blue moon | {kieran/mace}

[dars]

 

★ k i e r a n ★

❝ they must be waiting
for you to come home ❞

I made the right choice, he thought, eyes glued to the television screen. At last, the arena had been revealed, and in only a few short minutes, people would begin to die.

He made the right choice.

The words had been right there on his lips at the reaping, mouth open and ready to say them, fists clenched at his sides for the added encouragement. Upon the last inhale of breath he was going to take before volunteering, he caught his father's gaze. Cold, penetrating, desperate, because Mace knew was Kieran had wanted. Hell, everyone did. Fame, fortune, a name of his own-- all valiant aspirations, indeed.

But, while he scowled back at his father, determined to make his own decisions, he did not volunteer. His choice. He made the right choice.

He would never forget the look of relief on Mace's face after the fact.

"Pass the chips," he called, eyes on Saffron. He noticed she had been acting particularly delicate in the past few days, always handling herself as if she might have ripped if she was not too careful, sitting like she feared impact. Peculiar, he thought, but that must have been a genetic thing for the Lowe family.

For a moment, he imagined Paige's shaking hands, her trembling lips, her scorching words.

("It's complicated," she had once said.)

He hadn't realized until later how right she had been.

Saffron did not pass the chips, so he was standing up to grab them when the anthem began to play.

"It's starting!" He called, reclaiming his seat and pulling Coralee into his lap.

She pointed at the screen as the tributes began to fly in-- gods of war ready to rage against the light; ready to fight for their lives. He made the right decision.

"Look, Bub, it's your friend!" Coralee said, eyes wide with wonder. When it came to friends, Kieran had few. He wouldn't have had to look at the screen to know who she was talking about. Eden Turner was the only constant in his life. Routine; clockwork. Once per year for a month, ever since he had been born, Eden was his oldest, most dear friend.

They had both grown so much.

His father showed up just in time, just as the gong rang and hell broke loose. His heart pounded with the thrill of it. I made the right choice, he reminded himself.

(He hoped Eden had chosen right for herself as well.)

---

The sky in the Capitol was no more real than the ones in the arenas. No stars could be seen, no clouds or hovercrafts: just black and the reflections of the bustling city below it. He had counted so many stars in his lifetime, and now, there would be another joining the its ranks. As soon as it had happened, the moment she had fallen, he had raced to the roof in hopes of seeing her up there. But there was nothing, no one.

Eden Turner had made the wrong choice, but standing under the starless sky, tears falling down his cheeks, he wondered if he had, too.

Mace closed the door behind him, and surely he would know the perfect words to say, but Kieran was not interested in hearing them.

"I thought," he started, voice cracking under the weight of Eden's death, "I thought I might see her up there," Anger had overtaken him, and he was not sure if he was crying from the fury or the heartbreak. Eden is dead, he thought: over and over and over again. The Capitol had killed her. The Games had--

The Games had never disappointed him before, and suddenly the reality hit him like a bag of bricks to the abdomen. He couldn't breathe, his ribs ached from strain, and he couldn't. stop. crying.

"This is what it feels like," he said, eyes still on the starless sky, "To truly lose."

Not moving away from his mother, or watching his father go through a divorce. Not seeing bad things happen to other people, but to actually have those bad things happen to him for a change. And it must have been his fault, for forgetting what could happen in times like these, right?

Fists clenched, his eyes found Mace for the first time. He looked the same as he had on reaping day, eyes wide with worry, lips pushed together too tightly. This was no reaping, but Kieran guessed whatever decision he was about to make would have just as much of an impact on his future.

"I don't know what to do, Dad." He breathed, because honesty was the only thing left for him to give.

If I had been there, I could have protected her, he thought, So, no, I did not make the right choice.

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

♕ m a c e ♕

❝ one more word,
and you won't survive ❞

Mace had watched the Bloodbath with a plate of fried chicken on his lap and not a thought in his head. Over the course of the last few weeks, he'd done the math. All the usual expectations went right out to pasture; they would lose more than twice as many children as they normally did, and for what? Did doubling the deaths somehow double the glory for the Capitol? He ate and he fumed.

His fingers are greasy, his soul is stained, when Eden Turner falls.

He shadows Kieran, numb at first, but by the time he shuts the roof door, his vision is blurry. He hasn't cried in a very long time. He might not be good at it, any more.

"This is what it feels like to truly lose."

Mace approaches slowly, wiping his hands on his sweater and then clearing his eyes. Later. There will be time for himself, for Saffron, for his children, for Lethe later. All they have is time.

"I don't know what to do, Dad."

A few years ago, Mace would have grunted something encouraging, something patently untrue, just to get his son through the grief. It'll be okay or she'll be missed or do you want some ice cream? But his son isn't a child any more; it could have so easily been Mace and Eden on the rooftop, talking about Kieran.

The grease slicks on his cheeks make it too easy for the tears to fall as he grabs Kieran's shoulder and hauls him for a hug. Mace damn near crushes his son. "I don't either," he admits, man to man. But it's too much of a nail in the heart for him to leave it well enough alone. "I'm sorry, son. Maybe - maybe there's somethin' we can do for Lethe."