[CLOSED] insert hipster lyrics here

[saisamour]

Who| Marius, R, Peeta, Shion
What| Suddenly everything / various Capitol logs
Where| Places!
When| Various dates after Arena 7
Warnings/Notes| Pontmercying


// SHION
Marius expects to wake up after his death in the Arena and feels utter disappointment when he does.

He lies in his bed for hours, staring blankly at the ceiling. The tears have long since dried, leaving him with a feeling of numbness. He should not be here, breathing. He is supposed to be in the sky, in the wind and in the flowers that his dear Cosette loves so much. His spirit should have been reunited with her.

Eventually he decides to exchange his bed for the gardens in the Tribute Center, the one that Eva had introduced him to in what seems to him like aeons ago. He manages to rise with some difficulty (it is wearisome, almost painful to force himself to move forward when all he wants is to exist in the dilapidated gardens he once knew as well as his Lark), and drags his feet outside the room, to the elevator, to the spot where the tiny garden is, its plants and trees he recognizes as coming from various parts of the world, still as thriving and blooming as he last remembers it, like nothing ever dies.

A white lily catches his eye and he stares at it blankly. He cannot remember the Arena. Oh, not completely, that is certain; there have been stretches of clarity in his memory, faces and voices of people he had met and assisted, and who have assisted him in return. But everything else is a chaotic patchwork of blood and candy-colors and sand and the blinding rays of the scorching sun.

But he does not want to remember. Let his mind be a blurry haze; it is better than to recall the moments of anguish and torture. So he wanders through the garden, fingers ghosting over flowers, him staring at nowhere in particular with a distant look in his eyes.



// PEETA
The message comes unexpectedly, delivered by Marius's escort, who informs him that the Peeta Mellark is reminding him of their earlier discussion regarding the composition of love letters. The escort seems fiercely determined that he must go, and so the meeting is planned accordingly even before his input is ever requested.

Now in all honesty, Marius does not have the faintest idea why his escort had been fretting over the fact that he was to meet with Peeta, but eventually, and after some insistence that he wear presentable clothes, he finds himself confusedly waiting for said acquaintance in the Commons. He is standing by some rounded tables to one side, politely declining any offer of drink from the Avoxes, and sweeps the room with searching eyes.



// R
Marius cannot remember how he managed to end up in the Commons—he had simply been walking aimlessly, thoughts often-times leaving him to wander on its own, and all of a sudden he is in a busy room full of Tributes and Avoxes and Capitol citizens.

His brows knot in mild confusion, and then he decides to leave before anyone approaches him. In his sudden rush to the exit he does not even notice R until he is a mere arm's length away.

He is only supposed to step around the man he has almost collided into in his haste. But then he makes the mistake of glimpsing his face, and when recognition dawns on him his eyes grow large and his breath hitches, and fragmented memories are suddenly ripped out from the depths of his mind that had kept them trapped: of sand curling up in waves, teeth ripping off the skin and muscle off his arms, and the biting cold of the desert night as his blood paints the sand red.

Marius freezes.

Comments

[shambler]

It's a mirror of that look he caught on Beck's face back in the elevator: eyes wide as a plate, Marius gaping like he's torn between watching the trainwreck in front of him or booking it in the opposite direction like any sane person. It's tricky, talking to someone and remembering what it felt like to look out his eyes. Feel that heart-beat pulsing in his chest.

"I...try," R says. He sways in place, eyes locked on Marius's face. "A...rena. Wanted to say...sorry."

R's throat clenches. He gulps. It's not any easier this time around facing the people he murdered all because he got hungry. You think it'd be easier. He stares at Marius across the muzzle he wishes he had in the desert, feeling like he's looking in on himself. The gunpowder he can almost feel still stinging his nose and eyes. The watering hole, looking up and seeing a monster bearing down in the reflection.

[saisamour]

This abomination is speaking and it is apologizing.

For a moment it seems as if Marius has turned into stone with his look of horror and awe permanently chiselled on his face. It might be understandable, however, for him to find difficulty in coming up with an appropriate reaction. After a while, he finally blinks and shakes his head rapidly, taking a single step back, eyes darting across the floor as if he's searching for a dropped explanation somewhere. "I..."

Well, what is he to say to that? He barely even notices R's own struggles, far too concerned with his own state of disorientation. "It..." He purses his lips. To the monster's credit, it does sound quite remorseful.

