrong right now. She could be talking to a man who couldn't care less about the things she said. But she has to believe he does, because he's still here listening to her, and that's at least something.

"I also know you can help because all it takes is one voice. One voice to bring her up, to not let her be left out of the conversation."

Mycelium's hands both fall to her stomach as she again gazes back towards this person who owes her absolutely nothing, but who she is asking for help from all the same.

"I am sorry for all this, but we have always taken care of each other. So I'm just trying to find one person to be in her corner since I can't be, just one."

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spare parts :: {Mycelium & Nico} Jun 8, 2019 17:20:58 GMT -5

Post by 🌱 kaitlin. on Jun 8, 2019 17:20:58 GMT -5

no one saw the moon
that bled in my mouth.

i felt the taste of fire,
of blood and carnations

Nico wonders, selfishly, if anyone had fought for him like this.

The girl stands before him, and it's all Nico can think about, all that he can think to even imagine. He remembers that morning all too well, remembers the week leading up to it even better. He remembers picking fights, remembers telling Reggie that he was planning to volunteer and the quick punch to his face that it had gotten him. He remembers being glad for it a couple of hours later, as much as it had made him feel even more alone than he'd felt in years.

If he volunteered, and he died, maybe it would make it easier for Reggie to move on, to let him go—he was a fucking idiot asshole, he might think. It's better this way. He'd sat down with Taylor and told her the same thing, that he was planning to leave her, and she had shaken and trembled as he had never seen her before, watched as every single one of her nervous ticks took hold of her little body.

Nico had hated himself for that, hated that their last interaction had been him abandoning her, but he needed to leave, needed to go, needed to win and commit murder so that he could go on to commit another.

He knows that's not fair.

But he can't change the past.

"I have no idea of your capabilities," she replies quickly, and on another day Nico thinks it might have made him smile, that her boldness and her fire might just endear him to her, but as it is it mostly makes Nico's stomach clench. "I'm taking a total chance because it is literally the only thing I can do for her."

That's desperation that Nico is intimately familiar with, and one that he would only wish on his worst enemies.

He'd never thought to ask himself the question before now, the one about whether or not anyone had fought for him, but he is now. This girl is standing in front of him, holding fast to her beliefs and her courage, and fighting for her sister. Had his mother done that? Had she gone to Arbor and asked him to protect her son? Or what about Reg—had he walked up to Stella and demanded that she look out for him? He knows, at least he's nearly certain, that there had been no one in this forsaken place fighting for him, and that he had done it to himself. He had fractured every relationship he had, shattered them to pieces and them walked away from them like the glass shards weren't ripping apart the bottoms of his feet. Mycelium's voice breaks, but she doesn't let it stop her, doesn't cower away from the pain she must surely be carrying, and Nico knows it's not fair either, but he hates her for it on instinct.

"I also know you can help because all it takes is one voice," Mycelium goes on, and Nico would have to be oblivious to miss the way her voice starts to shake, to miss the little crack of pain and anger bleeding in. "One voice to bring her up, to not let her be left out of the conversation."

Nico feels, again, like there must be some mistake, that he can't possibly be the one voice she needs. Who is he? What gives him any right, save for the blood on his hands? It might all be long washed away, but the stains still stay, buried into his bones, and as Mycelium's own fall to her stomach, Nico can feel his clenching into fists in his pockets. The nails dig into his palms, and he knows that if he isn't careful, if he doesn't calm down, then he'll end up with bloody half-crescents all along his soft skin. "I am sorry for all this, but we have always taken care of each other. So I'm just trying to find one person to be in her corner since I can't be, just one."

Nico clenches his jaw, looks at her hard and tries to bite down all the anger and panic and loneliness and unworthiness creeping up his throat and threatening to ruin everything.

He wants to tell her that he'll fight for Red, that he'll do everything in his power to make sure that she comes home, but he knows that it might not be true. He knows, that push come to shove, he would pick Cedar, too. He would choose his friend, one of the only kind people who Nico has allowed himself to spend any time with over the last year in the Victor's Village. Again, Nico wonders if Stella had chosen Jayne, if all the other mentors from Twelve had taken one look at him and said he wasn't worth their time, that they were going to fight for the mayor's daughter.

Nico certainly had assumed they would, but he's not as sure now, not now that he actually knows them.

"I—" he begins, but closes his mouth again quickly. He wishes he was the kind of person who knew what to say here, that he was the kind of guy who would comfort Mycelium and tell her what she wants to hear. But he is neither kind, nor a liar, and he doesn't have any words for her that she'll want.

"You picked the wrong Victor," he says slowly, fists tight balls. "You should have gone to Stell; she's kinder than I am." He bites the tip of his tongue, finally pulls his fists out of his pockets and runs his palms over his face after glancing to see if there's any blood. He lets them fall away, and then goes on. "I can't promise to be in her corner, not exclusively, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to fight for her."

He takes a deep breath in, shaky with tamed anger and sadness.

"But fuck, it might not even matter. Ripred knows, everyone was probably fucking fighting for Jayne last year, but here I am." He thinks about Saffron, and Katelyn. He thinks about playing games with Kirito's kids, and Stella. Lower District victors with no chance and no hope, but standing anyways. "Anyone can make it out if they have enough will."

1,046.

what are men to rocks and mountains?

a haunted house.