LVII: The Capitol - Aureole Exhibition Hall and Event Center.
Icarus Devereux, 17
Applicant #10
It's a good thing they had gotten used to the stares.
Boy were they getting them now. Everyone's eyes were bulging out of their heads as if the worst person in existence had just walked into the room, which he thought was a little harsh. They weren't that bad.
Were they?
There was no sign of Pandora or Evander, but they would know of the imminent arrival eventually. He could imagine Kerensa was about ready to find the first one of them she could in the crowd and put them on the floor right then and there. It was happening tomorrow anyway, so he couldn't see anyone doing anything about it. Not with her position in things.
"Do we even know this is really a charity thing?" he asks and Emmi snorts. He hasn't seen hide nor hair of anything actually indicating it was; weren't they typically more obvious about that kind of shit, especially here? The Capitol needed all the good looks it could get.
"That would be implying that anything she does is out of the goodness of her own heart," Soran points out. Alright, touché. It's not like he's ever spoken to her himself but the look in her eyes two nights ago was bad enough. She got joy out of beating them down even when they were already an inch from the ground, he could tell. And maybe he was an awful person, but he wasn't that bad.
Again - hopefully.
"Alright, everyone scatter," Emmi says. "Stay lowkey, keep your eyes peeled. I'm gonna start looking."
She splits off easy as pie and disappears into the crowd without so much of a blink. Tarquin gives one look to the man passing by them with a tray of food and starts to follow him, much to the man's dismay. Ria is quick to follow.
Okay, so that split was easier than expected. It almost even looked sort of natural; people aren't staring at them even more than they already were, and it looks like it's harder for them to do so with increasingly smaller numbers. Maybe they feel awkward about putting so much attention on only two people.
It's more likely that ever present we've both killed people outside of the valley aura going on. Other people must be able to feel it too.
"You seen either of them yet?" he asks, snatching up a flute of champagne from a passing woman, who gives him a look as if he's about to smash her over the head with it.
It's tempting.
"Nope."
It feels like they scattered the same way, both of them. It's like they know.
They couldn't possibly, but it feels that way.
Evander is the first person he recognizes to catch sight of them, and he feigns surprise for a very long drawn-out moment. He's no A-List actor, but it'll do. No one's really looking at him to be able to tell the difference anyway.
"Go talk to him," he instructs Soran. "Make it look believable for a few minutes until Emmi finds something, and then I'll come get you."
And Soran listens, miraculously, without so much as a complaint in response. What a backwards world they live in now.
For the next few minutes, once he's left alone, he lets himself drift aimlessly through the crowd. It's nice to do something without a total, all-consuming purpose behind it for once, even if he knows there will be eventually. He's just wandering about until he has a reason not to, and he's looking for that reason. Tarquin and Ria have disappeared for good. Soran's still off in the corner talking to Evander, and whatever they're discussing actually looks more than halfway real. There's still no sign of Pandora, but he hasn't spotted Kerensa either, so maybe that's for the best.
Emmi, it turns out, comes easier than expected. She's not hard to spot in the first place and even less so now. Up on the second floor she looks down at him, gives him a vague but subtle hand gesture, and then heads off down the hall.
Alright, show-time.
He strides off into the corner, pushing his way through the fringes of the crowd, and drops his empty champagne glass on the edge of the bar before he snatches Soran around the elbow.
"Hello," he says. "Goodbye."
Before he can get any further Evander grabs his other arm, so that Soran is caught between the two of them as if unfortunately stuck in the middle during tug of war. Icarus can't see his face but can't imagine he's pleased at the development.
"Be careful," Evander insists.
"Always am," Soran says with a smile, tugging his arm free from Evander's grip. Icarus pulls him away and to the opposite side of the room before he can do anything else to make it worse.
"She got one?" Soran continues. He keeps quiet, avoiding the few stares they get as he pulls Soran up the stairs after him and onto the second floor. Emmi's gone, but that's a good sign. It's all going according to the plan.
"She has to," he answers, once they've pulled away from all the people. Emmi wouldn't signal for him otherwise. They've thought this through even more than they normally would have to make sure that nothing could possibly go wrong. It still could; he knows that. When things can they usually do.
"You gotta go," Soran says. "Go meet her before something happens."
