thecapitol | Living just for dying

Entry tags:

Living just for dying

Who| The Ψiioniic & Harley Quinn

69problems
What| Returning to the Capitol and catching up
Where| D9 common area; D12 Signless's room
When| 6-15
Warnings/Notes| Talking about his head being blasted by a wand, talk of mercy killing, talk of suicide, self-depreciation/self-blame for not being strong enough, language

Harley Quinn

He hadn't wanted to play their Games. He'd even scouted all possible means of escape his first few days here before inevitably being thrown into his first arena. Yet here he was in the D9 suite common area seeking out his Mentor and bemoaning his loss.

Psii had tried so hard to survive, blinded since escaping the chaos of the Cornucopia. He'd lasted just short of three weeks, mostly in the Catacombs subsisting on bats. That wasn't enough time to put the gifts he'd gotten to real use, he thought. He'd failed both his sponsors and the person he was trying to protect.

"I fucked up," he greeted her with no preamble, afraid he'd cluckbeast out. Everything tumbled out of his mouth in a hurry. "I wath trying to thave a friend, every goddamn thing wath trying to kill uth.... I'm thorry." The words themselves could have had bite, but his dejected voice deflated them.

Harley would understand, right? She'd told him she'd lost a friend in the arena, something Psii had just died trying to avoid. There was always a chance someone might not be brought back when they bit it.

Signless

He gave Signless's door his usual double-rap. When it opened, he cocked a finger and thumb to his own head in the shape of a gun, though a magic wand was what really did him in.

"Boom, headshot. Didn't feel a thing," he said in greeting.

A crude way to describe his demise yesterday, but Psii was in a callous mood. When he returned to the Capitol and his restored vision, he laid eyes on Celebrus and Signless's first kill.

Psii remembered bleeding out in the snow of last arena and asking Feferi not to cull him, to give him a bit of time to sort his thoughts. So many dying voices in his visions shrieked in surprise and begged for more time they didn't have. He didn't want to be one of those losers. He wanted to go when he was good and ready, in an act of self-sacrifice, if he could manage it. Maybe some other psychic like him would hear his last words and know he was a hero instead of some unlucky chump.

Surely there was an explanation for why Signless thought it was a good idea to brain him. Surely Signless had some comforting answer to offer with his skill with words.

"Why'd you cull me?"

Psii had gradually started calling Helmsman as himself, instead of stubbornly talking as if they were two completely different people. Psii offered Signless no hardy claps on the back, no friendly pranks or sentimental insults. Just that sentence hanging in the air like a raised spear.

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From the moment he'd seen those few choice sentences nestled almost unassumingly in among the rest of the Capitol dreck, Signless had known they'd be having this conversation the next time they spoke. He'd known there was only so long he could get away with lying by omission, but he'd wanted so badly to just have that whole awful part of his time in Panem behind him.

At the question his look of relief upon seeing Psii alive (and belligerent as ever) faded into a pensive frown.

"It's going to take a long time to explain. I probably owe you all those details anyway. Come in, sit down." He made his way over to his bed, not sitting on it but rather settling himself on the floor with his back against the side. As an afterthought he reached up to where his three tribbles were nesting on his pillow and pulled one (Tribble Will Smith) down into his lap. This was a conversation that was going to require tribbles.

"'Probably'?" He shut the door with a snap. Signless's delay, his qualifier, neither of these boded well. Psii let himself explode over the edge. "Both you and Initiate let me think that all you and Helmsman did wath avoid each other. I didn't realize that included culling."

He spat the word with as much derision he could muster. He always believed his friend thought better of him than some weakling who didn't deserve life. Perhaps if he was in a great deal of pain and was prepared to die.... but he didn't want to think about that. Again.

The cords of his shoulders tensed under his shirt. He badly wanted to go over to Signless's bed and hold the other two tribbles, but that required being near the troll sitting against it. He stared at his coo machines, unsure of what he wanted to do, then paced the room until he found himself glaring at a wall. His hate for his past self had lessened some, but his shadow kept haunting him.

"It wasn't as simple as culling," he says, staring very hard down at the tribble in his lap. It coos softly, and he'd like to think it's aware of how on-edge he is. He hates just thinking about this -- talking about it is worse.

"I first met the Helmsman in my very first arena, before I'd even seen the Capitol, before I truly understood what this place was or that people could come from radically different times and places. I thought it was you, emaciated and scarred and unable to even walk properly, but when I tried to help he barely even knew who I was except that he thoroughly rejected me and everything to do with me. He blamed me for his enslavement and his death and I can't fault him for that, not after he endured thousands of sweeps of torture.

"And then he met the Initiate, and they fell pale for each other, and it was good for him. The Initiate, an indigo, a clown, was able to help him mend his mind when I couldn't. I was so angry, a petty, jealous anger, because I'd lost my moirail because of a crime I didn't even remember committing and he'd found solace with someone else and didn't need me at all."

