Body and Mind and Soul | Quadrys

I ain't at home, home's where I'm going - I close my eyes to see.

They say that death feels more like a memory. That when you take  our final breaths and utter your last goodbyes, that it's more nostalgia than pain, but I don't believe that. To think that you could feel so inhuman before succumbing to the one thing that makes us genuinely that is absurd. So I don't mourn the three canon shots as they blast through the sky and through my bullet-hole ears; if I wanted to be sympathetic, I wouldn't have signed myself over to this game the day that I turned five.

The weak don't last that long, anyway.

From above, I can hear the droning beep of a parachute. It signals that there are people who care from me, and when it lands in the mossy overgrowth ahead, I cringe at the sheer filth that the once metallic capsule now possesses. Opening the hatch with my hand shielded in the fabric of my shirt, I can't help but grin wildly that the contents which rests inside.

One dress, a backpack, a water bottle (empty, to my disappointment), and a medkit.

The bare basics that I need to both survive and look good.

Without further thought, I strip the blotchy and mismatched uniform of my body and set the container down in the branches of a low-grown tree. Knowing that I need to do this quick due to my vulnerability, I grab the dress- which I had moved to the top- and slip it over my near-naked form, the fabric fitting perfectly against the tautness of my skin. Full of glee, I feel as if it's my wedding day.

Not that it would ever come with the boy who I have in mind- Atticus has to die for me to get out, I remind myself, and my smile drops knowing that I haven't seen him since the bloodbath. I'm sure he's alright. Those canons couldn't have been him. There's no way in hell.

Okay- maybe there is a way in hell, but that's aside from the point.

Laughing with no joy, I push the thought out of my head and spin once, allowing myself the simple pleasure of chilled air. I'm sure that I'll run into him sooner or later- hopefully never, if it means that I don't have to be the one to kill him- but there's been a few moments since that night on the roof top that I've wished districts never existed and we could have met earlier.

For someone who practically praises the way that the Capitol is run, it's always something when I can only wish for the slightest of difference.

Sighing once, I place all of my items into the satchel that I had received and throw it over my shoulder without a care in the world before picking up my knive and gripping the handle with a white-knuckled front force.

No matter what, the only thing that I can do now is find myself and find my alliance.

After all, being sentimental will get me nowhere.

Not even in the wooden box back home.  

I'll take my throne- lay it on a mountain.