The Desert's Shore [Anzie]

[Kire]

[googlefont="La Belle Aurore:400"]

  Siren Baitwell

       I wonder what I am made for, If I'm not meant to be with you

Leon looked a mess, and seeing that she couldn't help the tender feeling in her gut. She carefully took the bandage he held out, unrolling part of it and smiling slightly at how awkward her companion looked holding plant goop against his skin. The way he pressed on it one would have thought he was holding his guts in, but she could see that the wounds were nearly that bad. She teased his hand away from his arm and fixed the bit of bandage he had tried to stick on before adding another layer. "Tell me if this is too tight." Her voice wasn't very loud due to the fact that her mouth was close to his ear, and she continued smiling as she tied off the bandage.

Giving it a light pat she went to work on his stomach. She pulled a needle and thread from his pack and set to stitching his cut up. "This'll pinch a bit." Once again she had to coax him to let go of the pulpy mush on his wound so she could fix it up. Mercilessly, lest he squirmed if she paused, she sewed the cut shut. It wasn't too deep, but there was no way she could risk it getting infected. With that done, all there was left to do was wrap up the wound.

Standing up and wrapping his stomach was somewhat awkward, and she nearly dropped the bandages twice. To try and solve the problem she crouched in front of him, passing the bandage from hand to hand as she wrapped up his middle. She blushed when her eyes strayed from her task, something they did often, and as soon as she was done she quickly stood up. Awkwardly, she kept her head turned from him - she couldn't meet his eyes at the moment.

A shadow caught her eye and she immediately looked for its source. Smiling, she recognized a sponsorship parachute. Tracking it, she nearly caught the container but it slipped through her fingers. Prying it open she found a syringe, it was labeled "General Antivenom" and she looked at in confusion for a moment before it clicked that the mutts must have been poisonous. How odd that she hadn't felt much effect. Leon, on the other hand, must have gotten hit with a bigger dose than her. Still, if this was sent to her that must mean she was poisoned as well.

She searched the container for a note, something she had become accustomed to with every sponsorship item. Except this time she found none, and the feeling of disappointment flooded her. So this hadn't been from him, but at least she had it. She turned to Leon and waved the syringe at him. "They'll get you one too, I'm sure." There was no way they could let him suffer through the poison, it would be cruel. Besides, there wasn't enough blood. Surely the capitolites will save him, even if it was only so they could see a more gruesome death.

She gritted her teeth and jabbed the needle into the fist vein she could see, wincing at the prick. Depressing the plunger, she sent the antivenom into her blood and hopefully to spread through her and get rid of the poison. Feeling a little woozy, she sat down. Looking up at Leon she once again patted the ground beside her. "Come and sit. You need to rest."

[анзие (Anz)]

[googlefont="La Belle Aurore:400"]

  Leon Krigel

       it seemed we could float forever

Leon tilts his head and watches Siren work in silence, eyes sliding half-shut as the plant's essence works its magic on his wounds. Siren rolls the bandage around his arm with a murmured, "Tell me if this is too tight." His lips turn up at the corners but he nods anyway, watching her movements with a gaze more intent than he ever thought it might be. Siren is smiling as well, her head bent over his arm; when she's done she pats the bandage gently, then frowns at his midsection.

Pulling a face when she picks up a needle and thread, Leon braces himself. "This will pinch a bit."

"Pinch," he echoes blandly, but his face is amused when she drags the hand holding the mushy handful of leaves against his stomach away. Holding as still as he can, Leon tries to focus on the merciless expression Siren wears as she sews him up instead of the way his skin feels when it's being pulled together by thread, and it works to some extent; his mind ends up drifting as he wonders about his siblings and if they miss him - What are you guys up to? Have any fun lately? He wonders about Finn and Zeus and Uriel and Damian (and Leon thinks about the letter he was handed out of the blue by their escort, thinks, Stay strong and remember that I'm cheering for you, thinks that he wishes he's noticed Damian Hale before), and Leon wonders if they even think about him anymore. Or am I just an old memory?

The time for them might be just over a week but Leon's been away from Four for decades, aging years with every minute that passes. Life in acceleration. He'll never grow any younger.

