for all_at_sea : if I had a heart

[whisted]

Jack Simpson is enjoying this.

That, more than anything, is what has Horatio Hornblower feeling so painfully trapped. There had been a terrible sinking in his gut when his own name had been called during the reaping. There had been a heavy weight that lingered even after his mother's hand was dragged from his shoulder and his father's voice had vanished from his ears. For all that had ripped something from him, the odd inevitable hadn't been so terrible. A piece of him, even now, thinks he could manage to have properly accepted it.

But then, through the haze, had come the harrowing sound of Simpson's name. That had been far too much far too fast. That had been the worst sort of death warrant; the immediate shifting of hope toward dying at the hands of anyone but his District's other tribute.

None of the rest of it had helped, of course. Being dragged far from home was excruciating. Being poked and prodded and needled and explained to, by tense displeased voices, that he somehow didn't even stand and wear his clothes correctly was torturous. Even the odd comfort of being handed into the care of his mentor was undercut by the horrific fact of Simpson standing nearly constantly beside him, practically preening with a nauseating sort of pride.

In defense of the prep team, of course, Horatio apparently doesn't know how to stand properly. It doesn't matter that his fingers grip tight to the chariot, or that all he properly has to do in the Tribute Parade is actually stand still with the faintest bit of a smile. It's just a blessing, Pellew is certainly sighing to himself, that the Capitol seems to find a tribute managing to fall off the back of a chariot faintly endearing.

(Simpson will make his life hell for it later. Thankfully, Horatio doesn't anticipate having that much more life to have to suffer through.)

It will be better, he tells himself, when they can be separated in the Training Center. It will almost be enjoyable, perhaps, to have these few days of being able to make some small amount of space for himself before Jack Simpson thoroughly enjoys killing him.

Comments

[wellesley]

"If you keep letting him turn into a distraction."

This sort of thing had to be cut off early. This sort of thing could get so deep under the skin so quickly.

"If he's going to get you twisted, we'll call this off."

It would be more difficult to keep James alive without someone like Horatio helping, admittedly. There wasn't enough time to get James where he needed to be with foraging and trapping, with properly hiding and keeping himself alive outside of combat.

But surely it would be better than watching James fall apart because a boy had smiled at him.

[all_at_sea]

James did well to keep his demeanour neutral. He didn't let his face fall at the odea of not working with Horatio, he didn't let himself feel offended when she said he was already infatuated.

He wasn't infatuated. He knew that. He liked Horatio, but that was it. He'd made a friend.

But he could take the warning. Lady Barbara was there to help him, to guide him and he would acknowledge that. He would appreciate it.

He let himself nod, letting her skirts swish against his legs as they turned in the dance floor.

"Thank you Lady Barbara. But I think it would be good to have a friend in the arena. We can learn a lot from each other and..."

He paused and licked his lips and then continued.

"And I people will be expecting us to work together after dancing tonight."

[wellesley]

At least he hasn't forgotten everything. At least he's still holding his features still and steady as they drift gently across the dance floor.

"They will. That bit you've done-- very well."

There was already a buzz. There was already chatter here and there at the party which would infect the rest of the Capital before the end of the week. There would be interested inquiries, Barbara was certain, about that bright young star from District 1 and his apparent interest in the scrappy Tribute from District 11.

"But there's friends, hm, and then there's friends in the arena."

James and Horatio might well make it to the end. Only James or Horatio would make it out.

[all_at_sea]

"I rather think I'll need him," James said. "I'll be little use fighting anyone if I can't find food or water. He has those skills."

That at least he could be objective about. James would not be able to feed himself, work out what was poisonous and what was safe, what he could use on the edges of blades to make sure even glancing blows would cripple his opponents. He would need that knowledge, and he didn't have time to acquire it. He'd have to gain as much as he could from Horatio, but until they were there, in the arena, there was no way he would be able to learn everything he needed.

"The little ones will always surprise you, Lady Barbara." He offers. Horatio may well be more valuable than she knows.

[wellesley]

"I've no doubt he'll be an incredible ally in a practical regard."

Her fingers lift briefly from James's shoulders, patting fretfully at his cheek instead. To the world at large, it looks like Barbara is affectionately handling her charge. James, she's certain, will understand the reprimand.

"But I'll not have you mistaking how this will end, James."

