𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐒𝐊𝐔𝐋𝐋 ──
❛ they all said they do
not cower before death,
but when the reaper, the
personification of death
visited their souls, they
always kneeled, praying
and begging for time. ❜
· . ° ✎
the hunger games began in
xvi . iii . m...
The sun was still high. Murky blue and white seafoam in a gentle dance, pushed to and fro by the constant breeze and perhaps artificial paddle that laid deep underground. Fanned leaves were scattered over the Cornucopia's island, remnants of white fish with char scars resting on top. It was beautiful—the sky, albeit the stark scorch of the sun. Every shade of light blue like old friends in perfect harmony, like a symphony orchestrated by the best composer. Warm tinges of yellow and pure white overlapped into the baby-blue as the sun was merciless. Swirls of wispy clouds moved slowly across the horizon.
Slate and Agate sat with the crashing waves alone. Brutus, the ever-so-stoic, and Enobaria voiced no complaints as they wandered off to the other side. Their blue eyes stared off emptily into the distance, looking over the lush forest and as far as their sights could reach. Gazes unfocused, the whole picture came out blurred despite the lines of change being clear.
The scratched and bruises that colored their bodies had long disappeared since a healing salve was gifted by Sidero alongside four large flasks, filled to the brim with crisp water. However, its contents had been sucked halfway out of thirst. Sweat replaced the saltwater that had evaporated off, gathering where the skin folds the most and on their hairlines. Alarming red gathered on their skins, sunburns not giving a chance to tans. Clumps of hair stuck to the nape of their necks or foreheads, salty sweat holding them in place as if it was hairspray.
Agate clutched her flask tightly in her trembling hands, as did Slate. They watched and heard the mechanic claws come and go, each time scooping up a battered body—some on the rocky and grey lands, others out of the inky waters, and one from the thick and dark forest.
With every body that was lifted, terror intruded her mind and shook her bones. What if the next one took Slate? She didn't use to be afraid—she was supposed to be fearless and unhesitating, but reality was something one could never escape. Her life was something Agate was not afraid to lose if it meant that her brother made this out alive yet the choice had never been truly hers.
Now, sitting with their backs hunched and guards down, Brutus and Enobaria could simply kill them from behind and they would not be able to fight back. Throwing knives would dig through their bodies and disrupt the peace in the system. They didn't. The tributes from District Two were just as desperate as they were.
