Who: Ondine and Maalik When: Right after this Where: D4’s floor of the training center What: Talking about the events of the linked scene. Warnings: SPOILERS for the linked log, swearing Status: Completed log that I WAS MEANT TO POST HOURS AGO IF I HADN'T FALLEN ASLEEP ON MY KEYBOARD. All of this was written without knowledge of the finale, just fyi
Marlin was dead.
It was simple as that. Simple as Two’s boy slicing his belly open, simple as breathing ceasing, simple as cannon fire. Marlin Felucca would never go home to his somber parents and their lighthouse, would never swim in the waves again, would never smile, would never make another joke to Peregrine, would never come back to them the way Ondine had begun to really believe he could. His body would be scooped up by the Capitol hovercraft to be returned to his District, where he would be sent back out to sea to sink beneath the foam.
Ondine sat achingly still in the plush and opulent leather, her eyes closed and her breathing labored as intangible iron bands tightened across her ribs, crushing and strangling her, impossibly heavy for something that was not real. Her fingers were still draped across the cool rim of her wine glass, full of a deep red that was splashed all over Marlin now. Deep, deadly red. Marlin was dead.
There was no warning. Ondine grabbed the glass and threw it at the wall with an angry noise somewhere between a growl and a scream. “Fuck! Fuck.” She lunged to her feet, her hair wild around her face as she reached out for the next object she could find--the wine bottle, which was mostly empty. This went against the floor in an explosion of glass that sprawled and scattered across the wood panels that filled the sitting room in District Four’s living area in the training center. It was just her and Maalik watching the games on the large screen that took up more than half the wall, and if she were not so angry, she might have spared a thought to gratefulness that it was only them. The silence and the emptiness of the space framed her, making every move and every sound that much bigger, that much louder for the absence of something else.
“They were supposed to go out at the end! Not by--” Ondine paced forwards, mindless of the glass she was splintering under her shoes. They clinked and glittered as they were shifted around, and to Ondine they were not there at all. She raked her fingers back through her hair and away from her face. Marlin was dead. Was it because she had picked him, and not Dory that he had died? Had she made some wrong move? How many times had she chosen wrong? How many times had Ondine made the wrong choice? How many times had she made a mistake that lead to ruin? How did she keep letting herself make the mistake of actually trying to get to know them, to even care an inch about these children, when one of them was always sure to die at least and she had been doing this for so many goddamn years?
A choked, aborted noise swelled in her throat and stayed there. “He was supposed to fucking make it. He was so close!”
Blank. That was how Maalik felt the second he saw Jet’s move (clever, clever boy to take out one even at the point of death). Had it not been one of his own, Maalik would’ve felt more inclined to admire the move instead of feeling - well, what was he feeling? Introspection was not his forte, but if it were Maalik would have realized his blank state to be a product of rejection.
He vehemently refused to believe what his eyes had just been witness too. Dory’s knife was real though, and it was slitting across neat and clean. So efficient, so smooth, only one could come home and Maalik had always been certain of his choice. Now there was no need for it. That was a relief as Ondine’s choice was evident and Maalik would not for the world pick a fight with his mentor.
Despite this, Marlin’s death upset him (or it would once he accepted it, because maybe, maybe the cameras were wrong). Marlin still had a chance, didn’t he? Yes, he would get up and win and come home. They would celebrate in District 4 and Ondine would smile and all would be well.
Except it wasn’t and the shattering glass broke Maalik out of his passive reverie, he remained seated - eyes wide as Ondine destroyed the bottle after the glass. Seeing her like this was not something Maalik was prepared for, having grown used to her being the one pulling him out of the gutter and his spells of self-pity.
What had just happened? Ondine was the strong one, he could only support and help her, but he could never have that fortitude. The crunching sound as she stepped forward, uncaring of the glass and Maalik thanked the god(s) for the small fact that Ondine was wearing shoes.
