digitalrcge

[digitalrcge]

@losinqtouch​

somewhere bizarrely central 

She’s blending. It’s the last thing she thought possible, given the way she’s felt as if one of the many baying for her blood might’ve pinned a target to her back. But all things considered Digit is performing better than she has in years. Not hiding in some darkened corner, conforming to the pastel-coated nonsense that tempts her trembling fingers to slip and shroud herself in tea stains. She isn’t sure she’s even offended anyone yet. There’s still time, and she’s plenty capable if she’d just snap out of this lonely little bubble. 

There’s something sad about her specific brand of fear. A self-aware coward, she’s never been one to hide that fact that she’s, well, hiding. This, however, is different. Removed from the people she’d consider her usual haunts Digit finds herself at a total loss. She needs Robyn, but after the look on their face when last she’d seen them that’s simply not an option. No amount of grovelling, even if she was of a mind to do it, would fix it. Digit knows well enough that to keep pushing back is more pathetic than productive. But there are others, an old friend she finds herself drifting toward before she’s the chance to second-guess. 

“You look like somebody’s accountant.” 

[digitalrcge]

othcrhalf​:

DIGIT’S ALWAYS BEEN stubborn, but this is something else. She’d rather it be everyone else’s fault than her own. Can’t even admit to how badly she’d ruined things for so many people. Can’t own up to the fact that it was her idea that had gotten people abducted, hurt, perhaps even killed. And now this Silver business that clearly can’t be resolved no matter what happens or what anyone else says comes up again, and they’ve just about had it. Digit’s mind is made up; has long been made up, and at this point, they don’t know if it’s still worth it trying to talk through this with her. “We did talk,” they say, exasperated. “They didn’t try to paint themself as the good person here, if that’s what you’re wondering. I know you fought about it. I know in the end you still couldn’t see eye to eye.” They pause. “I know that your own reasons barely made sense even to you.”

.

So they did talk. Of course, she’d figured that much out for herself but to hear it from Robyn still comes with its own painful implications. She can’t ask. There ought to be some justice in knowing that Silver didn’t try to defend themselves from her harsh judgement (at least not entirely), yet Digit finds herself stuck in that loop of needing them to be wrong. It’s getting harder to overlook the changes. “You don’t know what’s going on in my head.” Nor, for that matter, does she. They’re right about that and she hates them for it. Then, because she can’t help herself, “Or theirs. Do you?” 

[digitalrcge]

othcrhalf​:

“OH, I MADE it harder? And Swann made it harder? And…” They gesture vaguely with a hand. “Who knows who else?” They give it a moment, watch her, a corner of their mouth lifted in a challenging, cynical smile. Then they scoff, turning their head away, barely believing what they’re hearing from her now. She phrases it like an accusation, like something they ought to have known before any of this could have happened. Like it’s somehow their fault for getting close to her. For daring to want to know her. To consider her a friend. “I wasn’t aware there was a plan here that we all had to adjust to,” they continue, voice and expression incredulous, yet somehow scornful, as they glance back at her. “Forgive me for that, Digit. Suppose we’ve all ruined everything for you now, haven’t we.”

.

“Yes.” She’d fold her arms if she could. Stare them down, maybe. Anything to stave off the feeling of being mocked for something that, in her opinion, is a very real concern. “Ask Si- Ask them.” She’s lost count of the number of times she’s warned them. That it only happened during those rare instances of good humour when they’d find themselves working together is something Digit chooses to ignore. The damage is done now, it’s all she can do to point them to the warning signs. “They knew.” 

[digitalrcge]

othcrhalf​:

“WHAT?” ROBYN HISSES. They still can’t remove the venom in their tone. It’s the worst feeling, being here, going through this, understanding they don’t have to but knowing full well they can’t let any of what’s happened slide either. Can’t possibly let things go unaddressed and undiscussed when it’s too massive a matter. What would she have them do? Ignore it and move on? Allow her and their relationship ( if there ever was one ) to sink into obscurity, just like that? “If you have something to say to me, Digit, then say it. I’m choosing to speak frankly with you, and I think you ought to be extending the courtesy of doing the same.”

