Flashes of Gold
Chapter Eight | Guessing to the Second Power
District 7 POV: Evon
It would have been undeniably peaceful, had the situation been any different. But even the swift stroke of his axe doesn't lessen the furious worries from Evon's mind. He can imagine countless endings, and none of them are good. There are so many ways for Wren to die...too many to even think that she stands a chance at all...
But she's made it this far already, hasn't she? More than half of the original tributes are now dead. If she can only hold out for another few days, then she could be home by the end of the week. Evon pauses, scowls, and then berates himself for even thinking such things. Even if she does make it home as the Victor, she'll be different. Not the Wren he's known for all these years, but rather one hardened by the experiences of the Arena.
He's seen it happen to many other Victors. Too many fall into despair. Drink themselves to death, or to another reality or madness. Kill themselves by other methods. Death, that is all a Victor can know. Death in the Arena, and death out of it.
But he would help her. He wouldn't give up on her. He's learned his lesson – learned it from the first moment he saw that scorching betrayal in her eyes – and he knew right then and there that he'd never bring it out of her again. No. He glanced down at the wood he was chopping, that brooding expression spilling over. Never again.
His arms draw back, muscles bulging as he lifts his axe above his head. A quick, heavy hit and then the splintering sound of wood cracking follows his actions. In the forest, surrounded by the trees and immersed in the familiar actions of his work, Evon can think easier. There is no Calan to distract him, to make his guilt play at the forefront of his mind. There is no Wren, either. He can simply be himself; can loose himself until the sun marks the end of the working day.
But the sun is still bright in the sky, only noon, and he has a long way to go. Though he is thankful for the task, he can't help but wonder what's going on in the Fey house. Is Wren on screen right now? Is she...no. He can't think of her death.
The troubled source of his thoughts makes his movements slow, and when he brings his axe down again, the wood splinters only halfway. He frowns, willing himself not to curse, and pries the two pieces apart with his fingers.
Vaguely, he can hear the other workers nearby, hidden by the trunks of the trees. Chopping wood is mundane work, and he can hear the chatters of various men as they attempt to relieve the tiresome strain. He is glad he is not part of them, for he knows what they are talking about and he doesn't want to join in.
Wren has quickly gone from being the girl who no one really cared for to the talk of the town. In a few short days, her popularity has escalated to a point that shocks even Evon. He wonders what she'd say, if she knew how much the District is trying to do for her. Raising money for the Arena is hard work, because anything sent in is likely equal to a year's salary to any workman in the lumber business. But people are doing it, because they had never noticed how enigmatic Wren could be, how lovingly stubborn and completely beautiful – he clears his throat and lifts his axe up again. This time, the wood split with much more precision.
Some of the men are starting to pack up for lunch. Mostly, they go home to eat with their families, because each worker has a full hour's break. Evon would usually do the same, except that today, his mind is working overtime and isn't letting his body stop. Besides, he isn't hungry and since his mother had long since been spending ever waking hour at the Fey house, he doesn't want to return to Mrs. Fey's ashen face...or Calan, for that matter.
But alas, nothing ever works out as desired. Evon does pause in his work, leaning against a nearby tree as he surveys the rest of the work he has to do for the day. He doesn't rest for long, though, because the quickened sound of footsteps tug him out of his reverie...and into the seemingly pleasant expression of Calan.
She's walking up to him, hand fastened around a red and white checkered clothe that looks startlingly familiar. Immediately, Evon is thrust back in time, replaying Monday afternoons spent with Wren up in their tree, and the guilt once again washes over him.
"I knew you wouldn't return," she says, eyes twinkling up at him. Though they seem as clear as they had before the Hunger Games had begun, Evon can see the anger welled up within them. It is as blatant as a tornado through a forest and forlorn as ever, and the guilt increases tenfold. "So I decided to bring you some lunch," she finishes, placing the clothe down on the chopping block he had just been using.
For a long moment, they both stare at each other, unmoving. And then, everything breaks apart as Evon shifts forward. He isn't hungry, but he forces himself to open the lunch anyway.
He is aware of her calculating gaze on him while he eats; can feel the dimmed fury of her emotions. And he knows how fine a line they tread these days, and how neither of them really cares. Why, he wonders softly, do they even play the game then? Even he cannot answer his own question.
"You're not hungry?" he asks, but doesn't pause and wouldn't even if she was. Still, she shakes her head and gracefully falls beside him, legs curling beneath her as she presses herself against his side, as though seeking a comfort that wasn't there.
He stiffens, but doesn't shift away, because it's just a game, after all. It was always just a game, he realizes. Because it was always, always Wren, even if he didn't see it before.
Still, the game is played. Calan tilts her head slightly, so that her face is very close to his. He knows that this is the time that he should lean down to kiss her, but he can't think of a reason why. He does anyway, but it is a cold action, tempered behind chilling eyes. They both draw away faster than a real couple would have, but neither question it because neither cares. Calan watches him finish the lunch before beginning to wrap away the remains and tuck them back into the clothe.
She is about to get up. She moves to, shifts her weight onto her legs, but suddenly Evon reaches out to hold her arm, stopping her. Her expression is emotionless as she turns to him, but there is an obvious question lingering behind her frigid blue eyes. A question that he wonders aloud not a moment later.
