marianhwk

For a moment, the two of them seemed frozen in time, the demon and his prey caught in a gruesome tableau against the cellblock wall. He was still panting, close enough for hot breaths to sear past the sweat and blood and close enough to hear every terrified gasp she made. It would be so easy. Easier than the Peacekeepers with their guns and their armor. One twist, one thrust of the knife, and the apparition would fade just like all the others. It would leave him, their games would fall short, and Kili Durinson, District Four would walk to the end of this cellblock to where more bullets waited. He pressed tighter, hissing softly at the harsh choke of breath in his ear. So easy. Maybe he’d even take a few of them with him before he left. Take a gun, play a little. See how they liked their little games when he was ‘it’.

God, he’d always loved this knife. Sharper than a Capitolite’s smile and just as wicked, she’d always had a thirst for blood since the day he found her, lying innocent beside the body of a boy from District 11. So clever, and so graceful too, flickering between his fingers of an evening when he tossed her back and forth, whirling in the air. Even she had liked her, remarked on her balance and the way the light reflected along----

Knife.

His knife.

And her fingers.

“ What--- ” His voice was hoarse and cracked, as barely human as the rest of him beneath that mask of blood and pain, and yet---- he blinked, eyes inexorably drawn to the welling of crimson between her fingers. The blade had already bitten deep, and as he looked she squeezed tighter still, heedless of the pain or the viscera still clinging to the blade. His head jerked, tearing his eyes from the knife to stare her down -- and for the first time, the demon was disturbed.  “ Wh-what are you doing? Stop that. ”

He could feel it upon his wrist, thick and sticky and somehow scalding hot, and the hand holding the knife tugged, bit deeper, but she hung on, jaw clenched against fear and pain.

“ Stop that! ”

His breath was coming too quickly, both hands shaking now, straining with the effort of keeping still. There--- there wasn’t enough air, where had the air gone? They didn’t take the air, couldn’t do that. They couldn’t do that. Make her scream, make her cry, make her hurt, make him hurt, all the same games all the time, but the blood wasn’t hot. Games were cold and cruel and they didn’t do this! Why was it hot? Hot blood on his knife and he didn’t know how. How was it hot? His chest was heaving, eyes unable to focus, flickering from her to the kife to the blood to her to the shit, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe----

“ Stop! ”

She crumpled to the ground in a heap, the chokehold released as her predator stumbled backwards, tripping over the body of a Peacekeeper in his haste to scramble away. Hands slippery with her blood clamped hard over his own mouth, hyperventilating, gasping, crying - actually crying, tears hotter than the blood could ever be cutting paths through the gore on his cheeks.

“ What are you doing? Why are you---? No no no. N-not real, not real! Please, I don’t like it----- I don’t want to do it anymore, oh God please, no more. You’re not here, you’re not, you can’t be. Please please please don’t let it be, not you. Not real, can’t be real. No, no no no no no no... ”

marianhwk

The look Kili gave her was devoid of all feeling, eyes nothing but hollow pits of black. He barely moved, barely even blinked, just stared her down with that same soulless expression on his face. There had been something once, he remembered it in the same way he remembered his brother’s name, his lovers arms around his shoulders as she stole sips from whatever rotgut he’d found that evening. Memories that felt like vague dreams, the memory of a memory, of feeling something but this detached apathy he was experiencing now.

It had been easier to detach. He’d done it before, when children died and men and women at his feet pleaded for mercy. It was... almost a relief to let go, to just forget what the games felt like when they weren’t being played. Better than what happened when Kili Durinson got angry, when Kili Durinson woke up and tried to kick out, fight back. They didn’t like Kili Durinson much. It was easier to let him go back to sleep.

But the illusion of Marian didn’t seem to think so.

He had to hand it to them: for a trick or a hallucination she was dreadfully lifelike. The attention to detail was impressive, from her clothes down to that shouty thing she did when Kili Durinson was being an idiot - and he often was - but pleasant lies were still lies, no matter how well they were told. Hell, he was almost relieved at the yelp of pain echoing from her cell, lips that had almost forgotten how stretching into a slightly deranged smirk. That made more sense, that pain, but they still weren’t quite doing it right. In his nightmares she screamed and sobbed, and there was no running about and crashing into things. You didn’t move when they played games, or they got angry. Marian was good at not making people angry at her.

The hallucination spoke, jubilant and brutal between gasps for breath, and his smile became a rictus. “ I saw. ” He told it, watching her unblinking. “ Don’t know why you bother. You’ll go away soon. ” Why was it still talking? Was this some kind of test? He wanted to put his hands over his ears, to shut it out and go back into oblivion, but the illusion wouldn’t stop.

