girls against 𝚐̶𝚘̶𝚍̶ // tsiuri&eulalie
Sept 25, 2024 12:13:41 GMT -5
Post by d11a tsiuri dermott ☕ minie on Sept 25, 2024 12:13:41 GMT -5
A survivor, that is what Irena had called me. I survived poverty, abuse, and loss; somehow, I had always made it to the other side. I wasn’t a fighter, not one to raise my fist. But I never ran away either. I never had my own opinion’s, always shifting them to whatever people wanted to hear…whatever would get me by. Thriving off other people’s weaknesses of humanity, it all sounds a lot more cunning than it actually is.
I’m no supervillain or mastermind.
Just another girl who figured out how the world worked a little too early.
It wasn’t a challenge to come by vices in the hospital. Almost everyone too blinded by a pompous parade of wealth to care for their health. Another parallel found in opposite reasoning. Back in eleven, we needed our vices to cope. I don’t many who can afford virtue. The capitol seemed to throw that part out with the trash.
My cigarette lit in the dark sky, after the sun had set for the night. This was supposed to be when I came alive. Dancing through empty streets with rain pouring down my face, laughing loud and bold with the sinners running away from those they have hurt.
I played pretend with the devil and feared when the angles would come for my soul and there would be nothing left.
My family never believed in God; we never went to church but still here in the capitol I wished that maybe I would find a little faith. Believe in something again, fall back in love with what could be if I only let myself hope.
Hope for what?
To win the games? Fat chance. What would I have to come back too? A dog and some family, maybe the café. To any reasonable person that should be enough, it should be worth spending my energy in the training center in delusion that I could return home.
The training center was empty as dragged my muddy feet along the clean floor. Mud and leaves leaving a trail for anyone to follow if they dare. Alone in the darkness I stood surrounded by weapons and shadows of the past. Remembrance of the tributes that had come before me, but all of it would be wiped away. Still, I would want to believe that if I looked close enough maybe I would have found a hint of Marcellus somewhere around here.
My hands picked up a sword, fingers wrapping themselves around a leather handle. It was heavier than I could have imagined, needing both to hold it steady in the dark. I imagined myself a bandit, someone on the road stopping in a little old tavern. The only world in which I could see myself wielding a weapon. Another lifetime, one where I grew old and left district eleven.
I swung the weapon around, twirling my body thinking I was alone in the night. Instead, my blade had missed a blonde girl’s face by centimeters. One of the career’s from district one.
Panic settled in on my face before I began to laugh just a little bit lowering my weapon. “I’m sorry, as you can see, I don’t really know how to use this thing” I apologized with lightheartedness hoping she knew how to take a joke. Reflection of our faces staring back up at us from the blade.
This might be one of those moments I needed godly intervention.
“Maybe you can teach me?” I proposed hopefully.