thesongofabelle-blog
one day at a time
forty-three years old
a victor
an accidental gay icon
happily married
71 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
Text
hxnsson:
“thank you.” she took the cigarette and once it was lit, she sat there in a silence for a long while not saying anything, just smoking. this was what she liked about francis. their silence wasn’t awkward or difficult to endure. they knew when it was needed and when it wasn’t. “not sure about controversial, some people actually like this sweet hell we call existence.” and most people weren’t as horribly cynical as she was either.
“i’ve been watching them all train. i decided to really pay attention this year. some of them haven’t even shown up to training. they’re the ones that have already decided they’re going to die. which is fair i guess, better to not get your hopes up at all. there are some strong tributes. let’s just hope some tragedy befalls on those psychotic careers this year like it did in our games so everybody else has a chance.”
Her words, once again in true Celeste fashion, stung a little. He could vividly recall how he had avoided training entirely and stayed in his room. In fact, he had barely left the bed the entire time he was in the Capitol. There was one... unfortunate incident when he had cried through the sheets so much that an avox had to come and bring new ones. He knew it more than anyone else, but it was truly a miracle that he had won the Games.
“Yeah, well, those types of kids are always gonna be here. There’s not much to do with them besides let them be, I guess.” He looked down at his expensive shoes and sighed. “If only Harley was like that...”
He hadn’t even been aware that he had said his thoughts out loud, so Francis just kept speaking as he dangled the cigarette out of the side of his mouth. “The best thing that can happen to that group of little devils is an arena disaster or something takes them all out.”
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
hxnsson:
“can i have a cigarette now?” she laughed at her question, it wasn’t a particularly nice story, not one she liked talking about - there was a reason that francis was the first person she had told the whole story to. “not many people can. if they come back to nothing, it’s because they had nothing to begin with.” then it was bearable, but only just. celeste thought it was a miracle that she was even alive, but she had always been too stubborn. “nothing. i can’t do anything for him, not really.”
she could try and get him a sponsor, but he’d need to do well in his interview, during private training and she couldn’t control that. “i don’t know if they’d treat him the same way they’d treat me. i don’t even know if surviving the games is even the best thing for him. maybe i’d be doing him a favour by letting him die in there.”
maybe if he came out alive there could be some healing between celeste and her family, but she wondered if she even wanted that for herself. “there’s only so much i can do anyway, who is going to think a boy from ten is going to win the hunger games, even if his cousin did win. it just makes him mildly interesting at best.”
He smoothly flicked his carton open and, without looking, slid one of his many cigarettes up and almost out of the box with his thumb. Celeste’s actions -- her decision to not really try to bring the boy home -- was sticking to him. It reminded him of his own complex feelings towards Harley. He had accepted that she would die but would he go so far out of his way to ensure that she died? Regardless of how he felt, he kept his mouth shut about that particular topic.
“Hmm...” he muttered as he lit another cigarette and clenched it betwixt his teeth as the carton went back into his pocket. “Uh, I gotta say, and you may not wanna hear this, but I think living is better than dying. I know, controversial opinion, but that’s just me.”
The better question -- though he did not say it -- was who would think a blind girl from District Six would win? Absolutely nobody. “Well, whatever you decide to do with him, just know that I understand. Not everybody gets what its like to, uh, do all of this -- mentor, I mean.”
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
harleydanielsd6:
“good morning francis.” she said, calmly, kindly. the events of last night were behind her. her reaction of fear had been purely in the moment. there wasn’t much of a use holding a grudge. he’d gone into his past and reacted accordingly. so had she.“how are you doing?” she asked, as though it were her father woken up before heading to his shift. calm, kind, nothing wrong.
she’d cried herself to sleep last night, holding a pillow to her chest. she’d cried herself to sleep because linny’s head wasn’t on her chest in bed and that had been the breaking point.
new day. new perspective. yesterday was dead, no use dwelling on it.
dead like she would be.
“yep. I’ve got good old Blue to help me.” she pointed directly at him, knowing where he was at all times. “we’re going to look at all the stations together and then try some. I’m thinking… something weapony, something survivally, something that looks fun. and i’ll be trying to do the second half of the day cane-reliant, just to get back into the swing of that, you know?”
