(no subject)

[goldtoes]

[ He didn't even protest when the Peacekeepers came for him.

Leif, five feet tall and eighty-seven pounds precisely, had been sitting at the table tearing bread apart with his fingers and dipping it into olive oil with cracked pepper, an old comfort food, when they banged on the door. He stood, navigated calmly to it, and stared up at them with green eyes that were fearless mostly in defeat more than in bravery. Come with us.]

Do I have time to pack some things? [ Not disinterested, but unconcerned. ]

No.

All right. [ He picks up the bag he keeps by the door and follows them, flanked two by two, a quadrant of faceless danger. They bring him to the train. District 11 will never see him again, but it doesn't matter. He has no one here, anyway. So it doesn't matter. Nothing much does anymore.

He sits against the window though there's no reason to, really, and watches out the window as the rest of his life rolls past and away from him. His vision's good enough to navigate, to identify faces and places, but the fact is that his cornea are so scarred over by now that they look like puddles of heavy cream, just a spill, an accident, something that was never supposed to happen in the first place --

The Capitol comes sooner than he expects, and there was never magic in it in the first place - not before, not as a tribute, not now as a victor, either. Not led in unbuckled overalls and flannel and a plain white t-shirt, not with his quadrant of peacekeepers doubled to a formation of eight that brought him like a well-earned prize, delivered him like a gift. Leif says nothing. ]

Comments

watch my lazy ass use both of my accts in this post LMAO chaos lives here

[gremyr]

[ Though not as wildly popular as tributes and victors tend to be, Rhadamanthys Ward is enjoying the success of his third run as Head Gamemaker. He's fancied by the Capitol, regarded as engaging and promising- but this was meant to be his last year as a Gamemaker. Go out on a high note, explore new avenues, pursue bigger and better things, so on and so forth.

That hadn't quite gone to plan. Now he's agreed to another three-year contract, all because of a single victor.

Convincing the powers-that-be that he should be able to keep Leif had taken some serious effort, but Rhys couldn't take no for an answer. He had to have him, simple as that. Nature itself had decided, they were all just along for the ride.

The peacekeepers keep Leif well-hidden so he isn't swarmed by excitable civilians. They'll escort him to a tall building and on to the elevator inside, traveling up and up and up. Ultimately, Leif will end up in a grand office with a dizzying view. Rhys is also inside- his heart kicks a little faster whenever he finally sees Leif, the sensation of relief and right settling in him when he catches a faint hint of the scent of him. ]

Welcome back to the city. [ He stands, immediately striding across the ridiculously large room with a delighted smile. The peacekeepers are shoo'd away with impatience, and before they even manage to file out of the room, he's herding Leif further inside with hovering hands and barely-there touches to his shoulders. Towards a sitting area with squishy black couches and glass tables, because of course there's an entire lounging space in his stupid, over-the-top office. ] We have something important to discuss, but let's sit first. Would you like anything? A drink? [ He pauses- ] What in the world are you wearing?

IT'S FINE SIS idc i'm avoiding work today

[goldtoes]

[ Someday, that'll be a problem. Someday, when Leif realizes the man who claims to love him who has also destroyed him has chosen to engage in three more of these, it'll become a problem. Someday, when Leif gets selected for a Quarter Quell.

But not now.

His eyes weren't this way, before - they were bright and green and sharp, like bird's eyes, picking out detail and danger. Now, he stares silently at Rhys, sitting across from him, stiff on the edge of the couch with his hands on his knees. ]

These are my clothes, [ he says it like it should be obvious, and takes the time to pull strawberry-blond curls back from his face and tie them into a messy bun. ] I'm okay. Thank you. What do we need to talk about?

[gremyr]

[ While Rhys disagrees on the matter of those being clothes, he only displays his doubt by the lift of a brow.

Who is he to judge, anyhow? Capitol fashions are absurd. Rhys may not decorate himself as outlandishly as some of the other citizens, but the clean, stylishly asymmetric cuts, colors, and materials of his outfits make it clear where he's from all the same. ]

Well, let's start small. Do you remember me at all? [ His head tilts as he watches Leif's face, blank and strange, though perhaps it's the eyes that make it so. Rhys does regret that they had to be damaged. His eyes had been so mesmerizing before, such a unique color...

How bad is the scarring, he wonders? He leans his body to the side as he sits, which could be dismissed as yet another nonsensical Capitol behavior, but he does it to watch Leif. See if the cloudy eyes track the movement. ]

[goldtoes]

[ Leif follows him, tracks him with his eyes like prey might follow a predator. He'd walked in unassisted, but that could've been the escort of Peacekeepers - this time, he turns his head so that Rhys doesn't escape his field of vision. ] Of course I remember you. [ He huffs a tiny laugh, bitter and chilly. ] I think anyone in Panem would be a liar if they claimed not to know who you were.

