i.am.we | amias.ambrose.blitz

[gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan]

A M I A S Notice of his acceptance to Barrington Academy came with a chipper flourish from Rodney the mailman. Probably, he was excited by the idea of Amias not waiting at the end of the Jumeauxs' disproportionately-long driveway every single day when the mail came, but he convinced himself it was because he knew how... exciting this news would be: how important. He squeezed the old man on the shoulder and reminded him of the upcoming barbecue his parents were throwing in the coming weekend. Celebrating spring, and another hour of daylight. Once inside, he'd of course immediately opened the letter and gotten the good news. It was confirmed: of over a hundred applicants, Amias had been chosen as the lone representative of District Five in an exchange program with one of the most prestigious career training academies in District One. It was, obviously, unprecedented that those from non-career districts receive any sort of Hunger Games training, so he was aware that his luck ran deeper than academia alone. Though, to be honest, academia was among the least of his wants from life. He was more interested in the high life, of the luxurious living style that could only come from a place like One. He'd certainly never find it if he spent his entire life here, on the outer fringes of Five. The only life he'd find here would be something like what Ambrose wanted: an inherited farmhouse with too many rooms to clean, more acres than he'd know what to do with, and the only girl he'd ever loved next to him. Simple. Admirable. Desirable enough to Amias that he'd been too afraid to give up the possibility of it for himself someday just for the chance to go out and see if there was anything better in the world first. Enter identical twin brother. "Did you already chop the wood for this weekend? If not, I'll probably go do that today." Ambrose waited on the porch as Amias climbed the stairs, rickety old wooden boards groaning with the weight of his steel-toed boots. He knew he looked exactly like his brother: so much a part of this land it was undeniable. But he felt... different inside. Supposed he always had. He wondered if Ambrose felt the same, and that's why he'd agreed to go through with their big plan in the first place. "By the way," he said offhanded, looking out at the early-morning horizon as the chickens began to crow out back, "I got in to Barrington." A thin smile stretched across his lips. "We're going to District One!"

[ᴥ]

A M B R O S E "We're going to District One!" Some part of me realizes the moment is bittersweet. Overshadowed by the length of Amias' smile stretching on my lips, made mirrors once again as I turn to face my brother. I'm terribly full of pride, always better at doing than saying so I sweep him up into my arms and squeeze the fucking life out of him. "I knew it." I speak between barked laughter, always a little awkward leaving my lips. It's for the same reason I asked Amias to take my place in moments it was so important to know exactly what you're meant to feel. It all becomes nonsense in between my ears, this terrible tangle of feeling that sits matted at the base of my throat. Easy enough to ignore, harder to put into words. "I'm so proud." Force it out, just this once. Amias' ambition is so much larger than mine. A wash of neon lights and busy streets, as close to magic as we've managed to get in Panem. He gets this yearning look in his eye whenever he talks about the life he wants to live, of the bitter stench of body odor in packed stadiums. Neither of us is stupid enough to want anything to do with the Hunger Games, but it's adjacent glory is undeniable. I truly love our stupid little life on this stupid little farm. Amias does too, it simply has never run as deep. "We'll have to keep journals." Pivot, quickly, from those gooey emotions. I draw lines on the fraying wood of the railing, a game plan. "Everything that happens here, everything that happens there. Gory details and all. We need to know exactly what's happening." We've never had a life away from each other. I think I'll miss him. "Even all those times you strike out with the pretty girls from one. Promise I won't laugh too hard." He knows I'm lying. We share that bad habit.

[gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan]

A M I A S "I knew it." Of course he did, Amias thought: he was the one who'd spent weeks writing an essay about how Amias was the only viable option for the position. He'd tried not to dwell on it too much- he liked that Ambrose was better at that stuff. It allowed him to be good at what he wanted to be good at instead, after all. And then, also to contend with: the fact that they were going to be apart from each other. Amias was never exactly thrilled to flash the cliches of twindom, but it was entirely true that he and his brother understood each other more deeply than either of them would ever be able to understand anyone else. Next to this, sleepaway camp at age twelve and that stent in the hospital for pneumonia at age seven: a week apart, tops. And this was- "A whole semester..." Saying it out loud made it sound heavy, somehow, like even the word was struggling to get where it was going. "Right-" Amias interjected. He hadn't even considered how they'd keep each other up to date until that moment, but- "that sounds smart. Can't let anyone else get ahold of them, though. You'll have to hide yours someplace better than where you hide your Huthler magazine. I bet even Mom knows about that one!" Amias smirked absently, tucking the acceptance letter into his back pocket. "You seeing Finch today?"

[ᴥ]

A M B R O S E I've done my best not to envy Amias. It's a useless thing to do, after all, when there's so much common ground between us two those little differences stand out all the more. Still, times like this I find it hard. The way his joy is written plainly on his features and it's so fucking easy for him to feel - to express. He doesn't even know he makes himself incredibly endearing, he's always just been like that. Starting fresh in a new district, surrounded by hostile strangers looking for any excuse to write off the farmland trash sounds like a fucking nightmare. I'm quite glad I'll be coming in when they're all properly warmed up by Amias' good nature. "Gonna have to find someone else to wash your socks." I wrinkle my nose, expression more comedic than disgust. "Think you'll pick up a city boy accent in that time?" It's funny to imagine Amias talking like those posh snobs on television. Something deeper twinges in my gut. Is this the part we become strangers? "I plan to bury it, if you must know." I sniff, an indignant heat in my cheeks, "By that fallen tree with the hollow stump." An insignificant artifact of bored children and their endless wandering. "Guess it doesn't matter if anyone finds yours. Might tip them off that you're a bit weird, though." My affection is so often buried beneath a sharp tongue. Even after all these years, the mention of Finch never fails to make me delightfully nervous. "Oh, god, we're going to have to tell her you're leaving. What if she cries?" No worse thing in the world, if you ask me. "I'd hate that."