the sword /avriel

[✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ]

a v r i e l .

"You'll always be a flower on my skin
And the pain that I am in
It's all the same."

Avriel jolts awake, his hand landing hard against the scar in his shoulder to quell the bleeding there. His eyes widen, gaze struggling to bring the ceiling of his Capitol apartment’s bedroom into focus. Phantom blood evaporates as quickly as the nightmare that woke him. Beside him Eden turns, a hand falls on Avriel’s where it rests over his heart. Eden’s fingers fold over his palm, soft against his callused skin.

He turns his head to check but Eden's already shut his eyes again. He’s so used to Avriel’s restlessness at this point he can calm him half-asleep.

Av waits for a few moments, then slips out from under Eden’s hand carefully, laying it reverently on the pillow where his head just was. He can never fall back asleep right after a dream like that. The digital clock on Eden’s side of the bed tells him it’s approaching one in the morning, still relatively early. Maybe if he goes for a walk then he can tire himself out again.

When Avriel enters the living room, Scout lifts its head up from its spot on the couch and makes a soft whistling sound.

"Yeah," he says softly, "Walkies."

The Kodama bounces up, a jingling sound as if there is a bell around its neck comes tumbling out from its mouth.

"Hey, shhh," Av whispers as he pulls on his shoes, "You’re going to wake everyone up."

Scout goes silent mid-jingle and then hurries off the couch to join Avriel at the door to the apartment. It jumps up to reach the handle before ignoring the laws of gravity to float slowly back down to the floor like a leaf.

Strange that to Avriel, a creature like Scout has become as common as a cat.

His hand falls on the door handle and Avriel goes still. Scout bumbles into the door impatiently but he doesn’t move.

The handle is warm.

Not burning, just warmer than it should be. His hand has pushed down on this handle so many times, he knows subconsciously how it should feel. This time it feels wrong, like something, vaguely, is off.

Avriel looks over his shoulder, into the darkness of the apartment. He feels a tug in his chest, like the red string that ties him to Eden is urging him back. The walk would be better with him there. Maybe he could talk about it all then, about the things he’s never said that wake him up at night.

He turns, then leans his forehead against the door. Eden already had his sleep broken up enough by him. It’s something that they could talk about later but Avriel never does. In the daylight, the dreams almost seem silly. Everything bad happens at night, it always happens in the dark.

He pulls the door open, Scout slips out through the slimmest crack as soon as it forms and Avriel shuts his eyes, hand shaking, still held fast to the door handle.

Scout makes a soft whistling sound and Av doesn’t budge. He can hear his heart in his ears, it’s pounding so fast. His head swims, he has to hold on the door to stay standing. A soft breeze moves through his hair, tousling it softly, bringing the scent of pine.

Scout chirps again, insistent and a tear rolls down Avriel’s cheek, pools at the bottom of his chin and drips onto his t-shirt.

He opens his eyes.

Scout stands a couple feet in front of him, inner light pulsing softly in the inky darkness. It hits the tree trunks lining the path in front of them, cuts past the jagged bark and ends abruptly at the foot of tangled roots.

”Please,” he whispers, then shuffles backwards.

He woke up already.

This shouldn’t be happening, he’s already awake now.

”Come on, really?” he says, voice cracking with half a laugh. It’s getting ridiculous at this point, ”Again?”

Scout hops from foot to foot, impatient with him. The kodama knows where to go, Avriel doesn’t. It chirps and goes a few paces down the path before turning around to come and tug at the leg of his shorts.

Av leans against the doorframe of the apartment and stares into the empty dark. There’s nothing to see after the area of Scout’s light ends. It’s just blackest black. That was always the wild part of it, it wasn’t night, it was nothing. It was purgatory and that’s what they all lived in, those of them that were left.

”Where you gonna take me?” he asks, ”Areto this time?”

Or maybe it’s just straight to Aspen for another spear in the chest. He winces on reflex, pushing his palm hard into the scar.

Scout rattles in response.

Avriel sighs, ”Let’s go then, get it over with.”

And it’s different.

Like the warm door handle, it’s all off. There’s weight under his feet, of matter. Time moves fluid, seconds follow each other, one after the other. His mouth is dry, tongue heavy in his throat, sticking to the roof of his mouth like sand.