"Not yet."
There's no one in sight. If someone has gone this way then they need to make sure whoever it is hasn't left. What if they doubled back as soon as Emmi took off? Dealing with Sentinels means they never actually know what they're dealing with, and he's not leaving Soran alone until he has an idea. That wasn't part of this. He's not leaving.
The hallway is empty, but around the next corner he can hear someone talking, a hushed tone. Hiding seems smart, so that's not what he does.
There's nothing even mildly intelligent about any of this.
He rounds the corner still tugging Soran after him, and he stands there for a long moment with Eleine at the next junction before she even notices them at all. When she does she goes abruptly still and apparently very rudely hangs up on whoever she had been speaking to as if they didn't matter at all, pocketing the phone inside her jacket.
Icarus can't exactly tell what she's feeling, and he can't blame the distance. She's not inscrutable. No one truly is. She's not as well trained as she could be either, not even close. She hasn't learned all the tricks of the trade.
If he had to guess, she almost looks afraid. It's of what that he can't pinpoint.
Is she really scared of them?
"What you do to him?" she asks, just loud enough that they can hear. No one else is around to hear the echo.
And maybe that's what's getting to her.
"I mean, if you want to find out, we can do that," Soran says. "I can kill you the same way I killed him."
Icarus never thought he would have to be grateful for the absence of a fire poker in his entire, unfortunately rather short life, but he is. There's going to be a mess tonight, that he's sure of, but nothing on that level.
He hopes, anyway.
Ever since they appeared Eleine has been steadily inching backwards, but he lets her. They've got a lot of time. Not all of it in the world, but he knows where this is going. She, unfortunately for her, doesn't. She might be running instead of inching away if she did. She reaches the next corner unscathed and turns it, keeping an eye on them all the way as she rounds it and vanishes. He knows he doesn't have to, but he still feels the urge to take off after her.
"You gotta go," Soran tells him again. For this to actually work he has to, you know, do his part in it. That part mostly involves not leaving Emmi alone during all of this, which indirectly means leaving Soran alone, even for a moment while he follows her. It's no wonder he doesn't fucking like any of this one bit.
"I know, I know. Fuck. Okay."
He's still holding onto his hand, which is sort of a problem. If he could let go any second now that would be helpful. He thought he wasn't scared, but maybe it's not this that's scaring him. Maybe it's what comes after.
He knows what's coming.
He still forces himself to let go. "Just— fuck, just be careful okay? I'm serious. For the sake of my own fucking sanity, please be careful."
Soran grabs his arm, and for once he's not loathe to admit that it makes him feel ten times better. "You be careful, idiot," he says, and then drags him back to kiss him.
And he hates it. He hates how fucking much he doesn't hate it and how easy it would be to just stay here forever and let things run their course, but they can't do that. Maybe he really is awful if that's what he wants. It's like he said earlier - the whole world could burn for them to live through this and he really wouldn't care at all, not anymore.
"Go," Soran says, pulling back. "Don't fuck up our plan."
He's smiling like he knows what tomorrow's going to look like, and he doesn't. And he steps away, too, which means Icarus has no choice but to back up himself and leave. He can't be the reason this doesn't work.
It's not just tonight. It's all of it.
Soran's still smiling when he rounds the corner after her; Icarus can safely say he's not, but at least something settles in his stomach when he finally loses sight of him. This is why they're doing this, because he's going to have it until the bitter fucking end. He's going to have his way no matter who likes it, and he knows thousands of people don't.
They're not what matter. They never have. What matters is what's not with him, what just left him.
And he's going to get that back.
Fuck what the ending says.
Emmi Langlois, 17
Applicant #13
Something in her wants to lock the doors.
She quite literally can't though. It's not an option. There's the back door, the one she came through and the one that should be opening any minute now, and the one ten feet in front of her. It's the last room in this wing, the last door leading to the emergency exit that she came through in the first place.
And well, locking them would sort of defeat the purpose.
Waiting is bad, though. She's never been the pinnacle of patience, but every thirty seconds or so she's wondering what could have happened instead of what's supposed to.
It's a whole multitude of bad things that end up coming to mind. You can say they're not dangerous all they like, but that's not the truth.