.

For someone who prides herself on her ability to say exactly what’s on her mind and damn the consequences, Digit shrinks when those thoughts are of a more personal nature. She’s gotten so good at hiding her story behind witty observations and verbose insults that she wouldn’t know where to start with all that. It’s ridiculous, she knows. The silver lining is knowing anything she says now will pale in comparison to a much larger problem. “You made it harder.” Digit narrows her eyes, lets the accusation sit a moment. “And Swann. And--” She stops, scowls. The list is longer than she’d like, longer than she needs to make her point. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” 

[digitalrcge]

othcrhalf​:

THEY SUPPOSE THAT’S something, but it doesn’t exactly amount to much now, does it? “Oh, I don’t want this either, Digit,” they answer back almost immediately, curbing the urge to lean forward. Movement, a physical attempt to become just a little bit closer, is a layer they don’t dare remove. They have to sit there, stay still, keep themself planted on the spot. Their voice is wavering enough; if they deign to incline their body, they’re that much closer to doing something they’ll end up regretting. Standing, then approaching her, or perhaps leaving and ending things for good. “Do you think I sat here and waited for you to come back so we could talk because I wanted to? Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I liked hearing the truth about your involvement?” They had been so close to using the word betrayal. Should they have?

.

She can’t help but wonder whether they really mean to sympathise with her or if it’s some sort of clever ruse. Neither fit the idea of Robyn, but then she could say the same for their conducting this interrogation. And her co-operating. Fuck. Digit knows nothing. “You don’t have to,” she says, and thinks it of the both of them. “Don’t call it involvement like I wasn’t the only one.” Her expression hardens; she’d rather her burden an honest one. 

[digitalrcge]

ncllysnge​:

Nelly licks her lips and her eyebrows pull together when Digit says that no one is going to die. “You’re so convinced of that?” Even Nelly knows that that’s a naive thought to have after such a grand gestures at such a highly populated event.

But Nelly tells herself to keep her composure and she decides to collect herself by rearranging the silverware in front of her to be in their proper dinner placement, with her used cloth napkin neatly folded over her plate. “I have no doubts that people are upset with you right now, and that you will likely become more isolated than you have ever been. I think if you know what you did was right, that’s enough. Because that’s all you have right now.” Nelly gives a pressed smile, then stands, walking over to Digit to give her shoulder a squeeze. “If you ever find you want someone to talk to, Digit, you can always find me. I’ve been told I am a very good listener.” Nelly gives her shoulder a pat.

“Now if you excuse me, I haven’t been my friend Cinna since the wedding and I’m going to continue asking for them.” She’s not. She knows they’re dead, but she’s leaving Digit’s wrongful hopefulness to sit on the lunch plate in front of her, staring at her.

[digitalrcge]

othcrhalf​:

THEY’VE BEEN SO good at it all these years. No one else understood her the way they had. Digit liked to be a wildcard, unpredictable, prove everyone right and become strange and incalculable, but in her need to show herself as that, Robyn had found in her a pattern. And though they could never fully predict exactly what her next words would be, they were never surprised either, never completely caught unaware. There had never been any genuine confusion either. Now, they feel little else but. “Digit, I am in no mood for hints and riddles,” they say, tone firm, one they’ve never used on her before. “Frankly, I’m fucking tired. You tell it to me straight.”

.

There’s a joke in there somewhere but she can’t find it. Perhaps if she could and it was good enough this would blow over. She’s too fond of Robyn’s laugh to want to face it now, the memory of it tarnished by whatever this is. She steels herself against the edge in their voice. Demand, plain and simple, for an answer she doesn’t know that she has in her. “I don’t know what I want.” It’s no longer past tense. “But it’s not this.” How else is she supposed to put it into words? She’d tried with Silver, but blind rage and seeing just what her actions had done mocked even the thought of trying. 

