Training, Day 2, Part 2
Clarke swung the sickle. Its handle was unfamiliar in her hand; it neatly cleaved the dummy's lower arm off at the elbow, where the disjointed body part thudded on the ground and water gushed out onto the floor below. Very different from her preferred brick's messy impact, but not bad at all, though getting her hands on one of these might prove to be an issue in the arena. It was too early to forget about ol' reliable.
"You go, girl!" Zirconia cheered beside her. "Wreck that bad boy!"
Matza had informed Clarke over breakfast that the Twelves sent a formal alliance request last night, and she'd found the pair waiting for her when she arrived in training.
She tossed her head back with an exaggerated smile and ran her hand through her blonde pixie cut. "What can I say? I guess I'm a natural?"
"Oh, shut up."
"But consider. A Peacekeeper." She whipped back to the dummy and slashed its chest open. Never mind that Peacekeeper uniform usually involved armor there—she knew that from experience—it was fun just to imagine.
Zirconia clapped her hands. "Oh my goodness, yes! But for a Peacekeeper…" She plucked the sickle out of Clarke's hand before messily slamming the sickles edge into the dummy over and over, squirting water everywhere. When she turned back, the whole front of her shirt was wet. "That's more like it!"
Though Zeph pressed his lips together and crossed his hands, watching lazily off to the side, his smile shone through. "You two are just too much…"
"No, you." Zirconia poked him in the arm. "C'mon. Try having some fun for once!."
"Believe me; I've tried it plenty. I know this girl back home that drags me around—"
"Zeph!"
As the Twelves jabbed at each other, Clarke watched from the sidelines, smiling at the banter though her gut twinged with concern. Things had worked out perfectly all things considered, but the Twelves were still a district pair, one comprised of childhood friends whose relationship Clarke could never hope to compare with. Not that she needed the relationship. She just needed to be assured they wouldn't turn on her too soon. Maybe proving her worth would help…
Ugh, maybe she was being a little paranoid. Zirconia was great fun; their morning together thus far had been nothing short of awesome. Even Zeph, who'd seemed politely reluctant yesterday, hadn't given her any reason today to worry for her safety.
If anything, Clarke was grateful for Zirconia. She otherwise couldn't stand the passing moments in this place. After a full day of the Capitol's "superiority" shoved down her throat yesterday, she'd almost totally broken down, but though she'd arrived today with a knot in her stomach, Zirconia's radiant laugh had soothed her nerves, a great relief after she'd barely slept last night.
She couldn't rely on the Twelves to keep her sane, though. She glanced over at the bathrooms in the corner. If she ever found her cortisol levels skyrocketing today, she might hide out there until she could regain her composure. Wash her face with the crystal-clear water, purified repeatedly like the Capitol tried to purge the districts. Grip the edges of the sink, polished shiny gleaming like a Peacekeeper's gun. Wring her hands in the Capitol's paper towels that reeked of oppression. When the trauma inevitably returned, she couldn't afford to have the Twelves watch her unravel. It'd make her look weak. She refused to look weak.
Someone shouted; she turned to see the Five boy snarling at the small Eleven girl at the herbal remedies station, a dusting of grounded-up leaves over the floor. It seemed Clarke herself wasn't the only one on edge. Just being here was messing with everyone's minds.
Zirconia stepped with a start in their direction, but Zeph grabbed her arm. She shook him off. "This ain't right!"
"Neither is the world. This ain't our business."
"But the girl!"
He motioned for her to calm down, eyes darting around the room. "The trainers will take care of it. It's their job to keep us from getting hurt before the Games."
"Ugh!" Zirconia stamped her foot, but she stayed put. Sure enough, a trainer soon grabbed the Five boy and broke up the situation.
Clarke felt her hands growing hot, almost as if she were catching Zirconia's emotions, but she squeezed them and willed herself to stay still. She'd found these allies to help her survive. That's what everything she did had to point to—giving into the Capitol by dying wasn't an option, was it? She'd live even if only just to wave a middle finger in their face and tell them how much she enjoyed being subjugated.
Hence, a problem.
Zirconia had been so quick to move to the Eleven girl's aid, and Clarke liked it. A person of action, and not just words. But what would they do if they found the girl in the arena? Would Zirconia be as eager to help, or would they choose self-preservation? Clarke wasn't sure which she'd choose either. Hopefully, every decent person would go early and keep her from having to make that choice.
Ding!
