remember the date // Kirito & Anastasia

[Arrows]

"Daddy, how could you? Why?"

The horror hangs heavy in the shock of her eyes. The words to say fail from her Father's lips falling mute within a mouth sewn shut with grief and guilt. His hands are still bloody, still leaking red from the lives he has taken. In the swirling seas of her tears the ghosts of his past revealed now hold her victim. A hand shaking releases towards her small shivering structure begging for touch, for amnesty from the truth. Contact between Father and Daughter is denied, a scream splitting her lips instead. His voice still suffocating beneath the weight of his sorrowful sins screeches in silence as the blonde of her hair vanishes through the door. 

"I'm sorry..."

It's spoken too late. 

Sweat sticks the sheets of sewn silk to Kirito's side as a room of luxury welcomes him back into reality. Lightly morning rays ripple into the space of silence through slits in the pulled drapes of velour. Shakily he stirs from his mess of matted sheets to the side of the bed which once belonged to a boy terrified of a Quell. Now there is no fear of dying in the arena, but fear of the scars it left on him and of the truth behind each one. The lines left in ridges on his chest by a boy who believed that victors do not come from District Six. The remnants of stitches on his false ears forged by the cruel kisses of mutts. The circle like a mountain above his lower ribs created by the shot of a gun from a man as strong as the trees he was raised in. An entire story of sorrow etched into his existence. An entire story his own adopted daughter does not know. 

A flicked switch surges life into the dark expanse of Kirito's unchanging room here in the Capitol. Upon another activation of some electronic, the windows pull back their drapes exposing the wicked world they call home. Swarming the color coded streets of the Capitol, its citizens chant and call for the coming blood of Day Three fueled by the lives of twenty two remaining tributes. Eleven lost the life of Ping earlier on and now Kirito had worries for how much further Felix could make it. Of all the tributes he has sent into slaughter these were the two Kirito knew least. The thought turns his face solemnly away from the blood thirsting beasts below. 

As though summoned by the detection of movement, Fintermelon in addition to Kirito's usual stylists enter his room without knocking. Long ago Kirito had hated the Capitolite man with hair as orange as a traffic cone. But, through the years of losses and the raising of his children Finter never faded or left. He was always there looking out for his victor. Now Kirito can't help but welcome him as friend. Still though, friends often need reminders of boundaries. 

"Finter we've talked about this. At least knock before barging in."

In flurry of motion both defiant and apologetic Finter gives several small bows. Kirito nearly smiles imagining such movement must be similar to that of birds back home in Eleven. 

"Of course, of course! I simply get so excited I forget. I will work on it, you have my word." His hands suddenly clap together spurring a wave of energy into his squad. "Now let's get you ready!" 

Confusion curls Kirito's eyebrows as he gestures suddenly with his hands for the activity in the room to cease. "Ready for what? I don't have any plans other than taking Ana out for her birthday."

As though shelled with shock Finter raises his hands towards the gold lined ceiling. "Precisely! If you don't think people in the Capitol know that it's your adopted daughter's birthday you are surely mistaken! You two must look your best for the cameras! I won't have my star and his daughter looking anything less than outstanding on a day such as this!"

An argument begins to materialize on the mouth of Kirito but Finter swiftly stops any such attempt. The styling squad swarms the victor in a frenzy. Thanks to experience the ordeal takes far less time than it ever use to. A fresh hair cut with a fine white suit lined in bronze, and then the final detail that nearly makes Kirito's fair skin as white as Snow. His token, the bronze rose pendant Ikaia had bought him just days before the 70th Reaping. For years the artifact of unique importance has sat in a box Kirito's own fingers have been unable to open. He feels his throat tightening in terror. 

"That brings back memories."

Circe walks in from the doorway. As always her skin is unscathed, not an inch of the scene her own axe tore into her spine. Today she wears the same outfit they both shared within the cell of the Training Center. Her eyes almost seem as full of light as they did the moment they bonded in the sharing of their most sacred sin. Two twins brought together by fate, one now a king sitting on a throne of casualties and the other the Queen of the Underworld. Except every meeting she seems so much more alive. 

"Does he hate you for it? For choosing her over him?" 

Her eyes like those of a hunting lioness bear into Kirito's mixed sight of artificial and real. His heart rushes as he swears he can feel the warmth of her breath on his face. 

"Would Jaime have hated you?"

"What?"

The scene snaps. She is replace by Finter with confusion crippling his face. Kirito steps back with his hands shaking in a dangerously quick frequency.  He coughs his throat now suddenly screaming for the relief of water. 

"Nothing. I just need a drink."

