healthy insides, master minds // ali (blitz)

I can't help but be intrigued by her as she sits down gracefully opposite me. Her face is calm and still as water, her posture poised, her fingers slender. I picture her bent over some intricate creation - District Three seems to spawn geniuses out of the air itself, and from the way her eyes glow as she gazes at the board, I can tell she's one of the brightest. She gestures for me to begin, but doesn't say a word. Not a talker, I note. I wonder if she makes a noise when she cries. "Thank you," my voice is humble and soft, not wanting to disturb the peace that has begun to settle between us. The game is too beautiful to pollute with words - she seems to understand that with her muteness.

My King-guarding pawn fits perfectly between my small fingers as I raise it off its square. Before placing it down again, I roll it agilely across my palm, enjoying the kisses the cool plastic gives to my warm skin. Finally, it comes to rest, two squares ahead, an invitation to my opponent. In less than a week, we could have knives at each other's throat. I wonder what her beautiful fingers would look like red with my blood. Leaning back with both arms in my lap, I watch sharp-eyed as she makes her move. Her hand seems to consider each piece individually, hovering first here and next there, and I know that she's already played the game to the end in her head a hundred times. Where does she win, and where does she lose? However, when she finally determines the best strategy for herself, I furrow my eyebrows and instinctively put one of my hands over her own to stop her. The contact is fierce and sudden, and I'm fairly sure she's the first tribute I've made contact with since I've been here. Her eyes meet mine, and I know regretfully that I need to break the silence again, because she won't. "I wouldn't do that." Even though she's a rival, in more sense than one, I can't help but advise her. Who's to say, however, whether she'll accept it?