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120_minutenTitel: I'll be waiting here
Team: Dickinson
Challenge: Hurt/Comfort/Angst – Alptraum (und Wirklichkeit) (für's Team)
Fandom: The Hunger Games
Charaktere: Cato, Clove
Warning: Sadness, a lot.
Sprache: Englisch
Kommentar: Ich fangirle die beiden. Taylor Swift hat für die Hintergrundmusik gesorgt und Aku ist Schuld.
Cato wins the hunger games...but someone's missing.
I'll be waiting here
He couldn't quite tell when the feel of triumph faded. The interviews went by and so did the journey through the districts, with the festivities and cheering masses. He was filled with the feeling of victory. And then it was over. The adrenaline no longer rushed through his veins and he was finally calm. All his life he had been pushed, in the academy, during the training, in the arena. Then he had won. He had expected he'd feel satisfied, but when the excitement left him, there was nothing. No rejoice, no satisfaction. He just felt aimless. People kept on gratulating him, but he couldn't feel happy about it, in fact, he felt more agressive as time went by.
And then the dreams started.
He wasn't stupid, the arena left scars on everyone, visible or not. It happened to the best. What confused him was that he didn't dream of his victims. Night after night, he only dreamt of her.
He hadn't forgotten about her. It had taken one look at her parents faces, collected, but sad, to bring back the guilt he had felt on her death. They should've gone home together.
He told himself 'Those are just dreams. They're not reality.' But he grew more desperate as the nights went by and every single nightmare included her. „You promised!“, she screamed at him. Her knife cut his throat and he wanted to say 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry' but there was only blood flowing out of his mouth and she didn't stop screaming. He fell asleep and she was always there, her anger, her fear, her pain. He dreamt of her death scene a hundred times, heard her screaming „Cato, help me! Help me! CATO!“, her voice so full of terror, but he was always too late. She died a thousand different ways in his dreams, and so did he. She killed him with her knifes while she screamed at him and there was blood running over her face out of her crushed skull. He dreamt of a mutant wolf with her eyes that ripped him to pieces. When he woke up, drenched in sweat and choking on his own breath, it took an eternity to find back to reality.
He had hoped the memories of the arena would fade away, but instead they seemed to get sharper in his mind. He remembered everything. The sound of her voice, the expression on her face as he leaned over her, her fear – she had never been scared before and it just didn't feel right, she shouldn't have died like this, scared and alone.
Somehow, he felt she wouldn't be haunting him if he had killed her himself, if he had done it like he'd promised, as quickly and painlessly as possible. But he'd betrayed her, left her for the enemy, abandoned her.
They could've made it, both of them. Two tributes can win if they're both from the same district. He remembered how they talked about it. „Only three to go, we could really make it“, she'd said with a grin while she'd sharpened one of her knives. Had the announcement been true? He'd never find out now.
Other tributes made appearances in his dreams – Glimmer, mocking him, or the fight with Thresh. Reliving this was almost satisfying, as he could let out all his rage and thirst for revenge. Sometimes the firegirl and loverboy appeared together, happily united in their death. Those were the moments when he wondered what he was going on for.
After a while, he almost welcomed the dreams. Clove became like a ghost to him, even when he was awake he couldn't get rid of her now. He'd go out and almost see her beside him, the knife in her hand, always so guarded, he'd talk to someone and imagine a sharp comment from her – after some days, he was sure he was becoming insane. He pondered talking to someone, get medication or something, but he couldn't bring himself to do so, to make her go away. Somehow it felt just fair that she haunted him.
He hadn't known her long before the games, had only watched her train a couple of times before the reaping, yet they'd become a functioning unit, more so than with Marvel or Glimmer. The district 1 tributes were often well trained, but spoiled, coming from a district that crafted luxury items. She was different, more like himself. Strong, hard and unforgiving, like she was made of steel, just like her blades.
As he lay down this evening, he almost earned for the nightmare that was bound to come.
He found himself at the edge of the woods, a place where he had been so often before – the place where he lay waiting for Thresh. But then the girl from 5 came running towards him and it went all downhill from there, he had tried to catch her and went too far, much too far away...He hadn't even caught her, the redhead was too swift for him. And then he heard Clove's screams, anguished cries that turned to nothing but silence when he started running.
He never went after the girl in his dreams, but somehow, he was always too far away. All sorts of things happened – the wolves hunted him, the firegirl waited for him with her bow, the woods started catching fire and he lost orientation in the smoke. He couldn't save Clove, never reached her in time, but he couldn't stop trying.
