//NEVER |get| o.l.d// [Topaz/Nash]

It's hard to remember, it's hard to remember
We're alive for the first time
It's hard to remember
We're alive for the last time

Nash Harvey —

Running had never been one of Nash's strong points. Or, at least, not for long distances. She was a pretty quick sprinter, but with body type as wiry as hers, was certainly not built for stamina. Though it had been mostly spared from damage by the leg armour, her cut up thigh did little to improve the tribute's running ability. And, of course, this wasn't helped by the weight of the gear on her back, which was presently threatening to pull her down backwards into the loamy soil. But with the knowledge that she would never in her life be able to will herself back up if that were to happen, Nash pressed on, trying to keep up with the tribute she'd followed into and out of battle.

Why'd she do that? The victors from the previous Games could certainly attest to the 'safety in numbers' Rule of General Knowledge — the most recent two having belonged to larger groups of tributes. They'd thrown that away on impulse. With a pang, the District Two tribute realized that they had fit the alliances that produced victors to a T in formula: Careers, mostly, and a token District 12 kid. Did that mean Anani was on track to win this year? For some reason, Nash desperately hoped not. He'd come off as whiny and self-pitying, though she'd never really taken the time to get to know him that well. Never cared to. She just know that he hadn't delivered on his promise of sponsorship — did the Capitol citizens want him dead just as much as the other tributes, as the Gamemakers?

At last approaching the other tribute, a winded Nash realized it was a minor miracle that she'd been able to keep up with and catch up to Topaz at all. She did her best to appear as unaffected by the long run as possible — regardless of the fact that Topaz had specifically invited her and not the others, Nash still felt the need to demonstrate the fact that she was, in fact, physically competent, despite her training score and lack of kills early on. However, she still did little more than nod in response to the red-haired tribute's greeting, lungs still preoccupied with getting oxygen actually in to her body.

As she caught her breath, Nash took the opportunity and lapse in conversation to consider her one and only ally. She'd known when the original alliance was first formed that Topaz would be the one to watch out for — a hardcore career, or so Nash had pegged her to be. And those were the ones without shame or remorse in betrayal, who never hesitated to stab first, ask questions later. Yet, here stood the District Two tribute with the one who, in all probability, would kill Nash without batting an eyelash — and she had absolutely no trouble trusting the District One.

Trusting her enough, in fact, to answer her first proposal without hesitation — no time for the Two to even try to intervene. Immediately, anyhow. "Yeah," she agreed, breathing finally evened out from the long run. Her pulse was nearing its typical sixty-eight beats per minute, a familiarly steady rhythm that eased itself back into silence from the boisterous exertion-induced thudding that echoed in her temples. Nash could feel her will to keep open her eyelids dropping with her heart rate. "I think that'd be okay. Good. A full night of sleep would be…"

Dangerous. Well-earned. Lethal. Probably the last one you'll ever have the chance for. No, seriously, she's going to knife you. Even if that were the case, you'd never have to wake up, and how bad could that be? Unless you did away with her first. You wouldn't even think about it.

"…probably about the greatest thing in the world." And by what sort of Gamemaker intervention had they managed to lose a sleeping bag en route? Nash could've sworn they'd been packed up pretty well. But with the commotion caused by the hellhounds — not to mention ditching Takeba and Anani — it was hard to really be sure of any specific detail from earlier in the day. Damn. Couldn't have been more than an hour ago.

"No, you go ahead then, I don't mind — take it. I'll be okay without one." How much colder could the Arena get? It wasn't as though it was snowing or anything — not frozen like it had been two years before. In fact, for the Hunger Games, the weather was about as perfect as could be asked for, especially considering the other extreme visited by the Gamemakers the previous year. Intense heat was another climate that wasn't particularly desirable. Besides, it wouldn't get much colder than it had been in the morgue, and Nash never had much trouble getting any rest on the nights she'd spent sleeping there.

Somehow, sleeping in the Arena was just about the same as in the mortuary: it had that sterile feel, like it wasn't exactly natural, and the black cloud of death still hovered, a shadow cast over was was, in any other circumstance, an ordinary piece of real estate. Except back in District Two, it never bothered Nash. The morbid, ominous atmosphere was a welcome thrill there, a gentile, though present, hint that life was short and death was beyond bargaining with. Here, though, the same feeling was in full force: all the more sudden. All the more real. All the less thrilling. Here, the anxiety wasn't riveting, it was tense. And the reminder that death was a real thing had transformed into an arrogant display of how damn near around the corner — how right in plain view it was.

The daunting prospect of death was not something Nash tried to think about so much now that she was actually in the Arena. But when she got caught up in her own head — and, honestly, it happened a lot more since she'd been taken from the district by train — there were few things that could pull her out. Sleep was one of them. Topaz's voice, it seemed, was another. "So...you followed. Like I wanted you to. Can I ask...why? Why did you listen?"

Why indeed. Nash had been considering the very question since she actually had left, not convinced that it was strictly for any one reason. A small part of it had been strategy — or was that the large part? — and another had been social interest, and another the strange reverence she held for the she-hound.

"I listened," she started, her head tilting to the side slightly, as though in confusion. "I listened because I had been thinking of doing the same thing. And you made up my mind for me — no easy task, let me tell you — I guess. So I followed." Pausing for a few moments gave Nash time to work out what she wanted to say next, to choose her words carefully. To decide if she even wanted to use them at all.

"And, well, to be honest… I like you more than them two." Spineless, g— "I actually like you kind of a lot," she finished matter-of-factly, grateful for the fact that her hair was obscuring her ears — the tops of which she could feel turning red. Her eyes found the hunting knife she'd been carrying as a back-up weapon to her harpoon — because this was the sort of reveal that had a tendency to be received not-so-well, and it never hurt to have an exit strategy. The focal point also made it easier for Nash to not search the other girl's face for a reaction.