trigger warning:
suicidal thoughts
ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ
𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆
❝ both the good and
the bad could be engraved
yet the ink of the bad had
always sunk deeper than
the good. ❞
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘭
𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺-𝘧𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴
𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺
PREJUDICE DID NOT TAINT DEATH.
It mattered not that one was born into gold or copper, silk or hay. It mattered not that one was a slave to dictators, forced to beat their bodies black and blue simply to make them grin sickly. It mattered not that one held a whip in their hands, tainted with the flesh, skin, and blood from the victim whose back was torn apart. It mattered not whether one resided in the Capitol alongside the tyrant or the District alongside the fallen.
The death of the Chimera distressed three the most, regrettably yet thankfully one less than the fall of the lovely Angel as no one should ever suffer such an untouchable ache. Naya had never truly known Slate; they were just as good as strangers. But that did not apply to the rest of the Barone family. While two leaned on each other as they mourned and shattered at the death of their eldest, one laid on grime and dirt with her body crippled and life slipping. All three's faces were splotched with red patches and tears, but the lone one was bursting angry boils that seemed to want to rupture with the slightest touch.
It was just like six years ago. Only now, one child remained.
"We'll be okay. We will."
He had said that the night before the d-day. They were never meant to be okay. Ever since the death or Oro Barone, tragedy and breaking were set in stone like the Sword of Excalibur. Only for them, there was no one destined to pull it out of the pit of impossible, no one to pave a new for them. They themselves were too helpless to change it, hands ties and eyes might as well be blindfolded.
Agate Barone breathed shallow breaths as her crusted eyes squinted under the stark sun. Sound had long left her, but not the quivering of her body. Electric blue turned dull and drab—glossed over with a pale and solemn grey that removed anything bright and lively. The numbness finally came and the girl held on to it, afraid that if she let go, the pain would return in an unstoppable hurricane that destroyed everything in its path.
A chant repeated in her head—alone, you are alone. The pathetic picture of Enobaria and Brutus standing as guards on her side as she buried her face in her arms or as she shut her eyes so tightly that red dots, that reminded her of blood, invaded the vast darkness did not come true.
She did not catch the distant sound of chatter or the loudening crunching of leaves as a figure approached the source of the scream he had heard. It grew louder and louder until it was enough to catch Agate's limited attention.
Her heart leaped with joy when a shadow loomed over her, but free-fell when the familiar face of Finnick Odair appeared. He would not kill her. Even with her eyes partly closed and voice lost, he recognized the wish she desperately pleaded for—to follow her two brothers to the Garden of Eden. His eyes reluctantly swallowed the her withering state, a state he had been in mere moments ago.
Broken gazes locked and the tempting concept of following through death, they both understood. "Is that it, then?" Finnick asked.
Parts of her face trembled as a smoke of scorn swirled around her. It was ominous. Then, it all stopped. A movement in the corner of his eye caused Finnick to cast his attention away from her hollow greyish-blues. The index finger on her left hand twitched, vying for attention. Coiled around its base was the golden ring Haymitch Abernathy had described to him, the ring he spotted on Agate's finger the night he was given his bangle.
His words snapped Agate out of the gloomy reverie. If she was not allowed to perish, she would get revenge. After all, that was what she promised menacingly two nights ago. Her eyes hardened, wrath mingling with her woes. The electric blue did not jolt back to life, darkening instead. How had she been so foolish to forget her own vow and want to fade instead? How had she been so foolish to let herself dive into a pit of quicksand and wait for starvation and dehydration to chew her from inside out? How had she been so foolish to not fight for her fallen brothers and take revenge on the Capitolians?
Finnick lifted her body off the ground wordlessly, face creasing at her pained groans and grunts. She closed her eyes, mot wanting him to see her watering eyes. Weaving through the branches, he tried his best to prevent anything from touching her. He mumbled, still looking forward, "Sorry."
They revelled in the silence, neither awkward nor comfortable, just a silence that let them sink into their forever-fractured thoughts—one filled with guilt, one with anguish, both with raging revenge. They were like active volcanoes whose craters had already exuded smog and smoke, spat out molten comets, and it was only a matter of moments before lava spilled over and annihilated cities and lives.
As they emerged from the dense tree line, he felt Agate's body tense even more than it was, no doubt a fear, perhaps hope, that the people he left with wanted to kill her then and there. Katniss and Peeta's head snapped towards them, eyes squinting in hate and suspicion at the body Finnick carried. However, their sneers and hisses were not voiced as Finnick lowered Agate into the cloudy pool.