They survived. Emmi knows how dangerous that is.
The door opens behind her and she jumps, clutching the gun tighter. Icarus slips in and closes the door behind him, flipping the lock up.
"You sure about that?" he asks, eyeing it. "We're locking ourselves in here with her."
"Or the opposite."
"Do you really believe that?"
Emmi's not personally a huge fan of imagining this turning into an all out fight, so she's choosing to believe that Eleine, and Eriska for that matter, aren't armed to the teeth. The whole point of this is that she gets to die believing she did something on her own terms. She's not letting one of them get her first.
Icarus is still staring at her, but she doesn't have the words to articulate that aloud.
"Is everyone okay, you think?" she asks instead.
"As long as she hasn't turned back, they should be. There's nowhere else for her to go if Soran keeps after her. Tarquin and Ria should be fine out there until we get back. Besides, Pandora and Evander are both out there too keeping an eye on things."
It would be easier for her mentally if they were all together, if there was nothing to worry about except for what was about to happen in this room.
Eriska is still out there, though, and it would take all of two seconds for her to slip out and disappear if no one's watching her.
Someone has to do that, and someone has to do this.
When it's her faced with Eleine, it didn't seem like much of a choice.
She barely has time to swing herself to the left of the door, away from the direct line of sight, as she hears the footsteps pattering down the hall outside. The door swings in and she comes face to face with Eleine, although she lasers in on Icarus first, still standing closer to the second door.
Her few steps inside clearly come at a rush, her feet moving quicker to take her away faster. It doesn't give her enough time to backpedal with Soran nearly on her heels.
He slams the door behind her and puts himself between them. If she's getting out, she's going through one of them.
The window on the far wall could be an option, too, but she doesn't think Sentinels are immune to heights. Even if she happened to survive she wouldn't be getting anywhere fast.
Emmi wouldn't let her, either.
"Nice plan," Eleine says. "How long have you been planning this?"
"Only a few days," she answers. "Since, y'know, Andere broke in and you used it the next day to get us killed."
"To be fair, that's what the President always wanted."
"But he doesn't know what you are."
Eleine raises an eyebrow. "Do you think I'd be here right now if he did?"
There are too many secrets to be permanently kept in a place like this. There are too many people working against that. It should make her feel better that the President doesn't know about any of this, but he still wants them dead and always did. He didn't care who he had to use to make that happen.
To him, Eleine and Andere just had to say the words. Do a job that was never really theirs.
"You're pretty good at it, killing people," Eleine continues. "You've killed more people than I have."
"That's how you're going to play this?"
"It wasn't my idea. I don't take the fall for it."
"Participating is just as bad," Icarus points out. "You didn't even hate the Capitol that badly and you went along with it anyway - you still are. All because she wanted you to?"
"So you know about her?" Eleine asks. "She had her whole life stolen. Wouldn't you do the same thing if yours was? Take revenge on the people who stole it?"
"What do you call what's happening to us, then?" she wonders. "Was ours not stolen too? You think the solution to a life getting stolen is to do the same thing to twenty-four more?"
Eleine shrugs. "Sounds about right to me."
She could shoot her right now; Eleine's not reaching for a hidden weapon, not moving any closer to one of the available exits. There's really nowhere to go for her that ends well. When Emmi found her in the first place it had looked as if she was about to leave, and maybe she was. Get away while she still could, and all that. If Emmi had been a few minutes later she just might have.
But here they are, in what feels like a similar situation. One person about to die, the other headed towards it anyway. Who knows if this will fix anything at all.
"I get why you're angry," Eleine says. "I get it. You're almost angry enough to be one of us. It's a shame you're not older, really. You all would've made fine Sentinels all those years ago. Sentinels, imagine that? Think of how many people you could've killed then."
She's good with her number, believe it or not. Ideally after tonight she'd like to stop, but she's always done what she had to.
To survive.
"At least what I did I did to survive," she says aloud. "What did you do it for? Why did you kill my dad of all people?"
Eleine actually looks thoughtful, as if she's about to come up with something good. Emmi thinks that maybe after all of this she deserves an actual explanation.
It would be nice, for once.
"Why not?" Eleine settles on eventually. "Why are you doing this?"