[digitalrcge]

othcrhalf​:

ROBYN SHAKES THEIR head, visibly bothered, the lines on their face even more pronounced in the dim light. “No. No, it doesn’t.” They don’t notice how deeply their nails are digging into the wood of the arm rests until it makes a sound, their finger having dragged down on it involuntarily. Every inch of them is tense. Digit looks at them, almost as if she’s trying to tell them something, and they hate that they have to keep playing this game even now, that they have to try and interpret her the way they’ve already been doing for so long already when they could easily just talk. Honestly, and openly, they could simply talk.

“So where does this leave us?”

.

Digit winces, the sound crashing the illusion she’d built in her head that it was ever really the two of them. She lifts her head slowly to watch Robyn directly. Their question is one she’d hoped she’d never have to answer--it doesn’t feel right putting the decision in her hands after everything she’s proven herself capable of. She ought to end this, now. Put herself out of her misery but she doesn’t. Heat rushes to her face and she blinks away pressure. “I don’t want to go.”

[digitalrcge]

othcrhalf​:

“Do I?” They have to ask this because they genuinely don’t think they do, after everything that’s happened. The aftermath her foolish actions have caused. Despite that tinge of clear self-deprecation in many of her responses to idle chatter, Digit’s always projected a kind of pride in being different, as though she were a cut above the rest, knowing things other people didn’t, thinking everyone else a bit like sheep. On bad days, perhaps playthings to harmlessly mess around with. But there’s the rub: it’s always been harmless. Since when did that change? “Do I know you, Digit? I want to think I did, for a time,” they continue. “But what you’ve done makes no sense to me.”

.

“Yes.” She’s leaning forward now, hands curled around the armrests beside her. There’s something urgent in her tone that hadn’t been there moments before, spark of a fight she ought to know is already lost. She needs to believe that Robyn sees her, that they ever saw her at all. They’ve always seemed so secure, carrying themselves with a confidence bordering on arrogance that says they don’t care. They notice things, they accept them or they don’t. They accepted her, didn’t they? “It doesn’t make sense.” On anyone else, it might have been a confession. On Digit, it’s a source of shame. 

[digitalrcge]

othcrhalf​:

ROBYN’S FROWN DEEPENS, and he sighs deeply, lengthily, drawing out his disappointment over another non-answer. It’s hard to tell what she’s feeling inside with her face all bloodied and scrunched up the way it is. It’s hard to look at body language for clues too when her body can barely keep itself upright. And it’s hard to figure out what the hell is going on inside her mind when she isn’t giving him anything real to work with. Robyn hates it, and he wishes Digit would stop, wishes she would be more candid with him. Why isn’t she coming in to explain herself? She’d tried with Silver, hadn’t she? Had doing that shown her precisely how ridiculous her own reasons for doing any of this were? Has she ran out of justifications?

“I don’t know, Digit, you tell me,” he says with an exasperated shrug. Robyn chews on the inside of their bottom lip and turns elsewhere. The light from the lamp creates shadows on the wall, making certain things look larger than they actually are, and he distracts himself with that for a good moment, lost in thought, before finally exhaling sharply, and shaking their head again. “I thought I understood you, but I guess I thought wrong,” they murmur, hating how real that statement feels when they say it. They’ve been thinking that since Silver had told them the truth, and the fact that they have to say it upsets them. One more time, they turn their head back to look at her.

“I don’t know who you are. I don’t know who I’ve been talking to all this time.”

.

“I haven’t changed.” Her mouth is dry and throbbing. It’s hard to speak and it shows in lengthy pauses, the way her tongue catches and fluency gives way to muffled, stumbling sounds. “You know me.” They have to. Out of everyone, Digit always had the sense that Robyn understood her more than they let on. She never felt as if she had to explain away everything she said or thought or felt because they just knew. “You don’t like it. They’re not the same.” 

