Scarecrow

"Maybe you’re right." Dorsett didn’t want the man to be right, of course, but perhaps he was. Trust was one of the virtues that was killed during the Games, and it wasn’t something that really grew back. All Victors lacked trust. Even friends, even lovers, even family were never to be trusted again. 

With another small half-attempt at a smile, Dorsett turned away. He looked down at the table of food and scooped up a small chocolate-dipped strawberry. He left the room and the man in it. As he bit into the strawberry, the chocolate let out a deep hidden taste of rose petals.

He knew he would be entertaining company until just past eight, that gave him plenty of time to prepare for his evening with Elius. Although he had no intentions of seducing the man, Jasper was known for treating guests well, and perhaps Eli would become a regular guest in his suite.

"Anything in particular you like? I can make sure an Avox brings it up before you arrive." He tried to sound friendly, an almost too difficult task for the cold hearted bitch he had become. Venom and spite had become his tongue of choice.

But as he pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders, Elius could not forget that the cold sensation trailing down his spine would was unshakable—nor would this man’s advances.  The victor had allowed himself to be trapped.  Clenching his jaw tight he forced an uncomfortable smile, attempting further conversation.  “Oh, uhm, I’ll bring it down myself…” he suggested, shrugging.  All the while he backed further away, eyes growing distant.  

Asher was taken aback by the man’s apparent accusation, though not entirely shocked. He had seen Victors mid-hallucination before, and this seemed to be no exception.

“Yeah, man, I am very real. And Snow…”

He paused. Trying to sum up everything that Snow and the Capitol had done to him was not an easy task. A year ago, he would have made some snarky quip about Snow getting him laid.

But as it was…

“Snow took everything from me. My dignity, my privacy, the person I loved most in this fucking hellhole. He got away with all of it.”

His breath shallowed as he felt the familiar grip of anger tightening around his chest. In truth, he shouldn’t have walked out of those Games, but Snow had wanted him alive. Snow owned him, and the one thing he thought he could have to himself, the one feeling he thought he could have kept with some illusion of being a free man…Snow took it away.

Memories washed over him; the Mentor party, the long hours at night, the sneaking off to closets at public events…

A different rhythm fluttered in his chest, each palpitation a rush of varying intuitions. Piece by piece it was all coming together. And while missing variables continued to cloak themselves in a different time, Elius could almost believe that one day he would not fear the power lurking behind Asher’s composed cover. Still, that was like asking a deer not to fear the hunter. Under these circumstances nothing was out of the question. 

Jaw clenched, Elius wasn’t sure what to say. He never had to deal with these kinds of confrontations so trying to help others was not his forte. Where he preferred to stay to himself, other people had no qualms in relaying emotions. In fact, nowadays that seemed to be his only learned technique of defense—that and backing away out of complete terror.

But he could try…

“Snow will die one day…so maybe one day you can get those things back?”  Oh, now that wasn’t right. “I-I-I mean that, uhm, even if you’re real, that one day maybe y-you’ll be rewarded.” Though he didn’t really believe that. Whether professed to be a saint or high functioning sinner, people were never rewarded for simply existing. To truly survive was to sacrifice humanity and pray for a sliver of sanity.

A terse sigh moved him, his body shrinking further away from Asher. Come to think of it, he didn’t really believe anything this man was saying. Elius knew that he was alive but had doubts when it came to others existing. His fantasy of maintaining perfect balance between solitude and socialization kept him satisfied, but feeling grief was not something he took pleasure in. Instead of responding immediately, he stared far past the man in search for even a small part of context to understand. Perhaps now it was best to just go along with it instead of trying to say something profound. But still…

"Eli," he paused, "do you mind if I call you Eli? You’ve never done this before. I’ve done this a for twenty years. These kids can be vicious, Snow’s puppets. The Games don’t end when we leave the arena, you know that."

Jasper’s voice caught in his throat for a brief moment, thinking of Pema. Her condition worsening day by day. Last he had heard she could no longer feed herself, and before long her support systems were going to shut down. She had fought so hard, for so long, but Pema was finally losing her uphill battle. Snow would yet again take one of the Bahav children.

