Remains ‖ Illias

"Illias Cyr Delos is sentenced to ten years in the new prison of Panem. At the end of his sentence, his case will be reviewed for a permanent living situation." Those words were just another blow to an already defeated Illias. Everything had already been lost to him - everything, mostly, in his brother. Half of him had died with Eryx that day, the day the rebels took over the Capitol and changed everything. The night before, Eryx had been so sure that this is what the country needed, that somehow the rebels would make everything better, but all they had done was take Eryx out of this world and leave Illias behind. It didn't seem to matter much that now the haphazard, temporary government of the nation was sentencing him to doing time for his crimes.

His crimes. They called him murderer, sadist, evil. Not always in those words, but the new governing body of Panem looked at him with disgust. Not all Gamemakers or technicians or others involved in the Games were treated this way. Ambrosia and a handful of others were shown mercy for their efforts in the rebel cause. Some were pitied, spared from ridicule or harsh punishments by the tragedies of their own lives. But Illias, he had been good at what he did. He'd worked for years to be a Gamemaker, and the arena was his artistic outlet. He hadn't been plagued by grief until he slowly wasted away, like apparently Triumph Gilmet had. He hadn't been forced into it like Mesina Blake claimed she had. No, he'd prospered and he'd loved his life. He'd accepted the losses of the arena as part of the greater good for the nation, and until the night before the rebel attacks, hadn't had reason to think any different.

Perhaps he could have begged for mercy, but Illias simply accepted the punishment given to him. He doubted those ten years would even be the end of it, expected them to torture him in prison or simply leave him there to rot. It didn't matter, not with Eryx gone. Not with Ambrosia not speaking to him, still. Not when the best thing he could do for Aurora was stay away to keep her safe from his reputation and ridicule. And so, he went and resigned himself to fate.

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Words. Illias had never understood their true power until he'd spent every day inside a small cell shared with a man named Zink. Zink was, for all intents and purposes, a man who communicated mostly in a series of grunts and scowls. Illias never did find out what his crime was, but in a way, he was grateful to the man - because Illias had little to do but write. He was not an incredibly good writer, his penmanship was initially practically illegible, and he didn't always get paper and pencil, but he wrote whenever he could. He wrote to Ambrosia and Aurora, mostly. He put pieces of himself onto the page and sent them off, hoping for something in return.

It had already been six months before he could get the motivation up to write, and several months passed after that with no reply. But then, the responses came - and words. The power of something as simple as words on a written page to move his heart was previously unimaginable. And it was the only thing that got Illias through.

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After seven years, Illias was released from prison on good behaviour. While he expected to be shipped off to the most remote part of District 12, he was instead allowed to chose where he lived and was even given a small amount of money to get himself started. All of his previous money had been taken - since back then, they'd attributed any wealth he had to spoils from killing children.

He didn't want to go back to the Capitol. Panem had surely changed while he'd been locked away, and he would no longer have a place there. He wasn't sure he'd really find a place anywhere, but he chose to move to the one place where the rest of his family was - District 4. Ambrosia had made a life for herself there, and perhaps so could he.

Today was a hard day. It was every year, whether he was in prison or out in the free world. While the nation celebrated their independence from the dictatorship that was headed by President Snow, Illias mourned the loss of his other half, of his twin. The pain of Eryx's death had dimmed over the years, but it would never leave. Illias had thought he would never feel whole again with his twin gone from this world, and while there were still times when he felt that way, he'd pieced himself back together some. He had a life now, a life so different from the one he'd led before. He had family, love, and a community. It wasn't perfect, but it was something.

Illias walked up the now familiar path to see Ambrosia and the kids, and it felt so strongly like coming home. He hadn't truly understood home before he'd come out here to District 4, before he'd been in prison and realized just how disconnected from his home he truly was. Home for him before had been people, yes, but finally the place was home too. Here, he wouldn't be forced to do anything he didn't want to, wouldn't fear losing his head or pleasing some big, disconnected president. His work no longer meant death for others and his family no longer had those divisions that the rebellion ten years ago had clearly shown they had.

"Uncle Illy!" a tiny voice called out , following by the sound of running feet through the grasses. With a huge, full smile on his face, Illias bent down to catch the little boy, lifting him up into his arms. Eryx hugged his neck as Illias continued on to the house, relishing the familiar feel of the child's weight in his arms. This Eryx was so vastly different than Illias' twin had been in appearance and even temperament, but there was something in him that still screamed of his namesake. The heart, probably, just like Saraph had. Ambrosia could have been just as responsible for this trait, especially since there was no Delos blood in Eryx, but Illias was still convinced of his brother's influence.

The pair followed the sound of crying baby, which stopped seemingly just as Illias entered the room. "Ah, I still have that effect on the ladies, don't I?" he greeted with his traditional half-smirk before giving his sister a kiss on the cheek.

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WC: 1110
Tag: Ambrosia Delos