Dreams of the Lost {Katelyn/Rade}

[Tom]

Writing Thinks Says Hears

The people in the District were running around like chickens without their heads. The people hastily setting up celebratory decorations for the newest victor. Harbinger Rhodes, Victor of the Seventy First Hunger Games, and honestly it sickened Wilson to watch the people celebrate a man who killed his own ally to win. People celebrated the victor, yet families, friends, and lovers, all mourn the loss of the other tribute. Kirito Miristioma, Victor of the Seventieth Hunger Games, didn't have this problem. The only District Eleven tribute during that Hunger games, and still Wilson Izar-Krane disliked him like the rest of the the victors in District Eleven.

Then there was Katelyn Persimmon, Victor of the Sixty Ninth Hunger Games, who was his brother's district partner. His brother who died by the hands of Ellexias Verisity, the girl from District Six, also a part of Katelyn's perfect alliance. The whole district was up in cheers when Katelyn had made it back. Victory with a sacrifice. The sacrifice of the Sixty Ninth was Levi Izar-Krane and their mother who didn't get the medicine that she desperately had needed. Pain and suffering were all that Wilson gained from Katelyn's victory. A reward only given to the losers of Panem. A reward that'll tear and rip at the hearts of the ones close to the dead tributes. Annora Taylor had met the same fate as Levi in the Seventy First. Three games of victory, but also sacrifices across all of Panem.

They were all puppets, strings attached to the capitol, pulling and twisting the people into submission. A submission that pressed on everyone in the District. Victory was only hidden with a stronger string on the victors, doing Snow's bidding. Slaves that did his bidding to control the Districts from going rebellious on them. Wilson knew what the role of a victor was, it was obvious to the dumbest of people, yet the people sheep of District Eleven followed it blindly without knowing. Stupid ran within the District and Wilson ignored it more often than not. Keeping his mouth shut was better than being ripped apart and dead.

The nightmares of the night before flood into his head once more like they did every day. Blood and sorrows. Cries of pain and loss. The visions of his brother's head busting open like a water balloon that was filled with too much water. The cries of his father after watching the scene. His mother dying in his arms. The nightmares haunted him like the rest of the Izars that still lived on. Wilson was broken. Broken inside and out. Emotions hidden in public, only for Wilson to go home and cry until the day was over, but days like that were fading away, as was the pain. It's been two games since his brother's death. Sorrow only felt like a slight throbbing pain in his heart.

Celebrations of Harbinger Rhodes were happening. Wilson wanted to hide away, but his father had fallen for the victory and forced him to be at the event. People of all over the district littered the place and Wilson hated it. The annoying ways of all the people who had hope for District Eleven to win yet again, but Wilson knew. The boy knew the capitol wouldn't have anymore of it. District Eleven would have a drought of victors for a long while. It happened with District Twelve after Heron Kimberling had won the Fifty Seventh Hunger Games. History repeated itself over and over and Wilson knew this was going to be a drought.

Avoidance was the key to surviving this whole celebration thing, yet Wilson was never good at avoiding people. Smiling wasn't something he knew anymore. That was the main reason his avoidance skills were lacking. When someone isn't smiling about a victor, people tend to wonder about you and talk to you. That's when Wilson was quietly walking away, escaping his father's wants, but good things never happen for Izar-Kranes. They always seemed to run into Katelyn Persimmon somehow. Wilson paled at the sight of the woman. The woman who had been Levi's district partner. His voice trying to find words to say, "K-Katelyn Persimmon." Avoidance wasn't going to be able to be achieved now. Wilson Izar-Krane didn't want anything to do with Katelyn Persimmon, yet words flashed in his head. Words that the boy wanted to say to the victor, but pissing off a victor probably wasn't a good idea, especially at an event about a victor.

