☠Bonnie Everheartte☠
NO ENTRY
☠Bellona Viellana☠
Broken promises do nothing but remind one of failure.
Bellona Viellana finds that promises—whether they be shared in the dark, between two souls with intertwined pinky fingers, or whether shared in plain daylight, between a group of people with interlocked hands—come at a cost. Prices vary between deals, and debts move with the repercussions. She has always been willing to pay the highest price, to go broke for the people in whom she believes. Through her family, she is wealthy; and through her promises, she is invaluable.
She is a girl of her word: she is a girl of pinkies and palms, of promises.
No matter her nature, however, not everyone is like her. Not everyone follows through with their deals, not everyone puts honesty and truth behind their words and intentions.
Not everyone keeps their promises. She has learned this the hard way, but that does not mean it doesn't sting when promises are broken time and time again, that it doesn't hurt when she is stabbed in the back—always the back, because she never sees it coming.
She rubs her eyes dry, promising herself that this second time around, she will see everything coming, she will see everything thrown at her; she will see behind the deceit of tributes and the skullduggery of the Gamemakers. She will see everything the beguiling arena has to offer, because she has enough of everything to be able to bargain and barter.
As the wind continues to billow around her and ruffle the thick curls of her ponytail, she shivers, but it has nothing to do with the arctic air that nips every inch of exposed skin. The very arena itself is what is sending chills down her spine, making every bit of hair on her body stand pin straight, making her stay frozen in place—not that she would risk moving, either way.
Not counting the past two weeks, Bellona doesn't know how long it has been since she was last alive. She doesn't know how much time has passed since she was standing on an identical pedestal, examining the miles of familiar terrain surrounding her. She doesn't know how much time has passed since all her promises were still intact in the beginning and then broken within hours.
When was it that I told Momma and Pops I'd come back to then? When was it that I told Maize and Nox I'd be cautious and self-preserving? When was it that I told myself I'd keep my promises to them and to the others and to myself?
When was it since I've stood here last?
Perhaps only a few days have passed, or maybe a few thousand years have come and gone since Bellona has been situated on a pedestal, gazing at a frozen wasteland. It is when she theorizes that if the arena is the same, that she realizes some of the tributes must be the same. Her eyes automatically move from the distant ponds with overlooking icicles, and go to the tributes. She scans each person, looking for distinct features that clue her in.
With only thirty seconds remaining on the clock, it becomes extremely difficult to find a girl with raven colored hair and electric blue eyes, to find a boy with light brown hair and amber eyes. It feels impossible to find her allies in this sea of tributes, especially when a little less than half are blocked by a massive boulder of ice, but it truly becomes impossible when no one looks familiar. However, regaining focus on the time that remains on the clock—twenty seconds—she formulates a basic strategy to get her to at least one of the wooden boxes that surround the block, get out of the inevitable Bloodbath, and find her allies.