That was when the screams started once again.
Worse than the fog, the water pinched together her skin, erupting the boils and releasing the liquid. Fully submerged in water, everything burned from her toes to her scalp. She writhed in pain in Finnick's tight hold, body thrashing and legs kicking. Her screams bubbled air into the pool, causing her to almost choke on the water as it rushed in her open mouth. Everything burned, inside and out. Agate clawed at his arms and hands, trying to escape the stabbing agony he put her in.
His jaw was taut and his eyebrows were pulled in for he shared her pain. Finnick fought the urge to let her go and run out of the water. "I'm sorry," he forced out.
Milky white spread from where she was, growing less opaque as it diffused out. The waves calmed as the pain lessened and her thrashing gradually vanished. Agate's hand went to Finnick's shoulder and with a gentle push in her back, the water let go of her aching body. Immediately after getting back on her feet, she pulled her hand away as though his being was a licking inferno.
"You good?" Finnick asked, his hand lingering on her elbow.
She merely looked at him for two second before trudging though the pool and resting her back on a tree a distance away from Katniss and Peeta, who was still scrutinizing her for any signs of hostility. Eyes still lingering on the woman, Finnick could have sworn that behind the illusion of her not responding, there was a small yet distressing shake of the head. Closing her eyes, she muted everything out. Her eyebrows curled as she exhaled, I'll avenge you, both of you, like I should have years ago.
Although they whispered, Katniss' scoffs, Peeta's confusion, and Finnick's attempts of futile reassurance reached her ears.
"What is she doing here?" she hissed, her braid tossing and she harshly pointed at Agate.
"You said not to trust the Career Pack," Peeta added.
"She's not much of a Career anymore. Her brother died in that fog, just like... Mags," he struggled to say the name.
"That doesn't make her trustworthy. You think just because he died she'd give up on the alliance? I call bullshit. She tried to kill me! You! All of us!"
"Not anymore. If you can't trust her, trust me."
The two from District Eleven stared at him with looks of disbelief. Almost nothing could get through the two about this matter. Almost. Groaning in exasperation, Finnick approached Agate and held out his hand.
"What?" Agate spat out, peeling her eyes open and upon seeing his hand, she sneered, "I'm not going there."
He almost wanted to chuckle bitterly, but simply stated, "I didn't ask you to. Give me the ring."
Agate frowned yet relented, tugging the golden band off and slapping it on to his open palm. His fingers instantly closed around it, snatching it close, and he smiled at her. At the sardonic nature of the gesture, her lips curled distastefully and she glared at his retreating figure. Not matter how tempting it was to throw a knife at his undefended back, Agate was a woman of debts and he had just saved her. Only when he tempted to kill her, will she be able to return the favor.
Besides, if she wanted to drag a blade torturously slowly down the alabaster snake's jugular, see his black blood drip down the metal, and stain his white handkerchief, Agate needed them. Unfortunately, she needed the Mockingjay and the deadweight's help as well. So, she cracked her knuckles tauntingly.
Katniss saw the whole ordeal and snapped as Finnick made his way back to the duo, "See? That look is the look of someone bloodthirsty and she is exac—"
Her words were stuck in her throat for a familiar ring came into her sight, held by Finnick to her direct line of sight. Her breath was stuck in her throat and the airway closed off. A soft shudder rippled down her spine and a look of apprehension flooded in, soon replaced by seething rage. The girl stormed to where Agate sat.
Upon hearing and feeling the angered stomps, Agate lazily opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow at Katniss. When the girl was about to lunge at her, Agate stood with red warning blaring in her ears, hand already clutching her chakram, and eyes sending a frightening glower. However, a broad body blocked the Mockingjay from strangling the Reaper. Peeta turned on his heels and glared like a kitten at Agate, "Where did you get this?"
His voice was a distant echo as another screamed in her ear. It's all because of you. Had you not been so weak, he would have escaped and lived another day like you did. His blood is on you hands, as was Oro's. It's only a matter of time before more spills and stains your fingers.
She sucked in a breath and clenched her fist. Stop it, she snapped.
It giggled and sang a merry tune, hmm... you know it's true...
Her gaze was glazed over and when Peeta repeated the question, the voice disappeared. However, it whispered, poor little Atha sitting on a tree, she's going to push someone to death...
I'm not, she said to herself one last time.
Now, finally realising that three bodies stood opposite of her, Agate took a subtle defensive stance. The voice clouded her thoughts, the grief. Her rationality was fading as the new graphite path of unreasonable fury stacked over the erased healthy mind.