[ It wasn't like the Games were a minor event, after all. Leif's father had been a tribute. He knew how these things went. He wants to marvel over how soft the couches are, how he could sink into them and just melt away, but there's a sharpness of alpha in his throat and his lungs and he's nervous, even if he doesn't show it. Is this even nerves? Curiosity, maybe. ]

[suncut]

[ Rhys tilts himself back upright, pleased to see that Leif at least has some sort of vision left. His injury is only a minor inconvenience! Wonderful.

Leif's almost-laugh is followed by one of his own, a short little release of breath and a polite smile. ] I suppose you're right, but it's temporary. Gamemakers change frequently enough. I'm only a flash in the pan. [ For now. Rhys is ambitious- he'll return to the public eye, just in a different way.

And three extra years later than he'd wanted.

It's fine, he reminds himself. The deal got him what he wanted. ] For what it's worth, I am sorry about your eyes, truly. You realize it was nothing personal, don't you? [ It had all been an unfortunate coincidence- Rhys' style of directing games is unique, encouraging occasional audience participation through the use of real-time votes cast by citizens of the Capitol.

The votes just happened to be in favor of deploying toxic gas in the area that Leif had been at the time. Pure rotten luck, and Rhys had cursed quite severely under his breath after those results rolled in. ] Really, I thought you performed well. [ Performed. Like they'd all been playing pretend, putting on a skit. ] I kept a close eye on you and did what I could to help. [ What on earth is this leading to? ]

[goldtoes]

Are you? [ Leif sounds doubtful, and despite his size there's evidence of roaring flame that has been dulled to a smoldering ember - but it's there, still, nonetheless. What good is it now? It hadn't saved him. Not really. What had he gotten for it? One could argue, sure, that he's in the Capitol, in the Gamemaker's office, of all places, being complimented - doted on, even - but the way things work in Panem means he's not sure if that's something to be relieved or terrified by at this point. ]

I don't know that performed is what I'd call it. [ His jaw tightens a little, out of anger more than anything. ] ... How do you figure.

[suncut]

[ Rhys hums, nodding in a somber way even though he can feel the waves of irritation radiating from Leif.

Or, again, maybe that's just the eyes distorting his perception... He likes what he thinks he sees though, because he's found Leif intriguing since day one. A clever little soul full of fire. ]

I can't give away all of my secrets. But know that I always wanted you to win. [ They are secrets, and should stay that way purely because he'd pulled strings that could get him fired and punished if they were ever discovered. In the control room, he'd done everything he could get away with without being obvious. And while Gamemakers were forbidden from betting on the tributes, there was no rule against anonymously sponsoring one.

Reckless things all for the sake of destiny. ] I've been drawn to you ever since your group made their debut, you know. [ He pauses then, simply staring. Watching Leif process, if that's even what's going on in that pretty head of his. ] Do you understand what I'm telling you? [ He may not- he's young, still. Rhys may need to be more blunt, or even explain the whole damn concept altogether. ]

[goldtoes]

Well, I thought I did, and then you went and made it sound... [ Weird. Different, somehow. Like it was more than an issue of Rhys just taking a shine to him, which - he wasn't entirely stupid (at all, actually, he was wickedly sharp with what he'd been permitted to know) but he certainly wasn't about to overlook something like that.

Anyway.

Leif purses his lips, a combination of listless and annoyed all at once while also attempting to not look... entirely too much like someone'd salted his sugar, because this was, after all, the Capitol. Reckless, too. In a different way. ] I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.

[gremyr]

[ Well, shit.

Rhys sighs, slow and long, before deciding to try again. He shifts his weight on the cloud-like couch, crossing one leg over the other in an attempt to get more comfortable, because they might be here for a while. ] Biological matches. Usually people choose their own mates, but sometimes nature picks one for you. You're mine. [ He lets the news rest there... and then his eyes narrow, just slightly. Suspiciously. ]

You know about those, correct? About what you are? [ Surely he has to know. Surely. The districts can't possibly be that ignorant, can they? ]

[goldtoes]

[ Leif raises both eyebrows at him in a silent display of that distinct teenage skepticism, head slightly tipped to one side. If he'd had a friend, it might have been a glance exchanged with them, can you believe this guy? but instead he simply mirrors Rhys' position and crosses his legs, hands folded atop his knee. To look more proper, maybe.