The lunch bell. One of the walls to the training room slid open to reveal the cafeteria, along one side of which Avoxes stood at the ready to serve. Though many of the other tributes paused at their stations, likely waiting for the trained kids to make the first moves as the de facto kings and queens of the room, Clarke couldn't care less and neither did the Twelves. She glanced back at those despicable privileged brats with defiance dancing in her eyes, as if to say, "We're not scared of you."
But then her eyes met Liat's, and she wished she could take back her thoughts. Liat wasn't despicable. Clarke felt like she should despise anyone from brown-nosing, spineless District Seven, but Liat was so sunny and bright but also direct and fearless and there was no way Clarke would ever find it in herself to hate the trained girl from District Seven.
She looked away, marched after the Twelves toward the food line, and tried to put the girl out of mind, blonde curls and all, yet she could swear Liat was watching her, even as she stared at the lunch options. She had to keep her cool. Pretend like nothing was bothering her. If she looked, she might make eye contact again, and then where would she be? Lost in another endless ocean of what-ifs, like the one that'd kept her up all night?
Lost in thought, she ended up far behind the Twelves in line, separated by the District Three pair and the Five girl. Liat was becoming such a problem. If Clarke didn't pull herself together soon, things were bound to go far south.
A light force bumped into her from behind.
"What do you want?" She whirled around, nearly slamming her elbow into the young girl from Eleven.
"I'm so sorry!" The girl's voice was weary. Her shoulders hunched over. "I-I don't know what's wrong with me today…"
Clarke gulped. That poor girl, so innocent, so naive, so unfortunate, running into one trouble after another—yet both of them were tributes. Trouble was the name of the game. If they ran into each other, Clarke would have to kill her. Could she do it? She didn't have a choice. Victory required that every other tribute be dead for her to live.
"It's nothing," she said, half under her breath. "Don't worry about it."
The Eleven girl backed out and retreated to the back of the line, much to Clarke's relief. Put the dilemma out of sight; put the dilemma out of mind. But before she could turn back around, she noticed a despising pair of eyes on her. It was the girl from Six, who'd been in line behind the Eleven girl.
The Six girl scoffed. "Not so tough, are you?"
"Mind your own business." Clarke bristled.
"Sounds like you're hesitant."
"I'd do anything to win."
"Anything to win, huh?" The girl rolled her words slowly. Her steady eyes remained fixed on Clarke, taunting her.
"Shut up." She grit her teeth. Her face burned hot; smoke felt about ready to rise from her ears. "You don't know me."
"Sure, sure. Whatever you say."
"Go to he—"
"I'll believe it when I see it," the girl continued as if she didn't hear Clarke at all. "You know she's your competition right? You'll have to cut 'er up."
"I know."
The girl sighed exaggeratedly with a roll of the eyes. "Oh my, what a dilemma! Do I cling to my morals, or do I become a terrible person? Whatever will I do? Pshaw!"
"You're a terrible person."
"Oh, I know. I never pretended I wasn't." The girl shrugged. Her eyes wandered up and down the rows of food. Clarke wasn't even worth half her attention. "Hurry up and move. You're holding up the line."
Clarke glared sickles at the girl one moment longer before she whirled around and moved on. Though she refused to look, the girl's snicker rustled in her ear, provoking an inner fire that burned her chest with violent anger. Oh, how she hated that girl! That was one tribute she wouldn't hesitate to cut down. Maybe she'd even enjoy it. For now, she'd lump the Six girl in with Peacekeepers.
Minutes later, she snuck a peek back, only to find that Six girl with arms crossed, lazily admiring the food options. She looked perfectly unbothered by what had just happened, as if it were just a regular day. And that made Clarke angrier—had the girl just dropped in to ruin her day?
Beyond the girl, at the end of the line, she noticed the Eleven girl talking to Mati, a sweet smile restored to her face. Half of Clarke was almost glad the girl was okay. She hadn't meant to give the poor girl another scare. But Mati? Self-righteous, villain-defending Mati? She couldn't imagine why the girl would be drawn to the guy. He didn't deserve anything.
At the same time, what did this all say about Clarke herself? She wasn't a bad person. She knew she wasn't. She'd dedicated her life to resisting tyranny in her beloved district, to fighting the very ones who forced her into the world and then killed one of her adoptive mothers, robbing her of basic human dignity and identity. She'd risked her life for this cause, multiple times too! Yet somehow, the girl had found Mati comforting—and where did that leave Clarke? None of it sat right with her. Everything was all wrong, from Six girl to Mati to the whole cursed Capitol.