It's the truth, and she knows it. For once it doesn't rise as bitterness in her throat, nor does the bad feeling that comes along with admitting it.
She won't be apologetic for being human.
She raises the gun. "Because I want to," she says, and pulls the trigger.
It's almost insignificant. The finality is lackluster, she soon comes to realize. Death never makes anything better, and she would never say she feels happy, exactly. It's something else.
Eleine sags to the ground on her knees, first. The bullet hit somewhere in the middle of her chest over the breastbone; perhaps not instantly fatal, but good enough. More than fucking good enough, if you ask her. At the end of the day it doesn't matter who did what. It just matters that it happened. Take revenge on the people who stole what was yours, what you had... it's just like Eleine said.
It doesn't take longer than a minute or two, the end of which ends with Eleine face down on the floor. There's not even that much blood.
Easier to clean up.
"That make you feel better?" Soran asks, nudging her with the toe of his shoe. She doesn't move.
Emmi nods. "Does it make me a terrible person to admit that?"
"Nah. One of you help me with this, we gotta get outta here and find Tarquin and Ria. Y'know, preferably before she finds them."
She nods again, or maybe she never stopped, but doesn't step forward to help. She just kind of... needs a second. Icarus eventually steps around her when she doesn't move, giving her a silent look. She knows what the means; it's just a check in to make sure that everything is still chugging along in her brain. Nothing ever stopped.
It just took a brief pause in order to settle on her body, the gun hanging limply from her hand.
One down, one more to go. One more small blip on the radar in the grand scheme that is everything.
And isn't that what her life's always been, even up until now?
Everything's changed, and nothing has.
It's almost comforting.
Almost.
Isperia Martorell, 16
Applicant #17
They didn't hear anything.
That was the point, as far as she knows. Lure one far enough away that the other couldn't intervene, and so no one would be able to hear whatever eventually happened. A gunshot would ring out in this place like it was made to echo if they did it anywhere else.
The crowd is still chattering away, though. It's completely deafening.
"I can barely hear myself think," Tarquin mutters, leaning down so that she can hear him. She's been getting swallowed up by this crowd since the second she stepped foot into it. Even now it almost feels like no one cares. It still feels like she's still the unimportant factor in the equation.
Or maybe she just fades into the background better now. Black hair and all that.
It's that or Evander lurking about behind them is getting to people. It's probably that. He's at least mildly scary when he wants to be and definitely a lot bigger and taller than them both. Anyone who gives them too long of a look doesn't last long with him standing there.
"She's been gone for a few minutes now," Evander says, looking around. "She didn't go after them."
"She stayed down here?"
"I think so. But she's definitely not in this room."
She can't even see over anyone's head to tell if that's true, so it's his word against the world evidently. She has to trust it because she has no other option.
"Are you guys still meeting near the back?"
"We're supposed to be."
"Go, then," he says. "I'm gonna head up there and... check."
Check to make sure everything went as planned, she hopes. There's been no sign of any commotion, so hopefully that's a good thing. If something had happened she feels like she'd know, or at least she hopes she would. She'd feel something like that, right?
Tarquin begins to carve a path out through the crowd, gently nudging people out of the way mostly for her benefit, she suspects, so people stop trampling all over her with their spiky looking shoes. Evander wants until they've cleared most of the masses before he splits away.
The next hallway over is blissfully empty compared to the main ballroom. There are still people lurking at the edges, engaged in quiet conversation, but most are so absorbed they don't even glance up.
The ones that do don't last very long.
"They're okay, right?" Tarquin asks, once they've managed their way past the people. "Like nothing bad happened?"
"Evander wouldn't have left them alone if he thought something was going to."
"And Pandora has to still be keeping an eye on her. Right?"
She's not good at being the reassuring one, okay? If she isn't though they're almost certainly both headed for a breakdown about the possible prospects by the end of the night. Then she'll start wondering about the chances of all three of them somehow being dead at Eleine's hand, and well...
It's bad, is all she's saying.
She's trying not to rush, though it feels like they should be running. There's no real reason to. No one's chasing them anymore.
The people who want them dead are taking their sweet time.
Besides, the room they've designated isn't all that far anyway, just tucked away near the back exit to the gardens. It just looked like a sitting room when Pandora showed them, the back wall lined with floor to ceiling windows. It would be a nice place to sit in the afternoon, to kick back and relax. To worry about nothing at all.
