Quote from last week: "So for the duration of the summer (and probably the story) you can expect to see chapters coming out pretty rapidly now."
I know, I know: I suck. Apparently my life never stops being busy with something, haha. For those of you who don't know I was vacationing in California for a while (which by the way WAS AWESOME. Anyone living in the Santa Monica area just know that I hate you out of pure unprecedented jealousy) and since I've been home I've been occupying my time with friends and work and all that other nonsense… so to say the least making the time to write this has been a challenge. But finally it is complete!
So you all probably know what's coming up in this chapter (well for the first part atleast… heh heh hehhh ;)). I just wanted to make a little note that I wrote the Katniss-hidden-in-a-tree-Career interaction with the entire scene from the book nearly word to word in my mind: including the parts where the careers weren't given specific dialogue. For example: "She heard them rummaging through the girl's stuff and from the sound of it they found nothing good," or "an argument then broke out that was silenced by the others."
And as usual, once again I have a million thank you's to make: First to Lunatic9289 who continues to work hard on translating this story. Also to ihopeitsbeautiful who was kind enough to promote this story on her blog and make such nice comments (which she didn't tell me about and I saw on my own from about a month ago!) To gkmoberg1 who has provided me with some detailed editing on one of the chapters. And finally, as usual, to every last one of you who reads this. Your feedback and loyalty to this story not only makes me extremely happy but keeps me going. As usual this is all for you guys!
Once again I'm going to promo my blog because I am currently addicted to tumblr and I love following people (particularly ones who post plenty of HG gifs I can laugh at. Yeah I know I'm lame, whatever.)
You can find me at andastasia . tumblr
Ooooooooooooooooooh boy I cannot WAIT to hear your feedback on this one. I've had parts of this chapter planned out for awhilleeee. So please review! I want to hear everyone's opinion, including those of you who haven't given yours before.
"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."
- Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, Aphorism 146
11.
Clove stared at Eight's lifeless body.
The excitement she felt as she killed the girl had been overwhelming. But it dissipated almost as rapidly as it appeared; especially considering the incredible agony she released in her screams. Why? Her death wasn't slow or long but it was brutal. And yet there Clove stood, still holding the blade, red with the girl's blood, not feeling anything except the cavity the exhilaration had torn from her chest when it left. She tried to connect small details about the body sprawled out before her with what she just had done; the trickle of blood that ran past the girl's pale lips, the gnarled flesh of her abdomen that opened to reveal the a deep grayish-blue bulge that poked it's head out from torn skin- perhaps her liver or esophagus. But none of it helped. She could have been staring at a rock. She felt empty, hollow, and just nothing. Nothing! Why did she feel nothing?
Around her, the rest of them were cheering. Another dead tribute meant that they were all one step closer to winning the games. But Clove still couldn't bring herself to truly care about winning, despite what she had said to Lyme; all she cared about were her kills. Only they were beginning satisfy her less and less, and so far she had only killed four. Frustration suddenly welled up in her stomach at the thought that all this time she had been waiting, and yet murder was nowhere near as lingering of a sensation as she had expected. When it happened, it happened, and when the victim died, it was over.
So perhaps she would need to extend the length of time they got to stay alive. Perhaps she shouldn't finish off the next so quickly.
But even still in the end you'll be left feeling nothing, said a voice.
Angrily, a different part of her pushed the voice from her thoughts. She didn't want to think about that; the possibility that no matter how much blood she shed, no matter how much she destroyed, in the end she would still be completely hollow. She hadn't waited all these years to come to that conclusion.
Cato's loud whoops and bursts of rough laughter that rung painfully in her ears only further added to her agitation. She wanted nothing more than to punch him until Glimmer shouted, "Twelve down and eleven to go!" with her teeth gleaming white as she smiled. This ushered in another round of cheers. Clove clenched her fists.
The only two who didn't cheer were Lover Boy and Marvel; Lover Boy seemed to be awfully focused on his arm wound, whereas Marvel, as apathetic and pretentious as always, only looked mildly disgusted as he used the end of his spear to poke the fleshy bulge spilling from the girl's opened stomach.
"Repulsive," he sniffed. He then used the weapon to lift the girl's discarded pack, lest he should actually have to bend down near the body himself. His nose lifted as he rummaged through it. "A roll of bandages, some matches- clearly that didn't work well in her favor-" he said, pausing to chuckle.
"Nothing useful," Marvel declared while tossed the pack aimlessly to the ground and unintentionally smacking it against the girl's lifeless face.
"Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking," Cato sneered.
The rest of them began to move ahead but Clove took a moment to stay back and give the body one last chance to rouse some emotion out of her. But all it seemed to do was drag forth an image in her mind's eye of the hole Cato had punched into their wall the night the training scores were revealed. For some reason this ushered in an incredible wave of anxiety, shortly followed by irritation.
