artemis remembers ; aspen & areto
Jun 24, 2021 20:39:29 GMT -5
Post by d7f amber bosch 🌿 tris on Jun 24, 2021 20:39:29 GMT -5
A S P E N
When the sun fades to embers, I offer to take one last patrol around our camp. Surprisingly enough, it's less about distracting myself, and more of an effort to gain a little peace of mind. Willa and Nora have already acquainted themselves with the canoes we secured from the wealth, but my stomach still flips each time I look out at the lake. And as familiar as the trees around us are, there's a nagging voice in the back of my head that tells me something is out there watching us.
Because there is. Every shadow is the outline of a threat.
I am a terribly reckless person, and at times, I am a fool. That's not really something I can deny. I'm the kind of girl who prefers to talk things through with her fists — and when something in my path refuses to budge, I slam into it. Full force. Over and over, until my bones are aching from the aftershock. I glance down at my feet as I walk, taking a mental note of the clear path through the woods. My spear-turned-walking-stick is still gripped firmly in my hand. Now that it counts, I feel kind of like a cheat.
Top of my class. Months away from becoming a peacekeeper. So proud, and stubborn, and angry. At what, I still haven't figured out. When I need that fire most, it comes to a cold halt inside of me. It's one thing when you're just trying to make your way through life, but — well. Things are different in here. Almost on impulse, I bring my shoulder to my face, nuzzling the fabric there and remembering the way the girl from One's blood had covered my skin. I try to convince myself it'll stop haunting me. That I'll feel clean again.
Some day.
Then there's a quiet snap of a branch, just the slightest vibration that makes me shift my gaze to the intruder who has just made herself known. I take an instinctive step back, but I don't raise my weapon quite yet. I blink in the dim light, recalling her features from a chance meeting back in the Capitol. Areto from Four. A career who seems to have strayed from the pack. We had met briefly in the plants station, unwinding after a couple hours of intense training. It was almost peaceful.
She had a flower between her fingertips, one I couldn't name, so gently that I thought she could have held glass without any worry of breaking it. Despite this, I was acutely aware of the firm curve of her bicep, and the way her shoulders were a solid line. She could have given me hell on the sparring mat, that much I was certain of, but she seemed more content just enjoying the silence with me. We climbed a tree, and I showed her where the strongest ivy grew. She looked at me, and her eyes were deep with wisdom.
"You were made for the island."
Whatever that had meant. Maybe I should have asked.
Now that she's standing in front of me again, my mind can't quite make sense of what might happen next. Being here, witnessing death only hours ago, I don't think I have it in me to search for the flowers again. Still, when I speak, I try not to sound harsh. "Hey, stranger." The sunset catches her curls, settles on her skin like a warm glow. I wonder for a moment what it'd be like to be that centered. My free hand clenches into a fist, and unclenches again. Nothing in me is made to know peace.
And yet, I meet her gaze, and I don't look away.
"Can't imagine you're lost, so that leaves two options. Either you missed me, or you've come to get rid of me. Maybe both?"
Because there is. Every shadow is the outline of a threat.
I am a terribly reckless person, and at times, I am a fool. That's not really something I can deny. I'm the kind of girl who prefers to talk things through with her fists — and when something in my path refuses to budge, I slam into it. Full force. Over and over, until my bones are aching from the aftershock. I glance down at my feet as I walk, taking a mental note of the clear path through the woods. My spear-turned-walking-stick is still gripped firmly in my hand. Now that it counts, I feel kind of like a cheat.
Top of my class. Months away from becoming a peacekeeper. So proud, and stubborn, and angry. At what, I still haven't figured out. When I need that fire most, it comes to a cold halt inside of me. It's one thing when you're just trying to make your way through life, but — well. Things are different in here. Almost on impulse, I bring my shoulder to my face, nuzzling the fabric there and remembering the way the girl from One's blood had covered my skin. I try to convince myself it'll stop haunting me. That I'll feel clean again.
Some day.
Then there's a quiet snap of a branch, just the slightest vibration that makes me shift my gaze to the intruder who has just made herself known. I take an instinctive step back, but I don't raise my weapon quite yet. I blink in the dim light, recalling her features from a chance meeting back in the Capitol. Areto from Four. A career who seems to have strayed from the pack. We had met briefly in the plants station, unwinding after a couple hours of intense training. It was almost peaceful.
She had a flower between her fingertips, one I couldn't name, so gently that I thought she could have held glass without any worry of breaking it. Despite this, I was acutely aware of the firm curve of her bicep, and the way her shoulders were a solid line. She could have given me hell on the sparring mat, that much I was certain of, but she seemed more content just enjoying the silence with me. We climbed a tree, and I showed her where the strongest ivy grew. She looked at me, and her eyes were deep with wisdom.
"You were made for the island."
Whatever that had meant. Maybe I should have asked.
Now that she's standing in front of me again, my mind can't quite make sense of what might happen next. Being here, witnessing death only hours ago, I don't think I have it in me to search for the flowers again. Still, when I speak, I try not to sound harsh. "Hey, stranger." The sunset catches her curls, settles on her skin like a warm glow. I wonder for a moment what it'd be like to be that centered. My free hand clenches into a fist, and unclenches again. Nothing in me is made to know peace.
And yet, I meet her gaze, and I don't look away.
"Can't imagine you're lost, so that leaves two options. Either you missed me, or you've come to get rid of me. Maybe both?"
