The Letter T(ea) // [Mace & Opal]

[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.

For all his grumbling about communication, Mace kept up with those he considered family. He called Aranica almost every week, regardless of Kieran's schedule. Mostly, he caught her up on how her grandchildren were getting on. But, sometimes he called to ask about how the crops were doing in Twelve, or if the torrential rains had reached her, or if she thought President Snow might pay them all a visit. Sometimes, far more rarely, he called Eleven. He used to call Katelyn. Now, he called the Rhodes residence, because he was always guaranteed to have someone pick up, even if that someone mostly spoke Toddler.

He'd sent a letter or two to Arbor.

Once a year he spoke to Julian, out of parenting necessity. After, his heart ached.

A few other missives went out, to the Wies, to the Blooms, searching for anyone who claimed Sawyer Monaghan.

And to her.

He guarded their correspondence jealously. Having lost one best friend, he would not give this one up to anyone. He understood her reasons for stepping back, for hunkering down. If the media knew about their letters, he would be hounded and she would sought out.

Such was the life of the damned in Panem.

He supposed, given the year, it should not have surprised him terribly that she wanted to meet in person. Her reason for leading a private life had simply grown up, very likely without her permission. That had happened to him too, many times over. At least now he had Kieran and Paige's little ones to keep him occupied when he was in Ten.

But in the Capitol, he had only his tributes, and already they were gone. He'd cared not at all with Silas died, but when Amberly did, he felt the sting.

Her letter was a balm, even though much of the cursive remained a mystery to him.

He arrived at the shop a little early, a bundle of letters tucked into a leather messenger bag. They were a mix of his favorites - accomplishments celebrated, grievances acknowledged - and several that he'd never been able to make hide nor tail of, including the latest (other than the invitation to tea).

The host quickly ushered him to a table with curving, high back chairs, a hand-embroided table cloth, and laminated menus. He doffed his hat, frowning a little. Two weeks in the Capitol had washed away the dirt beneath his fingernails but this still felt distinctly high-falutin. He looked up to ask if he had the address right, but the host had disappeared. When he stood to peak around the corner at the host stand, he was surprised to find... no one.

No one watching him.

No one taking photos.

He sat back down, carefully unfolding an artfully arranged napkin.

And that's when she rounded the corner to join him.

It clicked. "Oh, I just got it," he said, tapping his temple. "Ain't no one in all the Capitol who'd think we'd come to a joint like this." Chuckling, he regained his feet, dropping a kiss on her cheek. "I do thank you for the invitation."

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]

[cass]

opal earnest

Mace was a one of a kind. Even with the mess of her life and the choices she had made he would always be there for her. That friendship was one of the few she clung desperately to, spilling her life and her world into each letter she wrote him. She had missed his voice, it was a warm, welcoming voice that had always known exactly what to say, that had always been a guiding hand. She had missed his accent, and the way he filled the room and never ceased to bring a smile to her lips. Words spilled onto a page were nothing like the melody and comfort that arose from words entangled in the heat of conversation.

These streets had once been familiar to her, but now they were foreign. Ten years, it had been ten years since she had stepped foot in the Capitol. It had been far too long, but her son had needed her -she had needed him. Those children had needed her too. It was like a whisper in the cool breeze, lacing her skin in goosebumps. She pulled the cardigan tighter around her, tugging the scarf higher up on her face. I know, I know, I know, she whispered back to the voice in her mind, a persistent, nagging thought that woke her up in the middle of the night. It stabbed her heart every time her phone rang with a Capitolite telling her another one was dead.

Sometimes she wondered who she was really hiding from, why she had disappeared for a decade. But it didn’t matter, she was strong enough to survive the choices she had made. She would always survive, and she would do anything to make sure her son was better for it.

The shop looked exactly as it had last time she’d been by ten years ago. The warmth of the building enveloped her as she walked inside, and she sighed, gently tugging the scarf away from her face. She caught a glimpse of an older, but familiar man, her grin widened into a smile that reached her eyes. The stars danced in her stomach as Mace Emberstatt stood up and kissed her on the cheek, Opal huffed, pouting slightly at the formality of the movement. With a cheeky twinkle in her eyes and a grin to match, she threw her arms over Mace's shoulders, squeezing as tightly as she could. She had picked this place knowing that the Capitolite’s wouldn’t expect a man like Mace to walk in. Chuckling she pulled away, letting a hand linger on his arm, soaking in the contact, the familiarity, the comfort, the-

Uh, she hadn’t realised how much she had missed this. Her smile dampened a bit, the reality leaving a lingering ache in her chest.

