rebellion | [Delroy & Kass]

[sbeeg]

She was consumed with thoughts of fire. Of Capitol glass shattering and flames consuming all of it. She had wanted it more than air, more than life itself.

And once her life had been put to the test she had killed for it and stood, anxious and waiting, under the Capitol's eye trying to figure out how to wiggle out from underneath their thumb.

She didn't want to be like Persimmon, she couldn't. Kass refused to get comfortable. To bake cookies like none of it mattered. All of it mattered, every day, every hour.

Kass sat in the District Eleven common room waiting for Delroy to come back from training. It was late and she kept glancing at Katelyn's door half expecting the woman to step out and try to mother her.

Kass didn't need a mother, she needed justice.

Delroy finally stepped in, the ding of the elevator leaving behind him.

Kass stood up from the couch and grabbed his forearm.

"I have some advice for you," she said, her voice even. "Follow me."

She went to the door to the staircase and paused to make sure he understood. She led him up the few flights of stairs to the roof. It was dark outside and while the training center was mostly asleep the Capitol was still very much awake. Kass wondered if they always partied this hard or if they did have quiet nights but she always saw them at the height of Games mania.

She led Delroy back through the rooftop garden to the area where windchimes and other art made of glass and metal twirled from a trellis roof. They clinked together in the wind, sharp and loud enough to cover any conversation.

"Tell me more about your token and the war," she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tell me where they went wrong. Tell me how to not make the same mistakes.

table by griffin

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Mrs. Delores Wickersham had been on the teach Delroy to keep his heart open, even if he’d been hurt. That mending the distance between who he was and who’d hurt him wasn’t weakness, it was a sign of growth, and maturity. She’d tell him to turn the other cheek when he got heated and kicked up a storm about the way life was. She never stopped him from his anger, but instead tried to get him to recognize that in the brilliance of its power, he had a choice to do better. To be better for the sake of his cause, even if he felt betrayed by the whole world around him.

The apartment had never felt much like the front porch of the shotgun house back in eleven. It’d been missing the smell of fried plantains and fried breadfruit at breakfast. He refused any help from the avoxes. On his first day, he’d said that he was an abolitionist – that their freedom was as important as his, perhaps more so. Those without voices demanded a greater justice and freedom than the ones who could still speak. He’d ground his teeth at the thought so many casually accepted their servitude, as though the system could not be altered with as little as demanding the avoxes who stood watch over his room be removed from their service.

Nighttime was harder.

The victors all hovered overhead like vultures, ready to tear him apart about all that he’d gotten into that day. And while he couldn’t hate them for paying such an interest in his life, he could judge them for all that they lacked. The way that they would still be here and he would likely not, that was a lesson that should’ve had most on ther knees. Whether or not they’d been through hell and back. And yet there they were, soft smiles and encouraging words.

They’d given up whole parts of themselves in favor of forgetting the system.

When he looked at Kass, her eyes on him as he entered, he couldn’t help but wish she’d be cross with him. At least then he’d have a bigger reason to hate the youngest victor, the one he’d watch take down Jacob to come home.

Instead she asked for him to follow her, and in thinking a few moments (his outright refusal lost to his curiosity), he went after her.

They rose to the roof he’d been on just the other day, and looked out at another glorious skyline.

He was lost looking at the breadth of light when she asked about his token.

“It’s my great uncle’s enlistment pin. Taylor Wickersham. Signed up a year and a half before the war was over.” Delroy had heard stories from his great grandfather. That he’d been a hot head who’d traded a comfortable farmer’s life for weeks out in the wastelands between districts, carrying a rifle and playing at being a soldier. “He was seventeen when he signed up. Went off on his own and joined a mixed regiment – soldiers from eight and eleven – to try and liberate one of the upper districts.”

They’d disappeared somewhere outside of eight, at least, what one of the boys had said upon their return.

“He’d said that anyone who bought into how we were supposed to live was already a lost cause,” Delroy turned then to look at Kass. The girl who’d been selfish enough to kill her own district partner. She’d played the game and gotten a crown, and now what? “He gave it all up to try and take them down. Was engaged before he died, too.”

It hadn’t been enough to shake his resolve, though.

