Leave It All Behind // Embryze

[pthalorarity]

Julian Bryze

The deep thunk of muscle on metal echoed throughout the empty training center as Julian Bryze furiously thrust his way across a high set of monkey bars. As he reached the end, he propelled himself forward in a giant arc toward the hard floor and landed solidly in a squatting stance before sprinting back to the thick rope climbing net that led up to the bars. It was an exhaustive, yet mindless cycle to keep his mind off yet another failed tribute and the repercussions that came from his youthfully foolish deal with the president of Panem. Despite the long since disbanded benefits of splitting his time between Districts to be with his now ex husband, President Snow was quick to remind Julian that it was his choice to begin with, and the terms of their agreement would remain intact indefinitely.

”Perhaps if you could at last produce another victor…” President Snow’s empty promise slithered ominously throughout Julian’s thoughts. He knew better by now than to trust any offer that came from that man though, and he sure as hell wasn’t willing to step out of line and risk any harm coming to Juliet. She was all he had left.

However, that’s not to say a District 2 victory wouldn’t perhaps remove at least a little pressure from the Capitol’s oppressive grasp, but he’d lost any hope of that when his tributes procured such measly training scores. Hell, it had been years now since he’d had any successors he’d been truly optimistic about, but the cycle and his ceaseless frustration would continue regardless. As would the white roses accompanied by the sickly perfumed stationary containing invitations—no, summons to the various men and women of the Capitol pining for the company of the surly, yet ever publicly poised victor.

In typical fashion, he’d received his first rose of the trip nearly within the hour of his female tribute’s untimely falling. You’d think he’d be accustomed to such swift retribution by now, but his explosive temper never yielded. He’d smashed his fist swiftly through a nearby glass table, with a deep, strained yell resonating from the hollows of his chest. Leaving the avox whom delivered Snow’s message to clean up his mess, he stormed directly from his apartment to the training center, blatantly ignoring the handful of his peers he’d passed along the way as they caught glimpses of his red-soaked hand. Blinded, in typical Julian fashion, by his anger, he made a beeline for the center’s intricate obstacle course and continued looping through the exhaustive upper body section, throwing in additional push-ups and pull-ups as he saw fit, until the burning of his muscles drew enough focus to override his inner turmoil.

With his hands slippery with sweat and blood, and post-adrenaline rush fatigue setting in, Julian’s grasp faltered on the final bar. He fell hard and heavy onto his left shoulder, knowing immediately that his bruise would be deep. ”Good,” he thought bitterly. At least that was one imperfection the stylists wouldn’t be able to conceal for that evening’s escort. Sure, Julian would put on face and uphold his part of the deal like the good show pony he’d been bred to be, but at least there was a small sense of satisfaction when his buyers were forced quiet glimpses of the monster beneath.

Slowly, Julian sat up. He winced slightly as he roughly removed his shirt, using it to wipe down his torso and still bleeding hand before throwing it across the gym floor into a rack of spears. As the clamor of the rattling spears subsided, Julian’s ears perked at the unmistakable creak of the heavy training center doors. Uncaring of whoever’s footfalls reverberated around him, Julian leaned back, gazing dead-eyed into the harsh lighting above as his bare chest rose and fell with deep, full breaths.

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

It doesn't hurt me.
Do you want to feel how it feels?
Do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me?
Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making?
You, it's you and me.

He knew where to find Julian, even if the other Victor didn't keep a strict schedule. It wasn't that Mace intended to track him. He just noticed. Out of the corner of his eye, he would see Julian ascending the elevator after an exhausting work out, or standing aside as his tributes trained, or quietly - but not so discreetly - leaving the Training Center for his other work. He noticed.

He tried not to.

More than ever, he didn't know where he stood the the Sixtieth Victor. If things had been complicated before, it seemed every passing year just knotted their relationship - friends, lovers, husbands, parents, exes - ever more tightly. He thought about apologizing for wanting them to be more traditional (for "putting them in a box" as Regalia would say) but he could not. It was what he wanted - what he still craved. He thought about asking Julian about his love life. He thought about asking him if he was happy.

But every time he spoke to Julian, he only asked about their children. The shared bond between them, unbreakable and eternal. He recognized the cowardice and necessity, hating himself a little more every time he passed up an opportunity to really know Julian once more.

Maybe he was feeling brave.

Maybe he was feeling insecure.

Whatever it was, his grey eyes stormed as he watched Julian put himself through his paces. He worked himself to the bone, sweating out what he couldn't turn into raw energy. It had been actual decades since Mace had tried to rise to that level of physicality.

Another reason he'd failed Julian.

"Here," he said, approaching at last. He chucked a towel at Julian, aiming it squarely at the chiseled-from-granite angles across his chest. Don't think about that, don't think - but he thought about it.

Mace folded his arms, a tight smile forming. "Show off."

He grabbed another towel for himself, just to give his hands something to do. They no longer shivered as they once had, but every now and again, he couldn't keep the cold at bay. "Do you have time to go for a walk? I just want to talk..."

And for the first time in a long time, he really did want to actually talk.

And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God,
And I'd get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
Be running up that building.
If I only could, oh


running up that hill
-placebo-

[dars]

Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] [/di