The woman's blonde locks and blue eyes seeming like a very frightening feature to someone like him, yet at the same time, comforting in a way. A way that Wilson couldn't figure out how to put it in words. Wilson let the words from his lips in a soft manner, "Interesting to see a victor come to this celebration." Wilson wasn't one for talking much, but Katelyn Persimmon was in front of him and there was no avoiding it for him. He's avoided it for long enough and the chance was there, so he was taking it.

Wilson Izar-Krane was a broken man. A broken man who blamed everything on the victors and the capitol. The broken cracks that hide within him only being hidden away by the boy's sheer willpower to seem fine, but his father knew. People knew. Wilson was weak and broken. Happiness doesn't come along for a boy like him. The best he could was smile and move on past it. A smile plasters itself onto Wilson's face as he stands before Katelyn Persimmon. The sorrow being shoved down hidden within the fake smile. Broken men smile to conceal their cracks.

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

There were dozens of gatherings like this all over the district, same as last year and the year before. Everywhere, people were toasting each other and getting drunk; digging out old metal and wood instruments and filling the air with delightful twangs sharp trills. This year had the biggest celebrations yet, the kind the district had never seen, and sadly, probably not to be seen for years to come if the Capitol had their way. But that was in the future, and right then, Katelyn was thinking about her past. Passerby nodded or waved as she walked around, a few saying her name out loud like it was a good luck charm.

It was a lot for a nineteen year old to deal with, even if her next birthday wasn’t that far away.

Especially when the people that weren’t around anymore weighed on her mind. She’d left the graveyard behind some time ago, her present for Opal tucked away safely in her house. But the names and the graves stuck with her. Potato. Annora. Stella. Crusader. Ingrid. Levi. So much loss. What had she said to Arbor? That he couldn’t say his tributes were worth less than the other districts. They were equally important, because everyone mattered to someone. But that didn’t mean that they were equally important to everyone. Famlies in district three could care less about a grieving family in nine if they thought their loved one was going to come home. Heather Tenley’s family was probably cursing Harbinger’s name even as his own family wept tears of joy and clung tightly to him.

Being alone with your thoughts as a victor was no less stressful if you chose to focus on others instead of shutting the world out and losing yourself in you.

As happened more often than not, Katelyn caught someone staring at her. A boy, probably around her age, hovering around the fringes of one of the gatherings. But she knew him. It was hard to forget faces in eleven for her. Especially when she’d seen said face standing on a platform underneath the very large screen showcasing her fallen district partner. When she’d tried to find members from his family for a few years now and they always seemed to find a way to avoid her; not that she blamed them.

There was a resemblance there; she could see it in the color of the hair, the shape of the nose. He could have very well been the boy she’d rode on the train with. The one she’d been afraid of, simply because of the last name he had. She’d hardly said more than two words to him the entire time before the games. And the last time she’d seen him alive and been when Lexi had split his skull with her ice pick. “Interesting to see a victor come to this celebration.” Katelyn raised an eyebrow. “Interesting to finally get ahold of an Izar. What's your name?” She said in response. Almost three years since she had come home and the only one she’d talked to was Sampson; and that been right after her own victory tour.

The one in front of her smiled, but she’d seen that look on more faces than she ever wanted to. A person who smiled with their mouth but not their eyes. It was always the eyes that gave it away. Katelyn fidgeted with her bandanna, unsure of what to say. There was really no way she could make things right; she couldn’t give Levi back to the Izar’s. He was gone, and they knew that better than anyone. Three years she had tried to find them and apologize in full, but they always scattered before her like snowflakes caught in a wind current, and now the words were hard to get out. “He was braver than me.” She said after a moment.

“Volunteering like that for a stranger. I had no choice in the matter.  Hell, I was scared of everything. I was scared of him.” She snickered wryly and shook her head. “Yeah, they leave that part out of the articles they write about me. Can’t have a victor sounding too human I suppose.” Someone set off a firecracker nearby and her head snapped around like a hawk to focus on the sudden noise before looking back at him with a sigh. “Look, I... I know the Izar's have been avoiding me. I know you must hate me. I’m a living reminder of what you’ve lost. But if your family ever needs anything, all you have to do is ask.”