“Uh, doing well. Thanks. Uh...” he trailed off, his fingers tapping at the counter he stood by. God, why was this so hard for him? Why couldn’t he just treat her like any other tribute -- like Shay? Well, that question was almost immediately answered the second he thought of it. She wasn’t Shay. In fact, she wasn’t like any other tribute he had ever mentored. There were some similarities, though -- just like everybody else, she would almost assuredly end up dead.
He thought about his impromptu visit to Shay’s fiancé. Would he do the same for Harley? Francis didn’t like the answer, so he quickly kept it moving by scratching the under of his beard.
Weapons? Survival? None of those things would work for her. It was hopeless. The most she could hope to do was get in a good cut, claw-mark, or maybe even a stab on the tribute that would take her life. He thought about those blood-thirsty careers and a shiver went down his spine. If one of those monsters got the jump on her, hopefully they would do so mercifully.
“Your cane? Uh... what do you mean your cane?”
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
For perhaps the first time in years, Francis slept decently well during his first night in the Capitol. For nearly every consecutive year since he arrived as a tribute, Francis barely got any sleep in the dreaded city. It was as if he was incapable of letting his guard down for such a long amount of time -- sleep or no sleep, his mind refused to allow him to relax. As he sat up with a groan, he immediately realized why it was that he had gotten such a good sleep.
This time around, he found himself strangely detached and uninvested.
He dressed in an olive green button down, a charcoal gray vest, and a pair of black loafers. He walked barefoot into the main quarters of the suite and stopped when he saw Harley. He stared at the back of her head for perhaps a second too long before letting his eyes drift skyward. Oh, god, he thought, just let her death be swift and easy.
“Good morning, Harley,” he said quietly as he walked towards the kitchen to pour himself some coffee. He made sure to keep a decent amount of distance between himself and the girl as he scooted past her. “Uh, so what’re your plans for the day? Did you, uh... figure out how training is gonna work for you?”
@harleydanielsd6
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
hxnsson:
“so you know what happened in my games. it’s fucked up what i did, i know.” people had done worse things than her, far worse things but they were either trained careers or ended up dying. it was rare that a victor emerged with their dignity intact. “when i came home, you know that bit where they wave you back and they’re all so happy. i’d… well they weren’t happy to see me back. my family wasn’t there, and i was taken straight to the victor village and i fell asleep straight away. i thought they would already be there and they’d want to live there too i just assumed i couldn’t see them in the square and they’d be there when i woke up. but when i woke up there was nobody there so i went to my house and nobody answered the door. and then i went to my aunts and uncles and none of them answered the door.”
she recalled it so vividly, it was strange to think this happened when she was only a teenager. “i went back to my home because i… i don’t know what i thought maybe they didn’t hear me knocking and my mom answered and she basically said they didn’t want to live with me, they did want me there and they didn’t want anything to do with me. i don’t even know what they were specifically mad about. whether it was the fact that i killed dion in the most cowardly way possible, or i burned people alive, or maybe because if they managed to escape i killed them with no regard. i don’t even know. but i’d never seen my family look at me like that.”
they had made celeste feel as though she deserved this punishment, so she took it and she left them alone for as long as she could bear it. “i thought i’d give them time to get over it and a year later i invited them round for dinner, i made this lovely meal and it went cold because nobody came. and i guess they had decided i wasn’t family anymore.” she sat there in silence for a long while, for a very long time it hurt her and after a while she stopped caring, and distanced herself from her family name. “anyway that was ten years ago and the first time anyone i was related to spoke to me was on reaping day when they asked me to try my hardest to bring jude home. i can’t help but hate him. can you imagine living through the games and coming home to absolutely nobody?”
Time flew by as Francis let her speak. Throughout her recanting of her life story, Francis experienced a facial journey the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since he had been reaped. By the time Celeste stopped speaking and posed a question towards Francis he had smoked through three cigarettes. A small pile of the wasted bugs began to gather at his feet. One was still flaming and sizzled as Francis’ shoe stomped on it.
It was a lot to take in. Her words continued to ring in his ears as he reached for a new cigarette and, unfortunately, discovered that he had run out. He grimaced at the sight and tossed the box haphazardly aside. He did everything he could to avoid looking her in the eye after her story. It wasn’t that anything changed between them -- in fact, their relationship would probably flourish wildly after tonight because Francis had been waiting for Celeste to open up to him like this -- it was just that her story had made him sad. Francis thought about commenting on the story but decided it was best if her words died on the air she spoke them on. She would probably appreciate the gesture, anyway.