It's isolated. Far away from the main event.
It's the exact same as the one upstairs where things hopefully just went their way.
Tarquin opens the door once they arrive, and simultaneously, before he's even got it all the way, they both turn to look behind them. She knows there's nothing, but that's what it feels like. She's never lost the feeling of someone chasing her even weeks later.
There was never going to be anyone.
Well, except for Eriska, standing in the room before them.
Ria loses all of the air collected in her lungs in two very quick, abrupt seconds. Her first thought is run. It's also conveniently the most stupid.
Eriska smiles at the two of them. It's a lot like the smile she gave Ria all the way back at the hospital, and it seemed genuine then. There's no telling what it is now. She looks casual, drink in hand and looking out one of the long windows. What about her wouldn't look casual, though - she's a tiny wisp of a sixty year old woman. In what world would she ever look dangerous?
"Hello," she casually. "Looking for something in particular?"
She's unable to come up with anything, no surprise there. Tarquin smiles though, just as bright. She's hoping only she can tell how fake it is, because his knuckles have gone white around the edge of the door.
"Just the bathroom," he says. She wishes she had any sort of ability to turn on a conversation like that. "Sorry. Do you know where it is?"
But yeah, the bathroom. With her in tow. Likely story.
"There was a whole set of them just outside the ballroom," Eriska informs them. "There was a sign pointing them out past the bar."
Ria remembers that sign, actually. A past version of her would have chosen to hide behind it for the entire night, which is what she wishes she could do right now.
"Got it," Tarquin says. "Sorry about that, again. We'll be—"
"You can come in, if you like," she offers. "And close the door."
It's one of the worst moments of her life, by far, and she's had a lot of those types lately. She hasn't wished for a hole to disappear into in a very long time, and right now she wants one big enough for the both of them. They need to vanish.
"Or you could leave, and I could shoot one of you," she says. "You'll find out who if you try."
She knows. That's not good. She wants to ask who told her, but she also never wants to speak again. Keeping quiet might be the better option. If they run, she's going to shoot Tarquin. Ria just knows that. He'll be the bigger and easier target. If he goes down Eriska has her too by proxy; she couldn't run after that.
Sixty years old, but she still knows what she's doing.
Tarquin steps into the room, eyes firmly forward. She hasn't moved, is the issue. What's she going to do with the drink in her hand, throw it at them? How quickly could she really get a gun out to shoot them? Hopefully not quick enough, but Ria's not about to test that theory. In fact, it's looking a lot like she's going to continue cowering behind Tarquin all while hoping he doesn't get shot either.
He inches the door closed behind them until it clicks shut; the others will be here in a few minutes, too.
How perfect.
"Who told you?" Tarquin asks. He's feigning calm, an enviable trait, but when she grabs a handful of his shirt against his back she can feel him shaking.
It won't last forever.
"You think someone had to tell me?" she fires back. She almost seems offended, as if it was intended as an accusation. "I've been around a lot longer than you, kid. Question is how did it take you so long to figure out? Who did?"
"Does that really matter?"
"Well, I'd like to know." She shrugs and takes another sip of her drink. To think she could be a slightly younger replacement for Ria's grandmother - it makes absolutely no sense.
"And what if I don't tell you?"
"Well, I won't force you. I could, but I won't."
"Good to know."
So she won't force them, but she'll consider shooting them? She'd know how to make it hurt, how to kill them instantly and how to draw it out. She's been at it for years. She wanted them dead quick, initially, but it didn't happen. Now she's opting for the slow option.
She knows the rest are coming.
Eriska takes a few steps closer. For someone not much taller than herself she feels awfully terrified.
"Why Carnelia?" she asks finally. "You couldn't have been that close to her."
"Oh, I wasn't. A few of her original group, yes. I trained some of them myself. But I was in contact with her a few times over the years; she wasn't interested in a life other than the one she had."
"And that was killing."
"Surviving, more like. I told her she could do what she liked - kill everyone, if she wanted. Take the last of you and ransom you back to the Capitol. Whatever she liked. She just didn't get the chance. I understand that was your doing if I'm not mistaken."
