It's All for the Loss [kay]

[pthalorarity]

Through each regret and each goodbye
was a mistake too great to hide

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A Prelude: Upon traveling to District One to support the Earthquake efforts with the other invited Victors, Julian’s first priority was of course to find Mace. Through their phone calls, they had continued to grow closer, but all that was quickly ripped apart when Mace informed Julian about his incoming child with Aranica. Julian felt used, lied to and betrayed, and Mace, being the [not so] smooth talker he is, only perpetuated the situation further than necessary. The two of them have not spoken since, yet in the wake of this falling out, Elon became Julian’s confidant and the two have grown quite close, talking nearly every day.

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It was so strange to find himself once more in the stables that held the chariots of the Opening Ceremonies, guiding his two tributes to the very one he ridden only a year prior. He had been so proud, so full of blood lust and vengeance. That Julian was hardly recognizable now. Though his lethally trained frame remained the same and his eyes remained cold and his hair golden, his heart had shifted in so many ways. As he looked around the room, the ghosts of Avon, Shrol, Reyes and the others walked all about him in what were some of the last moments of their lives. He was not truly surrounded by ghosts now though… at least not yet. Twenty-three of these children soon would be though; they would join the tributes he killed… they would join Midas.

Unfortunately, part of his duty as a mentor was to eye the competition and Glitch was now very pointedly directing him to walk about the room and size up the other tributes. She had been not only assigned to escort the tributes this year, but also with guiding Julian through his first year as a mentor. She had made it very clear just how much of a burden this task was.

He had not yet watched the full recap of the Reapings. Though he had kept an eye on the career Districts, he for the most part ignored the lowers. This time however, it was not due to his blatant disregard of an underdog District's abilities; he simply could not bring himself to see Mace Emberstatt on the screen. In fact, he could hardly bare to see Mace in person now. There was so much between them, so many unresolved feelings that Julian had been too afraid to address. He felt betrayed and used when Mace had broken down his glacial barriers and then left him so utterly exposed before dropping him back into the crimson sands of his Arena to suffer in solitude. His only solace in the few months since had come from a surprising source. When he could not bear not to call any longer, he had been met with Elon’s voice on the other side of Mace’s home phone line. Since that day, Elon had kept him up to date on Mace, but more importantly, had been a comfort to Julian in and of himself. Elon never failed to brighten Julian’s spirit and to guide him back to the present, out of his inner mind's prison, for those brief but beautiful moments. Julian often wondered just how Mace felt about those phone calls, or if he even knew…

His heart rate quickened and his stomach churned as he drew nearer District Ten’s area. He could make out Mace’s broad shoulders ahead, his back turned to Julian at the present. The knife that so often pierced his heart when Mace crossed his mind shoved itself into it’s favorite location once more as Julian felt himself yearning for Mace’s touch, the sound of his voice… the taste of his lips… His mind floundered for things he might say as he grew closer to the boy who had promised he would never have to miss him.

Suddenly though, Julian was stopped in his tracks. Something wasn’t right… because there, standing with Mace, was Elon Emberstatt… Had Mace brought him with him as a guest? His eyes quickly darted around the District Ten area. He counted the stylists... the escort... Mace… a female tribute… No…

Julian’s heart seemed to stop entirely as Mace’s knife jabbed further inside of him, and he found the world spinning while he struggled to breathe. He had to breathe though; he had to run! And he was running; Julian ran straight to Elon, leaping into his arms and wrapping his own around the tall boy’s neck. He didn’t even have time to attempt to build up his walls before the warm wetness of his tears began flowing rapidly down his cheeks. He opened his mouth to speak, but choked out merely a sob as he pressed his face against Elon’s. This could not be happening. Everyone Julian had ever cared about, any friend he had ever cherished had been ripped from his life now. Midas was gone, Clarity was as good as gone… as was Mace… and now…

“You don’t deserve this,” he cried softly into his only remaining friend’s ear. “I am so sorry, Elon. I’m so, so sorry!”