“No, I can’t,” he said honestly. “I, uh... family to me is everything-- you know that. Uh, so what’re you gonna do to him if you hate him so much?” He wasn’t going to try his hand at some foolish ‘oh, but he’s your family! love him anyway,” schtick. No, he knew better than that. He also knew that if he was in Celeste’s position, he would probably feel the same way.
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
hxnsson:
“i can’t.” he was right, and she couldn’t even hide it. especially not from jude. it wasn’t his fault, and she felt bad for that reason and that reason only, but she couldn’t act as though her family’s abandonment had had no effect on her. “i can’t even stand the sight of him.”
she managed to exchange a few words with him on the train before she unexpectantly felt a wave of negative emotions. it would have been unfair to jude to have to deal with them, so she took the time to get her shit together, and she’s still trying. “did i ever tell you what happened when i went home after the games ended?”
The wrinkles on his forehead and the lines next to his mouth all crinkled and made themselves visible at once. His eyebrows furrowed and the cigarette that was dangling out of his mouth was becoming susceptible to falling. However, in that moment, all Francis could think about was that Celeste hated her family.
“No...” he trailed off as he took another big puff. Come to think of it, she had never mentioned her family. Francis often talked about his -- Hugo including -- because they were the brightest spots in his shadow realm of a life. “But I’m guessing it wasn’t, uh... good?”
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
hxnsson:
“i think so, however she doesn’t seem to think it. so i guess we’ll see how well that plans out for her - because as of right now i’m done with her, either birch or mare can deal with her.” celeste had lasted a whole two days - perhaps less - but this year she had at least tried to care about her tributes. they didn’t do much to help her.
she didn’t understand francis’ confusion, surely the word ‘cousin’ meant the same thing in every district, so she narrowed her eyes at him as she explained. “yes my cousin. as in son of my uncle, who is the brother of my mother cousin.”
The way he talked about the girl didn’t surprise Francis in the slightest. He and Celeste had gotten decently close over the past year and her abrasive personality took some getting used to -- not for Francis, though. The two of them had clicked pretty well ever since that fateful rooftop encounter. Regardless, he was used to her saying such things about people like gamemakers, capitolites, even tributes.
But, family?
“Yeah, okay, I know how to trace a family tree, Cee. What I don’t get,” his voice softened and he felt the need to take a big ol’ puff of cigarette, “is why are you so... I don’t know-- you seem like you can’t stand that he’s here, but not in the typical way.”
19 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Traits
gloomy: These Sims tend to be sad, can share melancholy thoughts to other Sims, and while sad, gain a boost to their creative skill.
family-oriented: These Sims become happy around family members, become sad if they don't interact with family for a period of time, and can boast about family.
loner: These Sims become happy when alone, do not receive negative moodlets when their social need is low, become tense around strangers, and become embarrassed more often by social rejection.
Aspiration
big happy family: This Sim wants to build a large, loving household!
1 note
·
View note
Text
hxnsson:
“you alright there friend? you might need to pick up a new lung whilst you’re here.” as much as celeste liked francis, she secretly thought ‘that’s what you get for saying no to me’, but she kept her thoughts to herself - for once. “i literally don’t know where to begin.”
running her hands down her face, she thanked god for capitol makeup being impossible to smudge. “my tributes this year are… something else. the girl thinks she can win because capitol citizens wave at her and she knows what plants soothe a stomach ache. and the boy is my cousin.”
“Oh, be quiet,” he sputtered as the coughing slowly quieted down. Once he finally calmed down, he took a moment to listen to Celeste and felt a chill run down his spine when she mentioned the girl. “Is she, uh, how do I say this... dumb?” He couldn’t imagine any tribute -- especially one from an outlier District like Ten -- actually thinking--
“Wait, what?” Her cousin? Maybe he had heard that wrong. He took another drag of his cigarette for clarity. “Your... cousin? Uh... Celeste, what?”
