a flag to wave: Katelyn + Vasco

[charade]

It was an odd juxtaposition, the joy in her heart and the sorrow her eyes beheld as the peacekeepers unloaded a pair of coffins from the train and wheeled them away to cold storage. She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t numb to it, because she was. Death was a part of being a victor. You outlasted twenty-three others and then year after year you watched the tribute graveyard grow larger.

The faces blended together after a while, but she never forgot the names. She’d made her peace with being unable to save them all. It’d taken years, but she had. It was enough that three of them had come home since her victory. Despite the dour mood pervading the district, she couldn’t stop her happiness from radiating out. She was in love.

Love. Her. She was loved. She supposed some part of her had always known who it was, but something had gotten lost along the way. She. She had gotten lost along the way. She signed a few papers that an aide was carrying and started walking towards the district square when she caught sight of a familiar face. The smile slid off of hers.

“Vasco,” she said, nodding as he drew nearer. He looked worse than the last time she’d seen him, but that was to be expected; he’d lost two more members of his family. A pang of guilt struck her when she realized he was using the cane again, it felt unfair that she could feel in such high spirits when one of her friends looked like death warmed over.

She should have tried to call him after Sarina died.

“It’s good to see you, my friend.” It’d be some time before the victory tour kicked off, which meant planning, and more planning. It meant funeral arrangements for the tributes and this year, it would be personal for Vasco.

Again.

She hoped he hadn’t seen the coffins being unloaded. But it was something she couldn’t escape discussing either. It was part of her job. Part of his too.

“I’m sorry about your niece and nephew,” she said quietly. After Alfonso had died, she’d dared hope that Sarina had had a real chance, but the crop of tributes was just too violent. Limbs had flown everywhere over the course of the games, and so many of the tributes had landed fatal blows so quickly.

“We tried.”

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[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Vasco Izar

Tiles were supposed to be on sale in the market that day.

I’d spent the better part of the month on the roof.

Yani would call up from below, complaining about how she had to hold the ladder, even though I was already up and hard at work pulling rotting terracotta tiles from the roof. She would scream every time I tossed down the pieces down to the earth before bursting into a fit of laughter. I set about pulling apart all the pieces that were cracked, yanking out the nails that held them in place, and then setting down mortar for the replacements.

A leak had started in Emmanuel’s room and begged the question how old this house was (twenty-seven years, if my memory wasn’t going, too).

The work was brutal on my wrists. Pushing back the terracotta was heavy, and the spring weather was still cold enough that I'd catch a good chill. Mornings would have my teeth chattering and afternoons I’d sweat right through my sweatshirt, only to be frozen again by sundown. By the end of the day, my knees would ache, and my back, too, setting out that damn tile.

It was beautiful work.

Somehow the slow and steadiness of the job eased my heart better than any meeting in the Mayor’s office could. And when I’d put my foot through a weaker part of the roof and gotten so stuck I’d needed to take off my boot before I could wrench it free, I laughed so hard tears started to stream down my face.

The work was solitary, so that when I sat down and looked out on the fields that ran flush up against Marisol’s place, and further still, it was just me. Just me listening to the robins call out from across the river. Or the sound of the water dribbling along, the current strong after a good storm. Victor’s village across the way, streetlights on and off even if no one was home. There was something to the peace.

Sitting out in the middle of the day, sipping on a beer, shirt off and sun at my back, that felt like paradise.

Now and again I’d look out toward the road and think about taking a walk up to the cemetery. Raquel needed fresh flowers, and someone ought to have pulled weeds from where Uxue lay. I’d feel the weight of it push me down, closer to the earth, or hunch me over. I couldn’t really push away the thoughts when they came calling. I let them come in and stay a while, to remind me that this bit of happiness felt selfish; that being alone was as much a cure for what I had as all the anger people seemed to put in its place.

Sarina and Alfonso would be home soon enough, and I’d be damned if I was going to have the house in such a state.

I’d carry the tiles up and set them out, sometimes kissing up to god that I hadn’t fallen off the ladder and broken my neck. And even on the worst of days, when all I wanted to do was sit and stare at the mortar, and tiles, I could feel a little push to keep going. This ought to get done, I’d tell myself. Because I had to hold on, for this. See it through.

For them, for you.

It wasn’t a coincidence that I’d needed to go into town the day they came home. I’d always planned on heading out to find them. Kirito, Harbinger, and Kass would be passing through, and it would’ve been nice to have let them know they were missed. And I’d tucked away something special for Katelyn (at Yani’s suggestion).

