phantom expressions // aurora & severus

[Arrows]

The soft steel of the shimmering silver train whirs sweet symphonies of sophistication. A room entangled in elegance and heavy with the weight of luxury welcomes the weary blonde boy, but instead he is drawn to the song of the machine. His head presses against the cool kiss of a wall listening to the pistons reverberate and the gears grind in tandem. Electricity is the maestro to this concerto of complexity and guides it beautifully without a misplaced spark. This chariot of death tainted in lost souls hides inside a shell crafted by the hands of brilliance. Severus wishes simply to toy with the engine and examine the wheels, but he is painfully aware of his true purpose as one of the newest sacrificial souls. 

Steps lead Severus away from the wall and into a small tray of colorful assortments. His hands hastily fall into a flurry matching the sudden storming of his heart. Beads of sweat begin to trickle down the crevices of Severus' cheeks all while red wells within them. Embarrassment blemishes his youthful appearance with a familiar stamp of disbelief, clumsiness has always found itself as close to him as his shadow. Much to Severus' dismay footsteps flow from a nearby room and soon another is entirely cleaning up the mess of broken bottles. Severus insists on helping only to be met with silent head shakes from the Capitol worker. Severus feels his skin trickle with chills, he's never met an avox before but has heard countless stories. The encounter sets him into silence and a nearby chair.

Outside trees as red as the sinking sun and as gold as newly discovered amber flourish in a parade of natural beauty. The drifting leaves tilting towards the forest floor bring memories upon their breeze. Young and full of impish impulses a young Severus sits atop a swaying branch wrapped in the same colors as the present day. His lips purse a subtle song carried on a whistle's tune while his pencil plays on its pad of paper. Below a distraught voice calls out for the youthful apparition but he does not answer, he sits in silence sewn to the movements of his mind. Then the branch snaps. 

Fingers trace over the scars still marking the once broken arm. To this day, Severus can recall the pain that pierced his mind before being drowned in a river of adrenaline. The corners of his front teeth find the smooth surface of his quivering lower lip, the reaction of Severus' thought of the pain to come. 

Wind rustles the blonde valleys of Severus' hair turning the blue lagoons of his eyes towards the nearest doors. Aurora, as he remembers from the calling of her name, seems to have found the main area as well. Instinctively introversion drops Severus' stare and brings his pen to his pad of papers. His teeth grind on what to say to another who rides aboard a phantom train towards the same shadowy shore. Instead he sketches, not a design but a rarity, a portrait. 

While shading the final features, Severus makes certain to avoid stealing as many glances as possible from his quiet place in the corner. In life she is more vibrant embraced by the hues of vitality where as on paper she is pretty but tied to the capabilities of a single pencil. Severus' teeth bite into the pink cushion of his eraser in one last little quirk of worry before speaking. His hand reaches out with the paper. 

"It would look much better with color but, here."

It's a small gesture, a simple step, but at least it's something in a world filled with a common sense of nothingness.

[Stare]

i can see your years in my reflection
dents and cracks embedded in my skin
they will bloom in fireworks and fury
for all the times i didn't let you in

As the world flashes by in a blur of silver and muted hues, she presses her forehead into the glass and tries to breathe. Her lungs are too small, each inhale threatening to collapse her into a shaking, sobbing mess on the floor. She ignores the urge, squeezing her eyes shut and leaning into the cold glass until she's able to gasp in a semi-steady breath. Then another. Gradually the panic eases its way into numbness and she's able to pull away, glancing around the empty car anxiously. She needs a distraction, another human presence.

Misery loves company.

She knows it's dangerous to grow attached to her district partner, especially one so young, but as she enters through the doorway into the car he's in she can't help but feel some of the tension in her neck release. He reminds her of herself before her mother's diagnosis, full of pretty glass dreams. Ripred knows she has too many dying people in her life and certainly doesn't need another one, especially one as young and gentle as him, but when he hands her a drawing of her she can't help the cracks he makes in her defenses.

"This is wonderful." She's not lying. Her talents have always been tied to medicine, sciences, healing. Creativity and artistry are always slightly beyond her grasp. Sometimes, between shifts or during a break, she would ask Alex to sketch for her and watch over her shoulder. Alex didn't draw much these days, though. She said it made her feel too much like Danny. "I'm sorry, I don't have anything for you. I'm rotten at drawing."

She pauses, glancing out the window and trying to catch glimpses of the sun. How much longer does she have to feel its warmth? In a week will it be falling on her cold, unfeeling flesh? Will she already be six feet under? The claustrophobic thought ties her stomach in anxious knots and she tries desperately to numb the feeling, turning her attention back to Severus. He's younger than her and yet seems less afraid. He is a volunteer, after all.

"What you did was really brave. Your family must be so proud."

Or heartbroken. Or devastated. Or shattered. But she doesn't want to think about that, because if she does she has to think about her mother spilling pills and water all over the floor without anyone there to help clean it up. The symptoms will only get worse without the medication. She knows what attachment feels like, has cried over holding the hands of dying strangers and wondered how much more it will hurt when it's someone she loves, and she knows her rule should be to fend for herself until the very end.

And yet, as she forces a smile, she realizes he's already becoming an exception.

[lyrics: dents, the acorn]