"When you’ve lost your way, when you have no words,
we are your strength, when you don’t have anymore. "

table coding (c) ghosty

[Tom]

Writing Thinks Says Hears

Katelyn Persimmon stood in front of Wilson, like a reminder of the lives that once had been there, but no gone to the world. Families had been destroyed by Katelyn. Wilson should hate her with all of his might, but at the same time he couldn't. Hate only got a man so far and even with hate, it was useless to hate someone who was forced to fight for their life. Katelyn was a survivor of the fight. A reminder of what she had to do to live. A reminder of all the people she was forced to kill to survive the end of a life ending game. Wilson Izar-Krane tried to remember this, but couldn't always remember it. Grief and knowledge mix as well together as oil and water.

Ktelyn Persimmon spoke to Wilson, eyes focused onto him. “Interesting to finally get ahold of an Izar. What's your name?” We aren't that hard to get ahold of? Izars were actually rather hard to get ahold of if Wilson had to think about it. There were so little of them left after the games had taken three of their family members and sent them to their doom in the games. Wilson let his name slip out into the open for Katelyn to hear. "Wilson. Wilson Izar-Krane. I'm Levi's younger brother." The words felt like a chain attached to his ankle holding the weight of his sorrows at the opposite end. A chain holding Wilson down to the nightmare known as reality. A throbbing pain in his chest changing into a sharp stab of grief. The once smiling man, letting it fall for a rather blank face trying to hide the sadness that wanted to show.

Katelyn's words begin and the onslaught of the words wanting to break Wilson from the inside out, “He was braver than me.” Bravery was only a cover for something more. Stupidity, determination, or a cause. Those were the only reasons a person was brave. Levi had followed one of those and Wilson knew which of them it was. A determination to win for his mother's sake. Determination to get the money to get the medicine that was needed to say their mother's life, but that didn't go as planned for the rather brave brother. Wilson had watched the determination shatter like Levi's skull from the ice pick. Life and death were the only factors in the Games. Levi was brave, but only because their mother was at home dying, he was brave for her.

Katelyn continues her words about Wilson's brother, “Volunteering like that for a stranger. I had no choice in the matter. Hell, I was scared of everything. I was scared of him.” A snicker comes from her and she shakes her head. Wilson just feels his hands shake slightly. Katelyn Persimmon had been afraid of his brother. The brother that worked with their mother in the garden planting spices and herbs. The brother that offered to help everyone he could. The brother that was sweet to everyone that they had known. Levi Izar-Krane wasn't scary. A laugh comes out of Wilson's lips, being afraid of Levi Izar-Krane was a joke. Katelyn's words continued to show how human the woman actually was, “Yeah, they leave that part out of the articles they write about me. Can’t have a victor sounding too human I suppose.” Katelyn was as human as they all were, yet Wilson still felt on edge around her.

A firecracker goes off and Wilson's eyes follow the bright firecracker. Eyes focus back on Katelyn. His face still showing small signs of the sorrows hidden within. The frown beginning to form on his face, yet he pushes it back within himself. Katelyn's last words filter through Wilson's ears, “Look, I... I know the Izar's have been avoiding me. I know you must hate me. I’m a living reminder of what you’ve lost. But if your family ever needs anything, all you have to do is ask.” That would have been nice earlier. If Wilson had known about that, he would have asked Katelyn to buy the medicine that Levi had gone in the games for. It was too late. Their mother had died, just like Levi had. Death haunted their family just waiting to take another life when the chance arose.