His foot is there, but not.

It’s the one they gave him, not his, held on loosely with the roll of duct tape he had at the bottom of his bag. He knows this because the change in weight was always odd. It took getting used to, for a while he loped along when he walked. Sometimes he still takes it off to sleep.

And this is that foot, attached at the ankle, slightly heavier than his other.

They walk for a long time. The trees tower around them, sleeping giants, but there is no sound. In the arena, that left with the stars. Avriel’s footfalls echo in the dark and Scout’s comforting rattles bounce off the trunks they pass.

Nothing changes for a long time. Time creeps slow, infinite, and fear catches up quietly, lays a hand on his shoulder. When he dreams, Areto’s fire always appears sooner than this.

He stops abruptly.

”When is this?” he asks.

”It’s now.”

”What do you mean?” he asks, politely.

”He can’t come with you this time, Avriel, I’m sorry.”

Gloria leans against the back of the stage, her expression slightly pained. Strangely enough, he believes that she is. In her own way, maybe she does care for him. Or maybe it’s just the fact that last year he was better behaved with Eden there.

”He needs to come,” he says.

”They won’t allow it darling, I really am sorry,” she says, gaze flicking down to the watch on her wrist, before coming back up to rest on him. He hates it when she looks at him like that, like he’s still some pathetic child.

Avriel smiles politely, ”You don’t understand, I’m not asking.”

”Look, I’ve been told to inform you that while out of respect for your position last year they chose to let your transgression slide, Victors are limited to dependants and legal partners and that’s that.”

Gloria looks pointedly down at his ring finger and Avriel’s brow furrows. He slips his hand into the pocket of the mid-length pleated leather skirt Laffy put him in this morning. He finds the rings in there, warm from his body heat. He finished making them almost three years ago.

”He will be,” Avriel says.

Gloria arches a brow. Panem’s anthem starts playing over the loud speakers, the reaping is about to start. Avriel stares back at Gloria, eyes on her shoulder.

”That only works if you mean it,” she says curtly.

”I do,” he says and pulls his hand out of his pocket in a fist, fingers closed tight around the rings. He’s never shown them to anyone. He thinks that Eden should be the first to see them.

”I’m gonna ask him in the Capitol.”

Gloria’s eyes widen slowly, then her face cracks open in delight, ”Oh you wonderful boy,” she shouts to be heard over the swelling notes of the anthem, ”That’s a fantastic idea, we’ll televise it.”

”What? No, I-“

”You!” Gloria says, turning sharply to snap at a peacekeeper standing near the entrance to backstage, ”Go find that sad looking mutt of a man victor Baptiste dragged along last year, get him loaded on the train.”

”That’s not… it didn’t happen like that.”

”What didn’t?” his brother asks.

But he’s only half-listening, pressing uncooked dough into the bottom of a pie pan. Avriel drops the screwdriver onto the kitchen table in front of him, it clatters against the wood, then bounces once before landing on the tile at his feet.

”Duke?” he whispers.

There’s an apron tied around Duke’s waist, flour still somehow on the neckline of the shirt that he wore in his school photos. He’s taller now, shoulders filled out. A lump forms in the back of Avriel’s throat. He’s grown so much. The curve of his jaw reminds him of their father.

”How did it happen then?” Duke asks. He picks up a mixing bowl and starts spooning fruit, apples in a syrupy sauce, into the pie pan.

Their father’s watch lies on the kitchen table in front of him, in neat little rows of pieces organised by use and size. This is how they used to spend Sunday mornings.

Avriel turns his head.

The world outside of the window is a black void.

”Av.”

He looks back up at his little brother.

"I-“ he starts, then stops.

Hands shaking, he clenches them tight into fists, drops his gaze again, he can’t look at him.

”I bought your school pictures,” he says, ”Got the good ones with the blue background because you looked so damned grown up but couldn’t resist and got the dorky one too where they made you pose with the books, I’m sorry.”

"I know."

He freezes, hand stuck mid-polish on the knife in his lap.

Avriel looks up at her, firelight bounces off of her cheek, catches in the corner of her eye, reflecting.