“Makes me wonder why you and all them seem so comfortable living as you do, when a man could give up his whole life knowing he was probably going to die. Especially when it was a question of freedom.”

[sbeeg]

Kass listened intently. They didn't exactly teach much about the war in school and even when they did it wasn't like she was there to hear them. She didn't have time to waste on school, she sat in the district square and swindled shop and peace keepers out of a few coins.

It was a sad story of a boy dying too young. A young person with so much promise and drive. She was so lulled into the story that she wasn't expecting Delroy to turn his attention on her.

“Makes me wonder why you and all them seem so comfortable living as you do, when a man could give up his whole life knowing he was probably going to die. Especially when it was a question of freedom.”

It felt like he'd slapped her. For nearly four years she had been the trouble maker. The petulant child that was constantly questioning Persimmon's comfort, wanting more, wanting something besides what they had. She had cut of contact with Killian and the rebellion to make sure it remained safe now that her entire life was in the spotlight. A child of fourteen living to eighteen by herself with only the occasional dropping in of a Victors who didn't want trouble or a mayor who wanted to much.

She didn't want to be Katelyn. She didn't want to tell this boy he didn't understand and that he'd learn to shut his mouth because that was what her heart had screamed at her all these years.

Kass wanted to scream at him. She wanted to grab him by his shirt and punch him across the face. She wished she was in the Arena again, the lack of gravity giving her small stature an advantage instead of a weakness.

Instead she took in a breath, letting the chill night air calm her raging thoughts.

"I don't know what gave you the idea that any of us live comfortably," she could feel Persimmon's words crawling up her throat. She despised it. "But go ahead and die in the Arena if you think it'll help."

She couldn't stop the bitterness that spread across her tongue. She wasn't used to this fight. She was always fighting up, fighting to be heard, fighting to be understood. She could feel her defenses coming up. The same walls that crowded around her mind when Katelyn and her got into it. The same walls that kept her going in the arena and the same ones that kept everyone at an arm's length.

She thought she'd get to learn something up here and she guessed she did. The rebels lost the war because they thought honor and good intent was enough to win according to Delroy's attitude.

"That's the thing about dying an honorable death- it's real moving but it's worth jackshit."

table by griffin

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Ayena, the Dean of Iris Gate, had warned him of how he came across talking to those he’d been better off trying to win over. She’d have asked if he was surprised at the way that Kass replied to him, and likely raised an eyebrow at anything he’d have to say (mostly that he didn’t care about the anger, because at least it meant he’d made her feel something).

Delroy waited for the storm to subside. He wasn’t hurt that she’d told him he could die based on his attitude alone. Touched quite the nerve suggesting that the victors lived a better life than most in the district could dream of. Dolled up and trotted out as they were, they still had the clothes on their backs and full bellies. They still got proximity to power, whether or not it was turned against them. Some of them even went as far as to marry into it.

“Taylor died Kass, because he looked around his district and saw that there was no future. You think you’re so oppressed?” Delroy sneered at the little woman – he’d call her girl, acting like a child but his eleven manners had kicked in – and saw her for who she was. Spoiled. “You grew up in the orphanage didn’t you? So now, you live in a big house, get on television, get to marry and have kids if you want and take them to the capitol, right?”

Maybe she just cared more about being called out for who she was and what she had, than ever raising her voice and making a difference.

“His death wasn’t honorable. They stole his life from him. But he knew that it was either he put his fucking heart out on the line so that people that looked like him and lived like him wouldn’t have to do that anymore or die trying. Not be a coward and think they can fix a system that won’t be fixed.”

Why would they ever take the risk? It was only the ones that had less to lose that risked their lives. It was his body, and bodies of boys like Taylor who fought for freedom not just when it was convenient. He wished Ayena were there to smooth all of this over or put it into words better than he had. She had the age and gravitas to shine a light on the truth.

For Delroy, he wasn’t having her bullshit.

“I know you were never afraid to do what it took to survive, we all saw that,” Delroy spoke, remembering the moment in the square when she’d ended Jacob’s life. He remembered, too, the explosions that had followed, the riots and the violence. “But tell me, with getting your life back, are you doing everything you've wanted? Must teach you a lot hanging around people that have only been through the same thing as you."

