Chapter Text
Upon hearing the soft knock Clerk Carmine had been expecting, he moved to open the door.
Prim Rose stood at the other side, already trying to contain a smile, trusty fiddle in hand, “I think I have the scale down!” She proudly exclaimed.
He chuckled lightly, stepping to the side so she could come inside for her fifth fiddle lesson, “That so?”
“Well- I think so.”
“None of that. You must be able to trust your own judgement when it comes to your skill. You have to know well what you are or are not capable of.” He told her as they made the small trek to the back porch, going to sit down, Clerk Carmine carefully placing the case of his own fiddle in his lap, going to open it.
“Well in that case… I absolutely have the scale down.” She said, not boastful but quietly sure as she placed her fiddle on her shoulder, going to play it, eyebrows scrunching up in concentration.
Clerk Carmine just listened for a moment before turning to her, observing her.
He must’ve been more wistful than he’d realized, Prim Rose tilting her head as she finished the scale and set the fiddle down, “Is something wrong?”
“No little one. It’s just… you remind me a lot of an old friend. That's all.”
He could almost see her in his mind’s eye. Maude Ivory had never been a great lover of the fiddle, but she had played it on occasion, and that way of lighting up when she got something right…
Prim Rose hesitated, pressing her lips together for a moment, “What were they like?”
Clerk Carmine considered that, looking down at his fiddle, sighing, “She was… she was brilliant. As free as one could be in this place… a true songbird.”
“A true songbird…” she repeated quietly to herself.
Clerk Carmine could see the curiosity in her eyes.
He cleared his throat, “But enough of that, let me hear the solo now.”
Prim Rose quickly went to place her fiddle against her shoulder.
Clerk Carmine tried not to let his ghosts blind him to the young girl before him.
He couldn’t be entirely sure why he’d offered to teach her.
He knew it could be dangerous.
And yet… he’d recognized the look in the kid’s eyes when looking at his fiddle.
The quiet awe but even beyond that… a certain hunger.
So he’d offered before he could even fully think of it. The fact that the kid reminded him of Maude Ivory didn’t hurt.
And the way she drank in the lessons and was very clearly dedicated to it…
That was everything.
***
Prim Rose was pacing about the place, clearly at the verge of panic.
Clerk Carmine said nothing as he made tea, he knew they needed to get going in twenty minutes if they were to make it to the Hob on time.
“I’m going to practice it one more time-”
“Prim Rose.” He shook his head, “You know it. You have let it sink into your bones. You know the songs, you don’t need to keep practicing, all you’ll do is work yourself into a frenzy.”
It was her thirteenth birthday, and the day of her big debut on stage.
Prim Rose groaned, letting her head fall back, “I shouldn’t have insisted!”
Clerk Carmine handed her a cup of tea, going to sit down, “If you change your mind, you know your sister will let you… but I do not think you should. You are dedicated, and you’ve picked up the strings well.”
Prim Rose hesitated, going to sit down across from him, hesitating twice before speaking, “You… you used to do this didn’t you? I mean- with others… this…” She looked at the book on the table, the journal Clerk Carmine had gifted her, full of songs and music sheets, “…this is a family heirloom.”
She met his gaze, not harsh but unwavering.
He watched her, “…we are not related Prim Rose.”
She looked down, her disappointment only lightly detectable.
“But I once shared a stage with your grandmother… and her cousin, your great aunt… she was my dearest friend, the one you remind me of.”
Prim Rose’s eyes widened, “Were you… a band?”
“More than that… we were… we were each other’s people… Covey… we were Covey. Musicians by trade.”
“That’s what Haymitch told my sister.”
He hummed, sighing deeply, “A lot of the songs in that book were written by your great aunts… your grandmother wrote less but… there are still plenty of hers.”
“And yours?”
He chuckled weakly, “I wasn’t very fond of the pen… but there’s one or two of mine.”
“…can I tell my sister about this?”
Clerk Carmine considered her, “I think it’d be best if she hears it from me… something tells me she’ll be asking soon enough.”