There are shadows under her eyes, dirt smudged on her nose, her curls are a tangled mess at the nape of her neck. Areto still somehow looks beautiful.

Then his gaze shifts down to the blade sticking out of her chest, right where her heart should be. He says nothing, he can’t, but his mouth opens, then closes and another tear trails slowly down his cheek.

”I-“

Areto gives him a half-hearted smile. "I did this," she says, "You know that."

His hand raises shakily, then his fingers brush against the handle of his knife. He feels the patterned metal beneath his fingertips, it's warm to the touch.

Areto reaches out and flicks the end of his nose.

Avriel blinks, then pulls back.

"So that's enough now,” she whispers.

”Enough?” he asks.

”I don’t want to be your bad dream anymore.”

His gaze falls back to the knife, shame blooms slowly on his cheeks and Avriel grimaces, ”I’d make the dreams stop if I could.”

”That only works if you mean it.”

The anthem is ending.

Avriel blinks, disoriented. His hand opens, then closes in front of him. Velvet curtain brushes against his cheek.

”Hello? Earth to Avriel,” the escort snaps her fingers in front of his face, ”We need to get on stage.”

”I- We did this already,” he says. He looks over his shoulder. Peacekeepers stand at the bottom of the steps leading up to the stage, erected yearly for the reaping. Storm’s getting one last look over from Zen a couple of feet away. ”Where’s-“

”He’s in One.”

The crowd goes silent.

Gloria’s brow furrows slightly in concern. ”Avriel, you already knew this.”

”No,” he whispers, mouth dry.

Something close to pity runs over Gloria’s face. ”You must remember darling, when you-“

He slips his hand into his pocket. It’s empty.

”Where’d the ring go?” he asks softly, eyes on anything but hers.

Gloria says nothing for a long moment, just gazes at him quietly before reaching down to take his empty hand. Her skin is warm against his, she squeezes lightly, just once.

”You need to open your eyes,” she says.

Then there’s a hand on his back, pushing, Gloria is turning, she smiles and waves out at the district as she walks out onto the stage. Avriel stumbles backwards, resisting. Storm moves past Avriel, eyes trained on the bowl of names.

He moves clumsy down the stairs, his foot is numb, every step is pain, makes it hard to think. The tape around his ankle stretches his skin, stinging. It tickles a little but he can’t touch it. Touching it is agony.

He breathes funny, ragged. It’s been a long time since he ate anything, longer probably since he actually slept. Scout bounces along ahead of him, making a game of jumping from root to root. Av can’t let the Kodama get too far ahead.

”Eden!” he calls out hoarsely, ”Where are you?”

But his hand is wrapped around one of his throwing knives. His shirt is stiff, scratching against his skin from all the blood in the fabric. It’s too soon for Eden, that doesn’t happen until after the arena.

On the balcony, five more minutes.

”You made it all up.”

”What?”

Billie stares at him across the diner table. There’s a plate of fries between them, mostly untouched. Avriel glances down at them, then turns to look at the rest of the room. The lights are all off, Dale’s doesn’t open for another hour but they needed somewhere to meet.

Her graduation sash is still around her neck.

”…Bills?” he whispers.

”Avriel, wake up,” she says impatiently.

He sits back against the booth seating, brow furrowed. He places his hands down on the vinyl, presses down slightly. It’s warm, solid, like he’s been sitting there with his estranged sister for some time. It doesn’t make sense though, he remembers going to Billie’s graduation but he also remembers getting on the train right after.

”How did you know I was in Six?“

”You’re not,” she shakes her head, ”You know that already.”

Avriel says nothing for a long moment. He picks up a fry, salt gets into a cut on his finger and he winces slightly before putting it back down. ”Yeah,” he says, ”I know.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment. It’s awkward, seeing her again so close. It’s a strange hit of nostalgia mixed with a stinging sensation under the surface of his skin. Except she’s not even here, neither is he.

The world past the diner window is a black void. The both of them stare into it in silence. A faucet drips rhythmically somewhere behind the counter.

”So then what is all this?” he asks eventually.

”Dunno,” Billie says, ”Maybe you’re dying.”

