Grief's Arrow [Olivia & Katelyn]

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

O l i v i a

Standing eye to eye
Pretending we're alive
As we grow colder
And oh
The devil that I know
Is better than the devil that I don't

The boy from two had won and cheated death once again, and all was right with the world.

Our high council went about having its parties and laughing about whatever they could fit into their pretty little heads while the rest of us truly worked to keep the wheels of this empire turning. They’d been elected and stuffed into chairs far too big for any of them – what did they know about running a country that had ground down the bones of children and boiled what remained with their blood to keep all of it functioning? Some of them were game makers, some of them the sort of timid hearted folk that’d never last a day with real power, and those that just wanted another ounce of fame.

None of them had what it took to make the hard choices, let alone understand the alarms that should’ve been sounding.

No, this was the tragedy of President Snow’s death. For as stubborn as the old man had been, he could at least know when to send in the hounds to rip the flesh off the bones of his enemies. He did not care about who he hurt or what he had to do in order to keep the capitol safe and Panem united.

I think about how a decade ago, no one could conceive of a rebellion against the powers that be. There had always been the fools conspiring on the fringes, but the virus had spread from these dark and distant realms so that for the second games in a row, they spewed their bile on screen.

You didn’t really think I wouldn’t have taken notice of Delroy Wickersham, did you? Talking about how the districts could come together and throw off the chains of their oppressors to usher in some new sort of utopia.

It’s all so cliché you can’t help but laugh. Every time, they talk about fighting another war, spilling blood, and shattering the capitol as though when the dust settles, there won’t just be another that rises up to strap the chains back onto their necks.

That’s what boys like him would never understand.

People are not good and honest. They are covetous and selfish.

When the choices are to work to death or to starve, they will choose safety and security over ever having to put their neck out for another. And why? Because they cannot bear being on the wrong side. They cannot live without what gives them comfort, even if it means turning their backs on friends, lovers, and family. Every time, they will circle one another, defend those that they know will hurt them all so that they stay safe. It’s as close as any of them will ever feel to love, as it were.

Their own victors will not stand for them. Even Delroy knew that, attacking Katelyn and Kassandra for never standing against the capitol (it was such good fun watching the recordings).

But we can’t let them walk away from this with just the usual scars.

You don’t leave embers to burn and start a fire. You stamp them out until nothing but ash remains.

The rain starts early in the morning. A soft, gradual pulse of droplets until by noon it’s a torrential storm that leaves puddles along sidewalks and fills up the storm drains. A tired gray December day, too warm for snow and yet still a tantrum rages. Perhaps it’s what gave me the idea to send a note to Ms. Persimmon. Perhaps she was baking away her troubles. Though if her cakes and pies were anywhere near as bad as her mentoring, then I’d have to decline ever tasting whatever retched concoctions she managed to make.

I’d always loved the aquarium.

The dark lighting and dramatic vastness of the tanks holding all manner of strange life. The way that predators swam so freely next to their prey. That in an instant, you could watch the miracle of life, of strong devouring the weak. A proud shark making mince out of a school of tuna, or even the lesser fish slicing another to bits. A natural order to such chaos, confined within the beauty of a secure space. All of them locked together, existing in perpetuity, so long as those that cared for them kept the water clean and their needs met.

It’d all fall apart so easily. Turn the degrees up and you kill whatever is inside, save for the hardy few. Leave them without the food they’ve grown so accustomed to, and they’ll start to turn on one another. They needed the boundaries and rules to keep them safe. To keep existing.

I stand under the lowlights staring at the tank off the main hall. A few puffer fish slip by, followed by a swordfish. The clock reads just after one, and I know it won’t be long. She would never choose to keep me waiting, not now. And if she did – if she defied my request? Well, there were more than enough souls that could pay her price back in eleven.

Silence builds save for the sound of water gurgling and whooshing alongside the glass. Few have stopped celebrating from the end of the games. Others were still nursing their hangovers, too tired to bother with idle amusements like this.

The double doors along the far sound of the wall click, but I don’t turn my head. I stare up at the expanse in front of me.

