you own no one but you [Kate/Desi]

[grim.]

    My eyes flutter open, my vision blurred by vicious sun rays. Each morning within itself had slowly started becoming a never ending morning. Each time I wake, I am one day closer to the day that I will have to face the total corruption of Desimae Warble. I would no longer be that girl. Soon I would be forced to submit to the system because a single body was worthless to them all, I meant nothing. And unless I left that arena victorious, I would continue to mean nothing for the rest of eternity. The realization of who I was slowly becoming was beginning to dawn on me. I was rewiring my brain for murder. I was dismantling everything I was to create some sort of stimulation for these assholes. Though all my life I had been forced to batter the walls of oppression, soon they would reciprocate. 

    I rise from beneath my bed sheets and slip into my normal training attire. I was becoming annoyed at the number plastered all over my top. The constant reminder that to most, I was nothing but a number. I was simply a girl form district eleven, and they had made it nearly impossible for me to break out of that shackled term. I shuffle down the stairs to find something to fill my stomach before I return to my daily schedule. I watch the clock as I descend the stairs, its large black finger pointing to an hour much too early. But I had already arose, though the sun had hardly peeked its way around the horizon. I step lightly toward the kitchen, the sound of sniffling causing me to tiptoe more cautiously. 

    When I arrive at the door, I push it open gently. I was shocked to find Katelyn rummaging through some dishes she seemed to avert her face from my vision. I could tell she was trying to place a force field between herself and I. She pulled her head back into the brim of her shell because I was a threat to her demise. I caught a glimpse of her reddened eyes, the way the tops of her cheeks glistened with moister. Was it possible? Had the almighty victor Katelyn Persimmon crumbled beneath some sort of trauma? I looked up to her, not only as a mentor, but as a women. She beat nearly impossible odds and came out of the other end virtually unscathed. I hadn't even entered the arena and the hardships of my fear were already pastured across my face. 

    I decided to avoid words at first, shimming my way around the counter to see if I could raid the cabinets for something to fill my currently aching stomach. It was odd, how I still felt hunger, though in these past few days my stomach had been kept more full then in all my years spent in the district. As I near Katelyn I decided that silence wasn't going to be my plan of attack. She was suffering, but she didn't want me to know, so I would play dumb, to protect her. "Morning, up a little early aren't you? Shouldn't you get back to sleep? I've heard you victors are pretty high maintenance." I say with a genuine smile.

When I was sarcastic with the boys it always had a heft of anger behind it. But with Katelyn, I felt she understood my pain, my anger, and my sadistic humor. So I interacted with her in my true form. Not angry, not bitchy, not sarcastic, because that was all just a ploy to hide my weakness. I was truly just as innocent and useless as my district partner, the only difference between the two of us is I was willing to let myself in entirety crumble. I was willing to let the boot conform me, and I envy him for staying sane. 

    I continue fumbling through some of the bowls and searching for anything that was edible in this kitchen. Though I had no idea how most of this fancy shit worked, and it made things all the more frustrating. I keep Katelyn in my peripheral, I didn't want her to think I saw her agony, but I wanted her to know that I was present, and I was watching. 

Table by the Brilliant Kousei

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

It was early in the morning, and Katelyn was making herself breakfast. Her night hadn’t been very restful, what with making lists of people to approach for sponsorship and reviewing the last two games to try to find a few patterns. She’d watched Weaver and Iona die two dozen times as she tried to come up with some advice that wouldn’t end in Drake and Desi being surrounded by a fourth of the other tributes in the arena. She’d spent most of the rest of her day in her room after the debacle with Rolf, not wanting to be in public.

At the very least, Kirito had come and gotten her after that mess, taking her back to the quarters in lieu of being escorted there, and they weren’t confining her unless she did it again, the peacekeeper in charge even cracking that she was welcome to beat her fellow victors senseless if she wanted to, but not the kids that were due to be on television. They had to be kept looking nice, he said, and she almost lost her shit again. They were objects in the Capitol’s eyes and existed as little else, certainly not as people.