And yet he finds it difficult to forgive, not when he knows that this creature has killed others. (And he yanks his thoughts away before they unearth the memory of his own death, so that it remains forever a blurry haze in a locked corner his mind.) Instead, it is a question that leaves his lips.

"What... What are you?"

[shambler]

“Tribute. Rr?” R touches his chest, tapping it again, his hand moving bonelessly. “R,” he repeats and it’s only then he realizes that’s not what Marius is asking at all. It’s not the same “what are you” that Julie breathed once she realized he wasn’t going to eat her. He doesn’t know. There’s no Dead where he comes from. “Zombie. Dead but…still…here.”

Walking corpse, stiff, rotter, shuffler, Fleshie. R’s heard just about every variation out there. “Zombie” seems to be the most popular one, though. There’s a backstory to that word somewhere. He’s not sure if Marius would be interested in a corpse’s gasping take on it, considering he looks like he’s on the verge of – what was it Howard called it? – oh, right. Anxiety attack. Is it a trick of the light or did Marius’s face go several shades paler? He looks almost grey now, wan like he’s sick.

R flops his shoulders up and down in a shrug, trying to think of something to fix this. Aside from the shifting of his grey eyes, something flickering behind them, there’s no expression on his face aside from dim, slack-jawed surprise.

[saisamour]

He does not even know why, but witnessing the struggles of the monster—R—as he attempts to provide an explanation is beginning to make Marius feel an odd sense of pity for him despite his fear.

"Zombie." He takes a few moments to calm himself down, steady his breathing. To tell himself that R's muzzle will keep himself from harm. And perhaps also to confirm to himself that yes, yes he really is speaking to this strange creature. Who happens to also have an actual name. Somehow that transforms the monster before him into something different, having one.

But names have their own type of power after all, such as Cosette, for instance, and how in his chaotic world the mere thought of her name summons a stillness and a calmness that tides over him. The thing before him that he once thought of as a mere threat, a something that must be fought off or killed without a second thought, now has an identity, becomes a someone. Perhaps that thought is what keeps him rooted to the ground.

"I'm afraid do not understand, completely." He frowns, his forehead creasing. "I am supposed to be dead as well, and yet I am still here, and I am in no need of a device to restrain my urges to feast on men."

[shambler]

R watches. That’s his default: staring and waiting. Seems like the best thing to do is let Marius digest, wait for him to make the next move.

“Not...same…dead. Dead.” R pauses to think of a better way to illustrate this. He points at his teeth, then at his leg, at where he’d woken up with a chunk taken out of it. “Di…sease. Come…back Dead.”

He hesitates again, realizing that might not be what Marius is asking – he might be asking what Shion had. Why wasn’t Marius infected, too? Because I cracked open your skull and ate your brains, R thinks darkly, and he clams up all of a sudden, ashamed, his eyes dropping to the floor, to Marius’s feet, to anywhere but his face. He deserved to know. R knows that and he’s still balking, just like with Shion. R’s shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, the kind Julie would get on his case with, as he steels himself. His hand wobbles up to point at Marius’s temple, then to his own mouth, his teeth bared. R’s hand drops back down.

He remembers looking out of Marius’s eyes, seeing the girl in white and – and feeling. He’d basked in it. At least he guesses if he gives Marius a warning, he’ll know to stay away in the next Arena? Maybe not so much, considering his last thoughts before he died – how he’d sacrificed himself as distraction. R grunts unhappily.

“Be…Dead if…I didn’t...” R trails off, unable to continue.

[saisamour]

Marius's brows remain knotted as he attempts to decipher R's fragmented explanation. But he does not interrupt, and waits patiently until he realizes that R could no longer find the words to continue.

He purses his lips. He understands, he believes, about the disease. He has vaguely heard of an animated corpse, although they are born through means of witchcraft more than an illness as R has mentioned. So R is dead-but-living. Marius, in all honesty, had never dreamed of meeting such a beast, much less consider them real, but then again he had many a strange and unbelievable experience in this world that perhaps one more oddity should no longer be too shocking.

It takes even longer for him to understand what R means when the un-dead points to Marius's temple and then to the creature's mouth. He stares blankly for a good second or so before his eyes widen and his mouth hangs open. "Oh."

Again, a splash of red against moonlit sand flashes before his eyes, and he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head to chase it away. He takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment, then releases it and puts on a stern look.

