If we met at midnight

[etcircenses]

Who| All those on the liberation mission and all those being made to fight against them.
What| The liberation of District 2.
Where| District 2.
When| This week.
Warnings/Notes| War, violence, death. Please warn for more in headers.

The hovercrafts fly in over the tall mountains of the Rockies, dwarfing the towering trees. From the sky, the scene is beautiful, all glittering snow, blue water, and green that never fades. The planes stretch on into the east, seeming never to end. Nestled in the mountains is a city that doesn't appear to have ever seen better days. It's worn and patched, and were the temperature a little warmer, one's first thought might be of the old west. The trains only add to this image, going all over into the various mining mountains.

Propaganda can be seen everywhere here in the city; posters of Snow, of Capitol supporting Tributes, things seeking to inspire District unity. If it seems to rebels like they're the bad guys here, that's because they are. District two doesn't want liberation. A District home to people loyal to the Capitol, to their District and the Peacekeepers, fans of the Games, and full of indoctrination, rebels are not only unwelcome, they're considered threats. Loyalty means everything to them and rebels are disruptions to this loyalty. There will be no help from the people here unless you're a soldier for the Capitol, in which case, housing and bed are offered, as well as munitions. Poster of Albert, Anna, and Felicity have been placed up, saying "The Courage Of Sacrifice!", "The Light Of Victory Shines Ahead!, and "To A Bright And Protected Future!", respectively.

If you serve the rebellion, however, it's off to the mountains with you. It's not exactly safe, but it's the best that can be managed until a takeover is made. The hovercraft lands upon a wider ledge of the snowy mountainside, sitting there rather precariously. There's no cave, and only barely enough room in the hovercraft. Resources are heavily rationed. Camp fires will need to be made outside the plane, and food hunted. Simply pulling in breath in the high altitudes may be difficult. Fight off frostbite may be more so. The moaning winds inspire all kinds of paranoia. Best stick close to one another.

Although everyone is lucky to find the sun shines during the day, allowing for some warmth, as the night falls, the temperature drops. The District shuts down all power, putting it all into heating and leaving the city in total darkness. This provides an advantage of cover for everyone, but if you're not a Districter used to the dark, seeing what you're doing may very well be a problem.

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]

"Of course I should be talking about it. Might not get another chance. I won't cut myself off from it." Roland watches the inside of his closed eyes, thinking. He's spoken of it freely, of Jake and the sacrifices he made. He hasn't cut himself off from it, has he? He's spoken on it, as much as he's able.

"It should be alright, shouldn't it? I've remembered it. It mattered, and I have remembered it. And it hurts, oh it hurts. It should be alright to leave it again, think on other things. I think it's alright."

Roland searches for something else and finds it, after a moment. A general enough detail that it isn't too hard to pick out among all the memories shoving their way through his mind, something that mattered. "He had a pet, as a boy ought. I never did, not after the dog who died when I was but three. Jake's was a billy bumbler. Do you have those in your where? He didn't. They're like dogs, sometimes more intelligent, said to be more loyal. This one was both. Saved our lives more than once. And what did he get for it?"

Roland takes a breath, opens his eyes. He stares at the center of the room. "It's gone, I think." His voice isn't hesitant, but only because he may not be capable of sounding like that. It isn't hesitant, but it's very close. "Or fading. The- the- I almost don't see it any more."

[foundafamily]

Whatever criteria Roland's using to determine if he's said enough, Firo knows he's not the best judge. But he's satisfied--relieved, too--with Roland's conclusion.

He blinks up at him. "A pet?" That's where he goes after sacrifice? Well, whatever works for him. At least they're on a different topic. "No, we didn't."

Firo's hold on Roland only relaxes slightly when he whips his head around to look where the door should be. "What? The door?" Does he dare hope? Whatever the hell that thing is, he wants it gone. He'd kick it down himself if he could see it, as revenge for what it's doing to Roland.

[ka_sera_sera]

"The door. The Tower."

For a second, he only watches. "The last I'll ever see of it," he says, and while there's no obvious sadness in the words, there's no joy or relief in them, either.

"If you'd ask the what or the how of it, now may be your last chance." But it isn't a moment before Roland goes on, wanting to tell too much to really consider that Firo might not want to know. "It was - What was it? How to explain? It was a legend. The Manni always knew there were thousands of worlds, even when the rest of us forgot and doubted. The legend came from them, maybe, the knowledge of one place where all of our worlds - yours, mine, this one, there's a Tower in this one, somewhere, in some form - overlap. Interlock. And it was falling. And I was the one who-"

Who what? He tries to remember. What was it he did? He remembers stepping through its door for the first time, and later, stepping through its door for the first time, and stepping through again, and he remembers, he remembers -

He's slumping again against Firo, his breaths unsteady. "Did I?" He asks it faintly, and if hesitant isn't a mood which belongs in Roland's voice, whatever quiet, uncertain tone this is ought to have stayed away, too.

