all the things lost } { harvey } { dars/avalon

[Avalon]

H A R V E Y

"what more is there
to hold on to?"

Six years old-
She watched through the dust and grime covered mirror that rested vertically against the wooden walls of the so-called-home they had lived in. Silence was golden in the hours and days that passed beneath the hands of a mother and father who were quickly fading as fast as they'd came into their lives. Watching blankly into a canvas of a world that had resembled their own, she pursed her lips and tapped the tips of her delicate toes against the fragile glass. Words were never spoken when she found even the slightest, substantial enjoyment in her precious little mind.


It was a repeated, systematic order of balance- one that matched their life, and how much everything was kept in to control, despite how unfair the consequences dealt their cards to the Harvey's. Soaked, tight curls in her natural hair, tangled like vines through a forest of beauty. Her eyes pitter pattered in place of her steps, wandering around the room in which light gleamed ever so brightly through the small cracks in the wood. A tattered junkyard of a home they'd lived, but it was home nonetheless in her eyes.


Bringing the brush back, her mother gripped the end of her hair in the palm of her wrinkling hands. Shaking upon touch, by even just the littlest grip, she thought nothing of the difference between the two of them. 'They were just the type of people where- everything was- eternal.'


Tick-tocking her feet back and forth in a rhythm that stayed with her throughout her life, the girl began to whistle a melody. Self-taught and learned to make do through the years, she would sing along to the hummingbirds that flew in the garden on the summer days. It was her form of pure happiness, and albeit, she found her ways of happiness in a home of broken glass and crooked panels.


Through the static of the little, antique radio, that had only just barely worked, she listened to the olden swing and jazz music on very special occasions. Their family never had much, but were indeed very grateful for all the little things they could appreciate. 


Tapping her feet the the faint beat of the music, her mother only made attempts to settle the girl down.

"Please settle down."

Her voice wasn't strict- wasn't stern, but she would obey, only to please her mother. For she'd always been considerate for others over herself. A quality that remained as she grew older, looking after everyone else, before herself. It was almost destined that she would turn to the motherly figure when their original grew attached to her bed without choice. And so she- Raja Harvey- became the overseer of the young ones, while Dexus- while Dexus grew to be the father figure over them, as their own was slowly fading as quickly as the years and days passed on.


["You touch the lives of everyone around you,
And yet-
It's almost overwhelming for you,
Isn't it?"]

My attention drew back from the dirty mirror that always laid at rest upon the same wooden boards that made up the barriers of out existence- the splintered walls of our home.


His face was full of rage, and it wasn't only that I could understand why, but because of it. The father figure to all, and the one who would go to no end to protect and serve us, in the way that some would call unorthodox. His fists rest tense aside him, the skin flushed with a subtle redness. Eyes piercing mine, as I stray them away to avoid clear contact, my decision was wrong, and perhaps I could admit to that, but what were we to do? It is time for a change.

"Dexus-

You do not understand."

It is clear that he does, and only the sound of my voice, with the words escaping past my parted lips, is what could set him over the edge. But it is true, need for the others was more important, and although outcomes are never up to par of the risks taken- it was at the least to try.

"Change is needed-

I canno-

We cannot keep living like this."

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

D E X U S
HARVEY

He was the sneaky hands of a bandit, the feet of a thief. He took from the wealthy and gave to his family, and maybe that was wrong, yes, certainly wrong, but necessary. "Please just... don't get caught," Ester had once plead. How sad it was that she, eventually, would have to do the same things to ensure her own family's survival. They were monsters by force, creatures of habit taught their tricks in ways that were supposed to prevent them from doing the very acts they did.

("Do not put food in your pockets." "Do not get help from others to do these deeds, as they'll be just as responsible.")

Incidentally, by doing just what they told him not to do, he got what he wanted. People were caught all of the time, probably taking for the first time and not knowing what to do. It was a process, not quite as simple as putting pieces of fruit in one's pockets and leaving. Dexus just happened to be very, very skilled at it after so many years of practice.

He was not proud of these deeds. In fact, he was quite ashamed of them. How pitiful it must have been to people like the Hall family or the Legume family, to see people like Dexus and company, to see them stealing and begging for their next meals, to watch as they die off one by one.

Of course, in recent years, things have improved. Katelyn had won, then Kirito, and by the looks of it, Harbinger Rhodes would give District Eleven a three-year Victor streak. Food was beginning to come in more and more, for the wealthy at least.

People like Dexus still had to take in order to survive.

"Dexus- You do not understand."

He wanted to scream at his sister, to tell her she was right: he didn't understand, but he couldn't lie to her. He would never lie to her.

He did understand. That was the problem.

He shook his hair with a calloused hand and did his best to keep the fire in his throat out of his tone. "Raja, I never wanted--" His core shook. Dexus Harvey was not certain if anger was breaking him, or grief.

"I have always done this so that no one else has to! When it's me, it's okay. I can handle being punished. I can't..." He pursed his lips.

"I can't handle anyone else getting hurt, Raja. I can't handle you being hurt. I can't risk that." He was well-aware that he was practically the girl's father despite being only a few years older than her, and he hated just as much as she did. But their parents were old and worn with time and effort, their hands shaky and knees weak. They couldn't work. They could barely stand. Dexus had grown up so that his brother and sister could have childhoods.

And apparently, he had failed.

"It's my fault, isn't it? I made you do this?"