watch me dance { venus & stevie

stevie masinova ;

 "These kids sure are scary, huh?"

I stand awkwardly, lanky, but shit I can't help that much. Still next to the weapon rack watching children play with knive; I swear this isn't some of their first times. I'm not talking about the careers either, Lucy's daughter seems to know more than goddamn Justice Fray when it comes to arteries. She's practically a tiny banshee and I'm just all fucking - I don't know. Not? But hell, I guess that's her work, I mean. I'm not all for this fighting shit, not like little Eckkie wants to get back to home to see her next sister fucking die next year.

It's not happening.

Whatever. She can make believe all she wants, and I'll face reality as it is - one drink, one smoke, one hit at a time. It's mostly interchanging between the roof and the cafeteria, it's not as high profile as you'd think. I mean, they make sure no bastard's trying to make nooses or stab other's in the necks, but you don't have to train if you don't want to. And I mean, that makes sense. Fucker doesn't want to learn, fucker can die on their own terms; I like that shit. The bright lights give me a headache from the inside but the roof's gotten boring. It's all just smelling the wind and dumping vodka shots into the plotted plants - I'm doing research y'see.

Eventually that things gonna die, and if it doesn't then it's probably fake.

But it's boring as hell, so I thought hey! There's twenty three others here waiting to die as well and countless staff! Why not actual talk to them, and I grab the first spear I could and all I can think is how fucked up that is like, we the people made this to kill each other with.

Woah.

It's heavier in my hand but I'm not thinking about getting used to it, "hey!"

Might as well talk to somebody.

"Hey papi," I walk face to face to one of the trainers, or another tribute in their suits which would be fucking hilarious honestly, "wanna teach me how to hold this thing?"