He also did not drink but refused to say that, since admitting to more error weakened the ground on which he walked around this man.  Nor did he want this man inside of his head.  "I..." he hesitated, catching a quick glimpse of the man's expression and the hand held out in front him before continuing.  "Okay.  But you have to promise me that it'll be some place secluded." Still, that didn't mean he had to touch Jasper.  so shuffling away slowly he nodded. 

“You’re right. He will.”

Asher slid down the wall to sit next to the panicky man. “So you’re gonna let him win? Snow? You can’t!”

He scooted away from the guy, hoping to give him some space to work through his anxiety.

“You give up and he wins. You can’t do that. I have spent the last long years of my life giving into that man. He has stripped me of my dignity; he’s been holding shit over my head since I came out of that Arena. And I’ve let him.”

Asher paused, remembering how Snow had grinned eerily as he placed the crown on his head. A chill ran up his spine as he recalled his slimy voice whispering to him.

You didn’t win this, boy. You’re simply an investment.

“But you can’t do that. I stood up when I could. I fought however I could get away with it.” Lynx’s face flitted through his mind’s eye. “It won’t be easy, by any means…”

“So you’re gonna let him win? Snow? You can’t!”

Instinctively, his head tilted to the side in astonishment.  Surely he hadn’t heard that right…Though as Asher continued speaking it became more and more evident that this was nothing like Elius had previously figured.  So sure that this man would be his harbinger of death, his mind couldn’t wrap around the notion of being safe, if only for a little while longer—since there was always the chance that Asher was only lying. 

But Elius didn’t feel like that was the case here. “You give up and he wins. You can’t do that.” Oh, if only that were true.  

What did he even have to fight for?  He had no friends, no family.  He had nothing to love because that was the one true way to be hurt—and that was something that he could not afford. 

“Is it really worth being hurt on repeat?” he stuttered, eyes furrowed in question at the other.  Elius hadn’t noticed it, but he’d stopped shaking after consumed by his thoughts.  Trying to figure Asher out and listen to the intent of the man’s words had some kind of profound effect—regardless of their validity.  “Besides…I—I have nothing to fight back with.  N-no-nothing is going to stop him from winning every time.”

Daring himself to look at the man, actually, fully trying to get a clearer perspective, Elius saw the weary eyes that laid in the man’s skull.  The smile lines on his face that were probably due to years of forced laughter.  The toned muscles and slight tilt in his spine as he pondered over his own experiences.  The power that this man had and its horrible, consequences disguised as fool’s gold.  The strings attached to his back…

"Listen, I’m not trying to be a nuisance," he tried to smooth the growing tension, "I know you didn’t come up here to talk to an annoying asshole like me. I’ll be on my way."

It started with a lurch in his stomach, the furrowed expression lingering on his face.  Then his head reeled in confusion, a mix of thrill and sheer misunderstanding.  What was happening?  This didn't make any sense.  How was it that Jasper was so easily understanding, apt to reading his thoughts.  It almost seemed like Jasper knew exactly what to say when and where.

Say the words, Eli.  Apologize.  Make this right.

"The Quell, impressive," Jasper said in as normal of a tone as he could muster, "Welcome to the Mentor Games, as I like to call them." He thought it might be a good move to see what this guy had to offer. Perhaps he had access to sponsors, or even the ability to mentor a decent pair of Tributes. It was never too early to find allies.

"The Quell is nothing impressive," Elius shot back, a scowl on his face.  "It's just as deadly as any other Games.  I only got lucky.  In fact, I hardly even remember them now..." he lied, his long sigh an obvious tell. 

Wait.  Why was he telling this?   Why did he, for once, feel that this man was actually someone worth trusting?

The Capitol citizens had no real understanding of the loss the Games caused, they had no concept of what they truly meant for the other Districts. To every Capitolite the Games were a festive pagent, filled with fun and games, food and drink, and valiant entertainment.

"Can’t really blame them, just the way they were raised," Jasper smiled and took a few steps closer to the man, "But us on the other hand, we hold the blame."