Alone in the living room water cold as the ice within in slips down Kirito's throat. They've been so real before, she's never been so alive. Kirito nearly drowns in his river of thoughts until she arrives with his stylists just behind her. Ana stands shining in a white bronze dress matching his own attire. Seeing her so clean brings a smile to his face but also hurt into his heart. She looks so much like a Capitolite, but she is so far from them beneath her skin. 

"So where are we going today birthday girl?"

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

Anastasia Miristioma
Nine Years Old

The blades of grass welcomed the tiny Capitolite into a realm she believed to be peaceful after years of reconditioning. But the green flecks of nature pillowing her cheek was unnaturally foreign to her porcelain skin, almost as if plastic, unlike the organic delicacy within District Eleven’s fields. Eyes of pure blue did not flutter open to the priceless sight of Oasis, and Doe, and her new little Sister, surrounding her in a group nap upon a isolated hill within a breathtaking day of gentle sun rays, and a cool breeze that left kisses in it’s wake. A nightmare smiled at her wickedly in the form of her birth creators’ backyard - cruelly chuckling in her face that all she thought to be true, and better, and perfect, was a mere dream of falsehood.

Panic pulsed the beat of her heart immediately, as she stumbled to her petite scrawny legs in determination to discover what had happened. Had her old family kidnapped her from her savior Kirito? Had the Capitol given her back to the unforgiving monsters? Or had Kirito never even adopted her in the first place, leaving it as a pristine dream she comforted herself in? No, she refused to accept the latter of the options. She’d be saved once more, and return to her precious Doe, and Oasis, and little Sister.

Clumsy steps carry her the couple of paces to the deck's stairs, across the wooden planks of fallacy, to the clear sliding doors of terror memories. A reflection mirrored to the girl she once was, with bruises upon a boney exterior, and sternness of numbness against her features. But it’s wasn’t of the height she was four years ago, nor the innocence’s solely a five year old could pertain. It appeared as though she never left, as if Kirito never adopted her. A malicious Brother she once knew, replaced her reflection on the other side of the glass. Mockery gestured his fingers and features, entertained by her forced location outside that she knew all too well. Tears jolted into her eyes, though refused to collapse in the unruly apathy this plot of land had taught her to have.

“Where’s Doe?!” She screamed, pressing her fears from the tips of her thoughts. Fingers tightened into fists, determined to receive her answer in one way or the other. But when the sight of her half Brother’s father shined a darkness behind the glass, the fierceness ripped from her like a mere exhale of a breath. Automatically she stumbled back in flight mode; away from the sliding door, back across the wooden planks, towards the stairs to nowhere. And just as her heal collapsed to nothing, miscalculating when the stairs would breach behind her, just as she began to fall…

~ ~ ~

It’s an actual pillow that softly greets her into the true reality. Gentle sheets cocoon her below, though the ones above were kicked aside in her anxiety of a dream. “Good morning birthday Girl!” It’s not her Doe that’s greeting her however, but rather the chipper Finter in his obnoxious excitement for life. “Well come on then, your Father’s already ready for you special day! It’s time to get you looking gorgeous!” Slight disapproval relishes a grin across his face that she’s only just now awakening, though it doesn’t dim his natural ecstasy even slimly. The crust of sleep can’t even be removed from the corners of her eyes before she’s being rushed to her most dreadful activity.

There’s an urge to bite the hand that seeks to paint her face, that inhumanly swaddles her back to a memory when a Stranger tallied her exterior in the task of recording all for potential families who may seek to adopt her. But it wasn’t a nauseating family who brought her in, it was her Doe who lived far away from here - and doesn’t resemble a horrid capitol doll whatsoever. He did, however, teach her not to bite though. A clenched jaw resists the craving. Despite Doe truly being from the land he originated from, sometimes they both had to play pretend. That didn’t mean she’d accept it all willing of course.

Cloth rips from the fingers who have been well nourished after the rescue four years past. A grin curls across Ana’s cheeks tauntingly, proud of her actions of destroying the dress Finter wishes to see her in. “My Capitol baby, how could you!” A tisk tisk snaps from his tongue, though he knows the tiny girl all too well - and a duplicate dress is revealed a second later. Eyebrows arch in fume upon Ana’s expression, insulted by both Finter’s nickname for her, and his desire to manipulate her appearance in a way she was not.

One side finally breaches victory, as she caves and changes - though she wins as well, as she storms from the room immediately following, refusing any paint upon her features. “Ana, no! Not yet! You’re not ready!” Finter tempts to demand, though pertains no ability to exhibit power even if he tried.

“I don’t care! I want Doe!” Even the nine year old delivers more strength within her voice, as she booms both verbally and physically to conclude the charade to instead be with her Savior. Feet stomp the distance to where she truly wants to be, next to the one person who understands her here. And at least he greets her with a smile.

