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♐ May The {Odds} Be {Ever} In Your Favor ♐; Hunger Games | Closed | Active | Mature
Topic Started: Feb 8 2012, 11:26 PM (1,262 Views)
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<BR>I don't particular care for him teasing my motherly nature, despite the more genuine grin that rests on his features. It's not funny to me, not when I have to perform this 'strategy' every day of my life. It's routine, and tiring, but yet I find comfort in it as I care for him now. It's a distraction from what I'm going to have to do in the next few days. I need it, and I need it badly. Not to mention, my hands are not used to being so idle. I haven't done any real work in what feels like forever. I don't love my work, but it's what I'm used to, and I almost feel wrong lounging about when I know my siblings are exhausting themselves. I simply ignore those statements.

<br><br>"Oh, only because he doesn't have the brute strength you do, Ashlar." I remark at his response to me comparing him to my toddler of a brother, "We don't have this much in our home though that he can get his hands on anyway." I shrug nonchalantly, but I give him a light smile, not wanting things to get too serious. I can hear him getting a bit grumbily, and I would like to keep him away from any sort of dangerous attitude.

<br><br>I'm only in the middle of cleaning up his hand when he pulls away from me, laying on his back and resting his bruised head on his bleeding hands. Wonderful. I let out a sigh as I shake my head, a small simper on my lips, "You must be quite the catch back home." I'm only half sarcastic, teasing him for being the impossible boy he is, yet part of me would be utterly shocked if there wasn't a ton of girls vying for his attention back home. Honestly, he'd be a catch in my district, seen as a sustainable man who could take care of you and help you bare a big, strong, and substantial family. He'd definitely be useful for picking in the trees without even having to climb them.

<br><br>As I admire his face, the token seems to grow heavier in my hand. It's time. He's calm right now. I take a deep breath before I step forward and sit down beside him, placing the token in his massive hand. I curl his fingers around it and hold it closed in both of my hands for a moment, "I found it in the dining room." I know he doesn't really need to look at it to know what it is, so I continue before he can get too angry, forcing myself to keep my voice steady, "I was going to return it to you, but I wasn't in the mood to deal with your attitude. Honestly, from what I'd seen so far, I thought you wouldn't care all that much about some token... But obviously you're not some heartless Career, as much as you try to pretend to be." My voice becomes just a whisper now as I gaze at his face, "It's okay."
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Kasha doesn't reply to my little jokes, so great, now I'm the bad guy again. I hate it when people do that. I wish they'd just say whatever they want, and really let me have it. Now I know she's been bothered in some way, but I don't ask and I don't apologize, and the whole thing just sinks back into the dust and silence. When she says they don't have that much at home, my eyes flicker open. I feel a stab of regret again, despite the fact that her face says she's not looking for sympathy. But somehow, I get the feeling that although the Slate residence isn't gleaming with diamonds and imported lanterns and nobody's shuffling around in silken slippers, we're still better off than Kasha's family. I think about Maisie picking wild flowers for our mother's birthday, since a present that'll die in a month is hardly something we can sacrifice money for. The annoyance fades into dull empathy when I think about Kasha's brother, and I forget what I was thinking about earlier.

<br><br>"It's probably better that way," I finally say, not really how to handle this. It's been a while since I've talked to anyone outside the family about stuff like this. Close stuff that hits home. "My mom used to threaten to tie me to a post outside to keep me from breaking things," I mumble, remembering it. A low chuckle rumbles from my chest, until I pinpoint the exact moment in time that was--when my father died, and I wasn't able to cope with it. I was barely allowed to mourn, there was so much finger-pointing going around. I took my rage out on objects back then, too, although never to this scale. It was usually focused on dishes, to my mother's chagrin. Thinking about it slows the laugh to a stop.

<br><br>I stare back at her, and for the first time, I'm actually looking. I didn't even realize her nightgown, her scars, earlier, but I'm not one to be shy about those sort of things. My expression stays the same, but in my head, the shallow grooves and different shades of her skin remind me of the glistening stone in the quarry, all those patterns that you stare at while you're cutting. Patterns that seem to bend and distort until they told stories of the past. There was history in those layers of sediment, just like the history in her scars. But I don't ask anything. I may be a lot of things, but as for prying…well, I leave the interrogation for the Peacekeepers.

<br><br>Suddenly, Kasha starts talking about me being a catch. What's she going on about now? I take from her expression that she's joking around, I guess saying that my attitude doesn't exactly make me the District 2's No. 1 Heartthrob. I could take it or leave it. I don't know how much support I'll be getting from home, aside from my family. Maybe my ol' pals at the quarry will chip in a bit, but I know they can't spare much. I'm relying more on the Capitol residents. Seeing that she's not about to leave any time soon, I give a huff and pull myself up a little more, leaning my back on the headboard. From her smile, I can tell she's not really trying to tease me or anything. So, what…she's actually trying to be nice? That'd be a new one. If I was in Kasha's position, I know I wouldn't be nice to the jerk from dinner. Then again, when I glance around the room at the mess I made, the blood splotching the pillows…I guess that you wouldn't want to be too mean to a guy who just split his hand open and who will probably be covered in bruises tomorrow.

<br><br>Again, I don't really know what to say in response. I really don't talk to girls that often, and never really had a purpose to until the Games. "Well, I don't know about that," I mutter, although I do, and just don't want to talk about girls in cotton dresses bringing me lunch when their brothers used to slander my father's name. "…but I think my rating's gone up now that I might be for limited time only." I add, managing to put on a winning smile. It's the first time I've joked about the possibility of losing.

<br><br>Kasha takes my hand then, putting something in it, and hers is softer than I expected. But then I remember, we all went through the same treatment in those stupid prep stations. They even accomplished the feat of buffing down a quarryman's hands a little. All that thinking's shoved aside when I feel what she's given me, however, the familiar leather cord and scratched metal. I gaze at it anyway, for reassurance, because I thought I had lost it forever. And there it is, lying safely between my wrist and fingers.

