silver tongues and golden promises | (lalia)

l u c e dewitt

glory and gore go hand in hand
that's why we're making headlines
oh, oh, you can try and take us
but victory's contagious

Absently, her fingers traced the brim of the drink, and she watched him speak. She almost protested when he made a snide remark that made her sound like less than him, when she wasn't. She was better than most everyone she had met thus far when it came to power. Her strongest competition, Cleo Sullivan, was so weak compared to her that her poor life was ended in the bloodbath of the 64th Hunger Games, and Luce just knew that if she were ever to enter them she would win. She wondered if the confident boy next to her would win. She took quick notice of his physique, which was actually pretty damn impressive, and decided that, under the right circumstances, he just might have had what it took.

Luce had been flirted with before, it was common for boys to become smitten with pretty girls like herself, and she wasn't sure if what this boy was doing was flirting, or claiming property, like a dog marking it's territory. He wore an attractive smile and he looked at her with kind yet intimidating eyes as he asked name, and she raised her eyebrows. "Luce," she said simply, an absence of care or interest in her voice. "Luce Dewitt. And may I ask you for your's?" Then she took a small sip from her drink, still careful to act properly, even in the slums of the district, where manners were as unheard of as mercy in the sick country known as Panem, in which all of the residents were all just trapped rats in one way or another, either spending the entirety of their lives serving others in fear of being killed otherwise, or living in fear because they have grown so lazy that they seem to have forgotten how to live without help. She kept her back straight, and didn't slurp her drink. She looked at him with a confident stare and he matched it perfectly.

"It's a pleasure," she decided, and nodded behind her. "Do things like that happen often?" It was a genuine question. He spoke as if it was no big deal, like that scrap was one of thousands, and from the way he talked about it, one of the easiest. She almost hoped he would say yes, because she liked the danger it brought to the table. She was attracted to him, and he was obviously attracted to her. He had pretty blue eyes that would have looked almost childish if it wasn't for the angry edge that laced them, and dark hair like the feathers of a raven. Which seemed to fit, considering he exhibited a sort of darkness that sent chills of curiosity down her spine. Like her, he seemed to be one to go for what he wanted. "Good," she thought. "Let's see if he will go for me."

She finished the drink off and eyed him. She almost took him up on his offer to buy her a drink, but she valued her friendship with Monty the bartender more than most, and he didn't seem particularly fond of the boy that offered it, so instead she only nodded politely at him, and bit her bottom lip as he spoke. His voice was eccentric and clear, and did a decent job of shedding some light on the pride within him. He interested her, and there wasn't much that did those days, and she decided that instead of fighting him off, she was going to let loose and have fun, just for once.