>>They Cried to Boreas [59th Hunger Games Finale]
Dec 8, 2011 15:01:47 GMT -5
Post by L△LIA on Dec 8, 2011 15:01:47 GMT -5
I have called you children
I have called you son
What is there to answer
If I'm the only one
[/center]I was dead before I came here. Mine was a body so numb it flickered between the Now and the Nothingness, where thoughts were given to me by the gods of phantasmagoria because I could no longer remember how to make my own, and after that there was no telling the difference between sleepwalking and lifewalking. Not that it would have mattered; I never knew anything that knew me back... not until now. My mother's death hollowed me out and left me empty and futureless, but Sundra's death fills me up until I have to lock my jaw and hold my breath to keep it all in. If she can't hold onto life anymore, then maybe I can hold onto life for the both of us. I am a widow in white, something like the opposite of mourning, because with her I have become defiant. The smile on my face is determined to send her off without damp eyes or apologies — tears are for regret and I regret nothing when I look at her.Morning comes in Paradise
Morning comes in light
Still I must obey
Still I must invite
When her finger brushes against my cheek, it is as though she is drawing war paint across my skin. There is no request for violence in her actions, but rather the infinite knowledge that someone must fight for life instead of all this fighting for death. Tracing a matching pair of invisible lines across her cheeks, they are meant to remind her that we have lost battles, but not the war, Sundra Bloom. The war we won, because we are warriors of a better kind. Like a confirmation, she pulls my token from her pocket — a worth-nothing copper coin we turned into a priceless promise — and kisses it (til death do us part) before all the life in her attempts to go out her eyes. "Now you see me," my smile starts to fade as I reach up and shut her eyelids, a last act to help her hold everything in, "now you don't."
If there's anything to say
If there's anything to do
If there's any other way
I'd do anything for you
[/color][/center]If there's anything to do
If there's any other way
I'd do anything for you
There is no moment of silence for her passing, no pause to show respect for the dead or the widowed, for brotherhoods or simple humanity. Instead the clang of metal on metal rings through the air, the toll of a funeral bell that strives to announce the arrival of a different casket, as a knife bites through my coat to collide with the armor covering my back. We don't have time for your life, Aesop Bloom, it says, only your death. Hurry it up already. As I look up, my hand instinctively thunks against my chest, searching for the place where the District Three's knife must have found me, but the space above my heart is untouched and his blade is still in his hand, not caught in the folds of my coat. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, I study him with curiosity. It wasn't you? My head tilts with confusion as I look into his eyes and wonder about him for the first time — not the tribute that killed my brother, not the murderer whose knife just widowed me, but Sawyer Monaghan, the one with enough humanity or respect left within him to give Sundra and I our last moment. It really wasn't you.
I was dressed in embarrassment
I was dressed in white
If you had a part of me will you take your time
Even if I come back, even if I die
Is there some idea to replace my life
[/i][/color][/center]I was dressed in white
If you had a part of me will you take your time
Even if I come back, even if I die
Is there some idea to replace my life
Reaching to grope at my back, one of my hands discovers the hilt of a knife buried in my jacket's fur as my other hand clenches around the small copper coin Sundra's death has returned to me. My thoughts blur as I stand, leaving Sundra behind on the ground to return to myself, to Aesop Bloom, because her death is not mine and I won't dishonor her by pretending otherwise. Sawyer's stillness breaks in response as his blade flies out to cut a gash across my leg, but his is a fair Game now that I've sent myself back to war, so even as I howl out in pain, I'm still turning away from him. It seems I have misjudged both of them. With Mace's blade in hand, I regard the weapon in the space between us once more. "Tell me, would it hurt if I attacked you with your own knife, Mace Emberstatt?" I toss it up into the air out of habit, before catching it and holding the sharp edge of the blade up to my own neck. "Would it hurt if I tore open my own throat, right now, in your name?" It should. "Sawyer," I gesture blindly behind me, "he gave me a moment of mourning in exchange for killing Sundra, but not you? You have so little respect for the living and the dead?"
Like a father to impress
Like a mother's mourning dress
If we ever make a mess
I'll do anything for you
[/color][/center]Like a mother's mourning dress
If we ever make a mess
I'll do anything for you
"I was dead when I met you. You saw; you know." Drug-addled memories of both the Training Center and Bloodbath loop through my mind, a blur of blood-angels and girls with skin like candle wax. Somewhere along the way there is the burn of interview stage lights that melted my own skin and left me writhing in a sheen of sweat and humiliation at Caesar Flickerman's feet. There was nothing like life in me then. "It was you, all of you, that kept telling me I wasn't allowed to be dead anymore. It's your fault I'm alive right now." Denver's voice echoes across history to possess my vocal chords as I mimic his words in evidence: "What if you hadn’t been able to take care of yourself, huh? You could have left me in that snowdrift, but you gave me a blanket and took me with you instead. I was killing myself just fine before!" There's an ironic CLANG as I beat the flat of Mace's knife against my own chest in defiance or anger or resentment. "Now I'm alive, damn it. And you —" I'm holding the knife out again, pointing it directly at his perpetually flat and
I have called you preacher
I have called you son
If you have a father
Or if you haven't one
I'll do anything for you
[/i][/color][/center]I have called you son
If you have a father
Or if you haven't one
I'll do anything for you
"I want to live for the first time in my life, because of Denver, Alexander, Sundra, you. There's a difference between fighting against something and fighting for something. I know that, Sawyer seems to knows that, but you..." With a measured toss, I send my
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
[/i][/color][/center]I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
[Aesop attacks Mace with his machete]
[dice=200+2000]
[Shallow Cut on Stomach — 4.0 damage]
[dice=200+2000]
[Shallow Cut on Stomach — 4.0 damage]
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