<br><br>Immense emotions of relief flood over me; anger wasn't even a possibility. I look over at Kasha and she starts explaining it before I even know if I'd ask her to to begin with. It makes enough sense, however. Her last bit, though…her whisper, about me pretending…about not being a heartless Career. I wasn't expecting that part. I stare at her, then back at my token, and then back at her again. There's really only one thing to say, and I say it without a smile, because when I'm serious, everything seems to show through my eyes. Least, that what Maisie tells me she noticed.

<br><br> "…thank you."

<br><br>I don't specify.

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<BR>Aven doesn't pull away from my kiss, and when I look at her afterward, she doesn't seem appalled or anything. There's something in her eyes though, and I can't place whether it's all positive or not. Maybe she's trying to play it like I am, like it was no big deal, yet deep down we both know that's not true. It's the hugest deal. It pushes us over that ledge, into the unknown of not just being friends, but being lovers, soul mates, life partners to each other. Really, do we have any other options? Meeting anyone now and falling in love with them seems so impossible and absurd when she's right here in from of me. I can almost shudder at the thought of her ever being with somebody else.

<br><br>What am I doing? This is the Games. Aren't I just making things worse for us? No, that's not possible. This isn't us caring more about each other. It's just having the realization that we really will be life partners if we win this, forever witnesses to each other's lives, sharing a bed with one another, always having access to each other's arms. It's just the better and more obvious choice, to be truly together. We have to realize this now. We have to do it now, to claim each other, to let the other know what we really mean to each other before it all happens. I don't like to think that way, but I'm not going to risk it. She's mine, and I want her to know it.

<br><br>She promises me the same thing, and as I feel her hand and my eyes stay on that familiar face, I know there is no point in hiding this. "Can I kiss you?" I realize it's stupid to ask, a faint flush coming to my cheeks, "Ah, why am I even asking?" My hand precedes to slide to the back of her head, pulling her closer as my lips press against hers. There's more to it this time, as I take a sharp breath in through my nose. My other hand moves to the small of her back, and it's just me and her.

<br><br>There is no Games. There is no Capitol. There's no corrupt government. There's not even this room. All it is in that moment, all it ever has to be, is me and her. I don't want it to stop, becomes she transforms my pain into something I can stand, into something I enjoy, into pleasure, shifts all of the darkness into light. I don't want to, but finally, I pull away, my breathing slightly more labored. "Aven Mellark, can I kiss you for the rest of my life?"
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All of a sudden, Colton asks if he can kiss me. I can't hide my surprise this time, and I feel my cheeks get sort of warm, because he didn't even ask earlier…and now he's actually calling attention to the whole thing. Does this mean…he feels the same way? Well, I mean, that sounds stupid, it's obvious, but it's just that I'm not really used to things actually working out the way I want them to--a thought process that should probably be credited to my mother. Before I can tell him that it's sort of pointless to ask for permission after you've already done something, and I would know, because I tested it before, Colton goes ahead and kisses me again anyway, not that I mind, and not that I'm doing anything even close to minding. My thoughts go everywhere at once.

<br><br>I think about everything we've done together in the past. I think about Colton Fletcher, the boy who once carried me home from the woods, when I fell from a tree and broke my ankle. He's not a boy anymore, but I feel like he's still carrying me, and he'll be the one in the Games to take me through the whole thing. My dad's advice is invaluable, of course, but in the end, there will only be one man in the Arena who I know I could follow into a wall of fire, and he's here with me now. My lips are burning for his, and I ache to feel him more, one of my hands sliding up on his chest, while the other loops around his neck and lightly knots itself into his hair, grasping at him. I lean away, pulling Colton with me, and deepening the kiss with gravity as I arch my back, his hand still supporting it. We fit together perfectly, in every way. I've never known anything like this before, and I know I never will again.

<br><br>Colton ends the kiss, probably a lot later than most, but too early for me. He makes up for it with his question, however. I can't help but smile at him in a completely hopeless way, and I'm caught. There will never be anyone or anything else after Colton Fletcher. Not for me. In my mind, I think about how we've missed out on so much together, by not realizing these feelings earlier, and yet, I'm grateful that this has happened now, before we step foot in the Arena. Now, I'm more determined than ever to go back with him, to spend every day by his side, just like we promised. I'll get to have his kindness, his humor, his strength, by the bushel until eternity. We've been proposing to each other for years now, we just never knew.

<br><br>I answer by sliding my hands to his strong neck, one thumb making a slow circular motion against his jaw for a moment. And then, without warning, just like he did the first time, I lean in and kiss Colton again before answering (though I guess that'd be a good enough response on its own). I guess I've become greedy in the past few minutes. But I've been missing out for a long time, so I don't blame myself. I don't keep him for long, though, and with that one final kiss, I break away, just a little breathless. My forehead brushes against his, mine so warm that anyone else might have thought I was ill, but Colton knows the reason.

<br><br>I'm looking down at the sparse distance between us, and I don't know if I've ever been this close to him, physically, before this night. My vision traces upwards then, over his angular chin, his straight lips, his pointed nose, and finally, into those blue eyes, and it's like being able to see what midnight in the ocean, if the stars lit the waves. I smirk at him, now knowing that these features belong to me too, just as mine belong to him. My hair will forever have his name woven into it. "…I think so." I remark, very decidedly for a statement so typically open-ended, but we know what I really mean.



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<BR>I almost want to close my eyes, wait for the initial explosion, all while running through my mind all of my defenses and offenses towards him. I don't though. I sit there, gazing at his face. I watch his face, especially those pools of spring blue eyes of his, and I see that anger isn't coming. It's the farthest thing from his gaze as it flits between myself and his token, and I feel a weight lifted off my heart. I can almost cry. I'm surprised I don't when he finally whispers the last thing I expect, which is a thank you.