Levi looked at Katelyn, studying her. A sigh falls from his lips as he pushes a hand through his hair. The truth was about to come out. If someone had to tell Katelyn why he volunteered, it should be him and not someone else. Wilson took a deep breath and spoke, "T-That would have been nice to know earlier." A frown takes place n his face for only a second before it goes blank again. Wilson speaks again, his voice staggering a bit, "Katelyn, Levi was brave, in a way I guess. Do you know the real reason Levi volunteered?" Obviously, Katelyn wouldn't know about their mother, almost no one did, but Wilson and his father. The sadness of it was a weight on both, him and his father's hearts. Wilson continues, "Levi volunteered, not for that stranger, but for his mother. We didn't lose just Levi during the Sixty Ninth Games, we also lost our mother. She was very sick and needed medicine that we couldn't afford. She passed shortly after your victory tour." The tears that wanted to fall, were withheld from making an appearance. Wilson continued, "Levi volunteered for the money. He didn't want to be brave. He didn't do it to save a stranger's life. He did it to save his mother's life. Sure it was a bit selfish, but that's all he had. My father and I left when I was really young. Our mother was the only person he had. He sacrificed his life to save the one person he loved the most."

Wilson felt his gut twist in pain from his own words. A tear fell softly on his face. Tears weren't something you should show in public. Wilson quickly reached up and wiped the tear away. More words stumbled out of his mouth, "You know, I should really hate you Katelyn, but I can't. Levi wouldn't want that. Levi wouldn't want me to hold it against you." Wilson felt his hands shake slightly more and tears want to come pouring down, but he pushes them to stay inside. His insides burnt with the stinging pain of grief, yet all of it is held back inside. The frown only showing a small amount of sorrow that sits inside. Broken men don't cry in public.

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

The celebration around them carried on, and she could hear people talking about Harbinger, but thankfully, none of them approached her. Though it seemed that she was a pillar of the community, the spotlight was elsewhere, and for that she was grateful and slightly relieved. The boy in front of her on the other hand,he was uncomfortable. But that was alright. Her own mother was uncomfortable around her. She was no stranger to tension. Every now and then a reaping age kid would stare at her in fear, no doubt thinking of the blood from Dillon’s severed leg spraying across her face, or the thunderous crack of Chaske’s shattered ribs.

When some people insisted on comparing her to a lioness, it was only natural that some people would view her as a predator, perhaps thinking that there was a coiled spring in her chest that if twisted the wrong way would cause her to unsheathe her claws.

Only Capitol paparazzi had to worry about that.

Wilson agreed that his brother had been brave; then he launched into an explanation of why Levi had volunteered, and who for. Not Adonis Ackerman. Their mother. She was sick and needed medicine. Levi had volunteered, hoping beyond hope that if he came home a victor he could afford it and get her the help she needed. Katelyn felt ashamed for fearing him now as he sounded like Marc had been. Somewhere in the ether perhaps, his cousin was laughing at her. But she had sway. She had resources. Levi was gone now, but she could still do something. Do what Levi had died trying. It was the right thing to d-

“She passed shortly after your victory tour”.

Oh.

The stab of guilt that ran through her body pierced deeper than any spear thrust from Margaret ever had.

Her offer tasted like ashes in her mouth; drifting from the burning husk of a home like a mock winter's day. She had been so busy during and after her tour; had been pulled in a million different directions by dozens of people, by the Capitol. Knuckles bleeding on the wallpaper in her new home. Silent screams in the bed. The dreams were so much more vivid then. And yet, even then, after the games had concluded, the suffering had continued elsewhere. She had known then, that twenty-three families had been mourning twenty-three tributes, but she had never thought that something so cruel could happen in the same timeframe.

It hurt her to know that maybe she had tried harder to open a dialogue with them, she might have been able to do something. But it was a moot point. Should’ves and could’ves, regrets and wishes, they were the dreams that faded from memory upon first waking up; slipping through ones hands like smoke and vapor. You couldn’t save everyone. That was a lesson she had learned quickly. But for Wilson to declare that he couldn’t hold her life against her because Levi wouldn’t have wanted him to?

It was humbling.