My knees were screaming at me that morning for the days I’d spent ignoring the pain and stiffness. I ambled along with my cane, steady through the gravel road. I’d stop by the station and see if I hadn’t missed their arrival. Then I’d haggle for a few more tiles from the market, maybe see if I couldn’t pick up some bottles of beer, too.

I tried not to let the heaviness I felt have my knees give. Or that the sleep that escaped me wasn’t so present on my face. That I’d skipped out on the barber for weeks, with Yani calling me (un troglodita) at the sight of me. Had I worn this same flannel shirt just the other day? Ah, well.

I’d been chattering to the tilemaker about how I planned to see Pierre Hope next week when I’d heard, Vasco, come across the market.

Something had changed in the time since Katelyn had gone off to the capitol and returned. A certain spring in her step. The glow that could’ve just been the capitol make-up but – hmm.

Then came the part that ran right through me, hard as I’d prepared for it.

‘I’m sorry about your niece and nephew.’

Their bodies were home, tucked away somewhere to wait for a final goodbye. 

‘We tried.’

A lump rose in my throat, and I lowered my head to avoid her gaze.

“It’ll be a hard funeral.” I admitted, and a second passed before I imagined it might’ve been too much truth. But I was so tired, it was harder to sort through what was for me and me alone to feel. “It’s been a long time, my friend, and I apologize if I don’t look myself, I’m not much feeling it these days. You, however, look even more wonderful than I remember.”

I glanced back at Katelyn and gave my best smile. 

“Would you mind walking with me? I need to take some things back to the house.” I motioned to the bags of tile. “I thought we might get a chance to talk. I could use a good story.”

[charade]

The train ride had been uneventful and Katelyn had had a lot of time to herself. The majority of it had been spent thinking about Opal, and wondering if she’d be okay back in district one. She wanted to bake something for her. Something with strawberries.

It was funny, the things that stuck with a person, but she’d never forgotten that those were her favorite. She wondered about Ky and what it was like to be a victor and have a child.

Hell, she imagined. Six years of waiting to see if the hammer would drop. If the Capitol would use them as a pawn. It was bad enough just being a regular citizen with children, but to be a victor?

Katelyn thought that the parents among peers were braver than most.

The doubts had reared their heads too. She was happy. Truly happy for the first time in forever. Which made her wary that something terrible was just around the corner, waiting to pop her bubble of joy. But it was unhealthy to dwell on such things, and she had pushed it away, at least, until she’d seen Vasco.

The sorrow in his voice was evident, and Katelyn felt a pang of guilt stab at her chest. Vasco found the time to compliment her when his heart was surely breaking. She grabbed the majority of the bags of tile without a second thought and hefted them over her shoulder. It was the least she could do when they’d failed to bring his family back again. Then she steeled herself, now was not the time to fall back into that line of thinking.

“A story, Vasco?” she murmured as they walked.

He was eager to change the subject, and Katelyn couldn’t blame him. The look on his face was one she’d seen in the mirror on many days. It spoke of pain that was meant to be kept hidden, of guilt and worry and stress. He was a man who bore his suffering in silence in order to carry the weight.

Stories. She thought of the diamond mountain, of lover’s lake and the hare and tortoise. She smiled wanly; she could tell he was asking about her in a roundabout way. They walked, Katelyn a step behind as she wasn’t sure where they were headed.

“I’ve met someone,” she said after a moment. “Someone that makes me feel— “ Complete? Alive? Young again? Safe? She chuckled softly. “Well, not met so much as—” she shrugged, as best as she was able to with the bags slung over her shoulder. It was a little more complicated to explain than she first thought. Too many years, too much history, too much time wasted. “Let’s just say that if I didn’t believe in second chances before, I do now.”

She’d had to rethink a lot of what she thought she knew.

“I think you’d like her.” She thought of Opal’s smile and her heart soared. Katelyn inhaled deeply, taking in the air of the district and let a breath out. “But enough about me. How are things in eleven?” She jerked her head towards the bags. "And what’s with this? Do you have some repairs that need doing?” She’d have things to take care of herself, soon enough. With the games over for the year, there was her bakery to attend to, not to mention the garden. She could already feel the weed-pulling she’d have to do.

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[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Vasco Izar

We idled in the square for another moment, and I’m struck by the sounds of voices behind me. The smell of fresh pan dulce wafting from a stall off a ways. Children calling back and forth to one another as they chase through the market. Life edges on, stories take shape and we manage, for better or worse, to move on. I grabbed the last bag of clay tiles and slung it over my shoulder.