<br><br>"You're welcome." I whisper to him, a warm and friendly smile placed on my lips. "It's a beautiful token." As I mention it, my hand goes to the tightly woven bracelet on my wrist. "Did your family make it for you?" I know the answer. He wouldn't care so much about it if it wasn't, if it was something that he had made himself or found in a shop. No. This was done with love and care by a family, a family who loves him very much, and a family he would die for. I can relate to that.

<br><br>"It can be our secret, you know." I find myself saying, and I continue despite the fact I know it's a touchy subject. He hides for a reason. "All of this. Who you are. What happened tonight. I won't tell the others." I reach out and brush off a dried tear with my thumb, my eyes full of understanding. I find my thumb going back and forth a little, stroking his skin, filling my need to soothe someone. It somehow helps to soothe myself, and I'm the only person I can really rely on for such a thing.

<br><br>"Now, do ya think you can let me clean you up?" I ask with a slight chuckle, shaking my head a bit at him, "Your prep team would have a field day seein' you like this." Not that I really care for those superficial duddies. "It's gonna get as swollen as a tracker jacker sting at this rate." It's a bit of an exaggeration, considering I've seen my fair share of tracker jacker stings. I've been stung a couple times myself, and I would never wish the experience on anyone, except maybe the low lives who put on this inhumane production. It makes me smile a little more as I joke with him, my hand brushing back his hair as if it's the most natural thing in the world.
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For some reason, it makes me sort of glad to hear her say she thinks it's beautiful. I wish Maisie and Rance could have heard it, they would have been really proud, and they'd immediately jump at the chance to start bragging and telling the story of exactly how they went about making their older brothers token. They'd give all the smallest details, and probably toss a few exaggerations here and there in tale for effect. But it's not like I can judge them for that. I'm not exactly the most honest person in Panem. She touches her bracelet then, drawing attention to it for the first time. Probably her own token. I tense slightly, hating that this is what we've been reduced to, clinging to objects because we can't have the real thing.

<br><br>"No," I remark in response, probably to her surprise, as I get up for a moment, walking over to my pile of clothes from earlier. I fumble around for the shirt, and then pick it up at the thin chain-linked edging…probably a reference to the chains of derricks we masons use sometimes. There's even a miniature skyhook. I pull the chain out from the shirt, making no effort to be careful, the fabric making a loud tearing sound. But I know it's not like I'm ever going to wear this outfit again, so it doesn't really matter. "I stole it from a little girl." I make fun of myself and my mask for once, grinning as I dangle the chain from my hand and toss the shirt back into the pile. The grin turns more tender than I care for when I look at the token again, however.

<br><br>I manage to pry it from my fingers to place it on bed for a moment so I can fasten the chain around my neck. While I do that, the truth just decides to come out anyway. I guess I already gave away more than I wanted to tonight, and now I'm just on a roll that needs to come to a stop soon. "My younger sister and brother did the carving," I start, and then scoop up the token. I knot the leather cord around the chain, making the whole thing a sort of necklace that will make sure my keepsake won't slip from my grasp next time. "My mother put it all together…after my first Reaping." When they saw that one way or another, I would one day be a Tribute. I just hadn't expected it to be like this. I gaze back at Kasha, then realize that I didn't mention my father at all in the story. So I add the next line, not wanting her to ask the one thing I never, ever want to talk about. "And it's my father's cord." The roll's at the stop.

<br><br>Kasha mentions this being a secret then, as if she used some District 11 trick and was able to read my mind about all of this going a lot farther than I wanted it to. Her hand moves up to touch my face, and my first instinct to pull back, kind of startled at the…gesture. But to add to the shock, I don't. I'm letting my guard down even more than I predicted, all for some girl with charred agate eyes. I shake my head, but my eyes don't move from hers. "…I don't know what you're talking about," I reply, but the look on my face says something else. Thanking her again.

<br><br>I don't really like the idea of owing her more than I already do…picking up my token (never mind the fact that she wasn't going to give it to me later. At least she didn't leave it there for whoever), not giving away what went on tonight…and now she's going to patch me up. I'm going to end up in debt, a concept I'm not too comfortable with. It's why I'm here, acting like this, to begin with. But I'm drained, and I know things could get bad if the injuries aren't taken care of…I've seen enough things gone wrong in the workplace because someone insisted on keeping at it when the bleeding hadn't stopped yet. Kasha pushes back my hair, but I'm guessing it's to get a better look at the bump I got from plowing my head into the wall. I relax a bit, my body language telling her to go ahead, but my words are as contradictory as ever.

<br><br>"I think I'd look pretty heroic," I respond, raising a brow (causing my forehead to ache a little more), but my words are lacking the usual smack of power that leans it towards sarcasm. I doubt I'd ever really look heroic. I know that heroes and winners aren't always the same thing.


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<BR>I've become swept up in Aven's kiss, my heart pounding against my chest as our lips dance up against each other's. I feel a strange mixture of cold and hot sweat seeping from me, a chill running through me as a flush soon follows after. How could I have been so blind before? Why didn't I see what she had meant to me? We could've enjoyed so much more of this. It shouldn't matter though. We'll get more of this, because we'll win. We have to. I will make sure of it.

<br><br>I feel my fingertips pressed into her back as we continue, not wanting it to end, wanting to stay in this moment forever. I want to stop time, for this night to never end, and to just be with Aven here and now, yet at the same time, I don't. I want to move through my life with her. I want to get passed those stupid Games, go home to the Victor's Village, and marry her. We'll have our traditional toast, sing songs, eat her father's bread, and live the life we were destined to have all along.

