thecapitol | ( open ) Arrival

Entry tags:

( open ) Arrival

Who| Fíli and anyone!
What| Fíli arrives, and he is still quite lost despite whatever information has been given to him.
Where| Anywhere around the Training Center (also District 6 Suites), let me know in the subject line!
When| Now & during the next couple of days (ICly)
Warnings/Notes| None that I can think of.

FOR KÍLI;

Things happen entirely outside of him, beyond himself. Fíli feels as though he is nowhere at all, words spoken that he does not hear, things placed on his hands that he cannot touch. He demands then he asks, he all but begs, where his brother is, where Lake-town is, but the people around him only seem to answer questions that he is not making. Vague mentions of some games and a battle to the death hover at the back of his mind, but by the time he thinks to ask about those, he finds himself being taken to someplace else.

He does not stay for one second once he is left at the apartment, and makes off to find a way back, or at least someone he knows. He walks and runs, for however long he does not know, screaming and shouting for Kíli, for Bofur or Óin, but there is no one, he recognizes no one or nothing in this place.

It is a fear that coils at the pit of his stomach, settling heavier with each step he takes. How did he find himself here, and why? How is he to return? Panic surrounds him until it is too great for him to keep going and he all but collapses against a wall, sliding down until he is sitting on the ground, legs folded, head resting against his knees.

He can't breathe, and he realizes now that he is also lost.

FOR ANYONE;

All of this may be explained a thousand times over, still Fíli remains just as lost. He has found his brother, but that is as much familiarity as this place brings. He walks the halls and the rooms, everything strange and entirely foreign, and therefore all too intimidating to him, but he does not show it. He makes his best effort to keep his step sure as he peeks into each corner, watches each person that passes him attentively, and opens every door that he does not find locked - including doors to other people's rooms, but it is not as if he knows that.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The thoughts on Fíli's head are too loud and all consuming that he doesn't hear anyone approaching. The thought that he'd never see his brother again nearly chokes him, looming closer until there is no light that he can see, and he is pretty sure it is a thought strong enough to stop him from even moving altogether, too insurmountable even if he should starve and thirst sitting there. He would not care.

But the voice pierces through, just as the touch on his shoulders, and his head snaps up at the same time as his heart jumps up his chest and beats at the back of his throat.

"Kíli," it's almost instinctive how he says his brother's name, and he does not need to command his own body to stand. He is scrambling up to his feet before he even thinks it, and for each step that Kíli takes back, Fíli moves closer twice the distance.

Many a question assault him at once - How are you dressed like that? Is your hair braided? Why are you saying 'no'? - but when he is close enough to put a hand to Kíli's shoulder, and Fíli feels like he has finally found air again, all that comes out of his mouth is, "Your leg..."

The sound of his name from his brother's lips is all it takes to make Kili's world crumble around the edges. No. No, this wasn't supposed to happen, Fili wasn't supposed to ever show up here. Had all the wishing he had done while curled up in dinosaur bones done this? Had every stray thought of his brother while he bled out in the lobby brought Fili here to suffer and die like him? No. No, this must be a dream, a nightmare. He's simply had too much to drink, that's all. It's that strange white liquor messing with him, that's all. Fili's not here, he's not here, he's not here.

"You're not real," he grunts out before Fili's hand touches his shoulder. Kili goes rigid under the touch and tries to pull out of it.

No, no, no. Why can't he think straight? Why can't he just blink Fili out of this dream? Aren't dreams supposed to fall apart when you realize they're just dreams? Fili can't be here, he simply can't.

"This is a dream," his voice takes on a fevered touch.

The rejection in both Kíli's words and his actions slides down his throat like poison, it makes him nearly sick. Fíli can hear his own breath falter when the shoulder slips away from his grasp, and for a second that parting is so unexpected, the distance that Kíli seems to seek between them so foreign that to him it feels as if he has lost the grip on the last solid thing in the middle of a thick mist.

"Why..." he starts but words escape him, they wither the second he thinks of uttering them. Perhaps it is nothing but the feverish state caused by his wound, Fíli thinks quickly. It is the only reason that he can think of for his brother to call this a dream. He nurses that thought for a very brief moment, naively so, but somehow, deep down, he knows it is more than that. Kíli cannot hide anything from him, and that includes the fear that falls splattered all across his face right at this moment.