A billow of fog exited her mouth as she huffed in the cold. Then, she stomped off after the flickering orange flame of Cato's torch, not wanting to fruitlessly search the gawking, stupid expression of the dead girl any longer.
The woods were now bathed in the mystical blue light of the oncoming dawn. They trekked past trees with white bark and a few scurrying rabbits, but when they neared a cluster of thick trunks Glimmer asked, "Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?"
"I'd say yes," said Marvel as he ducted to avoid a low hanging branch. "Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately."
Glimmer then turned over her shoulder and allowed her emerald eyes to lay on Clove. "Unless she isn't dead," Glimmer smiled.
Clove gritted her teeth, taking her statement as an insult to her ability. She was a professional killer, clearly more skilled than Glimmer; this was shown by both her ten and could be seen just from sheer observation. The nerve she had to suggest otherwise. This only added onto her heightened amount of irritation.
"She's dead. I stuck her myself," she snapped.
Marvel was slowing his pace and looking back now. "Someone should go back. Make sure the job's done," he said. At his words, the rest of them began to do the same.
"Yeah, we don't to have to track her down twice," Marina agreed.
Clove pursed her lips. "I said she's dead!" she shouted, halting completely at the rear of the group and glowering at them all. She knew how to kill. She had gotten the girl in the ribs and cut enough of her inners. She was dead.
"Then where's the cannon?" Glimmer taunted. Her sneer was unbearable to look at. Blood instantly began to rush to Clove's face and the colors of her vision were shifting away from the dim blue of the surrounding forest.
"Clearly she isn't dead if there isn't a cannon," Marvel sighed from somewhere beside his partner, but Clove could only see Glimmer's smile. That condescending, pompous smile that was about to get a knife shoved straight through its lips and down into throat they concealed.
"Do cannons sound as soon as they die?" Marina's voice traveled from somewhere.
"I'm not sure. We can find out though," Clove snarled as her hand traveled down into her jacket to pull out a knife. She would need a heavy one, one that would be large enough to cleave through the mountain of arrogance Glimmer held behind that now constricted face. She looked like she was about to say something in response when suddenly Lover Boy piped up.
"We're wasting time," he shouted, his voice saturated in frustration. "I'll go finish her off and let's move on!"
Clove turned to him now. She wanted to scream for the last time that the girl was dead and that even if she wasn't she would bleed out anyway. But instead Cato, who only looked amused, said, "Go on, then, Lover Boy. See for yourself."
As Lover Boy moved past her she felt a spike of anger at his immediate closeness. He just thought he was so God damned noble didn't he? She was growing rather tired of it. When the light of his torch was far behind them she snapped in a hushed breath, "Why don't we just kill him now and get it over with?"
"Let him tag along," Marina whispered, and then added quickly. "What's the harm? He's handy with that knife."
For a moment Clove wasn't sure what she was talking about. But then she recalled how, after the fight at the Cornucopia, Marina had pulled a limp body off Lover Boy.
"Besides, he's our best chance of finding her," Cato said and as he did a dark smile spread on his lips and he seemed to fall away from them, lost in what Clove was sure was a fantasy of killing Katniss. He was right, though. No matter how strenuous the temptation may be she couldn't kill Lover Boy, at least not until they got the girl. Even if they didn't find her, perhaps she would find them and be lured to him.
Marina crossed her arms at Cato's words. "Why?" she huffed. "You think she bought into all that sappy romance stuff?"
Her pursed lips seemed to say something her words did not.
"She might have," Marvel said. "Every time I think about her spinning around in that dress I want to puke."
"Wish we knew how she got that Eleven," Glimmer said, eyeing Clove for only a moment more before shifting her gaze to the rest of them.
"Bet you Lover Boy knows," Cato smiled. As he did, the corners of his lips were as sharp as blades.
The morning wind carried her voice, the cold chill almost stinging Peeta's cheeks as he approached her now dying body.
"I make dresses with my mother. We work together. We really depend on each other- for supplies and talent, I mean. My talent is more in tapering and embroidery. Hers is in creating patterns. I could never create patterns like her."
Only two nights before, the same girl Peeta just watched Clove mutilate had said this to Caesar Flickerman while she nervously played with a stray curl beneath the harsh lights of the Capitol. Peeta had paid particular attention to her interview- maybe because he had a special weakness for pretty faces. He could remember thinking how radiant she looked that night- the soft blue tulle of her gown complementing her sunny hair (in her interview she was able to tell Caesar nearly everything about the dress she wore as if she had made it herself). He could also remember how she tried to keep her voice even as she spoke of her mother- the mother who depended on her, the mother who she depended on; and he wasn't so foolish as to believe that it was only for supplies and talent. Maybe the Capitol was, but he wasn't.