All the same, the question lingered. If she were a good person, would she kill the girl for her cause, or would she give up her cause and her life for the girl?
Scythe poked at his food from a quiet corner of the cafeteria. He was hungry, at least physically, yet he almost felt like he shouldn't be, considering how messed up everything was. Many of the other tributes seemed perfectly fine, chatting away with others and eating up a storm, but that wasn't him. He wouldn't let it be him. He was sure he could chat them up if he really needed to, but the Hunger Games were ultimately a deathmatch, not some social event, and any friendships made were destined for disaster. It would be safer to stay here in the corner, observing without drawing a bit of attention to himself.
He sighed when he spied Iggy with the boy from Nine. Mati, she'd mentioned at dinner last night. As far as allies went, Mati didn't seem like a terrible choice, between his kind demeanor and the decent muscle, but that wasn't the issue here. Iggy was so quick to love. Somehow, despite growing up in District Eleven, she didn't have a single, self-preserving wall built up. And if Mati died…
Scythe feared she would too. Not just fear, he knew she would. She already didn't seem to be holding up well in this harsh environment. Though Mati had brought her smile back, Scythe caught her slumped shoulders, her new tendency to stare at the ground, away from the gaze of any threatening tributes. First it'd been Five boy. And then it was Nine girl. When he'd seen it happen, his blood had turned to ice. The girl didn't deserve this. And even now, he found himself glancing at the pitiful Five boy, hoping that the boy felt terrible.
Gosh, was he attached to Iggy now? This wasn't okay; he was being a fool. He had to be at the top of his game, to be as efficient as possible, to stay calm, avoid unnecessary emotions, ignore everyone that would eventually be dead. No, he wasn't angry. Anger was a waste of energy.
Ding!
What a relief it was to hear the early bell! Tributes were still allotted more time to eat, but if they wanted to, they could return to training. And return to training he would, 'cause he was restless. He wasn't normally restless. He felt a visceral need to move, to act, to do something productive instead of sitting here seething. The only thing left on his tray was a cookie, but he didn't have the appetite for it nor the desire to sit here any longer when his life was on the line.
He stood to his feet, the first in the room. Most seemed content to eat, though the District Fours seemed about done with lunch as well. Unassumingly, he cleaned up his trash and returned his tray, glad to be on his feet and moving again.
He took just a short detour by Iggy's table en route to give her his extra cookie. It seemed right.
Once he stepped in the training area, he found himself staring at all the stations. His muscles were tense and restless, but he didn't know what to do. Automatically, he strode to the rock-climbing wall. Its shadow loomed over him. He took cautious steps on the thickly padded floor which sunk beneath his foot; although there was no need to be quiet, he treaded softly.
"What are you doing here?" An unpleasant voice further down the wall broke the silence. It was the District Four Male, alone this time. "I was here first."
Scythe crossed his arms. No need for diplomacy here. "So what?"
"So get a move-on."
"This ain't children's school." He fixed his eyes on the Four Male, unafraid though Four had a few inches on him. It wasn't that he particularly needed to climb the wall, but now that he was here, he had no intention of changing his mind just because Four here felt petty. "The wall's big enough for the two of us."
Four Male kept glaring, but Scythe ignored him and started up the wall, glad to finally be moving, to work off that tension that'd plagued him ever since he arrived here and saw a new depth to the Capitol's depravity.
A third of the way up, he glanced over and noticed the other guy on his way as well, albeit with a bit more trouble than he himself had had. He supposed District Four's fishing industry didn't quite require the same dexterity as Eleven's orchard picking. Though the other guy's existence didn't bother him much, the other guy still didn't seem to be over Scythe's existence, judging by the malicious frown.
Scythe sighed and continued up, yet in the corner of his eye, he noticed Four Male straining to pick up his pace. So the guy wanted a race, huh? Needed to beat him to the top to inflate his own ego, huh? By Snow, Four could barely keep up with Scythe's leisurely climb. If he wanted a race, Scythe would give him a race, and Scythe knew for sure he'd win this one.
One grip at a time, he hoisted himself up the wall, faster and faster, inserting his hands and feet into the crevices all over its surface. Every so often, he glanced at Four, who trailed further and further behind. It wasn't long before he scrambled over the ledge and paused for a break.
Here, he could see the whole room. He should've come here yesterday; it was such a perfect place for observation. A couple of the Careers had returned to training—One male and Seven female, it seemed. Four guy's district partner stepped out of the bathrooms; no wonder the guy was alone for now. District Five female and the District Threes strolled across the room, talking amongst themselves in hushed tones.