“ Shut up. ” He hissed, shaking his head violently. “ Shut up. You know how many. Two for the arms, one for the bullet, you know that. Shut up and leave me alone ”

twinxtalons

He’d always wondered about people who played around with time - folk who said that time could slow ‘til hours felt like years, or went by much too fast. He’d thought them silly, melodramatic -- and now it seemed he owed them all an apology. Seconds felt like centuries, and when she froze it felt even longer than that. Time was a crawl, time had stopped altogether, and the only way it would start again would be if Marian would just bloody move... even if it was to condemn him once and for all.

But either he’d finally gone crazy or someone up there had finally taken pity on this hapless duo. Time unfroze, and if this were a movie this would be the part where the strings started up, all gentle and mushy as her fingers drifted over three-day stubble. “ In mine it’s sunny. ” Said a voice he was pretty sure was his, albeit far more stupified than usual. It wasn’t supposed to be this easy. She was supposed to yell, throw things, call him names, all the shit he deserved and more. He’d convince her he was worth giving another shot, perhaps even starting again from scratch. In real life he was supposed to earn her forgiveness, not get it in ten seconds flat.

But if this was a fantasy world, then fetch him a fucking unicorn, because Kieran was on board with it and then some.

“ Pancakes all around then. ” Said that same odd-sounding voice, cracking a little as they moved again, one of them, he wasn’t sure who, closing the gap between them until they were almost nose to nose. “ With strawberries and chocolate or whatever you want---- Wait, hang on, ‘scuse me a second---”

He twisted, unwilling to disentangle himself fully from her grip, and without missing a beat slammed his fist on the desk -- right next to the intercom speaker. Stereo yelps erupted from the other side of the office door, and Kieran’s face split into a broad grin.

The intercom light blinked off.

“ Sneaky buggers, ” He crowed, and that grin showed no signs of budging as he turned to meet her again -- nor did he slow this time, closing the gap completely to press his lips to hers.

“ Sorry if I ruined the moment. ”

twinxtalons

Kieran visibly flinched, looking very much like he wanted to back away as she froze, all wrath and desperate indignation -- but he didn’t move an inch. It was like he had frozen in time, mouth hanging open, red-rimmed eyes wide and staring as her tirade poured over him, words that hurt and thrilled in equal measure. He opened his mouth, shut it again, trying desperately to make some sense of all that.

Because if she didn’t want to.... if she really wanted him...

And just like that, the last thread of his self-restraint snapped and it all came pouring out.

But if hers was a flood, his was a tidal wave.

“ I---- I went to see her.” He burst out, hands balling into fists on Varric’s poor upholstery. “ My ex. About two weeks ago. She was still trying to talk: texts, emails, all that stuff and I just... ” He let his breath hiss out through his teeth, unable to meet her eye. “ I told her it was a shitty thing to do, to play with someone’s head like that. I told her she’d had her chance and she wasn’t going to fuck with my life any more, not now that I had someone I actually---- that wanted more than just attention and ass-kissing. ”

“ She--- god, she flipped, Marian. Said all these horrible, ugly things, and I just thought... why the fuck didn’t I see this before? It was like she’d torn the blindfold off and I saw this--- this bitter, hateful witch. This lying, manipulative... and looked at her and I thought---- this is pathetic. This is fucking nuts. What did I ever see in this? She was crying and yelling and I didn’t feel anything--- I just felt sorry for her. ”

His hands were white-knuckled on the chair, desperate to reach out, to remove the barrier between them, but he didn’t dare. God, even with her clothes in shambles and her hair a mess, she still looked so beautiful, so wonderfully, refreshingly ordinary. She didn’t care if her hair was out of place, or if she dropped ketchup on her shirt when they ordered food from that crap takeaway on the corner. She was---- Marian. Honest, funny Marian, who never played games or told stupid lies to mess with his head. Marian, who was sexy as hell dancing around in his shirt and bare feet as she was dressed up to the nines.

Marian Durinson, who wanted to stay that way despite all the shit he’d put her through.

“ I’m so sorry. ” He croaked, and this time he could feel the tears prickling behind his eyes, hot and heavy. “ I’m sorry Marian, I’m really sorry. I never should’ve---- I’m such an asshole, and an idiot, and----- putting you through all this was the worst thing I’ve ever done and I’m sorry. But God, Marian... seeing her again, seeing her compared to you---- I don’t want her. I want--- I want our flat and cuddling up on the couch watching movies and your loony friends driving me crazy. I want you. I missed you so damn badly and I was so sure I’d blown it.”