[digitalrcge]

othcrhalf​:

“OH? I WAS hoping we could have a conversation. You’ve always been very good at that, haven’t you?”

Robyn won’t lie. Digit’s given them a non-answer, and it upsets them. They want to get angry at her for thinking she can sit her way out of this one, keep her mouth shut and leave them to talk inanely at a wall. Fortunately, they’re not above answering her displays of attitude with biting responses of their own. Her state, painful as it’s sure to be for her and terrible as it is to witness for them ( the slowness in her gait, as well as the gasp she’d failed to temper as she forced herself to sit haven’t at all been lost on him ), does nothing to hold them back or deter them from giving her a piece of their mind. If she intends to let them talk while she sits there without a peep, then they’ll play that game for as long as it’s needed. She’s bound to react to something eventually. They’ll make sure she will. No one else is out, Silver’s knocked out, the Tributes and their prep teams are all tucked safely inside their rooms, and the rest of the night is ahead of them. Robyn doesn’t need rest just now; they’ve got nothing but time.

“I’m surprised you’ve no wish to explain yourself either.” They’re not surprised, not in the slightest. The look on their face says it all. In the years they’ve known each other, Robyn had seen her rudeness through rose-tinted lenses, their affection for her enough to get them to excuse her more caustic barbs, even ones said without good reason. Most of them had been directed at other poor souls — Silver being one of them, perhaps getting the brunt of it, the worst of all her insults — but even when she’d thrown some his way, he’d justified them, had done nothing beyond rolling their eyes and tossing something back at her. There are no two ways about it: Digit is no pleasant person at all. Robyn had known it, hadn’t bothered to do anything about it, and now, that impertinence is coming at them in full force. They’re upset, but they’re not surprised. Not at all.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be, though. Insolence isn’t anything new from you,” they continue, steadying their breathing. It’s so quiet here tonight, and every word feels weighted, heavy, echoing in the empty dim. Robyn has to wonder now if the thrashing’s done anything for her. Regret would be nice, but perhaps that’s wishful thinking. Has it only served to make her angrier instead? Disappointing, if that’s the case. “Do you feel satisfied?”

.

There’s something unnerving in having her faults laid before her this way, devoid of the usual fondness. In part she wishes they’d all work together, compile a list or something similarly mundane, and slip it beneath her door. Anything but this. Digit is in danger of laughing. Not that what Robyn is saying is funny in any way. It isn’t. She simply doesn’t know how else to react. For that reason, she doesn’t appear to at all. No eye contact, nothing so bold as that, Digit just stares emptily at the floor between them. 

To hear that they wonder if there’s any satisfaction in this is ugly. Wrong. The word doesn’t compute. “Should I be?” For them, she supposes it’s an offering. There’s nothing more she can give them now but a blank space to project whatever it is they need to think she’s doing. Digit’s own confusion finds comforting in thinking maybe they’ll give her answers. If they tell her the worst and it clicks... well, that’s direction, isn’t it? She swallows. “’s long time coming.” 

[digitalrcge]

ncllysnge​:

–

Certainly, Nelly doesn’t think what Digit did was good or productive, but it takes a lot for her to consider someone bad or evil, because most people have good intentions, and most people, upon seeing the affects of their actions, would be able to see if they did something harmful, or bad. She doesn’t think Digit is much different. Even if what she did… really, really had terrible effects.

Nelly knows that Digit’s actions might have played a part in Cinna’s death, and she’s certain it’s death now. But she knows her own anger, or disappointment, or disgust, would do nothing to Digit.

