[ she should be more upset. she should probably cry, panic, react, but when they call clarke's name it all just shuts down, goes quiet. it had crossed her mind that maybe she'd volunteer, just to get back at her mother, so maybe this is just karma. be careful what you wish for.
she still tries to catch her mom's eyes on the other side of the crowd as she's ushered up to the stage, and a vague sense of panic's starting to settle in when she doesn't see her. it's interrupted by the sudden shout of i volunteer, and after that clarke tries to distract herself by focusing on the drama that ensues, staring at the other girl in stunned silence.
she's seen her before. heard her sing, she thinks. but she's mining, clarke isn't, and as inconsequential as the divide seems now, the people of district 12 still cling to it. they don't share a single word between that stage and the train, and it isn't until haymitch has retreated to his quarters after a not-so-rousing speech that clarke looks across the small table at her. ]
How old is she?
[ the sister. clarke doesn't know either of them, but she got that connection from the names. her voice is soft, amicable, respectfully curious. ]
[ You ever go back somewhere you used to live and kinda have a moment imagining it how it used to be. Like, oh hey, that's where my wall hanging would go! And the carpet was green! And I used to keep my plates on the open shelf instead of locked away in the cupboard or wherever the fuck!
Yeah, this is like that.
Farouk sticks their tongue in David's ear; salty, warm. One arm draped over his shoulders, possessive. ]
Mmmmh, I have just so missed this.
[ A r-rolled trill of happiness, almost like a little bark. Not that they're a dog. They're in the Lenny form instead of the Oliver form, but that's kind of how they see themselves now so whatever, makes sense. What happened to Oliver's body? Maybe it's back wherever the apocalypse is happening — Farouk doesn't particularly care. They've got what they wanted.
Or, almost what they wanted. ]
( Hey. Hey David. )
[ Other hand sliding over his abdomen. ]
( Who's going to build you a shitty circlet now? )
[ Lenny drums the heels of their hands excitedly on the carpet between their splayed legs, all manic energy. ]
You thinking about your girl again? It's a real shame about her, a real shame. Always had that good... cake. Or maybe I'm just hungry, are you hungry? There's a diner on the corner of Main that does theee buffet lunches, you would not believe—
[ But their chatter fades into the background, going out of focus. ]
This isn't where we're meant to be.
[ Sid catches his sleeve with her gloved hand. ]
You need to be outside the memory, David. You need to focus on me.
[ Focus on my voice, comes the echo, one big knob turning the rest of the world down, an island with one palm tree. Lenny still talking about seafood salad, about pasta salad, about vagina. Sid leaning in close enough that the layer of air between them becomes as tangible as cloth. David thinking about his (ex) girlfriend separate from the David who is viewing the memory. ]
[ He can't remember what he's doing here. That isn't really new: different places, times, moments, always abrupt and always disorienting. For a long, drawn out beat he thinks he's here because he's kind of hungry, and he's kind of high, and that seafood salad doesn't actually sound disgusting when you're both of those things.
The memory feels like warm water. Sid's voice feels like breaking for air; the moment snaps, his eyes readjust, his focus shifts. David takes a deep breath and hugs himself a bit more tightly, habit telling him not to lean into her voice even as he leans, fractionally, into the tug of her hand on his sleeve — no touching. ]
I am. [ Too curt. It makes him sound like a baby, overly defensive. He regrets it in the same way he's regretting watching the scene in front of them, Lenny and him and seafood salad and trash talking Philippa. He doesn't want to watch Sid watching this, either, but he still sheepishly seeks out her gaze. ] Sorry.
[ For the memory, mostly, but it works as a blanket statement: sorry for not focusing, for getting immediately off track. ]
[ She stops looking at his past for a moment to give him a smile; one that turns a little shy when he keeps looking at her, lashes flickering low. Her whole body moves away then, wandering across the memory to bend down and inspect the little frog machine — and then they're moving along to the next one, the next memory of Syd watching his memory. This time she's flicking through a children's book, alone in David's childhood bedroom. ]
I really liked astrology as a kid too.
[ Wait, how did they get here? Ptonomy isn't here to make the jump. ]
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katniss.
she still tries to catch her mom's eyes on the other side of the crowd as she's ushered up to the stage, and a vague sense of panic's starting to settle in when she doesn't see her. it's interrupted by the sudden shout of i volunteer, and after that clarke tries to distract herself by focusing on the drama that ensues, staring at the other girl in stunned silence.
she's seen her before. heard her sing, she thinks. but she's mining, clarke isn't, and as inconsequential as the divide seems now, the people of district 12 still cling to it. they don't share a single word between that stage and the train, and it isn't until haymitch has retreated to his quarters after a not-so-rousing speech that clarke looks across the small table at her. ]
How old is she?
[ the sister. clarke doesn't know either of them, but she got that connection from the names. her voice is soft, amicable, respectfully curious. ]
daaaaaaviiiiid
Yeah, this is like that.
Farouk sticks their tongue in David's ear; salty, warm. One arm draped over his shoulders, possessive. ]
Mmmmh, I have just so missed this.
[ A r-rolled trill of happiness, almost like a little bark. Not that they're a dog. They're in the Lenny form instead of the Oliver form, but that's kind of how they see themselves now so whatever, makes sense. What happened to Oliver's body? Maybe it's back wherever the apocalypse is happening — Farouk doesn't particularly care. They've got what they wanted.
Or, almost what they wanted. ]
( Hey. Hey David. )
[ Other hand sliding over his abdomen. ]
( Who's going to build you a shitty circlet now? )
daaaaaaaaviiiiiiiiiiiiiid~~~
[ Lenny drums the heels of their hands excitedly on the carpet between their splayed legs, all manic energy. ]
You thinking about your girl again? It's a real shame about her, a real shame. Always had that good... cake. Or maybe I'm just hungry, are you hungry? There's a diner on the corner of Main that does theee buffet lunches, you would not believe—
[ But their chatter fades into the background, going out of focus. ]
This isn't where we're meant to be.
[ Sid catches his sleeve with her gloved hand. ]
You need to be outside the memory, David. You need to focus on me.
[ Focus on my voice, comes the echo, one big knob turning the rest of the world down, an island with one palm tree. Lenny still talking about seafood salad, about pasta salad, about vagina. Sid leaning in close enough that the layer of air between them becomes as tangible as cloth. David thinking about his (ex) girlfriend separate from the David who is viewing the memory. ]
no subject
The memory feels like warm water. Sid's voice feels like breaking for air; the moment snaps, his eyes readjust, his focus shifts. David takes a deep breath and hugs himself a bit more tightly, habit telling him not to lean into her voice even as he leans, fractionally, into the tug of her hand on his sleeve — no touching. ]
I am. [ Too curt. It makes him sound like a baby, overly defensive. He regrets it in the same way he's regretting watching the scene in front of them, Lenny and him and seafood salad and trash talking Philippa. He doesn't want to watch Sid watching this, either, but he still sheepishly seeks out her gaze. ] Sorry.
[ For the memory, mostly, but it works as a blanket statement: sorry for not focusing, for getting immediately off track. ]
no subject
[ She stops looking at his past for a moment to give him a smile; one that turns a little shy when he keeps looking at her, lashes flickering low. Her whole body moves away then, wandering across the memory to bend down and inspect the little frog machine — and then they're moving along to the next one, the next memory of Syd watching his memory. This time she's flicking through a children's book, alone in David's childhood bedroom. ]
I really liked astrology as a kid too.
[ Wait, how did they get here? Ptonomy isn't here to make the jump. ]