Reunited at Last

Sneaking through the woods between the districts had been an interesting adventure. Familiar to Seneca only partially, but he knew the way. He knew enough. The middle of the night was a good time for sneaking, although between the soreness through most of his body and leading a sleepy Lucius it had been much more difficult than the young Gamemaker had remembered. It was worth it though. They would be coming to see Atticus, the person he'd grown up with. The only person he'd truly loved. Even Lucius' mother had been more of an image deal than an actual relationship. He'd been scared when he called Atticus there was no doubt about that. And he would have called him again had he the opportunity to do so. Hiding on a freight train through the districts was not the easiest place to keep communication. At least they had found the hoverplane, the impatient pilot pushing them in a hurry into the transport. It wasn't delayed, that was for sure. Seneca had managed to settle a bit more comfortably here. Although between his pain and the motion of flying, both he and Lucius found themselves feeling a bit ill. No matter how many times he had done this, Seneca still cringed at the initial movement and spent most of the trip just trying not to throw up. It seemed Lucius had gotten that from him just as well. 

Somewhere along the way both seemed to have fallen asleep. Nothing in the past week had been good sleep. Even the time on the train with just Lucius had been difficult. Every move, or laying down wrong, caused sharp pain across his whole back. There wasn't a good way to sleep and even now he was jolted awake quite often from shifting positions in his sleep. The landing itself, although smooth, was enough to wake Seneca once more. He looked around, rubbing his tired blue eyes as he processed just where he was now. With the odd dreams that always plagued his sleep in recent years, he had a tendency to check his surroundings when he woke up. Never knew when he could be imprisoned somewhere, or caught in the wrong place. His gaze moved to Lucius and he gave a bit of a sigh in relief. Lucius was there, he was at least safe, the only real danger was the piercing glare from the quite militaristic pilot who had no patience whatsoever. He just wanted them off his hoverplane as soon as possible. Seneca took a deep breath and pushed himself to get up, cringing just as much as the first day. He picked up his bag of things, then gently picked up Lucius. He wanted to cry from the feeling of the lashes on his back, but he wasn't going to wake the boy.

Cade had been well ahead of the two, stopping to find Lucius had been important for Seneca but Cade had made promises. Plans. And the government of District Thirteen was hardly more lenient than the Capitol. In fact he saw in recent times they had become even further controlling and strict. There was no certainty of when Seneca could actually make it and so he had set off on his own. The old avox was patient enough at least, waiting in the hanger with a calm look to his face. He knew Seneca was sure of where Lucius was, and he knew there was no doubt he would have found him. Both were smart enough. The older man looked toward Atticus with a bit of a sigh. He on the other hand seemed stressed. There wasn't a doubt to that. Cade gave a bit of a shrug. "It's nice to see you again too. They will be fine." He assured him in sign, watching closely. "They are smart and good at sneaking around the place. They will be here, and you know these planes are rarely exactly on time." The avox reminded him, but gave an encouraging smile. It grew slightly as the door opened as if on queue. "And here they are."

Seneca came quietly out the opened door of the hoverplane, carrying the sleeping Lucius who he didn't dare wake up. Not yet anyways. There was a look to his face, not of joy and not of sadness either, rather fighting hard not to show how he was feeling physically. Between the scar across his cheek and down his neck, and the slight bruising over his eye where the peacekeeper had initially punched him, he couldn't really hide it. The man looked between Cade and Atticus quietly, until Cade came over and with what strength he had took young Lucius to relieve Seneca of carrying the child. Sene looked down for a second, closing his eyes before he finally pushed himself through how he felt to make eye contact with Atticus. He didn't speak right away. Having been separate for a year now it should have been easy to have something to say. For a man of Seneca's personality he should have said a lot. But there were no words really. Nothing came.

Instead the man walked up to Atticus, and despite every bit of pain and soreness threw his arms around his old friend and lover. He closed his eyes, laying his head against his shoulder for a second. He needed the comfort too, he needed someone there.