In a way it's as shameful to talk about this part of what happened as it is to talk about the parts that happened later. He'd acted like such a child, with so little regard for anyone's feelings but his own broken diamond and his martyr's need to be able to fix everyone. Even back then he knew it was selfish, and it makes him cringe to think of how he kept pushing anyway.

"Even when I tried to respect him and avoid him, he was there, they were there, and no matter what I tried I could never be rid of either of them. All I wanted was to be something to him again, you understand? Anything at all."

He pauses, finally looking up at Psii. He's hoping for some sign of understanding. He can't ever justify why he acted as he did, but he can at least explain it.

Initiate had told Psii how Helmsman didn't want to be reminded of the past with Signless. This was not news. However, it surprised Psii to know that Signless had been taken over by the kind of jealousy he'd expected more of from the clown. Psii had even feared Initiate would cull one of them just for being friends again.

"Oh yeah, like hith murderer," Psii cut in. "Nithe job, Vantas. But latht I checked, quadrantth don't cull each other."

He turned sharply, fangs clenched together. It occurred to him that he'd had his back to him, vulnerable. Instinct made him think these things, even of friends, but it hurt to know it had crossed his mind concerning someone he thought of as more than that.

"Don't even think about pulling that bullshit on me now," he hissed. "I won't roll over and let you do it. I'm not that troll anymore, and I won't be again. I'll choothe when I die."

It seemed a strange thing to say, for someone with inevitable visions of all sorts of untimely deaths. So many of them were a surprise to the trolls receiving them. But Psii had a habit of deliberately taking bullets for friends. Surely someday one of them would find its mark. If deaths in the arenas were real, then he'd already done it. His first involved sacrificing himself so Signless could get in the explosion-proof bunker. His second was when he got killed trying to hunt and draw water for an injured Sam Wilson and Initiate. And his third was trying to save Sam again during a confused clusterfuck of tracker jackers, bats, ghosts, bells, and some douchebag with a wand.

"He did choose," he said, and there was a strained note in his voice. "I asked him. I asked him, because he was dying and in so much pain and I thought if I couldn't help him any other way I could at least make it so he wouldn't have to bleed out and suffer for hours. I justified it to myself then because it was done out of compassion and I know that doesn't make it right. I promise, I know, and I know that it makes me a hypocrite who doesn't deserve to preach about peace and nonviolence when he broke his own vow just because he couldn't let go of someone who didn't want him. I know."

By the time he'd finished his voice was very small. So far he'd dealt with the self-hate he'd carried within himself for what he did by steadfastly ignoring it because he knew that if he didn't, he'd crumble. He'd sink back into that dark, frightening place he was in right after that arena and he could't afford that. He couldn't undo it but he couldn't let it invalidate the entire foundation of who he was, or what was left? A listless husk of a troll, waiting to die, convinced he shouldn't even have lived in the first place. He couldn't go back to that.

"After it happened I poisoned myself just to get out of the arena. I spent the next month at least hating myself and wishing they hadn't revived me at all. I don't think it's possible for me to regret what I did more than I already do." His throat felt so tight, like someone's hand was wrapped around it and squeezing.

"It isn't going to happen again."

Sometimes lowblood slaves would pray to Death's Handmaid for release, but Psii never got to see her answer them in his visions. He'd long stopped believing someone would come and end his suffering. He'd been weak regardless as the Helmsman, let his friend down. His nerves felt numb, the opposite of the rush of sensation when he released his psi, and he drifted over like a ghost. He sank down next to him, unsure if Signless wanted to be touched. He looked at the twining plants on his tattoos, supposed to symbolize his bonds with those closest to him.

"You were the one who taught me that life'th more than jutht waiting for it to end."

Psii's shoulders shook, and he wasn't sure if he was shaking in fury or sorrow. This drove home more than ever before that Signless had been through the thresher, and Psii could be perilously close to losing his friend to more than just arenas or rebel skirmishes.

"Don't think I don't know what it feelth like to lothe a friend, to want to die, to kill." His voice broke, "I'm tho tired of all that bullshit coming from every direction, including me. Not you, too...."

Signless did want to be touched, as it turned out. Enough so that when Psii knelt down near him he instinctively reached out and wrapped his arms around the other troll's skinny shoulders.

"No, no, please don't worry. I managed to pull myself out of that hole a long time ago and I've been very careful not to let myself fall back in." He knew telling the Psiioniic not to worry was like telling the sun not to shine, but he had to communicate somehow that this, at least, was one thing he was no longer in danger of. Never again. That was a vow he intended to keep.

"There are a lot of things I have to live for. You, for one."

"Right, and me not living wath part of why you went there in the firtht plathe. Pleathe don't tell me your thanity hingeth on me thtaying alive. I've got to die thometime, though I am thorry if I do it too thoon."

As if he could control that. They always expected Signless to die of old age first, being more warmblooded, but a troll's life was dangerous as well. Psii could very well get hit by a car or gunned down by a Peacekeeper first.

