(A/N - I'm having so much fun writing the 92nd Hunger Games SYOT that I'm setting up another one. This one is set twenty-six years after that story and will contain SPOILERS for that fic. Do not read this one until you've read the 92nd Hunger Games. How can I start this one, when that one's not finished yet? Simple, I've planned out the ENTIRE PLOTLINE of my other SYOT. Yeah, I like to work ahead. I'll be working on both SYOTs, but mostly my first SYOT until it's finished. However, you CAN submit tributes for this one now.
Also let me know of any grammar/spelling mistakes you see. Bis dann~)
On chubby, toddler legs, I followed my mother to the shore. In the evening sun, the sand had already begun to cool. Perfect for sensitive feet.
Whenever we approached a small sanddune, someone grabbed my other hand and together, with my mother, lifted me off my feed. For a moment, I was flying. Then I land safely in the sand, giggling.
I looked up to find my mother smiling down at me. I didn't understand emotions very well at the time, so I didn't notice the sorrow in her eyes. Instead, I gazed at her beaming face in wonder. She was so beautiful with her golden-blonde hair curling around her face. Her eyes were clear blue like the ice that covers the streams in winter. Pure. Fragile. Yes, much like the ice, when the streams freeze.
Wearing a blue, lace dress, my mother was stunning at her age. Recently, she had lost weight, but I didn't care. Even if I could wrap my short arms around her calf, she was perfect in my eyes, the eyes of a child. Her child. Her son.
My elder sister and brother walked with us. It never crossed my mind that someone was missing. I mean, Grandma was with us too, so who else could there be?
Releasing my hand, my mother gave me silent permission to go play in the surf. Eagerly, I waddled down to the rolling sea. The waves rarely ceased, yet the ocean was calm. Shoving my feet into the soggy mush, I slopped around on the beach. Testing my bravery, I ventured out as far as I dared.
Suddenly, the tide came back in and water swirled around my ankles. The water kept rising. Shrieking, I ran back up to my mother and hug her leg. Tears brimming, I babbled nonsense while she stroked the yellow, peach fuzz on my head. Under her soothing touch, I calmed down.
Sitting down, my mother pulled me into her lap. My sister joined us while my brother stood nearby, his arms crossed, while he stared into the distance. Random mutterings meant Grandma was behind us. Together, the five of us watched the sun sink into the ocean: a dying fireball merging with the sea.
I reached out to touch it; to grasp it in my hand.
Before the sunlight faded completely, my mother pulled out two wicker baskets. They're filled with seashells and candles. One had a knotted piece of string while the other held a pair of white shells known as Angel Wings.
I'm young to know how to read, but I can tell there's something carefully carved on their surface.
Kissing them, my mother reluctantly placed them in the other basket.
Gasping, Grandma snatched the knotted piece of rope. My mother had to coax her into putting it back.
Finally, my mother lit the candles and I clapped my hands in approval. The light from the candles pierced the gloom and I became fixated on it. I followed the baskets as my mother carried them in her arms. I watched as she waded into the surf. I sat, mesmerized, as she gently placed the wicker baskets in the water.
The tide did the rest.
Twin beacons of light. Somehow they stayed together even as they floated further and further out to sea. Through the early night shadows, I could still see them.
They are mere orbs now. Miniature suns sailing the open sea.
They are wisps now. Fairies playing in the surf.
They are stars now. Distantly twinkling, ever bright.
Face glowing, I wondered if my mother's face was sprinkled with stardust. I don't notice the tears streaming down her face. I just see the shine of her eyes. I don't hear the words she mutters into the salty breeze. I just hear the waves crashing into land.
When we can no longer find the light, we get up to leave. My mother helps Grandma walk on unsteady legs. I remain sitting.
My siblings soon follow after, but I stay still. I want to know what that is.
With the stars reflected on its surface, the ocean gives birth to a man. He rises up from its depths and I can't make out his face. Suddenly, his hair erupts into flames.
I'm not afraid; there's something hauntingly familiar about this man of the sea.
Like a tiger hiding in the brush, his eyes glow a blue-green. I can believe he drank the sea up into his eyes.
Stepping onto the sand, I catch something dangling at his neck. He pauses to lift up the Angel Wings and kiss them softly. Then he spots me and smiles. I see his lips move.
"I've wanted to meet you...Jaeger." Carried on the warm breeze comes his equally warm voice.
Picking me up into his strong arms, I can't find any reason to be afraid of him. I don't remember ever seeing him before, but he smells like fish and the sea, so I instantly like him.
"One day, you're going to ask where I've gone, why I'm not around to watch you grow up." His eyes are round and conflicted, like he's happy and sad but doesn't want to be either.
"I can't tell you where I'm going. Not that you'd understand anyway." He smiles a little and strokes my pudgy cheek with his thumb.
"But I want you to know I love you. I need you to know that, at least. If you were to remember any of this when you're older, I want it to be how much I care for you, how much I love you, and how much I want to protect you. The same way I was with your mother in that Arena-" He cuts himself short like he's startled at what he said.
I just babble and stroke his bare chest, excited that he's the fire I can touch, unlike with the sun.
His chest vibrates and I bounce in his arms as he laughs.
It's a laugh I won't forget.
Stroking my hair, he kisses my forehead before setting me down at his feet.
"Jaeger? Jaeger!" It's my mother's voice.
Emerging from the path in the woods, she scoops me up into her arms and hugs me tightly.
"Jaeger! Oh, Jaeger, I thought I had lost you," she breathes in my ear.
I squirm in her grasp. I want her to see the man of the sea. Twisting in her arms, I point.
"Baba," I mewl, trying out these things called "words."
"Huh? What is it, Jaeger? What do you see?" asks my mother, confused.
I point away from us only to discover the man has vanished. There's only the wicker basket, still flickering, rocking with the waves.
"Baba?" I don't get it. Where did he go?
"Baba? Dada? Daddy? Did you see Daddy, Jaeger?" Her voice rises in pitch as she grows hopeful.
Daddy? Daddy...Dada...yeah, that sounds right.
I nod my head and smile at her, hoping she'll be proud of my discovery. Instead, she ignores me for a moment to stare out to sea. Her blue eyes are searching.
Hoping to see the ocean staring back at her…
...in the eyes of the Man of the Sea.