”I’ve missed you, Mace,” she said moving her hand to his. She held onto it, her cold fingers seeking the warmth that Mace provided. ”It’s been a hell of a long time, my friend.”

[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'd been careful. Even with the intimacy of their letters, he'd not dared to hope. Hope that one of his best friends had walked into the fire and found a phoenix resided where her heart had been. Hope that, after dusting the ash from her wings, she might be willing to fly back into the heart of darkness. Back to the gaudy frozen hell of the Capitol, for...

Well, he couldn't ask her for the sake of friendship. He hadn't asked Katelyn, and he wouldn't ask Opal.

Some years, he didn't even ask Saffron. And she was everything.

Each season without Saffron in the Capitol felt like a long, cold winter night. He put on layers of plaid, wool, leather. He kissed his children and wished the District Ten tributes well. But it was hollow, like the prayers that passed Ansgar Todd's lips. He could never summon the raw, hot heat that burned in Saffron's eyes. He could never care for them so effortlessly, so deeply. And because of that, he understood why sometimes he stayed away.

He'd never figured out how to thank her for coming, all the years that she made the journey.

Somewhere along the way it had become less contenious. It had taken a long time - years - for him to realize. In fact, it was one of Opal's letter that had shed some light. At some point, both he and Saffron had become less invested in the Games and more invested in the vast majority of their lives. A revelation. Then, as much as ever, he had wanted to hug her.

And here he was, at last, pulled in close by his best friend.

The chuckle on his lips quieted to a wide smile as he melted into her arms.

"I’ve missed you, Mace. It’s been a hell of a long time, my friend.”

He wrapped his hand around her good one, squeezed, and then carefully led her to one of the high-backed chairs. He pulled it out for her, still holding onto her delicate palm, then manuevered himself across the table. They sat, tethered, menus and a caraffe of milk and sugar bowl between them.

"Ain't no trouble," he said, reflexibly, fanning out the napkin. Then, thinking better of the etiquette (which his sister, the Mayor, had drilled into him) he levelled Opal with his grey eyes. "You are worth the wait."

He squeezed her hand one more time and then withdrew his hand into his lap, organizing the lazy sheet. "You'll have to do the orderin' for us," he said almost absently. One corner of the embroided doily just would not smoothe. "I ain't never been to tea like this before. So long as there's food I'm right as rain, as you know."

He finally settled for forcing his palm over the corner, grinding it into the top of his thigh. He looked at Opal, maybe a little strained around the eyes. "I brought somethin' for ya."

With his free hand, and a glance at the corner (coast clear), he flourished the letters he'd squirreled away in his satchel. "Some highlights from our correspondence. You reckon we could have ever predicted it'd be ten years between meetin'? I sure as hell could not."

A pause, hearing the words piercing the quiet air of the establishment. He dropped his voice. "But you know I understand."

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]

[cass]

opal earnest

They moved further into the shop, back to a corner. Opal watched as Mace looked around himself, it was as if he was scared of being seen, of being caught. She knew that fear all too well, it was why she had tried so hard to live a life beyond the cameras and demands of the Capitol. But you could never escape, sooner or later it caught up with you, it chased you down and demanded your attention once again. Every time it did she was scared it would hurt Ky more and more, that it would expose him to truths about herself, and about Potato that she could not defend.

She knew he’d seen the videos of Potato’s death, the Capitol pasted them on TV every year when they filmed her return to his grave. It was the only chance she ever had to see it, to touch it, to feel the cold stone beneath her hands. So she suffered through the cameras and the videos and the demands they made. Perhaps that was why her skin was always so cold. It was like she was tethered to the stone that held onto the last memory of who he was and who he had been.

The space around her seemed to dry up as Mace released her hand to stretch out the napkin he had picked up. She nodded her head, glancing downwards at the menu, before listing off a number of sandwiches, desserts, and spoils for them to eat. She knew she would hardly touch it, but she liked the idea -the image of fullness, of somehow satiating the hole of loneliness that had enveloped her life.