Now of course she laid face up on the ground so they could all watch her bleed out; the Capitol, her district, and her mother.
The closer he got the more he realized just how alive she still was. The girl must have either been in shock or just holding still as Clove glowered at her. Because now he could see how she shook, how her hands made small movements to touch the blood and muscles that spewed from her stomach. A small beetle was making his way to her open wound, coming very close whatever tissue it was that peaked from beneath the mutilated red flesh. Peeta took a deep breath and shut his eyes to compose himself.
Gently, as if sudden movement would cause her even more pain, he knelt down beside her. Her face was expressionless, her eyes absent as they stared ahead into nothing. But she was still alive. Her breaths were rapid and harsh. Without looking fully at the gore beneath her chest, he plucked the beetle away.
Of all the things he could recall from this girl's interview, he couldn't draw forth her name. It was something lovely, maybe Ella or perhaps Anna. But he just couldn't remember. He hated himself for forgetting.
Peeta knew he couldn't take too long; the others were waiting and he wouldn't be able to stand thinking too deeply into what the girl's life could have been if she had never left her home; if she had never left behind her sewing needles and the pots of flowers she grew by her window, mostly daises in the summer, sometimes lilies in spring- or if she had never left her mother.
But he had some things he had to say. The most important came first.
"I'm sorry, this happened," he whispered as touched her cheek. He wasn't sure if she could hear. Even if she couldn't, this wasn't just for her. This was for the Game Makers because he knew at least they were watching. This would never make it to the rest of Panem or anyone who knew this girl back in Eight. But he wanted them to hear him, see her and see what they had done.
"I'm sorry I let her do this to you. I'm sorry-" his breath suddenly hitched. He took a deep inhale and very rapidly, anger washed over him. It wasn't anger toward Clove; although all this time it had been she who was the real monster. He thought it was Cato, but it was the boys very aggression that blinded him to the true nature of his district partner who didn'tcare to make sure they were all looking when she killed, who didn't feel the need to remind them how dangerous she was because her motivation to murder was for nothing else but her own consummation. The girl was mentally ill, Peeta could see it in her eyes. He hated her and he feared her- but he also pitied her. She was sick.
But she wasn't what brought them all here and forced them to fight to the death.
His thoughts were silenced immediately when Eight's cold hand touched his own. Maybe she heard, maybe she understood. Not once in his life had the world been more silent. For just a moment he said his own silent goodbye by leaning down and kissing the girl's forehead.
Then he clenched her nose and held her mouth shut. She struggled at first but eventually her faint movements stopped, signaling her death. This was the first person he had ever killed and if he managed to have his way through this, she would be the only.
He walked away without shutting her eyes because he wanted the nation to see the question they still asked even in death.
"Was she dead?" said Cato who looked utterly bemused when he approached. Peeta kept his expression controlled.
"No, but she is now," he said. The rough boom of the cannon followed.
Peeta could have sworn it was louder than usual.
Cato continued to grit his teeth together long after they had returned to the Cornucopia.
The entire day had gone by and they found no one, not a single tribute. He was angry and on edge from hours of unsatisfied anticipation- he needed a release he would not get for at least another day. He considered perhaps going off into the woods on his own. He considered just attacking one of the others too, perhaps killing off the boy from Three whose job was still nowhere near finished. Somehow he managed to settle on watching Clove.
She sat across the fire from him, whipping an already clean knife on her shirt and staring- or rather glaring at the others as they set up tents. The violent glint in her eye told him she was just as pissed off as he was. And those thin lips were made thinner by the way she rolled them between her teeth.
But she had no fucking reason to be angry. He gave her his kill today. He could have just taken that one for himself. He probably would have if he knew how dry the day was going to be. What irritated him even more was the memory of Glimmer's eyes growing wide after Clove had torn her knife through the girl or Marina taking a few steps back. Unlike him, Clove cared little for the fear the others held for her. She didn't appreciate it in the way that he did. For this reason he didn't even think she deserved it.
He decided he didn't desire to watch her any longer.
She didn't look at him as he slid in the vacant spot beside her. Cato hated apathy- especially her particular brand. He wanted to rip her by the braids from where she sat and hold her face over the fire to let it char her skin and fill the night air with her screams. He could see it- her arms as they wiggled madly and her hunched over shoulders as they thrashed from the pain. But for some reason instead of imagining the screams he could only hear that chilling laughter of hers ring through his ears.
For a while they said nothing to each other and the silence coaxed him to watch the others as she did. Fatigue slowed them as they moved mechanically to get their remedial tasks done. They spoke words full of nothingness to one another, they didn't even seem to know or care that they were being watched. Cato hated them; truthfully he hated all people. But he understood the importance of respect and intimidation. Even here in the arena there was a hierarchy and he would be damned if he wasn't at the top of it. This was something he knew his district partner didn't care for. She was entirely antisocial; never speaking casually, only interacting with others when she had to and even then there was still an unshakable darkness about her. While he hated people he knew with resentment that he still needed them. Clove on the other hand would have preferred to live in this world alone.
