My spirit aches...

[the_marshal]

WHO| Wyatt and all the insomniacs.
WHAT| Avoiding sleep.
WHERE| The Lounge
WHEN| One night, so late one might call it early, before the crowning.
WARNINGS| Some talk of nightmares, but nothing too terrible.



Night time was the worst. While the sun was up, while he had people and things to distract him, he could push the bulk of his troubles to the back of his mind. But at night, once things had gone quiet and he was alone with nothing but the sound of his own thoughts, they would all come rushing back.

Alcohol helped - took off the edge - but there wasn't a drink strong enough to stop the nightmares. The images that haunted him once his eyes finally closed.

Faces taunting. Sometimes Dora, sometimes Neeshka. Howard. Max. Sometimes a combination. At once beautiful and terrible. Dead and alive. Screaming. Whispering. Blaming and crying. 'Why didn't you do more?' 'Why didn't you save us?'

Sometimes, trying to put sleep off, he would pace for hours, to and fro across the floor of his room. Others he would flee into the training room, throwing knives until his arm burned and his back was sore. Tonight...

Tonight, he sat in the Lounge, a cup of black coffee, steaming gently on the table beside him. His chair turned out so he could lean over a trash can. In one hand he held a lump of dark wood, vaguely familiar in size and shape. In the other, was a small dinner knife.

Painstakingly, he worked the latter against the former. The point digging and turning, putting the finishing touches on a pair of tiny eyes.

Comments

[the_marshal]

Ah.

He hadn't pegged the man as a tribute, but he'd been hoping for a mentor. Escort, maybe. Those he knew how to deal with. But fans, sponsors... what did a man say to those who took delight in your death?

"I'uh heard about that," he replied, as polite as he could manage, an uncertain sort of smile playing around his mouth.

His escort brought up Mr. Nadir every time an invitation came with his name on it. 'You missed the party of the season, the only way to make up for it is to go to twice as many.'

He never went, but the poor thing did try.

"Sounded like quite the shindig."

[neclectus]

He smiled brightly, obviously pleased with the compliment.
"It went rather well, I thought. Exhausting, obviously, but very pleasant, getting to know the Tributes a little better, hearing about their worlds and customs. I think it's important, given how many of you there are, these days, that everyone gets heard. Wouldn't you say?"

[the_marshal]

There was a pause, Wyatt's blue eyes staring up into Timaeus'. Looking for something. Measuring the man before him.

"I'd say that depends on what's bein' said, Mr. Nadir." He exhaled a long breath through his nose and turned his eyes back down to the carving in his hands, the blade dragging in circles, peeling up little curls of dark wood. "And whether or not it's really bein' heard."

[neclectus]

"I think in the Capitol we are very good at hearing, but could use a little more listening," Timaeus said sagely, watching the blade bite into the wood remarkably smoothly, considering. He imagined Wyatt must have had a great deal of practice.
"I think I have a good measure of you, my friend, and I liked what I saw. There aren't many men of good conscience around- though I suppose we are seeing more, now that the Games are that much bigger."

[the_marshal]

"Is that so?" He glanced up again from under the brim of his hat, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise - and just a little doubt. "Gotta say that's not somethin' I hear too often."

A bemused tip of his head. "Most folks seem to find me a might boring."

[neclectus]

"Most folks might be watching the Games for different reasons," Timaeus told him, light and gentle. "Tell me, what are you making, there?"

[the_marshal]

So what were his reasons then, Wyatt wondered, those blue eyes of his unreadable as they rested on Timaeus' face.

"A buffalo," he replied after a beat, leaning back in his chair, hand opening slowly so that the little wooden animal came into better view. "Ain't very good, mind, but it gives me somethin' ta do."

[neclectus]

He smiled, broadly, finding the little carving quite remarkable and quaint, impossibly appealing. "I think it's marvellous," he said, making no effort to hide his reaction. "How do you make sure not to cut yourself? It seems a little hazardous..."

[the_marshal]

He smiled despite himself, that rough, low chuckle slipping from between his lips. This man might have been nothing more than a remarkably talented actor, but his smile was infectious just the same.

Truthful or not, he didn't sense any malice behind it.

"Practice. And patience." He held the carving out, offering Timaeus a closer look. "And always knowing where one's fingers are."

[neclectus]

"Words to live by," Timaeus agreed with a laugh, leaning in to inspect Wyatt's handiwork more closely. It was a little lopsided, true, and one of the legs was definitely longer than the others- but it was cute, and the making of it in itself very charming. Much like the man it belonged to.

"You're not using a picture, or anything? I suppose there must be a lot of buffalo where you're from, for you to be so acquainted with them... unless they look nothing like what you're showing me, of course, and I'm simply showing my ignorance."

[the_marshal]

Something flashed across Wyatt's face, a gentle sort of fondness, wistful, that warmed his eyes and eased the straight set of his shoulders.

"I'll never forget the first time I saw one: big, great shaggy thing, head alone near bigger than I was." He leaned back in his chair, gaze distant with memory. "They crossed right in front of the train, a whole fleet of 'em, strechin' on and on..." a vague smile, "...I thought it was thunder at first, some wild storm, rollin' up on us."

In a way, it had been.

"I hunted 'em for a spell as a younger man. The hides fetched a hella've price back east, and the meat couldn't be beat." His smile softening, fading, he slowly shook away the past and focused on Timaeus again. "You've got some here, in that zoo a'yers. I'll admit I've gone to see them a time or two."

[neclectus]

"I can't say I've ever seen one, beyond your rather marvelous carving, there," Timaeus sighed, mildly envious of the change that came over Wyatt's face when he spoke of the beast. How wonderful it must be, to have such memories that stirred up emotion enough to spill out onto his face, softening it, almost brightening it somehow. "I don't suppose you would be willing to introduce us to each other, some time? I don't think I've been to the zoo since I was a child..."

[the_marshal]

Wyatt's leaned back in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up.

"Ya want me to go with ya?" he asked. Incredulously he glanced around, as if expecting to find that Timaeus was speaking to some newcomer who had suddenly arrived without his knowing.

...But there was no one save him and the sponsor, smiling fondly down at him, and he looked back up with a bemused blink.

He supposed it wasn't that much stranger than the folks who plopped themselves down at his table in the Speakeasy and asked him to teach 'em how to play 'that game with the cards.'

"I reckon I could find the time, iffen that's what ya really want."

[neclectus]

Timaeus's face brightened still further, his smile widening- his eyes filled with an almost childlike excitement. He was quite genuinely delighted.
"That really would be wonderful," he said. "Perhaps you could ask your escort to contact my office, once you've worked out a time that's convenient for you? I practically work for myself, I can rearrange anything on my books."

[the_marshal]

"I'll be sure an' do that," he nodded. Promised.

He was a man of his word.

(And his escort's reaction to findin' out he'd gone and got himself an invitation by the Mr. Nadir himself was bound to be a good one.)