"Why do you say that? Kíli," he continues and bites back whatever ache he feels, taking steps to close the distance between them again, this time putting both his hands on Kíli's arms. He wishes only that the touch, along with a small smile, will be enough to drive away whatever seems to be scaring his brother so. "It's just me. Fíli."

Every touch makes Fili all the more obviously real, every word, every breath, every glance. It makes Kili want to get sick right there on the spot and nausea squirms uncomfortably in his gut, the fear wildly pressing too hot against his already inebriated senses. His mind races between the two possibilities: that Fili was trapped here with him in an inescapable cycle of life and death, or that Fili was truly a dream. Though he can feel his brother's warmth through his fingers, the presence of his voice in the hallway around them, Kili continues to try and deny it still longer. No, he would not be soon watching his brother die. No, this was a dream, this was a dream, it had to be.

Kili sucks in a breath and blinks rapidly, trying to clear his mind, to focus through the haze of the alcohol, to somehow make Fili disappear back into the dreamscape, but he doesn't. That gentle grip on his arms remains steady and sure. It's just me, Fili.

Once again, he wishes he had not drank so much, that he could be like Thorin and school his expression behind a stony facade, but he had not gotten much practice, really. Everyone here seemed to like smiles and bright, distracting conversation and that's exactly what Kili was good at. His brother's words ring in his mind again amid the swell of emotions unimpeded by his blurred senses. It's just me, Fili.

Hadn't Hawkeye advised to have a friend at the end of it all? That when he died, the best he could hope for was someone to stand by his side? And, when he'd been stabbed and spent his last breaths talking to Mindy also silently wished for his brother's presence, to help him through those painful final moments? If it had been Thorin in the arena, would he have done the same? No. The answer is clear enough despite the fog in his head and he tries to swallow down the fear bubbling hot in his stomach, to emulate their stern-faced uncle even if just for a moment.

"Go home, Fili," he tries to sound resolute, calm, though his voice shakes. He thinks that perhaps the spectre only needs a show of strength and he tugs his arms free of Fili's again.

And then, of course, turns and runs.

He had been so lost when he woke up in this place. He was nearing a desperation that he was not sure how to pull himself out of, he was reaching the edge of something that he did not quite want to think about. In his mind all he could see was Kíli stretched over a table, dying, fading quietly and sinking into the depths of the lake without anyone there to protect him, and Fíli, again, felt useless and pointless; again, his brother fell victim to something because he was not there, because he did not protect him.

Seeing Kíli here gave him a pure sense of relief, something so overwhelming, like a rush of fresh air after being underwater for hours on end, that for that first while, he did not focus on details; he did not even notice the details.

But with each second, with each tension that his brother's muscles gain, with every new surge of horror and panic that he sees flashing in Kíli's eyes, confusion grows in him, and in Fíli's own heart, the notion settles. Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong but it is not about him, he is sure. His brother would never send him away, he would not. They had made a promise, after all. There would be nothing in the world to keep them apart, there would never come a time when Fíli would not find him and that they would not reunite - yet Kíli is telling him to leave.

To go home. Which home, he does wonder.

His feet spring into action quickly and without order, even if Fíli's heart aches with the weight of something he cannot quite understand, and his mind is gone and all over the place. Kíli must be hallucinating, it must be his fever acting up, and oh, he should not be running like that on his bad leg, he will make the wound worse... How can he even stand on his own two feet like that, as if he has no injury hindering him? Surely Tauriel's healing had not been that miraculous.

"Kíli," his tone reveals his own incredulousness at this whole situation, at the manner in which Kíli sends him away almost thoughtlessly. As if it were that simple. As if Fíli even knows how to leave this place. As if Fíli would ever simply turn and leave, even if he did know. He catches up to his brother quickly enough, his inebriated state passing off as feverish to Fíli, and a hand wraps strongly around Kíli's arm, tugging until it forces the younger dwarf to stop. "Kíli! I am not going anywhere without you!"

For some reason known only to Kili's inebriated mind, he thinks that would be it; telling Fili to leave, to go home, would indeed send him away, just like he had been brought here by one selfish wish while dying. So he heads straight for the elevator, having learned its location long, long ago in his own search of the tribute tower, when his curiosity had not been tainted by the memories of the arena, when everything was still so fresh and new. Just as he's about to reach the button, he feels that touch again, the hand wrapped around his arm, and Kili nearly jumps out of his alcohol-warmed skin in an attempt to get away. No. No, Fili's still here, he still feels real. Fear churns even hotter through his senses, his eyes wider than ever despite their bleary appearance. Everything is too hot, his clothes are sticking to him, and the firm hand on his arm only adds to the overwhelming nature of it all.

