Deep in the meadow, under the willow...

[etcircenses]

Who| All those on the liberation mission and all those being made to fight against them.
What| The liberation of District 12.
Where| District 12.
When| This week.
Warnings/Notes| War, violence, death. Please warn for more in headers.

It doesn't take long to get to District 12, the closest district to the rebel district. It's one of the smallest districts, and you only know you reach it when rolling hills grow and grow until they become large, fertile green mountains. The environment looks green and lush, beautiful, really--That is, until you reach the part of the District where people actually live. The weather is chillier than the Capitol, though the wind bares the worst of it. Anyone planning on spending any time outside should definitely get a coat.

The town is smaller than any of the others, and more worn down. Everything seems to have a thin layer of cole settled over it, no matter how much cleaning is done. The center of the town isn't too shabby, and there are a few things that stand new and shining--A metal whipping post and stocks. The latter occasionally has an unfortunate person in it, though most people have learned to buckle down and accept the new rules.

In the merchant part of town, there's some signs of wildlife, knobby trees and green enough yards. The merchants used to ply their trades here, though for now, everything's locked down. As you get farther, it gets shabbier, poorer. Into the Seam, where the poorest of the poor live. Here, the houses are barely more than shacks. Trees grow wild, and what animal life exists is quick to run from any humans, no doubt having survived at least one attempt by the people of the Seam to capture them for the supper pot.

One thing in common with all the sections of the District is a feeling of hopelessness. The mood is dour, as heavy and permanent as the cole dust that seeps into everything. The only sign of anything even resembling any rebellion is a few chalk scratchings on the sides of abandoned buildings, a few zodiac symbols--Anyone who knows the trolls can recognize the symbols of Karkat, Terezi, Psiioniic, and even the Initiate. That, and the grand pictures of Sam Wilson and Joan Watson, and the bold words stating NOT ALONE and WE ALL DESERVE BETTER.

The war continues, and in the back of everyone's mind is a familiar phrase; may the odds be ever in your favor.

Comments

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland thinks over this. Time is limited, aye, but this is important. It's that vow of Signless' - not just a vow, but the heart of him. His in, perhaps, the same way Roland had once vowed that he killed with his heart, and believed it. In the same way that, some years later, Roland had acted on that vow for the first time, and for the first time understood it.

It isn't Signless' vow that's the problem, here. Never being the cause of death, never being the cause of pain - at least, where possible - is part of the man, and Roland understands the reasons for that about as well as someone like him can, and respects them. Roland thinks a second longer.

"You walk your path," he says, rubbing his thumbs over the Signless' temples and looking closely into his face. "You walk it straight and true, and if you should be pushed into a choice to step away from it for a time, you will always find your way back. Do you believe that?"

[69problems]

He considers saying that he has to believe it, that he has no other choice, but that's not really true. So many times since he first arrived in the Capitol he's felt as though he's strayed, and every time he's found his way back to a place where he can be at peace with who he is. It's been hard, and sometimes it's been slapdash, but he's always managed.

"I do. It may take me time, but I will."

He leans forward and lets his lips brush Roland's in a quick, chaste kiss. There's no passion to it, just a need to be close, to take reassurance in that closeness. He can do it on his own if he has to, but it's far easier to find that path again with someone to walk with.

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland sees the Signless stretching up toward him and bends down to meet him halfway, keeping his hands where they've slid down over the sides of Signless' face and not bothering to straighten up once the kiss is done. There's much more for him down here.

"I've never seen a lover into battle with me before. Not in this way, at any rate." His hands slide further down to cover Signless' neck and link themselves together behind it. "Cort told us all to leave those things behind before we fought. No distractions."

[69problems]

"Would it be easier if we split, once we're out?"

The idea seems abhorrent to him. He wants the comfort of someone he knows close to him, and even more he wants the security of someone he knows will be able to kill if he finds he can't do it. Roland knows his way around a battlefield. If they're together there's a chance they may both come out alive.

[ka_sera_sera]

"No. Wiser, maybe, but I wouldn't. I'd keep you with me, Signless, whether for good or ill. But we may not have a choice. The days when I gave orders on a field of battle are well behind me here."

He shakes his head, feeling his forehead move against Signless', and watches steadily his close up view of those red, familiar eyes. "Stay behind someone."

But he's speaking useless words now, talking just to stave off the inevitable. He stops himself as soon as he realizes it. They've been separated before, did in fact spend most of their shared arenas separate. This is different. This is more than a cruel play dreamed up by spoiled children. This is real. If he's going to say something, he is going to mean it.

"Signless. I love thee."

He doesn't need to say it, of course. Signless knows, and knows it very well. But Roland wants to.

[69problems]

He doesn't need to say it, no, but it still makes Signless's heart ache to hear it. Roland's been saying it for a year now in his gestures and his glances and his gentle, attentive care, but it isn't lost on Signless that he's never truly said it. That he's choosing to now, as they stand on the edge of a battle they may not come back from (who knows if the revival mechanics will be in play outside of the arena? Signless doesn't trust the Capitol enough to rely on it), is also not lost on him.

Now is the time to say these things, before they lose their chance to ever say them again.

"And I love you, Roland, with everything that I am." He can feel the weight of the necklace he wears where it sits beneath his shirt, and he's glad now more than ever that he has it.

"And -- and if something does happen, if we lose each other--" And of course he means if they're separated on the field. That's all he means. "We'll find each other again. I believe that too."

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland remembers instantly what Signless refers to. What it is that Signless means. He remembers, and he slides a hand away from Signless's neck to set it on his chest, long fingers spread, palm pressing gently over where the little wheel rests on Signless' chest.

If he is going to say something, he is going to mean it.

He shuts out the sounds of the peacekeepers, their shouts and the noise of their uniforms as they ready themselves for war. He shuts out the noise of their boots, moving in time and moving closer.

He bends down a little more, feels his own necklace slip out from his shirt, sees the marbled red and white swing forward. He presses his lips to Signless' again, and means it.