don't {lose} yourself | (Python/Valencia)

Terror was a dominant factor in her life of misery. She was terrified of her father, she was terrified of the criminals living in her house, and most of all she was terrified of the annual Reaping that hauled the hearts of children out of their homes and dragged them into the square to be sent to slaughter or granted the freedom to return to their normal lives. That was why she always trembled when the moment finally arrived, when the escort would select two unfortunate children and practically turn them into savages or mince meat by forcing them to gamble for their lives in an arena. She always tried to avoid watching the Games, but it was such a large aspect of their culture that it was difficult to ignore and impossible to avoid. They had a recent victor, Klaus, who claimed the crown three years ago, but other than that district three had a bad streak of luck. They were a higher district but their tributes were swatted away left and right like petty flies, and that was what struck terror into her feeble heart. If she were to be summoned - if anyone in her home were to be called - she would be sure to return as a corpse with cold, snow white skin and flesh wounds closed up by Capitol sutures. Victory was so out of reach, it was almost nonexistent.

It was no wonder she breathed a long sigh of relief when her name was not called, and it was no wonder she felt the thin membranes of her emotional sanity start to crumble when she heard Drace’s name echo throughout the square. She had wanted to rush past the mass of children and fling herself at him before he could walk onto the stage, but the ice she felt accumulating in her chest sank to her ankles, anchoring her to the ground as the tears welled in her eyes. It wasn’t until the ceremony ended that she sprinted through the flocks to the justice building where she knew she would find him waiting with Peacekeepers as personal bodyguards. As soon as they granted her permission to enter the room, she pathetically leapt into his arms and buried her damp cheeks into his shoulder. She had tried so hard to help him survive and live beyond her father’s contract, and for what? For him to be plucked from the district only months before he could pay her father off and gain the freedom he rightfully deserved? It was complexly unfair, just like everything else that happened to the Nox family.

When they released one another she immediately searched his eyes and took notice of the pinkish tint in the sclera. It would not surprise her to see him cry - he had just been declared dead by The Capitol, and was merely waiting for the final blow - but it also would not surprise her to see him walk away masked with apathy. He was poker face Drace, after all; the most talented gambler in the district. He was no open book, but right now he was at his most vulnerable, she could sense it. She wanted nothing more than to use herself as a human shield and protect this exposed piece of him before someone could thrust a blade into it. She understood his last wishes for Damea’s safety, and nodded her head, praying to an unknown entity for the power to keep this promise and ensure that Damea’s life remain unscathed. What she could not promise, however, was her ability to move on. ”I want you to move on, okay? I want you to have a happy life. For both of us. Think you can do that for me?” She answered with more tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. As they spilled over her flushed cheeks, she nodded her head even when the gesture did not match her thoughts. How could she possibly move on? Drace was the only boy she ever had feelings for, and the only one who accepted her as a human being rather than a clone of her ruthless father. He was the only one who bothered to understand. How could she bear losing him?

”I need you to forgive me for this. For doing this to everyone. Tell them all I am sorry,”