son of the nightstalker ❁ karl&haze

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Harbinger blessed her with a notice of comfort, leaving her to sleep under the stars as her final request. That compartment bedroom had been too small compared to the glass caboose where it felt she still had the whole world left to her. She hadn't meant to fall asleep at all, it just came to her like a flu does, heavy and all at once. 

She dreamt of Ines, for some reason, a cousin she hardly knew. That familiar feeling was so haunting, even in the dark of a death sentence she longed to know more of her family. It was all going by so quickly, her nightly visions as fast as the train ride she awoke to. The stars didn't wait for her, the first sight through heavy lids being that of blurred streaks of passing by trees. She could see them through the cracks of the leaves overhead, gentle dots dancing up there like ancestors waiting for her. 

The floor was shockingly cold beneath her bare feet, her shoes and socks slipped underneath the bench she curled herself up upon. A gnawing hunger consumed her, she hadn't even known how long it had been since her last meal. At least twelve hours ago, and her appetite caught up with her distractingly, taking over all thoughts. Haze made her way barefoot to the entry compartment that they had brought food out in originally, back when she was deteriorating under the pressure of it all. The biscuits had gone stale and the slices of ham cold, but just chewing on something brought the life back to her. She groaned with the taste of the Captiol's "sweet" tea, stirring in an additional three packets of crystal sugar into the entire container. 

They could thank her later. 

"AY DIOS MIO-" holy shit, she spits tea as she shouts, a pair of eyes in the dark meeting her back as she looks up. Like a cougar in the dark, that pair bores into her. "Karl?!" Haizea had almost forgotten she had a partner, spending the entire train ride either alone or with Mr. Rhodes, "how long have you been out here?" Doing god knows what! 

[calla]

k a r l .

"sunset smudged across your brow
the guilt of your innocence
a toast to the nosebleeds"

He ends up stuck in place, becomes a fixed feature in the train car like some kind of hunched over gargoyle. Freshly eighteen and already facing back pain - it's a trick of the trade. Body hauling's murder on the spinal cord.

But he sits there with Haizea and Harbinger and Katelyn and Kirito and Kassandra. And then he still sits there when they all just sort of. Leave. One by one.

He blends into the upholstery, forgotten, and ends up there alone, tapping his fingers against his knee. It's possible that he just starts dissociating. The car goes quiet and the automatic lights shut off, the sun casts low patterns against the walls. It'd be funny if they thought they'd lost him, or that he escaped somehow, jumped out of the train or suffocated in the throw pillows, meanwhile he was just where they left him the whole time.

It'd be funny. He laughs about it but his face never moves.

It's not that big of a deal. He blinks and it's dark, he's long and lanky and perched on the back of the couch, shoulders against the window and eating sugary sweet cereal out of a bright yellow mug that says MARSHA MARSHA MARSHA !

There's an avox that scurries through the car at some point and he stops mid crunch, but she doesn't notice him. It takes another blink before anyone else comes in. Karl kinda freezes again, spoon full of marshmallows halfway to his mouth.

She turns, finally sees him, screams-

"Hi."

His spoon clinks against the mug. Whoever said you couldn't make a second first impression was lying.

Maybe that's a good thing, he's never been great with people. He'd gotten no visitors in the Justice Building - why would he? He's basically a walking ghost at this point. He'd sat alone in the room until one of the Peacekeepers came in and held him against the wall, fished his notebook out of his pocket before he could do anything about it.

"How long have you been out here?"

"The whole time, I think."

The panic's just dulled now. It's fallen into that safe category of numbness he's gotten more and more used to over the years. He's all muted red behind the eyes.

"How long have you been here?"

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If she had to guess, she would say it was well past 10 p.m.. She waved her hands to the ceiling in a successful attempt to trigger the lights, revealing to her the entirety of the afternoon buffet and lo and behold: Karl Jardens. 