He moved as though wading through treacle, stepping away from that damn chair and around it, inching closer as though afraid he might spook her. He’d forgotten how much smaller than him she was, how much anger she could pack into that tiny frame, and for good reason. Now though, that anger was tinged with desperation, with hope. Hope that he’d make a decision he should have made long ago.

“ Please... tell me what I need to do to make it up to you. What can I do for you to take me back? ”

twinxtalons

“ What? No! No, of course I wasn’t----- ” He stopped, visibly cringing as his brain caught up with his goddamn mouth. “ ----No, that’s bullshit. You’re right. I didn’t know you’d be here. I just... Varric came by yesterday wanting to talk about everything that’s been going on and I-----  shit. ”

He took another step, then another, until he hit the back of the chair Varric had vacated, a plush, appallingly chintzy thing with a tall back he’d bet money the therapist hadn’t picked out himself. He stayed like that for a while, hands gripping the back of the chair as he fought to keep the bile from rising in his throat. Shit, why couldn’t he have done this sober? His hangover was back in full force, head pounding, mouth dry... or perhaps it was that resignation in her voice, the bitter truth that she’d thought he was gone. Gone for good, and she’d hoped he wouldn’t be.

God, that was a punch in the gut.

“ I’m sorry. ” He blurted out, his mouth moving without orders from his brain, “ I’m sorry Varric dragged you into this and---- and I’m sorry about not calling. Or texting. Or---- anything. I just---- figured after what I did you’d need some space, just for a while. But--- but then ‘a while’ became a few weeks, and then it was months and... I don’t know. I’m just stupid, I guess. And a coward. I just---- I didn’t know what to say. ”

He still didn’t, and god, if that didn’t make him want to scream in frustration. If Varric had just told him what he was planning he could have thought of something to say, maybe acted on all those plans he’d been mulling over -- but then, if he hadn’t acted on them before, what the hell made today any different? She hadn’t been there when he was daydreaming and planning and never doing a damn thing about them, and now that she was his brain was a complete mess. All he knew was that she was here, and that she looked horrible. And beautiful. And so, so sad.

“ Do you want me to go? ” He sounded so small, to his own ears, a kid who’d fucked up and damn well knew it. “ I---- If you want me to, I’ll go. This is your space and it’s private a-and... I’ll tell Varric to come back in and we’ll do this right. All the legal stuff and shit. If you want me to. ”

“ Or... if you don’t, we could... talk for a while? ”

twinxtalons

This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. He’d kept on drinking after Varric left and this was some kind of fucked-up dream after he’d moved on to the rum. The rum always screwed with his head. There was no way Varric had pulled this kind of bait and switch on him.

Except that this was exactly the sort of thing that Varric would do.

He didn’t have the space inside him to be angry. Shocked, maybe, definitely dumbfounded, but with his entire being focused on the woman sitting across from him, anger wasn’t a word in his vocabulary at that moment. The first time in two, three months? He’d wondered about it before, whether he’d just meet her on the street one day, or at the pub she liked once he’d worked up the courage to go back there on the off chance that maybe, just maybe... He’d imagined it’d be sunny, and the beer garden would be open and the crappy old sunshades up over the tables. She’d be sitting with a bottle of beer -- the good kind they only let you have if you had a tab -- and she’d be so surprised to see him when he put the next bottle in front of her. And the flowers. Sometimes it was roses, or those huge daisies from Merrill’s shop in every colour they had, but it was always beer and flowers. Marian wasn’t the sort of girl to settle for less than that. He’d---- he’d tell her he was sorry. He’d ask her-----

None of that was happening now, though. There was no pub garden and no flowers, he was hungover and she was staring at him as though he’d broken her heart all over again. And none of it mentioned the A-word. Not ever.

“ Annullment? ” Shit. It felt as though the floor had vanished beneath him, his stomach sinking to his shoes. “ Did you? I--- I didn’t... ”

“ And that’s my cue to leave. ” Dusting off his corduroys, Varric rose, his smirk far too wide for this depressing circus show. “ You kids keep it PG, alright? ” And before either of them could stop him - as if they even had the wherewithal to do so, he made his escape, the door snapping shut behind him.

What followed had to be one of the most excruciating silences of Kili’s life to date.

“ He... ” Kieran swallowed, his throat suddenly much too dry. It could have been the hangover, but the redness around her eyes was a much safer bet. She looked like she’d been drinking, or---- no, for his own self-preservation, he was going to say drinking, and he would not ask himself why.

He failed.

