How Forgiveness Budded [Tom]

[Deleted]

{I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded;}
{not with the fanfare of epiphany,}
{but with pain gathering its things, packing up}
{and slipping away unannounced}
{in the middle of the night.}

[/color]

Let me see if I can explain it to you,[/color] he said at the edge of the bar. We were in a dingy little dive a few blocks from my new apartment. A tiny neon display lit us up like a firework across the sky. It sprinkled light every few moments as a reminder that this tank was indeed still open. Love with her has never felt like one single moment. We’re not as young as we used to be. He pat his stomach for good measure.We’re a little thicker. I might even be a little bit shorter, too.[/color] He took another sip of his beer and smiled. But when I look at her, it’s like looking back into the past.[/color] I remember sitting and turning it over in my head then, and watching the foaming head of my beer bubble. He let out a wistful sigh and scratched at his beard. It’s waking up in the morning and seeing how the hair curls down over her brows. I think about the very first morning we woke up together, and she was resting that head of hers on my chest.[/color]

My father was never a born romantic, or a wizard with words. But this memory reminds me of a truth we miss in youth. In that all-consuming push to find love, to seek love, to be loved—we forget what it is to love.[/color] I raised my eyebrows at the notion, just beginning to understand his boiling passion. It’s nice to look at these girls that pass in the street but… with her, it’s… it’s like they’re the little cupcakes the bakers put out to tease, and she’s… the rosemary and thyme bread, dusted in flour. I get so much from her and she from me, I can’t see how anyone else could have ever been by my side.[/color] There was a twinkle in his eye as he sat back in his chair. When I look at her, it’s like looking back across all those years, and seeing everything she’s ever brought to me. No one could ever compare.[/color]

Love is—I blink, standing with my hands folded behind my back as I stand in front of my desk. Love is, how to finish the statement? I’ve only ever suffered from the feelings of lust, and even then, not much more than a few months spent pining over the same person. I used to imagine that love was only a pit of fire that burned every second of every day. A huge, heaping flame was reserved for the most special of loves. If I couldn’t feel that for someone, then I must not have been in love. After all, the greatest love stories seem to burn hot and sputter out far too quickly. If the games were any notion for the people of panem, love only took a moment, and was a dangerous, fickle thing. Careful not to stand too close to the flame, or run the risk of getting burned.

And yet I think of my father when I think of love. Two that lived and died for one another, my parents were not singing songs and throwing roses at one another. They held hands in the street. Mom baked apples for my father as his favorite dessert. My father always managed to find purple orchids because they were her favorite.[/color] And when she had trouble seeing, my father would tell her all the wonderful things she might have missed on their walks together. I’m lucky to know what love looks like. It’s not a burst of passion and a tumble of clothes. It’s waking up in the morning and feeling someone else there who knows that yes, chocolate chip pancakes are your favorite.[/color] And with warm breath against your neck, you know that you’re a better person because you’ve shared one another.

Tonight is my first one-on-one session in some time. I’ve lit a candle on the coffee table to clear away the dank smell of the office. A few unopened hard caramel candies line the edges. Homey enough to invite conversation, and warm enough to keep someone from running away. I’ve made a habit of turning the office into more of a home than my actual apartment. But then this isn’t a stretch considering the absurd amount of time I spend here. At the ready are my notepad and pen, but for now I sit against the front of my desk. I have no plans for this evening, no games, just an open and ready mind to talk about whatever might be ailing my new patient. I sit quietly brushing my hand against my beard. With the footsteps in the hallway, I cough out a come in.[/color] [/blockquote][/size][/justify]

[Tom]

Description/writing, Speaking , Thinking , Hears

It was one of those days. One of the days where the humming, the street noise, the breeze, the leaves, all reminded Riordan of her. The empty feeling without her always bite at his stomach, ripping and tearing and pulling at his stomach, chest, head, anywhere it could reach and Rio would just push the feeling off and keep trying to live a happy life. A busy and happy life, but that doesn't last for a very long time. Life gives a kick and Rio gets up, but the kicking keeps happening. Kick. Kick. Kick. Rio stands up only to be kicked down by life again. Kick. Kick. Kick. Rio gets up and continues with life, but the feeling of loss is always there. Always lurking in the shadows of where ever he goes, ready to tear his life for another spin and whirl.