[sbeeg]

Her cheeks were hot and she hated how apparent her anger must be. How being around anyone her age had reminded her that she was barely eighteen an still the prime age to send kids off to die. That she'd never live a life resembling anything normal and that she'd already become accustomed to being paraded around and complacent.

She shook her head at his words. She had never thought of marrying anyone, the idea of having children made her want to throw up. He didn't know her life and yet she felt the need to defend herself. To let this stupid child know he didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

He didn't see the argizaiola burning like a regular candle laid out on Kirito's dinning table.

"I know you were never afraid to do what it took to survive, we all saw that"

The words hit in her in the chest, twisting and searing deep into the bone. Despite the words she may have yelled at Katelyn, that was the one things Victors never blamed each other for. Everyone with the crown had to kill someone and no one was above anyone else.

She stepped forward drawing up her entire frame that reached only to Delroy's shoulder to glare up at him.

"What kind of life do you think you'd live if you were a murderer by fourteen?" she asked, her voice raw. She felt a familiar sense of doom closing in around her like the metal walls of a space station. The feeling that there would be no escape except through the person in front of her. "Don't tell me how to live my life. You may have watched me on TV but you do not know me."

She looked at him, taking in his face and swallowed back the bitterness that threatened to swallow her whole.

"You better die in that arena if you think life outside of it will be..."

Her voice cut off, tears threatening to spill over. This wasn't supposed to be happening. She was supposed to be learning about the rebellion, to make her life worth living and now she was admitting that it was nothing.

That she killed and clawed her way home only to realize she was worthless to the cause. That Persimmon was right but that if she kept snapping at everyone and pushing Katelyn away she could pretend that was a rebellion in and of itself.

That she had done nothing in the last four years to help anyone and had moped around her big house feeling sorry for herself and hating anyone who tried to show her any kindness.

Her hard gaze broke and she stared down at her Capitol gifted boots, a perfect fit of polished leather.

She wanted him to go away. To die like all the others. Like Cyro and Arabella. Like the Izars and Milo and Harbinger's Asari. She wondered if Katelyn felt the same way about her years ago.

"May the odds be in your favor or whatever," she said, wiping a hand across her cheek and starting back towards the rooftop door.

table by griffin

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

It was almost like playing bingo when it came to her response. When you called out the advantage someone else had, or held up a mirror to everything that they were missing, it meant either crumble and concede, or run away. He was the attacker, of course, for not understanding how much she had struggled under the weight of the world. That he didn’t understand her intentions was his fault, and if she was anything like Katelyn, her good intentions were what she should’ve been judged upon, whether or not they screwed people like Delroy time and time again.

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched the way her color changed. The little gears that turned in her head and the steam that was about ready to come out of her ears. He didn’t need to state his case any further because she’d already lost. But it was damn good to see that someone like Kass could be cracked so easily. He wished he could’ve been surprised being that she was from eleven, as though he expected more.

Kass acted as though he didn’t know her, but he knew who she was. He didn’t even have to watch television or keep up with the gossip to know she was a fraud.

He snorted when she said he could go off and die, because that was the only thing they ever said in return. Silence was all they ever grew up in, bathed in, drank up and fucked with, a crippling weapon that the capitol had struck them with for their lives. If he was dead, then she wouldn’t be able to hear him, to think about him, or have to ever listen to how she’d turned her back on her own people.

Bet he could still haunt her, though. 

“I never figured you for a runner. But I guess that’s what happens when you can’t face the truth.” Delroy sniped as she made her way to the exit. “Rebels never ran, because they believed they could live free, or die trying. Make the world equal. And not just have people like you act like the world hasn't done them all the favors.”

He gave a shrug and smiled wider. It’s not that he enjoyed being mean, but damn, it felt good when the girl across from him thought she could just shut him out and couldn't. Her tears? He wasn’t going to legitimize more bullshit.

“But go ahead and turn your back on us. We see who you really are.”

[sbeeg]

His words stopped her retreat faster than any physical touch could. She stood, her back to him, trying to gather herself. Trying to feel like an older wiser version of the scared little girl that tip toed around a space station. A smarter version of the little orphan that wandered around District Eleven looking for a place to belong.

