raise them for the slaughter . elegant

[cass]

o p a l .

"Happiness, hit her like a train on a track
Coming towards her, stuck still no turning back
She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled
With every bubble she sank with a drink"

The sun had already begun to set, bowing its head below the skyline and throwing the training centre into darkness. Opal preferred it that way, watching as the long shadows stretched around her, and ignoring the light switches that often beckoned the children she trained like moths to a flame. She’d ended their training session an hour early today, done with their rude comments and their boredom that was bleeding into their inaction.

After the fourth one had landed with a painful grunt on the floor, she had waved them away, unable to keep a flicker of annoyance out of her voice as she told them to leave. It was rare that she was rewarded with a few downward looks of shame or anger, and she found it almost satisfying that she might inflict the same emotions on them as they did to her.

Ky was wrapping up his own session, and Opal watched for a moment, hand resting on her pommel as she leaned against the wall. The air was a little humid, unpleasant against the sheen of sweat that covered her face. He was good at teaching, soft but powerful and Opal was often impressed with the way the kids seemed to listen to him without question. He held an air of authority that warned those around him to not push their luck, to listen as he spoke and do what he asked. And they did. They moved along, one after the other as he pointed to the weapon racks, putting their weapons down with grace and respect that had been instilled right from the start.

Opal smiled, covering it quickly with her hand as she turned away from the kids and towards the centre of the training area. It had almost become custom for the two of them to wrap up their days by sparring, a different weapon each day as they kept their own skills sharp. It was important to not look weak or incapable in front of their students and as much as Opal longed to never hold a sword or any other weapon again, she knew they’d follow her to her grave. Hell, she’d not be surprised if she was buried with one in her grasp.

It made her think of Katelyn, of the poisoned freedom afforded to other districts. She hated it, hated the way she resented the blood-stained children she was forced to raise, but hated that the lamb eyed, innocent ones raised in other districts were sent to slaughter. It was a double-edged blade, one that took from your own flesh as much as it strengthened. No child came out of their reaping years feeling as if they had been able to live with freedom. Their lives were ruled by their parent’s desire for glory or a desperate need to protect their child from a quick death should they get reaped.

She turned to face Ky as he made his way over, Opal stood on the balls of her feet, knowing that their fight would commence at any moment. “I’m proud of you, Ky,” she spoke softly, fingers loose around the hilt of her sword. “You’re strong and gentle, you get the kids to listen to you, and they trust you. There aren’t many instructors who command that kind of respect.”

There would always be a seed of guilt burning within the pit of her stomach, wondering if she could have done more or done better to stop Ky from having to be raised this way. She drew short of a response every time, knowing that there was a single one- the only correct one, attached to her like a blade in her back. She could have protected him by never having him. It was a simple reality of every child’s life within Panem, none had chosen to be born, all were forced to suffer because of the selfishness of their parents.

She wondered if Ky would ever have children, or if he’d be stronger than she was.

elegant

[gamemaker kelsier]

K Y .

I understand why people leave
But leaving seems scary to me

He stares at the ray of sun coming through the upper windows of the gym to touch down in the middle of the training mat. Molten hooves of golden hour sun dance across the far wall and Ky thinks about walking across the mat to open the far doors and leave through them.

Because it's nice outside and he's wasting his time here, fingers wrapped loosely around a wooden staff, gently correcting his student's stances as he moves through them. He can train them all he wants, they'll still end up in a shallow pool, bleeding out through the neck on day two.

It's painful to hope for anything better than that.

There's a wall there now though, a firmness encasing his ribs and he knows it's a bad thing. He knows that it's not healthy, the things that he's feeling. Ky's just finding it hard to care. Apathy guides every thought and he knows what it is, even if he's never said it out loud.

Growing up, he'd been told that it was a heavy sadness, like a weight over everything and that's why sometimes his mom couldn't even get out of bed. To him, it's a vastness. It's a feeling so large that it no longer matters at all, nothing does anymore. Some emotions are still felt but only the strongest can breach the wall. A ray of happiness leaks between loose bricks and the relief at the feeling of joy is so strong it brings tears to his eyes.

But that's only sometimes.

"Alright," he says, tearing his eyes away from the sun, "That's enough for today, clean up and go."

The other kids move around him, flowing past quickly. Sometimes, at the end of the training day, he feels like a rock in a stream. Everyone else is still learning, becoming, growing but not him. He's Ky Earnest, son of a victor and a child who placed 4th. He's stagnant, decided. He's trapped, his prison built before he was even born.

"I'm proud of you, Ky," says his jailor.

Opal has a fake leg and a hand of gold. More recently, a gap where her finger used to be but a ring on the finger beside the space to make up for it. He turns and looks at her briefly before turning back to the wooden staff he's just placed in the rack. It's due for oiling.

"Guess I learned from the best, mom," he says and he offers her a qick smile before choosing a sword to spar with. It was nice of Opal to teach him a profession, even if he'd had to beg her for training when he was younger.

"Do you even have time for this?" he asks as he steps onto the mat, "Kate isn't waiting on a call from you?"

Ky twirls the sword casually, eyes on Opal to catch the exact moment she moves. It isn't that he doesn't want to spar with her. There's just a tightness in his chest, a pressure in the back of his throat and the urge to run and run and never stop.

He glances at those double doors again across the hall.

And he thinks about how easy it would be to step through them and just never come back.

[cass]

o p a l .

"Happiness, hit her like a train on a track
Coming towards her, stuck still no turning back
She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled
With every bubble she sank with a drink"

Opal brushed the comment aside, like the way her fingers pulled against the sharp edge of the blade. She narrowed her gaze, thinking about the phone call she’d had with Katelyn only just yesterday, the sweet words lingered still, a gentle fog resting over her mind. It was easy enough to fall into that hole, let herself be consumed by that warmth. Katelyn was a safety net, a step outside of the cruel reality of her world, she was the escape Opal craved from her own mind. She pulled back, raising her sword as she watched Ky carefully follow each of her movements. There was a tightness in his smile, a lingering look to the door, and Opal hesitated for a moment.