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
harleydanielsd6:
when franis yanked his fists away, harley went flying. not literally, of course. but she fell forward, completely unbraced for the sudden movement. at 5′1 and 110 pounds, she was easily yanked. She landed on his chest, completely unprepared for it. But he was standing, and she quickly ended up sliding down until she was curled up on the floor.
suddenly, she was back in first grade. Kids were pushing, kids were shoving, waiting for her to fall. her cane was gone, they’d taken jazz’s leash. she was alone, in a sea of hands, and once she was on the floor they started kicking mircilessly. her only response was what she did. what she’d learned to do. she screamed, at the top of her fucking lungs. it wasn’t even words, it was just a defense mechenism. adults would usually come, and then she’d be ushered away to lick her wounds.
no adults came this time, but she’d been removed from school years ago. it was an outdated strategy.
after a minute, she quieted, pulling herself off him as she realized he was appologizing and scooting back to the corner of the couch. now she was sitting with her knees tight against her chest, arms wrapped around them, defensive against her mentor. she thought for a moment, contemplating his actions and hers. she couldn’t accept the appology or return with her own. she wasn’t sorry for screaming. so she moved on.
“so you’re not gonna try.” it wasn’t an accusation, just a fact. “lie to my family about that.” was her only request. “I want them to think i was just so happy to be here, i loved my last few weeks, i died peacefully. that’s it. that’s all you have to do for me, if you aren’t gonna try.” she was BLIND. harley wouldn’t hold it against him.
As his hand rubbed at his eyes, Francis thought long and hard about how he was going to proceed. The girl was blind -- not only that, but she had been reaped twice. Despite this, she seemed to have a raging fire within her and knew what she wanted. His wrist bore a slight redness from when she had twisted it. Clearly, she had a little bit of fight in her, too. Did any of that matter, though? She was blind.
He peeked out from behind his fingers and stared at the girl. They had already gotten off to a bad start and, based off her reaction, it wasn’t something that could easily be fixed, either. A long, shuddering sigh escaped him. So, was that it? She had already decided that he wasn’t going to try and bring her out. She had decided that all by herself and spoke it into existence like it was Panem law. Then again...
His heart went out to her -- it really, really did. But... could he do this? It was a certain impossibility that she would survive. There was, for the first time since he began mentoring, literally no hope. If he were a smart man, he would give up on her right then and there and save himself the trouble of getting attached. Francis always got attached and it always ended up stabbing him in the back. This time? He wasn’t sure. Was it worth it?
“Have you met your partner yet? He’ll probably, uh, be able to help you out when it comes to getting places until, uh...” he began. “Or I can show you where to go. An avox could help, too.”
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
hxnsson:
“well i guess even if i did have a problem would you stop calling me cee?” she didn’t, but over the past couple of months, her almost daily conversations with francis had turned her into a bit of a drama queen, or at least whenever she was talking to him she started to act a little like one. straightening her back and crossing her legs she held her hand open towards him. “you’re such a drama queen.”
never in her life did she think she would become friends with a chain smoking, homosexual from district six - but it was wild how the stars aligned. “anyway, i have tea.”
“Nope,” he said simply. He began to laugh but ended up coughing up a lung. God, he really did need to quit smoking these. Maybe the Capitol would come up with cigarettes that had the same satisfying, soul-rejuvenation but without all the nicotine. He had tried the patches but they itched far too much.
She had mentioned the ‘tea’ in the middle of his coughing fit. He held up a single finger to force her to pause as he continued to cough. Eventually, when he pulled himself together, he straightened up and took a long drag from the cigarette. “Ooh, goody goody,” he said sardonically. “What’s up?”
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
hxnsson:
celeste never headed to the roof this early on in the games, but since her budding friendship with francis started there, she felt as though if there was one place where they would find each other again - it would be there. there was something so intrusive about going to other districts floors, the roof seemed like a neutral space - a safe space - and it wasn’t long until she heard his voice. “cee? is that your little nickname for me?”
she smiled at the sight of him. his beard was as scruffy as ever, a cigarette dangling from his lips, it was nice to know that some things never changed. “well if i refused i fear they might kill me you see so i guess another year can’t hurt me.” this year had seemed interesting enough until lucky opened her mouth, and she realised who jude was. “i tried the cigarettes in ten but it felt like i was sticking my head inside of an engine. pass me one of your delightful capitol ones.”
“Cee? Yeah, it is, I guess. Got a problem?” he joked as he reached where she stood. His gaze instantly traveled towards the sea of bright lights and the starless sky. A deep inhale in, a shaky breath out, and he was resuming his usual chain-smoking patterns. Oh, how he wished he was back in Six already. This year was just... going to be a wild ride.