<br><br>In flashes, I wonder if we would have children of our own. Is it cruel to have a child in this world, when you know there's a chance they'll be chosen for the Games? I can't imagine seeing my own child take place in this sickening tradition of our country. It saddens me, because I want a child with Aven's eyes someday, even if it's far off in our future. I want her to want a child without fearing for it's life twelve years later. It's not fair. It angers me, but I allow it boil beneath the surface, enjoying our tantalizing kiss until I pull back.

<br><br>I stare at her as she does to me, admiring her strong yet soft features, her sun kissed skin, her hair of golden thread, and finally her eyes. They're a different sort of blue than mine. Mine are so muted, desaturated by my father's gray Seam eyes, as if ash and coal dust have settled in. Her's are so pure, as clear as an untouched summer sky, as vivid as fresh blueberries, and I wish I could live in them. Her answer is all I need to break me from my concentration on her, and with a bittersweet smile, I embrace her. I place my hand at the back of her head, strumming along it as I place a tender kiss upon her temple. "I love you, 'Ven." I could say that all the time, and it always sounded a certain away, but now it's different. It's drenched in a love that's more than I can explain, and more than I ever want to lose.

<br><br>With another lingering kiss on her forehead, my arm slips under her legs as the other wraps around her shoulders. I scoop her up after getting into a more manageable position, and I bring her over to the large plush bed. I lay her down, kick off my shoes, and then crawl in beside her. My arm slips about her shoulders once more, my arm acting as a pillow for her. I stare up at the ceiling, the same way we would stare up at the sky as we laid like this in the Meadow. "They will not ruin us." I whisper after a minute of straight silence, and my free hand finds her own, and I hold it like it is the only lifeline I have left.
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As we kiss, my mind's become like a wooden boat that ferries back and forth between one world and the next. One world is our world…blended with reality, memories, and hopes for the future. Thoughts of our past hunts and our body warmth now, and what we're living for, why we have to beat the Games. The bulk of our drive comes from the will to protect our families, of course, but I'm pushing myself for us, too. The idea that there can be an us in the future, not just the present. An us that grows old together in District 12's Victors' Village…and maybe not even alone in our house.

<br><br>Always a little hasty, I jump ahead, thinking about kids already. I've never thought about having children before, because I've never thought about marriage and all that. You don't normally think about that stuff when you're wrapped up in this sort of life. But Colton's give me a reason to wonder. I want a scruffy little boy and girl who'll both have their father's heart of weathered gold, his undying loyalty and bravery. I want children whose ears will perk up when their parents tell them stories about the hunt. But I don't want children whose names will be in this glass balls, children who will wait in front of a platform that both their parents stood on.

<br><br>It's complicated.

<br><br>But now, I can't worry about these situations in the future. I've got to take everything one at a time. Taking the poison in degrees, dealing with each sip by itself. Moving on only when I'm strong enough, and I know exactly who will be there to give me that motivation when I most need it. Colton reins me back into his arms, the place where I've always belonged, touching me in ways I didn't know I've craved for. His kiss warms my skin before my heart, which starts to race almost dangerously when Colton gives new meaning to old words. My expression softens, and I shake my head lightly in hopes of knocking a few words out, because for this moment…I feel speechless for once.

<br><br>"I don't think there's enough words to say what you are to me," I chuckle stubbornly as I pull back a little, fingers lightly tweaking his nose before my hand goes back to rest between his neck and shoulder. "But I guess that'll have to do," I mutter, dropping my shoulders slightly. I press a gentle kiss to the side of his nose, beneath his eye. "I love you, Colt," I say, my usually strong voice trembling a bit for once, the devotion and affection I feel for this one boy so strong, it can hardly be restricted to syllables. I gaze back at him, the feelings translating into a smile that radiates what can't be said.

<br><br>Suddenly, Colton's arms encase me, causing my eyes to widen, but my absolute trust in him doesn't leave room for more surprise than that. He takes me over to the bed, me dropping my heeled shoes to the ground on the way over. We're already a married couple in bed together, and it suits us, like something we've done for years. The hard contours of his muscular body soften beneath me, and I roll onto my side carefully.

<br><br>I smile at him, looking up at his striking profile as I nestle in closer to him. I'm pressed deep into his aroma, and I'm relieved to discover that the clothes of the Capitol haven't washed away the scent I know, that sense of something that was sharper being soothed to a blurrier tone, almost something like a pastel waft of pine. His eyes are elsewhere; he's star-gazing without any stars, and I turn to look, too, staring at a ceiling that I know is a milky white, but looks grey without fluorescents. Staring in silence, breathing beside him, wondering what will happen to us and if we can be saved. But then Colton speaks up, answering my question. We'll save ourselves. His hand's seeking mine, and I welcome his fingers, both of ours soon interlacing.

<br><br>"Nope," I say in agreement, shifting slightly just to kiss the underside of his jaw. Nothing will be able to hurt us, not when we're together. I won't let it happen. The Capitol's got another thing coming to them if they think they can control us. My clothes rustle as I settle back beside my everything. I'm still wearing the fancy gown, but although it's like nothing I'm used to wearing, it's not entirely uncomfortable. In fact, with Colton's hand in mine, I think I'm more comfortable than I've ever been in my life. "Just another adventure for Colt and Ven." It's a lazy murmur, because I'm already starting to fall asleep, but I know he'll have heard it, and together, we drift off into sweet unconsciousness, unbothered, like paper boats sailing side by side in an endless stream.


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<BR>I actually laugh when he gets up and jokes about stealing his token from a little girl. It sounds foreign to me. I can't remember the last time I really laughed. When did I have reason to? I'd always smile and put on a happy face for my siblings, but there was never a reason to laugh or chuckle. He made me laugh somehow, and any debt he may think he owes me has already been repaid. I also realize what a handsome grin he has when it's not so cocky. It's genuine and for some reason it makes my heart feel funny, and not in a bad way either.