She didn't know what to think of him, he somehow hadn't made an impression at all on her until this point. So caught up in the doing's of saying goodbye to two hours worth of Izars, Abii Marie and a very handsome Rhodes, she hadn't thought much of who she was going to be saying hello to afterwards. Even as he joined her on stage, she was ever more focused on her cousin, Yani, being held to the ground, tearing up as red soaked into one of their sleeves. 

Yani hadn't been at the Justice Building; Haizea knew that could only mean one thing. 

"How long have you been here?" He mocks. 

"I dunno, the entire time?" She retorts, stuffing her face greedily with a chunk of dripping pineapple. It was twice as sour as she was, something about Karl watching her in the dark felt foreboding and she couldn't shake the nasty fear that gnawed at her in how he looked at her. Still, he was going to be all she had of home once they made it to the arena, she would have just rathered someone a bit less odd than Karl along side her. 

She didn't know if she could trust him, but she could settle for at least liking him. She shook a can of olives at him, figuring he'd like something as disgusting as them, "want a treat?" As if he was a creature on good behavior, she wondered though, if he had eaten at all.  

[calla]

k a r l .

"sunset smudged across your brow
the guilt of your innocence
a toast to the nosebleeds"

The lights make his eyes water, like he's somehow become nocturnal in the past few hours. He scrunches his face and blinks the sting away and opens his eyes up real wide. It'll probably help if he does it long enough.

Haizea is kind of like the lights. Bright and sudden and kind of making his eyes water.

"I dunno," She bites out, he keeps blinking real hard, "the entire time?"

That's fair, he tells her so, nodding along. She's taking advantage of having a bunch of experienced killers on the train with them, she's more prepared than he is. It's not that he doesn't care, he's just more apathetic. It hasn't quite sunk in yet.

Haze turns away from the table, light halo, can of olives, want a treat?

Karl looks at her flatly, looks at the jar. He can feel the jibe pressed behind her teeth, the boot grinding into his back, the names hurled at him over the broken section of the fence. Silly little cranberry boy, family missing, home gone, more bodies than anyone knows what to do with.

He reaches over and takes three of the olives in his palm, then drops them in his cup of cereal. He dunks the spoon and sticks it in his mouth and chews the whole thing slowly, watching Haze until he swallows unflinchingly.

"You're an Izar." He says finally.

Name like that's practically a celebrity in a place like Eleven. Even the cryptid kid from the bog knows them.

"Sorry, I guess. About all the dead ones."

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Haizea grimaces as he mixes olives with honey oat cereal, the words disturbing and disgusting both coming to mind. He stares at her while he eats and she doesn't break eye contact either, a deer to bright lights, she fills her mouth with a sweet potato and tries to remember how regular people eat. 

Do I just... not... say anything to that? She lets Karl continues as if it's normal, letting out a huff of a laugh once he's finished. Weird, maybe he didn't like her, maybe she didn't care. Eventually, she has to look somewhere else, the sight of Karl getting too strange for her stomach and she cares more of food than anything right now. Busying herself with the tinfoil wrapping, she unsheathes the rest of her sweet potato before he says anything at all. 

"You're an Izar."

"Unfortunately," she responds, tearing a chunk of potato off and tossing it into her mouth. Perhaps that was hasty of her, but she woke up with this funny feeling telling her that last name was the only reason the Capitol even cared about her. A blessing and a curse, she loved her family now, but was all of the adjustments really necessary if she was just going to die in the end regardless? Sure enough, three years into being an Izar and here she was.

On this train, across from Karl of all people. "Don't be," she says to his half apology, some kind of backbone developing as she chews through another chunk of sweet potato. It's not as if she knew them anyways, as heartless as that was; she could still mourn the people they would have become, she just never found the time. "For every Izar we've lost, there's three more waiting at home," like sheep for the slaughter, just waiting for it. 

She can't wait to change the topic, "how's your family?" Any friends? She almost tacks on, but shies away from another awkward conversation.