a matching pair of bruises {Ollivander & Olivia}

[Arrow]

Ollivander Russels

    Rain rushes ringing soft songs from the pipes it pelts. Overhead outside the panes of perfect glass grey gilds and guides a silver sky. Within its precise placement in my palms simple scarlet stains a winter white wash cloth taken from a fresh mark placed above my left eye. I neither wreathe or wince from any pain the second time I press the cool water dipped cotton to my split skin. Gently gliding my thumb traces the smooth surface of my bottom lip removing remnants of red from the stream that once ran from above. After several moments and minutes of make up and medicines I minimize the freshly grown scab and pull a simple suit of black color over my shoulders completing my outfit once more. I stop the sink's stream of steaming water and wander from the safe seclusion of the second story's bathroom and into the jungle from which I've recently fled. I make not even a slight sound slipping an umbrella from its place by the door on my way out into the storm.

    The walk from the estate is short and brief soon ending in my body's embrace of endless illuminating lights and swaying shapes of other club goers, I make my way towards the bar. Only a single second after spotting me approaching does the bartender prepare my drink and has it sitting by the side by the time I arrive. I nod with a short smile sliding the bill she's owed into her hand before taking my drink and escaping to the dance floor. Not long after engaging in the endeavor some spirited young jock all to confident in his swagger secures my attention creeping closer and closer to my lips with each song. He almost manages to secure my seduction before the sight of my sister leaves him holding my drink and myself stone faced slipping through the clustered crowd. My fingers wrap tenderly around her arm while I steal her away momentarily from the side of her eternally chosen company of gang members, I ensure my grip comes no where close to the power that the punches that bruise us each holds. I release her arm and soon light a cigarette for myself, I pause before offering one to her without truly meeting her hate heated gaze.  

    "You're being idiotic. You know what will happen if he catches wind of you being here, with them." A stream of smoke spurs from behind my lips. "I suggest you get back home but I'm sure you will choose to do other wise."

[cameo]

Olivia Russels

Nothing. He does absolutely nothing. Just sits there like a pathetic rag doll. Allowing for it all to happen. Nothing.

As for myself however? Ever since double-digits aged me four years back, I’ve never done nothing as Brother has. The moment I realized I could dodge from Father’s aim, coil from Father’s grip, that my fists could attempt at striking skin as Father’s do, I’ve done exactly that. Never again will I do nothing as Brother has. How he can simply stand there and take it is beyond my understanding. Though still the paints of violence sketch across our exteriors all the same. It seems that over the years he receives the brutality less so due to his lack of response - though I don’t suit in his shoes, I couldn’t know such. All I know is that we wear the marks all the same, cover those purple and blue colors to the best of our abilities… and relish in the influential substances that cause our Father to be so harsh.

On most nights I’m fortunate enough to vanish into the depths of alcohol in an opposite establishment from where Brother unwind. Tonight however, no such luck grants me. The sting of pure liquor licks down my throat as I spot him dancing upon the main floor with another of his own gender. Certainly I don’t mind such a decision, though Father isn’t as accepting. It’s also certain that we don’t share facilities quite so well together. Eventually one will confront the other, it’s all about who will do so first that’s the true wonder.

A joke flutters amongst the crew of the gang I’m apart of, though I’m far too distracted by the occupation of my Brother to laugh along with the others. And sure enough, after no more then two minutes of staring, he pulls me to the side with a stern grip - that’s still at least more gentle of a touch then Father ever has.

He still has the decency to offer me a cigarette as he places one between his own lips. Gratefully I take it, light it, while half swallowing and half ignoring his words. “For once you are correct, big Brother.” I sarcastically reply to his request of my leave, and assumption that I won’t. “And I’m pretty sure Father would have the same exact reaction to my friends as he would to yours.” Is stated as I glance over to the male he was just dancing with in a gesture of who I speak of. “But you and I both know he doesn’t drink here. He’s probably already home beating mom anyways.” Insensitivity flutters my lips before I take a long drag of the cigarette he so generously offered. “So why do you really want me gone? Don’t want me judging your preference, or sharing of it? Don’t worry big Brother, I don’t care - nor will I tell.”