"I am very sorry you had to resort to eating my brain." A brief moment of disbelief causes him to pause for a moment—for it is very odd to hear those words in that succession come out of his mouth—but then he shakes himself out of it and continues with, "But dying yourself is hardly an acceptable reason for killing another."

[shambler]

R levels that flat gray stare on Marius. “Dead in-fected with….new…hunger. Here?”

The zombie brushes his fingers over his withered heart, then his head, then his guts. Everwhere. Here and here and here. There. From his very cells to his bones to his muscles and tendons. It’s hard to put into kindergarten-level words that his mouth can form around. R finally drops that stare, unable to meet Marius’s rationality head on like this. It might’ve been easier if he was yelling and red in the face, cussing him out. Trying to head-shot him. If he hadn’t eaten Marius’s brain, he guessed the man would know first-hand what it’s like. Saying the brain’s the best part doesn’t seem like it’s a very good defense, even if that was the last thing on R’s mind as he knelt there next to Marius’s still warm body.

He’d enjoyed Marius’s stolen moments, though. He’d bathed in the colors and the way he actually felt, how everything was a bunch of valleys and mountains instead of a zombie’s flatline. He’d had a good life rich with experiences. All these moments. Something better than survivors who only cared about if this can of food would kill them with food poisoning or if it was worth the risk. If the sound of the can opener would alert any corpses nearby.

Marius probably won’t see that as a consolation.

“Pulse – prey. No…puh….pulse,” R touched his heart, then pointed at his teeth. Not-prey. Hunters. The new food chain. “Under…stand? Do…you get?”

If he can bring Marius up to speed, then he’ll be safe for any future Arenas. That’s the best R can do. It’s not much, but it’s something, R swaying gently from one foot to the other.

[saisamour]

It is rather apparent by now that R had difficulty speaking, so Marius does not question further. Instead, he presses his lips together and tries his very hardest to comprehend the complexities of R's state. Pulse equals prey. He gathered that much. Somewhere in the back of his mind is a voice demanding why he even bothers; this is an abomination before him, not even human despite the similar limbs and face and eyes. (No, not entirely; there is always something in the un-dead's grey stare that is rather empty and unsettling.)

And yet Marius stays, because R has not attacked yet, and in fact appears so honest and genuinely remorseful about what he had done. And truth be told, Marius is not much concerned that R had killed him. It is more regretful that he had lived, in fact, after his very brutal death by the monster's hands. His worry lies on the other Tributes and the pain and torture they might undergo if R grows desperate enough to kill them—

His eyes widen slightly then, as if he had just come to a revelation. "You cannot control yourself, can you, when the hunger comes to you? Is that why you attack the living?"

[shambler]

R shakes his head - the motion's floppy, almost looking like an accident. To underline how serious he is, he points again at his mouth, then drops his hand to his side.

"It's...strong. More than - than..." he pauses and shrugs. "Any...thing."

There. He's got that one out in the open. R falls quiet behind the muzzle, taking a breather so he can search for more words he can gasp out. Marius is understanding where he's coming from, thankfully, and he seems like he's following his train of thought despite the, uh, the communication issues. R realizes he's still staring and staring hard at Marius, his eyes locked on his face, traveling again to The Spot where if he just bit there, he'd hit the frontal lobe and -

Jesus. Not here. Stop day-dreaming. R guiltily drags his eyes back down, focusing on a point on Marius nose. The tip. It's not a bad nose, sharp, almost too straight because R's from a world where noses are broken and lumpy, the sign of close calls between zombies or survivors who don't want to share. It's such a nice nose that R had skipped it when he went to town on Marius. It's another one of those things he probably needs to keep to himself, instead of groaning the first thing that comes to mind. R shuffles his feet where he stands, still staring hard at that nose.

"So...stay...healthy." Human. Breathing. Stay whatever wonderful and whatever special spark that makes Marius Marius. R's being sappy but once you've bitten into someone's frontal lobe, it's hard not to take it personally.

[saisamour]

It takes a while for Marius to come to terms that R's need to feast on humans is not simply a want, not even a desire or an addiction, and even then he does not fully understand why R is incapable of fighting it back, if only he put forward a herculean effort. Perhaps he never will. But there is an attempt, at least, even if minuscule traces of self-righteous judgement is difficult to completely shake off.