"I didn't kill her," she manages.
"No, but you caused the explosion that directly killed two of them and led to the deaths of two others. With two of them left after that, what chance did they really have against the lot of you?"
"How does it feel to be the last of them left?" Tarquin asks. "The bad ones."
He's handling this so well, better than she ever could. If they somehow get out of this, and they won't, she'd like to ask him how he does it. Get a few pointers.
Ria really doesn't want to die with a bullet in her.
"So Eleine's gone, is she?" Eriska asks.
They don't know. Maybe, but they don't know for sure. Ria would like if she was. The person who killed her parents, dead... that seems justifiable.
Everything leads to that in the end.
Ria thinks she hears the footsteps first, a second before Tarquin goes tense all over. Eriska glances towards the door, too. If they're coming now that has to mean they did it. It's all according to the plan except for what's before her now.
This wasn't part of it.
The handle turns. Ria closes her eyes and forces them back open just as quick as the door heads in. She sees Emmi's face first, and then all of them. There's no running anymore. All three of them go abruptly still at the sight of it all; Ria would force them back out if she could, but there's no time.
"In," Eriska instructs. One of them swallows so loud she hears it. "Please."
"Or what?" Emmi asks. The gun isn't steady in her hand, and it isn't raised either. There's nothing she'll be able to do in time.
"Are you in the mood to find out?"
Soran nudges them both in, grabs the door, and slams it shut. Apparently not. She doesn't blame him.
"So," Eriska says. "Is she dead?"
There's a little bit of blood on Soran's hands, having seeped underneath his nails. There's a spot of it at the bottom of Icarus' shirt too, just a little dot that's not covered by the end of his jacket. Oh, she's dead alright. Ria's never felt gratitude for something like that like she does now. It's an odd feeling but she doesn't totally hate it.
So who's rubbing off on her, Soran or Emmi? Both of them? All of them?
Great.
"I'd like to know, if you'd be so forthcoming," Eriska says. Ria almost thinks she hears something outside, a figment of her imagination coming to save them, but nothing is. "What was your plan for me? The gun, and hope for the best? Something sneakier? I see the Mervaine's having been quite keenly on your side - poison, perhaps? That seems to have always been their thing. Physical poison, mental poison, all kinds. It doesn't always work, though. You see, poison isn't a guarantee. The Mervaine's aren't either. No one's invincible."
The door opens. She jolts so hard everything hurts; even her heart takes a beating from the simple action.
Everyone does the same at what she thought was her imagination, a desperate hope for nothing at all. She sees it with perfect clarity - the second the door opens and the swing as it comes all the way in, Pandora's face as she takes everything in quicker than Ria ever could, Evander just behind her in a similar state.
And the gun, too, in Pandora's hand. The barrel seemingly pointed almost straight at Ria's head, but she stays resolutely still.
Because it's not.
"It's a good thing I'm not a Mervaine, then," Pandora says. Ria holds her breath.
She pulls the trigger.
Soran Faerber, 19
Applicant #8
It happens so fast he has no time to process it.
The gun goes off. It's just shy of completely silent. It goes right past all of their heads, a straight line that would've ended badly any other way.
And somehow, miraculously, it misses all five of them, just like it was intended to.
He's been prepared for every single thing that's ever happened in his life, or at least that's what it's always felt like. Not this, though. Nothing could have prepared him for what he's looking at it. It's Eriska on the floor, a corpse. A bullet hole in her head and clear out the other side. It appears she's not a Mervaine either, because if she was she would have survived that.
It's Pandora still behind them, too, and Evander even further than that. He looks surprised too, just as surprised as the rest of them.
And it's the gun in her hand one bullet less, no thin trail of smoke like they always portray.
"What happened to you not intervening?" he asks. Her eyes flicker up to his, finally tearing away from the body on the floor, the rapidly forming pool of blood and brain that's seeped out everywhere. As he watches Ria rapidly backpedals as it starts to head in the direction of her shoes. Pandora is still silent, no doubt working away at a response.
She wasn't meant to be a murderer.
"I lost track of her," she explains, but her voice is thick. Sad. "And I had a really bad feeling."