Maybe it will end with both of them dead, the older first in an attempt to keep the younger alive. Maybe it will end with only James standing, a piece of him lost in the haze of--more likely than not--taking the life of someone he had come to consider a genuine friend.

"Be careful."

[all_at_sea]

James know what it means. He doesn't have to like it.

"Yes Lady Barbara." He says, trying to see respectful and meek under her experience and wisdom. She knows what she's talking about, he knows that. He knows he should be listening to her, but part of him, that rebellious streak his father had never really managed to beat out of him, is already forming other ideas.

He might get both of them killed, he realises. But the odds are already stacked against them, what harm will it do?

Besides, he's not been twisted by Horatio. It's just so nice to find someone here that he doesn't hate. That he could have been friends with, in any other circumstances. He wants to prove to the Gamemakers that he will not be made inhuman by the situation.

"Even so, ma'am, I'd like your permission to train with him first thing after breakfast. We're going to look at snares."

[wellesley]

Some people like to think she's soft. The careful kiss pressed to the Tribute's temple is meant solely to encourage that before her hand drops to James's shoulder again.

"You're going to put a knife in that boy's hand, too. Before anyone else gets there."

It mattered less if James appeared well-rounded to the other Tributes. Part of this alliance would have to be keeping secret what could be cobbled together to make Horatio even faintly dangerous.

"Make sure he can do more than calmly-- skin a rabbit with it, or-- whatever it is they do."

[all_at_sea]

James has been thinking about that. Horatio will have to know how to handle a weapon and knives are probably the easiest, as he should already know the basics of using a blade.

Even so, James knows Horatio will find it hard. If only they had longer... But he can't ever see Horatio being cold and calculating enough to use a bow. You aren't defending yourself with a bow, you're making the first move at a distance. A knife is better. At a pinch someone scared for their life can fight their way out of a corner.

"I will. I was going to start tomorrow. I wanted to start before the other tributes arrived."

Then at least no one would see how terrible he is at traps or Horatio is with knives. And maybe they can talk together some more without anyone watching them.

[wellesley]

"There's a good boy."

The squeeze of her fingers at his shoulder is brief but genuine. The flash of her smile as she glances out over the rest of the room is much more mechanical, if flawlessly executed.

"You just keep that head on your shoulders."

Literally, to the extent possible.

[all_at_sea]

If they stayed for much longer at the Ball, James didn't see Horatio, or his mentor. The rest of the evening passed as a blur of bright colours and conversation, although James tried very hard not to comment too much when pressed about that charming boy from District One. It wasn't worth unintentionally upsetting Lady Barbara any more than he had already.

He tossed and he turned over night, unable to settle despite how exhausted he felt. When he did sleep, strange dreams about dancing with Simpson filled his mind, a knife slide between his ribs while they span across a dark dancefloor.

He was awake far earlier than even Lady Barbara would have deemed acceptable, and as there seemed little point in going back to bed, he dressed and ate and then headed down to the Training room. He could at least stretch and do a little training before Horatio arrived, and get the bad taste of his dreams out of his mouth.

He could only hope Horatio had gone to bed a little more at ease.

[whisted]

Thankfully, Pellew had been able to keep Horatio effectively stuck to his side until the correct amount of face-time had been achieved. Also thankfully, Pellew had been able to keep Horatio quietly beside him even once returning to the rooms reserved for his Tributes.

It might not be enough to keep talking to the boy until Simpson had fallen asleep, but it couldn't hurt.

Horatio, for his own part, barely sleeps. He's never slept particularly well. Here, in a strange place with the Games looming at the end of the week, it's amazing he gets any sleep at all.

He lingers in his own quarters until a more respectable time all the same. He contemplates over and over the reality that today will require him to confront, properly, what the end of his life is likely going to be.

Despite that, he can't quite hold back a hesitant smile when he slips into the training room and sees only James. Maybe it's silly to imagine that the older boy is a genuine potential friend, but it feels good to hope for something.

[all_at_sea]

Pellew is an angel. A strange sort of angel, but one none the less. His gentler sort of affection probably wouldn't work on Tributes from District 1, but it's probably the sort of attention Horatio needs. Protective and but far from suffocating. Pellew doesn't have Lady Barbara's problem of having to appear a genteel lady- he can give his Tributes a smack on the back of the head as necessary.