Jasper smiled and recalled the glorious moment of his victory, “We made a conscious choice in the arena. We made sure our lives were protected. We made sure no one could hurt us. We killed.” The blood of the lost children may be on Snow and the Capitol, but the Victor’s were the extensions of that power; the true weapons of the Capitol.

On the verge of speechlessness, Elius could not summon enough power to turn and face the man again.  There was something about his expression that procured entropy with each glance, malevolence spewing into existence with each slip of the tongue.  And yet, Elius could not tear himself away from the dark aura starting to envelope him. 

It was the sinking feeling of realization setting in that plastered him still, the truth pulling at his insides.  "No." he quietly protested.  "They're butchers just as we are.  They've had the chance to stop this madness long ago but instead chose to use it to their advantage.  Their means may not be direct like ours," he swallowed hard, the last word painful to loose, "but they are definitely murderers." 

With a grimace forming on his lips, he took equal steps backwards as the other came forward.  While he was in fact intrigued, he refused to allow this man a close physical connection since he somehow figured that his mental likeness would be damaging enough. 

That same grin fell completely, though, when Elius accused Dorsett of attacking him. The thought of “That’s not fair!” jumped immediately to his mind, but he couldn’t quite vocalize it. Perhaps Elius was right. 

Instead, Dorsett quietly said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” His eyes fell to the floor, and he squished a stray crumb into the carpet with the toe of his shoe. “I will say this, though. There’s going to be plenty of people legitimately attacking us during these Games. I hope I can trust, at the very least, some of the Mentors.” Dorsett’s lips thinned, and he quickly glanced up at Elius.

At this point, Elius didn't care whether or not Dorsett watched as he continued this exercise.  As long as he remained in control, all would be fine.  He was not crazy.  He was fine.  Perfectly capable of doing anything he wanted, regardless of what this man or Snow thought.

Casting a glare from the corner of his eyes, he tried deciphering Dorsett's words.  What did he mean by that?  Was this just another ploy to confuse him?  Clicking his tongue in disdain, he turned his gaze back to notice his shaking hands.  Desperately needing time to stabilize independent of so many conflicting thoughts, he exhaled sharply and waved Dorsett away. 

"I can't be your confidant--"  I'd only let you down.  "We can't be friends no matter what he's told you, and you know that, too.  He lies just like you.  I can't trust you...and you can't trust me."  He said quietly, his words a somber admittance. 

"No. Stop. Don’t," Jasper droned out in a dry sarcastic reply, "I need a friend or I’ll jump." He finished with a laugh, took a deep hit off his cigarette, and turned to face the intruder.

Jasper didn’t recognize the face, but by the looks of it, the man was a Victor. He was draped in a rather cozy looking blanket, and Jasper had to admit, it was cooler on the roof than he thought it would be this time of year.

The District Four Victor exhaled hard, “You look prepared for a hard winter, trying to avoid a Snow storm?”

Elius felt his grasp tighten around the blanket as he pulled it closer, his plain gray undershirt hidden now.  He truly didn't know how to address this man but he did know that he needed some response to show strength.  He refused to let the other walk over him.  "Then jump.  You're not going to find a friend here, though I hear the force field gives nice, warm hugs." he quietly quipped, cerulean irises still searching for further support on the ground. 

Unconfident, sharp wit had never been his forte, but then again, conversation in general was a vast gray area.  "Snow isn't a threat if you have nothing to lose." Elius then noted, daring a look at the other man now.  He was tanned, his very expression easily showing his frustration. 

The wind whipped against the tower, but the roof showed little to no signs of it’s power. The force field bore the brunt of the energy, allowing for a beautiful park like atmosphere atop the prison like Victor Center. Perfect for a little break, or in Jasper’s case, a place Tayru wouldn’t dare to go. Even the force field didn’t convince the capitolite he wouldn’t fall over the edge.

Jasper looked across the skyline as the sun began to dip behind the clouds, making it’s way to the horizon. How many times had he stood in this same spot and filled head with the same thoughts, ‘I wish I could just jump.’

He pulled the carton of cigarette’s from his pocket, tapped it against his palm six times, fished one out, placed it between his lips and walked toward the edge. Jasper slipped the pack away and looked out.

"Fuck this place."

Though apparently not everyone lived by that same philosophy.  "Fuck this place."