Of course, Scythe knew what they were talking about. Ada's plan had been impressive; he'd give her that, though it was just as dangerous. Explosions, huh? Deep down, he couldn't deny that the idea was rather attractive. It was a risk, a gamble, so removed from his preferred efficiency and caution, but nowadays, Games were won by decisive action. Maybe he would've accepted the offer if his mind hadn't been flooded by a million ways the plan could fail.
A struggling grunt alerted him to the Four male's arrival, at which he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
The Four male scowled, trying to catch his breath. "Go die, okay?"
"One of us has to."
"Shut up." He clenched his hands, ears already steaming from something so unimportant.
Scythe shrugged. He supposed it was time to return to the ground; there was no point in unnecessary conflict.
As he neared the edge, Four lunged.
Scythe darted to the side. What a bastard! Did the little race up bruise the guy's ego that much? And what happened to no fighting? But the ledge was too small, and he hadn't expected Four to pull something so uncalled for.
A hard fist connected with his shoulder. It tipped him off balance; his leg swung out into nothing. His hand latched on Four's arm. Four thrashed, shoving his fist in Scythe's face, and then he fell.
He fell.
For one brief moment, he was airborne. Wind rushed past his ear. Four remained on top of the wall with a mocking smile. Oh, he should've seen it coming! Basic human decency was too much to ask for here, huh?
The next, his back collided with the padded floor, knocking the breath out of his lungs. He stared at the lights on the ceiling, still dazed, but then faces poked into his view asking him if he was okay, first the Four girl and then two trainers. Brushing them aside, he quickly sat up and clambered to his feet, face burning with embarrassment.
He didn't need their concern. It was a waste of their time. It was a waste of his time too, just like anger—and he still wasn't angry. Not at all. Just mildly frustrated, or possibly even really frustrated, a frustration that settled into every muscle and left him wanting—no, needing to do, to act, to stop waiting around and make things happen. Alone, he could do nothing about anything. He was too small. One little oversight and he'd fallen, just like that, and this flaw was unacceptable. Perhaps it was time for a change in approach.
He found Ada and her two friends at the knot-tying station, likely laying low. She had sympathy in her eyes, but she didn't say anything that would be a waste of time, which he greatly appreciated.
"I've reconsidered," he said. "Count me in."
Iggy had been in the middle of a delicious chicken pot pie when Scythe dropped a cookie on the table and disappeared as suddenly as he'd come, so abrupt she hadn't even had the time to say "thank you." She craned her head back, but all she saw was the back of his rapidly disappearing figure as he returned to training.
"Is everything alright?" Mati asked. He'd put down his fork, staring after Scythe too.
"I… think so?" She picked up the cookie and took a little nibble, delighted to find a nutty flavor. "It's so good!"
Mati stared blankly. "He just… gave you a cookie?"
Iggy paused, the call of the cookie temporarily suspended by utter confusion. Scythe didn't like her much… right? He never talked when she tried to talk to him, only occasionally muttering a few words about the Capitol that Iggy didn't think nice to repeat. He spent so much time glaring at Miss Tati, though now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember if he ever glared at her specifically.
She beamed at Mati. "Maybe he's actually a really kind person deep down."
"I… like the way you think."
He smiled back at her. She loved his smile. It was happy and sad and warm and quiet all at the same time, and she knew he wouldn't ever hurt her, unlike some of the other tributes in the room, like the Five boy from that morning or even Mati's district partner Clarke. Well, she didn't know if Clarke would try to kill her, but her "What do you want?" was enough to convince Iggy that she didn't want to wait and find out. Not to mention all the Careers, muscular and adept. If they could spear a dummy halfway across the room…
She didn't want to finish the thought. It just couldn't be that people would want to kill! Hurting others was bad and everyone knew it… right? How could so many of the other kids be okay with it? Ultimately, if they were all part of Mother Nature, sharing in the universe's life force with the Mother Tree, they all had to be good, since She was good. But killing wasn't good! Not to mention all the good people in the Capitol that liked to watch…
"Are you okay? Was there something in the cookie?"
She shook her dizzy head. The cookie was definitely good, both because it tasted good and because it meant Scythe didn't hate her. "I'm just… thinking."
"If this is about Clarke…"
"Oh, no," she said. "Well… kind of. But not really."