<br><br>This is stupid. I have to guard myself more. I suddenly feel my lips revert back to a thin line, but my eyes aren't so cold. They keep their friendly gleam as I watch him make his token into a necklace. I'm shocked when he reveals more details, saying how his two younger siblings carved it. My warm smile returns, thinking of my own siblings and how they put my bracelet together for me. He tells me his mother put it together, and that it's made from his father's cord. This makes me sad. I don't have a mother, or a father. The only reason we aren't in a community home is because of elderly aunt living in the house, acting as the mask while I take care of everything. I feel like this shows, so I force more of a smile on my face, not wanting to seem sad. "They must love you very much."

<br><br>His response to my suggestion of keeping everything a secret is defensive, something I expected. I stare into his eyes however and know what he's really saying. He's grateful. "I don't like liars, but if it's what you need to do in front of the others, I understand... I just ask that you try not to do it with me, when there's no one to put a show on for." I hate that he lies to himself, about who he is, cause he's not the uncaring Career he wants us all to think. There's more to him than that. Right now, I see him as a doting older brother with two siblings who must adore and look up to him. I wish I could see him with his brother and sister.

<br><br>"I think you'd look real silly with a big bump on your head." I tease him with an open smile, my teeth a glowing contrast to my dark skin. I get up from the bed, making my way into his bathroom and grabbing a smaller and fresher towel. I damp it with warm water before I come back, climbing back onto the bed beside him. I sit up on my knees as I take his hand in mine first, going back to those wounds first. As I carefully wipe away the dried blood, I notice how slender and frail I look compared to him, his hand nearly three times the size of mine, his wrist far thicker. I must look so weak, and I hate that. "I'm sure you'll get many chances in the Arena to be a hero."
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She laughs at my line, harder than I expected, if I even expected her to laugh at all. I'm not really too sure on what to think about her. One part of her is reserved and almost diplomatic. The other part…well, that's the part I'm unsure about. It's nice, though, her laugh. Does't last long, because for some reason Kasha snaps back like a rubber-band and into that more rigid side of her, but I can tell the laugh still has her in its grip. Then she smiles a little…then it fades. Then it comes back in full force again. What is she…what did I...I thought I was the one who was doing the hiding? But I don't mention it. I guess that's an effect of my own acting. I've come to respect boundaries. Maybe even more than I should. My mother used to always tell me that walls keep you isolated, and some are meant to be broken down, but I'm too caught up breaking stone.

<br><br>I don't really know how to reply to her words. I could always go the arrogant route, but when my family's concerned, I prefer to take a different road. "…yeah," I say, and resist the urge to touch the token around my throat now. "I guess they do." I don't guess, though. I know. If there's anything I'm certain of in this damn world, it's that.

<br><br>Kasha goes on again, asking me not to lie in front of her. It's strange, because I know if anyone else had asked that, I would have probably just kept on denying it, and asked them that if it was true, what would make them think they're so special to demand something like that in the first place? My motto was always about people keeping to their own business. But somehow, with her finding and giving me my token, and saying she'll keep all this a secret, I feel like I owe it to her to say yes. But being me, I've got conditions. "…all right," I respond, my hands going up to tie one more knot for extra security, and to give me something to do. "But don't try to save me from the others." I'm reminded of how she spoke up after Aven's polite little inquiry. She'd just end up hurting herself trying to do that, because in front of them, I wasn't going to try to be any better. I'd do whatever I felt was necessary, and her taking the heat wasn't part of my plan. "You won't be doing me any favors by getting involved." Things would just get messy.

<br><br>She teases me about the bump on my head then. She's funny, like a mix of my mother and sister. Nurturing and kind of a rascal in her ow sense. Maybe that's why I treat her like this, let her in just a bit more. "You never know," I snort a little, letting my shoulders fall as my gaze sweeps over to her, one brow lifted. "It could become a fad in the Capitol." If they thought getting jewels lodged in their skin was pretty, who knew, maybe uneven surfaces on your skin would become the next big thing. I thought they were freaks, but I can't say too much because I'd let someone dye my skin any color they want if my family could move here…eat the richest food Panem has to offer, and never have to worry about being in the Hunger Games. What a dream. The best future I can bring back for them is a spot in the Victors' Village. Which would definitely be hundreds of steps up, but it's hard to think about that when you consider what the worst future could be. No future.

<br><br>Kasha goes into the bathroom and brings another towel out, and I try to unwind as she starts tending to my injuries, barely flinching. I've gotten hurt a lot worse before. It's not like we're picking daisies in District 2, after all. I watch her as she works, noticing how used she is to the movement. Sort of like when you see a mason working with his hammer on some stone, and it's like the instrument's just a extension of himself. It's just a natural habit to him. I'm guessing that she has a lot of people to take care of back at home. Maybe my words about her being a mother weren't completely a joke. Looks like we'll probably be able to depend on her in this sense. District 11 people do tend to know more about that sort of stuff. What did she say again? Right. Fuel, and aid.

<br><br>At her next statement, however, I have to chuckle. "I don't think so," I remark, glancing away, staring at nothing. "Heroes in the stories are usually ones who are willing to give up their lives for the ones they care about." At least in the stories my mother would tell me. The story that my father tried to become. "That chance was taken away from us, Kasha." I look back at her now, stony eyes humorless. No one's a hero here. Not in the 100th Hunger Games. "We can't die honorable deaths. We die murderers, even if we don't kill in the Arena." You couldn't risk being a coward, but that didn't make you a hero either. That word was very specific for me. It had to be, after my father's death.
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<BR>I feel a huge relief when he agrees not to lie to me. I honestly didn't really expect him to, but had a faint glimmer of hope. I smile, and I easily nod to his condition. "I'll do my best to try not to save you from the power couple." I tease though they aren't there. I will find this easy. My self control is a useful asset. Keeping silent and indifferent to whenever Ashlar and the others bicker would be simple, though now that I do know him, I know it'll be harder to hear it. I can take it though. I can take nearly everything.

