[what's written]//in braille// {WT}

[Rosetta]

Lethe Turner

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One would think that after spending a considerable amount of time in the Capitol over the past two years, Lethe Turner would feel comfortable there. Like a second home, right? But, no, if anything, Lethe felt more anxious. These bed sheets, so stiff from bleach, weren't her's. They lacked the freshness and lilac scent that only can be produced by a mother's hands washing in a tin tub. The clothes were flashy and colorful, not suited for things like chasing after young children and riding horses. The food was rich, a single serving enough to fill the belly for the rest of the day, unlike the filling, but still-leaves-room-for-more servings back home. And then there were the people. The people were the worst. They didn't quite speak Lethe's language, a soft one that spoke politely of light things: her family, Camalia, Eden, but rather of loud, glittery things: clothes, make-up. And themselves.

Themselves. Themselves. Themselves. That's all they ever seemed to talk about, their favorite words being "I", "my," and "me." Lethe knew she was in for it the second a Capitolite approached her. She was about to hear all about their lives. And she resented it. She resented every inch of this place.

And most of all, she resented how lonely she was. While the other Victors managed to find comfort and friendship in each other, she was alone. This wasn't anything new to Lethe. Years spent as an outcast in school, the girl who couldn't tell you your own name even if you've been lab partners since your first year of schooling, had taught Lethe the cruel lesson of loneliness. It had taught her how to crush down that disappointment and longing for interaction, push it hard down into her throat, a lump there. She was learned in the art of the churning stomach, the hot cheeks and the watery eyes. She knew how it felt. She knew that no matter how tightly she pulled herself into a ball, she couldn't disappear. No, instead she was forced to endure the stares, the whispers, the laughs, the sighs of pity. But, at least, there she had her family and the horses. A family to hug her and promise her that it would be alright, that they were there. Never that tomorrow would be better, of course. They knew well that tomorrow would only unlock new horrors for Lethe. And the fact that they didn't mention that was enough.

And then there were the horses. Each one faster than the last, larger than the last, more gorgeous than the last. Each one different. Each one unique. But, all equally loved by her. Just the feeling of riding bare-backed on a horse, the wind in her hair, making her eyes water, filling her lungs, the world becoming a huge blur around her was enough to turn a bad day into a good one, just enough to push that loneliness out of her body and leave it behind.

Here, Lethe could not do that. Here, she was alone. No family and no horses. While Lethe's talent to the Capitol, a talent that each Victor was required to have, was horseback riding, that outlet was taken away from her here unless she was to present it. Here, it was considered uncivilized and they just couldn't have an uncivilized Victor.

Had she already shamed herself enough by having an illegitimate child?

The very child was crying her eyes out as Lethe rocked her in her dark room. The rocking chair creaked as she rocked, although Lethe had lost the weight she'd carried after having Eden. Due to the little food and sleep she'd acquired in the months after Eden's birth, the weight had dropped swiftly, until she found herself back in the thin, bony body she'd originally had, though with a bit more excessive skin. Her mother had been horrified at her daughter's weight loss, but Lethe wouldn't choke down any of the food her mother thrust at her. In the months after Eden's birth, something seemed to prevent her from getting up in the morning and eating. From caressing Eden's cheek. From even dressing the child.

That horrible cloud had followed her back until she got to the Capitol, where it evaporated when she found herself in Eric's eyes again...

Eric! One could say Lethe was not truly alone. Look at her, with a child, a lizard and Eric. And yet, she still knew she was alone.

"Go back to sleep, Eden," she whispered to the child as Camalia, perched on Lethe's wrist, licked Eden's tiny hand (the only place Lethe would let Camalia lick) soothingly. "I'll tell you a story." Lethe had been doing this for days. Telling Eden stories she could recall from her mother's lips. Stories that she told herself and then Camalia in that awful Arena. It was her way of clinging to her family, to her mother's words. She liked to think it kept sane, but she wasn't entirely sure that the girl who feared mirrors and spoke to a lizard was sane. Nevertheless, Lethe spoke softly in a soft, light voice of fairies, of princes, of princesses, or heroes and so much more. Her voice trembled when the heroes did, turned grave when the king fell ill and grew strong and powerful when the dragon was felled by a swordfs fatal blow. And slowly, Eden's eyes closed, lulled by her mother's words.

