I don't board this ship, but Grace does. Happy belated birthday! (Sorry this is so late.) This is also for her oneshot/drabble-dedication prize.
For the Dictionary Challenge 2013 (Hunger Games ::: Competitions and Character Chat)
"The girl from five and the girl from seven," Cashmere says, "will die in the bloodbath, for sure."
She puts her feet on the table. "None of the tributes seem special."
"But there's the girl from twelve," Gloss interrupts.
"No, twelve never wins," Cashmere responds with an airy wave of her hand. "Fancy costumes mean nothing."
"Watch her," Gloss repeats, rolling his eyes. "And the boy from eleven." He pauses for a moment. "And watch two."
"Which one from two?" Marvel asks, wiping his sweaty palms against his pants.
"Both of them."
"Even the girl?"
"Especially her. Never try to fight against her when you're alone."
Cashmere snorts and goes back to grooming her hair.
Marvel leans against a wall, bored with everybody, everything.
To remedy his boredom, he looks around the room for the weaklings. His eyes rest on the male from twelve. He looks useless.
Well, he looks useless until he throws some heavy things around the room. Then he looks only somewhat useless.
He looks at two. Gloss may have (only may have) been correct.
Marvel settles his gaze on the dummies. He traces their contours with his eyes, not really sure about what he's doing but doing it anyway.
He blinks when a flickering light slams against the target nearest to him. Lazily, he shifts his gaze and meets that of a girl, more specifically, the girl from two.
She stares at him with a smirk. A challenge?
She twirls another knife in her hands, questioning him. Yes, definitely a challenge.
Marvel sits on the roof, against the wind. He doesn't know why he has come up here, but he doesn't particularly care about that either.
Blue against black.
A nice shade, Marvel thinks.
It might look lovelier on her face.
He doesn't know why, but challenging her to a friendly combat suddenly seems like the best idea in the world.
"Kisses don't make sense when against the nature of the games. Why?" Clove gasps, her breaths coming in heaves.
Marvel kisses her again, and she obliges.
Why? She doesn't exactly know.
"We can't both win. You know that, right?"
Marvel smiles sardonically. "I know."
He's not sure if he wants to be her protection against the rest of the tributes, or if he wants her to be his protection. He's not sure what he wants.
"Would you hold it against me if I killed you?" Clove asks, her expression frighteningly fierce.
Marvel pauses in thought.
"Well, I wouldn't be alive to, would I?"
"Am I worth it?" Clove looks desperate. "Is this worth it?"
"Weighing life against living, I'm not so sure."
Marvel, ever so honest.
"Do you think it'd be against the rules to have two pairs of star-crossed lovers in the arena at once?"
Clove starts to sneer and then stops. She smiles instead (and Marvel's heart flutters, because it's the first time he's seen her smile - damn it all). "Do you really care about the rules?"
It's a good thing that Marvel never saw Clove's head smashed against that rock.
It might have (just might have) broken his heart.
Thank you for reading.