[P] The Fire Finds a Home in Me

[Katniss]

Smoke still lingers in the city. Despite the fires having been put out hours before, the smoke is thick and settles between the buildings. It burns her lungs. She is covered in ash and soot, a testament to her attempt at trying to save what she could from the burning food stores. Finnick lays exhausted on her back, his wings clinging to her charred fur. She can hear the wheeze in his voice and she knows that it will take healing to get his lungs ready for flight again. She hates that she has put Finnick in danger, but deep down, she knows the eagle would not have done anything differently. He was just as much of a fighter as she was. He knew his place and he knew that Denocte needed him. He was a hero in her eyes.

The exhausted pair meander through the city, their pace slow and without any sort of direction. Her body was screaming for her to return to the little home she shared with Metaphor, to take comfort in his company. And yet, her heart could not bear to take her away from the citizens which she was growing to love with all her being. She could not leave her fellow Night Court citizens in their time of need. How could she cuddle with her lover when others had lost so much? It didn’t seem right.

Snow was still falling and her eyes looked up at it fell. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out if it was snow that was falling, or ash. It was probably a mixture of both. The ash collected on her back, the snow melted away without thought. Her heart ached for Denocte. The food that was supposed to last them through the winter was mostly destroyed. Some of it was saved, but it would not be enough to feed them. Denocte would be at a disadvantage. Whoever was behind this attack knew that would be the case. The warrior in her told her that this was only the beginning, that a secondary attack might happen now that they were tired and weak.

Up ahead, she sees Isra surveying the damage as she had done. Despite the disaster, she could not help but smile. Her queen was home. She steps forward, careful not to jostle the weakened eagle who lay lifeless on her back. “Welcome home, Isra…” Her voice was soft in volume, but rough in tone. The effects of the smoke were ever present. “…it is a shame you had to come home to this.” Her voice is solemn. She hates knowing that her queen returned amongst devastation. Only home a very short time and now had to be ready for what would happen next - organizing the clean up and preparing for a secondary attack. That was not the sort of welcoming party one wanted.

@Isra

[Isra]

Isra and the spring garden

The devastation spreads around her like a graveyard. Wood rises from the ground like old, charred bones. Ash and snow is falling down around her like the tears of the moon. It coats her spine in white and it gathers along the quiver of arrows hanging at her shoulder. Citizens are already walking among the wreckage, salvaging what food they can for the winter ahead.

Isra should not smile to see the sorrow in their eyes, but she does. Because this-- this she can fix.

Her steps are almost silent through the ash and snow. Isra walks into the center where the fire still smokes and smolders feebly, and she thinks that this is the reason she came home when she did. This is the reason the sea didn't let her die. It's the reason her magic feels like a monster in the weak cage of her bones. The reason she loves a dragon, who is cleaning ash of his wings in the distant lake. She has to believe it's all for some reason, otherwise she would give herself to war and vengeance until there was nothing left of the queen with stories on her tongue and scales kissing her belly.

Katniss joins her right as the magic in her is humming a wild song and begging to be let out. Isra smiles at her Champion although the fire sparking in her ocean eyes is anything but kind or gentle. “Katniss.” Her horn signs in the wind as she turns towards the black mare to see her eagle lying far too still on her back. She makes another tick in all the injustices for which Raum must pay.

There are too many black marks in her anger for her to count them all now.

The smile on her lips turns a little wild, a little terrible, a little like a weapon instead of a feeling. “I'm glad I came home to this, if it was going to happen no matter whether I was here or not.” Her magic lunges out her them and the graveyard of provisions shudders with the force of it.

Every charred apple turns to bright red and healthy. Each torn sack glimmers with golden threads like caught moonlight bloated with all the food it's protection. The broken boards turn to marble, and silver, and maps of gemstones. Around her wealth and food blooms like a garden in early winter. An sleeping oak tree near them turns to an apple tree, a bit of grass struggling to live under the snow turns to stalks of wheat. The snow seems like diamond-dust on which a bed of apples, and fruits, and stalks of wheat lay.

Isra closes her eyes when her lungs start to tremble a little and her heart starts to flutter like a caught hummingbird. The beast of her magic goes back to sleep, as content as a bloated dragon.