She had talked with Kirito a bit about being stressed after that, but she hadn’t told him why she felt guilty about the tributes. Why she couldn’t look at herself in the mirror.

Katelyn cracked an egg into a bowl and then leaned onto the counter for support, sniffling quietly while she gripped it until her knuckles were white. She'd been crying a lot more than usual. I’m a fuckin coward for not calling. I never should have agreed to do that stupid show. I just wanted to help. I didn’t want to see another Weaver. Another Iain. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. I’m breaking. I’m losing it and I’ve only been doing this for five years. Five. Long. Hard. Years. She stifled a sob, making an ugly noise somewhere between a huff and a retch. Then she heard someone approaching.

Katelyn turned her head quickly, wiping her brimming eyes on her shoulder. Whoever it was, they didn’t need to see her like this. She wasn’t sure what’d be worse, one of the tributes seeing a mentor cracking under the strain of the stress or one of her fellow mentors knowing that she wasn’t going to be as much help as she usually was. That it was wearing on her, being strong for them. She glanced up and then back to the food she was making in a hurry. It was the redhead. Desi. Katelyn sighed, taking a deep breath and gathering her composure. When she opened her eyes again, she was calmer. Desi started to speak, sounding agonizingly cheerful given the current situation.

“Morning! Up a little early aren’t you? Shouldn’t you get back to sleep? I’ve heard you victors are pretty high maintenance.” There were several things wrong with that statement but Katelyn held her tongue. She hadn’t been sleeping well. She never did in the Capitol. She shrugged and offered the girl a sweet smile. “I usually get up this early to make breakfast. Could always order something up to the room or go eat in the common area, but I prefer the things I make myself.” The pancakes were almost done, and the eggs were just being kept warm in their pan. Katelyn turned away from the girl and flipped a couple strips of bacon over, focusing on the sound of the sizzling.

Desi was rummaging through the cabinets, looking for food, presumably, and Katelyn sighed as she spooned the scrambled eggs onto her plate. The bacon was next and then she put the pancakes on, drizzling maple syrup and a few fresh strawberries onto them before wiping her hands on her apron. She slid the plate down the counter. "Eat. You need to keep your strength up. It’s fine. I’ll just make another batch.” She headed over to the fridge and got the supplies back out, arranging them on the counter before cracking a couple eggs into a bowl. “I usually make food for the boys and the tributes after I’ve eaten anyway. Not that they always eat it.” She snorted wryly as she started whisking.

Silence reigned for a few moments before Katelyn said anything else. “High Maintenance. Heh.” She turned and eyed Desi curiously. “I’m guessing you heard about the scene I caused last night then. With the boy from nine?” Katelyn shook her head and kept her guard up. “Mind you, it was just one peacekeeper that subdued me, not a whole squad. Don’t believe everything you hear.” She tipped the eggs into the pan and got to work making more pancake mix, looking at the food and not Desi’s face.“This is a pretty stressful time of year.” She said carefully.

Weaver. Iain. Iona. Carrita. Annora. But no more. No more family. I fixed things. Right? I paid the piper. I was supposed to feel relief about this. So why does this bother me? What makes the Rhodes and Miristiomas anymore important than the Warbles or the Harvests. Dammit. Was Arbor right about this too? “Tempers can flare. Besides, he threatened the two of you. I reacted accordingly.” She sniffed, holding one of the smaller bowls out to the girl.

“More strawberries?”

"I'm a realist, and an optimist,

but I swear to you, I'm not getting over this."



table coding (c) ghosty

[grim.]

    The silence is finally broken by the hum of her voice. “I usually get up this early to make breakfast. Could always order something up to the room or go eat in the common area, but I prefer the things I make myself.” she says. I glance over at her quickly to try and get a set of reins around what was fumbling through her head, but I had the littlest idea. I watch out of the side of my eye as she finished preparing her plate, my hands still pulling out various bags of indigence that I hand't the slightest clue to do with. My ear is filled with the sound of ceramic gliding across tile as she ushers the plate to me. I begin to place my hand out to deny the offer, but it had been the first time Id seen a cooked meal like this, created by someone who genuinely cared for me. I nod my head in thanks and sit in a near by stool as she continues to speak.