Mati bit his lip, obviously upset now. That upset Iggy too. "I hope she didn't scare you too bad. She's just a little impulsive sometimes…"
She closed her eyes briefly to breathe. In. Out. Clarke had been scary—for a second, Iggy was sure the other girl was about to knock her out. But being unhappy with Clarke would neither please Mama nor the Mother Tree, so she chose to not worry about it or be mad at Clarke for yelling at her.
"I think…" she said, peacefully opening her eyes. "I think it would be nice if we could all go out and listen to nature. It would help Clarke too."
"That's a nice thought."
A frown pulled at the corner of her lips, but she refused it. She hadn't meant for it to be "a nice thought"; she was serious! She couldn't blame him, of course. He didn't grow up listening to Her, so he wouldn't understand how much people could change when they truly quieted themselves to be in tune with nature.
So she returned to her cookie, suddenly hyper aware of Mati's every expression. He'd looked sad, but then he looked sadder. Had she frowned and spread him some more sadness? She hoped not. Mati deserved happiness.
Amidst the looking but not-really-looking at him, she noticed another pair of eyes the next table over, empty save for the boy from District Six, who seemed to be watching them. Or watching Mati? She didn't think the boy had any reason to be watching her.
The words slipped out before she even realized she was asking. "Do you know the Six boy's name?"
Mati blinked. "It's Thomas. Why?"
"I don't know. He's watching you." She glanced back at Thomas, who'd now averted his gaze. Even so, though she didn't know why, she just felt he looked sad, all alone. That made her sad too.
"Hmm… He's been hanging around me a lot."
"Maybe he's lonely," she said. She vaguely remembered the Six girl behind her in line. They hadn't talked, but that was because she'd been too scared to talk to her. Maybe Thomas' district partner didn't like him much either, just like Clarke and Scy—
Well, not Scythe, apparently. She nibbled on the cookie to make sure. But if Thomas was lonely, then…
"Maybe you should talk to him!" she said, eyes shining.
"Uh… I don't know about that."
"Why not?"
He chuckled. "I'm so awkward. It'll annoy him to death before the Hunger Games even start. Plus I'll probably accidentally get him killed or something…"
She couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. "You're not annoying; I like being around you! I think he would be happy if you talked to him."
"Thanks." He smiled sadly. "I appreciate the thought, but…"
There it was again. Just a thought. Iggy hadn't just had a thought; she'd genuinely meant it because Mati was genuinely nice and she didn't like it when he talked about himself like that. It just felt so wrong. The bit of anger in the moment felt wrong too, but this one was justifiable… right?
"Why do you think I'm just being nice? I'm serious!"
"Look, Iggy—"
"You keep saying that you're annoying or you're not helpful or you're not that good, but I don't understand. You're good!"
The flood of words shocked even Iggy herself. Mati stared at her, mouth slightly ajar. She tried to catch her breath, trembling all over. That had been loud. Too loud.
"You're… good…"
She'd crossed a line, hadn't she? She buried her head in her hands. Now he was mad at her. She wanted to run all the way back to Mother Tree and close her eyes under her branches until all this messy anger disappeared and she felt at peace again. Yet she still felt like she had to say it, that it'd been right.
Finally, after a terrible silence, she found the courage to look up. He didn't look mad. He didn't look sad either, though he seemed to be blinking rather quickly.
"Thank you… It means a lot."
None of this still made any sense to her. How could someone think so lowly of themselves? But she didn't argue. She'd done enough of that in the past few minutes to last her years, so instead, she broke off an untouched half of her cookie and extended it to him. He nibbled on it, still blinking.
She smiled at him. Nature was good. And so were people, even the others that looked mean, like the Five boy, or the Careers, or Clarke. Or Mati, determined to insist on his own… terribleness? They were all good. Thinking otherwise wasn't an option.
Electra's fingers adeptly worked around the ropes, tying it into a knot that could turn any sturdy rope into equipment fit for rappelling. Of course, if she had to rappel down a steep surface, she'd have much bigger problems than her equipment—she much preferred to have her feet on the real, tangible ground below her—but it was good to rationally know it was at least possible. Plus, the loops and twists came naturally to her. There was something reassuring about not being terrible at a survival skill, no matter how small the skill was. It was definite, a confident "I can do this" amidst a sea of uncertainty.
Speaking of uncertainty, the Eleven boy's addition to the group hadn't cleared anything up either. She'd sat with the Threes all day, but neither side had said anything even barely resembling an official alliance acknowledgment. To be fair, neither Ada nor Ace ever said much at all. Ada always seemed caught up in her own internal world, while Ace… well, both Electra and Ace found it easier to smile at each other and acknowledge each other's presence rather than… actually talking.