„Cato! CATO!“ He heard her screaming and immediately started to run. „Clove!“ He broke through the woods, branches were ripping at his clothes and scratching his skin but he didn't even feel it – he reached the clearing and ran over to the curnocopeia, all the while shouting her name.
There was no one else but her. She lay in the grass, her arms outspread, like a broken puppet.
„Clove!“ There was no answer. But when he kneeled down beside her, she opened her eyes. „Cato“, she whispered. There was so much pain in her eyes. Blood was running down the side of her head, but when he tried wo wipe it away to check the wound, she grabbed his hand. „It's too late“, she choked out.
„Clove, I'm so sorry...“ He tightened his grip around her hand.
She smiled weakly. „I know.“ There was no anger in the expression of her face, no hate, just sadness.
„I promised...I promised I wouldn't be far away...“ He almost choked on his own words, the sight of her broken body worse than any death he's witnessed or caused. She looked so small, vulnerable, not anything like herself.
She looked at him like he was the only thing keeping her there. „It's alright.“ Her hand was so weak in his. „I forgive you“, she whispered.
His fingers brushed her hair, her cheek, wanting to hold her, but she was in so much pain.
„Congratulations for the winning.“ She grinned, but it looked forced.
His laughter tasted bitter. „I wanted both of us to win.“
„I always knew you'd survive. I just wanted to be...part of it.“
Her eyes fluttered shut and he feeled panic rising inside himself. „Clove!“ He grabbed her shoulders but was afraid to shake her, to cause her pain. She opened her eyes again. „Still here.“ Her voice is barely audible and he leans down to understand her.
„Don't go“, he pleaded.
Her eyes became tear-filled, she looked scared. „I don't want to.“
„What am I gonna do without you?“
She laughed. It turned into coughing and blood spattered on her lips. „You can do without me.“
His hand laid on the side of her face, the other held on to her cold fingers. „No, I can't. I don't want to. Not without you.“
„But I'm here. I'll wait for you here, as long as it takes.“
This time, when she closed her eyes, she didn't open them again. He could do nothing but watch helplessly as her breathing stopped. He lay down beside her, one arm wrapped around her small body. The image before his eyes frayed out until there was nothing but darkness.
Team: Dickinson
Challenge: Hurt/Comfort/Angst – Alptraum (und Wirklichkeit) (für's Team)
Fandom: The Hunger Games
Charaktere: Cato, Clove
Warning: Sadness, a lot.
Sprache: Englisch
Kommentar: Ich fangirle die beiden. Taylor Swift hat für die Hintergrundmusik gesorgt und Aku ist Schuld.
Cato wins the hunger games...but someone's missing.
I'll be waiting here
He couldn't quite tell when the feel of triumph faded. The interviews went by and so did the journey through the districts, with the festivities and cheering masses. He was filled with the feeling of victory. And then it was over. The adrenaline no longer rushed through his veins and he was finally calm. All his life he had been pushed, in the academy, during the training, in the arena. Then he had won. He had expected he'd feel satisfied, but when the excitement left him, there was nothing. No rejoice, no satisfaction. He just felt aimless. People kept on gratulating him, but he couldn't feel happy about it, in fact, he felt more agressive as time went by.
And then the dreams started.
He wasn't stupid, the arena left scars on everyone, visible or not. It happened to the best. What confused him was that he didn't dream of his victims. Night after night, he only dreamt of her.
He hadn't forgotten about her. It had taken one look at her parents faces, collected, but sad, to bring back the guilt he had felt on her death. They should've gone home together.
He told himself 'Those are just dreams. They're not reality.' But he grew more desperate as the nights went by and every single nightmare included her. „You promised!“, she screamed at him. Her knife cut his throat and he wanted to say 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry' but there was only blood flowing out of his mouth and she didn't stop screaming. He fell asleep and she was always there, her anger, her fear, her pain. He dreamt of her death scene a hundred times, heard her screaming „Cato, help me! Help me! CATO!“, her voice so full of terror, but he was always too late. She died a thousand different ways in his dreams, and so did he. She killed him with her knifes while she screamed at him and there was blood running over her face out of her crushed skull. He dreamt of a mutant wolf with her eyes that ripped him to pieces. When he woke up, drenched in sweat and choking on his own breath, it took an eternity to find back to reality.
He had hoped the memories of the arena would fade away, but instead they seemed to get sharper in his mind. He remembered everything. The sound of her voice, the expression on her face as he leaned over her, her fear – she had never been scared before and it just didn't feel right, she shouldn't have died like this, scared and alone.