Of course she's sad. That would've made him angry a few weeks ago, for someone to be so upset at someone that didn't deserve it. He gets the feeling though, after meeting Kerensa properly, that she viewed Eriska as more of a mother than anyone else.
And that's her bullet she just put in Eriska's head.
"Fuck," Evander says, strained. He thinks Emmi says it too, or maybe Tarquin. It's more likely that they've all said it at some point in the last five minutes, internally or not. Icarus' grip around his hand is crushing; he doesn't even remember him grabbing onto it in the first place, and he wasn't holding onto it when they had the misfortune to walk in here. The grip might as well express the silent fuck that the few of them have yet to say aloud.
No one's come running yet from the brief noise, quieter than usual. He feels the need to watch the end of the hall even as Evander steps around him, inching closer to the body.
"You dealt with Eleine?" he asks, carefully leaning over to examine it. Not much to examine, really. "You guys need to go, seriously. Before someone starts looking around for you. You've been gone long enough."
"And what about —"
"We'll deal with her," he continues, giving Soran a pointed look. "We've got practice now, remember?"
He manages a smile, but feels it looks more grim than he intended. Evander doesn't smile back. It would be sort of fucked up if he did, which is Soran's specialty at this moment in time. Fucked up is what he's best at.
"Yeah," Pandora says. "Please, go. But first I think you owe me a hug, at least, because I really fucking need one but mostly because I said so."
Oh, she's talking to him. It's evident because Icarus lets go of him at the fastest pace he's ever witnessed before. There isn't anywhere to go unless he quite literally runs away down the hall, but besides that he feels obligated. It's not something he likes feeling, if he's being honest. She just saved his life though, right? Not for much reason, but she saved him from an infinitely more painful one than the one he's going to get.
She wraps her arms tight around his middle and squeezes while him and his limp arms are standing there trying to figure out what to do.
She's a killer like him, and it was mostly for him.
He understands that.
She lets go before he can do much of anything other than hug her back, if you could even call it that. She breaks away from his arms and wipes at her eyes, at the obvious wet sheen to them
"Go," she says again, an echo of how he sounded long ago.
"Thanks," he says. It's not even close to what she deserves, because she deserves more than this. Better than this.
Hopefully she can get it without him around.
With a light, gentle hand she nudges him out the doorway and then everyone else after him in quick succession. He gets one last good look at her face, which might now be complete with tears streaming down them. He can't tell before she closes the door, and he has no time to ask either. Like he said, he's the worst. She never deserved any of that.
"Are we really just leaving?" Tarquin asks, eyes still wide as can be. Emmi is muttering under her breath, punctuated with profanity every three or four words.
"Obviously," she says, the only word he's understood thus far.
"Should we not like, be subtle about it? Split up or something?"
Fair point. He doesn't want to because of how well that doesn't tend to go, but he sees the reasoning behind it. If they all split and run out the doors something is going to look obvious, whatever it is.
"Okay, you go then," Icarus says, and it's clear he's pointing to Emmi. For some reason she seems the most likely to bolt. "Go and get the car, bring it around front. You two go out after her in a few minutes, just sit in the ballroom and look normal, or something. We'll wait a few minutes longer."
He wants to leave too. Emmi bolts the second someone gives her permission. Ria stares at them both for a heartbeat longer and winds up having to jog to catch up to Tarquin, who's already halfway down the hall after her towards the ballroom. He doesn't want to be here. He's the one most likely to get blamed for all of this shit if someone finds out, if all five of them don't just get blamed outright.
"I don't want to be here," he says aloud, but it appears that Icarus ignores him, or at least tries to. He takes his hand again and pulls him closer to the back door and then out onto the patio. Only two other people are lingering out there, doing suspiciously couple-like things that end quickly because of the staring match that ensues the second the door clatters shut behind them.
The man stares at them. The woman stares at them while trying not to stare at them.
The man eventually pulls the woman inside by the hand, giving him a downright filthy look over his shoulder as they leave.
He wins. He's not happy about it, but he wins.
"This is so fucked," Icarus announces. He's glad someone finally said it.
"Why do you not want to leave then?"
"Oh, I do. I just, fuck, I don't know. I want to hug you or something first."
Soran waits. He waits, but Icarus doesn't actually hug him, or do anything other than stand there. He's not even talking.
