the storm rages on.— [kassandra/prop]
Aug 9, 2021 5:37:15 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Aug 9, 2021 5:37:15 GMT -5
When Six died it was raining.
It was raining both in the arena and here at home. The sky was clearer now, the sun was shining once again. But was the storm over? Not by a long shot. Six was still gone. And I doubted the storm would ever truly end. Would my family ever see clear skies and sunshine? If they did, would I be alive to see it? Or would the storm drown me, whisk me away as it did Six?
I told myself I was just going for a walk and so happened to end up in the Victors Village. But I knew it was a lie. Everyone knew it was a lie. I was there for one thing and one thing alone. I wanted answers. I didn’t care who gave them to me, but someone had to. These people were supposed to protect my little brother, and they failed.
Maybe I should’ve been easier on them, considering my own failures. Ever since the reaping one thought hadn’t left my mind. It should’ve been me. I was his older brother. I should have volunteered. Maybe I would have died, but Six would still be here and that’s what’s important. I didn’t protect him, and neither did they.
When going on my walk, part of me hoped I didn’t see any victors. I didn’t mind confrontation, but I also had no clue what to expect as far as this conversion was concerned. What if they had done everything they could? Six just wasn’t a killer. I knew it. We all did. He apologised for hurting someone. He played with a bug in the arena. He was carrying around a stuffed animal for Gods sake. Maybe it was futile.
But then at the end of my walk, I saw her.
Kassandra Nerys.
She was a couple years older than me if I remembered correctly, and a whole life shorter. Probably even shorter than Six. For a moment, I hesitated. But then, when I saw her face and looked into her eyes, I saw Six dying all over again. I saw the spear pierce his neck. I saw him choke on his own blood as he struggled to let out his dying words.
I reached into my backpocket, took a drink from my flask, and made my way to her. I was never one for elegant speeches and dramatic conversations. Though, Julian Le Roux showed how false those words often are. I was blunt. And I was going to be blunt with her. When I started speaking, I couldn’t stop. A cocktail of anger and grief fuelled my words. I was angry at her. I was angry at the world. And most of all I was angry at myself. All three of us were to blame for my brothers death, after all.
”You, tell me something. Why did you let him die? Why did you fucking let him die!? You were supposed to mentor him! You were supposed to teach him how to survive! And now he’s dead and it’s all your fucking fault!”
I didn’t waste my time or energy on an introduction. It wasn’t needed. All it took was one look at me and people knew. Their looks of pity as I passed said everything. The curly red hair. The freckles. Maybe I was a good six inches taller than him, but I looked so much like Six. And even if she thought I looked nothing like him, she had to know who I was referring to.
There was more I wanted to say, oh there was so much more. But I tried to keep some of it at bay. I didn’t want to get so consumed in my emotions I make a mistake. I didn’t want to cry. Nor did I want to attack her. But, my hands were fists at my side. She wasn’t Kassandra Nerys to me right now. She was Julian Le Roux. She was Mauve. She was the Captiols puppet. She was everything I despised.