“I trust that you are doing well.” I say to her. A wayward snapper ambles into view. “Tell me. After their performances, do you feel proud?”

elegant

[charade]

k a t e l y n .

"I pretend, I pretend
I pretend 'til I bend and bend
'Til I’m broken
Are you broken?"

The boy who died and lived to fight again. Katelyn had had her eye on him from the start. He had made fourth place on his first go around and he’d only been twelve then. Shy was a bit of an odd duck, not one for talking, but then he’d had to live through the trauma of the games twice. Who wouldn’t have a few eccentricities after that? She wished him well, wondering if he’d find kinship with Annie or Lysander.

Olivia asked her if she felt proud.

It was a trap, that was what it was. No right answer, just a way for anything and everything to be misconstrued. Over the last year or two, Olivia had made it clear what she thought of Katelyn; idealistic but willing to make the smart choices.

There was nothing to be proud of, she almost said, wondering if that line of thought would cause the woman to twist her words further. Or perhaps twist a knife she was keeping in her purse.

“They were never going to make it home,” she said after a moment, watching an orange and white striped fish swim in a little circle. Some species she’d never learned the name for. Education in eleven only briefly covered things like geography and biology. Not much use for that when the government was training them all to be worker drones in the fields. “Maybe ten, fifteen years ago I’d have been proud. Before I learned how things worked.”

Before she’d learned that idealism could not remain unchecked. That a boot would come down on a neck. It was a daily struggle for her. There was a deep desire somewhere in her soul that longed for something better because it knew better was out there. A desire that was ever at war with the calluses surrounding her heart from all the hits she’d taken over the years.

Snapping about what Olivia wanted her for was unnecessary.

Things felt fractured. Opal had been distracted, distant since the proposal. It made her sick, wondering if she’d erred, done something wrong. Katelyn knew that people drifted with time and friends never lasted forever. She’d made her peace with that though. She had her memories, the good and the bad.

Everything ended, whether a person fought for it or not, sometimes time was simply up.

Didn’t make it hurt any less though.

“Too many underdogs nipping at the Capitol’s heels and the whole country is liable to get fleas.” The admission was bitter on her tongue, but she felt that she’d spent enough time in the Capitol over the years, dealing precisely with people like the Secretary to understand how they thought.

Delroy, and to a lesser extent Neysa had been some of the most problematic tributes from eleven in recent years. That the final four had had tributes from five, ten and twelve had no doubt made some important people uncomfortable. Shy’s victory had been a cause of celebration, ending a victor dry spell of over two decades for the laughingstock career district that two had largely become.

Katelyn turned away from the aquarium to look at the shark.

Olivia wanted something, that much was obvious. Something beyond continuing to be a “proper” victor for the cameras. But Olivia liked to play her little mind games too and usually danced around the point for a bit. It was all theater of course, for whatever reasons made sense in that twisted old goat’s head. There was something she wanted her to do or perhaps some punishment to be meted out.

If not barbs about her relationship with a career mentor then something about Delroy, if Katelyn had to guess. She’d anticipated that his treasonous speeches—the parts that had made the broadcasts before getting cut off at least, would result in a reminder that such things could not be tolerated. Because who was fostering that type of thinking? It takes a village to raise a child as the saying went and—

Katelyn sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She could feel a headache starting to form.

“How can I be of service?” she said dully.

elegant

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

O l i v i a

Standing eye to eye
Pretending we're alive
As we grow colder
And oh
The devil that I know
Is better than the devil that I don't

Bathed in the light of the tanks cerulean glow, Katelyn Persimmon is much smaller than she was just a year ago. No fresh-faced glow of a love renewed. No hopeful words swimming around in her head from some fool who’d never see the world as he should have. No fellow victors to mend her now, not well enough to save her from what was coming.

I want to see the way her shoulders hang and hear the sadness lurking at the edge of her voice. The way the pain has seeped through her to make toxic all the rest of what she could see – that would be enough to know the job had been done. But there’s still too much hope there, a willingness to somehow believe even after her charges had come close to snatching yet another crown that she shouldn’t have been afraid for her very life. That every last one of them from eleven should’ve known better than to let Delroy disgrace the capitol and call for independence.