The second stage of grief: the lashing flames of anger. Anger caused aggression and defence turned to offence.
Like a cornered dog the size of a teacup, she hid the quivering of her body with barks. The only difference was that her bite actually caused agony. "Would you look at that. The deadweight's defending Catpiss," she deadpanned, scoffing as a small grin made its way to her lips. She then tilted her head sideways and cooed, "How sweet."
In the corner of her eye, she saw Finnick shake his head in disapproval, only for her to scoff at it.
"Where did you get this?" Katniss asked once more, voice shaking.
"Where do you think? That greaseball's incredibly kind when it comes to gifts. Gold and all."
Agate Barone was a part of the Rebellion and it had a difficult time sinking in; at least, to the two from the eleventh district. Finnick had come to terms with it the morning after he spotted her with that ring, after a sleepless and thoughtful night.
Katniss growled and went to lunge at her, slipping past Peeta's body. It was a mistake.
She was the one without a weapon.
She was the one with less training.
She was the one who was easily carried away by simple things.
The last one was almost laughable. It was Agate whose wailing shadow took complete control of the steering wheel.
Instantly, the chakram in Agate's hand went to the side if the girl's neck. Sharp and threatening to pierce her skin, it caused Katniss to stop in her tracks and Peeta to grab his abandoned machete a distance away. All the while, Finnick remained silent and watchful.
As he returned to where Katniss was standing on the fine line between life and death, he froze at Agate's words.
"Don't move, Bread Boy. You don't want your fiancée to bleed out, do you? Or would you rather join her to death?" Agate sneered as she moved the weapon slightly deeper into her skin. She mockingly drawled out the title the Capitol had given the Mockingjay, not once believing that it had been true. They might care for each other and perhaps loved one another, but that kind of love was not the romantic kind Caesar Flickerman droned about.
Ominous rustling sounded. Three pairs of eyes flickered to the muttation that pushed down a tree branch, its fellow lingering close. Leaves brushed by each other yet the sound was subtle. Their movements were so silent that it was deadly. Rabid beady eyes stared down at the four tributes, fur glowing under the moonlight as if they were heaven-sent. Truly, they were hell's creations.
Agate's breath got stuck in her throat. Freeing the teenager from her headlock, she gripped her chakrams tighter. Just as she escaped one curse, she crossed paths with another.
As Katniss retrieved one of her arrows and placed it in her bow, Agate crouched down to grab the second of her twin chakrams. Actions slow and wary, her stiff muscles contracted as her calves bore all her weight. Her eyes remained pinned on the muttation and widened slightly as its friends came one by one.
Grunts and the soft thuds followed as more muttations landed on nearby perches. They circled the group, mimicking how vultures would caw above rotten corpses and a lion cornering its poor prey. Finnick bent and swiftly took his trident, the three prongs defensively facing them. Despite the recent feud, the Mockingjay and the Grim Reaper made a silent agreement on the plans as they looked past the foliage and to the waters.
Water splashed, a murky and dark color—so dark in the night light that it seemed black, the infamous ominous shade. Agate's feet sliced through the tension of the surface, creating small ripples that might as well be a tsunami. Her head craned and her eyes roamed the trees, high and low, attempting a headcount on the muttations.
There were too many, more than thirty. With their modified bodies and aggressive minds, they were currently perceived even more dangerous than fighting off the Career pack. Snarling, growling, and baring its sharp fangs, Agate could not help but acknowledge the fear whose nails dig into her heart.
"Peeta," Katniss hissed and her eyes went over to the muttation
"Yeah?" he replied, still oblivious of the muttation baring its fangs behind him.
"Walk over here slowly."
As the boy furrowed his eyebrows and titled his head, Agate could tell that he was confused as to why they kept on glancing to something behind him. She shook her head and glared at him, wordlessly screaming, no!
Being the fool that he was, he shrugged of her warning and looked back. The muttation screeched in his face, causing him to stumble back with his heart on the forest bed. He stumbled back and If the situation was not so life-threatening, Agate would have laughed at his idiocy and not let him forget the moment for the rest of his life.
"I told you," she hissed, gesturing him to come closer. This time, he did as she said.
The growls and cackles heightened with the number of noses scrunched in a menacing snarl. Fists pounded on the ground and shook tremors as they touched the waters. All four huddled together, back to back, weapons raised. It was a gladiator's match—the muttations being the chained animals with drool dripping down their snouts, them being the beat-up and enslaved gladiators, Snow being the ruthless King of Rome.