He's pulled out of his thoughts when Siren sinks to her knees in front of him. Eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, Leon watches as Siren tries her best not to look away from the stitched-up cut on his stomach with growing amusement. I don't remember you being this shy, he thinks, and the hand not dripping with plant mess reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The pink tint on Siren's cheeks say otherwise.

When she straightens up she looks vaguely mortified, refusing to meet Leon's gaze. He's about to step forwards and touch her cheek, quirk an eyebrow, quip, "That's not what you did on the train," because he wants to see the blush spread further over her skin, the slack-jawed then annoyed expression that he imagines she'll make flitting across her face so fast that he can barely catch the change - but they're interrupted by incessant beeping. The sponsorship container lands in Siren's hands, and, holding his hands up respectfully (remembering the stick-man and the bubbles that Siren seemed so enthusiastic about), Leon backs away and looks over his shoulder for their allies. Where did they get to?

"They'll get you one too, I'm sure." Leon glances back, sees the syringe, and pulls another face at her. More needles. He nods, though, and watches her inject herself.

Her expression almost immediately becomes slightly spaced, and she takes a seat on the ground again. "Come and sit. You need to rest." Leon sticks out his tongue briefly, but settles on the piece of ground next to her.

"You have nice sponsors," he murmurs.

His body feels heavy.

Leon rests his head on Siren's shoulder.

She reminds him of the ocean, Siren does - not just for her name, but in her mannerisms, in her movements. She's tempestuous and calm in equal parts, switching easily from one mood to the other in conjuction with the sea - she's wild and beautiful and seemingly untameable, and it calms him because the ocean is not even home, it's a part of him that he can't get rid of and his world without it - like now - is skewed. It's wrong.

(Home makes it right, too.)

A wave of sadness washes through him, and Leon closes his eyes against it (feeling the pull again, but he doesn't know where it's from anymore).

His hand trembles on his lap. He closes it into a fist and tucks it against his torso.

I need a distraction.

"So what's with the bubbles? Did you meet with a sponsor while I was busy frolicking with the other tributes?" he asks lightly, thinking, I should have kept it as just frolicking. "Whoever it is sending you stuff must really like you."

Oh Darling, Are You Gonna Leave Me? by London Grammar (LCAW Remix)

Black rose on a dusty road on fire
burns in the distances higher

[Kire]

[googlefont="La Belle Aurore:400"]

  Siren Baitwell

       I wish you were here on the shore, That we could build up something new

Leon sticks his tongue out at her and it made her smile, he was so like a little kid sometimes that it was easy to forget he was actually older than her. In him she saw both of her brothers, but he was also different enough from either of them to give him a certain zest. It had been what had drawn her in on the train, and now it was what kept her always interested in his well being. He had become important to her, though she couldn't have said how, and she clung to his presence as dearly as if he was her beloved ocean. When he sat beside her she pawed lightly at his leg, toying. "You have nice sponsors."

It was when Leon rested his head on her shoulder that she realized just how badly the poison was effecting him. Perhaps she should have used the antivenom on him instead, no one had told her that it had truly been for her. What if she got it wrong? Worry grew like a pit in her stomach as she reached up with a hand to run her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp lightly. Her eyes watched as he clenched a hand into a fist and tucked it into himself, her gaze softening with affection and worry. "So what's with the bubbles?" His question shock her enough for the hand on his head to stop it's massaging and she turned to face him as best as she could.

"Did you meet with a sponsor while I was busy frolicking with the other tributes?" Again she was startled, but this time by the twisting in her gut that happened when he had said "frolicking with the other tributes". She couldn't be jealous, could she? It wasn't fair to think that either she nor Leon would make a relationship of this, besides it had only been one night and then however little time they had spent together until now. There wasn't enough there to call him anything more than an acquaintance, let alone her... It just wasn't anything. Then the first part sunk in and she heard the implication in his tone. About to rebut his assumption she was cut off as he continued. "Whoever it is sending you stuff must really like you."

