golden waves, magic gems (justice, day 3)

There's something about the way the pool of gold sits so still that makes me want to just sit and look at it for awhile. It's beautiful. And I suppose Nine was right—it sorta is like the sun, the way it makes the cavern shimmer and the gems dance. I know when to admire something, someone. And this lake of gold? It deserves my admiration.

("But was it ever good enough, Justice?")

But it's in the stillness and the silence that memories catch up to me. I glance at the edges of the pool, my eyes scanning for the enemies I'm so certain still sit there. They couldn't have gone far. I've got enough blood shimmering on the blade of my axe to be certain that I've slowed them down. But I won't be satisfied until slow becomes stopped. Feet stopped, lips stopped, hearts stopped. Dead.

I want them dead—no, her dead.

("Trust me, I know how it is.")

Bitch broke my arm. She told me I was—

She told me I—

Failed.

("I think I could get it pretty spot on.")

But what does she know? She couldn't have been more wrong. As if I fear anything at all. I'm from District One. I'm a Career. I'm Justice Fray. I don't fear something as fucking as petty as loneliness. When I win this thing, I'll have dozens of girls batting their eyelashes at me and who knows how many guys asking me for pointers on how to fight. I'll have a different girl in my bed each night, new friends to take to the clubs every single day. Lonely? How could anyone be lonely when they are living like that?

She's stupid, irrelevant, clearly more incompetent than I had originally thought. She'd only managed to land a single hit on me. And she hadn't even broke the skin. No blood, no gore? Clearly she wasn't taught how to put on a good show for the public back home. Some Career she is. Some pathetic whore--

"Ah!"

My foot burns painfully as the toe of my boot slips into the edge of the molten gold. I scramble to untie my boot, only to curse again in pain as my broken arm protests the movement. I sit still as the gold slowly hardens, the burning slowly diminishing into just a small flare of heat circling my toes.

A small clatter catches my attention and I recognize the small gem with my sister's face falling from my pocket. I turn it over in my palm, bits of dried blood sticking against the crystal. I endure the pain to brush the flecks of crimson away from her face. Her scowl is just as unfriendly in this picture as it felt in real life.

I never liked her. My sister. Scout. She had an unbridled temper, no respect for anyone but Kaiser, and as far as I knew, she didn't like me all that much either. She didn't like anyone, not really. Even the Mortuus girl wasn't really someone she liked, just someone she could respect. Someone who liked killing just as much as she did. And then the Mortuus girl killed her and my parents swore they wouldn't have another one of us slain by filth from District 12.

And with the memory of Petra's body bloodied and beaten etched against the dark canvas of my mind, I know I can't possibly be more of a failure than my sister. Right? She was a disappointment to my parents, to the family. It wasn't my sister that I was allowed to mourn at her funeral, but instead my parent's pride. I wasn't even allowed to be upset that my sister died. I wasn't-- it wasn't my place to cry or feel upset. I didn't like her even in the slightest but-- but she was my sister.

("None of you will fail us. Not again.")

Maybe I am scared.

("What's there left to do but give in, Fray?")

Maybe I am alone.

("Haven't you already failed them all?")

Maybe-- she's right?

No.

I grit my teeth and stand, winding up and throwing the gem as far into the middle of the boiling gold as I can. I don't care about anyone or anything because it makes me strong. STRONG! And strength wins the Games. No distractions wins the Games. And that's all I was ever meant to do. Win. Win the fucking Hunger Games and make my parents proud, my district proud, my everything so damn proud.

Fuck Achilles. And I don't mean in the good way.

The next time I see her I'm going to make sure she knows just how ridiculous her assumptions are, just how fucking wrong she is about me. Break my arm? I'll break her. I'll--

My head whips around as someone approaches, my hand reflexively shooting out to grab my axe. I grimace as the pain shoots up my arm and more hot blood seeps from the gash in my bicep, but I don't hesitate or flinch in my movements. It is only when I see a wide-eyed creature staring up at me with a gem in its hands and a twinkle in its eyes that I crouch down, my knees scraping against rock and the sparkling opal of my axe blade enticing the creature closer.

"You like that, huh?"

I can see it's heart beating wildly in its chest. Such a small creature, so fearful and yet so brave. It reaches out to touch my axe and I let it take the blade in its tiny little paws, swiping the gem from it the first chance I get. It doesn't seem to mind, completely enthralled by the opal.

Liquid sloshes in the gem and I can't help but chuckle as I see the name etched into the side. Achilles. And something tells me this wasn't meant for me. My grin grows wider.

"Come here, little guy," I say coaxing the creature softly towards me as I rummage through my bag for the diamond fragments I had picked up after the bloodbath. I open the small bag and show the creature the contents within. Its eyes seem to light up the instant it catches on the fragments. But that's not all I want him to take.

"I've got a little present I need you to give to your momma."

I dig into my pocket and pull out the coin she "lent" me. I plop it into the bag with the diamond fragments and tie the bag shit, handing a small fragment of diamond to the small creature before ushering it along with a smirk plastered across my face.

I shout after the creature as it disappears into the dark.

"Tell Achilles that those diamonds are worth a lap dance at least!"