But she was nothing but that orphan, nothing more than that girl. Forever stuck in the stars choking on Eleven's dust.

"We see who you really are."

A part of her heart screamed out, wanting to turn to him and ask him who she truly was because she didn't know. She thought she did but it all came tumbling down so easily. Who was she? Who was Kassandra Nerys?

"Okay," she said sniffling back a sob and rubbing a tear off her face before turning back to face him determined not to let anymore fall. The last time she felt this raw was in the Arena and now in the open chill air of a world not contained in metal she felt so small.

"I'm a coward." It hurt to say it out loud and she clenched her jaw to keep any future tears at bay. "I wanted change and revolution but now I'm scared."

She's back on the porch of the orphanage looking down at the cards describing her future. Death, destruction, pain, and suffering. She thought they had been wrong when she won, that the cards had lied. But now, after coming home she felt all of it.

"I'm afraid of what they'll do to me." Tears pooling in her eyes but not falling. "Because it'll be far worse than death."

All the lonely hours sitting in her big house, hugging her knees to her chest to afraid to speak lest the Capitol hear her thoughts of treason.

"I didn't want to be like this," she said, her voice cracking. "I wanted to be strong, I wanted to change everything. But I'm one person."

She looked away, down at the flickering lights and music rising up from the street below.

"And I'm terrified."

Of dying.

Of the Capitol.

Of the idea that the universe let the wrong person live.

"So if you have any suggestions how a single kid can tear down a society I'd love to hear them."

table by griffin

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

He didn’t mistake the tears for empathy. That much she’d have to prove, and as far as he could see, Kass was still clinging to the fear that should she lift a finger to help them, it’d threaten her own way of life. She wasn’t without merit in thinking it would be difficult, or that she’d struggled enough to want peace. But that was easy, wasn’t it? Getting a bigger share of the world and then doing nothing to help those around her. Effectively shutting the door on anyone that bothered to try anything different. She was a coward, but she said it as though the vast majority of panem weren’t, too.

There were stories of the rebels and what they’d done all those years ago. He’d heard about a regiment from eleven that’d been captured early on. They’d stripped flesh off their skin and torturing them for years in cells until the war was finished, and then burning them all alive in a bunker. The capitol hadn’t changed in eighty odd years, there was no reason to believe that they were any less horrific.

And at sixteen, he wasn’t sure that he had any of life’s answers for Kass, much less how to spark a revolution that could carry on as the first war had.

“We are one person each, aren’t we?” Delroy was quiet then, still curious as to whether these were crocodile years. She could’ve just wanted some sort of absolution for him (which she’d be waiting for hell to freeze over if that were the case). “Everything I’ve read and heard about the revolution is that it started with people who stopped focusing on the need to make it on their own. Isn’t that what the capitol teaches? To separate ourselves?”

He saw it as a weakness to go it alone. He’d spare Kass the lecture on seizing the means of production that he’d learned from Professor Fladgate, or the way an informed group of people could establish a more representative government. More important, then, was figuring out how she could see this was bigger than her, but so were stakes.

“But it takes someone to start. Someone to wake people up. Someone that’s willing to forget about a legacy or what might be waiting behind their back. And maybe that isn’t you, but maybe you know people that are. Hell, I’m here,” Delroy admitted. He wished he wasn’t. He wished he could’ve been stirring things up back in eleven. “It’s a shame of an existence if the whole time it’s spent living in fear.”

[sbeeg]

She could see herself in him. The fire, the desire for a change. Instead of burning with him she felt her little flame flicker and fizzle. Hearing it out loud from someone else made it more obvious how impossible it would be.

"To start what, Delroy?" she asked. "It's all pretty language and good metaphors but it's bullshit. What the fuck have you done besides wear your little ribbon and make us feel bad for not doing what you say?"

Kass hated him. For making her see how much of a coward she'd been in ever sense of the word. Too scared to revolt but also too scared to bake cookies and play nice. Too scared to do anything.

"If you brought me a bomb I'd blow the whole training center up with me inside. But they'd just build a new one and there who will be there to blow that one up?"

Kass turned back to the door, prying it open and looking down the stairwell.

"Keep holding onto that dream though. I know it made me feel better."

She let the door slam behind her.

table by griffin