Welcome to Aeterna

"Just…" I trailed off, not sure what to say. The fiddle was squealing an old Autumn folk song, and the cold had sunk through my jacket, and my father was probably going to kill me, and all of these people were about to go hungry. I shook my head, giggling as I wiped my hands down my face.

There wasn't a damn thing I could do about any of it. Sighing and laughing, and swallowing down the dread that was trying to rise into my throat at the same time, I blurted, "You want to get drunk? I bet they'd let us join them."

I hummed for a moment as everything else hit me as well. It was unlikely that this plan would succeed, but people were going to starve regardless. It would take time to fulfill the treaties and get what we needed up to Pineview. We would surely run low on resources before two moons had passed. If life was bittersweet, this was the bitter part.

A sudden laugh escaped my chest at the absurdity of it all, so loud that it made some of the folks below look up to see what was happening. Finnick raised an eyebrow at me in confusion.

"What is it?" he asked.

I smiled at Finnick, pleased that we'd found even the smallest glimmer of hope. At the very least, he would be able to sleep that night. It wasn't more than a minute though before my relief was crushed, and a sinking dread bloomed in my stomach as it occurred to me what that meant.

He smirked, but let out a sigh of resignation. "Do you at least have a pillow I can put under my knees?" he laughed.

"𝘗𝘳𝘢𝘺, 𝘮'𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴?" he cackled, his voice mocking. I burst out laughing at that, a deep belly laugh like I hadn't done in quite a while.

There was a cautious relief shining through it all. Finnick's shoulders sat subtly higher, as if a small weight had been lifted off of him.

"So you're going to try then?" I asked, still chuckling.

I shot him an apologetic look. "The villagers are already begging, and it's about to get worse," I reasoned. "It'll be sooner than later that they won't have anything to eat except us. We aren't in a position to be steeled in our pride."

He nodded, a wry smile on his face. "You can't be a carpenter, so you figured you'll be philosopher now?" he teased.

One had to admire humans and their foolish, hopeful resilience. If this heavy life had taught me one thing in my few years, it was that scarcity in body is no deterrent of joy. Joy is steadfast in the human heart, resistant to hunger, or fear, or even grief. It was as heartening as it was poignant. That was life though, wasn't it? It was all bittersweet.

It wasn't much, just someone's wedding. By the look of it, the villagers had scraped together every rabbit and mushroom they could find, and someone had spent most of their day in the forest gathering branches and enough sweet box to smell from our place on the balcony.

"If they would receive you at the castle, you'd at least be able to mix with the high houses. They might give you the time of day if you're there… or least throw us a bit of pity, yea?" I finished.

"Well, I've been thinking about that… You know that it's Midsummer soon?" I offered. "Right?" he asked. "So all of the southern houses will be in Summersong at the same time," I explained. "You have enough time to make it before the celebrations. If House Vega would receive you at the castle…"

"That's what I said, but he argued that we didn't have anything to lose for it. If so many are about to suffer, he figured we owed it to them to at least try. If they don't need timber, maybe they'd be willing to… send food, perhaps, or at least purchase some goods from the tradesman."

I sighed, cursing Gritty for even putting the thought into my head, before finally suggesting, "Gritty thinks you should go south."

Finnick raised an eyebrow at me, frowning deeply. "South? What for?" he asked

"Go where the gold is," I explained. "Thousands of people are about to starve. It might be worth it to speak with one of the high houses."

He waited for me to continue, but I didn't offer anything else.

"Well we're a pair, aren't we?" he joked. "Just a couple of miserable bastards who can't do a damn thing right."

I gratified him with a chuckle, but there was a twinge in my chest at the words.

"They don’t need us here. Why don't you go get some rest?"

"I couldn't if I tried, Al," he said, finally looking over at me to shoot me a reassuring smile. It didn't reassure me, but I thought it was a valiant effort given the state he was in.

It was obvious to me that he'd been awake for days, consumed by care, though he wouldn't say as much. That was how he was: never a complainer, never a burden, never one to pass his troubles off to someone else. That was probably because I was enough of those for the both of us.

"Are you sure it's mine?" I said softly, furrowing my brows at him. He hesitated for a moment, letting his eyes float over the crowd of people below before shrugging half-heartedly. "Have you slept at all, Fin?"

I envied the folks twirling, and those laughing, though I shouldn't have. How selfish was it to envy those we knew were about to starve? To think it a freedom to not know what was coming? But by the Autumn goddess, I would have given anything in that moment to be so blissfully ignorant.

A makeshift fiddle was singing brightly over the beat of an old drum, and I was dizzy from the men spinning the women round and round. It was one of the rare days in Pineview when the clouds broke apart, revealing the golden light of our sun that stayed always down by the horizon.