Instantly the anger fades entirely from her face, with her return to Kirito. Though the emotions from her disapproval continue to flame within her youthful thoughts. He even unknowingly tames her distaste however, with the placement of power to her to choose today’s plans - which sparks an immediate response. Eyes pierce to the stylist in warning of her upcoming words. “Tell Finter to fu…” The cursing language cuts immediately when her vision gazes back to Kirito. “He’s trying to make me look like a capitol hoe, but I’m not one anymore!” Of course not all the inappropriate words are removed from her vocabulary, though they usually are. After the nightmare, and Finter’s innocent desires to portray fake beauty upon her, there’s only so much she can hold back. And still she quickly regrets the slip, the guilt gliding upon her face within seconds.

“I wanna go back home, and for none of us to ever come back here again.” She whispers just loud enough for Kirito to hear, before retrieving to his side for a hug that she’s wanted since waking up. If it wasn’t for him having to travel here, and her desire to never leave his side, she’d have never agreed to venturing to this facade of a realm. But he had to be here, and she hated to wave him goodbye. There would be no escape from these streets of horror until permitted, and that surely wouldn’t be today. “Can we put on real clothes, and just us go to the park, Doe?” Quietly requests after her miniature tantrum, while her arms refuse to budge from around him as if someone may yank her back into the nightmare again if she let go.

[Arrows]

Indifference coupled by strength stems from Ana's lips. From the beginning she has beamed with the brilliance of a rose powerful in its protection of thorns. Having to slowly find a safe way through her shield of living danger was one of Kirito and Oasis' hardest challenges. Alas one day they did reach her unquestionably flowered heart of blooming beauty. The world wrapped in wickedness forced her to forge walls, slowly deconstructing such walls of nearly impenetrable platinum has been no easy feat. And to this day the process still continues on with her nine year old self. 

While words of denial drip from the birthday girl's lips, closer they edge to cursing. This unlucky trait of foul language was one she had acquired within the confine of her Capitol cell. Sadly it stuck very securely to her vernacular. However, over the years of lessons in language, her tongue has begun to cease the production of certain words with corrupt connotations. Even in this moment although rage clearly wages in the storming seas of her eyes, her lips latch shut instead of presenting the concluding ..ck of a particularly potent word for her to know. Yet despite this victory, a small stumble shows itself in her next sentence causing a slight downturn of Kirito's mouth for a moment. 

"Ana, thank you for stopping before saying the end of that first word," Her eyes ignite in a ripple of realization as he reveals his notice of it, "But we don't use the word h.o.e either, remember? Words like that can really hurt people's feelings, including Finter's."

Kirito takes Ana's small shoulders framed in the golden grace of her hair as he turns her towards the styling team. 

"Now say you're sorry, and mean it. Or else we will be staying here for your brithday." Kirito leans down just outside of Ana's right ear before whispering, "And that wouldn't be very fun now would it?"

As though cold water has been sent shooting down her spine Ana stands up straighter and swiftly apologies. The entire scene fuels the fires of hope in Kirito's chest. Parenting is a taxing job, yet undoubtedly fulfilling in moments such as this. However, while watching his daughter his ears pick up the sound of the Television speakers. Normally he would drown out the din of the games' commentary, but one name acquires all of his attention. 

"One thing to remember is that Day Three has been a day where we have lost many highly adored tributes in the past, for instance if you recall Rhyme Morales died on this very day nine years ago, as well as..."

Now the same cold compression of ice Ana felt moments ago seeps through Kirito's skin. Never before had he made the connection that Ana's birthday was the same day that she, that Rhyme, had died. Kirito's heart beat heaves into sonic speed as his eyes widen losing himself into the harsh hell of his memories. He can hear their voices again with crystal clarity. He can see the bloody train car striped with her streaks of red. He can smell the metals mixing between the iron of her blood and the steel of her chariot to the Underworld. 

"Do I really mean that little to you that you wouldn't realize it sooner?"

She came. Her blue eyes beaming not with death, but a fountain of life. Her skin is not white drained of its color, but fully flourishing without a scar to ruin its softness. Her hair is mesmerizing, framing her face's beauty in a halo of blonde vines. And what is most unsettling by Rhyme Morale's presence crouching next to Ana, is the fact that as she stands and struts over to Kirito, he feels her touch as her hand clasps around his wrist. 

"Don't you dare forget me Kirito Miristioma, I matter enough to not be forgotten." Her eyes angle towards Ana while Kirito's body begins to visibly shake, "Remember me every time you look at her, funny how she is so similar to me. Isn't it?"