"A year is far too long." Seneca said with a relieved sigh. He looked up again though, giving somewhat of a smile to Atticus. He was a mess really, his hair untouched, even the beard had been left for a few days and he didn't have his normal put together look. He looked a bit younger and less mature than usual but that was okay here. His smile was as genuine as could be and he just searched for something to say in his still waking up mind. "Well... I found him. And we made it... and uh... I'm not going to get you into any trouble am I? I don't want to cause trouble. There's been far too much trouble lately..." He quickly stepped back from the hug though, concerned as he remembered the more military attitude of this place. Almost running and hugging Atticus might not be acceptable, and considering the punishment he'd received only days before he didn't feel like anything else. He gave a nervous look to Atticus and subconsciously turning his head a bit to hide the bruise on his eye. It was no use, but he could try. There was no hiding how he was nearly in tears over everything in the last couple of months. So much in his life had changed and he didn't know what to do. He could hold his composure in the Capitol, but with Atticus who he trusted with everything, he just let that image disappear. There was nobody here to impress today.

Seneca did momentarily enjoy the hug. He didn't want to let go except for the wave of paranoia that had rushed over him. He closed his eyes, enjoying the fact that he could actually touch Atticus now. He didn't get that much anymore. Cade was nice to hug sometimes, but he wasn't his Atticus. He wasn't his best friend. His love. He looked up quietly, shaking his head. "How Atticus? How could we fix that? The Capitol will get suspicious if I disappear more often. They might already be." There was worry, fear, in his voice. He was typically quite confident. Even here. But he couldn't stay. Not yet. "And you know I can't stay for good. I'd be useless to everyone here. I'm only good for information and you know that." There was a sad whine to his voice at that, but he simply gave a nod. He would tell the whole story later. When they could sit down together and not be interrupted or surrounded by everyone. He cringed slightly at any touch but he got over it quickly. This was Atticus, he wouldn't hurt him.

But he still froze when Atticus grabbed his arms. He stared at his old friend right in the eyes, still near tears and shaking his head. "I.. I don't know. I I just remembered something about this place being strict and I didn't want to get you in trouble. There's been too much trouble and it's all just suck a mess!" Seneca shook his head and looked around them. The man had woken up from a horrible dream already, and the days past, everything was danger really. But he stopped talking, stopped moving, and looked at Atticus in silence for at least a moment. He couldn't argue with that face, that comforting tone to his voice. He couldn't not believe it. He took a breath and nodded a bit, though he couldn't help the single tear that started down his dirty cheek. He looked down, quiet, a bit ashamed even that he had panicked. "I know. I'm not Upset or embarrassed about us. I'm not I promise you." He added, but quickly stopped and returned his gaze to Atticus' face instead of the ground.

There was a visible cringe, and for a moment he pulled away from Atticus' touch. Not in true pain but in anticipation of it. A couple more tears joined the first as he tried to think of how to explain it to him. How to explain to the person who cared about him most what he had been up to in the last few days. Taking a shaky breath the Gamemaker looked down and away from the sad look. "It was a Peacekeeper... In Eleven. That's where Lucius went. It wasn't a big deal but... there was this little girl being beaten and Lucius and this other little girl and the Peacekeeper was going to hit Luc. I-" He stopped abruptly and startled back away from Atticus momentarily when he snapped. Staring wide eyed, the man shook his head at Atticus. There was a slight fear at that, he didn't need more violence. Not now. He looked down once more. "Atti please. Please promise me you won't do anything stupid. Please. I did it to myself. I interrupted a Peacekeeper. I interfered. He just punched me... and a couple lashes... and maybe one kick. But it's not worth maybe losing you." He grabbed Atticus' arms this time, a pleading look to his tear filled eyes as he looked back to him. He couldn't stand the idea of losing Atticus. He would have done the same for his friend, just as he had Lucius. He'd give his life for this man, he wasn't going to let him even think about going out there and endangering himself too.