But Digit’s words do feel sour in Nelly’s stomach and maybe she’d upheave her tiny sandwiches if she weren’t so… shocked, that she was even having this conversation. “You had to do something.” Nelly repeats, emphasis on that single word, because Nelly thinks ‘something’ could be anywhere from creating hand-made pottery, or assembling a flash mob, but staging a rebel announcement and having people turn up dead is certainly not in her category of ‘something’. She’s also trying not to take offense, considering she put together the whole celebration and she thought it was pretty memorable.

She wants to ask Digit what in the world she was thinking but instead she goes, “You couldn’t afford a decent gift but you could afford gambling the lives of your friends?” There’s genuine confusion. She knows what happened to Silver, she thought they were friends, or at least had some deep bond you only get with those you share a district with. Nelly can’t imagine the thought process that would lead to something so dangerous.

.

“Silver isn’t my friend.” Funny how it’s their name she thinks of first. She’ll tell herself it means nothing, that it’s only logical she’d leap to the one person she’d known would suffer. “I wasn’t-- nobody is going to die.” But they could. Digit knows it, and she doesn’t doubt that Nelly does, too. The threat of being vanished is an ever-present one. The more she thinks, the worse it gets.  “I was making a point.” 

What, exactly, the point was is beyond even Digit’s understanding. She’s not come close yet to wrapping up what happened into something neat, something palatable, something she might stand a chance at brushing off as a joke. She’ll think she knows her reasoning until it hits that she doesn’t. Then, she starts again, weaving each new facet of this betrayal into the last. Rinse, repeat.  

[digitalrcge]

silverostro​:

…

It sounds as if she’s trying to convince herself as much as she’s trying to convince them that that is who they are. It’s nearly sad, it likely would be if they weren’t sitting in the circumstances they were, if Silver wasn’t nursing a searingly cool rage they don’t know what to do with, if she hadn’t made them lose their mind, their fingers, their tools for reasons she doesn’t even fully seem to understand herself. That isn’t who they are, they know that with certainty, not any longer, and it isn’t who Digit had to be, either. But she mad her choice, just as they made their choice, too, in opposite directions. They suddenly realize they feel no more obligation to her to try to steer into a place it’s clear she has no desire to be; they’ll be content to take the things she doesn’t believe they can be themself, and hold onto them in the absence of being able to hold a pen, or hold a screwdriver, or anything else.

They can’t consider this talking down to her, when she’s sunken so low, put herself there with the choices she didn’t consider the consequences to. They acknowledge their part in it, but any of that guilt, and need for forgiveness has dissipated for the moment because of how clear she’s made it that she didn’t even have a good reason for all of this pain and danger she’s put everyone in.

Silver shrugs, not looking back at her. “No…You’re speaking to the wrong old victor…if you want to know who knows the most… you’re looking at the wrong Quell….” Silver offers, because maybe that knowledge might be a small consolation prize, but they don’t really have much faith in that. After all, they’ll have to make certain once they’ve rested that he knows, too, what has happened. “You’re intelligent enough to have answers to those questions. Who, and why now… none of us know what is next, though…but I appreciate your twisted faith in me… I wouldn’t sit back…but I wouldn’t make the choice to…endanger all those around me, either…”

Not that any of that matters, not that they believe Digit cares much to hear about any of that, either. She finally gets up from their side, clearly angry, and it feels as if they can breathe a little better, although it still hurts the way their chest rises and falls, how ragged their breath is, without her by their side. All the better if she leaves them be, lets them sit here in their pain, in the cloud of static, loud and all consuming, until they can gather the strength to drag themself to their room.

Her words make them let out a little breath, and they close their eyes again. Perhaps they’ll let themself drift into unconsciousness sitting here on the floor instead, body too exhausted. As long as they don’t have to look at her any longer just now.

“Well, may the odds be…ever in your favor, Digit Copperforge.”

FIN.

[digitalrcge]

hcllisfm​:

…

Hollis actively avoids being rude to people. He spent years being mistreated by his peeps both on Eight and the Capitol, so he is very much against being mean for the sake of it. But Digit is the perfect example of someone he would be more than willing to ignore his morals for. She makes it really hard to like her. And while it appear that is the last thing she wants, Hollis believes there must be a part of her that does want to be liked, though acts out after not getting that.