[Arrow]

Ollivander Russels

    A sense of regret for ever leaving my previous endeavor emits from the small frown now pursing my lips. Softly smoke fills my lunges as I move from standing by her side to leaning against a nearby wall, another stream of silver slips out from my mouth. As I listen to her typical terrible response to my rational recommendation, my finger flicks heated ash from the glittering glow of my cigarette's end. I watch as it winds through air almost as if flying to the floor, it seems so free, so peaceful. My mind melts away into pictures of our past. Sadistic shouts spur shattering screams while wreathing children crawl for cover from fearsome fists. At first I never understood the harrowing harassment our Father forced upon us, never saw what sins it spelled out in our stolen scarlet. However, it didn't take me long to learn the best way to minimize the shameful suffering, a quiet kid who takes the beastly beatings always walks away less bruised than the revolutionary. That's always where my sister and I differed, its the reason for our dreadful divide. I even look out from the pain of the past and back to the pity of the present and still the division sewn by our selections in surviving stings spitefully within the illumination of her iridescent irises. 

    Behind her head, I watch her gutless gang as they drink and dance with words of Capitol conspiracy constantly clouding their area of the club. A permanent stone within my stomach shifts at the question of how she could allow herself to become engulfed in such revulsion. Again I bring smoke bountifully into my chest embracing its spreading sickness through every inch of my breath. For a while I hold its tempting toxins before releasing again in calm response to her final flying dagger in my direction. More ash angles towards the floor with a second flick as my second hand slithers through the finely figured features of my hair. I look for a moment out over the swaying seas of spirits here escaping reality beside us before deciding on an answer to convey towards her. 

    "Olivia, you know I couldn't care any less about your opinion about any of my preferences. I'm simply stating facts here." I take another swig of smoke, handling my sister always seems to require some kind of substance's support. "And you're right, he probably is home now. And who is it he is always looks for before mom?" I let the question ring for a second in absolute truth before continuing. "One of his escorts is bound to come here looking for us, I normally wouldn't gain anything extra from Father for being here, but if he finds out that I knew you were here..." My eyes lift again towards the group behind her. "And with them no less, both of us would be double due.You really are only asking for things to get worse for each of us by being here."

[cameo]

Olivia Russels

There’s no gratitude from him over my acceptance of his sexual choices. The joys of my Brother and his void of nothingness. With the pause between his sentences, he breathes in the smoke of death that’s produced by these flaming sticks we pitch between our fingers - and all the same, I mirror his actions as many younger siblings do. The fog burns the youth of my lungs, like a baby screaming for mercy simply over a crave for attention - most children don’t understand the terror of a true scream of pain. We do, while it’s solely these memories that we share in common. Now he speaks of me being correct on Father’s location, only to then verbally slap me in the face with the realization of his sarcastic twist. A vision of Father stumbling into the darkness of my room to satisfy his drunken entertainment flashes within my thoughts - yet that’s another thing Brother surely remember all too well to. Why we don’t unite within this traumatic existence is beyond me… oh right, it’s because he simply sits there and takes it. 

To no surprise all that he fears is a further punishment upon himself. Words continue to seep from the core of his fears, warning over the consequences we’d both have over my own actions. Would Father approve of Brother being here, and not myself? Treat us differently due to our age separation and gender difference? It’s probable though we’ve never experienced such before, while it’s also an uncertainty I don’t wish to discover an answer to. Still my eyes roll automatically over Brother’s assumptions - and most importantly his pure concern on a harshness we’ve received plenty of times before. 

“Scared over it getting worse again, big Brother?” I sarcastically ask him, in an innocent tone as if I cared. “What’s going to happen? A few extra punches? A couple more bedtime visits? Another beating?” The cigarette butt clasps between my lips again for another drag of demise. “Stop resisting, you’re pretty good at that already. My friends know all of his employees, and obviously him, they’d get me out of here before he could even know.” My unconcerned words still attempt to comfort him with ease of his disassociation. But all too soon his fears become a reality, as the drunk shouts of our Father echoes from the main room just a hallway away. 

Instantly the eyes of my group snap to me, as multiple hands gesture for me to retrieve to them. Except that would require distance from the seclude corner we’re hidden behind. And even if I did escape to them without Father seeing, would he see Brother & be furious that no one’s home for him to torture? I shake my head at my team. “Let’s go.” I grab his wrist and yank him towards an exit - without permitting any time for him to boast of him being right. If he hadn’t pulled me away from the one’s who could shelter me, I’d be fine. But within Father’s rage, at least one person is destine to suffer.