The Looking Glass Waltz [Dom x Neysa]

[𝓂𝒶𝒽𝑜𝓊𝒽𝑜🕊]

D O M I T I A .

when I'm far too gone, will you show me love?

A familiar scene laid before me, one of comfort and faintly of home. Everything was dipped in silver. The blades were tipped in it; the ceiling reflected it against the lights, and even the mats and floors were of grey. It is a cool color of indifference, one that doesn’t welcome the inexperienced or embrace the routine. As I walked into the training center, like ants of a colony we dispersed. Some stood with uneasiness, others stride with confidence to their destination. Scanning the room, my heart ached at the site of the weapons wrack. It’s lute called to me, the grunts, clangs, and loud chatter shifting to white noise. My fingers stroked the cool metal achingly under my fingertips, remembering a faded time of months past. 

A morning thawed of frost had been my last run. Spring had opened a chapter I never thought I’d see. One of having a bed to call my own, a room albeit small for my own, in a place of warmth. But don’t let the metal fool you, this fortress can’t keep at bay Two’s blight. It was the morning fog that rolled in each day over the mountainous terrain that filled our lungs like a sickness. A plague that rotted the heart, that ate away at our brains, and by the time you’ve reached sixteen its roots have sunken in too deep. It was a viciousness that consumed any doubts one had, a sickness that encouraged you to swallow others whole. Although the academies were confined in imposing silver erected displays, it was all for show. The stage extended far beyond, those too sick to see. District Two isn’t a place that the weak survives. In the academy, they’ll bare their teeth at the weak, since those who are to die have no reason to be pampered. They get left behind. A noble district can’t be restrained, and those of poor fortitude have no place here.

The first few nights I had hid knowing this. Maybe it’s because I’ve grown accustomed to hiding the past six years of my life. Or because I knew how the others viewed me. The affluent felt I had no place here, felt I was undeserving of my spot here. They’d sneer at my bruises, muttering of the charity case that took refuge there. “Are you lost?” they’d question as I first stepped into the training room. My hands never wandered for the swords, or yearned for the standard, it always strayed for what I knew would garner a reaction. “You shouldn’t go for that, they’re useless.” With a roll of my eyes and cracking of my neck, the leather lazily smacking against the mats would sing for me. It’s welcoming melody enticed a grin, eyes narrowing towards my left side, where the useless noises chippered on. “If you’re going to be worth any sparring time, you should grab a swo- “ then with a crack at their feet and a screech, they’d always bounce back, earning a laugh. “Shoo” I’d coo, as cursing and hysterics ensued.

The blushing purple choker that flourished around my neck then, with the matching set split on the arch of my nose, weren’t manufactured from an institution like this. Although their eyes would lurk at the vulnerable flesh, I wasn’t comparable to a soiled apple at a market, no matter the glances as they passed by. I’m worthy of so much more than a charity case, one that can’t be confined to routine standards. Not everyone can afford to adhere to the coast. Why not press past and dive into the tide, forging your own path? Only now have I been able to do just that, and a sword is what I distaste the most. Because I’m not the career that grew up spoon-fed their destiny, I was one robbed of a warm home, one that grew used to the cold. And so, tradition doesn’t suit me, it never has anyway. 

But as my eyes gaze towards the upper, smaller weapons on the wrack, finger pads grazing leather, I found curious eyes watching over me. A dark brown gaze and haughty demeanor, although not from Two, the girl from Eleven reminded me of the family I made back in Townsend. One I had briefly known, but one that felt like home; a place I could finally belong. In a room that was familiar yet not, I wanted to cling to the only parts I knew; the parts except the boy that smelled of vomit with sweaty hands. Lowering my palm and raising the other, I plucked two swords for my potential companion. Side stepping to the side, I drove the hilt once more into the foam under me, leaning on it, while my right gestured a wave with the blade. “Hey Eleven, wanna dance for a bit?” It may not be my style, and maybe not hers either, but i'm not trying to tear her face up like I did before. Disfiguring someone isn't the best way to make friends, at least outside of Two. 

elegant

[pup]

Standing to the side of the center, I watch. My eyes flick from station to station, settling on a timid tribute, the testosterone-filled boy from seven, and when I reach Yuki, I scrunch my face in disgust. They were all preparing for death. It's a delicate dance, each tribute knowing that, as they flip through a book of mutts or study a set of plants, it's all for nothing.

Even if they win, what would they do with that?

Lounge about? Live in fear like Katelyn and Harbinger? Snort some drugs to dull whatever traumas they have? Stand to the side to hide from the Capitol's wrath?