<br><br>He makes another joke regarding his ever swelling bump and the Capitol's unique fashion sense, and a light airy chuckle escapes me, reaching my eyes. He makes me laugh, and I hate that he makes me laugh. I wasn't suppose to get this involved with this boy, but I can't get myself to stop. It's like I've dug a hole so far into the earth I can't get back out, so the only thing left to do is keep digging. Digging is work though, and this doesn't feel like work. This feels like something I rarely get to experience. It's like an escape.

<br><br>Suddenly, I find myself loathing my circumstances back home more than I usually do. I'm angry at my parents, because even though they were only trying to feed us, it ended up getting them killed, leaving us worse off than we already were, and leaving me in charge of seven younger brothers and sisters. I have to care for them as if they were my own, and I feel like it's breaking me. My aunt can hardly be a support for me when I'm already supporting her entirely. Marriage has been seeming like my only option as of late. Of course, marrying any of the men around me seems more like a business deal than an actual marriage. Winning these Hunger Games will not only keep my family alive, but it will provide for them the way that I never could on my own.

<br><br>As much as this frightens me, I know it's my only opportunity to give my family all that they deserve. Even though the money will ease things however, I'm still taking care of seven children. Sometimes I get so tried I just want to break down and cry but I can't. I have to be okay for them, so they know it's okay. I hate pretending... Maybe I'm a better actress than I thought.

<br><br>This is why I like Ashlar. My smiles aren't fake around him. He's made me genuinely laugh twice in less than ten minutes. For some odd reason, I feel safe in his presence, like if I stood behind him nothing would hurt me. I sort of hate this feeling, because I like being strong on my own, but I need it. I need to be able to let my guard down every once in awhile. I like, no, I'll admit, love the way he cares for his family. I can relate to that. He's no pig after all. In fact, he's quite the fine man.

<br><br>"You don't have to die to be a hero, Ashlar." I murmur as I bring my eyes up to his face, which could be carved from stone, amusingly enough. I easily pick up the bitterness in his words and I want to wash it away. "We become heroes by staying alive. If you live, you're saving their lives. It'll test you... How strong you need to be, the will to live, to push through." I move my eyes back down as I take his palm and give it a faint squeeze, my fingers strong despite how slender they are. "We become heroes by saving each other." I pause, my heart ramming itself into my chest, as my fingertips run over the lines in his hand. "I would save you... Your brother and sister deserve live and have their big brother back." I whisper as my gaze meets his own, my rye orbs shimmering with the tears I'm holding back. I find myself vowing to protect this boy as much as myself when I'm in that Arena.
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The power couple. I laugh at that. That was a nice way of putting it. I'm not sure what to think of Colton and Aven…if they're playing a game to get the most they can, or if they really are crazy enough to be in love during the Games. And I don't really know which is worse, but I know that it's not going to do anything to try to figure it all out. "Let's just hope they don't get sidetracked when axes and spears come flying." It's not like I'd be heartbroken if anything happened to them, but then our team would be cut in half, and so would our chances. And our families'.

<br><br>I start realizing that I'm thinking about it as "us" and "we" and "our" and not just "me" and "I" and "mine"…when did it start becoming like that? I've always been selfish…in a sense, at least. My mind's only keyed towards my family, and because I'm the only one who can take care of them, I have to be selfish. So why am I starting to think about Kasha and her family too? I can't…I can't think about both. Then I'll be making sacrifices I can't spare. In the Games, the smallest slip up, the smallest choice, could ruin you.

<br><br>What can I do, though, when she's looking at me like that?

<br><br>No, it's not just the look. It's something else. Girls have looked at me with that expression before, but none of them have ever made me think twice about.

<br><br>She's making me think twice about everything. Being a hero for just being alive. It sounds like such a spineless thing to think. Nobody says things like that in the quarry. That's what the cowards say when they don't want to be lowered into the deepest parts of the pit, the darkest tunnels, where no natural light shines through. Kasha makes it sound almost honorable, though. Still…I don't want to be tested. That's what everything in my life has been about. Being put to the test to see if I'm like my father after all, a guy who makes a mistake and blows everyone to the grave. Being tried to see if I'm worth something at all. I guess I was stupid to think that I'd escape that from the Games. It's going to be worse. I just didn't consider the hero aspect being a part of it, too.

<br><br>She squeezes my hand, her words crushing into me. Saving each other? Being saved by someone else is a new concept for me. For seven years, I've been the one who does all the saving. All the work, all the worry that I could take on, and more, was strapped around my shoulders. I didn't want my mother or siblings to lift a finger if I could help it. The thought that there are others now, taking loads off, sharing the burden…it was too different. I couldn't adjust, at least not quickly. Someone on their own, suddenly in a group. Anyone else would be happy they weren't alone anymore, but me, well…I knew what it really meant. Just more people to care about, more people who can get hurt.

<br><br>I suck in my breath, not wanting to consider it. Kasha traces the imprints in my palm and then tells me something I really didn't want to hear, just pushing my earlier concern to the surface. I stare back at her, a frown starting at first. Because that's exactly what I don't want. People risking themselves for me. Debt. If I'm by myself, if no one gives a damn about me, I don't have to worry about this sort of stuff. Part of me, the part that has grown over the years like a hard shell to protect both me and my family, tells me to say something, tells me that my pride would never allow myself to be saved by a girl, much less one who's probably the farthest the thing from a Career as possible. I know that'd shove her back.

<br><br>I'm about to say that, mouth opening, but then my hand interrupts me, moving first. My fingers wrapping slightly over her small hand, and then suddenly, my sentence changes. "I guess I better say the same," I simper, shaking my head. "Can't have your brother not having his older sister around to patch him up now, can I?" What sort of heartless Career would I be then?

<br><br>A real one.