"Please," he nearly begs when he can manage words again, "Please, go home, Fee. Please. You have to! They'll kill you."

Like they killed him. Fili would die like him, weak and starving and wishing for little more than a warm presence at his side. He would die without a friend there, looking up to his killer for comfort with his dying breaths, wishing for his brother or anyone who might make his passing easier. It would be quick, but it would be so painful, so cold, so desolate. And then he would wake up to repeat it all again or to watch friends pulled into a different version of the spectacle, to be helpless to do anything for fear of losing his tongue and forced into a lifetime of silence.

It's too much to think about. It's too much to handle alongside the heat of his inebriation that is crushing him under its weight. He scrubs another hand across his forehead but it is no cooler than the rest of him. His nausea churns further and he wants to be sick, he wants it out of his system, he wants to be able to think straight, he wants whatever this illusion is to go away. He wants his brother to be home in Ered Luin, at a warm fireside, with their mother's cooking and nary a care in the world. Not here. Anywhere but here.

His brother's pleas only feed his concern and nothing else, each of Kíli's breaths choking him like a rope tied around his neck, making his stomach sick like a spoiled fruit would. He feels unreal beneath Fíli's hands, as if he were too rigid, too cold, turned to stone, yet at the same time not quite there, crumbling and disappearing into piles of dust. He sees the fear in him spreading wild like fire and he finds himself hopelessly watching as it turns him into nothing but ash.

"What?" Fíli does not even know where to begin, where he must start to worry. But he does know that he cares very little for his own concern when Kíli speaks of killing and of something clearly quite dangerous. Fíli is not sure how many minutes, or hours, he was apart from his brother, but it is obvious that it had been more than enough for him to be chased, to be at danger again. Or had it been the fever, oh please, Fíli only wants it to be the fever, because otherwise it means that there is real danger here - wherever they are.

He moves a hand briefly to rest over Kíli's forehead and cheek. There is a little sweat, but no fever.

"Kíli, who? Who has tried to hurt you?" Because his brother is not hurt now, not any more than he'd been before already. But must have happened here that he would think anyone is coming to hurt Fíli.

"Talk to me," his tug on Kíli's arms is gentle but there nonetheless, sure and ready to tighten if he tries to run again. Fíli won't let him. He tilts his head in an attempt to have their eyes meet, to give his brother any kind of reassurance that he himself is not so sure he feels at the moment.

"Please tell me. Please." So I can protect you, is what he does not need to say.

When Fili's hand crosses his forehead and cheek, Kili knows he can no longer deny Fili's presence. No, those hands are so real against his skin and though once they had offered comfort, they now only make the fear roil hotter in his gut, make his innards feel pushed and tangled together. The question that follows makes him try to move away again, but Fili is tugging on his arms, gentle yet firm enough to hold him there as he attempts to pull away once more.

There was no try about the arena, there was killing or being killed, and no number of smiles or distractions could ever pull the reminders from Kili's mind. How some days he couldn't escape his memories, how even the slightest hint of hunger made him panic for fear of nearly starving to death again. Some nights, he could avoid them with enough attention from the citizens of the Capitol and their white liquor. Those nights he usually could not even remember his name and spent the next day wishing he would never see a drop of alcohol again, only to find that he still went back for the only remedy for the poison seeping into his system.

However, tonight the alcohol cannot dissolve all of the panic at seeing his brother again, at seeing him here and guessing what may await him. He looks away from Fili, away from those bright blue eyes, away from any semblance of comfort. In fact, he tries to lean as far away as he can as the fear and alcohol refuse to cooperate altogether and he loses his dinner in a heave. It splatters down against the otherwise pristine tile and even before either of them can breathe, there are avoxes shuffling toward them. Still, on his next breath, Kili continues, his body shuddering as another round of vomit joins the first.

His mind is too full of the arena and alcohol to care much for the silent procession of pale faces, though he fears them and their fate. He still see Mindy so clear in his mind's eye, sweeping steel down at his chest as he hesitates and it bites into him with such a horrible chill that remains with him still despite the overwhelming heat of his inebriation.

And Fili is here.

Fili will face death like him.

He turns his head and a third expulsion of his stomach joins the mess on the floor.

