The Stars
Title: Gray
Characters: Cuan, Pyro
Word Count: 799
Warnings: Cuan is weird.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games and the inspiration for these characters comes from another series entirely.
Notes: Finally thought of something for "Gray". Took long enough.
019: Gray
There existed a mineral dark as night, nearly black, and formed from volcanic ashes to create a sharp blade precise enough to make fine surgical cuts. Cuan had never seen it except in old, washed out pictures in a book he owned about minerals and rocks and gems.
Its surface was pitch black, sleek, and surprisingly brittle. It shone, glinted.
But if "black" was truly not a color, as some speculated, then that dark stone could be nothing but the darkest shade of grey. Darker, or at least more beautiful, than charcoal or artificial black.
Cuan desired beautiful things. It was a well known fact that he sought out whatever beautiful objects he could find in their dismal District. His homes were littered with useless trinkets, decaying books, and whatever else suited him at the time.
He wanted to possess that stone - or, rather, it was a piece of glass. Like the stained glass vase he once owned, only to throw away when he grew bored of it.
He wanted to possess it because it was beautiful, because it originated from such a deadly source. The same volcano that spewed dense grey debris across the continent could also produce such a beautiful mineral.
They once called it "obsidian". Now no one would know its name.
Pyro had caught him staring at an old picture of it in a book. The boy glanced at him with clear green eyes - eyes he could have possessed at some point if he so wished - and asked him why he was concerned with a piece of rock.
"It's not a rock," he said simply, handing the book over to the boy.
Pyro huffed as he skimmed the entry. He then looked up at Cuan, staring him in the eyes, and deduced, "It's like your eyes. Black."
"There's no such thing as black eyes, or black glass," Cuan said patiently, tugging the book from his hands. It was old and tattered along the edges, but most of the pages within were intact. Apparently geology was not a popular subject to read about long ago. It had survived in some lonely corner of the world and Cuan had bought it off someone for a certain sum.
"It's as black as your soul."
"I didn't know you were so poetic."
Pyro snarled and turned away, his back hunched as he nibbled ferociously at a piece of bread. It was stale, even though they could afford better food. It was always better for people to assume less of you, so they dealt with the less than savory selection. Pyro never seemed to mind. In fact, he always struggled whenever Cuan or Syarnark wanted to treat themselves to something tastier.
"You are aware that there are many shades of color in this world?" Cuan said, getting up to sit next to the boy despite his protests. "There is an endless amount of colors, although some would argue that black is not among them. Still, the human eye can assume only a fraction of these colors. Even then, it is quite limited.
"Our eyes can be grey, brown, blue, and green. They can also be hazel - something in between, or even gold and red. But not black."
"People can have red eyes? Or gold, for that matter?" Pyro asked dubiously. Cuan could hear the curiosity on the tip of his tongue, and indulged the boy with a sly smile.
"It's called albinism. And yes, it is possible. Rare, but possible." Cuan paused, glancing out the grimy window. The sky above was darker than usual, which meant rain was on the way.
Pyro moved away, reaching for the blankets gathered at the foot of the couch. It was their makeshift bed half the time, given that the apartment only had one room and the cot in the corner had recently been devoted to holding clothes and books. The couch was closer to the heater, though, and body heat could only do so much when Pyro was so intent on kicking him in their sleep.
"Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to collect all the colors in the world. To see all those beautiful colors together."
Pyro faced him abruptly, staring at him like he'd grown two massive, fire breathing heads.
"You're not still talking about eyes, are you?"
"Oh, no. Of course not," Cuan said with deliberate slowness. Pyro stared at him long and hard before giving up, shivering briefly as he went about his business.
Cuan often stared at those eyes of his - those clear green eyes that might as well have been red and lit aflame for all the times they ignited in fury. It reminded him of another pair of eyes he'd once seen, a woman's dark, forested green ones, and he smiled faintly to himself.
Yes. Cuan is creepy. Yes. They do sleep with each other. Not in that way, mind you. Probably.