She felt a flush creep into her face as her mind immediately went to that night on the roof. The feeling of cool glass on her cheek was almost tangible when she shut her eyes, and she moved her hand from her lap to take up Leon's. In her mind she wasn't there, sitting by the incessantly glimmering cornucopia in the sweltering heat, instead she was beside a much taller boy on the roof of the training center. They had been sitting almost exactly like this, hand in hand, just talking. Was it only one night? And was it only talking? She had paid more attention to the feeling of the night, trying to hold onto the sense of peace that had permeated everything instead of focus on the little details.

It was a bit before she remembered to answer his questions, so lost in the past as she was. "The bubbles... I met someone who liked bubbles." She could feel the light touch of the bubble on her palm, see the curving light they distorted, and feel the spray as they popped. Up on the rooftop it seemed like they would be able to fly forever, but they all burst far too soon. Just like us, she realized, just like every tribute ever. They would all scatter into a thousand flecks of soapy water, leaving behind those bubbles fortunate enough to be made with a thicker skin.

"He's not a sponsor though, he's..." If she said anything it would surely come to haunt her later. This would be the start of the rumors, and she wasn't sure she wanted to do that to him even if she could stand them being there herself. What did it matter what the world thought, she was going to be a monster by the end of this. Already she was a worse person than when she had entered, ready to kill and never ready to die. "He's important." Leon could put two and two together, certainly, it wouldn't be too hard for him to figure it out. Well, maybe, if he was as woozy as he seemed then he might be hard pressed to think straight. Trying to change the subject she attempted to look Leon in the face - though the angle made it awkward. "So, how many tributes did you frolic with?"

It was just enough to morph the small thoughtful expression she had been wearing into something a bit more devious. Still, she couldn't help the nagging thought at the back of her mind whispering the question. And how much do they mean to you? While she might be able to justify that it was purely due to concern for his feelings, in case a situation arose where they had to fight someone he had had "relations" with, there was no way she could deny to herself that there was something more churning in her gut. It was one time.

[анзие (Anz)]

[googlefont="La Belle Aurore:400"]

  Leon Krigel

       the sound is a river that flows through your hair

Silence often speaks more than words, and in greater volumes - her voice may be breathtaking but Siren is no exception. The moment her fingers stop carding through his hair, Leon cracks open an eye to peer at her. Hmm? She's blushing, and her expression is so vague that she may as well be on the other end of the world. Someone special, then. Love and its brilliance never fail to shine through - at least, not where Leon can see (and he feels like he's been blinded for years).

I'm onto you, Siren Baitwell.

It's beautiful to watch.

(But where's the beauty in this place?)

Youthful faces lighting up with no fear; happiness growing in the golden glow of the sun.

(It's red here to turn out their blood in the same shade.)

Beautiful.

(Home pulls at him at all angles, a circular motion where he's lost and it may be the fatigue speaking but the idea of stumbling blindly to him is so much more appealing than sitting here with nowhere to go.)

So many things he can say to that silent admission, ranging from lecherous to sympathetic, and maybe it's best that he's distracted. Siren's hand curls against his, knitting their fingers together; the pads of her fingers press lightly on the back of Leon's hand, and he's surprised enough to close his mouth and wait for her cue.

(He's had moments of peace with the tips of his finger tracing the curve of someone else's smile, exchanging breaths, but this is intimate without being intimate at all - and Leon's not even technically involved.)

What are you thinking, little bird?

"The bubbles... I met someone who liked bubbles. He's not a sponsor, though, he's... he's important." Still she sounds so far away, locked in a memory of her own volition; Leon tries his best not to jar her frame when he shifts closer to rest a significant portion of his weight on her body, his cheek resting against her shoulder. Are you thinking what I'm thinking? A cheeky little smile makes its way onto Leon's face and he resists the urge to tickle her until she starts telling him what she's thinking. This is actually one thing I want to know.

"He sounds important - is he someone I should be worried about?" Leon teases lightly; he's not sure if Siren hears because she doesn't respond. Bubbles, huh? Certainly not Leon himself - and that makes sense, because their one drunken night together doesn't mean anything to either of them. Does it? Surely it means less to her than it does to him, because for Leon she's the first to give his psyche a rest, to take him out of himself and leave him feeling stronger for it. He's just... someone she spent a convenient night with back when they needed it.