Prim Rose nodded along, pulling the book into her lap, tracing the cover, “I… what… what happened?”
“…bad men Prim Rose… bad men. I do not mean to frighten you but… back then… we were seen as outsiders… you see… the Covey, were travelers. We weren’t really Twelve, but we got rounded up and left here… back then… people were frightened, war times were still fresh… and we were… we didn’t quite fit in. When things went wrong… sometimes people wished to blame it on us… on one of us in particular. And later on… the wrong person was trusted…”
Prim Rose took it in, eyes wide and fragile.
“We were seen as outsiders… as… trouble makers. But you and your sister? You have the chance to be… to be hope. To do what Coveys did for generations, give a reprieve of the weight of life. We were always meant to be reminders of the more… romantic side of life. Language, connection, beauty, romance, love… those were the pillars of the Covey once. The other side of the coin? We spoke truth, we were seen as trouble makers because sometimes your great aunts made songs that forced people to think, that questioned the way the world is. And I think you two have a shot at bringing that back to life… be it… in a cautious way.”
Clerk Carmine took a deep breath, thinking back to watching the girls on stage.
They’d been so young when music had been all but outlawed, when their repertoires had begun to be restricted.
When their voices had been all but stolen from them.
“Many may turn a blind eye or think little of art, of music. After all no song can kill, no melody can feed, no scale can provide material things. But no matter what anyone says… songs can change one’s point of view, songs and words can change the world if you know how to use them. Art is the crux of humanity, the rawest form of expression, not just for romance but for anger and indignity, any emotion can be amplified to its truest form through art. That is what makes it dangerous. That is why the Capitol would rather everyone think it worthless. Music can be a hearth, it can be the candle a child lights in the middle of the night, it can be a forest fire, it can be an explosion… remember that Prim Rose… remember that.”
Less than an hour later, Clerk Carmine watched as Prim Rose entered the stage, playing the fiddle beautifully, the slight scrunch in her eyebrows and the clear concentration on her face made him feel like he’d been thrown back in time, watching Barb Azure practicing a new song.
And wasn’t that quite something.
***
Clementine Mauve.
The name had nearly ripped something within him.
Clementine… how often had he heard that song be sung?
Mauve… but a letter departed from Maude.
And Willow Swan.
A lullaby and a bird.
Lucy Gray would’ve loved that.
He could not say what his reaction upon hearing the names had been, he’d all but blacked out as Prim Rose explained how they wanted to use them, had asked what he thought.
He was only half sure he’d somehow managed to tell her that it’d be best to only use them when on stage.
The Coveys were coming back…
Clerk Carmine felt un-alone for the first time in… in over fifteen years.
***
Willow Swan had a cough.
She stepped back from the mic, hiding her face against her elbow.
The tonics and teas had not been enough to keep her voice from cracking fifteen minutes away from the end.
The Hob fell into partial silence as Willow Swan raised a hand to ask for a moment before slinking backstage, Clementine Mauve quick to follow.
Clerk Carmine, on a chair close to the stage, got up, unable to help being worried.
Logically, he knew Willow Swan’s cough had been the kind to come from a particularly bad flu.
Not the kind one got from being poisoned.
And yet-
His heart only calmed down slightly as he reached behind the tarp, seeing Willow Swan drinking some water.
“Everything alright?”
Willow Swan grimaced, “I don’t think I can sing anymore.”
She glanced to Clementine Mauve, who winced, “Uhh… I could do Keep on the Sunny Side? Just to wrap up the show?”
Willow Swan started coughing again, her mother had been preparing some kind of concoction, handing it over, “I don’t think- I don’t think I can be on the guitar- maybe the drum but…” she shook her head.
Clementine Mauve turned to him, “Could you play with us? I know a few chords on the guitar, should be enough to close out the show… though well- I’m not used to leading a song.”
Clerk Carmine just watched her for a long moment.
It’d been decades since he’d been on a proper stage.
But it was clear the girls didn’t want to cut the show short mid-song. It was also clear Willow Swan couldn’t sing and Clementine Mauve was nervous to do so, still not used to it.