"Which one first?" he asked to humor her.
She didn't look at him and he didn't look at her, but from the corner of his eye she saw her own narrow. He knew what she was doing- along with having an almost unbelievable indifference in human interaction she was extremely cynical. Though he was sure it wasn't because she was guarding some hidden emotion- he could tell hers didn't run deep. What she seemed to be guarding was nothing more than her physical being, cautious to be rendered vulnerable for attack. There was a lot about her that was entirely primordial. Others couldn't see this the way he could. He didn't know how fearful she was of pain or death. He didn't know if there was anything she was afraid of.
Eventually she curled her lips and said, "I want Glimmer."
He wasn't sure if he liked that idea. He had sketched out a plan to truly make something wonderful of Glimmer. Though Clove, he decided, could probably do better with her knives on a tribute so beautiful.
"Then I get Lover Boy," he snapped back, leaving no room for negotiation.
"Not until we find her," Clove hissed.
"And she'll be mine too," he said.
Her lips tightened. Clearly she disagreed. But nothing would sway him. The Girl on Fire was his. She deserved excoriating pain only he could give her. The slice of a knife stung but the tearing of skin was nothing like the shattering of bone. Clove wouldn't win this. He sneered.
"What gives you the right to kill her?" she snarled beneath her breath.
Cato lowered his face to hers so she couldn't break from his stare, but she didn't even seem to try. Her black eyes burned hard into his. He hated those eyes. They were too dark, too blank. They displayed nothing.
"Because I can," he said. She should know what he meant. That he would take whatever he declared his. There was no diplomacy when it came to what he wanted. She could fight him for the girl but Cato knew she wouldn't. Clove may have wanted her blood but he was sure it wasn't quite in the same way he did.
Her eyes continued to bear into him, so he didn't move. Instead to spite her, he exhaled a breath onto her lips. Her reaction was just as slight; a flare of her nostril, a twitch in her mouth- but it still caused a wicked grin to spread across his face. He wanted her to attack but instead she broke her stare away from him.
"I want the rest of them then," she said. He knew she was talking about their alliance, but they would see just how many he would allow her to get in the end.
He focused on the others again as they began to settle down. Lover Boy and District Four were nearest them, working together to finish setting up a tent. Glimmer was sitting with crossed legs on a barrel, opening a packet of food. The Insect, who didn't get a tent, hovered a good distance away from the rest of them. Marvel had rolled out his sleeping bag and was lounging on it with arms behind his head and eyes closed, his foot draped lazily over his knee.
"I'm going to get creative," Clove said to him, almost spitefully.
As if he couldn't.
Perhaps his specialties in breaking and severing weren't quite as intricate and delicate as her talent, but he could still make his victims into something wonderful. They had both been trained for years to perfect the art of slaughter- and it was indeed an art. There was a way to do it well. And no one in the arena besides them seemed to understand this. Not even the District One's or Four; when they killed it was quick and usually in the simplest way possible. They didn't relish it. Like him they too fought for the glory but for them there was nothing beyond that. His motivations to kill included glory but also preeminence and food for the fire inside him that desired to consume everything in its path. He was sure there was nothing more powerful than taking the lives of others- to strip away the one single thing that marked their very existence and leave them with absolutely nothing. How anyone else couldn't be entirely elated by such a feeling seemed unfathomable to him. And the best way- the proper way to do it was to prolong it enough to watch their entire being fade to oblivion.
"They have to be slow. We have to make them slow," he said. With a smile he added, "And we have to make them good."
A soft rumble came from Clove's throat. When she spoke, her voice was too sweet and didn't match the violent crease her freckled nose made as it crinkled or her upper lip which rose as if she were snarling.
"But nothing too hostile," she whispered. The fire illuminated her pale skin but created black shadows in the hallows of her face.
Her words drew forth a harsh round of laughter from them both which caused the others to look over wearily. But they could give a shit. All too soon they would get to kill every last one of them.
And then Cato would get to kill her.
He watched her shoulders shake and her back arch as her unnerving cackle bounced through his ears and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to slam his mouth hard into hers as he did nights ago if only to make it end.
But when his face came dangerously close to hers he felt something hard and metal press against his left wrist, made known only to him and concealed from the eyes surrounding them and maybe even Panem itself. When he pulled away he saw she was still smiling.
Never in his life had he come across a creature so hideous and yet so fucking beautiful.