It was true, Lethe had Eden and Camalia, but she longed for an actual conversation, not a one way story in some dark room. She had to be careful about going to Eric. If someone found out where she was going, she could pull Eric into something he didn't want to be in. The press didn't know who Eden's father was, although there was much speculation. Lethe kept quiet on that fact. And so, going to see him as out of the question right now. No, she had to be careful about seeing him, strategic.

Heaving a great sigh, Lethe got up from the rocking chair, still holding the sleeping infant tightly. Even if she couldn't see Eric, she had to get out of this suffocating, dark room. But, she couldn't go out in public and endure those stares, whispers, questions and "me" talk. For a moment, Lethe froze, eyes darting about the dark room as if it knew the answer. Almost instantly, the slowly turning mobile above Eden's cradle caught her eye. Amid little suns and moons, critters dangled there and among them, horses. Slowly and carefully, Lethe approached it and with the hand not holding Eden's delicate head, reached up and fingered the little, soft horse. It was brown with a little bit of white on its forehead, that reminded Lethe heavily of her old horse, Susie. The thought of the swift, loyal horse sent an ache deep down into Lethe's side. After the oil refineries had gone up, the horses hadn't lasted long. Susie had been one of the last to go, her body succumbing to sickness that medicine no longer existed for as the doctors and the Capitol refused to acknowledge to presence of livestock in District Five. Of course, when she returned as Victor, she was able to purchase all the horses she wanted, but none of them were like Susie.

But, Lethe knew her eyes falling upon the mobile served a different purpose than to draw up painful memories. And that was to spark an idea in her mind. The Opening Ceremony horses. She knew that they were kept in stables attached to the Training Center. She'd even glimpsed a large indoor track, designed to mimic an outdoor one near the stables that time she had spent her day wandering about the Training Center. That's where she wanted to go. She didn't care if it was considered uncivilized.

She was already a shameful girl. A mother with an illegitimate child. A monster who feared mirrors. A Victor who should be with the other mentors, keeping an eye on the tributes of District Five. Or tribute, that is. But, no, Lethe was a coward. Unable to bear watching the second tribute of District Five, the remaining one, Inkling, be killed, she'd withdrawn. It wasn't that she didn't care for Ink or Blythe. In fact, she'd give everything to see them safely home, but now, realistically, she just had to hope Ink could pull through. However, that hope still didn't have her eyes on the television. She couldn't handle seeing more blood flow, more cries of pain, horror. More life lost. She just couldn't. Coward.

The coward, feeling shame heavy in her cheeks, hearing the death cries in her ears, obviously occurring at this very moment in the Games, what she should be paying attention to, marched from the room. Carefully, she placed Eden, still sleeping, in her carrier and picked it up. She was going to ride those horses. She didn't care who tried to stop her. She wanted to ride the horses.

With a determination that brought red heat to her face, the intentions of it being dishonorable, Lethe moved out into the hallway and towards the elevator. In her carrier, Eden looked content as ever, dressed in a green onesie with a matching headband over her fuzz of blonde locks. As she walked, Lethe smiled, trying to force that shame away. Eden would like this. She would know about her mother's secret love for horses. Hopefully, she'd develop the same love. From her usual spot on Lethe's shoulder, Camalia licked her neck.

She punched the button for the elevator and waited for it to slide down towards her. Expecting to be the only Victor not taking money from sponsors or glued to the television, Lethe was surprised to find herself face-to-face with Aranica Petros. Lethe was friendly with Ara, like she was with the other Victors, but didn't know her too well. Just like with the other Victors...To mask her surprise, Lethe threw her a quick smile, "Hi, Ara!"

Lethe pressed the ground floor button and they zoomed downward. On contrary to the effect the elevator usually had on Eden, the child woke up and began to fuss. "It's okay, baby," Lethe cooed in a soft, soothing voice, "we're going to go see the horsies." Glancing up at Ara, Lethe explained, "I'm going to go and try and see if I can get into the stables where they keep the horses. You know, for the Opening Ceremony." And then Lethe added the words she hadnft anticipated. "You're welcome to come too."