"I'm sure it will heal and... you'd be more useful here." Seneca whispered, leaning on him once again to hug him. "I need my Atti. Someone has to take care of it, and you can't do that if you're running all over Panem trying to find that Peacekeeper. I'll let you look, and help fix it up, but please promise you won't go anywhere." He leaned close, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek though. "But you still think my face is beautiful? Even after this and being dirty?" He asked in the most innocent of whispers. He wasn't going to reveal that the wounds were actually worse and that most were covered by clothing. He'd see soon enough. Seneca closed his eyes. "You'd be proud. I actually spoke up. It got me beat but I saved her life. And I think you'd be proud that I got myself out of real danger. Took a little money but, I paid off a Peacekeeper. That's a first for me." He tried to be slightly positive. Although still upset, and a bit shaken from the whole thing, he wanted to calm Atticus. He wanted him to settle, he wanted to see that smile. He needed that smile, for his own sanity.

Seneca looked up quickly, frowning a bit at the stern tone. "I know, I know. I just... what can I do that is actually helpful? I sure can't fight or help with military strategy and I really..." He sighed, looking back down once more. His uses had all been related to his position as head Gamemaker, rather than anything he could do on his own here. He took a breath but nodded just to make Atticus feel better. He leaned his head against him once more, shaking his head. "When I'm done in the Capitol I'll come running to you. I want you, no matter where I have to live to do that. You don't have to worry about that part." He assured him, though his voice was quiet when he did. He was leaned on him, closing his eyes and taking in the feeling of comfort being close brought. He wished that didn't have to end, he put on a brave face and a confident look in the Capitol but he could be just as cuddly as Lucius. Especially when hurting. All he wanted was some real love and hugs. The man lifted his gaze to look toward Cade and Lucius as well. "He would rather be here, you know that." He said quietly.

His gaze lifted to his face and Seneca gave a bit of a nod. "Okay. As long as you say so Atti... I trust you." Seneca whispered and watched him. He did trust Atticus, but having been beat up was a new thing for him. He was used to being the favorite. The one who was loved by those in physical proximity to him. He didn't have anything to fear in the Capitol for physical harm. He was sure even Snow would make his execution fast. He could hope so anyways. But his nightmares recently had put that execution as either drawn out torture, or being forced into the Hunger Games himself. He didn't want to think about that. It made his job harder to handle, even with the justification of rebel ties. Even then in these Pre-Games times he was sick with himself. Knowing that even as a rebel, during the Games he could get carried away. Truly enjoying himself... There was a guilt he couldn't shake. He could enjoy the Games, if nobody had to die in them. There could be a Games with no real death... right? It was the lingering child maybe to think so, but he could cling to some justification for his enjoyment of the job. He looked to Atticus again and nodded, giving him a gentle kiss. "I would hope they wouldn't have a problem with it. It was in the deal about me working with them." He commented. He wouldn't have come to help if they were to tell him that it meant he would have to hide his care for Atticus. If he couldn't love his family then neither place was worth siding with.

Quickly he looked back to the ground, shaking his head. He didn't know what to say at first, biting his lip and rubbing his arm as he tried to form the rest of the story. To answer him, but calm him down. Both would be hard tasks on their own for the tired and hurting Gamemaker but together was a scary thing. "A Peacekeeper yeah... Peacekeepers are vile creatures Atticus, more so than I thought." He said, his voice quiet and his words careful. If he forced himself to calm down then maybe his friend would come down with him. His icy gaze searched Atticus' face as he thought very carefully. "I would like to say that I don't belong to Snow but... yes... beating up his precious Head Gamemaker would be on the unacceptable list. If Snow new about it. But... he didn't know who I was. I was in Eleven, my face was mostly covered and he was in the middle of something. He just lashed out. He stopped as soon as he saw my face though... Well he at least hesitated. But there isn't danger for him, I can't tell Snow. Snow would kill me for being there." He gave a very worried look, a fearful look, at even the mention of Snow's name. The man was a threat no matter where Seneca was, as long as he lived he would be a scary thought.