Fíli feels his brother pulling, keeping as much distance as he can, and with each inch put between them, it is as if Kíli is yanking stitches that keep his heart tied together. He cannot fathom anything so horrible that would ever make him want to stay away, to think that either of them would be better without the other, and it hurts more than words can describe to think that maybe Kíli has discovered something that truly makes him feel like that.

Because Fíli is nothing without his brother. It does not matter the situation, it would never be made better by parting from one another.

He is so lost between confusion and hurt that when the first heave comes, and Kíli spills his guts to the ground, Fíli simply stands there in shock. But soon enough he is stepping to the side, wrapping a strong arm around his brother's shoulders and holding him in place while he lets it all out. In these things, that is always the best option, and surely Kíli would feel a little better afterwards.

He does not care much for the people walking around them, simply focusing his attention on Kíli as he shudders and continues throwing up, his other hand moving to sift through his brother's hair, brushing it away from his face.

"It's alright, Kíli." He has no idea if it sounds sincere. He is so worried about all of this, about everything, that he barely has the mind to force his voice to come even remotely sure.

Kili does not feel any more confident than his brother, but he does find his nausea at least partially neutralized by that third heave, leaving all of his dinner and possibly some of his lunch on the floor. Still, as soon as his stomach empties, he feels that ever so slight pang of hunger, his body telling him that he just surrendered his food to the floor. A shudder runs up his spine at even that hint of hunger and he knows he ate the last of his snacks while in the bar. They have to get upstairs, they have to or they'll starve. He shakes his head as he steps away from the mess and the avoxes cleaning it up, regarding them with candid fear as his fingers find the button for the magic steel carriage that would take them to his room.

Them. Him and Fili.

For a moment all he can hear is his heartbeat still pounding so hot in his ears, but if nothing else being sick has at least reduced the overwhelming heat to something more manageable. His breathing leaves his chest heaving as he slowly finds breath enough to plead. Before he can, though, the doors for the elevator slide open with a ding and Kili shuts his eyes a moment in the sheer weight of grief. With another shake of his head, he finds the only thing he can hope for is that when he wakes up, this will all have been some horribly vivid nightmare.

" 's not alright," he murmurs in response before wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He can't find the strength to be firm, to try to pull away anymore. All of the fevered panic is gone, replaced by only an exhaustive weight of the truth.

"I have a room upstairs," he says louder, though he still doesn't look at his brother for the bleariness in his eyes and the remaining hope in his chest that refuses to give up the possibility that Fili is just a figment of his inebriated imagination. Once more he'll tug, but this time he closes a hand around Fili's arm in return for the first time, attempting to pull his brother with him into the steel box.

Even through layers of fabric he can feel his brother shuddering, the breath coming from him in a shiver, and he knows that something else had scared him into springing to action. Fíli looks at the avoxes but they don't seem to pay them much mind, if any at all, yet he is wary of them, only really tearing his eyes away when Kíli is pushing the button on the wall.

Kíli moves with an unsettling ease, even in his current state, as if he's walked these halls many times before, as if he knows this place well. But he cannot, as they had not been separated for that long. Or rather, they had been kept apart for far longer than Fíli would ever want, but at the same time not long enough for Kíli to know any of this.

It all feels too surreal to him, even Kíli's hand on his arm is barely there, still there is no resistance in him to stop them from stepping into the small compartment, his mind not at all registering the space, or the fact that the doors are closing behind them until they click shut, and he turns.

Everything that happens just piles up to his disorientation, and Kíli's own behavior only seems to bring more questions rather than answering any that Fíli might have. If before he wanted only to know where he was and how to go back home, now he wonders why his brother behaves the way he does, why he speaks of killing and dangers and opens doors in walls, pushes buttons, speaks of rooms.

Why he pushes him away, tells him to go back and simply leave him there. Why he thinks breaking Fíli's heart with those words is better than whatever he saw in this place in the short while they have been here.

"How?" is the only thing he can think of asking, his mind too much of a whirlwind of thoughts and doubts that he cannot arrange logically, into an order of priority. He still rests a hand on Kíli's shoulder, like he expects Kíli to stumble and fall at any given moment, even when they are not walking. "How do you know? We have only gotten here."