Even as he talks, with an accent that is distinctly District 11, southern sticky-sweet. ] So, again, [ he sounds, tired, frustrated - not at Rhys, but at himself, for not knowing things, for playing into the hands of a stigma of stupidity. ] I have no idea what you're talking about.

[gremyr]

[ Oh. No... ]

Leif.

[ He has to take a breath. Slow. Steady. At the same time, he closes his eyes- suffering silently for a moment. The corner of a pale grey eye twitches once he opens them again, and he plasters a strained smile on his face.

This is fine. ]

Have your parents taught you nothing? [ Good god, what sort of disorder has he been living in? Rhys should be thankful that he'd felt the pull, he supposes- Leif never would have been liberated from the backwards, uneducated place otherwise. ] Alphas and omegas? Puberty? Anything at all?

[goldtoes]

Well, they're dead, [ he says it quite matter of factly, tipping his head to the other side, ] so no.

[ One a tribute, his father, at eighteen - just before he was born - and his mother some years later, in an accident. It didn't matter. He knows a lot of things, of course, but the logic and reason behind why the universe had chosen him, specifically, for this kind of ridiculous tragedy was beyond him. So, too, was this whole alpha and omega bullshit. Another fact he knew was that he lined up once a month for government-assigned injections and they jammed a needle into his arm and sent him home again, and he was maybe sore for a day or two, but there was no way to make that connection there. ]

pats tag that is as babby as leif

[gremyr]

[ That was, apparently, not the answer he'd been expecting to hear, because he's quiet. Confused- which is obvious in his voice (whenever he speaks again) and on his face, if Leif can even see well enough to make out the details. Rhys had heard that mortality rates in the poorer districts were high, so it shouldn't be a surprise. And yet... ] Who looks after you?

shh it's fine it gets the job done

[goldtoes]

[ Leif shrugs. ] My boss, mostly. [ Can he call them a boss? He's not sure. He assumes so, there are still things that have to work a certain way - there are still employment hierarchies, even in the way Panem works. ]

My boss, at the orchard, and the other workers. I mean, I was already working when my mom died, [ how old could he have been - three? four? ] so it wasn't that hard. They make sure I have food, things like that. Let me take things from the farm sometimes, if I really need it. Bread. Milk.

[gremyr]

[ It's a horrible story.

Rhys' face remains blank, despite the pinch he feels in his chest. If it were any other tribute, any other omega, then maybe he wouldn't care- but this one is his own. The injustice of him being alone is upsetting. His desire to protect kicks strong, and Rhys has to expend actual effort to keep himself in his seat.

He exhales, letting himself soften and calm. There's a lot of work to do here. ] All right.

[ One thing at a time... Maybe it would be easier to demonstrate. ]

Humor me for a second. [ He's not in his seat for much longer- he moves off the couch, crossing the space between the both of them in order to kneel directly in front of Leif. His forearms rest against the edge of the couch on either side of Leif's legs, though his fingers never touch them. Rhys is close enough for Leif to easily catch his scent, but makes an honest attempt to not smother or come across as threatening. ] Take a minute, then tell me what you can sense about me. What goes through your head?

[ Leif can take all the time he needs; Rhys doesn't mind staying rooted and admiring him from here. ] There are no wrong answers. You may not feel anything, since I'm sure you're still getting your shots, but try.

[goldtoes]

[ It doesn't seem to bother Leif as much, saying it, as it bothers Rhys to hear it - but then, at sixteen, he's had long enough to adjust to the fact of things. Rhys has just learned about it, here and now, and it's a lot to process even if the person telling you it doesn't belong to you. ]

All right. [ Parroted. He lets Rhys move in without protesting and uncrosses his legs, closing his eyes. He's pretty up close. Prettier, too, without his face spattered with blood and smudged with dirt, on the screens, from the arena - he's soft, with sharp, birdlike features and a permanent pout, dusted with freckles that you'd have to get this close to see. He hums, lazily, somewhere deep in his chest, but he's thinking about it. It shows on his face, mouth tugged a touch to one side. ] Hm.

[ It takes a little while. He reaches down to grasp Rhys' wrist with his fingers, pressing his thumb to the vein, gentle and thoughtful. ] Butterflies, [ he says, finally. ]

[gremyr]

[ As lovely as Leif had been dirty and bloody, Rhys has to agree. He's much prettier this way... He gets caught up in counting the pale freckles dotting Leif's skin, until he speaks. Then Rhys is spellbound by the movement of Leif's mouth, desperately wishing he could touch plush lips with his own.