The man gave a bit of a nod though at the rest of the repeated story. "A little girl. Lucius' friend's cousin. Her family was ill. On hard times. They all are starving but this family was even more desperate. Nobody in that place looked like they ate much and the girl well... she was thin and fragile and he was just going at her. Like... All she did was take some food for her family. So they could eat. And it became a public beating. And everyone just watched. They stood there like it was- it was normal." He hesitated for a second on the phrase but nodded when he figured it was true. "Everyone was I don't know too scared to step in. They'd just accepted it. There was just this dead feeling to the whole place. The district looked nothing like the pictures we see from the Capitol. The people are... missing a lot. Lucius said even the children really didn't act like children. They worked and worked for almost nothing." He looked to Atticus and held onto his arms. He'd been thinking so much about the whole thing, from the pain to the faces of the crowds. It was so weird, so scary. It lingered in his mind for sure. "There was a hollowness to it, the place was creepy to be honest. I don't blame people for not stepping up. I didn't want to either. Fear of the pain it would cause, knowing it would hardly make a difference. But... when they left it was different."

Seneca gave him another nod about Luc. But he watched his long time friend with the saddest look to his eyes, just begging him not to go on about going after the Peacekeeper. He didn't want to hear it. He did't want to think about it. "Luc stepped into the mess. Guess it takes a child to get things started. Apparently they don't like being interrupted, and they don't have standards. But yes, he did all of that. And he didn't apologize even when he knew it was me. I don't know if he would have continued had I not paid him off." He took a deep breath as he relaxed his grip on his friend's arms. He was thankful that Atticus also did, and for the apology, even if he didn't exactly believe he was sorry for feeling angry. Seneca himself just hadn't reached the anger stage just yet. He was still in the scared pain. Soon he would get that anger back from the initial anger after the beating.

"Everyone walked away differently... I think maybe we all started something..." Seneca commented but left off there. He didn't know how to describe the feeling in the air of District Eleven after the lashing had ended. It was eerie, but there was something else. He wasn't sure if they had seen who he was as well as the Peacekeeper, maybe some had, but his actions said much more than the title of Head Gamemaker ever would. "Thank you for calming down. I like calm, I need something calm. There's been far too much anger recently." He whispered. Since Snow's massacre of a large portion of his team after the 73rd Games, things had been tense everywhere he looked. More so than before. He expected the anger from Snow, but hadn't expected it from the Peacekeepers just yet. That day would come where he ran for his life. It wasn't yet. But the last thing he wanted was to even hear the anger in Atticus. Even in defense of him. It was just the same in this moment as being yelled at.

Closing his eyes tightly Seneca did stand still as Atticus asked. He trusted his lover no doubt but there was that instinctive flinch at the touch. Even so gentle he did. But after the initial flinching he opened his eyes again to sadly watch Atticus. He believed him. That didn't change that Seneca didn't want scars on his face. He didn't like to see himself a mess and bruised. He knew Atticus didn't either. Still he would hardly call his current state beautiful. "I hope this doesn't scar. You may always think my face is fine but..." He stopped and wrapped his arms around Atticus, closing his eyes this time in a moment of relaxation. Something he hadn't really had for a bit. He gave him a gentle kiss in return and wished they could just be close for longer, but Atticus was right. They should get to their own space. Not everyone needed to hear what happened either. He gave a nod and took Atticus' hand tightly in his before he glanced toward Cade and gave a bit of a smile. The old avox nodded to them and followed. At his own slower pace carrying Lucius, but following no less. He knew where he was going.