There was familiarity buried within that haze, brown eyes meeting brown as she struggled to fully recognize what she saw in front of her. Ky had long since melted away from the child she had tried so hard- too hard to protect. He was raw, battling scars that were buried so deeply within his heart he felt as though he was alone. A part of her resented the way he looked at her- the way he didn’t. Guilt seeded itself tightly within her being, playing her hand, cards falling as the puppet master tugged them free and she vainly tried to stop them.

It was hard to define her sense of self when it was so distorted by false images. It was so easy to fall back into a routine, to let the words catching on her lips speak for her. She wanted to wash away Ky’s sense of distrust with pleasantries coated in honey but smelled like poison. Buried somewhere within her was a shattered image of the girl she had once been, torn to shreds and shoved back together time and time again until Opal was lost. She was stuck, pretending and pandering, the last glimpse of her steel heart as she drove her own verbal blade into that district eleven kid’s heart- Delroy. He’d probably been right about her; she’d fed into his words and bit back with venom she’d forgotten she’d had.

Maybe Ky wanted to see that? See her ugly so he can match his own? See her darkness so he can tell himself that at least he isn’t that disgusting.

“Do you worst, Ky,” she said, a hardness sliding into her gaze. Show me I’ve raised a killer.

Opal swung the sword, a wide arching movement that teased the empty space around her sword, egging on her victim and begging him to strike. She frowned, burying the aching shards of glass deeper and deeper into her flesh, pushing that pain away just like she had done since she’d found out she was pregnant. The two of them- sides of a different coin, strained and unsure if they’ll ever see what the other one can. Her dear husband was the piece of this puzzle that was supposed to have kept them together. Opal had never been able to fill that role.

elegant

[gamemaker kelsier]

K Y .

I understand why people leave
But leaving seems scary to me

The edge of his sword was too sharp, it seems. Though Ky wasn't really trying to start something with her, it seems she notices the steel in his tone anyway.

And he doesn't know why he's so mad at her still, even weeks after the games ended and the rock on her finger became old news, just looking at his mom pisses him off. It can't have anything to do with the engagement, Ky's not stupid. His father died nearly twenty years ago, Opal shouldn't have even waited this long.

Maybe if his dad had survived they wouldn't even be together right now. Some hick from Eleven and a career from One hardly makes sense, no matter how sweet he was. It was probably doomed to fail even if he'd lived. Judging by how fucked up his relationship with Opal is, his father is probably just lucky he isn't here.

He slips lower, distributing his weight on the matt so that he's ready when Opal finally attacks. They've always been good at sparring with each other, Opal taught him everything he knows after all. Afternoons like these were usually less sparring, more dancing with each other.

"Do your worst Ky," says Opal, beckoning him forwards with the swing of her sword. There's a coldness to her voice in answer to his passive-aggressiveness. He narrows his eyes, even more annoyed. How is it that she can catch his inflexion now when he's spent months barely treading water? Where was she?

Maybe it's right, the things that they say about careers. Like wild animals, they only respond to aggression.

And he doesn't wait for another invitation. Ky takes one step forwards, then runs at his mother, swinging his sword at her from the side. He doesn't hold back, the blade clanging loudly as it meets his mother's block.

He's always been a light fighter, always staying just out of reach and ducking in at just the right moments but the move is loud, direct. There's no joy behind it, just a tired sense of duty.

"Sure you want that, mom?" he asks quickly, pushing down hard one last time before pulling back again. "Don't think you can beat me so easily anymore."

Yeah, maybe she's a victor and all but he's a victor's son and he knows all of her tricks. He's not her little boy anymore.

[cass]

o p a l .

"Happiness, hit her like a train on a track
Coming towards her, stuck still no turning back
She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled
With every bubble she sank with a drink"

She wondered at what point it all went wrong. Was it when she had picked him up for the last time? When she’d decided to prioritise him over her job as a mentor? Was it her choice, right from the start, in choosing to keep him and selfishly bring him into this cold and broken world? If she knew then what she knew now she would never have. But the claws of agony, guilt, and grief had dug themselves so deeply into her heart that letting go of the last piece of her husband had seemed impossible. That choice had never come from strength, it had always been one of a coward.

Maybe that was why there was so much tension between them, why when Opal felt the blow of his blade runs all the way up her arms, painfully into her skull. Opal gritted her teeth, pushing herself away as Ky did the same, building space between the two of them. It felt longer and larger than any crack that had divided them before, built from. Years of resentment and words that neither of them had ever been brave enough to speak.

Opal Earnest was fragile, she was her armour made of paper as though it were the strongest of steel. Olivia had revealed just how easy it was to pull it all apart, where to press to make Opal scream, fall to her knees and beg like an animal. Maybe that wasn’t only a part of herself she hated, but Ky also hated it too.

“I said I did,” she snapped back, the word mum felt foreign, like a thorn in her side as Ky spoke. Opal loosened her stance, gaze narrowed as she took a step back from him. She shook the ache in her arm, moving her sword back into a defensive position.

“It’s going to take more than a sword swing or two- moves that I taught you- to beat me,” she said, a challenge in her voice.

She wanted to push him, why she wanted to thrust her own blade into the tension between them and feel it explode. She wanted to hear him say those words she had often felt whispered behind her back by strangers and family. She wanted to hear what he thought of her, feel him tear into her so that she might finally, finally, finally understand how she can put the pieces back together.

elegant