“ ...I had an appointment. I didn’t---- ‘Come at three’, he said. I’d drank quite a bit, but I’m pretty sure that’s what he said. I didn’t expect you’d... you look----- ”

Terrible. Exhausted. Downright fucking tragic.

“ You look really great, Marian. ”

twinxtalons

“ You told her? ”

“ What the fuck else was I supposed to do? ” Kieran was on his feet now, empty shot glass in a hand that was shaking far more than he was willing to admit. Snagging a beer from the rapidly diminishing six pack, he shot Varric the latest of a long series of glares. “ Let her think I didn’t care? ”

“ ‘Course not, but telling her you loved her as you’re walking out probably wasn’t the best time. ”

“ Then what was the best time? ” Varric didn’t have an answer to that, and Kieran’s glare switched to his beer for a time, downing several gulps with little care for the froth that fizzed over onto the cheap rug. “ Fucks sake, Varric, I know I screwed up, but what the fuck else was I supposed to do? That--- that witch would’ve ruined everything if I let her -- at least this way I wasn’t being played like a puppet on a fucking string. I had to sort it out, I---- I had to sort me out. She didn’t sign up for this bullshit, and I couldn’t ask her to wait for me when she’s got enough to worry about----- ”

“ Did you ever ask her if she wanted to? ”

“ Oh, fuck you, Varric. ” He crumpled up the can and tossed it hard at the waste paper basket. It bounced right out again and rolled behind the sofa. “ If you’re not gonna say anything useful---- ”

“ -----Actually, I will. Just not here. ” Rising from his chair remarkably sober, a slick little business card appeared in his stubby fingers. “ Head by around three o’clock tomorrow and we’ll go from there. We’ll get you straight, kid, just trust me. ”

The knock at the door game after quite a while of agonizing in the waiting room, fists clenching and unclenching while he resisted the urge to tear last year’s Good Housekeeping into shreds. Eventually it was the baleful stare of Varric’s secretary, a quiet and yet oddly intense woman called Orana, that got him moving, slouching up the stairs as though each step were painted with treacle.

But all stairs run out sooner or later, and soon enough a dark head peered around Varric’s office door. A disheveled, clearly hungover head, but a very familiar one.

“ Varric? Everything okay? You said around three, but if you’ve got another client, I can----- ”

He stopped, half in the room, half out, and utterly thunderstruck. Red-rimmed eyes moved from Varric, cool as a cucumber, to---- oh, sweet Jesus, she was wearing that shirt, the one with the plaid and the one button sewn back on a little loose. She’d worn it to bed once or twice. She---- shit.

“ You sneaky son of a bitch. ”

twinxtalons

The sound of his name made the spectre at the window blink, a slow, sluggish thing as though he had forgotten how. His brow furrowed beneath the red and the purple, the stitches and the surgical staples, but for the longest time he didn’t say a word, watching her carefully as she fought to keep control like her breakdown were a mildly interesting television program.

Funny. They never usually talked. Sometimes they smiled at him, usually they screamed, but they didn’t talk.

“ Marian Hawke. ” He rasped in a voice so dull and hoarse it hardly sounded like his own. When had he last spoken aloud? The faceless peacekeepers did not like voices unless they were their own. They liked you quiet, and when they didn’t, they wanted you good and loud.

He didn’t want to be loud. Not for them. No Capitol games.

“ Marian Hawke. ” He said again, and those black, bruised eyes stayed steadily fixed upon hers, never moving and never truly seeing. “ District Seven. Not here. Out there. With the people. Somewhere. Out there somewhere, not here. You can’t have her. ”

His world was not her world. Here they took and they took until there was nothing left to take, searching for the treasures you buried deep as they could go until they ran out of questions and their shiny, sharp tools were no longer clean. They couldn’t take what wasn’t here, and she was out there, where they were sick of the people who tried to take and they were giving back what they didn’t want and the faceless people and painted men didn’t like that. The faceless people and painted men didn’t like anything, but they were out there, and the things they were giving back were bombs and bullets and anger. He was good at anger. She was good at smiling. He wondered if she was smiling now.

No. She did not belong in here. She would never belong in this little world. Maybe dead, maybe alive. Maybe smiling, maybe not. But not here. Never, ever here. Out there somewhere.

How dare they ever think she belonged in here.

“ You’re not real. ” He said again, and this time it sounded like a threat. His lip curled back to show his teeth, close to the glass like a caged animal ready to spring. Claws rose to clutch the sill of his tiny window, five on one hand, three on the other. No pinky, no ring. “ No games. You’re not real and you can’t have her. ”