‘Maybe ten, fifteen years ago I’d have been proud. Before I learned how things worked.’ Does she remember what that felt like, all those years ago? That they could have ever imagined what would have happened if either Neysa or Delroy had won? As though they wouldn’t have been killed sooner rather than later – some unfortunate accident on a train ride home. Or some unknown assailant helping them meet their demise in one of the lower districts. It’d been so long since any of the victors had died, I wonder if they even knew that they were capable of passing on.

At least the children from the vault had the good sense to show their friends what mortality meant.

‘Too many underdogs nipping at the Capitol’s heels and the whole country is liable to get fleas.’

I turned to crane my neck at her, the hum of the tank next to us ringing out through the silence. It was too cute by half, such an admission. That Delroy had ever come so close when a boy like Shy was destined to return home, that he could have put such ugly thoughts into his head and others, too – that was the real tragedy. They were too stupid to realize that there was no panem without the capitol. Even if they had managed to convince the rest of the world to stand with them, there would have been nothing but ash and dust. For that would be the end of everything.

There would be no surrender when there were those of us who would rather have seen them lose than us win.

‘How can I be of service?’ She asks, and I turn back to the fish in front of us. The slow-moving eel that darts down toward the bottom. A pair of skeets that hover along. Such a marvel how it is all so self-contained, all of them not realizing the water that surrounds them. That in just an instant, the whole of it could be emptied, dredged and disappeared. A whole slaughter that would just as soon have been forgotten as the break of day.

“I wanted you to be the first to know: by order of the Department of Commerce, Weights, and Measures in conjunction with the peacekeeping forces of this country, we are launching an official inquiry into the rebellion activities taking place in district eleven.” It was almost a pity that I couldn’t have made the announcement to the rest of the victors to see which of them would still be standing by her side. When the investigation began in earnest, they all would be to blame for every last word that they had ever said against the capitol.

That is, those that had ever been stupid enough to raise their voices. And we all knew that the lot of them were too busy fucking one another or getting drunk, falling in love, disappearing into fields and dreaming about what could’ve been, praying to some foolish god, divorcing and marrying and all the moronic things they were doing instead of daring to raise a finger. And they could all just as easily have kept on; there were no complaints for those that didn’t ride against the waves or step out of line. A good victor was one that managed to never make much of themselves at all.

“A team of peacekeepers is already on their way to eleven to begin investigating the Wickersham family. They will be considered guilty unless otherwise proven innocent.” Their house would be ravaged, they’d be questioned for hours upon hours until they confessed for having planted the ideas for Delroy’s malfeasance. And no matter how long they held out, they would confess. “I will be standing by to approve the executions of those found guilty following the conclusion of their report.”

But a rebellion was not so easily quelled with the plucking of but one weed.

“However. The inquiry will require a further examination of the leadership of district eleven. Of each of its victors. Of its mayor. And anyone that has been found suspect by the capitol.” I turn then to face Katelyn and stare her up and down. “You will help lead the inquiry with Lieutenant Harlow, who will accompany you all back to district eleven. On his orders, guilty parties will be punished to the fullest extent of the law.”

I bring my hands together in front of me to smooth out my peacoat and smile.

“An example must be made, Katelyn.”

elegant

[charade]

k a t e l y n .

"I pretend, I pretend
I pretend 'til I bend and bend
'Til I’m broken
Are you broken?"

It was the same every year. The weeks following the end of a games always left Katelyn in a glum mood bordering on depression. She didn’t have the energy to deal with Olivia using the type of fire she was known for.

It didn’t help that Opal was apprehensive about such a big change, scared of losing her the way she’d lost Potato. But other than that, all Katelyn could focus on was the pair of coffins she’d be riding home with, that Delroy’s idealism and Neysa’s fire had not been enough to carry either of them home.