And when she opens her eyes again to look at Katniss there is war shining in them, brighter than all the wealth she's created. “I learned a few things while I was gone.” Isra doesn't think she needs to say that she learned how to be a weapon. Or that Raum himself created the blade that will hunt him until the end of time.

She looks at Katniss, with her tired eagle and her scars, and Isra knows that her Champion will understand.




“Love is the only weapon I have, I will defend with love, I will attack with love.”

@Katniss

[Katniss]

She understands what Isra is saying, that this would have happened whether or not she had been home. And yet, Katniss cannot help but wish that she had not returned to devastation. It had been her job to protect Denocte and she had failed her people so miserably. She felt unworthy to be standing here in Isra’s presence, ashamed that she had not been able to prevent the attack or to bring justice to those that started them. Isra had come home to a broken kingdom, a kingdom where the citizens here were scared and worried about what the future would hold. She had hoped Isra’s homecoming would be filled with parades and chear and happiness. But there was no parade, no shouts of welcoming from her people, no happiness. It was solemn and the air filled with the tears of those who had lost so much.

Katniss looks to the bird who lays still upon her back, his lungs struggling to breathe. Finnick had been so brave. The eagle had done so much for Katniss in the short time they had been together. She can only hope that as time wore on, their bond would grow even stronger, that it would grow into something unbreakable.

Her eyes turn back to the queen, however, she is unable to meet her gaze. The confidence she normally exudes is not there, replaced by a feeling of unworthiness. “Your homecoming should have been a grand welcoming…instead you are greeted with the tears and cries of those that lost everything.” Lives had been lost, food at been lost, but perhaps what was most unsettling was the loss of hope. When she looked at those who were picking through the wreckage, she saw nothing but fear of the unknown. She did not see hope or confidence. Denocte had been demoted into a hopeless nation. Raum would pay for this. Who else would have done such a thing?

But it was in this quiet moment that something is happening. At first, she does not see the way Isra turns the charred apples into healthy rounds of fruit. She doesn’t see the repair of the burlap sacks. But when the oak tree turns into an apple tree, bearing fruit, this is what catches Katniss’ attention. She turns her attention away from Isra as she surveys the changes that Isra is making. Her eyes are wide, her mouth gaping just a moment. But then, her jaw sets and she is angry for only a moment. So many had risked their lives to save what had been stored away and Isra has the ability to create it anew? So many lives unnecessarily risked in the fires. And yet, she says nothing. She does not tell Isra that she is jealous of her powers or that she is angry that she chooses now to show them off. Instead, she tries to exude confidence and happiness for what Isra has delivered.

Isra speaks, saying that she has learned a few things while she was gone. It was not these words that had Katniss’ attention, but the look of war and determination that does. She knows this look and she feels it well. No matter how angry or jealous she might be, she knows that someone will have to pay for the price of this devastation. “Someone will pay for this.” She looks out over the smoke and char, her intention clear. Someone would pay for this and it would be a heavy price to pay.

@Isra

[Isra]

Isra and rusted gold-dust

The war in her is still rising. Her heart is a drum. Her horn is a sword forged and shining that hasn't drank yet of death. The chain about her leg is an anchor waiting to become a noose and each brittle bit of kelp caught in it is a wish waiting. Isra is all the signs of war in and every drop of her violence is waiting to be unleashed.

How did she ever think her magic was made for dreams instead of salvation and vengeance? How did she ever think she was made for stories instead of legends? How did she think she wasn't bred for war?

It's in her eyes when she looks over her charred and healing city. The chains, the blood and the hundred, tipped lashes her skin knew one, they are bits of stardust in her gaze. “We've rebuilt before.” Nothing in her voice suggests that she is happy for it, but oh, she understands already the fire of the phoenix. But evil ghosts are easier to hunt than gods, and she's rising, rising, rising each moment she looks at the sorrows of her people.

And she knows, oh she knows, when he looks back at Katniss, that she has in her the ability to destroy more than just a ghost made from hate instead of grave-dirt.

“Raum will die for this.” Isra whispers, but the promise falls from her lips like a torch, or maybe like a guillotine. However it falls it is heavy and ash coated. It tastes like salt and blood on her teeth, salt and blood and brine.