No matter what they do when they win, I know it's not something worthwhile. If one of them came up to me and told me that they would use a victory for something good, I would really be surprised. It's not like they volunteer to go through this torture to get something good out of it. Amelia volunteered to save her sister to not go through the pain of losing her, I think. That boy from seven volunteered to kill. I'm the only one who volunteered to be selfless, despite how selfish Harbinger claims I am.

I'm not even sure if I could be friends with any of them, which is honestly fine. It makes it so much easier. The faster I get out of here, the faster I can get back to the apricot orchard, sitting among the sweet smelling grove, plotting my plans for Capitol destruction.

Shifting my gaze onto the girl swinging two swords, I recognize her immediately. Making it a point to know the careers told me who I would need to wait out. Domitia.

"Hey Eleven, wanna dance for a bit?"

It's definitely a better introduction than when the boy from seven tried to tear off my face or Yuki caught a creepy picture.

Grasping the hilt of the blade she offers to me, I balance it in my hand. It feels strange, new, but most importantly, dangerous. The unfamiliar weight is something I'll need to become familiar with quickly.

Grinning amiably, I say, "Sure, but I'm warning you that I don't have fancy feet yet."

Lowering my sword towards her, just as I've seen in games past before a duel, "Want to help teach me? You could probably do it better than any of these fake-ass capitolite trainers."

яose

[𝓂𝒶𝒽𝑜𝓊𝒽𝑜🕊]

D O M I T I A .

when I'm far too gone, will you show me love?

There was a brief moment of confusion it seemed. Perhaps I had startled her from her thoughts, or maybe it was because of my status. Either way, it didn’t matter much to me or her. Readily, Neysa approached up the mat, reaching for the hilt with ease. We shared a knowing grin, one that spread a familiar warmth for me. Maybe it was at the thought of familiarity seeping through. Of being back in a room that I had once known, since although I have never been here, I never really left nor arrived. Since silver lined gyms filled with weapons preparing for death have been all I had known, the only stability I’ve had. The only escape for me.

“Sure, but I’m warning you that I don’t have fancy feet yet,” Neysa said, but for a second I doubted it. When I think of Eleven, I think of a world far removed from Two. It would be several days’ time that separated our stalking grounds, but yet an atmosphere far different from here. Although the Capitol had a vibrancy in contrast to its marble and steel, District Two had been its ruffian cousin. The kind who stayed in their hometown, who took after their father’s line of masonry, while the other had moved away. Or maybe their parents had some time ago. Although the relation of blood was there, they were strangers nearly, who vaguely echoed one another in appearance and mannerism. Because District Two and the Capitol were fundamentally the same. They were built off a hierarchy, appearing much greater than each seemed. Their egos inflated one another, yet the other cousin had thought they always knew best. A perpetual contest had always been in line, with the older wealthier cousin always reigning supreme. And the younger District Two had perhaps grown accustomed to it, defeated even, since we are all raised just the same. To fall in line for the older, refined cousin, and to die for their eye.

But District Eleven had never been that, had it? I bet it isn’t perpetually cloudy there, that Neysa’s world was more than black and grey. Heres probably wasn’t as obnoxious as the Capitol, but more relaxing. The kind maybe you could lay under a tree, and forget any worries, like the kind of places dad would tell me were around long before. I didn’t know the girl before me, and neither did she with me, but I have a feeling we probably are closer in likes than we seem. And because of that, I knew already. “We all start somewhere.”

Pulling the sword that stuck from foam that I had been leaning on earlier, Eleven’s sword lowered towards me, as if a dog bowing its head modestly. “Want to help teach me? You could probably do it better than any of these fake-ass capitolite trainers.” As my deep eyes peered down at the older tribute, I couldn’t help but let out a hushed laugh, shaking my head slightly as I clanged my sword freely against hers. With a quick glance around the room, sizing up our rivals, my grin widened at the brute from Seven. He was more of a career than probably I, but god damn could he chill out for a second? No one likes a try-hard, nor does an audience. People like him are a dime-a-dozen at our academies, and they all die the same. “Gladly, although that one may give me a run for our money.”

Rotating my wrist, the blade swung round and tapped lightly against my neck, leaving a small paper cut as it thumped on my collar bone. Turning over, I leaned down towards the girl’s side and lowered my tone. “Want to hear a secret? It isn’t as hard as you think. You just have to outplay idiots like him at their own game. Find their weaknesses and stab right through them.” Rolling back on my heels, I swiveled around. Calling out with a wide smirk on my face, l looked over my shoulder with a smile shot Neysa’s way. “Come on, show me what you’ve got and we’ll go from there.”

elegant