"There's a lot more. That I haven't looked at and I don't know how bad it is. I just know it hurts to move. In any way." The man said, desperate to get something to make any part of it feel better. He didn't want to hurt any time he was touched. He had gone through that with Lucius and it was horrible to see him feel that way after those kids had beat him up. Seneca looked over toward him as he walked, keeping a bit of a normal pace still at least, giving the smallest of smiles. "I rebelled. Straight out, consciously did it. If Snow had seen it would have been a real smack in his face. I'm more of a background type person I don't do this physical stuff. I still don't want to do it again." He glanced around the hall at the few faces around but then quickly have to Atticus once more. "That girl should be safe. For now, but there wasn't a way I could protect her for good. And I couldn't even stick around to meet her. She was so hurt she was unconscious. But I'd do it again. I don't regret it. The pain hurts like hell but..." Seneca took a breath and glanced back toward Cade and Lucius again and sighed. "She was worth it. Any of them would have been." He concluded even for himself. He really hadn't thought too hard about if he would. Only about how angry he was at the Peacekeeper for doing it to him. Now so much went through his mind. And worst of all, that he could be seeing either Rue or her cousin in the Games some day. That realization wasn't one he hoped for here.

At least there was a distraction. Any other time the slowness of such a realization from Atticus would have made him laugh. It took him that long to realize that Lucius being in Eleven wasn't a normal thing? But Seneca wasn't much for a laughing mood right now. And it wasn't really a laughing matter. Seneca simply gave a bit of a nod. "He snuck away on one of the victor's trains. The guy from Eleven, after their second tribute died in the Games. He managed to sneak out of the Capitol under a table. He's shaping up to fit into this stuff on his own. But apparently he wanted to go see Rue. He met her at Snow's huge get everyone together party. Convince the kids of the districts that the Capitol is great and all that stuff he does. They got along and really Atti... I wish so much she lived in the Capitol. You should have seen them together. They were such good friends. And he spent a few days with her. But he's safe here. Rue isn't hurt... I think they both got through it all okay enough. but I just hope that sweet little girl stays out of the mess that might be coming..."

Seneca nodded slightly. He wanted to believe and trust Atticus that he was useful. He wanted to feel useful. But there were doubts that people like Coin and the other higher members of the rebellion actually saw his use anywhere. Beyond his closeness with Snow. And there was a feeling that he was constantly doubted, rather than trusted. It wasn't a good feeling for the young Gamemaker and he really didn't like it. But if he did have a choice he would be staying with Atticus. their little family would be together again. Really if it was his choice he would have the whole family safely in the Capitol. There wouldn't need to be a rebellion to start with. That was a bit far for him at this point. He couldn't do that, he couldn't even move the family out here. He was supposed to stick around the Capitol until there was no other option, or until the rebellion had a set plan and he wasn't needed there anymore. That time had not come yet. He took a deep breath and nodded some. "But I'm one of his minions too. And I have a little more control. Everyone sees my face." He said quietly, looking down. "I know. They are angry and he... He was horrible even for that. I don't know what I was expecting." He whispered and looked down, closing his eyes tightly. He could only wish that Snow never heard. Never figured it out.

He lifted his blue gaze with his frown remaining, shaking his head. "I... I knew things were bad. Just not how bad they were. I wish I could say it was just Eleven and just that day." He whispered and reached, taking Atticus' hand quietly. He thought a bit, but he couldn't justify his ignorance really. "Well, the people in the Capitol you know them... Either don't want to know, or too drunk to notice. Even during the reaping I don't even really notice how miserable they must be... Just.. we are blind to it. And they live with no hope and these looks like..." He took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "I've hated Snow, quite a bit, for years. He's overbearing and intimidating and... All of those things. That man, if you could call him a man, needs to die. Horribly." He snarled, the anger coming up again, he didn't have to worry about upsetting Lucius here. "If it were up to me, I'd put him in those damn games with the worst we've ever created and just watch him suffer. Him and his disgusting blood breath and his I'm better than you attitude. He feels so invincible I'd love to see him cowering in some arena." He stopped himself, looking away for a moment to compose himself. He looked back to Atticus, sticking close to him and shaking his head. "And I'm a part of the things that bring their hope down... prevent it... And I can't change that. Not entirely." There was a hopeless feeling to that. No matter what he wanted, he couldn't give them back the hope he had destroyed with the Games even in the past couple of years. What could he do to help give it back? Not much now. But maybe he had a little bit.