”Your life is supposed to flash before your eyes isn’t it?”

”Maybe this is your life.”

”This,” he says, gesturing between the two of them, ”Never happened. Yeah, I was here, but we didn’t meet. I watched you graduate, I went home.”

”Unreliable narrator,” she says calmly.

”What?”

”I said-“

”I heard you.”

Avriel’s knee starts to bounce beneath the table.

"I just think you have to come to your senses," Billie says after another pause. Then she flicks a fry at him. It goes sliding across the table and lands in his lap. The corner of her lip lifts slightly, "That's a point."

"I'v been trying," he says, then crosses his arms. "I need to find Eden."

"He's gone," she says.

Avriel stares at her. First Gloria, now Billie.

"What do you mean gone?"

"You were awake when they came to collect you," she says, "Out in the hall. They took Eden while you were gone."

Avriel turns his head to his right. The pillow is empty beside him. He breathes in sharply, tries to sit up, then falls back again. "Fwa?" he asks. His body is folding, head connected to his torso by a string, duct tape wrapped around the base of his neck, keeping his head on until they can reattach it.

A hand finds his chest, pushes back gently, "Shh, you're safe." But the voice is strange, he doesn't know it. Billie is gone, so is the diner. Scout isn't anywhere, hiding maybe. That's good.

He grabs at the hand, wrapping his tightly around the stranger's wrist and squeezing.

"Fuck's sake," says the voice.

"He can't handle anymore, that's two doses already," warns a new one.

"Then how the hell is he still this strong?"

"Says in his file he needed a larger dose of anaesthesia in his post-games surgery than most."

"Addict?"

"Just naturally resistant."

"Ow, fuck! Let go!"

Avriel does, hand sliding away to fall open against the mattress. There are two blurry shapes above him, masks over their faces. He smiles weakly, they look stupid as hell.

"Eden," he mumbles, "Where?"

The shapes stare down at him for a beat.

"Fuck it," says the second one.

Something's pushed onto Avriel's face. He raises a hand off the bed and someone's grabbing it, pushing it back down. Then there's smoke forming against his mouth. He presses his lips closed against it, squirming, a hand pinches his nose, closing the airways, he can't breathe.

Avriel gasps, smoke fills his lungs, he's choking on it, body sinking further and further down. Darkness envelopes him, the arena, it's swallowing him, after all this time, it found him. He claws at the air, fights it.

It's not enough.

It's got him.

[✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ]

A V R I E L B A P T I S T E

"Avriel"

The voice is a balm, always has been.

Or it's a rope, tossed out to save him from drowning, fog on the lake. He can't swim, never learned. Lake water fills his lungs, he's going to die, that feels okay somehow, like the better outcome in all of it, his legs hurt and she's-

"Av," the voice singsongs.

He wraps a hand around it.

"Yeah?" he murmurs.

"You have to get up."

Does he?

It's not that he doesn't want to. Just feels like maybe he can't, like his limbs aren't his. His brain sends out signals to move them but they don't. Beneath him, the surface is soft, softer than he ever thought things could be again. Yesterday he was laying in the grass-

no.

That was awhile ago now, a long while.

But then why is she-

"Come on, we have to find him."

Who?

He opens his eyes.

Her hand is on his cheek, tapping lightly but he doesn't feel it. Her curls though, tight, running off her head like a firework, they tickle the side of his face. He feels that. Her eyes are staring down into his, dark brass with a depth to them he never got to the bottom of. Av sucks in a deep breath, eyes wide as he lifts off the bed slightly. His hand flies to his cheek, wrapping over one of hers and squeezing lightly to keep her there.

She sees the recognition in his gaze and it crinkles the corners of her eyes with a smile. She doesn't speak, neither does he. The two of them never needed words to communicate, they were always just complimentary to the conversation.

Still, he breathes out, "Blade," better than he does air.

"Hey," she answers.

"But-"

She shakes her head, "Don't"

The last time he saw her, well.

He can feel the emptiness of her body in his lap still, can see the glassy look to her eyes. Taste the sand on his tongue and the stain of iron in the air. Burnt cherry pie, wooden floorboards creaking under his feet, sweat trickling down his back, she's gone? She's go-

"Av. Really, don't."