The words had popped out before she could stop them. Loneliness had overcome her restraint and now here she was, inviting a girl she barely knew to join her in sneaking into an area that they probably didn't want a lot of people around, when they both should be paying attention to the tributes of their Districts. The heat in her face was hot as ever now and she hoped Ara would just take this as her being shy as she struggled to form a smile. She hoped Ara didn't think she was weird. She hoped Ara didn't find her a disgrace to all the Victors, having a baby and all and sneaking down to the stables at times like these. And above all, she hoped and prayed, from the bottom of her heart, that if Ara accepted she wouldn't mind a cowardly monster with an illegitimate child and a lizard that licked.[/color][/blockquote][/size]

[WT]

Life had a funny way of catching up with people who tried to evade it. Tributes ran, but Gamemakers and rivals stalked their every step. People died, but the world's mad cycles spun on. Anyone could try to hide, but something—friends, food, fear—would eventually drag them all out again. One by one, everyone had to learn the hard way: life allowed dropouts, but not slackers.

Aranica was learning that now. Both her tributes were dead (and she had actually thought Smokey had a chance this year—why did she always, always let herself think there was a chance) and all she wanted was to curl up in her room and sleep for the next week, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. Her heart had gone out to the sibling tributes from District Eight, both of whom were still alive. Periodic check-ins with the Eight team did nothing good for her mental health, for she could do no more for the two than she had been able to do for her own charges, but she couldn't ignore them. Memories of her own brother and sister made her ache for the pair, and all the more so because they could not help each other or even really speak to each other. Family (of one sort or another) was all most people could really count on in the end, and these two were being denied even that.

Meanwhile, she had herself to look after. Aranica normally couldn't choke down meals during the Games and never could after the loss of Twelve's tributes, but as her doctor had impressed upon her quite forcibly, she didn't have a choice right now. Until she made a decision about whether the mass of cells multiplying inside of her was going to become a breathing, crying baby, she needed to act like she had chosen to keep it. Obligation managed what promises to the dead and nagging from the living never had: Aranica was eating. Usually bland food (insofar as such a thing was possible in the Capitol), and not all of it stayed down, but she ate.

Aranica thought about this as she stepped out of her room—another sharp contrast to her usual post-loss behavior, which included hiding away in her room unless forcibly dragged at the end of Bellezze's arm—and gently shut the door. She always thought, of course; her mind was constantly whirring, fragments of sentences and feelings flashing by before she had time to fully identify half of them. But now specific things were puncturing the usual mass of grief and love and everyday life, keeping the usual cloud of mourning from shutting her down. Those District Eight tributes. Thoughts of home. Mace. Options.

It was making her restless. Part of why she always cratered was her lack of responsibilities in the Capitol. With neither work to distract her nor anyone to expect her, pushing away her thoughts had become her only coping method. Now, with enough going on to keep her mind running but no action to take, she was stuck with those thoughts. Searching for distractions had started taking up more and more of her time. That was where she was headed now, entering an elevator aimlessly and hitting a random button in the hopes that it would take her to a floor with an avox who needed help cleaning floors or something equally mindless but time-consuming.

Instead, when the doors opened it was to the face of another victor.

"Oh!" Not expecting anyone to be waiting outside, Aranica had been standing right by the door. She scrambled back, making room for Lethe and the baby she carried. A small smile flickered over her lips at the greeting, and at the sight of tiny Eden. She was too upset to be truly happy about anything, but it was at the very least nice to see the other girl. "Hey, Lethe."

No sooner had the echoes of Ara's greeting died than Eden stirred and sobbed. Ara started, taking a half-step to the side as an apology rose to her lips. What was wrong? Was her timing bad, or had Eden simply gone too long without her mother's touch? Could there, perhaps, be some unknown quality to Aranica's voice that made babies hate her—something that made this speechless daughter want to warn the world, Be careful, this rock-person needs never to be a mother?

Apology and questions alike failed to resolve. Lethe rushed attention to her child, her soothing voice simultaneously killing the unborn words in the child's cries and the victor's thoughts. Aranica sighed so softly she barely felt her own chest move, watching the blonde pair and wondering about the past and the future and how tightly they wrapped around one another in her heart.

