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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 (1,260 Views)
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I'm sort of shocked when Kasha puts her finger to my lips, but I don't make any sign of it, kind of just blinking it away and moving on to responding to her self-deprecation. I mean, realistically thinking…"No one is," I snort, turning my head away. It'd be impossible for someone to bring down the Capitol. I can't imagine it…."…at least…not by themselves," I add, for some reason, and my gaze slowly returns to hers, before I realize I'm still talking about the forbidden subject and I cut it off right then and there.

<br><br>Her words make me feel awkward…maybe even shy, if that's possible. I shake my head to cover any embarrassment, trying to cling to my confident front as much as possible. Girls…maybe they've said stuff to me like this before, but, not the way she's saying it. Make them proud, be a star…me, being likable, lovable. When did this happen? Careers…we're ironic breeds. We thrive on being worshiped and loved but when it pounds down to the raw, who really thinks of us of anything more than good stock to bet on? Will anyone really like me enough to want to send me those silver parachutes if I need them? Would they even be paying attention to me? I give something of a hopeless chuckle, wiping the back of my palm under my chin. "…that's if anyone even notices me behind the sequel to District 12's star-crossed lovers," I roll my eyes, giving her a look. At least it's a group of four, and not three. I don't think I'd be able to survive dealing with those two by myself.

<br><br>Then Kasha brings herself up, saying that the only way she'll get anything is through pity. It takes me only a second before I respond, the words falling quickly because I believe them. "Why would you want that?" I frown at her like she's insane. "Then you'd be out of luck." I know she's going to protest and say that she thinks she's weak or pathetic or something, but I dismiss it quickly. "Don't be crazy, Kasha." I talk to her the way I talked to Maisie when she would worry about me entering the games, me dying, shrugging things that could be true off as if they're really nothing. I don't want her thinking like that. Not because I think it'll weaken our group, but because…I just don't, all right?

<br><br>Suddenly, I see her eyes starting to water over like flooding pools in a deep oak forest, and I'm almost…something about it repels me, makes me feel sick in the stomach. I'm no good when it comes to crying. Doing it, or dealing with it. I remember a couple of months back, Rance was crying because he broke one of my tools. He wasn't afraid of getting punished, just ashamed because they're expensive and my tools are something personal and meaningful to me. I wasn't angry. I knew it was an accident. But I didn't know how to handle the situation, and I ended up being too hard on him to not cry about small things, and to suck it up. Don't even get me started on the times I've had to take care of Maisie when she was younger and still a little cry baby. My mother used to practically beat me over the head with a lantern for those incidents.

<br><br>That's why I get…all right, fine, I'll say it. Scared, when people cry. I'm the guy who had to cut himself off from all emotions once his father joined the dust of the quarry. I can't face tears, neither my own or someone else's. I stare back at Kasha, almost blankly, nothing comforting to say coming to mind. It's like when it comes these sort of tender moments, I'm equipped with only a hammer and pointed chisel. Things that drive deep, but destroy. Cut, and carve. I don't have bandages, no gauze, no medicine. I'm no healer.

<br><br>The hardest part of this is probably the fact that I can actually relate. I don't cry either, not usually. I did before Kasha barged into my room, but it wasn't like I was really falling apart in front of her. I was able to pull myself together, at least on the surface, with my usual biting sarcasm and snappy remarks. I didn't let myself cry in front of her, like she's doing right now. So I think I might know how she's feeling right now. Still, it doesn't help. I don't know what I could say that would console myself if I was in her shoes. I don't think there really is anything. We're tough kids, keeping our emotions bottled up because we don't have time to cry, but right now her bottle's spilled and overflowing, while my glass already exploded earlier.

<br><br>I bring my fist up towards my mouth, tense teeth going to bite down on the skin of my thumb as I stare at the space between us. What am I supposed to say? I wrench my hand away, actually cutting out a splinter of flesh in the process. A taste of metallic blood rushes into my mouth and finally, my hand moves on its own, grabbing her shoulder almost forcefully. "Stop that," I tell her, eyes as hard as granite, as serious as they have to be. "Stop." My thumb, still bleeding, runs over her skin, dividing a scar with crimson. "You've got it, okay? You're strong, Kasha, stronger than you know, and that's all that matters. Who cares about a little extra rain?"

