atmospheric argon — areto & bubby

[tick 12a / calla]

A    R    E    T    O

The train makes her feel unsteady. A pair of Peacekeeps had ushered her inside when visitation ended, doors shutting behind them with an automated hiss. The gentle sound of the engine starting had made Areto jump, the purr being almost unnoticeable to the Keepers that were used to it.

But it ends up being smoother than sea travel, and it's weird to stand by the window and see the landscape of Four whip by without feeling the sway of inertia. She places her palm against the wall and feels the smoothness of the metal, cool despite the heat outside, with the slightest whisper of vibration.

The Keepers bring her partner into the car and she tries not to wince.

Bubby Caro. A boy from the mainland.

Something inside Areto raises its hackles, Lysippe's words echoing in her mind. She recalls the stories from the girls of the island and the towering mannish brutes that had plagued them. There's a reason men aren't allowed on their island, but it's more for their safety than the Amazons'.

The Keepers leave them alone and Bubby's eyes are red from crying. He looks so much younger than he actually is. Areto tries to feel nothing, she really does. She tries to embody her mother and ignore this boy, but the longer he sits there sniffling, the more her heart seems to crack.

Aren't career children supposed to be ruthless? She's heard rumours of the mainland mentality and all of its pitfalls, but has yet to see it. This boy that sits crying in front of her hardly seems like a killer.

There's a convenient box of tissues on the table and Areto pulls one out, holding it out to Bubby without really looking at him.

"They won't want to see you cry." She says, and it's an olive branch, something they have in common. She's a nurturer, but she's a warrior first, and her guard refuses to lower.

She sits then, across from Bubby, and meets his eyes.

"You're not what I expected." She says bluntly, but not unkindly, "Haven't you been training for this?"

[d4 Panda Scope [Gayton]]

Bubby Caro

---

My, my love had been frozen
Deep blue, but you painted me golden

---

The feeling of the impending inevitability invited  the wrath of my own self hatred. I recited sentences of my goodbyes like lines in a script. My mothers hope, my fathers love, my sisters loss. Alistair’s love. It’s all fading from scene to distant memory far too fast. Any chance of reunification with them smothered by my inability to accomplish. Accomplish victory, death or growth.

The Bubby going into this games won’t make the changes he needs to to survive. Because he’s too afraid.

So I’m shuffled onto the train, and I was crying. Each tear a prayer to somehow be taken from this car to the beaches of home. To see my sister smile again, out of happiness and not false hope.

“They won’t want to see you cry.”

My eyes darted to my district partner. I couldn’t remember her name. She volunteered, and I was  sure she said it, but it was lost on me. I take the offered tissue and wipe away the dam of water blocking my vision. But my cheeks were redder than the burns on the beach and my nose dribbled incessant ooze.

Through a series of sniffles, I whispered, “Thank you.”

And I’d thought to be left alone. But she sat across from me. The room belonged to no one, so I couldn’t unwelcome her. Not that I would. She was terrifying. 

“Haven’t you been training for this?”

I looked to the floor so she wouldn’t see me roll my eyes. I think of Ali. He did, and he was so strong and fit. He’d win this for sure, but he was already so broken he’d never come back the same. And he knew that, and never wanted to come.  Most of the other boys I knew, they were strong. They prepared for this. But I never imagined this could be me. I thought if I was ever called, someone would step in.

I conserved some breath, long enough to gasp out, “Not all of us want to be here.”

Panem always seemed to forget, not all of us are volunteers.

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it
I had a bad feeling