foreign waters [Wish/Enzo/Poria]

[wimdy]

I don’t think my hands have stopped shaking since the train arrived. This place, the Capitol, is so foreign, with its gleaming windows and too-bright smiles framed in technicolor. How many children have come before me to die not long after seeing these halls, when I have been invited for tea? My sweater is worn, and the button-up underneath is missing three buttons and has spattered brown stains across the front after years of working down by the pier, and I am making my way to sit at an immaculate table (Amaryllis, what does an Amaryllis look like?) with people who’ll be dressed in neat suits and fashionable dresses. I am a foreigner in a foreign place, and I am alone here, just like Fitz, just like Noah. A name is spelled out in neat, calligraphic letters, looking impossibly delicate and gentle for the boy who comes to sit before it, for me with my shoes so worn I know they’ll bust any day. The rest of the table is empty, for now, as more people filter into the hall and find their seats with pleasant smiles and newfound friends, allies, survival vests in the water. I keep my eyes down, tracing a name that is mine with hands that do not match, and wonder why mama thought in her moment of lucidity why this would be a good opportunity for me. More importantly, I wonder why I accepted. My hands don’t stop shaking.

244

[sbeeg]

Tributes & Tokens

After a few glasses of champagne, Poria Rain's nerves melted away. She was determined to be her usual bubbly self, and return to her main goal of being here. To stalk out some interesting people.

She walked between the tables making notes of who sat where, and when she should swoop in to say hi. That is until she found a young man sitting almost entirely alone. He had something about his face, something familiar. Poria went through her mental tribute database until she found a hit.


A Ripley.

She slid into the chair next to him, gently putting a hand on his knee.

"Is it your first time in the Capitol, young man?" she asked, batting her fake snowflake laden lashes at him.

[Tom]

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The capitol was cold in everything. Cold hearts, cold eyes, and fake smiles lined their faces. Unfamiliar steps and unfamiliar places. Nevah wasn't there. Newt wasn't there. No Everett or Nemo to back him up. Alone and on his own to see the place that Jay, Mason, and Someith had seen before him. Glittering people that shake hands and ask questions. The Krearns were asked about by a few people. Mostly Someith as Jay and Mason died too soon to remember. Though, he approaches the tables that a capitolite had set up for them. Amaryllis was name, but everything was foreign to him. Flowers weren't meant for boys in a district of water. They only knew of seashells and sand. Blood and careers venturing from their sea to a lost ocean of glam.

The table contains two others who he was not going to speak to yet, as he sits down next to the male that he had seen on the train with him. A familiar face among unfamiliar things as he holds himself steady. His name glittering against paper as he moves to look at the pastries and tea that sits in front of them. He doesn't move. He doesn't breath, until the capitolite on the other side speaks up in a question to the familiar and unfamiliar boy.

"Is it your first time in the Capitol, young man?"

A first for both of them probably as he reaches over and grabs a small pastry that he doesn't know and lightly takes a bite from it. He's listening, but not interacting. Not yet at least. Nevah would have rolled her eyes. Everett would have politely joined in. Newt would have avoided it all together. He's going to watch it carefully, just in case the familiar boy needed saving.

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[wimdy]

A hand on my knee stills me in the storm that rages all around in swooping waves of white calla lilies and idle chatter so loud it puts the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore to shame. I follow the delicate fingers up, up, up until I meet curious, keen eyes staring from beneath carefully placed snowflakes. Her voice drips sugar sweet across the distance, and I find myself wondering just how much candy one has to eat to rot you from the inside out. “… Yes. When else would I have had the honor?” I reply, voice quiet but steady against the din. I can feel the blush that spreads across my cheeks as I take stock of what I said. Perhaps I should learn to hold my tongue… A small, uncertain smile curls across my lips for just a moment before break eye contact and look back down at my hands, worrying the name card with my fingers again, tearing tiny notches into the sides. I have played the small, easy target for so many years that I don’t know how to turn it off, turn down my instinct to reply with uneasy sarcasm to provoke a reaction. He wouldn’t hurt mama if he could take it out on me. Here, though, I shouldn’t be needling at people who could draw their purse strings tight around my throat. The chair on the other side of me pulls out, and I glance up to catch a familiar face from home. Enzo Krearns. I don’t think we’ve ever spoken, but he’s always around and I’m always informed. It’s easier to play the game when you know all the cards.

281

[sbeeg]

Tributes & Tokens

Poria lets out a loud laugh, her hand slapping on the boy's knee. Quick wit, she liked that.

Her eyes slide over to the other boy at the table and yet again her sense pick up on details. Bone structure, the shape of the nose.

Krearns and a Ripley.

Her entire body twitched.

"What a couple of famous boys here," she said, moving her gaze over the two of them. "You know I am a very big fan."

She gave them both a wink.

[Tom]

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“… Yes. When else would I have had the honor?”

A laugh threatens to come out at the words, but instead he holds himself stern, taking little bites from the pastry in his hand. Eyes glancing from one to the other. The boy, who he now could see was Wish, a familiar face that he's seen around. No specific place comes to mind, but he knew of him. Most people in District Four knew of someone. Enzo just happened to remember this boy's name because Wish was a weird name for anyone to have. Then the capitolite woman notices him and probably the Krearns features that litter across his skin. A gentle glance as the pastry in his mouth crumbles again. Swallowing the chunk that resided in his mouth, he listens to her words.

"What a couple of famous boys here," Famous in capitol standards, that was for sure. "You know I am a very big fan." A fan of the Krearns and whatever relative that was Wish's. Probably Ripley if he had to guess. It didn't matter either way. The pressure of carrying a name meant nothing to Enzo. He's learned long ago that carrying the Krearns name wasn't what he wanted to do. Family seemed to be more important to him, even if his brothers disagreed. A smile as he puts down the pastry and the capitolite woman winks at the both of them.

"Good for you, Miss? I'm quite a fan of my family too."

Adding the fact that he would never want to see them fight to death was left unsaid because after all, it was a privilege to see the capitol without being forced to survive.

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[wimdy]

I bite down on my tongue, the action forcing my mouth into a quick, disgruntled pucker before I find the strength to fake peace again. A smile is not within the realm of possibility, though. A couple of famous boys, that’s all we are here. I haven’t spoken to my cousins since I was a child, but still, they are the most important part about me now that I’m in the Capitol. Nino has the decency to nod, but Jude won’t even look at me if we pass by each other in the street. And yet, this woman looks at me and sees Fitz, sees Noah, sees potential for another family tragedy to play out across the grand stage of the Capitol. Enzo’s kind enough, returning her words with an echoed appreciation for his family, but my family has never done a thing for me. Jude could die tomorrow and I wouldn’t know, probably wouldn’t go to the funeral. Whereas family means everything to Enzo, the only family I have is my mother. “My mother is the only family I’ve got, ma’am,” I say, reaching out snag one of the tea sandwiches, not bothering to check what it is before slipping it into my mouth. I try not to let the discomfort settle upon my shoulders, but I can feel myself go a little stiff as I realize the woman’s hand still rests on my knee. We’re not dignitaries; we’re playthings. Just like always.

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