“Because the whole crass act is rather bothering, especially when it comes from you.“ She has a reputation, one Hollis actively ignored along with whatever comments people made in regards to her person. 

“Hm. Well, I certainly see why you’re not interested in that. I don’t think there is a way for you to ever be adored by a single person, let alone a crowd, as small as it could be.“

.

“Less of an act, more of a fundamental flaw.” Digit shrugs. “But thanks for your input.” 

Hollis’s words might’ve hurt if she couldn’t see the logic behind them, hadn’t exhausted what little energy she had for trying to be likeable. She can’t. It’s pointless trying to win anyone over when it’ll always be in the back of her mind that those rumours preface everything she’ll ever say or do. That, and she’s pretty fucking awkward. Look at the lengths she’s gone to just to get a little attention. 

“Alright.” She folds her arms across her chest, leans back in her seat. “Since you’re the expert, why don’t you give me some pointers?” 

[digitalrcge]

othcrhalf​:

“No.”

Simple as that, straight out. No beating around the bush with Digit anymore because he wants to be firm with her, and he needs her to know that he isn’t about to let her leave, that this isn’t a conversation she has any right to escape or worm her way out of. It’s miraculous that she even asks for permission, which the Digit Robyn had known never would have done, and uncharacteristic though it is for her, they’re relieved for it. They don’t know what they would have ended up doing had she ignored them or tried to come up with some sort of excuse not to talk. Perhaps she knows that, and perhaps she’s remorseful. They don’t want to keep their hopes up of course, not with her, not when she’s hurt them so much, but after she’s been beaten up so harshly, Digit would have to be a monster if she’s come out of it feeling nothing at all.

“Can you sit? Let’s talk,” Robyn says. Their voice is soft and low but not at all gentle, nothing calming about it just now, practically emotionless and blank. They’re asking if she can and not if she may, done out of pure curiosity, out of a need to know if she’s able to drag herself around enough to find the seat right in front of her and stay there, and not out of some misplaced need to show deep concern and worry for her, and it’s clear in their tone, in their impassive expression. They have to wonder if it’s the Capitol that’s done this to her, but she’s not exactly been gone long enough for her absence to have counted as a full-on disappearance, and somehow, she isn’t in the same kind of disarray that someone fresh from a Capitol beating might have had. Now, if she could hobble all the way back here despite being in such a sorry state, then perhaps it won’t be too hard to sit down. The talking bit, they’re not so certain about; that’s sure to be tough no matter what.

They keep their gaze on her, forcing their mind to take note of and remember every detail, every part of her that appears to have been punched and pounded bloody, all the deformities on her face, the bruises that are sure to bloom there with time. It’s not a pleasant sight to see to see at all, but it does something to them, knowing how they feel about her. They still want to know who it was that did it. Maybe, Robyn thinks morbidly, they’d walk up to them and congratulate them for it. Who’s to say? It all depends. 

They shift slightly in their seat, legs still crossed. “I think I’m owed that, yes, Digit?”

.

Robyn sending her away would’ve been too easy. She’s sure she’s supposed to argue, but her body has other ideas. It follows their instruction long before Digit decides that they’re right, she owes them this much. The quiet isn’t kind to her. There’s little she can do about it now, with no energy left to busy herself the way she often does. No doors to slam or papers to rustle as white noise to shroud herself. She’s silent as she shuffles, too slow, around the chair that’s become her crutch. A pained gasp escapes her as she forces herself to sit, one she doesn’t bother to stifle. It’s clear now that pity is the least of their concerns. She ought to send Blythe a thank you note. 

