The Stars
Title: Smile
Characters: Kallisto, Kallisto's family
Word Count: 916
Warnings: Nothing really new here
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games and the inspiration for these characters comes from another series entirely.
Notes: Yay, other characters! Kallisto's family is pretty expansive, so maybe I'll expand on them one day. Also, I'm experimenting with present tense since I usually stay away from it, as it's pretty awkward to read most of the time. For drabbles though, it works.
014: Smile
Kallisto only bothers to remember a precious few moments in his life. All else is inconsequential. Meetings, partings, disasters and miracles - all of those things are brief and transient, never to happen again no matter how one might wish otherwise.
There are a handful of those moments in time that Kallisto has for better or for worse, intentionally or not, kept close to him and remembered.
During the day he rarely ever finds himself thinking back to those times, for they are dangerous thoughts. The memories that would make him the least bit happy, the ones that made him recall what he had lost to time, were surely to ruin him.
The only thing he has to focus on now is improving himself. The others - each one older than him by a few years - had all been impressed by what he could do, but even that had been a sad attempt compared to them. He has no time for idle, unproductive thoughts.
Not even of the family he has left behind for this life.
Even if he wants to return to them it is impossible. They would never take him back, not after he directly disobeyed their orders and essentially ran away from home.
But there is something more important to Kallisto than earning his family's praise and respect. It is something that lays beyond the safety of their walls, something Kallisto knows he must search for because no one else will.
And that something lays at the foundation of those precious few memories Kallisto nearly discarded along with the rest of the childhood he was told had no worth or merit. So when that aggressive, persistent blond asks him about his family and whether or not he even remembers them, Kallisto can say nothing even if he wants to.
In running away he has discarded his family, but no one must know the real reason why Kallisto is willing to throw away a life of comfort and relative safety. He knows the risks involved in fraternizing with this group. They are criminals, always dancing on the edge of the law. One day the Capitol might decide that it no longer wants to turn a blind eye to their activities and one day they may no longer exist.
But better than anyone Kallisto knows what he must do. He works towards that goal, not knowing what will happen when he succeeds, where he will go from there, but he has no time to even consider the future.
It is nighttime now and Kallisto is working, the much taller form of the woman called Penka just across the narrow alleyway filled to the sidewalks with trash. It is vaguely uncomfortable to stand amongst the filth, but they continue to stand there patiently. The moon is a thin, hazy crescent in the smog filled sky and the dim, dying lights on the streets flicker.
It is the perfect cover for this type of job.
Kallisto has always been good at staying silent, much better than some of the other members of his family. Among them all he has been one of the most obedient and quiet, but never the perfect son - in their family perfection is placed on a high, high pedestal.
Some say that he inherited it from his father, a broad and rigid man of few words. Others say that he is quiet because he once spent so much time with his eldest brother, a silent foreboding presence who their neighbors have always said was "never quite right in the head". Kallisto knows his brother well, though. He knows that you never want Ilya to speak, because every word he says is biting and venomous.
Kallisto doesn't believe that he has inherited his silence from anyone. It is more of a learned behavior, but not even that. It comes from a childhood spent staring helplessly up at all these people he can never hope to surpass, all these people he calls family, who are so wonderfully strong that he can do nothing but stare in awe.
In that house there is certainly no more room for the quiet types. His mother is overbearing, a worrisome mother hen who frets over every little thing concerning her children. She never stops chattering even when Kleitos told her directly to shut up, but Kleitos has always been the favorite and she simply ignored his comments.
There is Myron who is always fussing with technology, terribly arrogant but brilliant at the same time, and Ilya who is imposing without saying a word. There is his little sister Alyona, the only girl and a simple, but cheerful child and Kleitos' favorite among them.
And then there is Kleitos himself, Kleitos who is the favorite child but the one Kallisto looks up to the most. It is Kleitos who shines so brightly in his vision that he can never forget him, even after a few years have passed since his brother vanished from their lives.
It is his brother's smile that he remembers the best of all his memories. That simple, encouraging smile of his that stunned Kallisto into silence each time he saw it is the sole reason he has put all this effort in up until now.
He is determined to see that smile again, no matter what he has to do. It is midnight now, and at last they can get started on their job.
Slipping out of the shadows, he and Penka turn into the quiet, darkened shop.