Off in the distance Fable rises from the lake and heads for the mountains. He knows that if his unicorn is going to be war, he is happy to be an instrument of it. To him there is Isra and there is the sea-- he needs no gods and no ghosts.

Isra brushes her nose across Katniss shoulder and it's another promise that has no words but ash. “How should we protect them? I can give them food, but there is a whole city and I cannot protect them all alone.” Because she knows, that even with a dragon and a beast of magic (that's starting to feel like a god in her breast) she cannot save the world alone. There is still mortality singing through her blood.




“How can you rise, if you have not burned”

@Katniss

[Katniss]

The idea of rebuilding is not lost on her. The moment she saw the fires, she knew they would rebuild. They would put out the fires, seek vengeance for the one who orchestrated this, and rebuild what was destroyed. She had seen the way kingdoms crumbled and she had always been there to pick up the pieces and to aid the rulers in their plight for justice.

This was not a new thing for Katniss, however, she wished she didn’t have to experience it here. She had thought she had found the perfect home in Novus, but she had been mistaken. First the gods destroyed it, then individuals. Why couldn’t others just respect what was given to them and cultivate it. Let the earth each them. And yet, no one where was willing to listen, it seemed. They were too focused on gaining power and prestige that no one cared about what was happening everywhere else. It was a sad fate, a lonely fate. It pained Katniss to know that so many people had so little faith in the few trying to do right in this world. No good deed goes unpunished, it seemed.

Isra’s words bring a heavy sigh to her lips. She cannot help but look out at the smoking rubble, the crumbled buildings and ruined rations. She had to keep positive, at least no lives were lost. “Aye…and we will again.” She knows she has to help Night Court, to be the one to carry the boulders. So few had the strength she had, the brute force required to physically rebuild. “…but we shouldn’t have to. This like this shouldn’t happen.” Perhaps if she had kept better boarders, patrolled better, got to know all those traveling through Nigh Court. If she had just done her job maybe this wouldn’t have happened. She shouldn’t blame herself, but she does. She blames herself for letting her guard down, for not being the soldier she was bred to be. Even though Raum might have orchestrated this attack, she felt responsible.

The promise of justice that falls from Isra’s lips bring upon a nod. She knows that he will die for this and she knows that Isra will lead the hunt for him. She cannot help but think, no know, that she will be close behind. “And I will be alongside you when we does. Together we will avenge him.” She could not let her queen do this task alone. She couldn’t watch Isra march off to war and be comfortable with knowing that she might not come back. If anyone was going to come home in a body bag, it would be her over her queen.

She feels the tender brush against her shoulder and she leans into Isra, a silent thanks for the comfort. She knows what her task is ahead of her, no matter how much she might not like it. “We gather the soldiers, train, wait for the right time to strike.” She looks to her queen and her eyes grow solemn. “Until then we should advise people to move into the city, where they can be closely protected. It’s far easier to protect them in the citadel than it is to protect them scattered across the land.” As much as she hated that she might have to leave the small home she shared with Finnick and Metaphor, she would do anything to protect the two men in her life that meant more to her than life itself. She would do anything for them. As if he knew the unspoken words she thought, Finnick brushed his wing alongside her ribs, giving her comfort to know that he would do his part to protect Night Court as well.

@Isra

[Isra]

Isra and the marble fortress

Beneath her skin her bones are starting to feel like daggers. Her blood is starting to feel like an itch running through her in bolts of electricity. Every part of her feels strange, just like the sea always felt strange and peaceful when she wandered into the black depths with a story so long ago. She feels, she feels, oh she feels too many thing to sort out. Each nameless weighted thing feeds the magic, and the fury, and the way her dragon is flying further and further out towards the desert.

Isra knows she should call him back. She should lay beneath a mighty wing and tell him a story of love and bravery. But she does neither, all she does it look out towards the mountains. Too well Isra knows what is beyond those monoliths. There is suffering, starvation, fear. And there is Eik, the very song her heart is still beating to (isn't love a war?).