It’s the conversation she fears more than anything. With Silver it’d been simpler if not because their opinions were already rock bottom, then because those feelings had haunted her for years. Maybe not in those precise terms, but at least she’d had a focal point. Giving them her reasons hadn’t been easy by any stretch of the imagination, nor had she found any more satisfaction in her honesty than she had in handing their name to the peacekeepers. She has to wonder how much of that information has passed on to Robyn now, if they don’t look her way and see the petulant brat who would sacrifice them all for the chance to matter. 

No matter which way she looks, Digit can’t control the narrative. Robyn’s thoughts are their own, she’d tie herself in knots trying to figure out what lurks beneath their cool gaze. They offer her nothing. She sits back, hands pressed into the plush cushion as she tries to find some way to make herself marginally comfortable. There’s no doubt in her mind that if she asked, someone would fix her. They owe her that in much the same way she owes Robyn their answers. It seems neither of them will get what they need. 

“You talk. I’ll listen.” 

[digitalrcge]

ncllysnge​:

–

Nelly pulls her face together, then slowly shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I would have remembered going to the cinema. What was it about? Maybe that’ll jog my memory.” But she’s certain she didn’t see it. She wasn’t even in attendance at the end of the wedding to see the real show Digit is talking about.

But the Digit does help to jog her memory. She didn’t actually see the piece of media showed at the end of the night, but she knows what it is. The realization grants Digit a coo of, “Ohh,” With a nod, followed by a moment of realizing what this means, that Digit had meddled in the acts of the rebels. She was a rebel herself. “Oh.” her eyes go wide. Digit’s rebel antics had lead to the death of Cinna, and the capture of her friend Silver. She swallows hard and straightens herself in her seat. Maybe Digit has a very good explanation. “Are— well…” Nelly stops herself again and then leans forward to look at Digit. “Do you think you did the right thing?” It’s the only thing on her mind, and the only place she can think to start with.

.

Whatever reaction she’d expected from Nelly, this isn’t it. This is... strange. Reasonable. The the point where Digit finds herself staring, open-mouthed, waiting for the penny to drop. She’s sure there’s supposed to be at least a hint of anger, disgust, disappointment. Whatever. Somehow the revelation felt bigger in her head and now that it’s done and she’s still breathing Digit can, well, breathe. 

“At the time.” Now, she’s not so sure. There’s something that doesn’t quite sit right with her now that goes beyond the guilt, beyond the unknown fate of her mentor. Beyond herself. Just because she’d do it again doesn’t mean it was ever the right decision. “I had to do something, you know? Make sure the celebration was one to remember. Couldn’t afford a decent gift so...” The joke makes her feel sick. 

[digitalrcge]

silverostro​:

…

Her words, time and time again, prove how little she understands the bigger picture of all of this. It’s clear to them that she’s so caught up in the longstanding bitterness, in the pain that their neglect caused, that she can’t see anything else clearly, either, no matter how much it seems she believes that she does, that she’s right in everything she says, that she’s some mad genius for how she’s cracked the code to how to handle dangerous secrets and rebellion. The anger doesn’t subside, but it feels a little useless, just like their mind, their hands, another broken part of them they aren’t sure they can even use for anything helpful any longer.

“Oh yes, Digit…those are the only few who matter…Fuck everyone else,” Silver spits, voice dripping with venom despite how it wavers. “That’s how you want me to act…yes? That’s how you think, after all…Have you ever tried to speak to any of them…with anything other than your deflective humor? It’s…it’s quite astounding…what people are willing to speak about…when you offer your own vulnerability…show that you’re trustworthy…It wasn’t too late for that…I discovered that myself…there were other solutions…”

They have to pause again, catch their breathe in how ragged it is, their chest aching with every inhale, and they wonder vaguely if the fall from their seat, the punches and kicks that followed might have broken a rib. A small price, in comparison.