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<BR>I chuckle a bit at his comment about getting noticed, taking a jab at our charming teammates. There's nothing wrong with them, I suppose, but they do get to go through this the easy way by being the offspring of a victor and sister of Katniss Everdeen, the most famous tribute to die in the Arena. I press my lips together and smile fondly towards him, "You'll be noticed, believe me. You're so big I don't think anyone can miss you." I tease him as a bright grin shines through. "You don't have a thing to worry about." Me, on the other hand, I didn't really know. I wasn't sure of the possibility of me standing out among my other teammates. It really was fortunate we were a team.

<br><br>My grin fades swiftly though, any cheer in my eyes falling back as he dismisses my words about pity helping me win over the sponsors. He even goes so far as to call me crazy. Doesn't he see it? I'm proud of who I am, but I know who I am, what I am. I'm from District 11, the poorest District, one that IS covered with Peacekeepers who will not hesitate to harm those who break the slightest of rules. I work my fingers to the bone to provide meals for the very people putting me in the Arena. I'm forced to take care of my many struggling siblings because I love them too much to put them into a wretched community home. I'm no Career, or a hunter, or some stunner. I am something to be pitied. Why doesn't he see that?

<br><br>"You're crazy." I mutter to him a bit sourly, smoothing out his bandages with my hands, just giving my fingers something to do, before I grab the still damp towel and lightly pat his bloody and bruised forehead, "I think you hit your head too hard." I huff as I tease him, adjusting my hand underneath the towel so that I can use a cleaner part of it. "You're sweet though." I sigh, a faint smile touching my lips as I wipe off the dried tears on his cheeks. I'm honestly not used to it. I can't remember the last time someone said something like that to me, told me to not think so low of myself, made me feel a little better than I am, and he wasn't even all that nice about it either, but it doesn't matter. He still did it.

<br><br>I really hate that I cried in front of him, that I broke. I know he did right before I came into the room, but still. It's just not what you do. Of course, I never get to cry at home. I could never let my siblings see that. I don't even have my own room to cry in. So, I built up a wall, one which allows me to carry on in a quiet and stoic fashion. However, too much pressure can cause a wall to crack, and finding yourself forced into a thing such as the Games can shatter even your strongest walls.

<br><br>I'm afraid of his reaction. I know how guys can be when it comes to crying, and sometimes it really can't be good. He shocks me though, as I suddenly find his large hand engulfing my frail shoulder, causing me to snap my head up and stare into his stone-like eyes, heart pounding harder as he scolds me. He doesn't do just that though. He assures me of my strength, and that my tears are okay. He makes me feel confident in myself, that maybe I really can do this, that I'll make it to the end with the rest of my teammates. My bottom lip quivers as I nod, my eyes searching his face, unable to believe he's being so good to me. When was the last time someone cared about me, in a way where I felt safe and taken care of, instead of me making someone else feel that way? I like the feeling. I like the way he makes me feel.

<br><br>I soon bring my eyes down to his hand, and I see the blood. "Oh, you. You just can't stop hurting yourself, can you?" I smile a little as I take his hand and hold the towel over his thumb with some pressure, not bothering to wipe the blood off of my shoulder. After a moment I pull it away to see that the little nick isn't bleeding anymore. "All better." I whisper with a warm smile reaching my eyes before I look up at his face, admiring it for a second before I slowly lean in and kiss him gingerly upon the cheek, allowing my lips to linger there. "Thank you for being so kind to me, Ashlar." I whisper before I pull away, my hands absentmindedly clasping his as I sit there, not wanting to go despite the late hour. I'd rather not sleep on my own. I've never had to before.
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SKINNED BY ALISON WONDERLAND OF ATF.