Francis nodded his cigarette at her. “Bingo. Then again, maybe it would be wise to disobey just for that purpose,” he melancholically sighed through a new exhalation of smoke. It was dramatic of him to say that, yeah, but he knew that she knew that he was kidding. The funny thing was this: did Francis know that he was kidding at this point?
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
harleydanielsd6:
“francis, oh thank goodness. thought you were another one of… them.” she decided awhile ago not to be rude to the only person from six who would actually SPEAK to her. her district partner had told her he’d kill her nice and easy and walked away. she hadn’t gone near him since.
when he waved the hand in front of her face, though, she was pissed again. sure, she was blind. but she could feel the wind on her cheeks it drew up. add that to an already short temper and she wasn’t going to be taking any of this. she grabbed his wrist and twisted, hoping it hurt at least a little and he still didn’t hate her after. she’d never really done that before.
“that’s rude.” was all she said. “I’m blind, you don’t need to test it. but yeah… there’s better conditions.” she was gonna die. he knew it, she knew it.
“look. I’m gonna be reasonable here. I’m not going to ask how to win. I’m going to ask how to die with no blood, and i want you to make sure i don’t look scared.” that was all she could reasonably pull for ainslyn. she needed the girl to be okay, after. no nightmeres of harley covered in her own insides to haunt that little one. she wanted her sister to think she’d been okay, happy, confident.
Francis was transported back into the arena the moment her hand snaked its way onto his wrist. The slight pain caused by her twisting reminded him of the girl from Nine pinning him down. She had gone for his wrists first, too. She had no way of knowing that contact of that nature would cause this, but that didn’t cause him to hesitate as he lashed out.
He let out a strange mixture of a strangled cry and a scream as he yanked his wrist away. He was a grown man and she was a little blind girl. The amount of force he used was unnecessary but, for Francis, in that moment, it was the difference between life and death. Sweat began to pour from his forehead as if he was back inside that burning school. He leapt to his feet once he was free and took a few steps back. His eyes were widened with fury and fear.
“Fine! You wanna die without bloodshed and on your own terms? Jump off your platform. Explode into pieces. Do whatever you want, just don’t put your hands on me ever again!” He hardly ever raised his voice at anyone -- a little girl, especially. The moment the words left his mouth, he knew he had made a mistake. The momentary instinctual episode he had faded away and he was left standing over a girl that couldn’t even see his face.
Sighing, he sunk into an adjacent chair and began to rub his temples. He needed to calm down. “I’m sorry, Harley, but don’t touch me like that. I can’t handle it.”
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Francis eased into his routine the same way he did every year. Once his tributes had gone to bed and the dreadfulness of arriving in the Capitol again died down, he slipped away and headed to the roof. It was a comforting ritual that he looked forward to for some reason. He knew he shouldn’t since its arrival meant two more kids would die under his watch, but the feeling of a cigarette carton in his back pocket eased the sweat on his brow.
The elevator doors slid open and, to his pleasant surprise, his new friend Celeste was already there. “Hey, Cee. Ready for another go-around of the wheel of death and destruction?” he called as he walked. The sweet smell of nicotine accompanied him as the cigarette hung loosely out of the corner of his mouth.
@hxnsson
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
harleydanielsd6:
Harley was so fucking done with the capitol.
She was burnt out, really. After the emotional tax of saying goodbye to her family, and then losing Jazz (which, honestly. Fuck that at SO many levels) and then and then AND THEN bumping into so many people at the red carpet and the lobby. Some figuratively, Nova literally. Nova was a cool girl, but… still. She’d had a few thousand questions, and Harley was just so drained from the day’s whole ordeal. She just wanted to sleep, in her cramped closet of a room with Ainslyn’s soft snores above her. But no. now she had to get ready for a parade.
Fuck today. She signed it, annoyed but not wanting any capitolites that might be able to hear here to understand. She heard a throaty chuckle to her side. The avox she’d been assigned found it funny. Well at least you’re having fun. She signed decicively, smiling against her will and plopping on the couch. He was the best part of this, she’d decided. He was funny.
She didn’t realize the other side of the couch had her one mentor as it’s other occupant, although her avox did. When he saw him, he shut up real quick. Avoxes weren’t supposed to communicate. She looked up at him questioningly, signing a what? He didn’t respond. Something was wrong.
“who’s there?” she asked, looking around. There was a ferocity and a threat in her voice, it was clear she was, or was trying to appear, positively murderous.
