wanna make an effort | [mackenzie/avriel]

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

He always hated hospitals. Everything was just always so... clean. Growing up in the middle of Panem's most forested district probably had something to do with it, he decided, hands in his pockets while he waited in line, swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Ah, Mr. Pryce-" the nurse behind the counter said as he stepped up- "Still no update, I'm afraid. No news is good news!"

He grumbled. Torian was scheduled for release at 11 am, and it was clear that no amount of pestering this year would help speed up that process. He supposed every situation was different, but kids were resilient. He was okay. He had to be- the Capitol wouldn't let anything bad happen at the very least because they needed their victor. Whether Torian, or even the boy from Ten who would've won instead were who the Capitol wanted wasn't a factor anymore. Torian was the last one standing.

Mackenzie turned, made his way back to the end of the short hallway, took a seat in an otherwise completely empty room, twiddled his thumbs and hummed along to the new Paris VB music video playing on the monitor next to some step-by-step infomercial about lower back surgery.

The doors opened, and before anyone could even step through them Mackenzie was already on his feet. Instead of the doctors he was hoping to see, though, he was puzzled to find Avriel Baptiste stepping out of the elevator and into the infirmary.

The last time they'd spoken, Avriel was standing next to Aspen's grave and Mackenzie threatened to have him kicked out of the District. To be fair, after that Games he had returned to Seven to a failing marriage and a toddler with an over-curiosity for death. Getting Aspen back home would have been a mercy granted to him at any point as a mentor, but particularly in a time when no other mercies seemed to be coming his way. Seeing the reason it didn't work out standing over her final resting place at that point had been too much for him to swallow down.

That was over half a decade ago, though. And after all, the kid had only been trying to survive.

"Uh, hey."

He recognized the awkwardness that came with the situation, but ultimately it was a necessary feeling if Mackenzie wanted their last conversation to be something different. He gestured toward the front desk.

"The, um- He's not out yet. They said he's doing well so far, though."

A quiet beat. While Mackenzie was well-aware he wasn't a great communicator, he always found it particularly difficult to get a read on Avriel. He couldn't tell if the other victor hated awkward silences any more than he, but eventually Mackenzie's own discomfort won out, so he spoke further, trying to sound kind, interested.

"Did you meet him before the Games, or?"

[gamemaker kelsier]

He's got flowers again for a kid from Seven.

This time bought from the Hospital gift shop, bundled up pretty with a bow. They sit on Torian's nightstand now with a card tucked in between the stems, a 'congrats & sorry for your loss. talk anytime.' scrawled inside with Avriel's number beneath it. The carefully arranged bouquet is a far cry from the handful of wildflowers that he brought Aspen the night his train got stuck in Seven four years ago.

Maybe the flowers will die before Torian opened his eyes anyway. 

Avriel doesn't want to wait to find out, he never does with victors from the Fourth and Seventh district. He just leaves the flowers beside an empty bed, nods at a confused looking nurse and slips back out towards the infirmary's entrance.

Av figured out a few years ago that as long as you move purposefully enough, you can just go wherever you want to and the likelihood of someone stopping you is slim. Not that many people are brave enough to stop a victor in their tracks. People look at you different after having seen you kill someone in cold blood on live television.

Like they're not entirely sure that you won't do it again.

Hmm.

His hand curls into a fist at his side as he walks, feeling the loss of the flowers, feeling the loss of a knife in his hand, always. It's like there's nothing to sink his teeth into these days, nothing to bruise his knuckles on. Eden's so gentle with him, light questioning touches designed not to scare him but being in the Capitol feels like there's a hand around his throat. The suspense is killing him, he has no idea when the grip is going to tighten.

Strange to be so feral, stranger still to be seen that way.

He pushes his way out of the double doors of the elevator and takes two steps into the waiting room before he notices Seven's last reigning victor sitting against the wall.

Avriel pauses, his eyes flicking once towards the exit before landing back on Mackenzie Pryce.

"Uh hey," Mackenzie says to him.

Avriel stares, wordless. He's not sure if he's supposed to respond. He slides a foot forwards slowly, gaze moving back towards the exit, maybe he can just leave. Nope. Mackenzie keeps talking, like they're old friends or something. His tone is light and open.

Avriel's fist tightens, he hides it in his pocket. Part of him is ragged still, doesn't know how to lie still. He doesn't really know what to do with this.

"Did you meet him before the Games, or?"

"No," he says, "Just don't want him to feel like he's all alone."

Avriel knows too well what that's like.

He'd always understood that Mackenzie didn't like him. When he'd gone through Seven on his victory tour it'd been brief and he hadn't seen either of the district's victors. Two years later when he'd ended up there again due to bad luck with his train, Mackenzie had threatened to sick the Peacekeepers on him.

In the four years since then, their relationship hasn't changed.

But there's something about the emptiness of the waiting room and the quiet look on Mackenzie's face. Like all he needs is one good tap and he'll shatter.

He knows what that's like too.

Avriel sighs and then he sits down across from the older victor. His hand slips out of his pocket, unfurled, and he leans on the arm of the chair, his chin in his palm.

"I'll wait with you," he says.

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

"No. Just don't want him to feel like he's all alone."

Mackenzie had been there for the waking of several new victors- none from Seven until now- for the exact same reasons. Hearing it spoken back to him was strange. In many ways, he and the boy walking over to him were warped reflections of the same being. A collection of titles: declarations of their lived experiences. Victors. Mentors. Objects, like jewels to be worn. Remnants of their former selves.

The younger victor took a seat directly across from him- "I'll wait with you," he decided. Mackenzie allowed half of a pleased grin before nodding in confirmation. "Cool." At least Avriel was making it easy to leave the past where it was. One less ghost in the crowd of them surrounding the home of his mind.

Survivors.

That's what Mackenzie Pryce and Avriel Baptiste were.

"He's still getting worked on. Probably the, uh-" Mackenzie tapped his finger against his temple, where one of Torian's horns had been in the arena. Thinking of what it felt like carrying the weight of two antlers was enough to make Mackenzie's head ache. Thinking of the potential horror of having them removed was, well, violent in any scenario his fear center could drum up. Not to mention all of the other injuries he would need treatment for- poor kid didn't make it out without fighting for it.

It never got easy to remember how young he was. Mackenzie couldn't imagine making it through something like that when he was that age. With Max at his side, maybe. But all alone, like Torian was at the end? Against trained tributes who were all older and taller? At the very least, Mackenzie was glad that Torian was going home to a pretty great support system. He may have been in pieces, he may not have been. But there were people who'd do their best to put him back together.

"Supposed to be out in less than an hour, though, if that's not too long?"

He glanced down at the fuchsia charm bracelet Violet had demanded he wear this year for good luck. He hadn't thought of it since he'd promised not to take it off, but now that he thought of it, her good luck had totally paid off. He'd have to remind her about it when he got back.

"So," He cleared his throat. Absolutely nailing this. "How's life back in 9 these days?"