wake up your saints // { cedar + red | train }

[aya]

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i didn't have to explain to her that i wasn't dead
she sat me down and lit some colored candles over my head

It's all smaller than it is in his memory. Cedar Halt stopped tagging along at eleven, and at seventeen everything on the train is a strange dream. His hands are too big. The ceiling is too low. Why doesn't he need to reach up for handles on the compartment doors? They slide open too easily, don't require the force he applies to him, slam hard into the frame. He might even be able to break them now — it's uncanny. Can he?

He's served eight-year-old Cedar's favorite for dinner: tender venison nuggets, breaded and butter-fried, served over a bed of egg noodles and smothered in a tangy lemon-wine reduction. He didn't think to request it, and yet it's set down in front of him anyway. The meal is dead silent. His dad stares at the bottle of chardonnay that sits on the table between them like asking it a question, to which the Halt boy shrugs and pours himself half a glass before setting the bottle down closer to the victor. Cedar doesn't drink, but if ever there were a special occasion...

Dinner ends. Dessert follows and then ends, too.

Instead roping someone into a game of go fish or bridge or rummy, he plays solitaire until just about everyone is off to bed. Victors, escorts, tributes, staff — it used to be easier into talking them into lighthearted distraction. It's different, he supposes, when the thing they need distraction from is him. Black, red, black, red, black... He lays his heart on the table. Red.

"Want to play something?" he offers, glancing over at the girl who's come with them. "I always passed the train rides like this. Gingerbread — the old escort, if you remember her, she retired at least a decade ago — taught me poker. She went easy on me when we played for candy, but as soon we switched to quarters she took me for all I was worth." He smiles (sadly, fondly) and sweeps the pile of cards in front of him into a stack.

"It's a long ride to the Capitol." When he was little, the distance that lay District Twelve and the silver city seemed to span to infinity. "Or at least, it used to feel like it was." He's taller now, which means the miles are shorter.

Cedar riffles the cards, shuffling the stack, then deals out two pairs of hole cards and flips three face up in the middle. "Ever play District Ten Hold 'Em?"

wake up your saints — the national

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[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

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Reality of the matter at hand refutes to set in, though it’s not denial nor numbness overtaking such a void. Oncoming death licks upon the tip of my tongue, while it’s not the worst flavor ever tasted before. Often chaotic thoughts swirl within a whirlwind of my mind during a dangerous journey, but now it’s oddly enough a comforting acceptance lifting years of weight from my chest. Fear of the cards being dealt should panic the pulse of my heart, an almost certain death tattooed upon my fate from the face of my district partner with a name that all upon this train will surely want to save first. Chances of seeing my future niece or nephew dwindled the moment my name was announced, and even further with his own. Hardship was destined upon not only me but Mycelium as well, yet it’s not a fact overtaking me.

An eerie silence reigns the likes of my first meal away from home, an awkward aroma wafting amongst the delicious delectables. Not even a facade confidence seems to be structuring any speeches of hope, sealed lips quieting everyone all around. The breath of my existence is being dangled beyond repair, but it’s also guaranteeing a departure from my life of struggles. A smile doesn’t frame my lips between the gentle bites of my meal, while the corners of my eyes do softly grin.

The peace of quiet becomes more so peace with the slow exit of person after person from the cart of tense relaxation. A lack of words coaxed me as it often does, a pristine opportunity to eavesdrop on others, while it was simply a soft ‘excuse me’ here, and an attempt at a joke there that sought to break the unease. Until finally it’s solely him and I whom doesn’t venture off to their sleeping chamber. The peace actually settles, while the silence is finally broken by his words.

Diverting from his solo game of cards, he offers for me to join him. Interest rattles my brain, while I force my expression to not alter from its blankness. A petite grin does lift the corners of my lips, relieved from the pressure that everyone seemed to carry - as if words were a dangerous risk to them.

But Cedar’s not fearful of his words, wandering to a memory of when he’d escape to the Capitol in the past - and would play poker with the escort who’s long retired. My eyes diverge from staring into the window of night to gaze his way, to get a glimpse of the bittersweet smile to unravel upon his expression. Once my Sister and I had a client who taught us poker, informing me of the poker face I apparently have while in truth is was purely me being unamused. With Cedar however, amusement does indeed ruffle me - might as well get to know the person I may very well be dying with.

A stand breaches me from my seat, at the window that’s long gone from shinning a view, and to another that’s before my new competitor. “I’m guessing she didn’t take you for all your worth, being a victor’s kid you’re probably worth a lot.” A tint of humor brushes through my tone, as I stare at the card placement he’s setup. “Just not enough for the Capitol to not claim you for their game… No offense, it’s not like any of us are.” Mycelium did always warn me that my comedy was a bit too dark for the masses.

‘You better start screwing the right people to stay alive,’ she also warned of. It was a card I didn’t want to play, while with the hand I now have - I might have to. Subtly my eyes graze across Cedar in a swift motion, wondering if he’s one of the right people my sister was implying of.

A gentle gulp slithers down my throat. Staying alive became our specialty since birth, but now that she’s not by my side I feel lost. “I haven’t played anything but poker before. Mind teaching me?” Because hopefully he knows the way, and at the very worst he’s settled the atmosphere at least.

