A Circus of Eagles [An HG Fanfic]

Serious - Titan

I sneak a glance at him, trying not to make it obvious that I'm watching. He's practically bursting out of his clothes, all bulging shoulders and thick calves, and he should exude testosterone, except he doesn't. Most of the time he hunches over as if he'd rather be less noticeable. He's doing it now. He's back on the counting, mouthing the numbers as if he can't do it otherwise. When he's not counting he's staring into space, pale, eyes sliding away from any of the weapons.

He might be bigger than me, but at least I don't go to pieces at having to kill people.

"Then who do you like?"

"Nobody." He shrugs, a movement which starts somewhere in the mountain of his shoulders and ripples right down his arms, finally ending somewhere near his wrists. "But I'm familiar with the idea."

He's joking. He's got to be joking. The boy looks like one massive bag of hormones - though I know some of the Health+ guys and that doesn't mean that they're actually legal hormones, if you know what I mean - and there's no way you get to nineteen without wanting to rip someone's clothes off at some point. I'm less than a year older than him and...

But that was before...

"You asked me a question," he says. "You actually asked me a question that wasn't about yourself."

"I'm just that bored."

"Sleep."

We both look at each other and laugh. The sound bounces back at us from the rocky walls of the Cornucopia, making it feel smaller. And I'm not faking it. It's genuine, feel-good laughter, right here in the middle of the Games. Sleep. As if.

"We could play a game," I suggest. "Hey, Thalia!"

Her head pops around the corner of the Cornucopia, illuminated by pale moonlight. Her face appears longer, her nose stretched out, her eyes small and narrow, and in her hand the sword is ready. She says she worries that just because she can pretend to do something doesn't mean she can do it, but so far she's stayed calm and composed. That old Platinum saying: fake it 'till you make it. Unless it was her who was crying this afternoon. It was definitely a girl. But Thalia is an actress, a live-event actress. I think. She should be good at hiding that sort of thing.

I grin at her. She gives me a look that I can't interpret. Caitlin is openly provocative, jokes about me and Columbia so that even if I'd hoped to avoid it I couldn't, but Thalia is quieter and keeps her opinions to herself. If we hadn't run into her at the knife throwing station, I doubt she'd be here at all.

When she makes a run for it, I won't care.

"What is it, Titan? Only I'm doing a job here."

Pah. It's nighttime. The others will either be sleeping or they'll be frozen with cold. In here it's warm, but I've had to go outside to piss and let me tell you, I thought I was going to get frostbite in some very uncomfortable places. I pat the crate next to me out of habit to let her know that in Titan Iliant's world this isn't a valid excuse. She wrinkles her nose.

"So say the Games is over..."

Sylvester is sneaking backwards as unobtrusively as he can, counting packets of dried currants even though he must have counted them at least ten times already. Thalia raises her eyebrows but doesn't interrupt.

"Don't give me that. So say the Games is over and the re-enactments are up and running."

"Here?"

"Here." This is more like it. A proper conversation, where I'm not having to pause and wait for the other person to think for a few seconds every time they have to say something. A nice distraction, if Columbia isn't around. "Yeah, other people traipsing around here pretending to be us. Who plays you?"