”Ten years…” She echoed a bemused smile on her lips. She looked down at the letters he had pulled out, her familiar cursive peaking through the folds of paper. Mace had a way of setting her at ease, he always had. With a few simple words, the tightness in her shoulders released and she leaned forwards. She hadn’t realised how worried she’d been that he wouldn’t have understood and she felt almost silly for thinking that Mace wouldn’t have. He was Mace. He was the one person who had always understood the choices she had made, and she was the one person who would always do the same for him. At least, she hoped he still felt that way.

She shook her head, clearing her mind, that wasn’t important at the moment. With a raised eyebrow she asked, ”and which might be your favourite ones?” Opal thought for a moment, ”I personally really enjoyed the story of the house flooding, forcing Ky and myself to sleep in a tent in the backyard for a week in Winter.” She giggled at the memory, remembering the way they had pretended they were on an expedition through a rainy jungle. They had jumped in puddles and splashed each other with rainwater, it had felt good to be a child.

[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.

Mace listened to her order, nodding approvingly. Unless Opal had somehow come into an inheritance of appetite, they both knew who would be consuming the majority of the meal. When the server looked to him for any substitutions or additions, Mace just shook his head with a soft smile. Lavender and lemon scones sounded particularly delicious.

With that, they turned to the letters arrayed between them. A decade of correspondence, their one line of communication. He found himself oddly proud of them, not just of the echoes that Opal held in her possession, but of these: Opal's letters to him, written carefully, maybe even secretively. They had, despite the distance and the Capitol's interference, remained real friends.

"nd which might be your favourite ones?”

She reminded him of the tent. He nodded eagerly. "Yeah, I remember the old cans of garbanzo beans you fished outta your cupboard. I'd had to ask Reggie - beg pardon, Mayor Regalia - what that meant, and she teased me for a week that I didn't know they were, in our district, chickpeas." As he spoke, he fished that particular letter out and presented it to her.

"Suppose I've got fond memories of writing to you about Quinn's birth. And my grandkids, 'course. I liked, uhm," he pawed through the pile. "Here, this one. Yer talkin' about Ky's education and how he's comin' along. It ain't much, but at the same time, it's... it's life."

His brow furrowed, something not said. He shook his head slowly. "So much of these letters was just us livin'. I liked that."

When he met her gaze again, his grey eyes were ablaze. "Sometimes it don't feel like we're livin' at all, not after... everything." He stilled his shuffling hands, folding them over each other on the table. The clink of china warned him the server was returning with some of the morsels Opal had ordered. Mace sucked in a breath, and said all at once: "I've been thinkin', more and more, it's our duty to other victors to remind 'em why we're all here. For each other."

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]

[cass]

opal earnest

She smiled fondly as Mace pulled out different letters, showing her all the different stories they had told each other over the past decade. It wasn’t hard to remember the time he had written about the birth of his child, Quinn. That letter had been one of her favourites, it had reminded her of the time Mace had told her that she was pregnant, knowing before she had even known that she was with child. She knew that he was the type of man that would make an excellent father.

It seemed that over the decade Mace had slowly grown more and more of a family to look after and raise. He was a much different person to the one she had first met, and the one she had guided and helped as he clung to the boilers all those years ago.

"So much of these letters was just us livin'. I liked that." There were stacks and stacks of stories about their lives. “That’s the best part about it,” Opal agreed, “we were living our lives.” It’s what they both had wanted for the longest time. She was more grateful than words could express that she had been afforded the opportunity to finally live hers. The letters showed that.

The server arrived, placing plates of food on the table and a cup of tea for each of them. The pot was placed off to the side, and Opal eyed it, knowing that it was some of the best tea you could find in the Capitol. The oolong flavour was earthy and fresh, and she could never find one that tasted as good back in One. Mace spoke once more and Opal turned to him, a small frown creasing her face, she wasn’t exactly sure what Mace meant.

”What do you mean by that?” She asked, lifting her cup of tea to her lips and taking a sip. “How do you propose we do that? I’d be more than happy to try and work something out and help guide the younger ones.” She could picture the man in the suit at her door, she could see the way he had looked at Ky, and she knew this was a step in the right direction. “I don’t even know if the other victors like me, let alone trust me to to help you with that, Mace, I’ve not exactly been,” she looked away, taking another sip, "present."