<br><br>It's strange. I've been trying to keep away from that my whole life. Because I didn't think I had a choice. But now…guess I'm finally seeing that things aren't always black and white. Sometimes they bleed into grey.


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<BR>My heart and my breath both catch when I feel his hand subtly grasp my hand. It's not much, but it surely catches my surprise. I feel as if my eyes dilate before they focus on his handsome face, a cool chill running down my spine as he told me he would save me, that he would give me back to my little brother so I could continue to take care of him. I can feel my throat swell as I force myself not to cry.

<br><br>When was the last time someone had even mentioned taking care of me?

<br><br>I want to hug him. I want to throw myself at his bearish frame and hug him tightly, to feel what it's like to have protective arms around me. I can't remember ever hugging for my own selfish reasons. I hug to soothe others, to make them feel better, but never myself. My siblings cling to me, hug me when their sibling hits them or they're begging for food. I stare at him, and as I nearly choke on my impending tears, I stand up from the bed before I full out cry.

<br><br>I turn away from him, "T-Thank you." Ugh, my voice is shaking. I promised myself I wouldn't do this. I wasn't allowed. I'm not allowed to cry. Crying makes you weak and vulnerable. I can't stand doing it myself, though I would gladly wipe a thousand tears from my brother and sisters' faces. I stand there, knowing it must look awkward. I can imagine him staring at the back of my head like there's something wrong with me. I need to do something.

<br><br>Knowing there were no bandages in the bathroom (Cause I suppose they saw no need when we couldn't harm one another before the Games), I sit on the edge of the bed and carefully rip off ends of my nightgown, grateful that it was on the longer side. Not making eye contact with him, I find myself speaking. "I hate being away from them. They don't really have anyone else. Right now I'm just hoping our neighbors can spare something... And they won't be foolish enough to steal. I can't have those Peacekeepers whipping those kids." I feel my hand give a violent tremble and the tear in my nightgown becomes jagged. I become angry at myself, and suddenly my voice grows stoic. "I have to return. I have to. We'll make it back to our families. We will." I insist before I finish tearing the cloth. I rip it in half before I moved onto my knees beside him, a little closer than I had before. My eyes are glossy but everything else on my face is strictly straight.

<br><br>Quietly, I begin to wrap up his hands, sliding the thin white cloth between his fingers and over his knuckles firmly. "I want things to be better for them. I can't seem to do enough." I suddenly confess, my voice melancholy but steady, something I can live with. When I tie off the bandage, I spring over his lap to the other side of him without much disturbance on the bed, ready to clean and wrap up his other hand, "Can you tell me more about your family, Ashlar?" I asked hesitantly, chancing a glance up at him, ready to push the subject away from me. I don't want to think about it anymore.
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My promise has a stronger effect that I predicted. She looks like the love of her life has just proposed, or something, and for a second, I don't know how to handle it. A tremor runs through my arms, and suddenly, I feel like raising them, and…what…pulling her into them? What the heck is wrong with me? That's just…no, I never feel like that. My arms remain loose by my sides, heavy as cement, and I just look for something witty to say back. When I open my mouth, I'm surprised by the result. "No need. It's what Careers do." Careers? I never talk about them in a good light without hidden sarcasm. But I guess it's true. It's not in us to lose. But it's not in us to care about others, either. Unless I'm suddenly changing the definition of what a Career is. I never thought about doing that, and it's too out there for me to really think about. All I know is that I never thought about redefining this life before Kasha.

<br><br>For some reason, Kasha starts tearing her nightgown, and I start thinking that's she's going to try to frame me for something if someone comes in all of a sudden, say that I kidnapped her or something--the room's trashed enough to make that story sound real--but my skepticism's washed aside when she starts mentioning her family again. I guess if I'm ever a softy, it'd have to be when it comes to family…especially younger siblings. It sounds like she has it worse than I even thought…especially with the thing about the Peacekeepers. Peacekeepers. They're exactly the type of people I can never forgive. I could've been one of them…we would've been taken care of better. But no matter how bad things were, I could never become the thing that killed my father. There was a difference between becoming a person I hated…a Career, and the thing that had stolen the foundation in my life, and the lives of my mother and siblings. Become a thing that whips children, like Maisie and Rance, Kasha's siblings. Like Kasha herself. Love doesn't leaves scars like that, after all.

<br><br>"Damn right we will," I finalize it, not knowing what else to say. But I mean it. I promised her, and I'm going to stick by what I said and make sure she gets back home. "The next time you see them, you guys will be moving into the Victor's Village together." I smirk, before she starts wrapping my hand and I realize what it was for in the first place. Idiot.

<br><br>While Kasha's bandaging me, she continues to talk, and I grit my teeth. I know exactly what she means…exactly what she's feeling. Me, I'm always trying to find new ways to take care of my mother and siblings. Always thinking about more jobs or just talking to people. I act laid-back all the time, but in reality, I've got a lot of pent-up anxiety, wondering how everyone's getting along. I did that before the Games started, and now it's even worse. But the way I release all the worry is usually by making other people angry. Hearing them yell at me the way I want to do to myself is pretty gratifying. I don't think Kasha uses the same method, but I can understand what she's going through. But I'll be a hypocrite, and console her anyway with advice I don't follow myself. "Hey, you're already doing everything you can," I remark, shaking my head. If she tries any harder, she'll burst. Believe me. I lighten the mood with a classic, dangerous comment. "What do you want to do, overthrow the Capitol?" I chuckle, knowing that's the only thing that would really solve our problems. The joke might be over the line, but I don't really know when to quit. I guess as a kid, I liked playing with fire, because I like getting hurt. It was satisfying to be burned, because I knew I deserved it.

