thecapitol | 'Cause I'm just one of those ghosts

WHO| Maxwell and you?
WHAT| Returning to the Capitol and it feels so... well. It has feels.
WHERE| District 8 and around the Tower
WHEN| After the start of the mini-arena
Notes/Warnings| Nothing really.

It had been weeks. The room had sat empty all that time, silent and still and untouched save for the occasional Avox, coming to clean. (As if they could wash away memories. As if ghosts could be discarded with the gathered dust.) Anyone who had been in the Capitol for even a short time knew that the longer a room was empty, the less likely it was that its occupant was going to return.

Smart coin was that Maxwell Trevelyan was long gone.

But then, one afternoon, without fanfare, the door opened and he stepped out, looking little different than he had the last time he'd left it. A little tired, a touch pale, but whole and alive.

That this was surprising, he didn't know. For him, the arena had just ended - in blood and fire, Dorian's scream, the scream of the thing from the trees still ringing quietly in his ears. He didn't know that so much time had passed. That he'd been missing for so long.

So he carried about his post-death business as he always would have done. Seeking out the chair by the grand, bay windows in the common room. Sitting with his eyes closed, face to sun. Silently chasing away the lingering chill of his grave.

~.~

Of course it didn't last. Ignorance might have been bliss, but it was also temporary, and before long the truth was revealed.

It was difficult for him to accept, to even know how to process. There was shock and a cold, heavy, kind of horror that sank and settled low in his gut. How close he had come-- how easily the Capitol wielded its power....

But there was one thing he could do. One thing he had to do.

Setting out, he went of search of those closest to him. To ease whatever concerns they might have had, as well as his own.

They were alright... weren't they?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Maxwell had just enough time to brace himself, slipping into a ready fighter's stance developed long before he'd arrived in Panem, before the Tabris-shaped blur was hitting him with more force than anything her size had any real right too. The move saved them from toppling to the floor, but he still staggered a few steps, a surprised half-curse popping free from him like a cork from a bottle.

"Maker's ass--"

The other half was - despite everything - a small, rough laugh. Emotion deepening it. Sadness, relief, and humor warring in his chest.

Steadying himself, his arms became a mirror of hers, holding her fast, comforting himself as much as her. Alive and real.

"You've rooted out my diabolical plan," he joked wryly when she pulled back. "And I was so certain I could take over the world with that one."

She laughed at that, even as she clung tightly to him. It was loud and unapologetic laughter, laughing that Maxwell was here, laughing that Maxwell just swore and she can't remember him ever using the Maker's name in vain like that, and that he still had that sense of humor. Maybe it's just because so many people were lost that arena, because if Maxwell came back, maybe--

But no. She couldn't do that to herself.

She focuses on who is here, she focuses on Maxwell, giving him a wide grin. "Well, I might just let you do it anyway, as long as you put me in charge of something." The woman gave a quiet snicker, before shaking her head, and giving Maxwell another squeeze. A somber expression slowly took over, golden eyes looking intently at Maxwell. Not many people get a chance to speak like this to someone they thought they lost. There were so many other things to other people she never got to say.

She's not going to lose the second chance.

"...I missed you, Maxwell." She tells him, voice firm. "I'm so glad you're back."

"Who'd of thought the great Hero of Ferelden could be so easily bought?" he replied. His smile was small, and strained around the edges, but there was a warmth in his eyes. He was just happy to see his friend. "I'm so disillusioned right now."

But then it faltered, dimming as she stared up at him. His expression sobering as the reality of the situation returned, like the intruding rays of a too early morning on a good sleep.

"I'm sorry I worried you. And kept you waiting."

"You're just lucky that the archdemon couldn't speak, we might have struck a deal, and then Ferelden would be a speck of dust in the wind." She waved her hand vaguely around, a grin on her face. Maybe if the archdemon agreed to leave the elves alone. And let her keep Alistair. Nobody would've been surprised. Mutter about how elves couldn't do anything right, probably. While darkspawn chewed on them.

When he apologizes, she shakes her head, her grip on him tightening. And she stares at him intently, a smile on her face, but with wear and tear of her own, a sadness of things that she'd have to bare for the rest of her life.