He blinks slowly. Nods.

Blade is on the other side of the room, when did that happen? Blue, sterile. Something's beeping. It's a light beep, steady though. He shifts, it's labour to do so, more than he's ever felt. A muted sound leaves his lips, there's pain in his body, untraced. It feels as if someone has filled his veins with lead.

"You were drugged," she says, "And they took him."

Who?

There's a rattling sound near his feet. Scout crawls out from beneath the blankets and stretches, to the left, then the right. The Kodama's light is weak, the way it gets when it hasn't eaten in a day or two.

Avriel sits up slowly, his head feels like it's last to move. The room swims, settling into place in slow motion. His mouth is dry, it's like sandpaper. Blade is sitting on the end of the bed and Scout is staring up at her the way he sometimes stares at the corner of the room as if there's something there, unseen.

"You know who," she says.

"Eden," he whispers.

His hands, they were in his lap but they aren't anymore. Av pulls a sensor off of his chest, hand shaking, head screaming with the machine as the beeping dips into a steady line of sound. "Aaah," he says, fear sending a current through him that rouses him better than any electric shock could.

His body doesn't respond as quickly as he'd like it to, as if every command he sends has to be put to a vote. He rolls off of the bed, landing hard on his side. The pain curls him inwards for a moment before he's scrambling to his feet, grabbing at whatever's close by enough to be used. A stand gets traded for his weight and it goes crashing to the floor. Scout rattles loudly in the excitement and Avriel stumbles over to the door.

His foot is deadweight at where his leg ends in a stump, as if it can't connect to his brain properly. Each movement is heavy-handed, sluggish, he's so thirsty.

Blade's gone or maybe she was never here. Avriel doesn't know if he even knows the difference anymore. People have a habit of disappearing on him, everyone he's ever loved has slipped from his grasp.

He can't, not Eden.

He can't.

His chest heaves with effort, lungs confused about the process of breathing as he uses the wall past the door to hold him up. the lighting overhead is bright, the hall itself clinical. It reminds him of the place that he woke up in as a victor but it's not the same.

Hospital.

But there's no nurses and he's not in a gown. Just pants because he doesn't wear shirts to sleep in, they always end up sweaty. Barefoot, two different colours, slapping against the linoleum as he moves haphazardly down the hall. There's double doors at the end, the kind that swing when you go through them.

Like a service entrance.

Av pushes through them and blinks at the change in lighting. This room is vast, there's drapery on the walls, lights that rove around the room, circular tables all set with too many forks and knives that ripple out from smaller plates stacked on larger plates, it's a-

"Fancy dinner," Ariel says and wrinkles her nose up slightly, "Boring."

Avriel pauses, gaze stuck on the girl standing between the tables a few metres away. His breathe catches in his throat at the sight of her. She's wearing her opening ceremony clothes, as if ready for a gala.

"You should take knives," she says, and points at the serrated ones in the line meant for cutting meat, "Just in case."

After a long moment, he nods. Part of him thought that he'd forgotten the sound of her voice but no. It's still clear and bright as ever and it seems strange that grief can still be this heavy and unforgiving after all these years.

"Ari-"

"There isn't time," she says with a light laugh, "There never was."

A tear trickles down his cheek and Avriel wipes it away quickly, focusing on scooping up knives to tuck into the pockets of his sweats. She's right though, he needs to find Eden. He has no idea how long he was asleep for, if it's even already too late, but he has to find him.

No matter what, he has to.

He pushes his way out of the room at the other end and finds himself in an entrance hall. There's a desk at one end, people sitting in various spots around, luggage beside them. A man in a red uniform stands near the door at the far end of the room and above them all, the ceiling cascades into an intricate dome design.

Avriel backs up against the wall, sidling away from the sudden noise, the people and sound but it drills into him. Sound cuts at him, he pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes until he sees strings of light, body shuddering. It's overwhelming to the point of madness. Maybe he's already reached it.

Then there's rattling at his feet and Scout is tugging on the leg of his pants, pulling at him to make him follow. Someone looks up from the desk, their brow furrows in confusion, and they head turns to alert a coworker. Avriel pushes away from the wall, slipping around the corner that Scout leads him around but it's too late.