This was all some cruel joke… or a nightmare. It just had to be. Julian knew it wasn’t though. It was all just as he had told Mace on that fateful day that seemed a lifetime ago. Julian Bryze would get what he deserved. His punishment was to be alone, to suffer in solitude and silence as his penance. Elon Emberstatt had brought him too much happiness and far too many moments of parole from the Arena. The Capitol now had to take him away too, just as they did everything else.
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[admin kay]

This is my December, this is me alone, and I just wish that I didn't feel
Like there was something I missed

The beginning of the Games is always a whirlwind behind the scenes - or so Mace tells me. I've been very keen on meeting my nephew but that hasn't happened yet. It seemed odd to me until I realized that Mace wasn't ready to meet him. I didn't have the time, frankly, to sort through that little psychological hiccup. Instead I tried to quiet my worries, to reassure myself that somehow I would get to see the little Emberstatt before. Before.

Marva, my stylist, fussed over me endlessly, using her bejeweled fingertips to keep my copper waves in place. I smiled at her, even though she never met my gaze. I wondered how long she'd been working with Ten, and then I wondered how long prejudice could exist in a person's heart. Had the other male tributes from Ten been so bad as to confirm what she thought of the lower districts? Had Mace? She'd taken a brief pass at him but it was pretty clear that there was no affection between the two. He looked reasonably smart in a dark suit with silver lapels that almost matched the color of his eyes.

Me, though, I'm in the spotlight tonight. Marva has promised that we'll prepare the rest of my glittery cowboy ensemble in the stables, and I feel more nervous when she says that than when I was on the stage in Ten. I'm already decked out in a sparkling bastardization of a Randall's coat, all black and white and Capitol-studded bling. Mace is characteristically quiet as we make our way towards the lower stalls, but I know better than to wait for him to talk. I watch his face instead, note the way his chin tilts as we amble past Two's stalls, the way his gaze turns under his lashes.

"He'd forgive you if you asked," I say quietly, so quietly I'm not sure he hears, and then his jawline tenses. My gut flips and I have to actually remind myself twice that Mace won't hit me any more; I need to be unbroken to make it out of the arena. The prospect of the chariot ride is enough that I don't push my luck. Instead I turn my attention to the two Arabian beauties who will lead Miss Lyvers and I into the procession. Mace yanks Olive aside and I have to suppress a smile. I gather they've had a few run-ins in the past.

I'm looking for apples, or any sort of treat to provide my steed, when there is a flash of blonde and I am entangled in limbs. I know Julian's voice so well now; it is his good, clean scent that surprises me as I fold my arms and heart around him. "Hello to you too," I try for something light, maybe funny, but it's so soft and on the edge of my constricted throat, I don't think it helps. Certainly I feel worse for having said anything at all as now the emotions are gushing up out of me, and in no time I'm crying as well. "It's okay. You'll be okay," I say, because it's the only truth I can come up with.

And through the blur of my tears I almost think I hallucinate. But no, my brother really is that stupid. He's seen us, clinging to one another, and that look of grey fire and rage contorts his face into an ugly mask. I steel myself for the blow, my spine rigid as I tilt my chin up, trying to angle Julian away. But instead of hitting me, Mace punches one of the approaching camera crew, shoving the poor lad right into Olive. I suck in a breath and then whisper into Julian's ear, right against my cheek, "Mace just bought us a few minutes. Let's go around the horses, hmm?" I jerk my head towards the back of the stall, keeping a careful eye on the cameras.

It is one thing for Panem to see me cry, and quite another for anyone at all to see Julian.

banner credit: it's a love story
lyrics: linkin park my december

[pthalorarity]

Through each regret and each goodbye
was a mistake too great to hide

[/i]
[/color]Julian’s breath was ragged as he gasped after his sob. You’ll be okay.[/b] That was not what he wanted to hear at all, but it was always what everyone told him. Midas had said something similar when he left for the Games as well. It wasn’t fair the Julian always had to be the only one to be okay. It was lonely… and in truth, you could hardly call whatever he was “okay”, alive was a far more suitable word.

In the haze of his emotions, the idea that he was being watched by the nation right now had not even struck Julian. Usually he was so brutally aware of the constant limelight, but the sight of Elon standing in place he should never have seen… it was all too much at once. Despite his current situation with Mace, Julian couldn’t say he wasn’t thankful that he had been looking out for him by taking out a member of the Camera crew. He was far too highly celebrated in the nation to be crying over anyone from such a lowly District... or crying at all really. It was excusable in the Games, but certainly not here, not now. The fact that it was not allowed though certainly didn’t stifle his tears.