That's a first.
"You can do that anytime, you know," he informs him. He's awfully popular for the hugs tonight, but it's not about him. Everyone just sort of... needs one. He can count on one hand how many times in his life he's felt as if he actually needed a hug, and almost all of them have come in the past month. He wouldn't be opposed to another one right now.
"I know." Icarus sighs. "None of this seems fucking real. Like if we go back inside they'll both still be alive, or something."
"That would be extremely terrible for us."
He laughs. "Yeah. Fuck. How the hell did we end up here?"
"Lots of terrible decision making."
"I meant us."
"I stand by what I said."
Icarus laughs again. "You're such an asshole."
"So you've told me."
"I'm sorry," he responds, but finally does no short of Soran already expected him to do and all but dives into his arms, rocking them back and forth.
"You're not, though."
"Not really."
His laugh finally quiets, lost into the side of Soran's neck. He lets them sway a bit more and then stills them. It's no longer awkward, all of this, or any of it. He's an awful person, there's no doubt about it, but maybe he deserves a hug every now and again. It could get him places if he had more time.
"I don't wanna do this," Icarus mumbles.
"Neither do I."
"At least you're not scared, though."
"I'm scared," he admits. "I'm just better at hiding it than you are."
All these years of never knowing what his future even looked like didn't prepare him for this. He always had ideas, visions of things that wouldn't really exist. A hope maybe, somewhere deep down.
And now he's got nothing.
He lets them stay like that for a few minutes. There's no one around to interrupt it; they can be themselves and do what they want in their last few hours here, or at least for a few more minutes. Icarus hasn't looked up since he initially dove into Soran's arms in the first place, but his own chin is perched on top of Icarus' shoulder too. They're both sort of awkwardly hunched over, holding onto each other too right. He's a liar in at least one respect, because he still doesn't understand how they ended up here, terrible decision making or not.
He never will.
"You ready?" he asks quietly. It ought to be that time by now.
"Never."
He's the same. They're the same, and it's good for him.
Soran sighs, and doesn't want to, but releases him all the same. "Let's go."
They've run out of time to avoid it.
Welcome to the 60's. Goodbye Apocalypse now, say hello to new territory.
Just the two epilogues left. Yes, I know. Don't hate me too much.
In the meanwhile, though I'll be putting something else up next week. No, it's not an SYOT, but I'll shoot a notice out once it's up.
Speaking of an SYOT, I should probably write the long, stupidly sappy note now that way the epilogues can be left alone as is. As it stands now I have no plans to write a fifth SYOT - I have an idea for one (thanks Ida), but I'm definitely not getting to it right now, and possibly not ever. That's not to say it won't ever happen - I'll never close that door, but this fourth one here was intended to be an ending for both a series and for myself, and if that's what I leave it off on, I'm completely satisfied with it. Whether or not I write a fifth SYOT, to me, does not matter.
At the end of the day, what matters to me is that I eventually wrote and completed four stories and also a lot more in the process because of them. During those four stories I learned a lot, grew in my writing, made a lot of amazing friends that I hope I'm close with for a very long time, and I'm happy with that. When I started Fields of Battle it was half a joke - I never knew if I would finish it, or what would happen if I did. And then all of this happened. I never could have foreseen it the way it worked out, but the surprise was way better than I thought it could ever be.
Don't get me wrong, either, I'm definitely not leaving. I may still post a few things here and there outside of AO3, and who knows, maybe one day I will write that fifth SYOT. It's up in the air. But if I never do, know that I'm very, extremely thankful for everyone here - everyone that I've spoken to, everyone who has ever left me a review, or anyone who has even just clicked on a story of mine and read it. To the friends I have, thank you for putting up with my endless amounts of bullshit and for, in turn, allowing me to have a lot more than I ever thought I would. It means more than I can genuinely put into words.
Even if we've never really talked, thank you. Feel free to add me on Discord even if we haven't. Shoot me a PM, if you want. I'm not going anywhere, I'm just not writing another one, and who knows what the future holds. You might see me publish one in three months. You might see me publish one in two years, if you're still around. This account may never have something uploaded on it again.
I really, truly don't know, and I'm okay with that. I hope everyone else can be too.
Love you all.
Until next time.