no light, no light {saffron + percy} // blitz
Jun 10, 2016 14:46:44 GMT -5
Post by я𝑜𝓈𝑒 on Jun 10, 2016 14:46:44 GMT -5
[presto]
[/presto]
[/presto]you are the hole in my head
you are the space in my bed
you are the silence in between
what i thought and what i said
My fingers clutch the letter by its crease.
I poured my heart out into the ink of a pen- and my hand shook as I glided its tip over the page. I write goodbye into hundreds of words on a piece of parchment, but it means nothing next to Calypso's warmth and embrace. (Things they stole from me, things I cannot feel, here.)
They didn't let me say goodbye after they tore her arms from mine and beat her bloody to the ground. I watched the crimson spatter on the concrete as my heels dragged on the ground, cutting grooves into the gravel path.
I know the legend of Saffron Lowe as well as the next tribute. She is a bed time story, the little girl with sunset hair and a crown on her head. Saffron Lowe was my age when she won the Games- perhaps I should idolize her, but I could never strive to have blood on my hands.
(But in a few days time, I will have blood on my hands.)
I do not remember much from the 65th Games, but I remember the blood she left on Lucy Peverell. But she did not leave her to rot- she gave the friend she had slain a warrior's burial.
Perhaps I do idolize her in this: Saffron Lowe was a killer, but she never became a murderer.
Seeking out the young victor was no difficult task- I just had to ask one of the servants which elevator she takes to her room.
The quiet pitter patter of my feet against the marble floor of the corridor sound like gunshots in the silence.
"M-Miss Saffron?" I call to the back of her head, to the copper pouring down her back.you are the night time fear
you are the morning when it's clear
when it's over you're the start
you're my head, you're my heart
