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...
It mattered not that one was born into gold or copper, silk or hay. It mattered not that one was a slave to dictators, forced to beat their bodies black and blue simply to make them grin sickly. It mattered not that one held a whip in their hands, tainted with the flesh, skin, and blood from the victim whose back was torn apart. It mattered not whether one resided in the Capitol alongside the tyrant or the District alongside the fallen.
The death of the Chimera distressed three the most, regrettably yet thankfully one less than the fall of the lovely Angel as no one should ever suffer such an untouchable ache. Naya had never truly known Slate; they were just as good as strangers. But that did not apply to the rest of the Barone family. While two leaned on each other as they mourned and shattered at the death of their eldest, one laid on grime and dirt with her body crippled and life slipping. All three's faces were splotched with red patches and tears, but the lone one was bursting angry boils that seemed to want to rupture with the slightest touch.
It was just like six years ago. Only now, one child remained.
"We'll be okay. We will."
He had said that the night before the d-day. They were never meant to be okay. Ever since the death or Oro Barone, tragedy and breaking were set in stone like the Sword of Excalibur. Only for them, there was no one destined to pull it out of the pit of impossible, no one to pave a new for them. They themselves were too helpless to change it, hands ties and eyes might as well be blindfolded.
Agate Barone breathed shallow breaths as her crusted eyes squinted under the stark sun. Sound had long left her, but not the quivering of her body. Electric blue turned dull and drab—glossed over with a pale and solemn grey that removed anything bright and lively. The numbness finally came and the girl held on to it, afraid that if she let go, the pain would return in an unstoppable hurricane that destroyed everything in its path.
A chant repeated in her head—alone, you are alone. The pathetic picture of Enobaria and Brutus standing as guards on her side as she buried her face in her arms or as she shut her eyes so tightly that red dots, that reminded her of blood, invaded the vast darkness did not come true.