Silence. That's all that ever resided at Tempus. The silence. The loss. The dark terror. Rio was working on getting rid of the silence. Adding new faces and hopefulness. Trying to rid Tempus of the dark past it has. The very dark past it had. The torch that hung from Rio's wall was important. It was the only thing Rio found that belonged to Theo. Theseus Rhodium, not many knew him, but Rio, Rio was one of the only that remembers him. His smile. His kindness. His shyness. His shortness. His happiness. Then he found the torch. The torch that had soothed all of Theo's pain. He knows that Theo burned himself because of the burns that were there when he was in the games. Rio had watched Theo die at Bloodbath. Theo, Tempus' best male actor, was dead. Kiera Dempsey had killed him and her boyfriend, Wednesdae Drummond had killed her, the special person.

Love. What a crazy thing love was. It drove people mad. Mad to find it and give it to someone. Someone special. Rio had it once, he never told the other that he did, but he did love her. Love was hard and it liked to happen at the worst of times. The ring in his pocket bouncing up and down, until Rio pulled it out and held it in his hand. Spinning and rolling it back and forth in his hand. The wings on it making sure to remind him that Navy had flown away and left a terrible mess of heartbroken people. Kalyan, the rest of Tempus, and Rio especially. She had left without even saying goodbye, but that was Rio's fault. He didn't go to her. He didn't save her from that fate. Rio would do anything just to see her smile or laugh again. He would do anything to see her smile while she was acting, being as beautiful as ever. He would give anything just to see her. Including, his life.

He sat down in his room in Tempus. He was writing. Writing some special notes to people. Three to be exact, One to Kal, One to Navy, and one to the rest of Tempus who had left. Notes was always the way Rio let everyone know he was out and about in town, so why not leave a note to the day he was leaving the world. The first was to Cod, Merc, Gwynn, Hestia, Keagan, and Xana.

Dear Old Tempus,

If one of you ever find this, it means I have left. Left from this cruel and terrible world. It's just too hard to live anymore. It hurts. It hurts too bad. I just can't d it anymore. I know you all are probably feeling it too. I am sorry, it's just too hard. Cod, stay strong for me, be a good friend and make sure that you grow old and find some girl that makes you crazy for her and that you two stay together. Merc, Theo loved you, I never told you. I never got to before you left. You just left in the middle of the night, but Theo loved you and probably won't stop in where ever he passed on to. Xana, I know you and me had our troubles, but I do still miss your words being thrown at me. I can't believe your gone too. Life is rough and I know you won't ever read this, but through all the arguing, you really were one of my good friends. Theo, There is so much I would say to you. I guess I will get to say to you in the end anyways because I will be where you and Navy are, singing our hearts out. See you soon.

Love,
Riordan Einfallen.

The tears ran down Rio's face already and he wasn't done. He was definitely not done. The next letter was Kalyan's letter.

Dear Kalyan Casovnik,

I don't know how to start this. When everyone left, you were there. I was there for you and you were there for me. If you find all these letters, get them to their owners. It means I am gone. Don't cry Kal, I will still be here with you. I'll just not be here in whole, just in spirit. I will truly miss you. Thanks for all the help with Tempus, it's just too hard to live anymore. Everything is numb or it hurts. I... I hope you understand. Just stay happy and live until you die from old age. Marry well and live long.

Love,
Riordan Einfallen

It was short and sweet and Rio was already crying from it all. The last letter was never written. Rio instead grabbed the two sheets of paper and burned them using Theo's torch. He burned them until the ashes were spread across the room. Rio just couldn't do it. He just couldn't. Rio could never take his life because as his father said to him, It's a childish and selfish way to die.

The next day, Rio had went to Navy and Theo's graves, which now held a new person that was close to both of them, Xana. Rio smiled at Xana's grave and placed a flower from the bouquet of flowers he held to her resting area. The walk to Theo's was short and Rio placed a flower there to and ran his hand across the stone. The last of the graves was harder for Rio to look at. Naveen Casovnik. Rio placed the whole bouquet down and blew a kiss as he marched back to Tempus.

Rio had the memories in his head floating around, the suicidal thoughts still there, but Rio kept pushing them away. He had signed up for therapy after yesterday's incident. It was now night time and Rio's feet effortlessly moved across the pavement. The pavement that went into town. The glowing lights leading the way to the office that Rio would be visiting that night.

Rio had reached the office and inhaled a breath, a breath that held many meanings. He pushed through the door and made his way down the hall to a man who had a name. A name Rio most likely won't ever forget. Dr. Allard. The man that was supposed to fix Rio.