Somehow, he felt she wouldn't be haunting him if he had killed her himself, if he had done it like he'd promised, as quickly and painlessly as possible. But he'd betrayed her, left her for the enemy, abandoned her.
They could've made it, both of them. Two tributes can win if they're both from the same district. He remembered how they talked about it. „Only three to go, we could really make it“, she'd said with a grin while she'd sharpened one of her knives. Had the announcement been true? He'd never find out now.
Other tributes made appearances in his dreams – Glimmer, mocking him, or the fight with Thresh. Reliving this was almost satisfying, as he could let out all his rage and thirst for revenge. Sometimes the firegirl and loverboy appeared together, happily united in their death. Those were the moments when he wondered what he was going on for.
After a while, he almost welcomed the dreams. Clove became like a ghost to him, even when he was awake he couldn't get rid of her now. He'd go out and almost see her beside him, the knife in her hand, always so guarded, he'd talk to someone and imagine a sharp comment from her – after some days, he was sure he was becoming insane. He pondered talking to someone, get medication or something, but he couldn't bring himself to do so, to make her go away. Somehow it felt just fair that she haunted him.
He hadn't known her long before the games, had only watched her train a couple of times before the reaping, yet they'd become a functioning unit, more so than with Marvel or Glimmer. The district 1 tributes were often well trained, but spoiled, coming from a district that crafted luxury items. She was different, more like himself. Strong, hard and unforgiving, like she was made of steel, just like her blades.
As he lay down this evening, he almost earned for the nightmare that was bound to come.
He found himself at the edge of the woods, a place where he had been so often before – the place where he lay waiting for Thresh. But then the girl from 5 came running towards him and it went all downhill from there, he had tried to catch her and went too far, much too far away...He hadn't even caught her, the redhead was too swift for him. And then he heard Clove's screams, anguished cries that turned to nothing but silence when he started running.
He never went after the girl in his dreams, but somehow, he was always too far away. All sorts of things happened – the wolves hunted him, the firegirl waited for him with her bow, the woods started catching fire and he lost orientation in the smoke. He couldn't save Clove, never reached her in time, but he couldn't stop trying.
„Cato! CATO!“ He heard her screaming and immediately started to run. „Clove!“ He broke through the woods, branches were ripping at his clothes and scratching his skin but he didn't even feel it – he reached the clearing and ran over to the curnocopeia, all the while shouting her name.
There was no one else but her. She lay in the grass, her arms outspread, like a broken puppet.
„Clove!“ There was no answer. But when he kneeled down beside her, she opened her eyes. „Cato“, she whispered. There was so much pain in her eyes. Blood was running down the side of her head, but when he tried wo wipe it away to check the wound, she grabbed his hand. „It's too late“, she choked out.
„Clove, I'm so sorry...“ He tightened his grip around her hand.
She smiled weakly. „I know.“ There was no anger in the expression of her face, no hate, just sadness.
„I promised...I promised I wouldn't be far away...“ He almost choked on his own words, the sight of her broken body worse than any death he's witnessed or caused. She looked so small, vulnerable, not anything like herself.
She looked at him like he was the only thing keeping her there. „It's alright.“ Her hand was so weak in his. „I forgive you“, she whispered.
His fingers brushed her hair, her cheek, wanting to hold her, but she was in so much pain.
„Congratulations for the winning.“ She grinned, but it looked forced.
His laughter tasted bitter. „I wanted both of us to win.“
„I always knew you'd survive. I just wanted to be...part of it.“
Her eyes fluttered shut and he feeled panic rising inside himself. „Clove!“ He grabbed her shoulders but was afraid to shake her, to cause her pain. She opened her eyes again. „Still here.“ Her voice is barely audible and he leans down to understand her.
„Don't go“, he pleaded.
Her eyes became tear-filled, she looked scared. „I don't want to.“
„What am I gonna do without you?“
She laughed. It turned into coughing and blood spattered on her lips. „You can do without me.“
His hand laid on the side of her face, the other held on to her cold fingers. „No, I can't. I don't want to. Not without you.“
„But I'm here. I'll wait for you here, as long as it takes.“
This time, when she closed her eyes, she didn't open them again. He could do nothing but watch helplessly as her breathing stopped. He lay down beside her, one arm wrapped around her small body. The image before his eyes frayed out until there was nothing but darkness.
no subject
Date: 2012-08-12 08:22 pm (UTC)Muahahahahaaaa!
Und du bist immer noch grausam. Aber es ist schön. *__*
no subject
Date: 2012-08-12 09:39 pm (UTC)Weißt du, was mein Bruder dazu gesagt hat? 'Dass du grausam bist, hab ich schon immer gewusst.' *empört*