As Kili moves into the elevator, he drags his fingers across the button for his floor and then steps further into the steel carriage. There's little motivation to move or breathe, much less answer his brother's questions, but it's only then that Kili truly realizes that Fili has only just arrived here, if he is not simply a bad dream. He hadn't planned for this, hadn't even thought through his own path and whether he would kill in the next arena or not. Until now, he had been content to simply sit and be himself, to take all the time in the world to decide, to court as many other opinions as he could. Most of them pointed toward the necessity to kill his fellow tributes in the arena, but he had not made a firm vow to do so.

Not until now. There was no more time to decide, he had to choose his way now, for the hand that rested on his shoulder. Kili would protect him from everything he could, but not only from steel; he would keep every last horror of the arena from his brother if he could, starting now. The only way Fili could get out of the arena was to win it and Kili had the unfortunate advantage of having been killed by the previous victor.

Kili breathes in slowly to settle the nausea, to try and clear his alcohol-filled head enough to focus on this plan, to construct it as carefully as he can.

Which of course he is already ruining when he opens his mouth, "I have been here for three months."

Three long months without Fili, comprised mostly of the arena, but since he got back he had done nothing but wish that his family would never show up, that he would never see them again. It was easier here with relative strangers, though he had quickly gotten attached to them in his way. Ellie, Albert, Hawkeye... there were already so many that Kili doubted he could ever raise a hand against.

But he had to. He had to if he wanted to protect Fili, if he wanted Fili to win. He would have to kill all of them.

A chime sounds from overhead and the doors slide open again, displaying an entirely different floor than the one they left from, but Kili moves just as easily as before, his hand still on Fili's arm.

In a small and closed space, the discomfort and silence that lingers between them is all the more noticeable, sharper like a blade cold. He feels it with a sting to it, and he sees it like a hole too, a big empty space. When he looks at Kíli it is almost like they are standing on edges of two cliffs, a gap separating them, one too large to jump across. His brother seems too much but at the same time not entirely there, and Fíli wants to desperately cling to him, to shake him until there is no split between them, until he feels like his brother is talking to him, and not just muttering words of nonsense as if Fíli were no more than a dream.

Though Fíli has to wonder, even if only for a brief moment, because the answer he gets is so far from any semblance of logic that he cannot find anything else that can explain why Kíli would even say or think something like that.

"No, you haven't," he says simply, but still lost, all the more bewildered upon hearing that. Kíli cannot mean it, simply because it is not possible. They have not been here so long, and even if Kíli had passed out, if he'd slept all that time, he could not have dreamt or imagined that he had been in this place for days, let alone months. "I was with you just a few hours ago, at best."

But Kíli keeps walking, keeps moving as the doors open to a different place. Fíli had seen it happen before, still it takes him a second to remember it before he walks after his brother. He still does not look at Fíli, and that is slowly turning into the thing most difficult thing to handle in this place so foreign.

He wraps a hand around Kíli's wrist instead, clings and tugs in a plea for answers, for comfort, for anything that resembles care or recognition. Anything that may have his brother looking at him. "What is happening? What place is this?"

Throughout the short trip in the elevator, Kili can feel his brother’s gaze on him, wide and searching, but he doesn’t look back. Instead, he keeps his mind focused on the loosely-constructed plan, on not telling his brother anything. Whatever connection links his lips to that plan, though, is so steeped in alcohol his mouth simply continues to spill information that Kili doesn’t want to give. After all, there’s little anyone can do about the situation that would not result in either losing one’s tongue or life. Fili would only worry about something he cannot change, Kili reminds himself when the doors slide open again, when he feels his brother’s grip on his arm, tugging him like Kili had many times when they were younger.

His heart stops in his chest at the memory and he struggles to keep his composure and his silence. He only succeeds at the former.

“The Capitol,” he replies before his fuzzy head can catch up with his lips.

But still he does not look back at Fili and instead scrubs a hand over his face as he tries to lead them toward the stairs around the corner of the elevator. It’s a walk he’s made many times and drunk or not he knows the way with such a familiarity he could likely still find his way back asleep. What he needs more than a bed to flop down on, though, is a cold shock of water to shake away the apparition of his brother, despite how his heart tells him the hand on his arm is real, that his brother is truly here.

“You can stay with me,” he invites all the same.

Fíli tries to take the whole thing in stride, truly. He tries not to think much of his brother's reaction to seeing him, considering that the current situation he has found himself in is far more pertinent at this moment. He tries even harder not to think about how Kíli knows so much when he himself barely recognizes one door from the next. But he feels his heart clenching in a mix of loss and fear, and an all-around concern about Kíli's strange behavior.