    "Eat. You need to keep your strength up. It’s fine. I’ll just make another batch.” she says. I lift the fork into the air, but I m not quiet ready to indulge, I still needed to discover what pains her so. “I usually make food for the boys and the tributes after I’ve eaten anyway. Not that they always eat it.” she says once more. It was as if she had become lost within her own thought, so I remain silent. If she was going to chat herself into submission then I would just listen to every word. “High Maintenance. Heh.” she says. I cant help but chuckle at the comment. I of course understood that these victors have done things, and survived things that are unimaginable to me, but I knew nothing else but how to poke fun. 

    “I’m guessing you heard about the scene I caused last night then. With the boy from nine?” she says. I had heard vividly about this event, somehow they managed to catch a bit of it on camera. Though they were refusing to show the footage, didn't want to destroy the image of their precious district eleven prize I presume. I had heard word that she began screaming at the boy, telling him that "this wasn't living". What could she mean by that? “Mind you, it was just one peacekeeper that subdued me, not a whole squad. Don’t believe everything you hear.” she says. I had only wished it was a whole squad, the image of Katelyn Persimmon flailing in a heard of white made me giggle. She continue to rumble on about the stress and how fiery tempers can become at this time of year. Hah, tell me about it, I haven't been able to subdue my anger in four years. 

    “More strawberries?” she offers. It was odd, how familiar the red berry felt in my hand, though I had never actually tasted one. My family couldn't afford a luxury like that, and if we were caught eating them while harvesting, we would be punished. I reach out my hand and grab a few more, but neglect to bring them to my mouth just yet. "I haven't tasted one of these before." I chuckle. "The way the skin feels against mine is so familiar, but never once have I put it in my mouth." I look over to Katelyn. "I know what happened with Rolf, and I know that you did what needed to be done, I'm not here to pick you a part." For the first time since I have entered this foreign place I speak genuinely. I was speaking to her as if she was Lilith, I was in full blossom, and I only beg she doesn't harvest my fruit and destroy my image. 

    "But, why don't you tell me how a strawberry tastes, enlighten me." I say leaning back into my chair and giving out a warm smile. I was going to find out why she was hurting, but she had all of her defenses up, though I was a system that would not back down. She could be as stubborn as she wanted, but I had a drive that would conquer. I feel my smile fall after a few moments of silence and I begin to once again get lost in my hurricane of worry. I was going to have to kill innocent people, I was going to become someone else to survive this arena. Desi simply wasn't strong enough. I would never be strong enough. 

Table by the Brilliant Kousei

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

Desi seemed to accept her statements without question, even going so far as to say it wasn’t her job to examine Katelyn’s actions. Katelyn might have focused on that a little harder if she hadn’t been blown away by Desi’s admittance that she’d never actually tasted a strawberry. It made her feel guiltier, somehow; she’d had plenty of cherries growing up, but then, her father had a managerial position, handling the paperwork and the quotas and the shipping.

Did it make that much of a difference? What else was she taking away from Desimae’s future because she had wanted to ensure the future of a couple others? The girl asked her to describe the taste of the fruit to her a moment later. It was an odd request, but Katelyn complied. If anything, she wanted the tributes to be as comfortable as possible before sending them off. That never changed from year to year. Starting with Kirito and moving on until the present. She grabbed a plump berry out of the bowl and nibbled on it.

“I have a friend whose favorite fruit are these. They're sweet,” she began. “With a hint of tartness that never quite made it to being sour; depending on the size of the bite you’ve taken, you might be able to feel the seeds grazing your tongue. Juicy.” Katelyn took another bite and chewed it thoughtfully. “Soft.” The comparisons started to remind her of lips, and another wave of uncomfortableness washed over her. She finished it off and looked at Desi again.