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{Beautiful Table made by the Amazing Arrows <3}

[aya]

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you're right, it's a living, but you're wrong for the life
you know you never should've listened to my father's advice

"I'm guessing she didn't take you for all you're worth," Red points out, joining him at the table. "Being a victor's kid you're probably worth a lot." He frowns slightly, sheepish about the truth of it. A fistful of quarters meant so little to the five-year-old whose father was paid a handsome pity-pension each month. To most of his classmates, the coins would constitute a small treasure.

"Just not enough for the Capitol not to claim you for their game..." Something about hearing his circumstances stated aloud, blunt and honest, elicits an involuntary snort. "No offense, it's not like any of us are."

He shrugs. "None taken. At least I don't have to wonder if I'm just unlucky, or if someone who loves me did something to piss them off." He knows for a fact that this was his fate.

Cedar wonders if that's an observation worth voicing, but drops it when Red professes to not know anything but poker. "That's perfect," he lays two cards face down in the center between them, "Hold'em is poker. It's a variant that they play in Ten. Kieran taught me." Growing up, the boy had been the closest thing he'd had to an older brother. When he'd made the permanent move to live with Mace and the big clan of Emberstatts, they slowly fell out of touch. He kicks himself for letting that happen — he still never called to congratulate Kieran on the baby.

"Those two —" he points at the pair of face-down cards sitting in front of his partner "— are yours. These two —" he peeks at the cards in front of him "— are mine. And we share the ones in the middle. You can discard one or both of your cards and take two more from the deck if you want. The goal is the same: make the best hand possible with what you're dealt." In that regard, it's no different from the game they're distracting themselves from.

"I'm nervous," he admits, peeking at his cards again. "It's not like they're going to let me win." His father is Arbor Halt, who secured for himself a lifetime of animosity from the powers that be the moment the crown had touched his head — to say nothing of the way he'd cemented that status in the years that followed. His mentor is — ostensibly — Nico Thorne, who has spent less time in the Capitol than Cedar himself, given that his victory was just the year prior. "I have to try, but —" I can't give up from the outset, not with dad and everyone watching, hoping "— I'm worried about whatever they pick out for me. I hope it doesn't hurt too bad." He exchanges his two of clubs, but comes up with the six of hearts — no better or worse than what he started with.

wake up your saints — the national

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[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

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A nonchalant certainty breaches from the one ahead of me, a shrug rolling his shoulders and all. Without a flinch of doubt, he knows that his name wasn’t called to the fence of death due to unluckiness or consequences of a loved one upsetting the Capitol. The latter of his statement sounds of logic, while the beginning does not - it seems any name called is that of unluckiness. But the dread of that topic is cut by the purpose of our gathering, a distraction from that very misfortune with an innocent game of cards.

The concept of the game chosen is explained to be just as poker, and casually he shares of the origin of him learning it first - a tint of sorrow weaving through his tone. Almost seems that he’s speaking once more of another person that’s now absent from his life, while the name Kieran doesn’t ring of familiarity. But before my nosey thoughts can dissect silently of whom it may be, the concept of this version is further explained. Appears to be just a smaller version of poker, while he clarifies which two belong to myself and which to him. One of my eyebrows raise, my bottom lip pierced between my teeth in temptation to deliver a snarky comment. But he continues in explaining, and I constrain being too much too soon.

Round one begins just like that, while he glances beyond his cards with an admission of being nervous. The level of my head tilts to the side in confusion, as he speaks further on knowing how they aren’t going to allow him to win. Subtly my lips go ajar, again tempted by a devious comeback that I won’t let him win - but again I tone my sarcasm down to not overbear a person I’ve just met. Plus seriousness is obviously contorting his pitch, a hint of fear laced secretly within it sounds. Despite a Victor raising him, he’s just as scared as anyone would be… as I am.

He even bluntly states his worry on what they’ll pick out for him, hoping it doesn’t hurt too badly - and I’m uncertain if he’s referring to the bulk of it, or the potential end of it. He discards both of his cards and replaces them with two from the deck, while his features are too monotoned for me to assume his hold.

Finally I gaze at my own, nothing much fortunes me in my hand - just a mere queen of hearts and ten of spades. The ten is mindless discarded, for a jack of clubs to replace it. Not terrible perhaps, while I haven’t played enough to truly know. And my face remains unmoved in my uncertainty. Instead I concentrate on the words my new district partner just confessed to.

“What do you mean, pick out for you?” For once I don’t attempt to close off my lack of not fully understand, my eyes piercing across to him from above my cards. “Sure the Game Makers have a lot of control over what happens. But just as no one can let you win, no one can make you lose either? Especially since you weren’t chosen because the Capitol has a vendetta against your Father or something, like you said.” A shrug now rolls my own shoulders, eyes studying Cedar with vast curiosity. “If you don’t want it to hurt too bad, don’t let it.” Is stated matter-of-factly, as if we actually had any control. But when you’ve been raised with absolutely none, you learn to grasp some even where there is none.

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{Beautiful Table made by the Amazing Arrows <3}