"I know. I know. He was happy to take my money, luckily it will keep him from telling Snow, I was at his mercy and I got lucky. It hurt like heck though... and I'm not sure who all saw my face... Lucius scares me but he's good. And he's something amazing I don't know how he managed to get that. That rebellious streak, but I think we did something." He looked up with the hint of a proud smile. Just a small bit. "I don't know who saw me, or if it matters if they know who I was.. but there was some unity among them walking away and. Maybe that little spark could help. Maybe that's just enough hope to get something going. In our favor here. For them. I can hope we sparked a little hope, and maybe somehow we can keep that going. Snow can't notice every little thing I have in the Games, can he?" He gave an unsure look as he walked with Atticus. The Games were his place, where he could show something to everyone in Panem. Snow was observant, but he couldn't see it all. That would take some thought, but the little things could help. "I guess that little bit of hope might be worth more than any money could be. And people with something to look forward to will do a whole lot more to get it than the hopeless." He added quietly. It made sense with tributes, why not these people too?

Seneca stopped outside the infirmary with Atticus, holding his hand tightly and looking for a moment longer. He shook his head. "I'm not sure I want to magically get rid of it with some cream." He commented, rolling his eyes a bit at him. It took him a moment to get it, but he finally did realize the joking manner that Atticus spoke in. "I won't be the bald one, or chubby. You know that, don't even lie to yourself." He teased back, smacking Atticus on the arm for the comment. Though quickly he stopped away to avoid being smacked in return. He knew Atticus wouldn't hurt him, but their general nudging each other around and playful hitting would hurt with how bad he felt injured. He gave a slight nod, waiting outside for him to return. He avoided anyone's gaze, not wanting to talk to anyone else. He was still shaken and trust was limited at the moment. lifting his gaze Seneca gave his smile again and walked once more. He just wanted to get to their own private place. And hopefully the stuff that Atticus had collected here would help the pain as well. Seneca shook his head at his friend though. "I did the right thing, but one thing doesn't feel like enough to make up for what all I have done to hurt them." He added quietly and looked back down. He didn't trust himself.

"Oh right. Coin, I'm sure he doesn't want to meet her any more than he wants to meet Snow. I really don't know if I want to meet her again. I don't think she much likes me." Seneca commented and looked down once more, though was happy to come into the compartment with Atticus. He looked around, his slight smile returning as he saw all of the little things he had brought for them from the Capitol over his visits. He missed it, even if it was small. It was close, it was personal, it was more of a home than the almost empty feeling and cold Capitol apartment they lived in. "But he's good at it. He scared me this time but it turned out alright. He was just... pushing me toward this more than I had been. To see this horrible world I've only half understood. And he went to see his little friend... and I'm glad she was from Eleven but... I hadn't thought of it being a crush. No I didn't tell him about it. You know how much he misses you two though. How much I miss you. I don't know the words to explain it..." He breathed in shakily before moving into the bedroom with him. The concept of taking his shirts off already brought the pain back up.

Seneca cringed, but stiffly pulled his shirt off of himself. The movement itself brought sharp pain and he cringed as he sat down, his grip tight on his now crumpled shirt. The man let out a bit of a whimper and shook his head, closing his eyes. He wouldn't be surprised if some sort of infection might have started, he hadn't touched it at all or even looked. It had been a couple days. He could just hope that whatever Atticus had would help the pain too, not just clean it up. Later they could worry about cleaning up his face and hair. But for now he just buried his face in a pillow on the bed, closing his eyes tightly. "Just... I want it to stop hurting." He whispered, looking up as another tear fell. He hadn't been thinking about it for a few minutes and that made it all the worse now.

