Two choices:
Live and die in District 12 like her parents or Run and hide for the rest of her life, leaving everything she has known behind including her only friends.
Carina chose a third option and became someone else, abandoning who she was and...
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Sunlight collided against the intricate floral metal and glass roof of the solarium at Sarto manor. Prismatic light casted a pretty shadow on the white metal table and bathed the two lone almost strangers in its deceptively pretty cloud.
Screeech. Screech. Screeeeech.
Unconsciously, Hestia scratched the metal table while her attention was on the sheets of paper in front of her. An ugly sound of nails meeting metal echoed through the mostly quiet solarium, interrupting the happy chirps of the birds outside.
Cinna looked up in concern, his eyes instantly being drawn to Hestia's actions. He pursed his lips and wondered whether or not he should bring the young girl's attention to her unconscious habit. It was a little grating on his ears and disrupting his focus.
Before the curtain of silence had fallen, they had laid out their fashion sketches in front of them, and were deep in discussion about the details of their designs for the 74th Hunger Games. But suddenly Hestia had gone quiet once he mentioned how he wanted Twelve to have a fighting chance.
It had been a few months since they had last seen each other, and they were both eager to share their ideas. The Reaping had yet to pass and Cinna had more ideas than usual, his mind was buzzing with inspiration yet Hestia had been quiet as ever.
He cleared his throat and looked up to stare at Hestia. His partner was too engrossed in the sketches to notice his gaze on her. "Hestia." He called out as Hestia glanced up lazily. He couldn't help but smile at how easily he could read her.
Screeech. Screech. Screeeeech.
A clear but subtle scrunched up smile with a furrowed brow and cold gaze that could freeze the warmest of people, Hestia didn't like working with Cinna at all. Yet she was there, allowing him into her home and letting him sit at the same table as her. He didn't understand her.
She didn't understand him either.
District 12 was a district where hope died everyday on many different days in many various ways. At least that's what she believed. Cinna was a hopeless fool, wasting his time with silly things that didn't make sense.
Screeech. Screech.
Her nails dug into a layer of white paint on the metal table before she dragged it back slowly, almost scrapping the layer of paint off. It was hopeless. 12 was hopeless. .
"Hestia." Cinna called out to her again, louder than before, only to be ignored again. "Hes–"
Screech. Scree—
Abruptly, she stopped scratching the table like the trance had been broken. "Hmm. Did you say something?" She asked, looking up from her own notebook.
He stared at her with furrowed brows and eyes full of concern. She only tilted her head to the side in confusion, her eyes opened wide as she lazily blinked before looking away. "Your...eyes..." He mumbled out. They were peculiar. "They're very unique."