He let Elon pull him along to the shadows of District Ten’s little prep area. He felt too numb to move otherwise. How could this have happened? With his own Reaping just after Midas, and now Elon… he couldn’t help but think there was something quite controlled about at least some of the selected tributes. Gamemakers do love their ratings.

Julian sniffled and tried to wipe away the wetness of his cheeks with his silver sleeve, but the tears continued to flow. This was still too surreal, and losing Elon could not possibly be an option. He had so often imagined a day when perhaps he and Mace had made up and the three of them … well that daydream would forever have to remain just that—a dream.

“Elon, I’ll do whatever I can! I’ll help you train. Maybe you can win,” Julian half spoke and half cried. His face was perfectly red and splotchy now, even through the Capitol make up. He was always an ugly crier; something his mother had constantly reminded him of as a child to keep him from doing so. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” he said as he tried to cover his face. “I’m so selfish, I shouldn’t be crying. But all I can think of is that if something happens to you, I’ll be all alone again! I… I don’t think I can bear it!” Julian fell forward into Elon and wrapped his arms around him once more. Despite his usual tendencies of keeping his distance, that had never been the case with Elon who always made him feel so comfortable voicing his thoughts. In this moment of just the two of them, he felt comfortable to whisper softly, "You've become my best friend."

“I’m going to do everything I can to get you out of the arena alive, I promise,” Julian added more loudly into Elon’s chest. The ridiculous Capitol ensemble was unpleasant against Julian’s cheek but he didn’t care right now. He pushed back anyway though to look up at Elon. He tried to smile, but it was still more of a grimace as he tried to lighten the mood. “Maybe if I put on a red wig, they’ll let me go in your stead?” He wasn’t entirely joking.
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[admin kay]

This is my December, this is me alone, and I just wish that I didn't feel
Like there was something I missed

The smell of horses and hay is deceptively familiar. I try not to fall victim to it, to the memories it evokes, but as I venture into the shadows of the stall I'm reminded of home. Real home, not the victor house I keep crystal clean. The community home, full of rugrats and hand-me-downs and half-lived lives. The horses, when we had them, were a source of comfort for all of us, more than the cats or the chickens or the cows. I was very sad to see them sold off, but in the end finances were too tight for such an extravagance. I know Mace has missed them too, and we have both loved taking care of Whicker.

Tears spring anew as I settle behind one of the Arabians, thinking about the old stud, wondering if Mace will up for the challenge of caring for him full time, day in and day out, mucking his stall and checking his hooves. Tedious, simply tasks - just the sort he hates. But I feel a flicker of hope that old, resilient Whicker will be okay, even without me. Really it is very likely that everyone in Panem will be okay without me, even my brothers, even my best friend.

My tears are quiet as they chase each other down my freckled cheeks. "You have your own tributes to train. Congratulations, by the way. Worthy foes." A ghost of a smile forces my lips open, catching some of the tears. My mouth is full of salt, the prelude to blood. I can almost catch the tang of it in my tears as I wind my arms around Julian, holding him, keeping myself together in his arms. "Don't apologize. You should always respect your feelings." It was a plea and a little bit of my left over teaching of the little ones. Feelings are good - they are life. Indulge in them when you can.

And I am ever so indulgent as I rest my cheek against his, feeling the dizziness of emotions and dehydration. It feels good - really good - to actually physically connect with someone. I can't even remember the last time I was hugged. It is too much, though, the crying and the talking and the standing around. I'm not built for it. Without any sort of preamble I take Julian's hands and sink into the pile of hay, holding fast to that connection. The transition is not as smooth as I'd like it to be (but when is anything) but somehow, we manage. With my spine flush against the wooden stable container, I wrap one arm around Julian's shoulders and the other I leave loose around his abdomen, toying with his fingertips.

"You're my best friend too," I blurt out, even though I know it's a terrible thing to say, the sort of thing that lives in the bottom of your stomach forever. I want to take it back immediately, chew on my salted lower lip as the tears dry up. I can't leave Julian without a best friend; he has no idea what selfish truly looks like. Although with the red wig, he might be closer.