@thesongofabelle
The day of the Reaping had been, to put it simply, a wild ride. Although about a year had passed since Shay had died, Francis Belle had to fight back tears as the kids gathered in the Square. He kept looking out into the crowd, wondering -- no, hoping -- that he would somehow see Shay amongst them. It was a fool’s errand, of course, but that didn’t stop him from entertaining his own failed aspirations.
The hurt that Shay had brought with her caused Francis to zone out during the Reaping. Normally, he was painfully alert and noticed every little detail. Now? He had barely flinched when the mayor called out his name amongst the small list of mentors that District Six had managed to bring home in 77 years. He may have been dressed to the nines, but his mind and heart felt more like ones and twos.
That all changed when he heard that name. Harley Daniels -- why was that name so familiar? He raised his gaze just in time to see the dog and, immediately, lowered it back into his laps. He sighed outwardly, not even trying to hide his emotions. Harley Daniels was that little blind girl that had been reaped a few years ago. It was all coming back to him now, unfortunately. Melissa Williamson had taken her place. Like so many of Six’s tributes, she, too, died in the bloodbath. Francis’ head started to ache at the thought of her again. They had gotten along fairly well. It was useless to try and mentor her, though. She seemed to know that she was going to die -- she had accepted her fate.
Melissa didn’t deserve it -- any of it. Now, it seemed that her sacrifice had been for naught.
...
Now, as he sat on one of the couches in the suite, he watched the poor little lamb walk in. He watched the little exchange he had with the avox in silence. His eyes, which were reddened and itchy, glared harshly at both his tribute and the avox. The avox got the hint and scurried to the side. Harley, however, kept going. He rolled his eyes as he realized why. Right, he thought, she was blind.
Just to ensure that this all wasn’t some pitiable nightmare, he waved a hand in front of her face. Yup, blind. Great. He flinched when she barked out a question. The girl had some fight, it seemed. Sighing, he leaned back against the couch and let his head rest on the top. No matter how much fight she had, she would still be a certain casualty. Was... was there even a point to this? The Capitol might as well have just shot her in the head at the Reaping the second her name was called again.
“Uh, Francis. Francis Belle, Harley. I’m your mentor. I wish I could say it’s good to meet you but, uh, I guess this isn’t among the most ideal meeting conditions.”
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
✘ last goodbye ✘ oneshot ✘
His face was void of emotion as he walked the busy streets of Six. Those that couldn’t afford to take the public transportation system -- which consisted mostly of buses and trolleys -- either rode on bikes (if they could afford them) or walked. Of course, the vehicles that the citizens were allowed to use were either unreliable, unstable, or the prototypes of the models that were sent directly to the Capitol. Overhead, the occasional roar of a hovercraft could be heard ripping across the sky. Walking around in District Six was like experiencing constant sensory overload. Nobody was safe from the sounds, smells, and sights of the overcrowded city.
This was Francis Belle’s preferred method of travel. He could have easily afford to take any of the aforementioned forms of transportation, but decided against it. He was determined to get to his destination on foot no matter how long it would take. Perhaps this was a form of punishment he assigned himself. It was only fitting. He was, after all, visiting Shay’s fiancé.
Those that recognized him watched him walk with lingering eyes. It wasn’t uncommon to see Francis walking the streets of Six. He did, after all, visit every day and help his family with its business. Besides, staying away from everything, all cooped up in his quiet mansion, was no way to live. He longed for his family every single time he had to sleep in that mansion. He had Hugo, which made it bearable, but he couldn’t imagine doing it without him. He was his rock, he was his world, he was his everything. The clear plastic that enveloped the flowers he carried crinkled noisily. Hugo was Shay’s Hemi. How was she going to live without her?
He had picked out a set of tiger lilies whilst in the Capitol. There weren’t many florists in District Six. The ones that did exist carried only weeds and fake flowers made from spare mechanical parts. It was... sad. No, none of those would do. Only the best would work for Shay. She deserved only the best. He had gone right before he left to go back home. The flowers caught his eye almost immediately. They radiated strength, determination, and were beautiful to look at. They reminded him instantly of Shay. He had bought every last one they had.
Gulping, he found the apartment complex that the family was supposed to live in. Shay had mentioned where Hemi had lived briefly. She didn’t even mention an address or anything, only a street and the color of the building. That was all Francis needed to know. He had committed it to memory when she had first told him just in case she didn’t come back. Of course, he didn’t, well, he didn’t think he would need to make this stop. He had been devoted oh so utterly to Shay. She was meant to win -- he knew it.
