she alone made this wound | larissa day seven

[hesper hart 🐺 d9f]

She climbed to the edge of the clearing, sat herself down next to a wooden post covered in vines of gemstone colored grapes of which she'd never seen. Sad day, the little fruits seemed to whisper, each individually and slightly staggered enough to be as off-putting as it was well-meaning. "Friend of yours?" She asked, watching the hovercraft's arm snake out from beneath it. The end had a sort of claw that was only slightly more advanced-looking than those arcade games where you could spend a coin to try and snatch up a stuffed animal. Gracefully, but in a completely inorganic and horrendously efficient way, the claw scooped Ulysses from the newly formed bed of flowers that'd grown beneath the body, and then a blink later, it was as if none of it had ever been there in the first place. Except the flowers. They were, now that Uly was gone, a memorial. A marker for where it happened.

Another friend of trees, the brightly-colored grapes explained, Like you.

She rolled her eyes. If Ulysses had anywhere close to the relationship with this arena that Larissa had, then he was no friend of the trees. The trees just seemed to be more keen about not shutting up around some people than others and Larissa had finally given up trying to shut them out.

"Sorry."

Though there were many of them, the grapes seemed individually perplexed by Larissa's response, unsure of how to reply. Usually when she backed the plants into a wall like this one, they were happy to not reply at all. Or to giggle. Or to try and change the subject entirely. But finally one grape, a little blue-green one closer to the top, said It was only an end in the ways you can understand it. After that, they were completely silent and Larissa was grateful for it. She wasn't sure what they meant, and also she was disappointed that they were trying to be so insightful for her during a time when she was feeling very critical of herself. They genuinely looked like they would've tasted delicious, but now they'd gone and formed an emotional bond with her. Onions should take notes, she thought: this method was much more effective.

Icarus came back and nestled himself under a massive apple tree across the way, where the ground looked mostly dry. She smiled, grateful for his return, but then her eyes caught on the patch of flowers that now grew in the space between them. Flashes of Eleven's final moments, of that sickening sound his leg made when it fell to the ground separate from the rest of him and the thundering boom of the cannon, and the blood- all intermingled with the blue and white petals of his memory.

She felt guilty for smiling. How dare she be happy when she was the reason someone back in District Eleven would never be able to love in the same way? How dare she be happy to see her gryphon when Xaahira would never get to see her family again? It was a wound of her own making; a sword she'd have to stab through herself each and every time she wanted to stab it through someone else. It was against her nature. She'd been hoping to develop a sense for it, or some secret and twisted desire. But the aftermath was just nausea and guilt and advice from a literal grapevine to make her feel better. But also, she was aware that her traitorous behavior against herself was also the only reason she was still alive. If her survival was some sort of betrayal, she made no apologies for making it.

A movement to her left caught her eye and she saw a bush bunny step into the clearing. After assuring that Icarus was still asleep under his tree, the little creature bounded further and further into the center before pawing up a half-rotted something- some kind of fruit with a stem- and began to chew it up. When it was finished, she expected it to scurry away, back to its burrow somewhere nearby. Instead, she was shocked to see it hop closer and closer to her. She moved, uncrossing her legs so that she was certain it would see her there, but it kept coming. For a moment, she worried it might be sick, but when it got close enough she realized why it wasn't running.

This one wasn't a wild one anymore.

"Tinker?"

It stopped short of where she was sitting just a couple inches for a moment, hesitated, then hopped into her lap. She scratched the creature between its strange, leaf-like ears. And then realization hit.

"Where is-"

Oh no. If Tinker was here, it meant one of two things: Bellamy was also here, which was bad, or Bellamy was dead, which was also bad. She stood hesitantly, a palmful of Tinker in her off-hand while she unsheathed the sword on her back with the other.

"Hello?"

There was only quiet in the moments that followed, and then, from the peach tree who'd warned her that Ulysses was coming earlier, Larissa heard No one but us.

She stood silent for a moment, hoping it wasn't true despite what it would mean otherwise. And then her eyes began to well with tears, so as quickly as she could, she stuffed Tinker into her bag, climbed the rest of the way up the clearing to Icarus, and was back in the sky before the first tear could fall down her cheek.