thecapitol | Their Souls Dangling Inside Out from Their Mouths [Open]

Who| Punchy and Open
What| Punchvox is in da house.
Where| Training Center
When| Before gas leak.
Warnings| Avox, mentions of torture.

It took a while to break the new Avox in. There was the physical brutality, of course, but the psychological regimen had to be implemented, and that took a while. It's been several weeks since the poorly-formatted message took over all of the network devices and televisions. Punchy hasn't been seen since then.

The boy who shows up in the Training Center now seems smaller, divided by some imperceptible distance from the name he once held so proudly. The spiky red hair is cut short, clean and functional like the other Avoxes. His eyes are lowered, body no longer held with casual swagger but instead like furniture covering, existing only to hide and protect what blunt form is beneath. His hands shake slightly as he takes a sponge and a mop and starts to clean up the room where the weapons are, weapons he flinches at when he sees them. He avoids the glints of blades as if they're the eyes of angry accusers or worse, stern teachers.

His fingers drum for a few beats, just a slice of time, on the handle of his mop. Just for a second, something winks out. Then he's back to work.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Holiday sat and watched Punchy work for a long time. When she had first walked in, she almost ran to him with fear and worry, but she decided to give it a minute. He had changed, that was for certain. They had hurt him deeply and there was nothing that she could do to fix it. There was likely nothing that anyone could do.

She should have been there for him. She should have looked for him as soon as it happened.

Holiday doesn't say anything, she's not supposed to talk or interact with the Avoxes anyway, but she approaches him and stands close, waiting to see if he'll make some sort of move of acknowledgment.

He doesn't. He's not supposed to make eye contact, and he's not as accustomed as the other Avoxes yet to looking at someone without letting the gaze meet. He has to keep his head down entirely.

But he does stop when he realizes he's mopping her feet. A streak of water sloshes over her shoes, and he would apologize but there's no way he can. It's not just that his voice has been taken; it's that there are scars between the insides of his knuckles where they punished him for hand gestures, that there's a part of his mouth that doesn't move right because one of his trainers decided it was too expressive.

So he just watches the water drying on her shoe.

She doesn't pay attention to the water or her shoes. Holiday watches him closely, trying to pick out something that will tell her he's still okay.

She wants to apologize, in front of the people and cameras and everything, but it doesn't really come out since she fears that he won't be able to reply in turn.

Instead, Holiday takes a couple of steps forward and wraps him in a useless, but firm hug. What else could she do? Fix this?

He freezes. There's not much else he can do. He could push her off, theoretically, if he weren't scared to, if he actually wanted to - but the truth is he finds some comfort in her arms.

For a long time, Punchy took pride in how long he withstood the torture. Now he just regrets postponing it, and a more spiteful person might blame Holiday, or Joan, or Tim or Duke or Flora, for giving him some memories to anchor himself to for the days it took to crack him.

He subtly squeezes back.

Holiday wasn't thinking, honestly. She wasn't entirely sure if either of them would end up punished for this, but it didn't matter at all right now.

"I'm so sorry." It's all she can say or feels allowed to. She doesn't have any excuses and forgiveness seems stupid a thing to ask after. Sorry doesn't help, but it's the only thing she's really got.

He doesn't break away from her. He waits for her to make the move, because passivity has become his new code. Having been punished for doing things, he's been redirected into doing nothing.

But she's warm and he appreciates the gesture as he slightly, slightly relaxes into it.

She wants to tell him that she'll fix it and she almost does, but Holiday refuses to make promises that could fall through. One like that could fall through in the worst way.

She still makes the promise, though, just without telling him.

Holiday feels him relax just the tiniest fraction, so she stays where she is for a moment longer, closing her eyes and just being there.

He's not allowed to let go until she does. He wants to whisper into her ear, and he tries, he actually tries to push through the sudden wave of fresh, bloody memories the Capitol made to try and get him to never try to speak again.

All he can do is mouth words at her.

She shifts, realizing that he's trying to speak, and pulls slightly away from him but still holds him close.

"No, no. It's okay. Please. It's okay." She would love nothing more than to teach him sign language, but she can't right now. There would be very little other opportunity... actually, there may not be any, but she had to see him again at some point.

When she pulls away, he lets his grip on her go slack, like a doll waiting to be positioned. His arms circle her but don't hold her anymore.

He can't force himself to meet her eyes.

That's okay. She's shaking a little and her hand finds the side of his face gently, but-

"It'll be okay." She wants to promise him a whole hell of a lot, but not here. She'll fix this somehow. Maybe not completely--definitely not completely--but she'll fix this.

He wants to nod. He wants to be the brave, devil-may-care kid she met.

But he can't make himself, even for her, so he just goes back to mopping.

Their Souls Dangling Inside Out from Their Mouths [Open]

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