"I must have. I remember so many things, but not after. Is there one? After even this world's Tower is shut from me, what more is there? What more could there be, for a man like the one I am? The one I've turned myself into, in pursuit of it? I remember. All these memories, and I can't find that one. I never expected there'd be an after, after all. After everything. Maybe there isn't one. Maybe I can't find the memory because it simply isn't there."

"You see more than I do, right now. Do you see it? If there's a path for me, once this shuts? Once it's shut forever, at least from me?"

[foundafamily]

The Tower. For all the trouble it's caused, Firo finds he's not too curious about the thing itself. It was there, it's relentlessly tormented his friend, and now it's going. Good fucking riddance. If the thing and it's influence on Roland are going to be gone, then all of Firo's questions about it really aren't too important.

He rocks a bit with the unexpected weight when Roland leans against him, but he's quick to right himself.

For the answer to Roland's question, Firo hardly has to think. Not because it's not an important question, but because the answer is very plain to him. "Of course there is. I can't tell you what it is--only you can figure out what you wanna do. But once this is all over, I can help you, if you want."

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland stares at him. Then, slowly, he nods. "I do. I do want that. Thank you, Firo. Thank you for everything."

He watches, gaze steady, the center of the room. The door, the screaming behind it, the sand, it fades. It goes. Now this room is just a room, a cell, and Roland takes a deep, unsteady breath, and holds Firo's hand. I thought I was done with it, it was done with me. Now - now it's well and truly... Over. It's over. I did it, and it's let me go."

It may not seem to have occurred to Roland that this is happy news. He leans forward, head bowed and taking more deep, unsteady breaths which he keeps under control only with difficulty. The welts on his hand, he notices absently, have shrunk down, are nearly gone. He breathes.

[foundafamily]

"Good." He even smiles a little just to have the confirmation that Roland will go on and give it a shot. "It's no problem."

Firo sighs, the tension slowly leaving his body, and squeezes Roland's hand. After some thought, he moves the hand he's been using to support Roland up and down his back in uncertain, halting movements.

Maybe this is one question Firo will ask. It relates to Roland's wellbeing just as much as the Tower, after all. "Isn't that a good thing? You don't have to worry about it anymore."

[ka_sera_sera]

"Since I was a boy." It may not seem like an answer, this, but it is one. It'll turn into one, in good time. "Fourteen. I've dreamt of it. This great black shape, amidst a sea of living red. And the sunset. Oh, the sunset. I remember. And I remember. And I re-"

He shudders. Feels the hand on his back. He focuses on the touch and it draws him back, and after a moment, he starts over. "I remember the dreams. I've followed them. Followed it. All my life - or a very great deal of it, anyway. To say it in a way which might come clearer to you, I served it, Firo. I served it, and k- damn it, I'll tell you in the words of my own world one day. You'll hear the High Speech from my own mouth. For now, it's enough to say there are forces which drove me there, forces I served. Ones we all do, in one way or another. We do what we must. And what I must do is done. The thing I always knew that I would do, the place I knew I would go, and I spent so much- I gave so much- Not all of which was mine to give, or oughtn't have been."

"But I was led there, so there I went, no matter the how of it. And now, now it's as if one of your bosses had sent you west - into exile, that is, in the parlance of my old home - without telling you what more they expected of you, or if they expected anything at all. Giving you no task, no direction. I knew what the end of my path looked like, Firo, I always knew. And I reached it. This should be the clearing - but that's more phrasing I've never heard you, nor anyone in this world save those from mine, use. The clearing at the end of my path. The end of this life, at least for me. And now I've passed it, somehow. Freedom is a great and terrible thing, Firo. But you're here."

He looks around at Firo, frowning almost as if the idea confuses him. "You're still here. After it's all ended, someone still is at my side. And that's something."

[foundafamily]

Involuntarily, he sucks in a breath of air. What Roland’s describing—aimless exile—is pure nightmare to him, and now for the first time he thinks he understands the reaction to the tower’s absence. If he were in Roland’s shoes, well, he doesn’t even want to imagine what he’d be feeling.

Yes, there is something, and he clings to that hope when Roland says it. “It’s a start,” he smiles weakly. Perhaps some fear still lingers on the edges of it, but… but Firo’s sure they can get through this, and he needs to be strong for Roland. “You’ll be okay. And we’ll find something for you, I promise. So long as you’re still alive, we’ve still got a shot.”

And he is alive. That’s not changing any time soon if Firo can help it.