He is aware that it is an overly bold thing to ask, but he can't stop it from flying from his lips. When he had stopped her, he hadn't known what he would say, only that he wanted to say something. But one look into those eyes – those freezing eyes – and he couldn't control his words.
Like poison, they seized her, making her mouth drop at the audacity. And then, after a mere moment of shock, the anger comes. Her eyes narrow, spitting up flames, and she curls her lips distastefully. Her hands itch to slap him, but instead, she settles for a sneering, "I'm aware." And then she is gone, sprinting through the trees like a nymph, evading the tree trunks as though she isn't even there at all.
His eyes darkens as he watches her leave, but he cannot feel bad for his question. And her answer – the indignance in her surprise – has told him all he needs to know.
When she dies, you'll be alone. Do you know that?
Because he can't even hope that Wren will come back to him. She is far too gone already.
District 7 POV: Calan
Blonde tresses fly everywhere, untamed and uncaring as snarls curl together. Her pale fingers brush against a tree, here and there, so as to keep her balance. But after running for what feels like ages, she misses her mark and plunges to the forest floor.
She doesn't know she's crying until she touches her cheeks and feels heavy tears. As they cling to her fingertips, Calan stares at them. As though they are a foreign thing that she's never seen. But she has seen them before, all too much, and so she flings her fingers to her dress, hurriedly drying them in shame.
Why should she cry? Surely it wasn't because she missed Wren! No, no. it had to be about what Evon said, and how she had found truth in his words, blatant and hungry.
She feels alone now, so it shouldn't be any different to how it will – may – feel when Wren doesn't return. Evon hasn't been there for her anyway. He so obviously misses her sister and has realized Calan's true personality. Surely, she has already lost him.
But what of her mother? Her hatred for Wren only surfaced that one time, amid all the neighbors. And ever since, her mother had ceased looking at her as though she were the most special daughter. Instead, she has turned such affection to the TV screen, and to the dying girl that inhabits it.
The tears build, spilling down her face like a flood. She can hear her heartbeat strumming quickly in her ears, pounding against her chest as though trying to find a way out. She wants to tear it out, wants to submit to the cold that surrounds her. Because Evon's words hit her harder than she thought they could. They made her realize just how alone she is, and has always been.
Her head tilts up, suddenly recognizing the area of the forest she is sitting in. It is a place she has come to, in secret, most every day. An area that she'd thought she was banned from as a child, because this tree has always belonged to her father and Wren, and never had any place for her.
Her hands skid over the rough bark. She can feel her anger resurface, but this time, it is entwined with confusion, aggravation, hopelessness. Her nails rack over it and she is suddenly overcome by her emotions as they are released around her. She is a whirlwind of unsettled empathy. It makes her quake and shudder and takes her farther down, down, down into the blackness that has settled over her heart.
And she absolutely cannot think. She is restless for movement, but she cannot run. Her body is as shaky as her heart, which dangles at the edge of a cliff, just like her sister...exactly like her sister...
Her emotions scatter and then rebound, forming a hardened determination that builds inside her. It overtakes her mind, steels the pounding of her agitated heart, and leaves her utterly gasping for breath. Her thoughts are still miles away, but she doesn't need them. It is not thought that forces her movements, but rather her willpower, which lashes around her faster and tighter than any emotion.
What enters her head next is a silly idea, but she can't pause as she pushes herself up. Her fingers cling to a hold on the tree, stops for a mere moment, and then begins pulling herself into it.
It has always been sacred territory to Wren. But Calan isn't climbing to deter the sacredness. She is climbing because she doesn't know what else to do. Because she wants to feel the warmth of her father embrace, even though it is long gone. Because she needs to prove herself, that she can be just as amazing as Wren – just as stubborn, just as quick. And, she thinks softly as she catches herself, because I want to be worthy of what Wren feels. Of how Evon feels. Of that hopeless romance that builds up between so many people, and yet always seems to avoid myself.
But when all is said and done, and she stands tall atop the branch that has housed so many lunches and meetings, Calan doesn't feel anything. There is nothing, now, that backs up the beating of her heart. There is nothing that steels her mind.
She slowly glances back to earth, far away from her, and swallows hard. She wonders how she will ever get down. She wonders if she is even meant to get down.
Another short chapter..eh, sorry. The next one will be a lot longer and will mainly feature Wren. But I thought I needed to dedicate one whole chapter to District 7. Hopefully Calan's character is a little more understood..that was what I was going for xD She's on the path to redemption *sigh*
And don't worry about me not finishing the story! I have the whole thing outlined and I even have an ending figured out, so all I have to do is write it all up. It may take a while, but I'm so into writing this that I have a feeling it'll be completed~ I'm even considering a sequal with Katniss, Peeta, and District 13...but I won't scare you all away yet haha
Anyway, thank you so much for the amazing review, IDreamtOfHim! And feel free to drop more reviews on your way out, lovely readers :3 And meh..I'm too lazy to write Chapter points. I think you all know the reason for this chapter was to develop my other chars anyway