Still, here we are. Here they were, any attempts at distance shattered by memories and feelings for anyone and everyone that would be better put to rest; her hand still remains in his, and he's still trusting her with his weight like they're lovers. Here we are, with guns to our heads and looking for peace where we left it between our bodies. Leon closes his eyes again, breath leaving on a sigh. "Bubbles," he murmurs to himself sleepily, but before his mind can make any jumps to conclusion, Siren's balance shifts; when Leon opens his eyes again, she's looking down at him. "So, how many tributes did you frolic with?"

Leon quirks an eyebrow at her and thinks, I'm glad I found you instead.

"Is that jealousy I feel?" he teases, squeezing her hand gently, matching the look on Siren's face with a devious little smile of his own. Leon nudges her with his elbow, amusement in his eyes. "Ms Baitwell, I didn't know you cared. If you must know," he says, a touch more wickedly but not dropping the lofty tone of voice, "I didn't get to join Mr Johnwayne... anywhere, really." Pity, that, too. The larger career is intimidating, but something about his forbidding stance appeals - even to Gamemakers, it seemed. "Or Charlotte." And it's the first time he mentions her to Siren at all, first time he's mentioned any of them since he saw Owen. Leon's expression darkens just a little, and he shakes his head to clear his thoughts. Bubbles. The word nags at him. He used to play in a bubbly bath as a kid, and when Michel was born he remembers pouring a gallon of soap into the tub. His little brother liked the foamy stuff, but he used to cry when soap got into his eyes.

A name pops into mind.

Soap O'Leary.

Soap.

Bubbles.

Oh.

His eyes lift to meet Siren's, but he doesn't say a word.

The beeping of a silver parachute grows louder from over their heads.

Leon receives general antivenom from sponsorship
Leon uses general antivenom to cure poisoning

Breathe In by Amarante

When my skin starts crawling
I feel all your eyes on me

[Kire]

[googlefont="La Belle Aurore:400"]

  Siren Baitwell

       I wonder why I am so sure Nothing's stronger than me and you

"He sounds important - is he someone I should be worried about?" She barely heard him over the sound of the city in her mind, over the gentle voice of Soap speaking in soft tones to her. He was so careful, but there was iron in him too. Even so, iron can be a brittle thing, and the sea can wear away at it easily. With the image of the victor in her mind she hisses in a pleasant surprise as Leon leans further against her, thinking it wasn't her District partner, but the tall bubble-blowing boy she had left behind. "Bubbles," the word drew her further into the past, watching the air-filled soapy water rise into the night. She brought a hand up to her cheek and touched the spot where one bubble had landed on her. It was so long ago, it felt like an eternity and yet it also felt like just a single second.

Leon's squeeze of her hand startled her out of her reverie, but she didn't pull away from his weight - even though the heat was making them both sweaty and hot. "Is that jealousy I feel?" She was almost ashamed when he asked, trying to fight it as much as he was trying to draw the truth from her. "No." It was all she could say, there was no proof that it wasn't jealousy, and it sure felt like jealousy. Unless he was talking about his own feelings? No, his tone wasn't introspective. She felt his elbow press against her side, a nudge meant to be as teasing as his words. All it did was add another point of contact between their bodies and leave her wanting to get closer. "Ms Baitwell, I didn't know you cared. If you must know," he was never going to stop teasing her about this, and she found she didn't mind as much as she should. "I didn't get to join Mr Johnwayne... anywhere, really." Even the suggestion of him spending any particular time with the brutal Career boy sent a flare of that horrible feeling through her gut.

"Or Charlotte." Her expression turned to confusion, and she tried to look at him but it was now impossible. Who's Charlotte? He stays quiet for a while and she wonders if he's thinking that he would have rather gotten together with them. The flame in her stomach was burning her from the inside and she wanted to squirm away from him. "But-" She barely got the word out before Leon lifted his head from her shoulder and looked into her eyes. Her breath caught at the look he gave her and she wasn't sure what to do now. Was that accusation in his eyes, or fear, or... was that jealousy? It felt like they were in the same boat now, the waves rocking them side to side as they faced off from either end. They hung on desperately to the edge but sooner or later they would capsize. Somehow, this didn't feel like the ocean, it was too dark - and the feeling was all wrong. She had no idea what they were sailing on, but it wasn't something she wanted to fall into.