"I doubt you want to spend the morning talking about fruit. Let’s talk about you. How are you holding up? She could guess at the answer. It was rare that someone could face the arena without breaking down on some level. She had; being dragged to the stage in a state of shocked catatonia. Avoiding her district partner and just generally resigning herself to her fate. She thought she’d have been unwilling to change, and she had been, at first.

Right up until she could taste Dillon Hartman’s blood in her mouth as the girl’s severed artery gushed a fountain of red across her face. Until Velocity was dying in the snow, her skull fractured by the strength of a career’s fist.

That had been when it had become real for her.

When she realized there was no turning back.

Survival at any cost.

Katelyn poured the pancake mix into the other pan and leaned on the counter across from Desimae on her elbows, popping another berry into her mouth and fixing her arched eyebrow gaze on the girl.“Well, you’re the first tribute I’ve mentored that wasn’t ready to die, barely said more than two words to me or begged me to train and save their partner instead." She swallowed what was left of the fruit and nodded. “Quite frankly, it’s refreshing.”

Katelyn clasped her hands together before straightening the now iconic red bandanna on her head. “Have you got any questions about what lies ahead? Combat? Allies?” She paused for a moment, searching the other girl’s face.

“It’s alright not to be okay, you know. I can tell you’ve got the drive, you just need some direction.”

"I'm a realist, and an optimist,

but I swear to you, I'm not getting over this."



table coding (c) ghosty

[grim.]

    The look of question pulls across Katelyn's face as i ask her to describe the taste of this red berry. I watch as she uses the regular terms I had heard used when people described the fruit. Sweet, but still a tad tart. It seemed like the same description for most of the berries I had encountered, though we somehow knew how to decipher them, how odd. "I doubt you want to spend the morning talking about fruit. Let’s talk about you. How are you holding up? she says.

I watch as her face becomes more focused on me, her eyes sort of placed in wonder, and it made me itch. I didn't want to lie to Katelyn, I didn't want to keep up the tough girl act, but I was in too deep to break down now. "I'm alright." I start, then my vision sort of falters, looking down to the lap. "Scared as hell, but alright." I finish. I decided it wasn't a completely false answer, but it also wasn't completely true. 

    I then take a large bite out of the red berry in my hand, I smile at her. "You are right, sweet, with just enough tart to not quiet qualify as sour." I say, a drop of red juice spilling form the crease of my mouth. I wipe it with the palm of my hand and attempt to close mouth smile at her with full cheeks, the mood was becoming too airy for my comfort. “Well, you’re the first tribute I’ve mentored that wasn’t ready to die, barely said more than two words to me or begged me to train and save their partner instead." she says. I cant seem to shake this statement, how vividly it cuts into my skin. She goes on to say how my presence is somehow refreshing, asks if I have any tactical questions, but I'm am hung up on the first statement she had made. I just stare blankly at my plate unable to respond. 

    “It’s alright not to be okay, you know. I can tell you’ve got the drive, you just need some direction.” she finished, and I raise my face to meet hers. I was tired of being so afraid and having to keep it locked away cause I'm not ready, and I never would be ready, but there was no other outcome. Katelyn seemed so kind, so genuine, and there were few of these people in the world, not even my parents fir this bill.

"Your right Katelyn, I'm not ready to die...but you see, that's the irony of it all. I don't have a choice. Once I enter that arena I wont come back out as Desimae Warble, and I know that. And I know that the second I enter that arena she is dead, I am dead. Whether or not I am the final body standing." I feel liquid fear begin to pour from my eyes, and for the first time since I have been here, I let another being see my pain. 

    "I'm more afraid then I can even express, I feel my skin crawl when I open my eyes ever morning, dreading how much closer it seems to be getting. I am trying to milk these last few days as much as I can, because at the end of this week, the system will have killed me, Katelyn, just like they have you." I drop my face into my hands. The feeling of warm moister now cupped in my palms. I begin to shake and sniffle. I didn't want her to see my weakness, but I could no longer play this out. I was done being someone who I wasn't. I had to be genuine with at least one person, and here I was sobbing to a women I had only just met a few days ago. Yet I felt like I was more open with her then even my own mother, well before her conversion. I cant bring myself to look back up at her, here I was crumbling and the defense system I had put up, had finally faltered. 