Not that James knows anything about what measures Pellew has taken- but he's glad to see Horatio step into the room in one piece. He finds himself straightening up, smiling and gesturing him over, and trying not to think about how they danced and the way Horatio squeezed his hand.

"Good morning," He said, realising this was a little formal, but not really sure how to be less-so. Friendship was a strange thing to navigate in these circumstances.

"I... Lady Barbara has suggested that if we spend a little time on traps and snares, I should also teach you a little about knives. Or other weapons, if you prefer it."

Hopefully before anyone else turned up to watch them.

[whisted]

There's comfort in settling himself into place beside James again. It feels safe to stand beside someone who had gone to the mat with Simpson. It feels safe to listen to someone who had held his hand gently and guided him through an overwhelming cacophony of other human beings.

None of that stops his face from falling slightly, gaze dropping to their feet before he can force himself to nod.

"I don't-- know how much I can learn."

It's the right thing to do. It's the right thing even just to have bits and scraps of knowledge before he's meant to be helpful to the taller boy.

It still sink his gut a little.

[all_at_sea]

James sees Horatio's face fall and he shakes his head, reaching out to gently put his hand on Horatio's shoulder again.

"Don't worry. You have a much harder task- trying to teach me to fend for myself." He says, offering a small smile of encouragement. "Or at least, help you fend for us. As far as I knew, food just arrived on plates. Catching it is a revelation."

Barbara was right in one respect; if Horatio was used to catching and preparing games for the pot, he was used to sharp knives. The hard bit would be teaching him to use them on humans. But if all James could do was give him some pointers that Horatio could use if he needed to, then he would.

"Anyway- our deal is that I do the messy bits, and you keep house. I'll keep trouble as far away from you as I can, I promise."

[whisted]

This will help. If they survive long enough to find each other properly after the bloodbath, it's good to know that a gentle hand on his shoulder is so incredibly calming. It will be different once the killing starts, Horatio knows. It will be different once he's had to face the reality of Simpson's first choices; his own first choices.

But a tiny piece of him feels slightly safer in the knowledge that James's hand on his shoulder feels safe.

"You're not-- serious."

The team would work well enough. The division of labour would make them a strong team. A deep breath makes it easier to start drifting toward the collection of knives set out for them.

"You've never made a meal?"

[all_at_sea]

James lifts his hand from Horatio's shoulder and shrugs. He's never had to worry about food. He's always been training for the games, which in District One means hand-to-hand combat. Sure, some of his peers might have gone into the wild, but James never had. Food wasn't in short supply, there was no need to go find it.

"I can't say I ever have."

He should probably be embarrassed about that. And he is, more about the excess and the comfort he took for granted than his own inexperience. He might not be able to hunt rabbits, but he'd had food and drink and healthcare and training, and his District had asked him for very little in return. No wonder District One were always the favourites.

"I am a blank slate. Impart your knowledge." He says, stopping by the table of supplies- rope and cord and knives, bits of wood. It all (well, apart from the knives) looks a little mystifying.

[whisted]

Maybe that's why James is taller. Maybe that's why his entire body seems to be solid and secure, not ropy and still oddly scrawny as Horatio had always been. Maybe that's why James could keep his chin up while they danced and look, faintly, like he was enjoying himself.

"Have--?"

Holding a knife isn't so unfamiliar. Horatio understands the weight of the one he picks up. He can imagine using it over a snared hare or a stick to be whittled into useful shape. It's the thought of using it against another human being--a young man like the one standing across from him--that puts a tremble in his fingers. That helps distract him from the fact there isn't a delicate way to ask his follow-up question.

"--have you ever been hungry, though?"

[all_at_sea]

All of that is probably true. James hasn't ever really suffered- he's been brought up to either be a Tribute or a Peacekeeper- he's been fed well and trained well and educated to a far better degree than the children in other districts who have to work or find food for their families. He's been able to grow big and strong- and Horation hasn't.

But it's hard to imagine Horatio as anything other than lithe and agile. He could probably move quicker than James. That would probably be a very useful skill, if he was any good at hiding or climbing trees. James would have to find out.

Once he'd swallowed down the uneasiness that rose in him like bile.

"I... not really. No." He murmurs, looking away and shifting his weight slightly, his fingers moving to the edge of the table, picking at it unhappily.