He marched inside silently. It was quiet and the room was glowing from a lit candle. The aroma around Rio making him frown. Navy used to light candles sometimes. Dr. Allard sat across from the chair in front of a desk with a notepad and pencil in his hand as he leaned against the desk. Rio silently moved toward the man and shook his hand gently because that's how Rio was, formal.

Rio sat down in the chair in front of the man who was going to help Rio with his problems. This man was going to be either the safety net that catches Rio or the push that Rio will get to push him overboard. One way or another, Therapy was going to be hard, harder than Rio thinks it will be. Riordan Einfallen finally admits that he has a problem and needed help with it. Rio spoke softly to the man, "Dr. Allard, right? Well it's nice to meet you finally." With that, Rio sank into his chair and relaxed as he listened to the man talk. Rio was getting help for himself and his friends.



(So sorry this is super long Zori. Also the letters part is just what Drove Rio to finally get help. So that's kind of like a memory...)

[Deleted]

{I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded;}
{not with the fanfare of epiphany,}
{but with pain gathering its things, packing up}
{and slipping away unannounced}
{in the middle of the night.}

[/color]


One of the greatest inventions of human nature is our ability to mask. We’re not quite as good as the chameleon, but trained right and you could have anyone fooled. Half the battle is making your projection believable. It’s the little lines of a smile that turn up at the cheeks, and the measure of the voice that can cloud the sadness. Thick like wax dripping off a candle, you can cover weariness in the day to day. It works, too. People see only what they want, and often we’re sharing much of the same hurt that to burden oneself with more is altogether too much. I don’t blame the mothers and fathers of the district. They too often have fingers pointed—who could call someone evil that isn’t loved themselves? I think of that love, a rare and distant creature. I think how I’m lucky enough to call it by name and know how it feels, rather than be left wondering and commiserating.

I take Rio’s hand with a grin. In the candle light his face strikes me as young—too young.[/color] I have to remind myself that with every year there’s a bigger distance between me and the next generation. More than the inches that come and go with my waistline is that twist in my stomach when I think about people like Rio, kids broken and pained because of the hand the world’s dealt. It’s not enough that I try to step in and get them back on their feet. It’s the first step, but it can’t be the last. I push my glasses back onto the bridge of my nose. Dr. Allard, right? Well it's nice to meet you finally.[/color] I pull back, and make sure to motion to the treats that I’ve laid out on the table. We’re both unsure of one another. I break through the awkwardness—a skill I’ve been building my entire life, since the absolute embarrassments of my youth—and clear my throat.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Rio.” I push forward and place my hands on my knees. “I’m glad you’re here.” I give another moment, letting the comment stand in the air. I mean every word of it, whether or not it strikes him as a pleasantry. “I want you to know that tonight is about the two of us talking and getting to know one another. If there’s anything you feel like you can’t say, that’s fine. You just tell me you’d prefer not to answer and we can talk about something else. Anything you want, really.” I wave my hand in the air as though I were swatting a fly. “I’m not the best at conversation but I guarantee I’ll at least give you something to make fun of… now…” I shift in my seat. I stare at Rio for another minute. How much can I push the boat out?[/color]

“I grew up not a few blocks from here, you know? I think it was… oh, maybe…” I scratch the back of my head. I think back, counting ten, then twenty years. The streets were a little less gray and the sun a little brighter. “When I was sixteen when I figured out I wanted to do something like this. Being a psychiatrist, I mean. I mostly studied sciences in school—which is how I wound up in this lab. Of course, that wasn’t really enough for me. Too small doing, looking at little rats all day.” I chuckle. “Of course that’s why I decided to open up this little clinic. To help people. Which is why I promise that anything you say in here, is going to stay in here.” I raise my eyebrows and lean forward, letting my glasses drop down the bridge of my nose. I push them back up and bring my hands to my knees.

“I want you to start by telling me… how was today? Just… how you felt, and what you did. Then you can work back through the week… and you can tell me why it is you feel good, or bad, or however it is you’re feeling.” I look from the window and back to Rio. “And I might jump in here or there, but I just want you to tell me what’s on your mind. If you have something you want to say about someone, you want to go on a tangent and really tear into someone, that’s fine. I’m only going to stop you if I need to get some context. Okay?” I straighten up. The start was always slow but easing into it was better than ripping the bandage off whole. The wounds that these kids had were deeper and opened easily. “But try. That’s probably one of my only rules here. You have to try, even if you’re not feeling up to it.”[/blockquote][/size][/justify]