They've seen him.

A bank of elevators appears at his shoulder and Avriel falls against the doors, frantically pushing the call button. He can hear machinery working behind the closed panels but not fast enough. There's movement from around the corner, boots falling against tile, they're going to get him and take him too.

Avriel reaches into his pocket and he finds the handle of a steak knife. His back is against the double doors now, as the first peacekeeper rounds the corner, the knife is already leaving his hand. It flies through the space between them, as certain and as deadly as seven years ago and the doors behind Avriel are opening, he's falling backwards into the elevator.

The knife finds a home in the peacekeeper's thigh, Avriel watches them buckle forward even as his hand is hitting the 'close door' button on the wall beside his head. His finger hits floor one, eyes locked on blood pooling on white fabric until the door closes with a heavy sound.

As soon as it's moving, he hits the button for floor nine and then lays back on the floor of the elevator, breathing too shallow, too quick. The world spins, the movement of the elevator uncomfortable in its familiarity. His stomach stays behind on the floor below. There's a ding and Avriel sits up quickly as the door opens.

Floor one.

A door bangs open a few feet away, white uniforms spill out and Avriel grabs another knife from his pocket as his hand mashes the 'close door' button again. A keeper reaches in just as the door is closing and Avriel flips the knife in his grip to swing it down straight into a gap in plastic plating on the glove.

A finger lands on the floor of the elevator, the hand is withdrawn as the elevator begins to move off to floor Nine again.

Avriel sits there in silence, bloody knife still held tight in his hand as he stares at the finger, still gloved, white stained dark red with blood. The small square room fills with the scent of it, of flesh cut into, of iron and metal, he can taste it on his tongue. Cherry pie burning in the oven, curtains flapping in the wind and the door to his parent's room, opening in front of hi-

Scout eats the finger.

Avriel blinks, knife falling to his side as the Kodama makes a happy whistling sound, like wind through tall grass, and brightens.

The elevator dings and Avriel gazes out into the hall.

No one.

He ventures out carefully, body twisting slowly as trees form in the spaces between room doors, their trunks thick with bark. He can smell campfire, he doubts he'll ever forget the smell of it. The doors slowly fade out of sight as darkness seeps in between the trees and Avriel's mouth trembles. He trains his gaze on the carpeted floor, brown with light flecks, no, dirt.

Dirt path.

"Already did this," he mutters softly to himself.

Scout's light is bright again, leading him through the darkness.

The Kodama rattles again and stops to jump up and down in front of the only door still left. It stands there, dark green wood with a brass number plate on it. Nine.

Ninth room on the ninth floor, this must be where they're keeping Eden.

The smell of campfire is stronger now, he can feel it under his fingernails, the ash. Av stands there for a long moment, body fading in and out of focus, there's a weakness to him that he didn't notice earlier. He feels a little transparent, too heavy all at once. His head, it's so heavy, it dips. He wants to sleep again.

But isn't he already?

"What are you waiting for?"

Three pairs of hands push against his back and Avriel stumbles forwards indelicately, hand twisting the knob at waist level. The door swings open and all at once, Avriel is there again in the small clearing, as if he never left it at all.

Eden.

Eden looking whole, still in the same clothes he was wearing when they went to sleep together, when Eden's body was against his and he could feel his heartbeat bouncing off of his own through their closeness.

A soft sound of relief slips out of his mouth, "found you," he whispers. Avriel finally drops the knife.

But the campfire smell, it's still there. Eden is sitting where Areto is supposed to be, it's that dream again, the one where it's him waiting for him in the dark instead of Areto. Here they both are and there's a fire burning, eating, clawing at the air hungrily.

Avriel is going to have to kill him, that's how it always goes.

"No," he mumbles. His foot gives out finally and he falls to one knee. His head follows, bowing, crumbling like stone. One knife slips from his pocket, then another, but he only remembers using two. All of them have blood on them and when he looks down, there's blood on his hands, on his pants, everywhere.

What has he done now?

The last of his strength dissolves.

"Please," he near whimpers, "Please, I can't."

His hands curl into fists, digging into the ground- the carpet beneath him.

"Not again."