The silence was broken by the sound of a sponsorship parachute. It pinged and floated, pinged and floating, pinged and floated, until it landed on the ground in front of them. Siren took a breath and then extricated herself from Leon. Gingerly, though she knew the cases could protect anything, she opened the gift. Inside was another syringe, exactly like the one she had used on herself only moments before. She plucked it from its resting place and turned to Leon. "I told you they'd get you one." There was no teasing tone in her voice, it was quiet and simply stated a fact. Slowly, she moved to sit by him again. "Here I'll just..." She carefully took his hand and placed it on her thigh, palm up, so that his arm was stretched out in front of him.

"Breathe with me, and don't look at it. It'll pinch and then it'll be over." She kept her gaze trained on his and only glanced down to make sure she had the point of the syringe lined up with his vein properly. Then she caught his eyes again, breathing deeply and slowly, and inserted the needle. She was as gentle as she could be, and pressed the plunger as quickly and gently as she could. When it was over she removed the syringe and bent down to press her lips to the spot she had pricked. "Not so bad, right?" She just sat there, staring at him with the used syringe in her hands, quiet and still as she looked at him. Suddenly it felt like they weren't clinging so desperately to the boat, though the waves rocked it no less fiercely and the water beneath them looked a little less alarming.

It wasn't smooth sailing, but what is?

[анзие (Anz)]

[googlefont="La Belle Aurore:400"]

  Leon Krigel

       and the walls kept tumbling down

The parachute glides to the sand paces away from where they sat, and Siren is the first of them both to move. Leon lets her, resting his elbows on his knees, hunched over his middle; he slides his hands into his hair to keep himself from planting face-first into the ground.

He hears the click of the box opening, hears Siren's exhale and her voice, "I told you they'd get you one." Matter-of-fact, neither smug nor laughing; Leon appreciates it, because his head is swimming with the words 'bubbles' and 'Soap O'Leary' spinning around and around and around like he's started a whirlpool of questions he doesn't really have to right to ask, anyway. One night, remember?

(What the hell was in that drink?)

Besides, it's not like he can say anything, with his own heart hurting at the very thought of Owen out there, hating him for all the things Leon can't bring himself to do (to say). At least Siren's got someone like that to welcome her back, if she gets out of here alive. If he makes it out of this arena, Leon... goes back to his life in Four alone. And that's the truth of the matter.

That's why there's no out, here. Not for them.

(It hurts to think.)

"Here, I'll just..." One of his hands is slipped out of his hair, and Leon opens his eyes in time to see through his lashes the syringe in Siren's hand, similar to the one she'd used on herself. For the poison, then, and likely not a moment too soon. He tries to nod with his head still in his hands but the movement is lost in the tension of his arms; his right arm is stretched out to rest in Siren's lap, and Leon forces himself to lift his head and watch it happen. "Breathe with me, and don't look at it. It'll pinch and then it'll be over."

Leon offers her a wry grin. "It's going to happen whether I look or not." Ugh, needles. But he takes her advice, meeting her steady gaze with one as blank as he can manage. The needle pinches, then there's a small spike of pain before it's in and oh fuck I've got a needle in my vein. He can feel the liquid pooling in the area under his skin as Siren presses on the plunger, feels the pounding of his heart washing the antivenom along his bloodstream; in his struggle not to look, Leon's lips part to form a small 'o', then press together in a thinner line. Needles, he thinks in disgust, Who invented needles, anyway?

The syringe is removed soon after, and he feels the brush of Siren's lips over his skin. Startled, Leon stops staring into space to stare at Siren instead; her eyes look steady, calm, and Leon suddenly feels like he's missed so much more than he thinks. "Not so bad, right?" Leon raises an eyebrow at her in response, then reaches up to run the pad of his thumb over Siren's bottom lip. His fingers rest on the underside of her jaw, and he feels the beat of her pulse on his skin.

"Better than dying of poison," he agrees quietly. The antivenom works quickly, because his mind is clearer than it was before - it causes him to notice just how sluggish his movements are, almost like the poison was preparing to place him into a coma-like sleep. (He suppresses the spike of fear in his gut.) "Thank you." The sensation of floating washes over him like the waves of an ocean, and Leon sways in, breaths away from Siren, gaze locked on hers, and-

And he stops.