"Of course I can stay with you," he answers with a slight sting to it despite himself. Wherever this may be, or whatever they might have gotten themselves into, it is obvious that Fíli will not stand to part from his brother, just like he hadn't before. And they can very well cut his tongue or his fingers one by one, the only way anyone can stop him from staying near Kíli is if they take his life.

His hand moves and wraps around Kíli's, wanting to offer support more than he wants answers right now. Whatever confusion he feels comes as secondary concern when he can see his brother is not well. But he thinks it must be the place or the wound that is making him sick and weak, and no once it crosses his mind that it is his presence there that is making him react this way.

He just needs rest, Fíli thinks, and his own questions can wait for one night before he sees them answered. Though he himself does not think he will be able to get much sleep.

Well that's certainly answer enough for Kili, though it fills his heart with dread. Of course his brother would not want to be anywhere but at his side and while that would usually fill the younger with a nearly arrogant glow, it now beleaguers his hope. This apparition is no more a figment of his imagination than Fili had been back home. When Fili wraps his fingers around his own, Kili's slow but purposeful gait stops altogether. There's nothing in the world that could be more familiar than that, nothing now more painful than the simple gesture of comfort. His chest burns with the touch and soon his eyes join the fire as they tingle with the beginning of tears.

Fili is here. Fili is truly here, not a ghost, not a dream. Once more, Kili's mind substitutes Fili in his place in the last arena. Fili hunched down in a shelter of bones, rising from it when he felt he would die of hunger, unable to lift his armor. Fili talking to Mindy, realizing he couldn't kill her, feeling the cold sting of steel in his chest. Fili bleeding out in the lobby of that horrid museum, looking up at his murderer for comfort while silently wishing for his brother.

All thoughts of taking a cold shower leave him and all he wants is to get Fili out of here, far far away from the Capitol and the monsters that smile all around them, making sport out of killing. But he can't. Kili can't do anything except try to protect his brother from this, from the death and the killing, to get him out of the games as quickly as he can. No matter what it takes, Kili will do it: lying, killing, wheedling, anything. Nothing will stop him from making Fili the victor of his first arena. He would need to talk to the mentors Karkat mentioned: Katniss and Peeta. There would be a way to get Fili out.

Even with a plan in his mind, though, Kili can't fight off the hopelessness that still reigns over his emotions. He hadn't killed a single tribute in the previous games, been told he was too slow to keep around, what could he actually do to help his brother against the odds that faced him?

Bowing his head for a moment, he gestures toward the door ahead of them as he resumes walking up the stairs, "That's my room."

Nothing else, he vehemently reminds his inebriated mind. Don't say anything else about the games. So Kili simply continues moving toward it, biting his lip to keep them shut, tears stinging his eyes. Don't say anything.

He nods like he understands, and he follows as if he has no questions. Holding his brother's hand right now is the only thing he can think of to offer any kind of comfort, and he tells himself that is what he is doing. That his grip around Kíli's fingers is giving him strength and even the faintest semblance of reassurance and joy, all the while forcing himself to ignore how each nerve shakes beneath his touch, how every muscle in Kíli's hand and arm, no matter how small, tenses unpleasantly just because Fíli is touching him.

And Fíli does not know what is happening, he has no notion of what is wrong, so he has the most natural reaction to it all - he blames himself. For some reason his brother is not well, he is miserable in fact, and it is difficult not to think that it is not because of something he's done or said, or that it is not his simple presence that Kíli does not welcome there with him.

The thought weighs heavier in his chest than anything else ever has before, or ever will. His eyes lower to the ground as they keep walking towards the door, not paying any mind whatsoever to his surroundings, strange as they may be.

Kíli does not want him there. From the very first second, he did not want him near. Breathing is a struggle and entirely unwanted when the realization rolls thickly down his throat and lingers in the form of ache at the pit of his stomach.

The room they walk into is similar to the very same he had been guided to when he had first arrived, but he does not pay it a second thought. His whole everything thinks only of Kíli now, and his whole everything turns into a deeper and darker nothing with each second that his brother refuses to do so much as look at him. He tries to swallow some of it down, but he only manages enough to utter his words in a steady manner. "Let me see your wound."