Table by the Brilliant Kousei

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

She wasn’t ready to die. But she didn’t have a choice. Katelyn’s heart hammered in her chest, recalling her fight with Chaske. Blood is dripping down the back of her head. From her thigh. From her bicep. She moves too slowly and the glaive comes down, spiking through her boot her sock and her foot. You asked me if I was ready to die…I think I have to be, she says through bloodied teeth. Are you? Katelyn started to say something, but Desi’s next words struck her in the heart.

“Because at the end of this week, they’ll have killed me, Just like they have you.“

Katelyn’s composure slipped for a moment as a pained expression wrote itself all over her face. Was it that evident? Had she seen? Desimae started crying into her hands and Katelyn bit a knuckle, trying to ignore the lump forming in her throat. This…

No. This girl was in all likelihood heading off to her death. Katelyn owed her more than that. She couldn’t. She couldn’t just let Desimae think that she was as broken as she felt. She had to be stronger than that. The tributes needed to know that there was someone in their corner. Someone strong. Katelyn steeled herself. Then she went around the counter and briefly hugged her. It was simple and it needed doing. When she let go, she sat down on the stool next to her, and put a hand on Desi’s shoulder.

“Hey. Hey, I know alright? I’ve been there. And I didn’t even have a mentor.” She inhaled deeply, gathering her thoughts. “Truth is, you’ll change. If you want to come home, you’ll kill. Even if you try to avoid it, coming home means killing at least once. I tried not to, it didn’t work out that way. I wound up killing thrice.” She said, pointing to the names tattooed on either side of her neck and pulling her shirt down a little to show the cursive letting spiraling upwards. If I’m not the girl I was before my name was called for the reaping, then it means I’m the girl that’s going to kill you.

“Killing people changes you. If you find allies and watch them die, it’ll change you.” She affixed her eyes on Desimae and nodded. “But it doesn’t have to destroy you. If it did, I wouldn’t still be trying to get my tributes home, now would I?” Should I? What’s going to happen to us if eleven wins again? Who will they come for? Who else is going to die because of us? Because of me? Katelyn let her hand drift off and then clasped them together on the counter. “I’m not okay sometimes,” she continued.

“Seems like it’s more frequent these days.”

Katelyn sighed, staring at the stove and the pancakes that probably needed to be flipped before they burned. She turned back to Desimae.  “The Capitol’s taken a lot from me. But I don’t give up. I don’t quit.” Katelyn smiled at the tribute wanly, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “Because if you’re not willing to fight for something, was it worth having in the first place?” she tapped her fingers against the counter and then rose to flip the pancakes she was cooking.

Speaking to desimae here, it did something. She'd meant to comfort the girl but it had gotten her thinking as well. Maybe her name wouldn’t have been picked if Katelyn hadn’t played ball. Maybe. But it had. And she didn't feel any different towards Drake and Desimae than she had towards any of the others. The guilt was still there, but she reminded herself that she’d done it because...for the two families that had come to treat her like one of their own.

But she'd been driven from day one, sitting across from Kirito and doing her best to help him, even when things looked their bleakest. Even when she hadn't known what she was doing, beyond doing what she could.

Because...because...

Because she'd seen someone headed down the road she'd been on and she'd just wanted to help. Because it felt right. And sometimes, it hurt. It hurt when things didn’t go as planned. As hoped. When she made a mistake and she wasn't the only one that it affected. But if she wasn't trying her best, if she wasn't being the person she was, then what was the point? She couldn't control whether or not Desimae died, but she could give her the reassurance that she wouldn't give up on her.

“I think all my tributes are worth fighting for. The Capitol’s not going to take that belief from me.”

"I'm a realist, and an optimist,

but I swear to you, I'm not getting over this."



table coding (c) ghosty

[grim.]

