ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀowɴ. {{===============================}} It seemed so simple, in hindsight. Ellis could barely remember the details. If they wanted to know, they could watch it play out frame by frame. There were tapes being rerun on every television as the news stations crowed out “Ellis is the victor of Round 12!” But Ellis didn’t have the strength to watch. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Were they even sure it was truly over? Maybe this was a dream, and any day they’d wake up. Where, exactly? A peaceful life, perhaps; back in District 12, before this mess. Or maybe they were dead after all, and this was a fantasy to hold onto life. A life that didn’t exist. A life no longer theirs. {{===============================}} “You look beautiful,” the stylist purred. Ellis didn’t respond, staring into the mirror. Their Victor costume was elaborate, the crown on their head even more so. But Ellis’s gaze was fixed on their face- for despite the Capitol’s best efforts, nothing could cover the massive jagged scar tearing across their face. “I’m sorry, but it reached the tissue too deep to be healed,” The Capitol doctor had murmured after they pulled Ellis out of the arena, trembling and sobbing. Yet their miracle medicine could bring a broken tribute back from the brink of death to be placed on a pedestal only days later. Ellis wondered if that was truly the reason. “Ellis?” They snapped their head up, facing the stylist. Her mouth was still smiling, but her eyes were concerned, uncomfortable. Ellis realized their claws had slid out when they startled, and they guiltily pulled them back in. “It’s time,” she said. Ellis gave a terse nod, but didn’t speak. They let themself be guided out to the stage, to face the world for the first time as a Victor. They were alone. So utterly alone. Even surrounded by a sea of Capitolites, none of the faces seemed friendly- only hungry, like predators eager for bloodshed and glory. All of Ellis’s allies were gone. Their penguin companion had been confiscated while Ellis ‘recovered’. Even Darksilver, their ghostly guide and protector through the arena, had vanished after the final battle. Her absence felt the most like betrayal. Ellis’s only solace was that they would soon return home. To Quicksilver. They just had to live through this final hell. Ellis put on the best smile they could manage, and went out to meet the wolves. {{===============================}} The train hurtled like a bullet into the station before rapidly slowing to a halt. A sea of coal dusted cats waited, crowding the platform with bated breaths. A cheer went up as the doors slid open, and their Victor emerged. The moment the orange feline stepped onto the platform, one voice cried out above the rest. The crowd was quick to make way for a single cat- a slender silver cat with tabby stripes, bright teal eyes brimming with tears. “Ellis,” Quicksilver choked out, her exclamation quickly dissolving into wordless sobs as she launched herself at the Victor. Ellis remained frozen for a singular heartbeat before embracing her back, clinging to her with all their strength. Quicksilver’s paws curled into the soft orange fur. It was so surreal. She had thought… no, it didn’t matter now. Ellis was home. The soft click of a camera brought her back to reality, as she remembered they weren’t alone. So she wouldn’t let herself cry now. The two pulled apart far too soon. Quicksilver could immediately see the haunted hollow look in those forest green eyes she loved. So many questions piled in her mind, but she could tell now wasn’t the time to ask. “I was so scared,” she whispered. Ellis tried to smile, but it was far too tired, and that was when she knew something was really wrong. Who had taken sweet, loving Ellis and broken them so thoroughly? That could be dealt with later. Right now, Ellis needed her. So she smiled tenderly, lightly pressing a paw to their cheek, careful not to hurt their scar but not shying away from it. “I love you.” The crowd fawned, but Quicksilver ignored them. She only had eyes for Ellis as she gently guided them home. {{===============================}} Darksilver hadn’t intended to linger. She had left after the final battle. No, not even after; she had abandoned control partway through, assured in Ellis’s victory. As a result of her carelessness, their final opponent had left a permanent mark. Her fault. She had let that happen. /I’m sorry, Ellis./ Now it was over. Ellis no longer needed her, and she was sure they didn’t want a bloodthirsty killer haunting them. Their arena days were over. She could rest. So why did she remain? She supposed wanted to see the payoff of her work. She kept a wide distance, wandering and watching. Let them think her gone, and peace returned. And she would be, once she saw… something. Some final proof the violence had been worth it. Then she would be allowed to rest. Perhaps she’d even finally fade away. [[ Continued in Notes and Credits ]]