"That man deserves to suffer. He needs to know how it feels to have your life in someone else's hands, to know one wrong move and you'll be killed by the person you worked so hard to please for years!" Seneca would have continued. He was going to, but it seemed now they had switched roles. It was Atticus begging him to calm down this time. The squeeze of his hand, the look on Atticus' face, it was enough to stop him for the moment. He was angry, and Seneca didn't get angry often. And it rarely lasted. He'd half expected Atticus to join in his anger, but when he didn't the man simply gave up. He closed his eyes and gave a shake of his head, instead of talking more he leaned against Atticus. Squeezing his friend's hand tightly, Seneca took a deep breath as he tried to compose himself. "How Atti? I just don't know how else to do it..." He said quietly. His normal calm and collected demeanor came from holding it all in and acting. He didn't know how to release that productively.

Guilt was something he didn't know how to avoid. Or act his way through too easily. He killed children. He killed peoples' children and family. Brothers and sisters. He couldn't help the guilt and the moments of hating himself just as bad as Snow. He couldn't imagine if someone had taken Lucius and done what he did. Seneca just looked down at that, trying to compose some sort of argument or way to defend how he felt. "How can I help anyone, really? How can I change and not repeat? In a couple weeks I'll be killing their children. That's not giving them anything... I can try to sneak things in here and there but other than that..." He lifted his sad blue gaze to Atticus as I'd the other man would have the answer for him that he needed. That he always had the answer. That Atticus was the smarter one. The stronger one. The brave one. As a child he'd always looked up to his friend as the confident and brave person he always wished he could be. That he admired and clung to so tightly. As an adult he could only wish that the answers and the end of the problems was so simple like it has been in their younger years. But the problems today were so much more. So much more at risk.

Quietly he looked back up though, squeezing Atticus' hands just that much tighter. "We learned from someone very brave." He said, watching his face carefully. "Someone very strong." He added. There was a bit of a smile that crept onto his face and the young man tried to hide it but he was proud. There wasn't any denying that. He had finally managed to do something that hadn't hurt the innocent people, but helped even a tiny bit. He leaned to hug him tightly, listening to his friend at the same time. He looked up with a bit of a determination to his face. "Then let's start ourselves a forest fire. Then maybe they can't ignore it. Even money can't hide away flames. And if that little spark doesn't catch then I guess I didn't do my job well enough." He added quietly, though let go of Atticus so that he could go into the room.

Seneca wanted to smile, wanted to joke about Atticus' aging or lack of. But so many other things clouded his mind that some teasing comments just didn't come to mind. Nor could he think of a way to further argue his guilt. Or admit that Atticus was right after all. "I just hope somewhere the future is brighter. Especially for poor Luc and Lia... They deserve much better to live around a building war." He whispered as he followed. At least the children didn't have to see too much of him feeling absolutely miserable. "She intimidates me. Almost as bad as someone else..." Sene admitted with a bit of a frown. He wouldn't dare force his innocent little boy to deal with that feeling with anyone else. That fear and worry. "He's smart, and be understands things so different than me, but he's not ready for that. Living to try and please Snow is enough stress. And Lucius isn't ready to grow up yet. Not in most ways." He whispered at that. He wasn't meaning to compare them out loud, but he wasn't correcting himself either. "I don't know how they do it but I wish they could share. I could use a little bit of that and the creative thinking, to pull some things off." He whispered, though he wasn't sure exactly how much Lucius could figure out that he couldn't. One thing he knew that the boy wouldn't entirely know though, was how Atticus felt so far from them. He was sure Lucius got a taste of it, but it wasn't years at a time. "I know you miss us... And soon we will be here and nothing can change that. Soon enough anyways."

"It has to hurt worse?" Seneca looked to him with a bit of a worried whine to his voice. "It hurts bad already... And its been days." He whispered, but cringed as he moved a bit though. If it had been anyone else he wouldn't have had even the little bit of tolerance he had now. Closing his eyes tightly as he laid on the bed, he braced himself for the horrible feeling that was bound to come. He guessed a bit of a burning and sharp stinging feeling, and for once he hadn't wanted to end up right. "Please be gentle." He whispered, but closed his eyes tightly and bit his lip at the first touch. He shook his head. "Oww..." He whined and looked up, a sad and helpless look to his face as he looked to Atticus. "I don't so pain well..." He whispered quite pathetically.