And…
Clerk Carmine looked down at the floor.
He’d never been much of a singer and yet…
He looked at Clementine Mauve, “Remember the song I showed you? The one about brothers?”
Her face lit up, “Yes.”
“…think you could help me sing it?”
She smiled big.
In truth, the song had never been performed.
Not truly.
Clerk Carmine had written it over the course of several years, as his feelings and comprehension changed, as he looked at things from a different point of view. As he attempted to forgive his greatest ghost.
He still wasn’t sure that he’d fully forgiven.
After all, it’d been that ghost that set in motion the set of dominoes that had led to the demise of the Covey.
But maybe it was always going to happen.
He’d found himself singing it to Clementine Mauve during one of their lessons, after she’d begged and pleaded he show her a song he’d written.
He wasn’t quite sure why he’d agreed to it.
Why he’d played that song in particular.
He’d played the melody of it on the fiddle a few times, but had never sung it before then.
Clementine Mauve gave her sister a swift rundown of the song, the beat and the feeling it meant to convey.
They went back to the stage, Willow Swan staying slightly to the side, Clerk Carmine signaling Clementine Mauve to take the main mic and heading for the secondary one that the blonde girl usually occupied.
Willow Swan had the drum on her hip, Clementine Mauve the guitar slung in front of her, her fiddle resting on a small stand beside her, Clerk Carmine had his own fiddle.
Clementine Mauve nervously cleared her throat, “Alright Twelve so, I’m afraid we’re gonna have to cut the show a bit short tonight, so this will be our last song for the night.” There was some clear disappointment but no one complained, having seen Willow Swan struggling and likely not wanting her to strain her voice pushing through her sickness, “Please give a round of applause to Clerk Carmine who will be joining us for this song!” Applause indeed rang out, Clerk Carmine dipping his head.
The ghost was right there, overlaid above Clementine Mauve, a different young blonde girl announcing the Coveys.
“This song is titled, The Great Divide! I hope you’ll like it!”
He was grateful she’d given no details on the song.
He wasn’t ashamed of it but the story of it was a bit too personal for him.
They started playing, just him and Clementine Mauve, her strumming the guitar, him plucking the strings of his fiddle.
Clementine Mauve started it off in a light tone.
‘I can’t recall the last time that we talked.
About anything but looking out for snakes.
We got bonfire burns in the same side of our hands, we ain’t brothers.
We’re just morons, who broke skin in the same spot.’
Clerk Carmine took a deep breath.
‘Snakes’ had been what they called Peacekeepers way back when.
He didn’t know that performing this had been such a good idea.
But when Clementine Mauve shot him a nervous glance, he nodded and joined in.
‘But I’ve never seen you take a turn that wide.
And I am (was) young enough to still care if I die(d).
So I tried to read the thoughts that you’d worked overtime to stop.
You said ‘fuck off’, and I said nothin’ for a while.’
He’d spent years trying to make sense of the months that led up to Billy Taupe being exiled from the Coveys.
His growing desperation for more. The growing resentment he’d tried to hide over having to help take care of them even when Lucy Gray had been the one doing the heavy lifting.
How he’d slowly seemed to loose himself, being more and more willing to do more and more to get what he thought he deserved.
How Clerk Carmine couldn’t get to him, no matter how much he tried to get him to talk.
How he’d stopped trying, knowing it’d just result in a screaming match.
He sang the pre chorus on his own, voice almost raspy from misuse, the tone of an old man who’d seen too much.
‘You should know I think about you all the time.
And my deep misunderstanding of your life.
How bad it must’ve been for you back then, to keep it all inside.
And yet how easy was it for you to turn your back on all you were?’
Clementine Mauve sang the chorus with a certain sorrow to her, Clerk Carmine letting his voice fall into the background.
‘And I had hoped you’d settle down, I had hoped you’d marry rich.
I had hoped you’d be scared of only ordinary shit.
Like murderers and ghosts and illness on your skin.
And not your soul and what you might do with it.’
They went into a small interlude, Willow Swan quickly following their lead in the beat, she’d clearly been practicing on the drum.
