Took Me Apart & Put Me Back Together // Elya's Funeral Pyre
Jun 17, 2015 17:48:43 GMT -5
Post by admin kay on Jun 17, 2015 17:48:43 GMT -5
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CIRCE LYON | |
Circe had marched away from the Cornucopia, her spine straight and her heart breaking. She did not dare turn around; she hoped Gunner followed, her eyes at Circe’s back, her kisses absent. The heat between her shoulder blades burned more brightly than anything else. More than her thigh, her chest, her duct taped jaw. That Gunner had branded her just that morning was impossible. The most impossible thing. More impossible than what followed Circe. She did not dare turn around. She spotted Orion first, which was strange, since she had hardly seen him all morning. She made a half attempt at greeting him, her jaw still too loose to be much good. After a half-sputter, she waved her bow, giving him the All Clear. As though that meant anything. As though anyone could be safe or whole again. Her right leg, still hemorrhaging, finally gave. She went down at once, knees smacking into the earth, jaw popping back out of place. A groan of pain hissed out of her throat, a pitiful biological response. She could not contextualize the pain. It was a distant thing, happening to someone else. This broken body and impossibly beating heart belonged to someone else. It could not belong to Circe Lyon; her heart had just been cleaved asunder by an axe. From the moment Jaime had died, her life had been one impossible thing after another. So, despite her wounds, despite what followed behind her, Circe put her bow into the earth and hauled herself up. She hobbled forward another few steps, and finally spotted her remaining ally. The beating heart surged, galloping to a new high. She forgot about the distant pain, Gunner and what she carried. She dropped her bow and bag and lunged. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED, NAT KRIGEL? At least, that’s what she thought she said as she wrapped her hands around his neck. Through the broken jaw, she hissed and spit. Blood dribbled down her chin and onto his uniform. She managed a few vowels but nothing cohered into an actual word. She was dangerously close to passing out herself from blood loss and exertion when strong hands wrapped around her shoulders and belly. Her fingers bent into claws even as Orion pulled her away from Nat. She scratched at Orion’s arms, landed one kick with her left leg to his shin, screaming bloodily. He carried her away. When he turned her, face to face with Gunner and the body, it was no longer impossible. Elya Johnwayne was dead. Circe sagged against the gentle giant, letting go of the weight of the body that was not her own. She swallowed bile and blood and a sudden rush of tears. There was no point in defying the stars; they always just claimed another soul for their own. With one hand to her chin, she worked her jaw manually, enough to say, “it should have been me.” | |
district 2 female of the 70th Hunger Games |