I smile, because it seems like the right thing to do, even though it burns my face. "You can't, and I don't want you to. I can do this. I mean I don't, you know, what to get your hopes up. But I'm ready. I think - I think I have been ready since the reaping for the 59th. And you do have a best friend, Julian. And it isn't me." I squeeze the hand over his stomach and then run it through my copper waves, looking between the horse's feet for Mace, who is still doing a damn fine job of distracting the camera crew, this time with an interview, which is a very refined sort of torture for him. I incline my head forward, the smile now genuine. "He misses you. He doesn't say anything, but he listens in on our conversations, and for awhile after everything in the house is peaceful."

Without realizing it I've closed my eyes, sunk back against the wood, into the hay, into the memory of some place safer, more familiar. And I can be there, just for a moment, my arm around Julian's shoulders, relaxed and content. And it is all I've ever wanted out of life.

banner credit: it's a love story
lyrics: linkin park my december

[pthalorarity]

Through each regret and each goodbye
was a mistake too great to hide

[/i][/color]

It was so nice to feel Elon’s arms around him as he pulled him into the hay. Honestly, it was just nice to feel some assemblage of physical connection with anyone. He had not done so since his brief moment in District One with Mace until everything had been ruined so suddenly. Julian should have known better to believe in anyone in that way again. Midas promised he would come home… he lied. Mace promised Julian would never have to miss him…he lied. His grandmother had once taught him a saying. “Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice…” well, more often than not, the second time ended in the fool’s injury on Julian’s behalf. Elon though… he never would have expected it of him. Granted, it was not his fault in any way at all. Julian was not going to be fooled into this ever again though. Closing himself off was for the benefit of not only those around him, but himself. He couldn’t hurt any more. The point of it becoming to much had long since passed, and every day was a chore… and now the only relief he had from that would be gone.

To hear Elon speak of Julian’s tributes brought on a new sort of guilt in and of itself. He couldn’t help but wonder what could have happened if they had been Reaped together… if Elon had casually mentioned Julian as a worthy foe. The notion of ever hurting someone as kind as Elon inflicted pain like no other. Even worse, Julian knew he had. Shrol Raidan was of the same kind of Elon Emberstatt, and Julian struck him down with vicious determination. He was the monster. He deserved the fate of facing the Sixty-first Arena, not Elon.

His heart sank as Elon admitted Julian’s sentiment in return. That had to be what had caused fate to strike down Elon. No one was supposed to be close to Julian, ever. Nothing good came of it. All Julian knew how to do was kill, so it seemed everyone around him had to die. He couldn’t fully give up hope on Elon though, not yet. “I’ll be rooting for you,” Julian said, his voice calmer now as his immediate sense of hysteria began to fade somewhat. He had to have hope, that was all there was left.

“He does not miss me,” Julian said coldly as his eyes followed Elon’s to Mace. “And if he does, I’m sure anyone attractive enough would be fine in my place.” His words were double-edged, and they hurt Julian himself even as he spoke them aloud. His tone shifted to one of sorrow though, allowing himself to be vulnerable as he so often did when speaking to Elon. “He deserves better anyhow. I’m damaged goods, Elon. Whatever energy drives this world… it’s meant for me to be alone for a reason. If seeing you here tonight isn’t proof, I don’t know what is.” Tears were quickly filling his eyes again now, blurring Mace’s silhouette from his vision. Julian missed him more than he could say, and he was sure Elon could see well through that; he read Julian so well. Mace had broken his promise though, and Julian didn’t have time to keep letting his life be broken apart by the men he loved. He was Julian Bryze, the Victor of Victors—literally.

Julian took a deep breath before releasing Elon’s fingers from his grasp and pulling aside the neck of shimmering, silver shirt. He reached down and pulled upward on his necklace, revealing the braided leather that Elon had given him as a parting gift from District Ten during the Victory Tour. It had been meant as a bracelet, but Julian had an odd distaste for anything constricting his wrists. He fiddled with the ends, undoing the knots that latched the bracelet ends to a chain. Once the braid was free, he quickly placed it in Elon’s free hand.

“I don’t know if you brought a token, but if you haven’t… well it’s from your home… since you gave to me and all… and it can also help you to remember me… remember it’s possible to make it out… to be strong.”