And then Fili does something Kili does not expect. While he leads the way to his room, his brother goes silent and now he too can suddenly feel the distance between them. It's so strange and foreign like the mostly spotless nature of the room to which Kili opens the door. He can't even remember the last time his brother was willingly so quiet. Of course, he can't match Kili's natural propensity to prattle off every thought that entered his mind, but he was rarely such a stony shade of quiet. It unsettles Kili further as he shuts the door behind them and just as silently moves toward the gigantic bed in the center of the room.

Only when Fili asks about a wound does Kili rise up out of his own silence and turn toward his brother in candid surprise.

"What wound?" Kili blurts out despite his efforts to keep quiet, and his hand goes right to his chest where he can still almost feel the sting of steel.

Had someone already told his brother about the games? No, then he would have not asked so many questions. Or would Fili ask them anyway to try and hear the story from Kili's mouth? Kili's mind is set buzzing again with his own questions.

Fíli's eyes remain on the ground for only a moment longer, until his brother speaks and then he looks up. He could not be so delirious that he would forget his own wound, could he? His eyes settle on Kíli's leg, the one that had taken the arrow, but Kíli is moving a hand to his chest instead, and it is only a brief second before Fíli begins asking himself why.

"The one on your leg," he says, and takes a step close, finding his muscles and limbs all the heavier just thinking of reaching for his brother. The taste is sour and unpleasant in his mouth, it gurgles up his throat and makes him feel sick, and he realizes he is scared. He is stared that if he tries to check on his brother's wound, if he so much as traces Kíli's face with his fingers, he will be rejected, pushed away in another wave of cold detachment.

His free hand lingers in the air for all that while, finally settling on Kíli's arm, hesitant and entirely unsure, as if they had not ever touched before, as if this is the first time they stand this close. Fíli hates it. "The one from the arrow you took, Kíli. Remember?"

Edited 2014-04-17 23:23 (UTC)

Still, so much space hangs between them and Kili hates it though he would rather Fili not be here at all. He can't run from his brother, not with the confirmation of just a few moments before. He furrows his eyebrows when his brother mentions his leg, his mind immediately replaying the fight with Mindy and how her blade had been slammed into his thigh first, brought him down before stabbing him in the chest. While he could remember both clearly, they had disappeared when he woke back up in the Capitol. Kili reaches down for his left leg, still frowning at his brother as Fili's hand finally returns to his arm. At first, he continues to suspect that someone told Fili about the games until the word arrow leaves his mouth.

"I've never taken an arrow to my leg," he replies as he shakes his head, not overtly replying to his brother's touch but not pushing him away.

But that simple hand on his shoulder is so distant, so hesitant, and he takes a moment to just watch Fili. Concern bubbles up in his own gaze as he takes in his brother's state, his messy braids. Who had been touching his brother's braids if not him? After all, Kili plaited Fili's mane with a care reserved only for this one task. Carefully, Kili reaches up for the larger of the two braids hanging in front of his brother's ear. The last time he saw them, they were tangled but not like this.

"What's happened to your braids?" He runs his thumb over the uneven ridges until his fingers stop at string instead of the bead of silver. "Your beads, Fili!"

There is something in that moment that tips off to the fact that this, too, is wrong, that Kíli does not even remember the arrow to begin with. It is only after replaying the scene carefully in his mind that he notices, and it is an odd thing indeed - Kíli reaches for the wrong leg. Fíli knows it, he had been the one wrapping linen around the wound since they first stepped out of the river, he'd torn his own clothes when there was nothing left for him to use, and he knows that Kíli had been shot in the right leg.

"Yes, you were," Fíli sounds as confused as he does sure, which is a contradiction in itself yet at the moment seems to work perfectly. He is ready to drop to his knees then, to check for the wound with or without request or permission, in hopes that at least showing it to Kíli will spark his memory. But then his brother is touching his braids with the same confusion that had coated his own voice just a second ago, and he drops that thought for the time being.

"I had to do them myself. You were not well," it is said thoughtlessly, but only because he still does not quite understand that Kíli does not remember it. Not only that, but he has not even lived through it yet. His eyes lower to the end of the braid, where the string ties it together. "Bard's... I think I left them at Bard's house."

Kili furrows his eyebrows further as he watches his brother explain not only that he'd apparently been shot in the leg with an arrow. Of course, he almost laughs when Fili mentions he tried braiding his own hair, but the justification that follows makes Kili's stomach churn uncomfortably again. Who's this Bard? Why would Fili take out his beads in the first place? Kili had made those for him so many years ago. When he looks at his brother, he feels as if he's staring at an entirely different person, not the dwarf he grew up with and certainly not the one who he'd spent nary a minute apart from before he arrived in the Capitol three months ago.