He refrains. If nothing else, his time as a Gamemaker has taught him patience. The necessity of waiting for the right time.

But having patience doesn't mean he's any less distracted. ] Butterflies? [ The word comes out muted, puzzled, though it draws a strange little smile out of him. Maybe he gives that impression from the way the pulse in his wrist jumps? It certainly does a lot of that when Leif is involved. ]

[goldtoes]

Mm. [ Leif is thoughtful, still. Is he supposed to feel something? Is this supposed to spark some kind of magical awakening in him? He feels very little of anything worldshaking, certainly. He thinks about whether or not he's somehow doing this wrong. ]

You asked what I felt. Is that not the right answer?

[gremyr]

I told you, there's no wrong answer. [ It was a cute one, that's all. And promising, perhaps... ] You'll learn to get a read on other people, your senses are just dulled. Once you're off your shots you'll see what I mean. Everyone you meet will be different, though. Sometimes it's positive. Friendly, romantic, familial, things like that. Other times, not so much. It all depends on hormones and such, and how your body harmonizes with the input it's getting.

[ Carefully, Rhys turns his wrist, mirroring the touch Leif had given to his pulse point. ] For me, you're pleasant. You're fresh and light, a little sweet, and that appeals to me. So you're a pull that I can feel in my chest. It makes me want to be near you and take care of you. [ ...To put it in the simplest, most mild terms. ]

It's a natural thing that happens between alphas and omegas- which you are. Your mother likely was, too.

[goldtoes]

[ Leif is silent and thoughtful, still. This seems to be his way of things, quiet and calculating, and maybe that's why he did so well in the Games regardless of Rhys' help - perceptive and evasive, he spent more of his time stepping silently through tree branches than anything else. The anonymous sponsor, of course, kept him fed and hydrated. Obviously. ]

I see. [ And then his brain puts the pieces together, and he twists his mouth in something not quite a frown. ] So that's why I lived. Because you weren't going to let me die.

[gremyr]

[ Rhys huffs in an amused way. ] I'd love to take all of the credit, but no. You weren't going to let yourself die. I did what I could through loopholes and environment manipulation, but otherwise my hands were tied. I couldn't interfere if you were to make a mistake on your own, or if someone came after you. [ Like the last competitor there at the end, the one who had rushed at Leif with all intentions of beating and burning him alive. He hadn't been able to stomach looking at the screens until that encounter was over. ]

If we'd been properly bonded, though, then yes. I'm sure I would have gotten myself killed because of you.

[goldtoes]

[ Leif considers this possibility, rolling it around in his head. He wonders how much input Rhys had, how much influence over his very survival. ] It was an accident. [ Winning, he means. He stayed far away and kept himself alive quietly and alone, until he suddenly couldn't anymore - when an alpha came at him baring teeth and snarling that he wasn't going to die before - well, before, and Leif had run him through like a hunter might an animal.

Then there's the matter of bonding to mull over, so he does that, too. ] Properly bonded.

[gremyr]

Accident or not, it's over now. And you're here. [ Rhys manages to make that sound entirely too god damn cheerful, unintentionally salting the wound with a reassuring pat to the side of Leif's knee, then he stands and wanders off.

He'll need to pour himself a drink from his pretentious little liquor cabinet before he even fucking begins to cover bonding. As of now, he simply responds with an mhm. ]

[goldtoes]

It's not really over, though, is it. Not for me. [ Because it isn't that simple. He's a baby, he's never even had a heat and he doesn't even know what they are and he's killed someone from his own district, and seen worse. He still sees it when he closes his eyes and he wakes up screaming and smelling gas and flame.

He sits and waits patiently, but allows himself, now, relaxed, to begin to unwind - to toe his boots off onto the floor and sit, crosslegged, on the couch, backing into the cushions rather than perched at the edge as if he was preparing to need to bolt, with his hands in his lap. He watches Rhys, too. ]

May I please have some water?

[gremyr]

[ How polite! It's absolutely precious. Rhys smirks mid-pour of his drink, something a wild sapphire-blue, before he prepares a water for Leif. He delivers it as well, handing the drink over the back of the couch to him. The water is likely cleaner than anything he's ever seen in 11, complete with chic little spheres of ice tinkling against the glass. ]

Of course it's over? [ Instead of returning to his place on the opposite couch, Rhys stays near Leif's. ] You've won. You'll spend the rest of your days in comfort. [ What else could there be? He thinks it over, sipping his blue-thing. ] Well, I suppose you'll be expected to mentor, but that's only once a year.