mountain in f minor / day four.

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

all of this is temporary
watch as i slip away.




felicity carrow,
district three

Felicity is fairly certain it's the look on his face that keeps her going. It's like the wind has been sucked out of the trees, as if the whole wood has gasped and is holding its breath. Something nasty wriggles in her mind, as if to chant one more right into her spine. The whole world shrinks down to Lionel when Hugo's corpse tumbles into the darkness. A part of her registers Axyl stumbling after him, Sage's blood dripping along the soot-laden snow as he disappears among the trees. There's part of her that's never been able to focus on a single thing at a time in her entire life; she's resented it so many times, but for once, she's desperately grateful. There is something gut-wrenchingly delicious about the way Lionel fights for her. She cannot deny it now. The truth of it settles into the pit of her stomach, achingly heavy, a lump of coal being pressed into a diamond. She swallows and lets herself stare as a strange wave of purple begins to wash over everything, glowing from unseen sources beyond their vision. All she can see is the light, and the way it dances in Lionel's eyes when he admits he isn't sorry. Sage dies so quickly. A breath, and she's gone. Felicity lets the weight of that settle between her shoulders, attaches the weight to that collar of iron it feels like the hags have latched around her throat. But Lionel does not let that smile slip completely, lets the light keep glinting in his eyes; somehow, that's enough. Standing amongst the charred ruins of the cabin, Felicity feels clear. That part of her that's always turning over a thought one too many times wonders about that, what it might say about her that she walks away from two bodies with the one who felled them and feels nothing but calm, blissfully safe even. Slowly, painfully, she pulled curiosity to the tip of her tongue: "do you, um, want to talk about it?" Felicity doesn't bother looking at him, or maybe she doesn't find the courage, she's unsure. Either way, she keeps her hands busy, looking for something to useful to put in her canvas bag.

don't wait for me
it's not a happy ending.


felicity scavenges charred cabin.
MCLI5A2ZCA1-7

1-7

[k!ah]

When the second body falls, blood sprays and I can feel it on my face, on my lips, in my mouth, as I pant slightly from the weight of my sword and my waning strength as blood continued to drip drip drip onto the blood soaked snow beneath my feet. I felt almost wild as I watched the light die from Sages eyes, and I struggle to meet Felicity's, scared of what I might see there. I had meant what I said as I stole the girls life source. I was not sorry, and I wouldn't apologise because they- both of them- had tried to kill her and I was not going to fake regret and disgust and shame at doing what needed to be done to save her. To save us.

So I don't look at her as I lean down to wipe my blade across the material of Sages shirt, cleaning away the blood that soaked it.

The world around us becomes quiet and I stare at the bodies whose lips had turned blue and frosted. I look into the lifeless eyes of Sage as she stared back at me with a silent scream and I hold her gaze waiting for anything but the rising panic that had begun to claw its way up my throat. The same panic that had seized me the moment I had been unable to read Felicity's face after the first body fell.

I try to force it away, refusing to allow it to surface because it was fucking stupid and all kinds of twisted.

I lick my lips nervously before I glance at Felicity. She stands beside me with her back tall and when I study her face I dont see the remnants of disgust, or dissapointment, or repulsion. I don't know exactly what it is that I see but its enough to tame the panicked beast that was clawing up my throat as a wave of relief washes over me.

We stand in silence for another moment before she speaks and instantly I feel my lips begin to tug up in that characteristic shit eating grin that I wore so easily. A small, dark and twisted laugh escapes my lips, "about killing those two?" My teeth sang my lower lip and I study her carefully as she refuses to meet my gaze. "Does it scare you that I killed them, Belcher?" I don't believe it did, because I was sure if it did that she wouldn't be here. "I'd do it again, you know. I don't regret it- and I am not sorry."

My gaze flicks over her face as I silently beg her to look at me. To catch my gaze so that I could really see what was going on inside her head. "I'm not exactly a good person. I might have been, you know, before all this. Though if I am being totally honest, I dont know if that is true." I pause, thinking for a moment about how much I wanted to tell her. This was the first time I had been candid with anyone in her- no, anyone ever- and I didnt know how much was too much.

"I'm good at wearing masks, good at being the person who I believe that people around me wanted me to be. Though I was never enough for my father- but thats besides the point at the moment." I struggle to find the right words, "I want to be real with you Felicity. I dont know why, and maybe its a stupid fucking idea cause if today was any insight into our next couple days, but I-" this was fucking stupid. Foolish and stupid and dumb but for some dumbass reason words continued to fall from my lips.

"I want you to see me."

I look away from her, one hand rubbing at the back of my neck self-consciously and I knew that my dumbass face would slowly be turning a shade of red that was so damned mortifying.