Hours later, after darkness had fallen and the blue light of dawn replaced their second night in the arena; Clove laid in her tent with open eyes watching the flickering orange glow of their fire as it died. She had slept but as usual it was restless and unsatisfying-especially considering she had not slept in almost three days. As she tried to doze off she could only think of Marvel waiting patiently for her moment of vulnerability and whispering to Glimmer to ready her knife. She thought of Cato's hard white teeth exposed beneath that stupid grin as his fingers tightened around the handle of his sword while he moved with silent feet over to her tent. A past Hunger Games continued to replay in her mind- one where a tribute had waited till his victims were asleep to kill them. But they wouldn't get her. Even in her sleep she was alert and there was never a moment when she didn't have a knife.
It didn't matter ether way. There were multiple times during that night where she had tossed or stirred and woke herself up. At some point in the purple darkness she simply gave up and settled in a limbo between being too roused to relax completely but not awake enough to move from her tent. For a long time she only laid there and thought intently of how she could so easily kill each of them right now. Glimmer had dozed off during her shift and it seemed the rest of them were fast asleep as well. Even the boy from Three who shook like a leaf from direct exposure to the cold morning air was far from consciousness, wrapped in his cocoon of a sleeping bag.
She realized that if she really wanted to, she could win this whole thing.
None of them could touch her, even if they were awake. All it would take was a few direct hits and she could depose of them all in minutes. She didn't need an "alliance." She could kill anyone. She could even kill the haunting boy from Eleven.
Of course she could do it the easy way. But she wouldn't waste this opportunity. Besides her nature alone would not allow her to do such a thing and she simply didn't want to. Though never before had she considered the fact that if one of the sniffling weaklings had her skill and ability that would be exactly what they would do – win as quickly as they could with as little gore as possible. For the first time since entering the arena she thought of Lyme, more specifically her voice as it said:
The second you let anger get the best of you, it could be the end of everything.
She smiled to herself.
Oh Lyme, how right you are.
Morning came- Clove opened her eyes at the sound of Lover Boy's voice, surprised that she had managed to doze off sometime after dawn, and as usual no one seemed to want to make any moves right away. So Clove grudgingly left them behind at the Cornucopia, accompanied by Cato again whose motivation for following her into the woods this time wasn't to simply bother her with his presence. Rather he seemed to be just as eager to find a tribute as she was.
They exchanged few words as they navigated through the woods. But they moved as a unit, scanning the canopy, darting through the trees at times then slowing their pace, two pairs of eyes constantly alert. There were moments when Cato would roughly wave his hand at her to halt and they would both stay still, listening.
At some point Clove hurled her knife at whatever it was she heard scurrying in a large brush beside her, only to find she had wounded a rabbit.
Cato's face turned the color of a beat as she lifted the animal by its scruff and held it out to show him.
"God fucking dammit," he bellowed.
Clove could visibly see the rage as it worked quick to consume him. The muscles in his arms pulsed beneath the rolled sleeves of his jacket. He whipped around and drove his fist unbelievably hard into the nearest tree trunk which resulted in a crack so loud Clove was sure he had broken his hand. But he continued to punch until his knuckles were purple and streaming blood. When this didn't work he began to kick at the trunk until the entire tree was leaning while he viciously snarled: "Where are they? Where the fuck are they?"
Clove should have been scared but as she stood silently observing him she only felt cautious. In this moment, if she didn't stay invisible, Cato could very well kill her. She knew this was all caused by his burning desire for blood because he hadn't killed since the first day- which she understood because she felt the same. In a way she was envious that he was able to release himself in this way. She had no release.
His fury was entirely mesmerizing. Veins rose in the corners of his eyes and the bones of his jaw nearly pierced through his cheeks. The power of his body was that of a machine; unforgiving, impenetrable. His arms must have been made of stone the way they flew so recklessly into the bark. And his legs too were inconceivable in the strength they possessed- which each kick leaves drifted around him from the branches high above as they rattled from his blows. She understood now how he could have broken a man's spine with his hands alone. Watching him, it was hard to believe he was only human.
But as he gave the tree one final blow with his foot and stomped off deeper into the forest, slashing at low hanging branches with his sword as he did, his battered knuckles reminded her that he wasn't immortal. She didn't dare follow after him right away. Instead she turned to the wounded rabbit. The creature made small strange noises as it struggled. The wound didn't seem fatal enough to kill it. It was only slowed down but perhaps it could still live-
If she were to walk away.
There was a rock in the earth of just perfect size. She lifted it from the ground and tenderly brushed coats of dirt from its moist bottom as she approached the creature.
Gingerly she kneeled down beside it. Then she smashed the stone down hard into its body. She was rewarded with a satisfying crunch of its bones and a faint slosh of its softness. But it didn't bleed. It was only deflated and dead. Its eyes bulged much like the girl from Sevens.
It was only a stupid, thoughtless animal. But it was something.