Before she could get too lost in her thoughts, Lethe continued speaking, this time directly to Ara. Tilting her head, Ara nodded along with the explanation. "Sounds good." She almost stopped there, but felt the need to point out, "They can hardly keep you away." While it was not entirely true that victors got whatever they wanted, they did have a lot of weight to throw around. Whatever the reporters said about Lethe's horses, and Ara had heard a few pretty nasty remarks, all it would take was one starstruck worker with the keys, and the victor was in. Unless someone found a way to make stables look traitorous, Aranica expected Lethe would have no problem.

What she did not expect was to be invited along. Aranica blinked a couple times in surprise, then slowly said, "I... I would like that a lot." Her smile shifting into something far more hesitant than it had been, but far warmer. Lethe had never exactly avoided her, but the two were hardly close, either. Being welcomed into her personal time was touching.

The expression faded a little as something else occurred to her. "I've never ridden a horse, though," she added, biting at the corner of one lip. Involuntarily her hand fluttered toward her stomach but, constrained by the straps of her messenger bag, never quite made it. Was horseback riding particularly dangerous? Obviously not usually, if Lethe was bringing Eden along, but pregnant women were supposed to avoid all sorts of things. "I don't—I don't know if I can."

[Rosetta]

Lethe Turner

[/center]

Lethe's father used to tell her that when she could crawl, he brought her to the stables, so he could tend to the horses as he watched her. Upon turning his back for a moment to shovel some manure out of a stall, he heard a shriek behind him. In horror, fearing a horse might've attacked his daughter, he spun around frantically, only to find a peculiar site. His daughter was, in fact, shrieking, but not in terror, but rather in joy. One of the horses, a rather new filly, just born the day before and not yet comfortable on her legs, was nuzzling Lethe, who laughed as she pulled the horse's nose closer to her. Having only seen newborn horses only that comfortable with their mother's, Lethe's father watched in awe as the two snuggled together, content with the other's presence. That horse was named Susie and she and Lethe became fast friends, growing up together. When, a few days later, Susie struggled up on her spindly, awkward legs, Lethe, too, pulled herself up on chubby, toddler legs, almost in encouragement. While, each and every day, Lethe was unresponsive to her parents and siblings, even puzzled when she looked upon them in the morning, she always knew which horse was Susie and was soon running towards her, crying out in delight.

"You can recognize animals," her mother would ask her, forehead creased in confusion, "but not people?" However, though bemused, her family accepted this as a good thing. For if Lethe couldn't find comfort in the faces of her family, at least she found it in animals. "You have a connection to animals," she would be informed by her mother, who had an approving smiles. "Animals have spirits too, you know."

It was those words, "animals have spirits too," and the story of when she was a child, that had Lethe going to the stables with Eden. Anything that had a spirit could understand. The animals, the horses, could understand the trials that plagued Lethe and since she always found great comfort in them, she knew going to see them now would lift away the burden of these Games for a little while at least. And this was for Eden too. She wanted Eden to have the same connection as her. She wanted Eden to feel that in an animal, she had a home, just as Lethe knew she did. Especially if Eden had to same disorder of Lethe...

Shivering in fear, unable to imagine that, Lethe distracted her mind by focusing on Ara's words. Words of worry her mother would've called them. Sentences that start with "I don't think," or "Are you sure?" Sentences like that. Sentences that carried worry in their insides. And at them, Lethe smiled warmly and almost knowingly, having asked more than enough of those questions.

"Don't worry," she assured Ara. "Horse-back riding isn't that hard! I can teach you." She said the last words with pride she didn't know she had. Years of riding had rendered Lethe an expert and with the knowledge that she wasn't good at much, particularly making good decisions, as Eden proved (though she loved Eden), Lethe knew she was allowed some pride with what she
was good at.

With those words holding her head up, Lethe departed the open elevator, hoping Ara would follow her, trusting her enough. Or maybe she just wanted a friend. Friend, the most peculiar of relationships. It lacked the strong, iron bonds that held together mother and daughter, father and son, sister and brother, but it wound together tighter than that of acquaintances. It was less fragile than that of lovers, whom could break apart as easily as glass. Did Lethe want to feel that tight thread, wound around her finger and connected to Ara's? Did she want to know how it felt to have an actual friend who wasn't going to leave? Diving into unfamiliar waters was just what Lethe tended to shy away from. Well, used to. Looking back on everything that she faced in the past few years, all the unfamiliar waves she'd been forced to surf, making a friend was hardly something to be worried about. Especially if there was a higher chance that she'd see Ara again and the girl wouldn't just fade into the dark night as others had done before her.