Suddenly the pressure of her hand is gone as Kirito crumples clearly shaken into a nearby chair. Surprised by the sight Finter rushes to his side. Panic paints the Capitolite's eyes and taints the quick and quiet murmurs of the styling squad. Kirito rubs his face quickly with his palms before standing again, praying that his mind provides leniency just for the rest of this day. He has no right ruining this day for Ana. 

"Are you o..."

"I'm fine, just a spell."

Kirito says cutting off Finter which he rarely ever does. Instead of answering the urge to apologize, Kirito moves towards Ana placing a fresh smile on his face. 

"Now, now, we have to come here because I have work here sometimes. And we have to leave these clothes on because Finter worked so hard on them, but we can definently go to the park. And after..."

He gives her a small wink.

"Ice cream. Sound good?"

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

Anastasia Miristioma
Nine Years Old

Disappointment unravels from the creases of her Doe’s lips arching in a downward spiral in reaction to her unfortunate slip of foul language. Punishment to the highest degree simply by witnessing such an expression across his features, and knowing it was her to cause such. The anger previously held releases from the small girl as if a mere exhale of a breath, leaving guilt to swiftly take it’s place. Harsh consequences refuted to ever exhibit from her new guardians of her Doe and Oasis. Violent touches never scarred her skin due to their impatience, nor did screams ever curl from their vocals in her directions. They were certainly not the previous parents she left behind in this concrete facade of a civilization.

Calm lectures have parented her since she first collided into Kirito exactly four year ago, within this very city she despises. Desperation would wrinkle their brows in strive to mend her from her past trauma that sculpted her inappropriate speech and demeanor, yet they’d still solely relief a sigh and attempt for an understanding from her on right and wrong. Hideous words would shout from her core, her tantrums would rattle the entire house, and silence would overcome her for days at a time - though still they’d never give up on her. Solely stern sweetness informed her of what was permitted and not, and caring arms were always on wait in need to coddle her back to her new improved reality.

So when disapproval strikes upon Kirito’s features, guilt drowns the newly nine year old far more then fear of a brutal repercussion ever could. Gratitude for halting one improper word comments from his parenting first; though in the expectation of what’s to come, the appreciation doesn’t rid of her self disappointment in her. And sure enough the correction of her ugly mistake slithers to existence next, deepening her remorse even more so. Hardness drains from her expression, her stare slipping to the floor as the corners of her lips practically do. For the slimmest second there’s an instinct to retaliate her rage against the Stylist, to shout at him to regain her Doe’s heart - as her birth Mother would yell at her simply to return to her Husband’s good side. But the moment her Doe’s fingers gently landed upon her shoulders, the urge dissipates as quickly as it lingered. Her Doe and Oasis had taught her better then that.

Crystal blue eyes of Ana’s are unable to reach the likes of Finter’s, too ashamed to bet met by her words’ victim. Comprehension couldn’t come to terms of why he desires too appear the way he does, or to mask others with so much paint they scarcely resemble their true forms. But she is fully capable of relating to the pain her voice had carved him with. “I’m sorry Finter… I don’t wanna hurt your feelings, I shouldn’t had said that. It was not nice.” Genuine regret unfolds from across her tongue in her force to address her mistake. Surely there’s an urge to express that his poor taste in fashion isn’t his fault, how that’s simply how he was raised, as she was for the first five years of her life to curse - but as her vision pierces over to Kirito in search for approval, fear strikes into her heart like a cold blade causing her to forget everything else.

All that’s registered is her Doe sinking into a chair, color drained from his face, and Finter stumbling to his side. Reassurance coils from his lips, while the fear is still embedded in all. A few times Ana had endured viewing this event, but every time she was swept away with little to no explanation. Was it simply another one of those occurrences, and had she caused such by disappointing him further in her apology? The worry may never be met as her thoughts are pushed aside for concern solely to be upon her Guardian’s stability and the words to curl past his throat next.

Explanation breaches in reasons for their visit to this cruel location, an explanation she knew already though simply couldn’t accept - along with the dreadful news that their capitol attire had to remain upon them. But with the agreement in adventuring to the park, she pushes those undesired facts aside as well. And with the inclusion of ice cream a massive grin even curls across her round cheeks in replacement of the previous frown. Long blonde locks bob up and down frantically in satisfaction to this plan and compromise to accept the unwelcoming aspects of it.

There’s an immediate impulse to capture her Doe’s hand and enforce an instantaneous journey to their endeavors, until she recalls the events that happened not even minutes ago. Vision stares at him in both hesitation and worry. “You sure you otay? We don’t have to go out if you not feeling well.” She assures in willingness to follow her words, even if it wasn’t preferred. “That wouldn’t be very fun now would it? But health come first.” Repeats, of words she’s heard a plethora of times before by both Doe and Oasis, concludes her offer before she awaits impatiently for his response.