So she worked at her ropes, tying them into knots, wishing all the while that she could untangle the silence and talk, hear their woes, relieve them of their burdens and make things a little easier to bear for them. It was unreasonable. She knew it was. The Hunger Games were no place for real friendships, not when all your best efforts to keep your friend alive only meant you'd have to kill them yourself—or die to them. Such was the world created by the Capitol, a world of inequality and jealousy, mistrust and betrayal, a world that slapped her in the face every morning.
But wasn't she allowed a taste of idealistic fantasy, of other realities that never manifested in her own world?
No. The answer was no. And she knew it. And she tried to quash it, to force it down to its bare bones before sparing it, unable to bring herself to fully kill that dream, although she knew that allowing its roots to remain would forever doom her to eternal wistfulness.
Doom her it would, 'cause when she looked up and saw Scythe from District Eleven struggling with the ropes, his mouth pressed in a tense line, she knew what she'd do.
"Hey," she said. "H-How are the knots going?"
"I'm fine." Scythe barely looked up, just enough to make eye contact for a split second. His voice was cold; his words came out curt, so devoid of feeling she could almost believe she was talking to Capitol artificial intelligence.
Understandable. She'd seen the Four boy push him over the edge of the climbing wall; he deserved to be angry. She almost felt a little angry herself—the Capitol wouldn't do anything to punish Four. They'd sweep it under the rug even though everyone here knew about it, just like they did with the Purging of District Five.
"I'm s-sorry. About what happened with Four."
No reaction from him that would indicate any internal residue. No flaring of the nostril, no deep breath, nothing. Though maybe that in itself was an indication.
He spoke coldly. "It's unfortunate."
"Are you h-holding up okay? I know it must be hard."
"I'm fine." He didn't look up at all this time, instead trying and failing to guide the end of the rope through the correct sequence of loops. "I don't need help either. I'll figure it out."
She was left staring. Somehow he'd known exactly what she wanted to say and shut it down before she had a chance. If she couldn't talk to Ada and Ace, how could she expect to make any headway here? Against her better judgment, she tried again.
"That's f-fine… What's Eleven like?"
"Hot. Humid. Far from here." He set his hands down on the table, abruptly pulling on the shadow of a forced smile. "You wanna tell me about Five? Your family?"
She fiddled with a loose end of her rope. What had caused this sudden change in demeanor? "F-Five is…. d-dark." She winced; that cursed stutter was worsening. "We have a lot of p-power plants. I… live with my parents."
He continued to stare at her with that smile. It sent a chill down her smile because she knew that it wasn't him, yet she felt the weight of his waiting—he wanted her to elaborate. Five had a lot of power plants? What a stupid answer; everyone knew that! She might as well have said that the Capitol was the capital of Panem.
"I-I…"
There were things for her to say. How she worked in her mother's convenience store, how she and her mother didn't talk much or really interact at all, how nothing made her happier than to spend her afternoons with Abner and the other orphans, free of being judged.
Yet any words that bubbled up inside choked in her throat. To say them would be baring herself to this stranger, exposing her heart guarded by inscrutability to the forces of the universe in a way that'd leave her trembling in the nakedness of vulnerability. She silently pleaded with him to stop, to relieve her of this burden of transparency, but his gaze never let up, instead boring a hole in her face with its intensity.
She conceded defeat. "Well, I… I have a p-pretty normal life."
"My point exactly." He returned to his knot-tying.
She smiled meekly at him and bowed out, yet she felt anything but meek. Ugh! Electra! Stupid, stupid Electra! She couldn't stand to speak, yet she couldn't stand to hold her peace. Then what was there for her—nothing? It seemed that way. Give it a few more days and she'd be reduced to nothing as well. She would be dead, never having made a meaningful mark on the world, either through rebellion or intimate connection.
It would be her fault too, for locking her dreams in a peaceful prison of self-preservation. Those self-imposed bars seemed more unbreakable than ever.
A/N Ahhhh I feel like I always say I'm slower than I'd like but it's how I feel. But let's talk about our kids. Hmm… if you could hang out with one of the kids in real life, which one would it be?
Though I love every last one of them, I think I'd have to go with Sos. I love his vibe, how he's full of energy yet also responsible, mature but fun, kind and passionate. He's just an awesome bro. Liat might be a close second though, …
I'd love to know your thoughts!