All of it seems so foreign to him, to be touching Fili's braid and not knowing how those patterns got there. Of course, he would never let them get into such a state had he been in charge of them. Stepping a little closer to start tugging the string away, though, Kili catches a whiff of the delightful menagerie of smells haunting Fili's form. Orc, ash, and, if he wasn't mistaken, some kind of animal waste.

"What did you go rolling around in?" Kili grunts as he waves a hand in front of his nose. "Did an orc sit on you after eating some bad meat?"

His brother certainly needed some washing up, if nothing else. Some clean clothes, new braids, and makeshift beads if Kili could think of something for them. Anything, he's quite sure, would be better than the string holding them there.

"You're not getting in my bed smelling like that," he shakes his head, though he's quietly glad for the distraction from the very strange, disjointed conversation. "Off to the standing baths for you."

And he'll tug his brother along again, heading toward the bathroom in the middle of the hallway they just came from.

Fíli watches in a daze as his brother keeps touching his braid, almost detached from himself as he hears him fuss about something that now seems so unimportant. He wonders still why he even braided his own hair afterwards, it had been a lot more practical to simply tie it back. But he had done it, because they were headed to Erebor, and because that meant something. Or was supposed to, at least.

Again, Kíli speaks as if he does not remember any of it. Of course Fíli stinks, he is not surprised. His nose is used to it by now but he is sure his smell must be a most unpleasant mix between dung, sweat and fish. There had not been a time for him to bathe or even clean himself, and frankly even now, he feels that there are things far more important to worry about.

Still he lets Kíli drag him down the corridor, his eyes wandering around the area so foreign to him.

"Kíli," his voice is weak and unconvincing even to him, and he knows well it will not be enough to get his brother's attention. But it is only once they are inside the bathroom, which Fíli does not immediately recognize as one, that he tries again, his hand tugging at Kíli's arm, his voice gaining solid form then, echoing in the cold tiled walls. "Kíli! Look at me."

At first, Kili doesn't see that his brother doesn't seem to be listening to his fussing, but he pays no heed as he drags his brother to the bathroom that looks nothing like he had ever seen before arriving in the Capitol. There were a great number of things he had never witnessed or experiencing since before three long months ago. Already, he feels he has changed, that he must do so more than ever now to protect his brother. His golden-haired brother who right now is still so far away from him despite his warmth underneath Kili's fingers.

Only after Fili tugs back, provides some resistance to Kili's ever-changing mood that the younger turns once more to look at Fili. His gaze is far too bright with alcohol's touch, but there is still a heavy presence of something darker and colder lingering behind the otherwise warm brown.

"I'm looking at you and you're a mess, brother," he tries to play off again, finding what little comfort he could in his brother's presence.

He breaks from Fili's side to reach over toward the buttons on the wall of the shower, pressing a handful of them with only passing familiarity. Still, a warm stream of water from the top of the stall earns a smile from the younger dwarf.

Fíli's confusion is slowly but surely turning into a headache now. He is too far from being accustomed to everything around him, made all the worse whenever Kíli turns on a switch, opens a door, hits buttons to have water spring out of somewhere Fíli cannot even see.

He is sure he is a mess, yet he is not as bad as Kíli was the last he had seen of him at Bard's house. But words are stuck in his throat, because he can see something deep and rotten behind the glow of his brother's eyes, and it is so great, so strong that it poisons Fíli, it eats at him from the inside out. It is not simply a feeling anymore - he knows that something within him has just withered with just that briefest of glances exchanged between them. It dies at the corner of his soul and spreads across his muscles like a shiver of death.

It takes all the strength in him to not give into the weight of that coldness and distance between them, but he manages, though he finds himself resting his back against the closed wall. Finally, he speaks again, though the words slip past his lips scattered an lost.

"But your wound," the first thing is no more than a murmur, aimed more at himself than at Kíli, his eyes on the ground for a moment before he looks back up and continues, his voice a little stronger. "How do you not remember? You nearly-- you had a fever. If Tauriel hadn't come for you..."

He cannot even finish the words, not even in his own head. He shakes them off and drops them entirely. "You cannot have forgotten that."

fastens seatbelt on the feelings ride

please keep all arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times

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