It wasn't hard to track down Cato; he was still angry and therefore making sounds that could have been likened to a bear whose footsteps were that of a herd of cattle. She silently followed him for some time but eventually her annoyance won over caution.
"If you don't shut up we won't find shit," she hissed.
As he turned, baring his teeth at her, she instantly she whipped out a knife for each hand. The sword he held gleamed viciously in the daylight as he raised it slightly into the air. But then he tilted his head and suddenly looked as he did the night before they came into the arena, with some sort of dazed expression taking over his features. He crept toward her with a wisp of a smile and his eyes were as blank and absent as they had ever been.
"What are you going to do? Kill me?" he asked as she raised the weapons. "Go on then. Toss your little knives-" he spread his arms and beamed "-I'm all open."
But as he continued to draw closer to her, his eyebrows lowered and his nose creased and his face contorted in some sort of sickening, feral grin that spiked an equal beastly anger inside her.
"Do it," he snarled. "Do it and watch what fucking happens. I'll fucking break them in half. And then I'll break you."
This threat was different from the others. It was different from the night when he held her wrists tight and it was different from when he had wrapped his hands around her ribs. Those times had been provoked out of her own spite or anger. But this was entirely him.
And it excited her.
She threw her head back and laughed before hurling one of her knives at his right thigh. However, she miscalculated his reaction entirely. Because he had been anticipating it he managed to move out of its way slightly- it still lodged itself in his flesh but it was in a spot nowhere near as fatal as she had intended. Then he charged at her like a train and was crashing against her before she even had time to launch a second knife at him.
With his sword against her neck he pinned her to a tree but she was fast enough to pull out another knife and hold it to his abdomen in a position that the slightest movement would be all it took to penetrate into his stomach. The blade of his sword pressed into her skin and he moved it just slightly enough to cut her. But the cut was fairly deep and painfully stung as he did. She cringed and coughed from the pressure against her throat but was sure to dig her knife into him as well, enough that he called her a bitch and pressed the knee of his stronger leg hard against her thigh.
For them time held still and nether moved. Once again she was captivated by the thin skin beneath his eyes. She wanted so desperately to run her finger across it, to feel its softness. She wanted to made tiny delicate slices in it, create patterns across the fragile blue veins that would be just as beautiful in their intricacy. He wouldn't die with a knife to the gut. That wasn't how he was meant to go.
One of his knuckles caught her attention now that she was able to see its damage in detail. It held the handle of the sword- the other was behind her head pulling it into the blade. Blood still flowed red from the gashes from which tiny splinters rose as if they were trees themselves. The sharp curves of each knuckle were already purple and swollen to unnaturally large sizes. And she could see that his white hand quivered.
His other hand suddenly let go of her hair and unexpectedly placed its back to the side of her face, tenderly dragging it across her cheek. She felt the warm moisture of his blood as it smeared across her skin. His eyes were so intensely focused on her she found it hard to look into them.
Her free hand brushed across the fabric covering his abdomen and trailed across his belt, down to his thigh were she pulled out the knife. His body twitched in reaction but he didn't break away his eyes. Instead he pressed his body further into her. His breaths increased as did the rise and fall of his shoulders. She lost herself in them.
And then they heard noises that were undoubtedly human.
In an instant Cato was off her. Whatever was approaching them was more than singular; in fact it may have been more than double. The voices of the oncoming tributes were hushed instantly and were followed by a rustle of quick footsteps which meant that they heard them too.
But they were ready – Clove with her knives out, Cato with his sword raised. They stood with their backs nearly touching, prepared to attack at the sound of a pin drop.
Marvel appeared from the trees, spear in hand. Realization spread across his features, but Clove didn't miss how hesitant he was to drop the spear. Glimmer appeared behind her, on the side facing Cato and she only knew this because she heard the girl snort, "What happened to you two?"
When Clove faced her she saw Glimmer looking aghast at Cato's now profusely bleeding leg wound as well as his gnarled hands. Her eyes then flicked to Clove but not to her face. Rather she was looking at her neck.
Clove touched her throat and was surprised at how badly it hurt and how much blood was streaming from the open wound. Perhaps it was shock or adrenaline or both but she didn't feel a thing until now. Cato had cut her pretty good. Though as she exchanged a glance with her district partner who partially smirked at her, only one word ran again through her mind:
We.
The rest of the morning turned out to be as fruitless as the past day.
Because of it, now the entire alliance seemed to be entirely frustrated. Each of them found their own special way to get under Clove's skin; she wasn't sure if she could keep herself from ripping Glimmer's hair out if she absently fussed with it one more time or if she could keep herself from attacking Lover Boy if she caught his eyes again. Though, judging by the occasional dirty glance from Marvel or the tightening of Marina's lips each time Clove stopped to tie her boot or play with her knives, the feeling must have been mutual. Their irritation with the situation began to manifest into each other.
