flora / marceline & xov

marceline jeon .

"thought i was the only one,
turned out i was everyone"

Marceline is way, way out of her depth here; in the Capitol, in the training center, and here at the plants station. District Eight is heavily industrial. It has been for as long as Marceline's been alive, and longer. Maybe it's different in other areas, but where Marceline grew up, foliage fights out through the pavement cracks for nutrients, seeking the sun somewhere far above the factories and the smog. She and her family, her peers, they're the same way. Little weeds, somehow green, somehow dandelion yellow, brief flashes of colour midst the brown and grey.

All that to say, Marceline doesn't have a clue about edible plants, poisonous plants, or useless plants. She's spent a lot of time at the trapping station for that reason. Even Marceline, indoorsy as she is, has helped her mother skin an animal to cook and eat. She can do that, but plants are still a massive blind spot for her. It worries her, mostly because of what more knowledgeable tributes might do. She's aligned herself with the District Sevens, and though she doesn't want to think this way, Marceline's become increasingly suspicious of them picking her off one way or another once she's outlived her usefulness, via poisoned food or some other shady method. So, to the plants station she went, to hopefully drill some of them into her mind.

"Okay," Marceline mutters to herself, holding an innocuous looking berry close to her face. Swallowing this round, purple little thing could kill her. "Would be bad, I'll die. But would be good, for dye." She feels like a child (and somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice that she ignores reminds her that she is), making up little memory devices, but whatever. As long as nobody overhears... and as long as she actually remembers.

Marceline sighs and sits back, twisting her mother's ring around and around. All of this is a waste of time.