    I begin to feel the burn under my eyelid as the grime from my fingers seeps into my tear ducts. I can sense the redness that had invaded the whites of my eyes. I feel Katelyn's presence become closer, her arms wrap around my shoulders and I feel her warmth. I could feel the beat of her heart against my shoulder blade, and could feel the wisp of her breath against my neck. She seemed almost human. She takes a seat next to me, and keeps her hand pressed against my shoulder. “Hey. Hey, I know alright? I’ve been there. And I didn’t even have a mentor.” she says. I keep my palms over my eyes, my shuttering beginning to grind the skin on my elbows against the hard tile. 

    “Truth is, you’ll change. If you want to come home, you’ll kill. Even if you try to avoid it, coming home means killing at least once. I tried not to, it didn’t work out that way. I wound up killing thrice.” she says again. 

    She was one of the few here that I heard truth from, her words oscillating throughout my brain, but I understood every syllable. I was tired of the lies I had been hearing, the constant reminder that I was surrounded by those that only said what was wanted to be heard, and not what was needed. “Killing people changes you. If you find allies and watch them die, it’ll change you.” she continues. I feel her touch still against my shoulder, her warmth beginning to bring me out of this oblivion. 

    “But it doesn’t have to destroy you. If it did, I wouldn’t still be trying to get my tributes home, now would I?” When these words leave her mouth, I immediately stop shuttering. My tears stop, and my eyes spark open. 

    My faith had been ripped from my delicate fingers and spat back into my face. She was not who she said she was. She was just as phony as all of the rest of them, here to feed my lies until my imminent destruction. She was here just dripping the poison into my lips as I slumber unknowingly. She groans on, her lies beginning to elevate my head, until I hear her come to a finish. I spin my head toward her, my eyes filled with fury. "Don't lie to me Katelyn. Don't tell me that they didn't destroy you. All you are Katelyn Persimmon is a damn good actress, you have mastered this shield for your true emotions. You have crumbled beneath their power, and here you are spitting lies in my face. I saw you crying Katelyn, you may have these people fooled, but not me." I stand from my seat pushing her hand off of my shoulder. 

    I stare down at her in my fit of rage, she almost had me fooled. The Capitol had already sent in one of their mutts to try and deceive me, but she was nothing. She would not surpass my observance. I was too weak to withstand another fracture, I would have to protect no one but myself, from here on out.

    "You are nothing but the capitols tool." I say, my words spat in a viscous hate. 

Table by the Brilliant Kousei

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

Katelyn recoiled in shock and hurt as the girl’s vitriol spewed forth. A liar? An actress? Desi’s continued spitting venom, suddenly aggravated and harping on about how she’d seen Katelyn crying and that was evidence enough that the Capitol had broken her. Katelyn’s words stuck in her throat; what was she supposed to say to that? She was bewildered.

One moment Desi had been crying into her hands and the next she was ready to tear out her throat. And it hurt. She’d just been trying to give her some reassurance. Some hope. It seemed that nobody wanted to hear it anymore.

She grasped for the words and nearly came up empty. When she spoke, her tone was quiet. Katelyn looked at the floor and tried to steel herself, willing herself not to crumble.“I said it didn’t have to destroy you. I didn’t say it wouldn’t hurt. I told you I’m not okay sometimes. I wasn’t lying.”

No, you weren’t. The little voice in the back of her head said. That doesn’t mean you were being completely honest about your motivations for wanting to help her. Or why you feel guilty. Katelyn rose, attending to the food on the stove, her pleasant demeanor having wilted a tad.

“I’m still paying for my sins. You haven’t even started.” She continued morosely. Sure, she had been crying, but she was at a loss to understand what Desimae thought that signified, how that made her a puppet. She was still trying to help.

The puppet part had been that damn dating show.

“I hope you make it back Desimae. You deserve it.” She said as she turned away from her to flip the bacon. They all do, because Arbor was right, and it’s killing me.“But people rarely get what they deserve.“ She stopped talking after that, heart still stung by Desimae’s harsh words, more so because she had to wonder if the tribute was right.

"I'm a realist, and an optimist,

but I swear to you, I'm not getting over this."



table coding (c) ghosty