When she turns away to press their hips together she knows, oh she knows, that she's going back. Isra swallows down the words, she begs her heart to sing another tune. Wouldn't it be so much easier to love only her city? Instead she must love both and her body feels pulled apart by love, and war, and the need  to root out every drop of black evil in this world.

She feels primordial, like she is all the bits of the universe fighting against a mortal cage.

“I will make us a fortress then.” Each step she takes into the ash and smoldering arches of wood brings a bit of her furious heart into the world. Wood turns to marble, cloth to reams of chain-mail and the soft ground turns to moonstone. Walls of stone and steal replace the charred rubble. Each change makes her eyes shine a little like stars and they catch each lingering, dying flame and make them into something dangerous.

Isra does not only feel primordial then. She is, oh she is.

“The time has come for you to be a champion Katniss.” It's not a request, but rather the sharp stab of faith falling like a gavel in the new space between them. It's not gentle, but they are not gentle females anymore.

Not anymore. Never again.




“This day is a dark crater. There is no room for songs.”  

@Katniss

[Katniss]

Eyes watch as  Isra begins to turn their home into something straight out of a fairytale book. She can see the ash and still burning wood into columns of marble and stone. Her eyes watch with awe as the area around her turns into something far grander than it was before. Raum could not steal away their happiness. He could not take away the thing that all Night Court citizens had. Their devotion to their court and to their queen was something that could never be taken from them and Katniss knows this all too well. She has the same feeling of hope and faith. Despite all that has happened, there is something that will never snuff the light of hope that she feels deep within her chest. That feeling is here to stay and she will now unleash that feeling and allow it to consume everything around her.

When Isra demands her to be their champion, Katniss knows she already is. She is already a beacon of hope for a future far better than this one. She nods her head with only the slightest of nods. Katniss understands her duty and she knows that in the immediate moments following this great tragedy, she has to step up for her people.

She says nothing to Isra as she turns her back on her queen. And as she begins to step away, she pauses. Neck arches around to lay her eyes on Isra, Finnick still laying quietly on her back. The moment their gaze meets, there’s nothing that needs to be said. She knows Isra will understand this moment, even if there are no words said. What needed to be said? They were both great warriors and they both knew what needed to be done. Isra needed to be their queen and she needed to be their protector. She wouldn’t waste a moment longer talking about the what ifs. She would use this precious time to do as she said she would do - to prepare the army and usher people into the city.

Back turns towards Isra and she begins to walk away, the smoke and ash consuming her as she slips into the thick of it. No more words are spoken but her actions speak far louder than any words that she could ever form from her own lips. Her heart swells to know that Isra is home, but at the same beat, it hurts for all that has been lost. There is a fire burning deep within her soul and it was time to set itself ablaze.

@Isra - A closer since we’ve moved onto happier things.

[Isra]

Isra and the black lark

A crow is flying overhead with wings that look as if they are made of oil instead of feather. It's diving through the soot and smoke, beady eyed and swift as a desert wind. When it lands it cocks its head like  a wolf at Isra and opens up that sharp beak to cry.

Isra does not smile when she cocks her head and looks at it like a doe in a thicket of smoke. She does not look away to watch Katniss dissolve into the ashen clouds rising like a cage around her. That feeling in her heart, a first beating against a shield, is enough to know that they don't need words between them anymore. Isra thinks briefly of the roar Fable makes, how her heart aches with it even as her ears sting.

It's still that roar she's thinking of as she turns back to the fortress rising around her like mighty oaks. All the char and ash is still turning to marble and steel. Her power is rising in her like a tide, and for a moment it's easy to forget that she is a unicorn of flesh and bone instead of primordial skin and dangerous blood heavy with magic. She lets it sweep her away, away to the place where she doesn't have to be a queen in a burning city.

She lets it sweep her away to the place where she is only a weapon sharp and thirsty.

That crow shakes his feathers and prepares himself to launch back into the sky. Isra smiles and cocks her head at him like a lion in the tall-grass. All the ash piling along her spine turns to gold-dust and pearl dust. Isra shines when the dying embers reflect against her coat.

And when she blinks the crows turns into a lark and the sound it sings when opens its beak to scream almost sounds like a hallelujah.




“Fly away,” sang little lark to the crow,
“There is no home for you”  

@Katniss