Was it greedy of her? To want to bring them home year after year? Four living victors was more than half the districts could hope for. But it never seemed like enough. Even Kass hadn’t been enough of a push to retire as a mentor. Not when she could still be doing something. But what was she doing? Del had forced her to reexamine whether or not complacency was complicity.

So the lofty powers above had deigned to launch an official investigation into the rather obvious rebel leanings in district eleven. Katelyn couldn’t say she was surprised. It was the sort of thing that was only a matter of time. Like the government sending in death squads to eradicate all of the gangs in district nine. It had to happen at some point. Nothing could remain so unchecked forever.

There was nothing she could do for the Wickersham family. What she should have done was force Delroy to understand that his words were a loaded gun pointed at his district and everyone he cared about. Too late for that though. Too late when she was tasked with helping a fucking peacekeeper investigate everyone she cared about.

An example must be made, Katelyn.

If she disagreed, it would be seen as favoring rebellion. If she agreed, Olivia would find some way to twist the knife further.

“Yeah. That’s usually the case.” She said neutrally. It was a very short list; people that could be made an example of in eleven. She could take her lumps, but she dared not mention anyone at all, lest Olivia decide to punish them on that basis alone. She felt like she was in the detention center again. Not in control of her fate but holding on for dear life as the storm tossed her around like a rag doll.

“Lieutenant Harlow,” she said pursing her lips and turning the name over in her head. It wasn’t a name she recognized. Perhaps he hadn’t been stationed in the district before. Some Capitol bred and born man ready to complain about the smell of manure and the lack of amenities in a backwater place like Eleven. She fully expected Olivia to dismiss her shortly, or at least hoped that she would.

“As you say.”

It was a bad thing for Katelyn’s head, having to deal with the woman during her post-games slump.

elegant

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

O l i v i a

Standing eye to eye
Pretending we're alive
As we grow colder
And oh
The devil that I know
Is better than the devil that I don't

Perhaps I should’ve dreamed bigger. She’s deflated, battle lost and already moving on toward whatever task might’ve been at hand. Was it a ruse to get out of the way and think of a plot to save her friends? Or so it was that she’d finally seen the light and knew that there was no winning here.

As powerful as victors may have been in the minds of people, they would always come second to the capitol. That’s what so many of them had forgotten – this wasn’t a life that they were to fill with joy. They should’ve been afraid, and better yet, committed to preserving our way of life so that theirs weren’t threatened. Look at how slothful so many of them had become. Forcing out children, clawing at creating a dynasty like in Ten, or failing to create much of anything like in twelve. At least Cricket had the good sense to become a gamemaker. Would that the rest of them could’ve done their duty and kneeled when they were told.

But no matter. I would make them kneel. 

“He has proved his service to the capitol. A record of loyalty hunting wanderers outside the districts and putting away criminals as well. I happen to think you could stand to learn a thing or two from him.” I faced her then to get a better look at just how she was taking it all in. Katelyn Persimmon was stolid and at times harder to read than the rest of them (a stay in the detention center provided her with at least that grace). With enough of a push, I could see her wearing whites for the capitol. It would just take a bit more to break and shape her into what she could’ve been.

“He’ll join you and the others on the train. But for now, do try to let the rest of your little friends get the message that the party will soon be over. We have serious business to attend to these days, no matter how useless the council has proven themselves to be.” I let the last words escape my lips without a second thought. The cameras would be recording, and maybe one of them might even get a little note with what had been said. But they were as impotent as a punch from Glamour Kinkade. They would learn to be more afraid of me than I’d ever be of them.

“Oh – and do let Kassandra know, I have been planning to have her join me for a stroll.” She’d had an unfortunate exchange with the would-be rebel before the start of the games. In truth, her heart had burned as fiercely as the boy’s, but the edges were far less refined. Better that she had lived and Delroy Wickersham had died. She didn’t fit any of the molds that lay before her – not a leader of the people, not a leader of the victors – just another young woman driven by the impulse to be something, rather than someone.

She needed help reminding where her energies should truly lie. And I could be so kind as to remind her of what that was.

elegant