The strap around my shoulder snug, I stepped along with her, ambling at the front.

‘I’ve met someone.’ She started slow, and I raised my eyebrows at the announcement. Not so much at the shock that Katelyn had found someone, but that she had opened her heart to let them in. She’d had a life of forced perseverance. Nothing had come without trial, and without the world following her every move.

“Me alegra oírlo,” I couldn’t help but start to smile. Even as my body listed with the weight of the bag and the thoughts of funerals not far off, it had me all flush, warm, and full.

I remembered meeting her some years ago, and seeing the armor that weighed her down. The way the world tried to teach her that there was no strength in vulnerability, that such a weakness might fracture her to pieces. There was always the risk that tragedy and trauma could pull you apart, this much I would admit. But it didn’t begrudge kindness. I happened to think that hope, and love, could bridge any divide, or patch any wound. You just had to be willing to admit that there may never come a day for it to be returned.

But if we lived our lives always hoping for a reward, we’d stay lost in loneliness, and miss out on what was right in front of us. And sometimes, when you opened your heart to the world, you found the most amazing friendships, too.

‘Someone that makes me feel…’ She wandered behind as we walked the gravel road, my cane cutting through the silence each time I tapped it against the earth. ‘Well not so much met as…’ There was more to this to be sure, but I wouldn’t pry. There was a pulse of something that tangled Katelyn’s words between her head and her heart.

‘ Let’s just say that if I didn’t believe in second chances before, I do now.’

I nodded along, and beamed, even as I looked down at the gravel so as to not let my heart get the better of me. Sometimes I’d felt like crying at the strangest things. This felt different though, the same sort of bittersweet as when Sofía had finally told us she was leaving the house to live on her own. A sort of pride that reminded you how far someone had come, and all they had left in front of them.

‘I think you’d like her.’ She glowed at the mention of it, and I couldn’t help but smile wider at the thought.

“I’m quite sure I would, my friend. You’ve always had a good heart to guide you.” Let this have been the kindness she needed and deserved.

‘But enough about me. How are things in eleven? And what’s with this? Do you have some repairs that need doing?’

I stopped in my tracks for a moment to catch my breath, and wipe some sweat from my brow. The subject switched back to me, and I wished we could’ve lingered a while longer in Katelyn’s newfound happiness. What was there to tell her, or anyone, other than I’d spent the months trying to push past the emptiness toward a neutral ground? That’d I’d felt the same as when Raquel had died, as though I’d been set out in the ocean in a raft, with a hurricane unfolding around me. With waves looking to swallow me on, winds to dip me into the water again and again, so hard that I thought I might drown.

And here I was, still kicking and fighting waves, now farther apart, but still there. More tired than I’d ever been, and hard to hold on, but I was here. Pressing one foot in front of another because we persevered. Because I believed that one day the waves would settle and I’d see my family on the shore in the distance, all would be well.

“Spring’s here, and some of the orchards are looking to bloom. I started fixing our roof after a storm about a month ago, we had a little leak. Yani’s been helping me, holding that ladder and watching that I don’t fall. Yani’s grown so much, you won’t believe it. She – oh, I can’t forget.” I shifted the bag on my shoulder and pulled out another little sack of burlap. I opened the tie to reveal the little wooden pendent. “We made this together, and she wanted to give it to you. It’s a lauburu. Good for energy, and healing.”

I’d missed the little moments of happiness, of the joy that I could have giving such a gift.

“We do the best we can here. I… well, I don’t know if I’ve felt so low in a long while.” I admitted at last, smile falling from my face. “It just feels as though someone’s put chains down at my ankles and on my wrists and, I just… I know I have to keep on, it’ll be better but… it’s hard. You know?"

"I started asking myself how do I stand up in front of my family, and this district after what they’ve done to us?”

[charade]

He must have been doing worse than he looked, Katelyn thought. He may not have been a young man, but he was far from old, and she could hear the lack of energy in his breathing. Spring was in the air, he said, and she could smell the cherry blossoms from the market. The orchards had always been her favorite part about her home. A storm had damaged their roof, and she figured it must have been shortly after she’d left for the Capitol. Not good for her garden if it’d been strong enough to damage a roof. Some of the seedlings she’d planted a month ago might have gotten washed out.

—oh, I can’t forget,

Katelyn accepted the gift with a small oh of surprise, feeling her heart melt. Yani was so precious, and that the two of them had taken the time to make it? It was a design she’d seen before, four teardrops in the rough approximation of an X or a cross. “Thank you, Vasco” she said, putting the bags of tile down for a moment to fasten the pendent around her neck. “It’s wonderful.”