He could hear the bitterness in the other's tone, full and strong.  Whoever it was truly meant it.  His eyes scanned the place, warily tracing his steps as he moved carefully around the roof.  It didn't take much to see the man stooped over the side, smoke billowing in the wind as the cigarette lit. 

Without much natural thought, Elius was slowly coming up behind the man, stopping shy of five feet away to simply stare.  Forgetting all awareness of reality, he blinked, confused.  Lethargic words slipped from his mouth, a gruff announcement to his presence.  "That'd take too long.  The only way to..." he stopped himself, now fully aware at what he was doing. 

Falling would be similar to flying, would it not? But it would end far more painfully, Elina assumed. At least with flying, you could control when you landed. If you fell, landing would be more of a splat than a graceful touchdown. She wondered briefly whether her nose or toes would break first if she fell of of a roof; and came to the conclusion that it would all depend on whether she landed on her feet or on her face. 

"I don’t believe you!"

Her systems jumped at the sudden accusation, doe eyes wide and for the first time uncertain. “I don’t know what you mean—- I only told you about the roof. Why would I lie?” With each of his words the girl became more and more perplexed. She was not here to hurt him, Elina had only wanted to say hello. Her own victory tour came back to her, and the apologies she had given to each district. “I am so sorry, I never meant to hurt anyone. It was an accident, and I am sorry!" 

The victor whimpered, shaking her head slightly as if to clear the bad memories from the recesses of her mind. “I know you’re a victor, and I know I’m a victor, I’m not stupid you know.” Her temper was beginning to flare, an uncontrollable flame that would either be blown out like a match or ravage everything that she could reach. It all depended on what he said next.

"And I can kill just as easily as you can!"

"Stop it! Stop yelling! I didn’t mean to kill him, I didn’t mean it!" Her voice was nothing like its gentle, calming self. It was a shriek layered with anguish and anger, a cry covered in fury and self-loathing. She hadn’t meant to kill them all, but she had gotten angry. When Elina got angry strange things happened, things that she could barely remember because all that she was able to focus on was her rapidly beating heart. 

And with that, the flame in her belly died. She did not want to let the fury consume her, not here, not now. Not on this beautiful rooftop even if the strange man was hurling words like daggers at her chest.

Blood was on his hands and he would give everything for a second chance.  Although he truly did not know the sheer depth of his past, he could remember the strong fire that once burned within his soul.  It was bright and passionate, willing to do whatever was needed to make others happy—to make himself happy.  Now he was cold, personality reflecting in his nonstop need to feel some type of warmth. 

This girl – Elina – was something he had never experienced before.  She was a free running stream of sentiments, her tattered heart worn on her sleeve.  She was easy to read and enigmatic all at the same time, and he absolutely feared the storm waiting to be unleashed.  Imagining the ferocity of her strength, wondering what she did to become a victor—it was so simple to imagine but the truth eluded him.  Elius knew nothing about her except that she was fractured…just like he was. 

With a lethargic pull, he took in the air surrounding him, inhaling it fully to feel the clarity.  Tranquility tried filling him for a brief moment before the release came, and all at once he was floating.  Untethered from his collective phobias, for the first time in years Elius was experiencing bliss.  It was otherworldly and inexplicable. 

It ended too soon.

He’d now moved to be a few yards away from the girl, remorse brimming in his eyes.  How could he make this better when all he knew was to push people away?  After twenty-six years of practice, breaking tradition was nearly obscene but his heart felt as though it were on the verge of breaking.  Bearing the fault now…it was unbearable.  Why did he now feel so different?  

Hand partially extended, he slowly sat as he was told.  Obeying Elina’s or anyone else’s wishes was not in his nature, but it was something that he wanted to do.  He stared at her, his icy eyes studying her wounded expression, looking for any chance to understand.  “I—I should be the one that’s sorry.  I…I…” Elius swallowed hard, his hand reeling back to his side as his fists clenched.  “I’m afraid, you know?  There are so many killers here and I don’t know who I can trust.  I don’t even know…” he murmured, mind clamoring for the words.  “I don’t even know if you’re real or if you’re just a part of this nightmare.”