But it all came to head during sometime when the sun was highest in the sky, while they took a break beneath a heavy canopy of trees.
It began as just a muttered conversation between Lover Boy and Marina. The sea slug was showing him the token she had brought from her District- just some ancient coin made from a material that shined bronze in the light. Glimmer who apparently couldn't handle a great deal of sweat and bugs without succumbing to a particularly foul mood, snorted at the object, to which Marina retorted, "So why don't you tell us what happened to your token, or does everyone already know?"
Clove had stopped paying attention to their meaningless chatter, allowing the sounds to blend together like the static of a broken television as she rearranged the knives inside her jacket (she had smirked at her own sarcasm as she placed her particular favorite behind the breast pocket, right over her heart.) But this sparked her interest. She found herself shooting a glance to where Cato sat beside her, only to find that he was doing the same.
Glimmer only narrowed her eyes in Marina's direction, her natural eyelashes still fluffy enough to nearly conceal her green orbs as she did. However before she could make whatever petty remark she held up her sleeve, Marvel's deep chuckle came from somewhere beyond the trees across from her. He stood bare chested a distance away, the porcelain white of his muscles giving him the appearance of a moving statue as he pulled a fresh shirt from his pack.
"How facetious it is that someone who had trained for eleven years still felt the need to bring poison into the arena," he mused, half to himself.
This didn't surprise Clove- if anything it amused her. So Glimmer tried to sneak in a bit of poison? Of course she would. It was such a typical Glimmer move to make. Clove didn't try to hide her entertainment as she looked to the beautiful but very stupid girl, who now only kept her eyes on her district partner. For a moment her lips pursed, but in the same way a lid extinguishes a flame, she was quick to release the annoyance she held in her mouth and in its place her lips slowly curled at their edges in a wicked, impish smile Clove had seen her display a million times but not of this intensity. Suddenly those green orbs were nearly glowing.
Marvel on the other hand, seemed to nether notice or care what her reaction may be. Clove found it interesting that he didn't wait till he was fully clothed again to antagonize her; nudity was by her terms the ultimate state of vulnerability. But he was clearly not threatened by Glimmer in the least, not even enough that he felt the need to look at her while he degraded her. Glimmer had certainly proven that she wasn't one to jump to attack when provoked, at least not physically- though there was something else about Marvel's demeanor toward her as well. The boy was indeed one of the most pretentious people Clove had ever met, therefore holding a rather low deal of respect for the rest of them. But strangely enough he seemed to hold the lowest respect toward his own district partner. Clove could hear it in the way he spoke to her.
Glimmer was now leaning, almost leering toward him, with her lovely face in her palms.
"Tell me, Marvel," she said. "Is that your token I see there? On your arm?"
Clove could barely see what she was talking about at first, it was so slight. But there, beneath the bulge of Marvel's pale bicep, was a very plain but intricately woven band. It was colorless, boring and very humble - a token completely unexpected from a tribute who hailed from the district of luxury. She could barely see his expression but from what she could make of it he seemed to display sudden interest in what Glimmer was saying. For a moment he paused, his bare back facing them completely still, before pulling a clean shirt over his body.
"A very good observation of you," he said sarcastically as he turned to face her.
"You know, I overheard Gloss while we were on the train saying that it was the weirdest token he had ever seen one of his tributes insist on bringing," she purred, the same smile still playing on her lips. Then she stood, almost aimlessly as if she were going to go take a stroll through the woods. Or perhaps it could have been categorized as such if she didn't pick up her bow and arrows as well, strumming the line of the bow.
Marvel picked up on this because he didn't take his seat. Rather, he leaned against the trunk of a tree near his own weapons of choice with crossed arms and a smile on his face that seemed contradictory to the anger in his eyes.
"Well, mine didn't shame him and our entire district with its stupidity," he sneered. "Did it, Glimmer?"
Anger momentarily broke through Glimmer's carefully maintained mask, but it was quickly stifled. Her pace had become less of a prance and more of a stalk. Then she tilted her head to the side and blinked with wide eyes.
"I guess not," she said tenderly. "But still how interesting that of all things that is what you choose to bring. It just… makes me wonder." As she trailed off, Clove thought she almost heard the girl's breathe hitch from excitement. Glimmer looked to the canopy of trees and for a moment Clove couldn't understand why, but she was quickly reminded of something she so often forgot: that the world was watching. Glimmer's grin was wild.
"Did she make it for you?"
Marvel maintained an empty expression but it seemed forced, as if he held something massive behind it. His eyes narrowed. Clove could see the muscles of his arms tense and his fingers burrow deeper into his skin.
"I don't know what you are talking about," he said.
"Oh Marvel you dog! Don't play dumb, that's awfully rude of you. You might break her little heart! She can probably hear us right now… or maybe not. Do the smelly manufactory scum actually own televisions?"