Smiles.

"I guess he'll be mad if I..."

His lips brush her cheek instead, light and affectionate; meaning nothing, but everything too. Thank you.

(Which one?

Both. Both of them, always both.)

Leon holds the position for a long moment, then sits back and lifts his arm to examine the almost imperceptible pink mark the needle left on his skin. "Where do you think they went off to?" he asks, keeping his tone light. "Jacinda and May - they're taking a really long time to get here, aren't they?"

Elastic Heart by Sia ft The Weeknd & Diplo

And I will stay up through the night
Let's be clear, won't close my eyes

[Kire]

[googlefont="La Belle Aurore:400"]

  Siren Baitwell

       Now I'm leaning on the stage door As I'm writing these words for you

Her kiss had drawn his eyes to hers and away from whatever space and time he had been staring at. She smiled wryly as his eyebrow rose, then paused as his thumb rose to her bottom lip. His touch was soft and her smile turned into something a little stronger, his hand under her chin as though guiding her face towards his. But nothing happens, nothing but words. "Better than dying of poison." The tone of his voice was not as teasing as she thought it would be, instead it was more solemn. It was so unlike him that she couldn't even respond. "Thank you." She watched him lean forward, waiting waiting, eyes locked with his. It was moments, seconds, heartbeats away.

Then it wasn't. Instead he just smiled, frozen so close to her that it would have taken almost no effort for her to close the gap. She wonders if it's sadness in his eyes, or fear. Her teeth come down on her lip as she holds back her disappointment, or tries to. "I guess he'll be mad if I..." She knew what came after, but she wanted him to say it - she wanted him to admit what he had been about to do and prove to her that she hadn't been crazy. Couldn't he see that she had been waiting for it, almost longing for it? After this long he couldn't even give her a taste of the past. Of course not, not now that he knew.

When he leans in she's ready for it, waiting to shut her eyes and forget for a brief second. Except his lips only touch her cheek in a butterfly's kiss and are gone again. She catches his scent and is so close to dragging him back, cameras be damned, but she can't. The image of Colgate looking at her, of her hand on his cheek, of their fingers intertwined. She's stuck between then and now and everything inside of her is a mess. There's no way to know which one is real because everything is right now and how can she figure anything out. Her mind is spinning and she's looking for something solid to grasp, something, anything.

"Where do you think they went off to?"

She breathes in, taking air into lungs that she didn't know were empty. There isn't enough time before he's speaking again. The feelings are fading, the panic and confusion, but it's still not enough. Outside she retains the look of a calm ocean, but underneath the currents are running wild, curling and spiralling, dragging her down in a haze. What's going on? Her eyes lock on Leon as the only thing steady in her raging storm. Like a life raft she knows he's the only thing that will keep her afloat in the waves. Her arm stretches out and she grabs his hand, pulling herself closer in a desperate attempt to shelter herself from the battering of the ocean that was her soul.

"Jacinda and May - they're taking a really long time to get here, aren't they?" She barely registers his words as she buries her face in his shirt, breathing in his smell and ignoring the scent of sweat and dirt and blood. Slowly the world around her settles and she draws back, her hand still gripping his. "I-I'm not sure." She takes a deep breath, tries to steady herself further, begins to speak again. "I didn't pay attention to them." I was only thinking of you.

Her gaze falls to her lap and she takes another deep breath. Steady, steady. Panicking will get you drowned. Breathe, relax, float. Carefully, fearful of his reaction, she looked up to gaze at his face. "Leon I... I don't know what's going on." She didn't mean the Games, though sometimes she had no idea what was going to happen next, it was easy enough to understand that everything was on day-by-day basis and you couldn't count on anything. It was simple, it was instinctual. The feelings that were roiling in her gut, however, were not.

"Wh-what's going on, here, with us?" She breathed again, in and out extending the time of her inhale and exhale as long as she could. Composed, at least mostly, she looked him directly in the eyes. "What is it, between us?"

She wasn't really sure if she wanted to know.