We do the best we can, he went on, and she nodded knowingly. That was how most people in eleven seemed to be. But he felt so low, so manacled by the machinations of the Capitol. The Izars weren’t even a victor family, but members of their clan had caused trouble before, and one of them was the Mayor. They got the short end of the stick more often than not. Years ago, Katelyn had stopped believing that the reaping was random. It was rigged. Had to be. Rigged to punish certain families for their sins, or for the sins of their forebears.

Katelyn counted herself lucky not to have children of her own.

How could she not?

Arianna and Annora Taylor. Belle and Stella Calloway.

Crusader, Weaver, Tamron and Asari Rhodes.

Iain Miristioma.

Benat. Iago. Levi. Salome. Raquel. Gabriel. Alfonso. Sarina.

Empty seats at the dinner table. One would have been too many. It broke her heart. Moreso, considering the close-knitness of the community. She wasn’t sure how to bring it up, but if the Izar’s planned on having a smaller ceremony after the funeral proceedings were over with, she’d attend for them. She wanted to let them know that other people mourned the loss of two bright young souls, cared about the family. They deserved better.

A wise old man had once said that a long life was a battlefield where everyone else had fallen, leaving you alone amid the wreckage. As the tribute graveyard continued to widen every year, she found herself agreeing with that saying. But as long as there were people standing, the battle wasn’t over. As beaten down by the world as she had been in the last decade, Katelyn refused to lay down and die. Sure it was hard. Many nights she saw the faces of the tributes she'd failed to bring home, but she knew—

“When the burden gets too heavy to bear, you share the load,” she stated before smiling sheepishly. "I know I’m not the best at following my own advice, but I do believe that.” That wasn’t the only thing she believed in either. “You’re a good man, Vasco. They know that. Have times been hard? Sure. But you haven’t failed the district, or your family. You haven’t lost. How you can lose when the system doesn’t intend for you to win?”

Katelyn’s eyes widened as she realized what she'd just said, so she covered her mouth and coughed, looking around quickly. In her attempt to cheer him up she was treading dangerously close to voicing outright treason. She had to be more careful than that, not let her mouth run away from her. She’d suffered too much for that. “Sorry,” she said a little quieter, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, “How do you stand? With your back straight and head held high.”

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[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Vasco Izar

As I watched the wooden pendant turn back and forth, I thought of what it’d taken to carve it.

Weeks of a black cloth covering mirrors, of burning candles and telling ourselves that we could soldier on – even if I hadn’t known where that might have been to. Putting one foot in front of the other because there was Yani to think of, and even if I couldn’t lie and say that there was some sort of silver lining to all of it, could still put on a brave face for her. Let me be her father, and give me a few years where she doesn’t have to face all the cruelty of this world. Don’t let them take her spirit. Don’t let her have to face what her brother Manu had (we don’t talk about how he slashed his wrists down by the river anymore).

I’d stroked her curls when she’d cried into her pillow. I’d thought of how tired I was, slouching against the wall and struggling to keep my eyes open. I’d whisper how we loved her, that everything she felt was meant to be a part of her, even if it hurt. That I wouldn’t try to offer an answer, not because I didn’t have one, but also because nothing I could’ve said would mean as much as knowing we were going through this together.

She’d grow up into a woman like Katelyn one day, hard as it was to see. Forged through a path of all that panem could throw at her, and still, she’d stand tall. And if she fell apart from time to time, I’d still be there, ready to sit next to her, cradle her, hold her in my arms to offer all the strength that I could give. She’d be my little girl forever and always – no one in this world could change that, not even President Snow.

Yani had been standing at the base of the ladder watching me struggle with another set of tiles when she’d asked if we could make something together. (Un regalo para Katelyn). Something that we could make together that would get me to come down from the roof, and spend a few afternoons with her. So we carved out the wood, and found the leather string. We’d talked about the meaning of the lauburu, how it was a symbol older even than Marisol. That when she’d taken the time to paint it black, we’d both smiled, and declared that it could be something to remind Katelyn of Eleven, even when she was so far away.

‘When the burden gets too heavy to bear, you share the load. I know I’m not the best at following my own advice, but I do believe that.’

Her smile lifted me up, more than any day throwing down tiles across the old roof had.

‘You’re a good man, Vasco. They know that. Have times been hard? Sure. But you haven’t failed the district, or your family. You haven’t lost. How you can lose when the system doesn’t intend for you to win?’