Marlin was dead. He had been so close. Enough to almost grab it in his hand. Marlin and Dory had shown true solidarity, they had been a good team, more solid than others and that had helped them. Now Dory was alone in the arena, and he couldn’t do anything for her.
However, he could do something for Ondine and he unhesitantly rose to his feet and slipped his arms around her with ease in an attempt to anchor her in the now. Marlin was dead. Dory was not. They had to hold together, a little longer, just a little longer and -maybe- they could bring someone home.
When something real and heavy wrapped around her, Ondine’s immediate instinct was to push against it, to fight. She shoved out with her hands, fierce and violent. Only when her palms hit Maalik’s chest did she realized who it was, or that it was a who at all. It was only Maalik. Only Maalik, trying to hug her, his old and poor tempered mentor who couldn’t keep it together after thirty years of mentoring on and off. Now, the noise in her throat managed a quiet escape as a hiss that was part pain, part anger.
But she held herself where she was, no matter how her body shied from the encompassing and claustrophobic touch. Her hands trembled with the effort and her fingers curled into fists. Her eyes fixated on the floor and a glint of light--a piece of glass, spun to face the wide windows and shine the image back to her. Her pulse thudded in her veins, quick and deafening to her ears. Her every nerve was oversensitive, hyper aware of anything that touched her--her hair, her clothes, and mostly Maalik--and all of it was too much. Trapping. Suffocating. But it did the job it was meant to do. Still as she was, Ondine’s gaze finally slid to the screen again, attention caught by a flash of a different kind of red.
Dory.
Not the one Ondine thought to win, not the one she thought would be stronger, but no less worthy, no less important. No less deserving to come home.
This time, Ondine really did shove Maalik away with her, with a force that did not seem to match her frame and age. She kept her eyes to the screen, never even trying to raise them to Maalik’s face. Between then she kept her outstretched arms and tight fists, and the glass crunched and sparkled on the floor in a way that was almost harmless. The message was clear. Don’t touch me. Few had the privilege of being allowed to have physical contact with Ondine, and today nobody would have it at all.
It took a few times for Ondine to swallow properly, to get her mouth working again well enough to speak. “Buy her bread. Remind her what she’s fighting for. I don’t give a damn if we have the funds or not.” Her voice was a rough croak until she cleared it, and her expression settled into something cold and steely and most of all determined. “She’s good. She can come home. I won’t be wrong again.”
Maalik stepped back, the message crystal clear but he didn’t regret having done what he had to ground her. I am here. Touching was the way in which he liked to communicate and most of the time with Victors it was one of the worst ways to do so. Folding his arms he patiently waited for Ondine (always, always waiting for her instructions), a faithful student to the end.
Marlin was dead. Yet repeating that statement in his head didn’t help it sink in any further, Maalik didn’t allow it to. Not yet, first Dory, then he could mourn in solitude because Ondine had enough to deal with; Maalik had to support where he could.
Sadness still crept up, blurring his vision for a moment.
Swallow.
Keep swimming.
He pressed his knuckles to his eyes quickly, wiping away the blurriness. He offered a small smile as Ondine had echoed the same thoughts, even if it did not reach his eyes. Marlin was dead - yes send Dory something- anything - fight for her. Show her she has to fight. She can do it (she has to).
Maalik’s smile faded and the sorrow in this moment wasn’t for their fallen tribute. “The odds are never certain. We all make mistakes.”
All Ondine could do, would do, was shake her head at his words. “And some mistakes have heavier prices, and should be careful not to be made,” she said. She still had not looked away from the screen, though she wasn’t really seeing what was happening. “I should know better. Out of anyone, I should know better how to choose.”
She pursed her lips and shook herself. She’d said too much. Now wasn’t the time for her guilt. Now, they needed to focus on Dory. Carefully, she picked her way around Maalik and the glass, giving the former a wide berth, and settled herself gingerly into one of the chairs, just barely perching on the edge of it.