"No. Don't be. I'm just glad that you came back. Not--" Her voice threatened to break, but Tabris was never one to allow herself to show weakness. She'd given herself a week of grieving, and she wouldn't allow herself to cry after that. Not in public, at least. "--Not everyone did."

Edited 2015-09-10 08:45 (UTC)

"I know," he murmured softly. The weight of an age beyond his 30 thirty years pulled heavily at his mouth, lengthening his frown. It deepened the lines around his eyes, dulled his gaze slightly as it went distant, recalling faces. Moments shared. "Cullen..."

He couldn't quite get the rest of the sentence out, the words a bitter sickness in the back of his throat. (Cullen told me. About Alistair. About Dorian. About all of them.) He squeezed her shoulders, trying to bring some small comfort to them both again.

"I'm so sorry, Tabris."

Edited 2015-09-11 11:09 (UTC)

She's been reassured to the Fade and back, heard more sorries than any one woman should hear in her life. But Maxwell means it honestly, and that makes it okay. It makes her actually feel a little better. And Maxwell understands. He knows Alistair, and he knows what it's like to not have someone come back. So she just nods, resting a hand over his own, and gives him a thin smile.

"He's in a better place. They both are. Either with the Maker, or home. Any place that's not here." The laugh that followed had little humor in it. But after a moment, she just shrugged, absent-mindedly pulling her lip. "You should've seen me right after, I was a hot mess. If you need to take time to sort things out...that's fine, alright? You're allowed to hole yourself in your room for as long as you need to, and don't let anyone tell you differently. It helped me." Now she was all better! Ha ha. Ha.

He nodded, because what else could be said. Nothing would bring them back, or send them to join them, save the Capitol itself and no words would budge it if none hadn't already.

"Thank you," he said, hands brushing her shoulders warmly. "I know it's not, wasn't-- the same for Dorian and I, but..." His mouth twisted into an ugly smile, painful and wry. "But he'd be disappointed if there weren't dramatics."

Because that's why he wanted to lock himself away under a warm, liquored stupor. Not because being conscious made him want to claw out his own heart.

"If you want dramatics, I'm sure you can pull off dramatics. I have faith in you. I could help, if you wanted. Let's see. We can go find some hookers, or something. That'd be pretty dramatic." She rubs the side of her face, giving a dry laugh. "You're going to have to top going to Capitol clubs and taking whatever crazy shit they give you and getting dragged out by a woman with glowing red eyes."

She paused, then put her hand over Maxwell's, looking at him seriously. "Just because the two of you weren't married for ten years doesn't mean that you aren't allowed to mourn. Loss isn't something that you can measure out and figure out who's sadder and who deserves to be more upset. 'S not how that works. But you know, if you want to be alone, I can do that. But if you want to talk...Or if you want someone to talk to and not say anything, or you just want someone to talk at you and you don't have to say anything..." She shrugged. "I'll be right here, you know that, right?"

Edited 2015-09-26 05:51 (UTC)

None of what she listed was what he really wanted, not truly, but he knew where her offer came from. Knew that she meant it. And that, more to him than anything she could have done.

"Thank you, Tabris," he murmured. "I... don't know what I want, yet. Other than what I can't."

His smile shifted, just slightly. A little less bitter. A little more honest, for her.

"But it would be hard to forget you. You'll be my first stop, I promise."

"No one has ever accused me of being forgettable." She replied with a smile, patting his hand. "So I'm holding you to that, Maxwell. Now--Who else have you talked to that's here? You mentioned Cullen. I...don't think there's a lot else. We've lost a lot of people." She pressed her lips into a thin line, glancing off to the side. A lesson to them? Who knew. She was tired of second guessing the meaning behind everything. She was tired of a lot of things.

Soon, though. Soon.

"Just Cullen, so far," he replied softly. "I came to see you first. I thought you'd like to know."

And while they had all been close once, the relationships now were different. The bond was changed. Pleasant. Good. But....

Tabris was his friend.

"I'd already made you wait so long."

'Cause I'm just one of those ghosts

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