I’ve never been shaken of my faith in Eleven. Even when Raquel had died, and doubt was all that I seemed to muster when the sun rose, the people I’d surrounded myself with hadn’t let me forget what life was about. That their kindness, while not an answer to all the anguish could still raise me up from the dirt. That the dinners Marisol had brought nurtured these roots; the way Emma wrapped her arms around me and let me settle; that Druso or Aresti kept an eye on how little I pulled from the fields, and dropped some of what they’d done in my basket, all of these things showed no matter how cruel the world was, there would always be a chance for us.

‘Sorry,’ she caught herself, knowing what her question could mean. ‘How do you stand? With your back straight and head held high.’

The world needed more people like Katelyn Persimmon. Someone that had taken her flaws and embraced them. Her hand on my shoulder had me tearing up, and not because of how awful I’d felt.

“With my back straight, and head held high,” I repeated her, and tried to raise my head with a bit of a laugh. I wiped away a tear and shook my head.

“You have no idea how much it means for you to say all of that, Katelyn. I'm lucky for you.” It’s a simple kindness, to offer yourself as one to help carry the load. But in a world where cruelty had become the point, to see that someone was willing to put herself out for another brought me back to my faith. That no matter what the world could throw at me, it would never change the fact that it was love that brought out the best in each of us. That kindness could defeat tragedy because when time had come and gone, we were left with how we felt, and not what had happened, to contend with.

“You don’t have to apologize, I – I’ve brought all of this and, I just wanted to make it better,” I admitted at a whisper. “But I know, I know that they haven’t won. Not when I have friends like you.” I moved closer and opened my arms for a hug.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized. For letting the capitol get the better of me. For the times I may not have been there for her when she needed me. For Alfonso and Sarina. “It’s all become so clear what has to be done. I just need time.”

[charade]

Katelyn hadn’t met many people like Vasco Izar. People who never lost faith in a better tomorrow. She’d lost faith before; she could admit it. She’d screamed and broken plates, let the world reduce her to a sobbing wreck on the floor of her kitchen. There had been times when she’d let the pain overwhelm her, keep her from sleeping or from confiding in those closest to her. Vasco—

Vasco was different. While the world threatened to bleed him dry, he never faltered. Wavered maybe, but faltered? No. He believed in a fair shake; that love could overcome hate. That the destination was worth a journey soaked in blood, sweat and tears. She was wrong. He wasn’t a good man. He was a great man. The problem with that though was that the world had a way of making or breaking those.

She wondered what that said about her.

For so long she had felt like the sum of her mistakes, a disaster that turned everything she touched to ashes. Only recently had she learned to see that she was not defined by everything that had happened to her. She was stronger for it, and her scars were a tapestry that told her tale in its rawness and in its beauty. Vasco whispered a confirmation and she pulled him into the hug, patting his back in a comforting manner. He apologized, and she shook her head.

What did he have to apologize for?

Time to do what needs to be done?

Katelyn didn’t like the sound of that, but she wasn’t going to press the issue.
“Just—be careful, alright?” she whispered as they broke the embrace and resumed their stroll. Yesterday was dead and gone. The past couldn’t be changed, but the future held so many possibilities. The next time the Capitol came for an Izar, odds be damned, she’d bring them home. She’d owed him that much.

“Triumph over tragedy, my friend.” She said a little louder than her last sentence. “I know you’ve always got the best interests of the district at heart.” Katelyn shifted the tiles she was carrying and mused about whether or not he’d accept it if she paid to have his house fixed up. Honestly, he’d probably tell her she was doing too much, but what else did she have to do with the Capitol allowance? She was set for life at the price of being one of the Capitol’s playthings. Might as well do some more good with it.

Perhaps it’d be better to leave that as a surprise.

Katelyn took a deep breath and kept trudging along, thinking of fixing things up reminded her of her fellow victors. The bond she’d forged with her brothers had splintered over the years, due in no small part to her absence, but she hadn’t done much to repair it since getting back. She felt like Kirito was just doing what he could to give her space, but Harb— Harb had been pretty upset with her the year Kass had come home, and he’d been indifferent ever since.

And then of course, there was Kass, who was a ball of anger and hurt and did not want her to try to help unravel it. The former were relationships worth saving, and the latter was one she felt was worth the time to make. It helped that she wasn’t being crushed by a tidal wave of stress and anxiety as much anymore, but she wasn’t sure where to start with any of them. They weren’t as easy to talk to as Vasco.

"Do you need any help with the roof? I'm not a roofer, but I'm sure I can find some help.”

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