Roleplay: @Banana203 Character, art, writing: @windrider_PI Tributes referenced belong to their respective owners Music: “Titanium” by David Guetta {{===============================}} But Darksilver’s awareness did not fade. In all of her wandering, she didn’t come across the other ghost from the arena, either, but she was sure it lurked out of reach. It would come when it was ready. And perhaps that was her fate, to return to Ellis when she was ready. No, when they both were. {{===============================}} The victory tour came far too soon. It seemed the moment Ellis had begun to settle back to a peaceful life, one where they could almost forget, the Capitol came and tore them away. Victory; hah. What was victorious about reliving the struggles and pains of the arena, only strung in a sickeningly positive light? Still, Ellis had improved in the months of absence from the relentless spotlight. They had learned how to wear a better mask, to smile and hide the sadness in their eyes. Sometimes, they could even put their pain aside and feel a sliver of genuine joy. But that was reserved for special cases, usually by Quicksilver’s side. Never here, back with the cameras. There was no choice. So Ellis donned their best smile, bore the weight of the crown, and stood straight in the spotlight. It was challenging, though. In District 9, Ellis was struck by the reality of this tour. This was the home of their first opponent. Everything they had tried to forget came rushing back. In District 7, Ellis stared at the platform of the families with wide eyes, searching for a resemblance to the cat they had called a friend. Their words caught in the middle of their speech. Words failed to captured all Ellis wanted to say. In District 6, Ellis tried to look at the families held on a pedestal for all to watch mourn, and immediately regretted it. They had caused one of these bereavements. In District 4, they stared almost defiantly. It had been him or them, no other choice. Leer had given them one final gift before his death- his desperate mauling had left them with a scar they’d carry forever. But that scar was nothing compared to the one left in the grieving hearts of his family, so Ellis’s resolve didn’t last. In District 3, Ellis couldn’t meet the eyes of Fin. They hadn’t realized during the Semifinals just how similar they were with Wheels. Both born of District 3; children of inventors; desperate to return home to their lovers. But only one could, and Ellis had stolen that from him. District 1 was by far the most lavish they’d seen. And yet the pain on the mourners’ faces was just as poignant as in every other District. As was the hint of suppressed hatred, blaming Ellis for taking the life of their beloved. The Capitol should have been the worst. Here, instead of resigned muted applause, the constituents of the grand party were genuine in their congratulations. They were blind to the horrors of the Games, blind to what they supported, could they not see that Ellis was a /real cat/? They drank and ate and laughed as if they hadn’t been complicit in hundreds of murders. They fawned over Ellis as one would a pet, fumbled compliments on the scar like it was a cosmetic choice, dredged up their favorite memories from Ellis’s living nightmare. But, somehow, it wasn’t. Ellis would take this, a hundred nights over, because it was still better than looking into the faces of the deceased tribute’s loved ones and thinking, /I’m responsible for this./ {{===============================}} The train was so quiet at night. Ellis sat at a window, watching the world blur past rapidly, trying desperately not to think too much. Unfortunately, the dark was cruel, and the memories relentless. Until they stopped. It felt like a howling wind dying down in a moment. The fur on Ellis’s spine rose with a chill. They turned, heart thudded in anticipation. They weren’t surprised to see her standing there, ghostly light illuminating her form. “I thought you left.” The words were plaintive as Ellis stared into empty blue eyes. This was… the first time they had truly seen Darksilver. She seemed as insubstantial as wind, flickering like a flame. And… red markings stained her paws and muzzle. Dread curled in Ellis’s heart. Had those always been there? “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me,” she murmured, her voice softer than Ellis remembered. Ellis looked out the window. “Are the memories…” “I’m suppressing them,” she said. “I… it’s temporary. I can’t do it forever.” Another pause. “I’m sorry for leaving.” Ellis was silent. Darksilver reconsidered; perhaps it was still too soon. She was preparing to vanish when Ellis said, “You’re here now.” Darksilver stilled. Ellis turned back to her, and their eyes were… merciful. Darksilver came forward, her ghostly form settling beside Ellis. The two cats watched the world fly by out the window, taking the rare moment of peace with all the gratefulness it deserved.