Marvel said nothing, only kept a strange smile on his face as he glared at Glimmer with enough intensity that the girl could have been knocked over. He began to creep, very slowly toward her. In response she cautiously began to move in the opposite direction.
"Silly, Marvel," she continued. "Did you really think you could keep her a secret? Didn't you know that your little pet works for Amethysts father? We've seen you two together... but my, you just could never take your eyes off her long enough to notice-" Glimmer then looked to the trees again and seemed to speak directly to a different audience. "Who would have guessed: the Golden Boy of District One, the Pride of the Academy was infatuated with nothing more than just a poor, flee-bitten factory girl."
Marvel's laughter that followed was sudden, harsh, and very unlike any that Clove had heard from him before. There was another word she could have used to describe it, but that word didn't come to mind until the boy's laughter stopped and the face he wore in its replacement was wide eyed and grinning.
Manic.
"Oh Glimmer, what dirty little games you play," he said very loudly. "Are you forgetting that we are here to kill each other, my dear?"
There was enough fire in his eyes to melt the cool blue of his orbs when he said, "Don't think for a second that I won't."
The threat hung in the air.
Clove and Cato exchanged a look, understanding the question they both asked without words. But wasn't she there's to kill? Cato smiled.
Glimmer's eyes widened in fear but her pride didn't seem to allow her to stop.
"Don't be cross with me because you aren't being a very good boyfriend," she sneered. "Why don't you wave hello so she can see you. What was her name again? Ah, yes-" And then she turned her beautiful face to the sky and waved with enthusiasm. "Hi Citrine!"
Marvel suddenly snatched his spear from where it leaned against the tree. As he did, Glimmer began to wildly shout at him, losing her composure entirely and seemingly trying to get out the words before he came too near: "Oh! But I forgot, didn't I? She can't see us right now. As a matter of fact she'll never be able to see us. Because she can't see anything, can she? She can't even see you!"
As the word You still ripped through the air, Marvel was already upon her. But Glimmer was fast to pull out her bow. Suddenly they stood in a stalemate. Marvel with his spear out and ready to impale, and Glimmer with her bow pulled back ready to fire directly through his heart. Normally she wasn't much of a threat with her arrows but with them standing at such a near range from each other, not even she could miss and certainly he wouldn't. Should ether one of them make a move, they could both end up dead.
In the heat of the moment Clove hadn't even taken the time to realize that the audience Glimmer was trying to humiliate Marvel before wasn't them, and it wasn't the majority of Panem- it was District One. Clove was vaguely reminded of when she had caught Cato with her knives on the first day and she understood just how different they were from the pair from One who used secrets over domineering strength. It was silly in Clove's opinion.
And then she realized something else too, what Glimmer had said about the girl who Marvel apparently loved. If there was one thing Clove could understand about them that Cato probably couldn't, it was social classes. In District Two, particularly in her sector, it was frowned upon for richer children to associate with the working class. But from judging by Marvel's reaction, perhaps such relations were more than just frowned upon. And what had Glimmer said? The girl couldn't see? Clove pondered this statement for a moment before she understood.
So the ostentatious, pompous, hallow Marvel was in love with nothing more than a blind provincial? The thought brought a smirk to Clove's face.
Marvel and Glimmer both glared deep into each other's eyes, nether backing down. Marvel then sneered.
"You know," he said quietly. "There's a reason why they called me the Pride of the Academy. I was good at what I did. As a matter of fact I may have been the best throughout the years. That's why I'm here now. But you, well, it was a wonder how you continued to advance when you were clearly so inept… Do you remember what they used to call you, Glimmer?"
Glimmer's face instantly flared in anger, she wasn't as good at concealing hers as Marvel. Marvel's smile widened. "Yes, of course you do. The Academy Slut."
Glimmer screamed. Marvel's arm muscles twitched as he pulled back his spear. Clove readied herself for the blood, but the blood never came.
Because very suddenly a ball of fire barreled through the trees, aimed directly at Marvel and Glimmer. They both dropped to the ground, avoiding it just barely by the blonde hairs on their heads. Lover Boy sprung out of its way as well as it crashed into the tree he had been leaning against.
Clove snapped around just in time to watch the surrounding forest burst into flames.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH BA-BA-BAM!
Now THAT was fun to write. Clatoness all over the place and of course some pissy District Ones (can I just say I am so happy everyone's loving Marvel? Because quite frankly I love Marvel too. He really came to life for me. I don't know how or why but he did! And yes that means potential fanfiction in the future- not an entire chapter by chapter story though. That would be silly considering I'm already writing from the stand point of the careers.) ANYWAY there it is folks. I hope this chapter made up for the fact that it took me forever to get it out. Please tell me what you guys thought!