He took the time to climb each and every stair. Eventually, he got to the correct floor and traveled the halls until he found the right number. He stood there in front of that door for probably about fifteen minutes. The whole thing had a sense of finality about it. He still had to visit Shay’s immediate family but, for some reason, he had chosen to do this first. He needed to see Hemi, the love of Shay’s life.
So, he knocked once, twice, thrice.
---
it'd been a week since hemi had watched shay die on live tv. since she'd been stabbed by that bitch from twelve (hemi knew, logically, that the girl from twelve seemed sweet. that she had things to live for too. but... she'd killed shay), and hemi hadn't left the apartment in that time, not even to water her plants on the balcony. they were probably dying, and she couldn't bring herself to care. she'd stayed in her bed, under the blankets, sleeping and staring at the ceiling, empty. they were going to get married. actually married, not just a quick ceremony in five minutes before the peacekeepers escorted hemi out. and now... they weren't.
they lived in one of the busier apartment complexes in the city, so the knock on the door wasn't a surprise. what was a surprise, however, was the knock on her bedroom door minutes after. "hello?" hemi asked, and her mother walked in, a man hemi vaugely recognized following her.
"this is francis," her mother said, and, after an uncomfortable glance at her daughter, added, "i'll leave you two alone."
--
Francis, who was standing besides the mother with his eyes pointed directly at a random part on the wall, lifted up his hand in an awkward wave. When the mother left and closed the door behind her, the older man sort of backed against the wall to keep himself grounded. He let out a long, slow sigh and finally got the courage to let his eyes look at Hemi.
She was exactly as Shay had described. Beautiful and with a delicate air of caring and nurture about her. Still, she was just a teenager, so it wasn’t like she was motherly. It was... just sweet. He stood there for perhaps a second too long, taking in the environment and looking around the room. He wondered how many times Shay had been in this exact room.
“Uh... I’m Francis-- but you know that, your mother just said. Uh...” he broke off awkwardly and took a step toward the center of the room. “I don’t know if you know -- and it’s fine if you don’t -- but I was Shay’s mentor.” It was one of the first times he had said her name out loud since she had died. It left his lips broken and tinged with a deep, dark sadness that would snuff out any form of light.
“I, uh, I just wanted to stop by. I wanted to give these to you,” and here he handed the tiger lillies to Hemi, “because they reminded me of Shay. It’s hard for me, so I can only imagine how hard it must be for you. You might even hate me and, honestly, I wouldn’t blame you. I just want you to know that I tried. I really, really tried. Shay was...”
His voice caught in his throat and the tears that had begun to pool in his eyes spilled over onto his cheeks.
“I saw a lot of myself in Shay. I saw the same little gay kid that was scared, desperately trying to make sense of it all, and, most importantly, I saw the love she had for another. For you, Hemi. She loved you a lot. She--” he coughed loudly, the years of smoking and tears were not kind, “She will always love you. No matter what.”
--
hemi bit her lip to keep from bursting into tears as francis talked. "i don't..." she paused, taking another breath, twirling one of her curls around her finger in an attempt to keep herself calm. "you did the best you could. shay would've..." she paused, looking at the ceiling and blinking to keep the tears from flowing. "shay would've died for that little girl no matter how good her mentor was. she's got four siblings, and..." hemi blinked frantically. she didn't want to cry anymore, damnit. "and she saw all of them in that little girl."
she took the flowers, and she couldn't stop herself this time as the tears began to flow down her face. "and i don't blame her, but.... it's just not fair!" she whimpers. "we were supposed to have the rest of our lives....and now she's gone!"
--
The two just stood there, crying, filling the bedroom with all of the negative energy that they had mustered in the last few minutes. Francis raised a hand and covered his mouth as he watched Hemi bemoan Shay’s fate. If only Shay had just let that little girl die. If only she would have just left her there -- or, better yet, not even found her at the lake all those days before. But, that was all those thoughts and regrets were: ifs. Shay wouldn’t have left her like that. Hemi was right. He couldn’t waste time thinking about who Shay wasn’t. He needed to remember her for who she was.