<br><br>She asks about my family suddenly, turning the tables. I wasn't expecting that, but I can tell she's trying to shift the focus off herself. But I don't want it, either. I don't want the spotlight unless I have my mask. I can't talk about it, and I stare at the sheets, twitching my newly bandaged hand, the pain just a muted sting. "…there's not really that much to say," I mutter, pulling one of my legs up and resting my arm on my knee. I know I promised not to lie, but I'm not. I'm just…holding things back. I've got to have some rules, after all. This isn't some night gossip show airing in the Capitol. Kasha told me more than she should have, and I know I should feel like I owe her my own story, but I don't. It's different. Hers…it's a story that would make the those from the Capitol feel for her, and want to send her gifts. My story's not like that. It turns people against me, or at least, against my family. I don't like the idea of having it out in the open air. I don't want it to be said. At least, not now. Not so soon.

<br><br>"I just want to make them proud," I say all of a sudden, looking up, but not at her, my gaze focusing on the opposite wall, concentrating--like that would help. "I want to make all of them proud. My whole district." It's got to be like that, or there's no point in any of it. Finally, I turn back to her, my eyes, that had hardened with the rebirthed resolve, instantly softening when they meet the familiar features of her face. "It's why I have to give them a good show, Kasha." Under her fingers, my fist clenches slightly.


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<BR>I feel the tears burning and simmering behind my charcoal eyes as he insists we will win, and it touches me, more than I think it could. I glance up at him with glossy eyes and I swallow, unable to believe the rush of feelings that come over me. "That's such a nice idea." I whisper as I blink a few times, forcing my emotions back. I don't want to seem like some over emotional little girl. I sniff once and straighten my shoulders, "Maybe all of them would get their own room, though that might make it harder for me to keep track of them." I let out a laugh, but there is no humor behind it.

<br><br>A soft and warm smile touches my lips when he assures me I'm doing what I can, and I want to believe that. I sigh. I'm so busy taking care of my siblings and getting food on our table, I tend to forget how old I am. I feel old, like I'm some middle aged mother who had all these children and was left alone to care for them. Each year of the Reaping I'm reminded I'm just a child myself, and somehow, his words... No. Him... He makes me feel this way. He reminds me I'm young, and there's a little more to my life than taking care of others. I flit my eyes up to him as he makes that crack about overthrowing the Capitol, and I laugh, a much bigger one, my eyes lighting up. I shake my head, and out of habit towards my siblings, I hold my finger to his lips as if to shush him, "Now, don't talk like that." I realize what I'm doing and I swiftly pull my hand back, my slender fingers curling into a loose fist before it moves back down to his hand. "Besides." I say more quietly, my face reduced to a pleasant setting, but somehow more somber, "A girl from District 11 is no match for the mighty Capitol."

<br><br>I may be able to feed and heal myself, but I am no physical fighter. It frustrates me, but I'm frail. I'm fast, but how long can you run away? How long can you dodge hits? I'm not fast enough for get away from some of the weapons that are sure to appear there. I would be no match if I came across someone as big and strong as Ashlar. I want to believe I'll make it, for my family, but in the end, in the back of my mind, I know my chances are slim. While I would do my best to help my team, who is to say they would not abandon me for their own good?

<br><br>Somehow I feel like Ashlar wouldn't.

<br><br>I wrap the bandage that is made up of my nightgown much like I had on the other hand before I curl his fingers, holding his hand in both of mine. I run my thumbs over the back of his hand, that side much softer than his once calloused palms. He first seems to brush off my question about his family, but then he surprises me when he remarks that he wants to make them proud, and that's all. I look up at his face, but I don't meet his eyes as he concentrates on the wall behind me. I gaze at his features however, admiring them. I take in his light skin, perfectly kissed by the sun. His serene baby blue eyes, dashed with specks of green, almost give me the same refreshing feeling of chewing on a mint leaf. My eyes quickly gander down at his lips, and I look away before I blush at myself. I really am a teenage girl. A foolish teenage girl.

<br><br>He tells me how he wants to make his entire district proud, and I know how that feels. I know we all do, even just a little bit, yet I feel that the desire is stronger within Ashlar. I see the fire for it in every inch of his strong features. He finally looks at me, and I lock my eyes with his, my heart betraying me and beating faster than I'd like it to. What he says next makes a faint smile hit my lips, moved by the remark, that he would reveal that. I squeeze his hand where it won't hurt. "You'll do it, Ashlar. You'll make all of them proud. You'll be a star in your district. I know it." I sound confident, because I am. I believe it all.

<br><br>"You put on an amazing show." I whisper as the tips of my nails caress along the bones of his thick wrists in a soothing manner, the gesture one of absentmindedness. "T-They'll love your strength, your look-" I blush faintly at this. "... And your confidence. You'll be incredible." My smile is one of a melancholy tone as I continue, "You'll have sponsors." We were going to be on our own in that regard. The teams wouldn't get gifts, but the individual members. "I can only hope pity is in this Hunger Games." I get out weakly, before putting on a wider smile, just wanting to brush off the comment. It's all I've got. I'm poor, thin, weak, and I don't believe myself to be pretty. In my eyes, I'm plain, and as pretty as I might have looked tonight, I feel like the audience can somehow see through the painted visage.

<br><br>I don't realize I'm crying until a salty tear hits Ashlar's bandages.

<br><br>I almost seemed frightened by it. I sniff abruptly and press my scarred palms to my eyes, swiftly wiping away the moisture, but it's not working, and I feel like such a fool. "I-I'm sorry. This is so unlike me. I don't cry." I shake my head quickly, letting out a weak and broken laugh. I hate myself for doing this, for doing it in front of him. I'm too ashamed to even look at him. I'm just a weak and crying little girl and I'm going to die in the Arena. In this moment of weakness, it's all that comes to me, and I feel the sickening urge to somehow apologize for my siblings. I will try as hard as I can for them, but oh, I know my chances.

<br><br>Who am I kidding?
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SKINNED BY ALISON WONDERLAND OF ATF.