It was a humbling and no comforting words came to mind. Wilson was trembling with emotion, though he was doing his best not to show it. She thought about putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him, but wasn’t sure how he’d react to that. Instead, she crossed her arms and stared at him sadly.

“Forgive me, if I overstep my boundaries,” she said with a falter. “But I don’t think he’d want you to hold this in either. I’ve been around enough people trying to hide their hurt that I know what it looks like. Grieve alone if you must, but grieve out loud. Internalize what you’re feeling for too long and it’ll destroy you. Just a word of advice, Wilson.” That was all she could offer him. He had lost his brother, and his mother and this was something that she couldn’t even begin to try to fix. Not when she was so close to the situation and yet miles away.

"When you’ve lost your way, when you have no words,
we are your strength, when you don’t have anymore. "

table coding (c) ghosty

[Tom]

Writing Thinks Says Hears

Katelyn Persimmon was not the woman that Wilson had thought she was. Katelyn Persimmon is a kind and caring soul that had to do what she had to do to survive back in the Sixty Ninth Hunger Games. Wilson Izar-Krane could see Katelyn Persimmon being someone that everyone could look up to as a role model. Wilson felt quite a bit better after talking with Katelyn for the short amount of time that they had already talked. Katelyn Persimmon was fixing the broken man in a tiny way, yet Wilson felt like a weight was lifted off his chest. His lungs filling with fresh air from the world, setting a feeling of calm. The Izar boy still wanted to cry, but not in public. That'd be embarrassing for him and Katelyn, though people wouldn't judge them since all of District 11 knows their stories.

The celebration around them continued like nothing serious was happening. Wilson's father within walking distance. His eyes watching the man look at Wilson and smile, before his father's attention was taken back to the celebrations. Wilson had been listening to Katelyn's advice, “Forgive me, if I overstep my boundaries, But I don’t think he’d want you to hold this in either. I’ve been around enough people trying to hide their hurt that I know what it looks like. Grieve alone if you must, but grieve out loud. Internalize what you’re feeling for too long and it’ll destroy you. Just a word of advice, Wilson.” Internalizing the emotions were his best way to do things, but Wilson knew sometimes grieving was the best thing he could do for himself, as long as it was out loud and at home.

Wilson felt his lips twisting up into an expression that he hadn't used in a long time. A small smile takes form on his face, not a fake one, but one that could be considered genuine. A small smile that the one person he would never think of to put it on his face did. Katelyn Persimmon wasn't a bad person like Wilson had originally thought. Her words reminded him of Levi and Wilson's mother. Sweet and knew exactly what to say when Wilson needed words of wisdom. Words of wisdom were what Wilson needed in general. Something to put himself back on his feet even for just a short amount of time.

Wilson spoke to Katelyn, feeling himself happy even if it was going to be short lived, "Thanks, Katelyn." The words simple and meaningful enough to be said, yet Levi had a lot more to say, but his head wouldn't form the words needed to explain how much those words meant to Wilson. Levi was gone, his mother was gone, yet somehow Wilson felt they were there. Somewhere in some form. Words fell out of his mouth again, "I don't think you can ever overstep if you are providing advice. Especially, if that advice is what I need to hear. Seriously Katelyn, Thank you, for this talk." Wilson was going to walk off back to his father, but his feet felt solid and planted to the spot.

Wilson stared at Katelyn for what felt like a minute, but was probably only seconds. Words in his head still fumbling about, until he speaks again, "You know, you sound like my mother. Kind and caring. I really miss her and Levi, but there's nothing we can do now. Please. Please don't blame yourself for my mother's passing. You don't need anymore guilt. If you need anything. Anything at all. Just come find me." Levi lets the small smile fade into a more serious face. Katelyn had done quite a bit in the small amount of time for him, now Wilson wanted to help her if she needed it. She deserved just as much help as Wilson needed. Maybe even more than he did. Wilson may be a broken man, but his cracks were filling, slowly but surely.