[kaitlin]

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

all of this is temporary
watch as i slip away.




felicity carrow,
district three

She likes listening to him talk. That notion is distracting enough for a while, too long even. Background programs run rampant in her mind, relishing the feeling of that darkness wrapping its arms around her shoulders. It remembers the way it swallowed Hugo whole, devoured Sage the moment Lionel took a step back. Inga, Izzy, Axyl, that purple shimmer flared and then there was a boy from Five and a girl from Six who was getting tired of pretending. His sword still glints red, despite the way he wiped it across Sage's clothes. Felicity swore he looked at her after like he expected her to run, but all she saw was someone giving back the piece that he could. Maybe he was just being cruel. A part of her might've liked that, too. She pulls out her toolkit and stomps through the cabins front door instead, sits down criss cross applesauce after a bit of maneuvering with her heavy boots. She fumbles with the toolbox for only a second before unwinding some of her makeshift wraps, too. Does it scare you? She blinks, thinks about every time someone has looked at her like she was insane, and diligently keeps at her task, loosening bolts before considering just cutting a vital wire. "No," is reflexive, quick, she doesn't event hink about the fight, the push bacl. It's like the hags stirred something up though, and all she sees are kids who called themselves friends, teachers who gave up on her, parents who tried to have faith but were never very good at it; even Abraham, Baines, Storm, soft spots and all, no one ever wanted her to see them. Specimen, too smart for her own good, she couldn't be trusted. Yet here Lionel is, throat bared, asking her if her can give up his mask. She bites the inside of her cheek, doesn't look at him; her worst flaw. She does not know how to be gentle; no one ever taught her how. I want to be real with you Felicity. Something in the pit of her stomach starts burning, that bit of ore that a hag welded into her in the mist. A bit of iron, like a hook or a claw, it softens and bleeds until it can forge something new inside her chest. I want you to see me. Her hand slips, and her attention splits. She has to look at him, though the sight of him backlit by the dim lanterns casting long shadows in the room does something to make her blood start to simmer. "I'd like you less if you were any good." The shock to her system is overwhelming then, and the pounding of that something being forged in her belly boils over the edge. For a second it feels like everything has caught on fire and she sucks down air, her whole body going rigid. Heat pulsed in her throat, under her skin, and she wished she could just claw it off before the tremor began to fade.

don't wait for me
it's not a happy ending.


felicity tries to break generator in cabin

dpaLl_zrhl1-5

+3 damage

1-5

[k!ah]

No.

I cant stop the smile thats softens my lips. A genuine smile that felt almost foreign, and somewhat out of place with the blood that coated my hands, that was plastered to my face and my boots. But the word no made all the other things feel like nothing but a distraction. She wasn't scared of me. The relief that washed over me was ridiculous because I already knew that she wasn't scared of me. Or maybe I had wanted to believe it that I hadn't allowed myself to think that there could possibly be an alternative. But there she was, sitting amongst the charred ruins fiddling with her tool box and she was not running.

I think if Caroline or Lidia had of been here that they would have run the moment things got messy. No, they would have run the moment my mask had slipped and I stopped pretending to be that charming, pretentious playboy that they had endlessly flirted and teased and enticed them into believing I was everything they wanted and needed. I used to be so good at playing playing the part that they needed at the time, and I knew that if they looked at me now they would not recognise the boy who stared back at them. I dont think they would have liked who they saw either.

I think Wren might. He'd probably say I finally pulled the stick out from so far up my ass that I could finally breathe. Though, I was also sure that he wouldn't care all that much if I died in this frozen shit hole, or came back home.

But did Lidia or Caroline or even Wren matter? Because I was pretty sure that even with the blood on my hands and the chilling bodies of tributes behind me... I liked who I saw. And as fucked up as it sounds, being here in this death trap I felt like I could breathe properly for the first time in my life. There was freedom in my death that I wasn't ready to let go of. So I would hold onto it with greedy desperate hands.

When I tell her I want her to see me her hands falter and for the first time since we have been alone she looks at me. "I'd like you less if you were any good." My smile grows so wide that the split in my lips re-opens and I taste blood on my tongue, but I barely register it because there was a warmth in her gaze that fought the iciness in the air.

"Careful Belcher, I don't know how much more inflation my ego will be able to handle before it bursts," a teasing note returns to my voice and I elbow her lightly as Mouse takes his place beside her to shield her from the worst of the weather. "What are you doing-"

A spark dances at her fingertips and suddenly her body is shuddering under the touch before her body goes rigid. "Fuck," I curse as I shift my position so that my body is angled towards hers. I grab her shoulders, shaking her lightly, forcing her to break contact with the generator at her feet. "Belcher? Belcher you okay?"

She doesn't answer straight away and my throat tightens.

"Shit, Felicity. Felicity say something," I demand as I give her another shake.