Agate was shoulder-to-shoulder with Finnick, sleeves brushing against one another. Despite it being such a small thing, it calmed her hammering heart the slightest. As their eyes went from one side to another, one muttation to another, they met for a fragment of a second. In each other's peripheral visions, they remained.
"Get to the beach," Katniss stammered, words sure yet tone frightened.
Just as they turned around, several muttations blocked their path and clawed at them. Scanning the muttations, Agate took note that a close-range approach would not work the best, so she switched one of the chakrams with a throwing knife. Her hand moved slowly and with calculation, alert for when the muttations decided to pounce.
They screeched and they lunged.
Saliva sewing together their rotten fangs and the smell of death matting their fur, two muttations pounced at Agate. If the woman had not been prepared, she would have stumbled back and fell to her doom instead of taking a small step back for brace. She threw the knife at its left eye, blood gushing. It instantly dropped dead.
The other kept on lunging. As soon as it jumped within range, Agate slammed her chakram at its neck. Its windpipe collapsed, artery cut into two, sheets of muscle ripped, and cartilage broke at the sheer force concentrated at that thin blade.
Arming herself with more knives, Agate fended off more of those forsaken muttations. Without breaks, she launched three knives at the creatures, each cleanly piercing one of their manic eyes. Her hair slammed against her back and her water came up to her thighs as it splashed in great waves.
She grunted and huffed, her stamina and body yet to be restored to their former glories. Her muscles and joints were straining and creaking. In her exhaustion, one of the muttations slashed its claws at her calf. Hissing lowly, Agate pushed down the pain and immediately brought it down. Blood gushed from the three gashes.
A deep grunt was heard from her left, as well as the sound of something squelching and splashing. She glanced over for a moment to see Finnick with his trident deep in the chest of a muttation. However, as he recomposed himself, the Siren failed to capture his balance as another pounce at him. The three blades on his weapon pierced its chest and life evaporated like boiling water.
Seeing his disadvantageous stance, two muttations lunged at him. Finnick barely fended off one before he the teeth of the other buried itself into his shoulder. They forced open his skin and refused to let go. The pain was almost unbearable and the man tried his hardest to push the abomination away, his hands locked around its jaws in an attempt to rip them off. He stabbed his trident into its abdomen, but it was not enough.
The muttation only snarled monstrously and clenched even more, making the man let out an agonizing yell. Agate heard it and quickly snapped shut the muttation that growled its grimy jaws at her. She buried a knife into its wild eye and tore open its jaws. The corpse dropped heavily.
Two dark figures rush past them and knowing the unsaid plan, Agate tugged Finnick up. "Come on!"
He huffed and extracted his trident from the muttation, following the three who had already ran for their lives. They were shoulder to shoulder as they ran, charging past starving muttations and taking them down without an ounce of guilt. In fact, each time one died in its own blood, they bathed in their victory. However, that little jump was always cut down by another life-threatening snarl or swipe of the claws.
Agate ran the furthest behind. She could not see what was happening, but she heard the panicked yelp of Bread Boy and a growl, then the subtlest groan as she neared the fallen tribute. Her hair was black and matted, kinked and oily. The strands were now soaked with her blood, seeping out of her neck and dripping down the locks. Agate saw the face glitch back and forth to her brothers' faces, both Oro and Slate. The younger's peaceful smile and the older's panicked eyes kept in flickering.
Bile accumulated in her throat. Acid burned her tongue. Her lungs were grasping as much air as possible as her chest began to heave heavily. The Reaper darkened eyes were shaking and her head was drowning in the bloody snapshots. A high note rung in her ears again with Slate's muffled groans. She did not even feel Finnick take as grasp of her wrist, his hold gentle yet hastened.
Warm hands cupped her face, holding it together as if it would break spontaneously and bringing it up from its drooping state. "Hey, look at me," he repeated with a soft voice. The smirk was gone from his face and a frown replaced it. It truly did not suit his handsome face.
He forced her eyes to connect with his. She peered deep into the pools sea-green, looking for something that she would never find—the usual hardened affection that once belonged to Slate. Not finding it, Agate looked away and sucked in a deep breath to bring herself together. Suck it up.
Her legs brought her body away from any warmth like it was punishing itself. No, she did not deserve it. She did not deserve the warmth of life, only the coldness of death. The chant repeated like a broken record as she walked away and left a worried man on the damp shore.
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3750.
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i'm alive! sorry for the long
hiatus. truthfully, i've had this
chapter in drafts for what felt
like forever but it was rather
hard to write, so i ditched it. i
finished it and it's better late
than never, right? hehe ( ~ v ~ )
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