The Stars
Title: Innocence
Characters: Cuan, mentions everyone else
Word Count: 801
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games and the inspiration for these characters comes from another series entirely.
Notes: All about Pyro, I know. But at least some of the mystery is unraveling (and yes there is a coherent plot in this series of oneshots).
007: Innocence
The boy had a foul mouth and an equally foul and irate temper.
He was incredibly disrespectful towards those he was disgusted with and a polite brat to those he liked. Unlike most kids his age, he valued formalities over casual introductions and came to rational conclusions about difficult or unfamiliar subjects.
It was his curiosity that really attracted Cuan's attention, however. Most kids his age, and indeed most of the people in their District, could care less for scholarly activities. They were concerned about living, surviving, and struggling through life.
Cuan had seen the boy around long before he thought about recruiting him. He'd seen the boy at his first Reaping, a terrifying time (though he could hardly remember his own), but one that the boy faced with a steely glare and just the barest hint of nervous energy.
It was a truly honest display of emotions. Cuan had to congratulate him for that at least.
He wouldn't go as far as saying that the boy was completely innocent even back then when they first met, before he had been dragged down to their "level" as he put it. Just watching him from afar proved to Cuan that he wasn't a normal kid.
Of course, Cuan wasn't the type to attribute that "loss of innocence" to the death of the kid's family. Certainly, that had turned him bitter and angry at the world, but he couldn't consider it a major factor of that loss of childhood.
No, even before the kid's family died he had probably possessed a similar personality to the one he now expressed in volatile outbursts and passionate rants.
He was the type to hold true to his beliefs even if it started raining fire and the world was torn asunder. When they killed, he berated and scorned them, cursed their very existence (and his own).
And when they were at peace, quietly resting in the corner of some dilapidated building or in the house that was licensed under Penka's name but that they all frequented, he indulged in solemn talks about stories and history and science.
Cuan never believed for a moment that the boy didn't know at least an inkling of the cruel, ugly truth when they first met all those years ago. Those wide, honest green eyes that had gazed upon him and asked him in innocent curiosity whether or not the starts actually existed had to have known the truth.
And yet, when he asked, "If you hate killing so much, why did you join us?", the boy would reply, "Because I had no choice in the matter."
He was an enigma, yet at the same time so very transparent with his emotions. His anger shone passionately like the hot coals in a fireplace, the embers that sparked and crackled even in their dying breaths.
Sometimes his stubbornness knew no bounds, his face of calm flying into one of absolute, unadulterated rage from one moment to the next.
Sometimes he would grown solemn and quiet, eyes unreadable, and he would commit to killing any target Cuan specified with coldblooded dignity.
And then afterwards he would scream and punch the wall until it or his fist gave out, but sometimes he did nothing at all, sometimes he was as carefree about the subject as any of them.
He got along with most of the others now, including Syarnark who had painstakingly weaved his way into the other boy's life until he was able to laugh and smile with the lot of them.
"It's like we're a family," he mused lightly one day, much to everyone's disdain and disapproval.
"What?!" Haakon screeched, swinging a dented metal rod at the boy without reserve. The blond danced out of the way with a scowl.
"I refuse to be any part of this," Sche demanded.
"Family? But there's too many of us…" Matiy said in confusion.
"Family units used to be quite large," Syarnark tried to explain uselessly. "Not just parents and siblings."
"We look nothing alike, so it wouldn't work," said Penka.
"Pyro, go die," Faiz intoned in a deadpan, absolutely serious voice.
"Why don't you go die in a ditch?" the boy snapped back.
He never spoke about the real family he no longer had, but everything about him seemed so genuine and so bright that Cuan would find it hard to believe that he was anything different even when they were alive.
He was the youngest of them, surely the most argumentative at times, and was infuriatingly set in his morals. And yet he got along with everyone else just fine. He'd joined them knowing about their deeds.
Cuan stared at him sometimes and thought that the little boy he had taken in all those years ago really had not been so innocent at all.