"I'm thorry I flipped out. You keep finding new wayth to drive me inthane." He wrapped long arms around his friend too, not caring how much he smothered him.

"You're not going to cull thomeone unleth they athk for it, and you're ethpethially not going to cull yourthelf when you could thtill do thome good in the world. I keep telling people there'th alwayth a chanthe they won't be revived after an arena death, but no one fucking lithtenth. Don't take that chanthe again or I'll find your body and pluck out every one of your thtupid fathe hairth, and you'll look even more like a tool at your human corpthe party."

He bent and nipped his jaw where his scruff grew, as if to assure him on his threat.

Without really thinking he turned his head and pressed a small, nipping kiss to the Psiioniic's jaw in return. It wasn't meant as anything beyond a simple expression of affection, but it felt like the right one just then. For some inexplicable reason this lanky banana meant a lot to him.

"I won't. Dying outside the arena doesn't guarantee a revival any more than dying inside it. As far as I'm concerned, this the only life I have now. I'm not going to waste it. Promise."

He tipped his head forward and rested his forehead on the Psiioniic's shoulder.

"Honestly, I thought you might take it worse than you did. If that was as much flipping out as you're going to do, we'll be fine."

"You know I burn hot and fatht. Being angry taketh too much energy, and when you pith me off ath much ath you do, I have to find retht thometime."

In truth it was more of Psii's mercurial swings at work, but he really didn't want to hand that to Signless on a platter. Signless had to work a little to get at him, and Psii preferred it that way. He anxiously ran a hand through Signless's hair, pulling the curls apart from themselves. Making his hair look stupid heartened Psii.

"Pluth there was the whole thing about you wanting to kill yourthelf. I'm not going to feel contentiouth when I'm talking about the pothibility of lothing you. The whole point of flipping out ith to have thomeone to flip out at. I can't show you my acrobatic pirouetteth off the handle if you're dead. That'th a real bulge killer."

Where Signless's kiss had been innocent affection, Psii couldn't resist talking crudely. It was part of his irrethithtible charm. Psii drew back to study his face, propping his elbow on the edge of the human slumber pad and resting his chin in his hand.

"If you wanted a longer argument, you should have gone with touching my electronicth without my permithion. That'th alwayth a thure-fire way to pith me off."

"Noted. Next time I want to get your bulge angry with me, I'll go and tie all your extension cords in a knot."

It could have been read as flirting. It could just as easily have been read simply as a joke, a challenge with no real meaning behind it beyond posturing. It was up the Psiioniic how seriously he chose to take it when Signless didn't know precisely how seriously he meant it.

"And stop messing with my hair. It's unruly enough as it is without you making it worse." He swatted at Psii's hands for emphasis.

"Don't you dare. I'll tie your bulge in a knot if you do," he automatically retorted before considering both his word and his life choices. He gave his hair a good ruffle anyway. Signless telling Psii not to do something petty just made him want to do it more.

"Trutht you to ruin what I wath trying to thay, ath." He lazily bapped back at Signless's hands. "You talked about how you wanted to throw your life away. Even if I wathn't your friend—or whatever we are—I'd thtill owe you, remember? Your wordth thaved my life."

He tried to get an opening so he could poke Signless in the chest. "You're more tenathiouth than you think. You're a regular pain in the ath, actually."

He gave Psii a weak half-smile. He could joke and flirt all he liked because it was easier, because it helped ease the hurt they both felt, but that hurt was still there and this was still primarily a serious conversation. He wasn't going to run from that.

"I did want to throw my life away, yes. I did in the arena and I thought about doing it permanently once I was revived. I never did and I never will. Do you know why? Because I have so many wonderful people who care for me, who support me exactly as you're doing now. Your words save my life every time you tell me you'll stay. You have to or who's going to tell me I'm a preachy asshole? It shows that you care. It gives me something to live for."

"You could lothe it all anyway. You care about too many people not to inflict thome collateral damage. Keep it thafe here." Psii shifted his finger to point at Signless's heart. "I could die or turn inthane tomorrow and not even recognize you, but keep me in there, and you'll never lothe me again."

The horror of being the Helmsman was never far from his mind, and consequently, the fear of being avoxed. He had the unique (ha) privilege of being able to see exactly how he'd turn out if he was brainwashed by an empire. The intensity of Psii's stare lost its effect when he sighed and looked down.

"I never believed in that bullshit before, but if anyone could pretherve thomeone in their pump, it'th you."

To Signless's credit he didn't really cry. A few reddish tears formed at the corners of his eyes but that was all. He was so exhausted, so grateful, so overloaded by everything that had happened in the past few days. So happy that he had this stupid gangly noodle by his side and in his bloodpusher.

"I will. I promise I will."

Edited 2015-12-07 01:52 (UTC)

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Living just for dying

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cw suicide/suicidal ideation

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aaaand I'd say we can call this done! CONGRAT