“Uh...” Francis muttered shakily, not knowing what to say. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. There was a lot of things he wanted to say. He just couldn’t form the words to do what he wanted. “... I know. I know, I know. It’s not fair. None of this is fair. But, and this is how I try to stay sane, you can’t focus on what’s not fair. You have to focus on what Shay wanted. And, even though I only knew her for a short time, I know that she would want you to be happy. She would want you to-- to, uh, to just keep living for the both of you.”
“Uh, I brought something else for you, too. Here. I had to put in a few requests to get it but I knew I had to do it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring that had adorned Shay’s finger up until her final hour. He held it out with an open palm, trying his best to avoid getting it covered in tears, too.
--
hemi stared at the ring in francis's hand. she'd never thought she'd see it again. not after shay had — she blinked the tears away again, wiping them away with her blanket. she reached out, hand shaking, to take it from him. she wrapped her fingers around it, feeling the metal heat up as it took in her body heat. "thank you," she said shakily, and she hoped he knew — it wasn't just for this. it was for everything. "thank you, francis."
--
As the ring traveled from one to the other, Francis felt his fingers brush against Hemi’s. Instantly, he felt uneasy. He had to get out of there. Gulping down all of the other things that he longed to say, he uttered one last “goodbye” before walking out of the room. Her mother was waiting at the door -- obviously eavesdropping like any good mother should -- and she tried to speak to him. Unfortunately, he was walking too fast to be stopped. His bloodshot eyes ached as he opened and quickly closed the door. He let his back lean against the cool surface and slowly slid to the ground.
God... this was goodbye, then.
He inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath as he became drowned in the hustle and bustle of District Six once again.
Goodbye, Shay.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
hxnsson·:
celeste wasn’t necessarily cruel or blunt on purpose, it was just who she was and she couldn’t exactly help that. she wasn’t aware that she’d said anything mean, but thinking back, it probably wasn’t nice hearing that they were a pathetic mess that was probably destined to die. “i can’t tell the difference.” and the idea of not saying what was on her mind just seemed weird. “would you rather i lied to you?” she was slowly beginning to enjoy her time around francis, but if he couldn’t cope with her outbursts, it wasn’t going to last for very long.
“it’s awful being wrong, but it’s a good thing it rarely happens.” it had only been nine years since birch had won, but she forgot that other districts hadn’t felt the light of victory in years, district six must have been getting very bored. “has it really been twenty five years?” what a tragedy. as she regarded his scruffy hair, and unkempt beard she frowned. “you know you’re a lot different to what i thought you’d be like.”
He thought about it for a second and then shook his head. “No, I’d rather you be honest with me. I’ve been doing this for a long time, Celeste. I’m tired of people lying to me.” He also was tired of lying to himself, but an oblivious Francis, despite his age and experience, wasn’t quite ready to have that conversation with himself.
“It has. Twenty-five years,” he said slowly, tasting the bitterness on each of the words he spoke. District Six never received the attention necessary to bring home a victor. On top of being outshined by One, Two, and Four, they were never as smart as those from Three and Five. Moreover, they weren’t as strong as those that lived in Seven, Nine, and Ten. Eleven and Twelve typically had likable kids or sob stories so, naturally, sponsors gravitated towards them. That just left Six and Eight. The only difference between them was that Eight had, in recent years, amassed three victors in a timespan of ten years. So, that just left Six to wallow in its own misfortune.
Being a tribute from District Six was, essentially, to sign a deal with death the moment your name is drawn.
He felt the chill one usually gets when they’re being stared at. Turning his head, he saw Celeste staring at him with a deep frown on her face. Instinctively, his hand went to scratch his beard -- an awkward way of handling awkward eye contact -- but stopped when she spoke. Ah, here we go.
“You mean because I’m not dressed to the nines with a limp wrist and an incredibly ridiculous amount of goop in my hair?” he snorted, thinking about the facade he had to put on whenever he went out in public in the Capitol. He could talk about it here and now because the gamemakers and the higher ups knew about his true personality. It was them that forced the fake one upon him, after all.
“It’s fake, wrong, and a facade. I have to keep up that image of a gaudy gay because it’s what the Capitol expects. Here, in this city, hardly anyone is straight. That’s great, right? Wrong. The problem is that they expect anyone who’s not like them to be something they’re not. Case and point: me. I mean, uh, I’m gay, obviously. I can still be gay and who I am without acting like the people who do my hair, makeup, and dress me.”
20 notes
·
View notes