The stable doors loomed up ahead and to Lethe's surprise, only an Avox stood guard at the doors, looking attentive, but still rather bored. Lethe didn't care much for the Avoxes. She was merely thankful for their help with Eden, but that was all. No pity. If you jump into the river, you follow its current, no matter how strong or rough it is. If you break the law, you pay the price. If you engage in sexual activity in a bathtub with a boy you hardly know, you must take care of the baby you produce. Every action has a reaction.

"We'd like to get into the stables," Lethe told the older woman, who instantly looked uncomfortable, eyes darting about, but there was no one around. "For Eden," Lethe explained, hefting the child up for the woman to get a look. "It calms her. Please," she added, using the word the woman probably seldom heard. And come to think of it, seldom did Lethe. Lethe, darling, you really must find someone! You're a young woman now.Lethe, go into this Arena here and kill all these kids and maybe you'll go home. Lethe, raise this child, okay? You'll only be seeing the father during a certain over the year. No please. Not ever. It was just do. Do this, Lethe. Do that.

For a moment, the Avox seemed to hesitate, eyes still willing another person to come and handle this, but finally, she bowed respectfully, turned and began to unlock the door. Soon, it was opening cleanly and smoothly and Lethe was smiling reassuringly at Ara as she stepped forward into the stable.

The smell was the first thing to hit her. And what a beautiful scent it was. The overwhelming strong, sharp scent of hay, manure, wet hair, and oats crashed over her in a wave, stimulating her senses and making her heart flutter. All around her, the whinnying and nickering of horses met her ears and she could feel the warm air on her skin, warmer from the horses' breath. And her heart swelled in joy. The room was still extraordinarily different from the stables back home with a clean, smooth floor and nice stables that probably had hay piled up neatly inside of them, but it was a stable all the same. Horses poked their heads out of their stalls and whinnied at Lethe, who, for once in all the time she'd spent at the Capitol, felt entirely at home. Eden, who'd previously been dozing, opened her eyes and stared around in awe, neither crying nor smiling at the scene around her, not quite sighing with content like her mother, but that was okay too.

"Look at all the horsies, Eden," Lethe cooed, feasting upon them all with her eyes, her wide smile threatened to split her face. One particular horse caught her eye. She was a beautiful chestnut thing, young, but lean, who was throwing her head back and nickering. "Oh, look, baby!" Lethe cried out to Eden, but really more to herself. She'd never seen such healthy horses, more accustomed to undernourished, sickly skeletal things. These horses were just- "Beautiful," Lethe whispered, so overcome with joy. Finally, she was home and she laughed, suddenly not caring if Ara found her crazy. Quite a few seemed to think Lethe was crazy, but it was really for the lizard on her shoulder, who was now licking Lethe's neck as she approached the chestnut horse.

"Here, Eden," Lethe offered, taking her child's soft hand and placing it upon the horse's equally soft hide. The horse didn't flinch and neither did Eden, but upon touching the animal, her eyes brightened up and her mother opened, forming a spit bubble that Lethe giggled at. "Come on, Ara!" she called, more comfortable with speaking to the fellow Victor now surrounded by the animals that made her the most happy. "She's friendly. Come here and pet her."

For Lethe knew there was something special in touching an animal, especially if it was for the first time. The first time touching an animal you like and are friendly with, the bond is made. Skin on fur, skin on hair or skin on scales. It didn't matter. The first touch sealed the deal. It made your eyes widen, made your lips spread open in a smile and, most of all, it made your heart race as it hastened to distribute this new friendship through your body. Though she doubted it was Ara's first time touching a horse, Lethe knew that with new animals it was the same deal and even now, she could sense the warmth rushing through the infant, as the bond was made. And Lethe could feel it deep inside of, blossoming, as she reached out to pet the horse herself.

For electricity was in that touch, stimulating a bond be wound around the heart. And every being in this world, animal and human alike, longed for that bond.[/color][/blockquote][/size]