nailing all the high notes - {hot girl summer <3}

l u c i a valentine .

It feels as if time blinks in and out of focus.

Flash. She's standing with her stylist, grimacing at a thin, shiny strip of magenta fabric meant to be her uniform. Flash. She is rising into the bright light of a concert venue, warm sand just a step away. Flash. There's blood on her shoes, on her hands, a tribute has stumbled off his plate and in a terrifying blast of red, Lucia has seconds to deal with watching a human being die for the first time before the gong sounds. Flash.

She charges into what should be the worst day of her young life — but it seems she had it all wrong. Disregarding the dull ache that runs along her collarbone and throat, and blocking out the memory of a person literally exploding before her eyes, Lucia feels about the same as she would after an easy round of Exy. She hasn't been an athlete in over two years now, and yet she hardly feels winded. Her hands are shaking because of the blood that's starting to dry on her skin; the bits and pieces that made up a person are still clinging to the sand.

It's not something she knows how to make sense of, or even understands how to process. She can't blame all the kids who instantly turned on their heel and ran. A part of her had felt the same instinct, an urge to panic and find shelter. An aching part of her has to wonder what the kid's family must be thinking — how do you mourn something once it's been obliterated? She shakes her head, brown pigtails loosely tied and falling over her shoulders. At least her own family will not have to watch Lucia be eviscerated on the very first day. When hope dies in one place, it thrives elsewhere.

She breathes deep, and reminds herself that she is alive. When the neon colors mask the scarlet spray of blood in the sand, she allows it. It's a stain she can't name, and it doesn't need one. Lucia is standing quietly as her district partner and the stranger, who Vera seems at ease around, excitedly loot through the wealth scattered around their feet. It's not that she's shy, or feels she didn't play a hand in to secure the bounty, but she can also see at a glance that there is more than enough to go around.

A part of her feels bad. But what is she supposed to do? Call out for the others to come running back so they can equally divide the rewards? It's a rational impulse, there is an abundance of food and water and weapons and healing supplies. Plenty enough to be shared with people who need it. She has to remind herself that she needs to want these people to have worse odds than her. Selfishness doesn't come naturally, but patience does. She's happy to survey their surroundings and keep watch as the others celebrate.

When the stranger, who introduces herself as Nori, approaches with her heart-shaped sunglasses on, Lucia is quick to return her smile. She doesn't notice the girl gazing at the bruise that has formed at the base of her throat, but the soft tone of her voice when she asks, "You alright?" helps to clue Lucia in. She dismissively waves her hand in front of her. Her smile remains, her tone light and slow.

"Don't worry, I'm fine. Well — I'm intact, at least." She bites her lower lip, hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "I'd be willing to take a lot more than one throat punch to unsee what happened to that kid." She doesn't need to describe it or draw attention to it, she knows that the trauma of that sight will be something that connects all of the tributes until each of their threads are cut. Quickly trying to change the conversation, she tilts her head to Vera approaching. "I'm Lucia," she tells Nori before their ally can join them. "Thanks for checking on me."

Once Vera closes the distance, she is quick to officially introduce her two friends to one another. This makes Lucia chuckle a bit, shooting Nori a knowing, playful glance. Then her district partner offers to help her find a medicinal balm for her bruise, which Lucia is quick to wave off once again. "That's sweet, but I promise I'm okay. I bruise easy, but I heal quick." Either way, she has to accept that this tiny wound will only be the first of many. At least this is an injury she can sleep off.

"I say we focus on our shiny toys. You both should take whatever you want." She means this earnestly, only stopping to gather the most basic essentials as they walk, happy to wait and rummage through the leftover items once her companions are done. "And my guess is those big pens are for that huge canvas over there: you think anyone would come if we wrote SOS?" She laughs dryly, looking down at her shoes for a moment, willing herself to adapt and accept this unknown environment as her new reality. The music blaring behind her makes her struggle to even hear her own thoughts.

"I have a proposition: to make us more deserving of being the wealth winners, how about we take these new weapons and go shut those robots up for good? Can't have a good bloodbath without murder."