Julian swallowed hard, trying to compose himself, “But also remember, Elon: you are not me. You are no a monster, and no matter what happens, no matter what you feel, you’re doing it to survive and you’re going to be okay.”
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[admin kay]

This is my December, this is me alone, and I just wish that I didn't feel
Like there was something I missed

While the ruckus beyond the horses continue, I'm filled with gratitude towards Mace and our styling team, who haven't come looking for me. Instead, they're working hard to keep his hair gelled, his crisp, his nose free of oil while he interviews. I hadn't realized how desperate Panem must be to hear from him, because most of the calls requesting answers had stopped long ago. I probably should have encouraged him more, given the reporters a little tidbit now and again. But at this particular moment, all of that neglect was working out quite well for me, and no doubt Julian as well. I knew that as soon as they were done pestering Mace, they'd once again look for Panem's favorite victor.

I squeeze his shoulder, feeling the taut muscles underneath. It is such a simple movement, one that I would do to any of my brothers, and yet... and yet now it makes me want to blush. The feeling warms me as he talks about Mace and his perpetual inability to open up to anyone. Sometimes I wonder if that's my fault - our fault, the three brothers that followed in his shadow, never demanding anything of him, letting Mace order the world according to his own twisted view. We should have stepped in and said: look, emotions are not the enemy.

Although right now I wasn't about to give Julian an award for being particularly insightful, emotionally. I almost wanted to act like my oaf of a brother and snort, but I refrained, settling for a soft smile instead. "Mace isn't like that any more, trust me. You know how quiet our house is. And it isn't like he's so perfect either, Julian. I mean, look at him." I jerk my head towards Mace even though we're both already staring at him. When we aren't talking, it's almost too easy to hear what he's saying, how he's completely wrecking the interview, talking first about Whicker and then snapping when someone tries to turn the conversation to the current Games situation. I'm suddenly very thankful that it isn't me that has a camera thrust in his face, because I don't know what I would say. Something to my family, perhaps?

Julian interrupts my line of thought as he digs into his shirt. I sit up straighter, let my arm fall away so it's easier for him to get to the necklace. I recognize it immediately and wonder why he's returning it. Maybe he doesn't want to remember me, after. Maybe this is all I have left.

I try to swallow around the lump in my throat as I curl my fingers around the rough leather. "Thank you," I whisper, because any louder and I would start to cry again. It takes me a moment to find some courage to not follow that line of thought - the part that dangles after - and then I quickly knot the gift to my wrist. It suits, and I hadn't even considered bringing anything else from Ten. I stare at it, thinking of Cygnus and Icarus, of my Stromstatt sisters, of Ma. When I look up to Julian again I can barely see through the waviness of unshed tears.

"I may not be a monster, Julian, but you aren't either. I just - I don't know how to do this. How to not let you and Mace and Olive and everyone else down. But I'll try."

banner credit: it's a love story
lyrics: linkin park my december

[pthalorarity]

Through each regret and each goodbye
was a mistake too great to hide

[/i][/color]

A small, genuine laugh escaped Julian’s lips as his attention was drawn to Mace blundering his interviews. He certainly was a brute, but Julian had never met one that was more endearing than the beefy victor of District Ten. He quickly shook images of Mace from his mind though; to let him back in would be too painful and that was a dangerous place to let his mind wander. Besides, there were more important things to be dealt with in the moment, such as Elon’s eminent death…

“We aren’t the ones you need to impress upon, Elon,” Julian said as his eyes drifted toward the camera crew. “They are.”

With a heavy sigh, Julian pulled himself up to stand. Elon wasn’t the only one who had to show off for the camera, and Julian probably should have already been back into Two’s area. Being seen hanging around with Mace and Elon wouldn’t necessarily make the best impression upon Panem… He delicately dabbed at his eyes, hoping his makeup wasn’t too askew, although the redness of his cheeks would surely give him away.

“Well, I guess I’d better get back to my tributes. I’ll see you in the training center, Elon. Put on a good show, okay?” He didn’t dare hug him again with the cameras about, so instead he forced a smile as he swallowed back the lump in his throat.

Once he had readjusted his hair and clothing to what he hoped was camera suitable, he made his way to the exit of District Ten’s stable, past the camera crews and past Mace. Before he made it very far though, he couldn’t help himself but to look back at Mace once more as he struggled in front of the cameras. For just a moment their eyes met, and time stood still for them. Julian tried to smile, to find words to mouth to him, but it was too painful. Instead, he glared with his eyes of ice and turned to walk away. Because that was easier, wasn’t it? To keep Mace pushed away…
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