Clementine Mauve seemed to gain a bit more confidence as she lifted her eyes from the guitar strings she’d been focused on to ensure she didn’t miss up, letting her voice carry out more.
‘You inched yourself across the great divide!
While we played songs of love you planned out your escape.
I heard nothin’ but the tunebox in every ballad that you once played.
While you swore the singer could no longer read your mind.’
The worst part for Clerk Carmine had been hearing Billy Taupe subtly at first and then more boldly criticizing Lucy Gray, claiming she’d changed, claiming they should’ve gone about things as he’d suggested.
Which would’ve likely wound up with all of them getting hung.
He’d tried to defend Lucy Gray, to tell him to not be dumb when he’d started talking about 'climbing the ladder’ and using someone to get a better chance in Twelve.
Billy Taupe hadn’t listened.
‘I warned you the world is scared of darin’ things.
Told you they only shoot the birds who scream not sing.
And I’m finally aware of how shitty and unfair.
It was for you to stare ahead like you couldn’t hear.’
Clerk Carmine looked out at the crowd, how they seemed to be drinking in the words, to understand that there was a certain betrayal there, buried somewhere in the lyrics.
That this song wasn’t quite about a relationship but a tragedy.
‘You should know I think about you all the time.
And my deep misunderstanding of your life.
How bad it must’ve been for you back then, to keep it all inside.
And yet how easy was it for you to turn your back on all you were?’
He was singing more alongside Clementine Mauve but still let her lead.
It was rather something… truly getting to sing like this again.
He’d only ever sung loudly at the lake or when Maude Ivory convinced him to.
…or when Lenore Dove implored him for lullabies.
‘And I had hoped you’d settle down, I had hoped you’d marry rich.
I had hoped you’d be scared of only ordinary shit.
Like murderers and ghosts and illness on your skin.
And not your soul and what you might do with it.’
They went into a smaller break, Clerk Carmine adding a short scale, going down.
Clementine Mauve took a step back from the mic, but lowered her voice, almost a whisper as Clerk Carmine and Willow Swan stopped playing a moment, letting her fully carry the song for a moment.
‘Rage… in small ways.
Did you wish that I could know.
That you’d fade to some place.
I wasn’t brave enough to go?’
Willow Swan gave a simple beat for a stronger delivery of the chorus, Clementine Mauve focusing on the guitar, her own voice almost becoming background for him.
And wasn’t that something.
‘And I had hoped you’d settle down, I had hoped you’d marry rich.
I had hoped you’d be scared of only ordinary shit.
Like murderers and ghosts and illness on your skin.
And not your soul and what you might do with it.’
Clementine Mauve gave a small drawn out note before giving out a more daring one, Willow Swan smiling big, winking when her sister shot her a glance.
‘Aah- ooh.’
Clerk Carmine watched as the sisters didn’t break each other’s gaze, united in so much more than blood and history.
Willow Swan couldn’t have hid her pride if she’d tried.
It would’ve broken his heart if it weren’t a sheer relief to watch the two sisters.
‘I hope you threw a brick right into that stained glass.
I hope you are someplace where you aren’t scared to ask.
I hope that you’re not losing peace over what came next.
Or about your soul… and what you did with it.’
The sisters were broken out of their reverie by the crowd whistling and clapping, Clementine Mauve blushing, looking down, Willow Swan stepping up, not speaking but taking her hand and raising it up, the people applauding Clementine Mauve.
Clementine Mauve gave a tiny curtsy before clearing her throat, “Give it up for Clerk Carmine and Willow Swan! Thank you so much, you know what to do with the basket, please pass it around. Good night Twelve!”
As he and Willow Swan gave their own small bows… for just a moment… he was a boy again.
Standing up on a stage, proud and sure of exactly who he was.
He was standing with the Baird cousins, his brother by blood and his brother by choice.
He stood between Barb Azure and Maude Ivory.
The ghosts would be strong that night… but for once it was bittersweet.
The Coveys were coming back to life.
And he’d do anything to keep this set of Baird girls safe.