[whisted]

There's a beat of quiet. There's a beat of taking in this piece of reality--always known, but never felt as acutely as in this moment of standing together with the other side's end product.

Then Horatio nods, attention flitting to another knife.

"You can't panic, when it hits. It will feel like... something's wrong. It isn't. It won't get better, but it will tun into something you can live with. You just have to recognize it. Learn how to breathe through it will help."

It's something they'll need to be prepared for. It's something they'll survive.

[all_at_sea]

James, for a moment, doesn't realise that Horatio is talking about hunger. He knows that the other Districts don't get the right supplies, he's not stupid. He knows that the Capitol takes everything and barely shares. He knows that he could have done with a little less, to make sure Horatio had more. The same for everyone else in his District. True, there was never an abundance, but no one ever paniced or suffered because there wasn't enough.

He swallows, and then realises that if hunger is going to be a reality, he might as well experience it now rather than in the arena.

"How often do you think we might find food there?"

He has to ask. He can spend more time training, skip meals. That way he can at least be used to the physical excursion with an empty belly. He will have to, unless he wants to drag them both down in the Games itself. Horatio clearly is used to hardship, but James will have to learn, and learn quickly.

[whisted]

"That depends on the terrain. Almost certainly less meat and smaller portions."

Possibly even than Horatio was used to. Certainly more than he could imagine James would be used to.

"And it will depend if we can... breathe, ever."

Sometimes the Games went so quickly. Sometimes the slaughter came so quickly and violently that there was barely time to find a place to steal a few hours of rest for the night. It would be much harder to find anything to eat if they were in a constant state of running.

"But they want us to-- manage." His brow furrows unhappily as he sets down one knife and picks up another. "We're meant to kill each other, not starve quietly."

[all_at_sea]

James expected that much. He might as well get used to it here, so it doesn't send his body into shock then.

"They won't want everything to happen all at once." It wouldn't be entertaining if it was all over too quickly. The Gamemakers could ensure that happened, somehow. He'd seen it, when it looked like everyone was going to die too quickly, strange things had happened in the arena and the Tributes had been forced to scatter. After all, if they had to pick each other off in unpleasant terrain, then it made for better viewing.

"We'll be alright." He says, putting all the confidence into his words. Even if there's no much food, we can find water, there's always water, and that'll do." He stretched his hand out, gently touching Horatio's.

Lady Barbara would probably go mad if she saw them.

[whisted]

Barbara would absolutely be beyond displeased with the soft intimacy of the gesture. Horatio, for his own part, is only briefly puzzled.

After a heartbeat, he melts closer.

He only leans briefly. He only settles for a few heartbeats with his shoulder against the taller boy's. It's infinitely settling.

Barbara would absolutely be beyond displeased with that as well.

"We... will." He can stand up again on his own after that, head slightly ducked in concentration. "Tell me about knives."

[all_at_sea]

It could be a perfectly innocent, friendly gesture. Horatio is fidgetting with knives- not exactly a safe thing to do- but the gentle touch of James' hand against his stops the nervous movement. That's how James would explain it anyway. He can't explain the way Horatio moves against him, or how right it feels, or why it makes heat rise in his cheeks.

He hopes Horatio doesn't notice.

He clears his throat, trying to appear knowledgeable, in a vague attempt to impress the younger Tribute.

"Most of these are hunting knives. Serrated and normal blades. I guess you know what they do- but they're not great in a fight because they're not designed with the right sort of tang. And they tend to break where they fold back into the tang" He pauses, looking over the table, and picks up something that looks a little more useful. It's dagger really, but the blade is wider and slightly curved than most on the table. "This is better for what we want, it gives you more options. Slashing and someone can be as good as stabbing them, if you do it in the right place."

James stops then, and glances at Horatio. Horatio who has probably never been in a physical fight with anyone, training exercise or otherwise. "I... Do you know the bits to aim for? On a person?"

[whisted]

The knife he'd been fidgeting with is set down. His attention is focused in on the blade James is holding.

That makes it easier not to wince at the question.

There had been scuffles, back home in the District. There had been boyish playing early on, before 'play' had become a thing of the past. There had been spats here and there. It's just that there had also been years of careful breaking at his spirit.

How does a person learn to fight after years of being told not to fight back?

"Where's... Where's best?"