“You believe the answer…is to tell each and every person…the clandestine? That would do more harm than good…put everyone in even greater danger…as well as risk any possibility of plans succeeding…Not even I know what the rebels are doing…it’s frustrating, yes, but I understand… Ignorance isn’t fair, I’ll agree with that…but it sure as hell keeps more people safe longer…and gives plans made a better chance to succeed and help everyone…Fine…I have allowed others to be my canon fodder…but at least I knew what I was doing…” It’s an admission, not an excuse, and perhaps that would count for something if it was anyone but Digit Copperforge they were speaking too. “It’s not as if I can change what I’ve done…And all you’ve done is guaranteed you’ll remain in that ignorance you despise.”

She smiles, and they don’t look away, they keep their eyes firmly on hers. “Yes, Digit…congratulations…I’m exceptionally proud of you…you did something,” they say blandly, coolly, shake their head just slightly, not caring about the pain for a moment, too exhausted to care. As if they haven’t been working themself to exhaustion to come up with a plan to help stop the Games, not a plan to endanger all of them, all for a personal grudge that not even this could help. As if orchestrating some elaborate and dangerous scheme for the purpose of apparently unsatisfactory punishment is the better route to take. 

They don’t have the energy to keep arguing, their body and their mind alike are too exhausted from the pain, from the days without real sleep. Their hands feel as if they’re on fire, and the sensation of volts coursing through veins hasn’t subsided. Silver lets out a sigh, and lets their head fall back against the wall, finally looking away from her. They’re finished. They don’t care if she is or not. They don’t care much at all about what she does next. Silver closes their eyes, voice coming out barely more than a mutter.

“No need to worry…you won’t be burdened by any more promises from me.”

.

She’d not thought herself all that transparent until the harsh judgements of others began to be said to her, not about her. Digit is blunt, rude, melancholy, crass, a bitch, and every other bullshit thing she’s supposed to think an insult. She’d take each and every one of them over the nudge toward vulnerability. Never-mind being anyone’s idea of trustworthy. How Silver managed to achieve either is a mystery she’ll never solve. They’re cold, composed, shadowed by the allusion to a heartless machine. 

“That’s who you are.” It’s who she needs them to be. She can’t be the only one stuck. From where she’s standing, there’s no clear way out and she knows, she has to, that the longer she waits the worse it gets. But... it never lasts, does it? She tries, she fails, rinse and repeat. To see Silver, who’s faults she’d often thought the mirror of her own, claw their way out and now have the guts to say that it wasn’t too late. Past tense. They both know the truth now. 

There is no answer and that’s part of the problem. From where she’s standing, there’s no progress either. They’re stuck in the middle ground. Waiting, she supposes for the other side to make the first move. Biding their time. It’s worse, the not knowing, because there’s nothing to do but think at what might be going on when her back is turned. Some part of her, not insignificant, wonders if there isn’t a selection process or an interview process. A hierarchy that says who gets thrown a lifeline if everything goes to shit. Hell, it’s the training scores all over again and she’ll never make it out of this fucking cycle. 

“Don’t talk down to me.” She grits her teeth. Backed into a corner, there’s nothing left but to defend herself. Even as their words sink in and she knows there’s some wisdom behind them. “I’d wager you know more than everyone else, right?” They always do. “So put yourself in my position. Think you could sit back and twiddle your fucking thumbs--” her gaze flits to their hands and she winces, presses on regardless, “--while everything you know is changing? Look at the Quell. Who did that? Why now? What next?” 

Silver says they’re proud and she snaps. Digit pushes angrily to her feet, breath almost a growl. She has to think. It’s on the tip of her tongue to apologise and that’s maddening. There’s no air left in the room, the longer she sits beside them the more the doubts creep in and she begins to wonder if she hadn’t been wrong. She has to remind herself over and over that this, here, isn’t real. That maybe, because of her actions, the two people she needs to be safe might stand a chance now. One more year and she doesn’t have to worry about Page as much, he’ll never be here. If someone now thinks she’s loyal, if she has to be to protect what little remains, well...

“Guess I’ll take my chances with the fucking games.”