Post by nora patterson, 12f ♡ kait on Sept 27, 2019 20:20:06 GMT -5
You feel six feet under.
It's been six months, or maybe a year, or maybe you've died again and come back in another life time—you aren't sure anymore. The world feels like it's been turned upside down. You collected two children that you knew you couldn't protect, two kids your own age who deserved to win far more than you did, and led them to the slaughter. How long ago was it now? It feels like it happened yesterday, like it happened a million years ago, like you will never escape it.
You think about burning your house down. You think about it more than you would care to admit. Is that something you're supposed to be afraid of? To be ashamed of?
You aren't sure.
You don't do it, all the same, chug what's left of a bottle of brown liquor instead and when that's empty, stumble out your front door and into the center of the merchant's part of town. You don't go to the Seam much anymore, too afraid of what you'll find there, of who you'll find there, afraid of a boy with bright eyes and a heart almost as dark as your own.
It's walking in the square that you stumble into him.
"Ah, Jamie," you say, smile bright. Too bright. Blinding. "Always a pleasure running into Twelve's number one try-hard."
You should take a step back, give yourself personal space, respect his. But you don't, and you'll regret it later, you're sure.
Post by Bellamy Scott D3M [Tom] on Sept 27, 2019 21:11:25 GMT -5
A world made with the palms of his hands.
No one told him where he was falling. Carter, his own son, living and dying and living once more as if his wishes were answered, but no one prepared him for the way those youthful eyes lost their glow. Fingertips on the edge of his own son's face, tears mixing with the pain of his own heart, until he can feel the change in Carter Laws. Jack having all but told him some of the late nights and mental illness that haunts his son. As a father, it's the hardest thing in the world to watch, but he had to do something more for his son's sake.
Being mayor of Twelve was the only answer he could come up with, except that's all he's done. Become mayor of Twelve and left his son to deal with his pain. The open door was always there, but his son left to Aranica Petros, the victor with a heart of gold. As long as he went to someone who could help, especially someone as trustworthy as Aranica Petros, he would be happy, but he cant help the feeling of guilt eating up at his chest.
"Ah, Jamie," Nico Thorne. The victor of the eighty first, killer of his daughter. Someone who he really didn't need to see right now in the district square. Too close for comfort, but he's silently waiting to hear what Nico Thorne may want from him. He may be the mayor of twelve, but even he had his limits in the world. "Always a pleasure running into Twelve's number one try-hard."
Try-hard. A smile on his lips as he lets Nico exist in his space. His heart aches for Jayne, but his mind tries to remind him of everything Carter experienced. Killing was a way of the games. None of them were ready for it. Aranica Petros came back broken. Arbor Halt came back empty. Heron Kimberling came back incomplete. Stella Blakesley came back exposed. Nico Thorne came back with pain. Evident in those eyes, even if the kid didn't know it. A small frown fills his face as he stops with a bated breath before speaking.
"Always a pleasure running into one of Twelve's friendliest victors." A smile filled with the sarcasm, but he clears his throat gently before speaking once more. "How are you getting by, Nico?"
Post by nora patterson, 12f ♡ kait on Sept 27, 2019 22:17:23 GMT -5
You know that it is, know that you should be anywhere but here. You know cruelty better than most people in this god-forsaken nation, but still, you constantly call it ever closer, closer and closer and closer still. You slaughter a man's daughter and refuse to run away when you run into him in the street. Does that make you a monster? Every inch the villain that a girl from seven called you once upon a time? Maybe she had it right all along. You killed an innocent girl with flowers in her heart, a girl who wanted nothing more than to just get home to her family, and a girl called princess.
You know cruelty so well that, maybe, perhaps, you have become it.
Your mayor quips back quickly, and you remember that once upon a time he worked in the mines, found himself out of the coal and the ash the honest way. You remember that there's strength in him, as much as you have always hated him and what he stands for; a family of acceptance, of understanding, of open arms and open hearts. A home.
Twelve was never so kind to you.
You smirk at him, all cold amusement, but being asked how he is almost undoes him. You don't let it, but thoughts flash across your mind, run through your head at light speed. How have you been? Fucking terrible. 'I see your daughter in my sleep almost every night,' you could say. 'I hear her voice in my head.' Fuck you, Nico Thorne. It rings and rings and rings and deafens you to everything else. It would be a cruel thing to do, but it would be an honest one.
At least there would be that.
"Why?" you ask instead. "Looking to see if I need to be added to your collection of strays?"