It likely did not help that R had been gazing at his nose. He was uncertain for a moment exactly where R had been staring—it could be possible that he had simply been maintaining eye contact—but he had definitely been staring at his nose, now that Marius has observed enough, and for more than an acceptable amount of time. He raises a hand to pinch at the bridge self-consciously and in an attempt to snap R's attention away from it.

The well-wishes for his health does give him pause, however. It is not like the artificial, phony ones that he hears all too often, back in his grandfather's house or at the salons, or even in dishonest people like M. Thenardier. So the hand drops back to one side, and the tone in his voice is equally sincere when he says, "Thank you. I... I pray we do not meet in the next arena as enemies."

[shambler]

How's Marius taking this? How would anyone take getting eaten, idiot?

Something behind R's Dead eyes flickers once he realizes he'd been caught in the act. Is it that obvious? He lists to the side, trying to play it casual, his shoulders hunched a little bit more than usual.

"Me...too. You're...nice," R's more than happy to get right back to moaning, his eyes drifting from Marius's really nice nose to his high cheek-bones to something invisible behind him. Distractions help from daydreaming about eating. "You...dream?"

The warning should help. Most people didn't get bitten and get to come back - in fact, R would've said before this no one did. For Marius to get a second chance and a warning should ensure this won't happen again in the Arena. Then again...R remembers one of his dying thoughts, something about protecting a kid and using himself as bait, and thinks okay, maybe it's not totally impossible. If Marius is lucky, he'll end up chewing up someone else first. Then, R wants to groan, he'll be safe(ish) to be around. At least until he started thinking Marius's nose was worth biting off again...

[saisamour]

If R is going to act indifferent to Marius catching him, then Marius is more than willing to play along. Besides, it is far more tolerable for him to avoid any reminder of his death, as much as possible, and he certainly feels more at ease when R is staring at a spot other than himself.

So his stance relaxes a little more. He blinks at the question, however, and a hand raises unconsciously to rest on his neck. "Sometimes."

But his dreams are mostly nightmares, now. Smoke and the smell of gunpowder at the barricades intermingled with poisoned needles pricking at his skin; screams of pain from the other tributes with his own punctuating them ringing in his ears; shallow, muddy water and the putrid smell of decaying flesh followed by blood and the skin tearing off his arm and rotting teeth at his pulse—

He snaps out of his momentary stupor to find himself trembling slightly, eyes wide, cold sweat forming on his hands and hairline and the back of his neck. And suddenly it seems as if all progress to brave his fears, to speak to and understand the one who killed him, have disappeared like thin smoke, and R is again nothing but a monster.

He takes a shaky step back, his voice equally unsteady when he speaks. "If... If you do not mind, monsieur. I must take my leave."

[shambler]

For a moment R thinks they have something together. This could work. But then something changes in the way Marius holds himself, he pales, beads of sweat pop up, and a shiver starts up and doesn't stop. Oh jeez. R knows he should step back himself. In his mind he gives Marius all the space he needs - in reality he stands there like a dead lump of flesh, complete with stupid gawking, as the man stares at him with horror plastered across his face and coloring his voice.

"Sorry," R manages weakly. It's always too little too late. It strikes him how stupid it is to apologize to someone for killing them. Moaning "I'm sorry" like a broken record. "O...kay."

He finally gets the hint to start backing off himself, R's head hunching to his chest as he drags one foot backward and then the other. He means to make himself look smaller and less threatening but all he does it look closer and closer to that thing that grabbed Marius out there. It doesn't help the clothes he has on today are the same dark beiges and browns of the outfit he had in that desert.

That look on Marius's face is all too familiar. It's actually the sane response, the same one that fears dark corners and jumps at the sound of scratching without a source.

[saisamour]

Marius averts his eyes to the ground, partly because he is afraid to be plagued by another sudden flashback and partly because he is ashamed of his actions, although whether it is because he is displaying more than a little rudeness to his companion or because he had made an attempt to communicate with a monster at all, he could not tell himself.

He takes another step back. "I'm sorry." But it sounds flat; it's a reflex more than a sincere apology, along with the curt bow that accompanies it. He keeps his eyes on the ground even as he makes a move to turn around, in the same direction he had originated from.

"U-Until then, monsieur." And without a glance back, he carries himself with hasty steps away from R, not really giving attention to where he is heading. As long as it's away from the strange, undead abomination, (the one that makes him question whether it is justifiable that he retract in disgust, or if he is wrong in his unbending definition of what is right) he finds that it does not matter.