[kaitlin]

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

all of this is temporary
watch as i slip away.





felicity carrow,
district three

Felicity spends a long while thinking about Wren Jr. sleeping just beyond the zippered tent, no doubt curled up against Mouse's broad, feathered wings. She wonders what it'd have been like to grow up with a siblings, what it might have been like if she had not been quite so alone in the world. She thinks about the harsh cut of Lionel's voice when he said his brothers name, and the tenderness it requires to name one thing after another. What feels like hours later, she admits she named her familiar after family, too. "My Dad's name was Viktor." The words are thick, pulled from the pit of her stomach; they stifle the air in the tent, make it harder for her to breath. She has to focus on the even sounds of Lionel's breath in the dark to steady her own. It's been like that even since she found out, had to start talking about her Dad in the past tense rather than the present. It's like a little reminder every time. Oh, he's dead now. That's right. He's not coming back from that one. Something flips over in her chest, a dying fish flopping pathetically on the docks. She can feel scales flying, catching on her heart, on her lungs, on her throat—jagged spines that leave ugly, red lines across the soft inside of her flesh. She feels the heat of those wounds across her skin and wraps an arm around her middle as if to stifle the fire leeching across the plane of her. "Monkey Viktor reminds me of him a lot, actually." She's grateful for the small, clear plastic window cut into the side of the tent. For the first night, the storm clouds wash across the horizon haphazardly, uncommitted in their tirade against the forest. Every so often, the moon cuts through the bramble wood, bathing their tent in velvety white. She focuses on the fragment of it between the boughs as she lets her grief wash over her heart with a gentle current. "He has that same curiosity people warn you gets cats killed, you know?" A thin, reedy part of her soul bends, and then snaps in the breeze. She can almost feel his breath on her face every time he exhales. He is so, so very close. "I used to wish I had a sibling sometimes," the words tumble out as if they cannot be stopped, the weight of them carried along a heavy current she doesn't have control over. "A lot of the time, when I was really little. My Dad was prone to bouts of mad genius behind closed doors, and my Mom was really good at disappearing, so a siblings sounded like a great idea in theory." Her hands tug on the fabric of her flannel, latching onto them until she feels secure, safe, grounded. She bites the inside of her cheek for a second, wrestling with her truths. Never have they wanted so badly to be free of her. "I guess that starts to get a little less appealing when you're eight and you realize you'd probably be your little brothers Daddy and Mommy and big sister all wrapped up in one."

don't wait for me
it's not a happy ending.

[k!ah]

For a while it is silent, the only thing to be heard was our breathing- and Mouses snoring as he dozed off near the entrance of the tent. I find it hard not to notice just how small the tent is, how close Felicity lies to me. When I close my eyes I can feel her body heat coming off her in waves, pressing into my side comfortingly. The moment I had lied down beside her all my jokes and teasing words had died on my lips and for the longest moment neither of us said anything. In the silence and darkness I found myself wanting to slip my arm under her shoulders and pull her in tight, to steal her body heat to warm the aching chill that bite right down to my aching bones- well that is what I tell myself, as my hand clench and relax at my side.

But I instead force myself thinking about the lives I had taken today. It disturbed me somewhat how little I regretted my actions. I knew that I should care, that I should nurturing a broken part of my soul at the crimes I had just committed... Hell, I should be begging someone for forgiveness that I probably didn't deserve... But as I stared up at the tents roof I felt nothing... Nothing but relief that it wasn't Felicity's or my own canon that had blasted. And that was totally fucked up.

My mind was teetering of the edge of consciousness when Felicity finally breaks the silence. "My Dad's name was Viktor," her voice isn't much louder than a whisper, thick and raw, full of emotion. There was a tone in her voice that hooked onto my chilling heart, warming it ever so slightly, and I roll onto my side to study her quietly. Was. The grief that consumed the word told me enough to know that she hurt thinking about her father and for the briefest moment I found myself wondering what it might feel like to have my fathers love, approval even. And then I let it go because fuck him, the hateful bastard. I don't say anything, something about the expression on her face and how she wraps an almost trembling hand around herself, steals the words from the tip of my tongue.

"Monkey Viktor reminds me of him a lot, actually." It was the first time she had spoken to me about her life back home, and with each small detail she lets slip, I find myself wanting to know more. I had a feeling that Felicity was a mystery to most people in her life. Where I had masks, she had walls. They were built around her so high, and so solid, that it would be impossible to knock them down. People only learnt what she was willing to yield. And I wanted to desperately for her to continue giving me small pieces of herself, pieces that I greedily ate up, but still hungry for more.

Her fingers dig into her jacket, clenching tightly in the material and before I cant stop myself I am reaching out for her. My fingers, almost hesitantly, wrap around the hand that clutches tightly at her shirt. "I don't know if you're really missing out on much," I say as I think of Wren and his stupid cocky grin as he glares at me over mother shoulder. Fucking prick. "They really not all they're cracked up to be. Annoying as all hell and a constant pain in the ass."

For a moment I am silent as I study her face in the darkness. I was close enough that I was able to see the way the moonlight that filtered in and out of the darkness turned her eyes a luminous shade of golden brown. "You loved your father very much?" I ask quietly as my pointer finger traces her pinky. "H-How-" I cut myself off unsure if she was ready to give me that much of herself. "How did he die?"

[kaitlin]