Sparks Will Fly [Wish]

If there was one form of weather that Monroe Axton detested, it was rain. Which seemed a bit ironic to the twenty year old woman considering it was her middle name, her parents had loved the sound and smell of it; for her, it was simply a hindrance to travel as well as a painful reminder of all the things that had been taken from her at such a young age. Gritting her teeth against the cold the dark-haired beauty crept along the streets, not needing to be as quiet as usual due to thunder claps and laughter within the windows she darted beneath; invisible to the world it would seem. Halting at the end of an alley Monroe hitched her rucksack a bit higher on her shoulder, mentally checking off everything inside it. Somewhere in a hole she'd buried her duffel bag full of clothing, some hers and some Felix's; why she kept such things she couldn't (or simply wouldn't) say, but it didn't matter. The last time she'd had a chance to switch out her own clothing was so long ago her mind could barely recall the nice things inside that bag. Little Ms. Axton had long ago given up such nice, worldly belongings. Far too bothersome when she was constantly flitting from place to place, always fighting for something to eat, somewhere to sleep. Never in her life had she ever considered settling down with a husband, a job, a life that everyone around her had always desired and/or seemed perfectly content with.

As she prepared to dash to the other side of the street she caught sight of Peacekeepers in her peripheral vision, causing her to slip her bag into folded arms tightly while her thin frame pressed into the brick wall. It was far too late for a woman to be out and about the streets of District Six. Granted, it was the most educated of all the Districts, but that did not make those who liked to lurk in the dark and break the law any less violent. Gnawing at her bottom lip for a moment, her eyes surveyed the rain covered scenery before her; building after building, some decayed while others were brand spanking new. Catching sight of a dilapidated brick building a yard or two away, Monroe sucked in her breath; preparing for that one moment when the Peacekeepers turned away, found someone who was doing far more damage than she right then, and as soon as that moment came ... She was off like a bird, running so fast sometimes she swore she could catch flight if she just attempted it.

Reaching the building was easy, realizing there was no entrance provided a more difficult situation to say the least. Tossing her pack on her back, tying it in the front just to be safe, Monroe carefully made her way through the wreckage that seemed to completely barricade the entire structure from violators coming through. Whatever it had once been must have been special for it to still be this protected despite it's crumbling brick and missing window panes with the broken shards of glass lying every which way. Just as she thought she'd made it to the doorway with no consequence her footing slipped on the final rock, her balance gave way, and as she reached forward to grab onto anything to stop her inevitable fall a loud SHIT flew from her mouth; What she'd managed to grab onto was a window pane, and a sharp shard of glass.

As the fighter stared at her hand, her eyes widened and narrowed in shock then anger. Now, not only had she alerted many around where she was, but her hand was pierced to a window. The pain was the last thing she thought about in those few moments, adrenaline pumping through her at warp speed. And then she heard words, her heart jumped through her throat. Room? She thought, narrowing her eyes even more as she watched a figure come at her rather quickly, his words snapping her mind away from Peacekeepers, this guy looked dangerous. A growl started in her throat but she curbed it, biting into her free arm she slowly pulled her hand from the glass, had that shard been any longer it would have gone through her hand completely. He approached her and Monroe couldn't help but sneer at him for a moment, this strange and very tall being who thought he had an power over her. I am no one's possession. She stated firmly before hoisting herself out of the rain into the corridor where they both stood, looking one another up and down. Simply thought the five star rates of the place were better than the rain. Her voice almost quivered, but the determination within the woman refused to allow it.

Stepping forward she began to walk away from the man, stopping beneath a candle and sliding down the wall, her bag between her legs. Now was the time to clean her wound, dress it with what she could, and forget that she had just trailed blood throughout what apparently belonged to the blonde giant whose eyes she felt boring into her being. You may ask questions if it's in your nature. Otherwise, take a picture and get out of here, I have my own matters to attend to. With her right hand she reached into her rucksack, fingered around for a moment before grasping a tube of ointment that she'd never used as well as a pair of clean underwear. Considering she had no other form of fabric that wasn't soiled, this would have to do. In her peripherals she watched the figure of the man moving, but did not allow it to distract her from dressing the wound which refused to stop bleeding regardless of her efforts. Damn She muttered to herself, putting pressure on the hole before glancing up and allowing her unique eyes hold onto his.

Wounds were familiar to Monroe, the sort of thing she could have perfect control over if she simply put her mind to it. That whole 'mind over matter' bit that she'd heard about in her youth spent in counseling; free of charge nonetheless, the Capitol's way of apologizing she supposed. However, with the gash that continued to pump red wine from her palm, she wasn't entirely sure just how she was supposed to close that up with next to no supplies. Never had any injury she'd received on the street been so bad, and the pain was quietly seeping in despite her strong willed mind. All this on top of the tall figure staring her down, Monroe was most certainly out of her realm. If I had a realm of my own to be out of... She scoffed at herself, jerking her head up to glower at the man as he spoke. If you look around, it isn't as if I have a lot of options aside from ointment at this particular moment. She quipped. His words startled her, of course she needed to wash the wound out. Anyone with half a brain knew that, but it wasn't something she had concerned herself with considering her current location. Why did this blonde man with dark, angry eyes give two tracker jackers what happened to her wound? Was he truly so hard up he thought she'd throw herself at him if he were kind? Narrowing her eyes at him while he walked away, Monroe pressed her thumb and the underwear harder into her palm, biting her tongue as the pain finally hit her full force.

It seemed he had finally left her to handle her own situation. The raven woman wanted desperately to ointment up her wound, wrap it up, and be on her way to a secluded spot in the building to rest before the next day's random adventures that always seemed to find her. As it was, there was no way she could put ointment on this wound until the bleeding desisted completely, growling quietly to herself Monroe bored holes into the wall before her with her eyes, the flickering light creating a rather creepy atmosphere to go with the man who had just left her presence. That one has a God complex, most certainly. She thought, her head falling back against the wall with a soft thump whilst a soft sigh flew from her lips. For the first time in awhile her mind wasn't racing, she wasn't wondering what was going to happen next, the man had disappeared and she was extremely grateful for that. Though Monroe did not understand his reasons for vanishing, it seemed to her that finally at least one person understood her desire to fight the world completely alone. Such thoughts were short lived and her calmness quickly evaporated at the sound of footsteps she could have sworn she'd just gotten rid of.

I thought I'd made myself clear. Don't you have somewhere else to sleep? Anyone else to hover over? She questioned, a hint of anger and irritation stabbing her untintentinally silky voice. The moment he knelt before her every single guard within Monroe's persona went up, alarms blaring inside her head. As he dragged his had toward her the fair, petite woman glared and hard. Her eyes narrow and full of fire whilst he commented on her underwear. Oh, you know, I just think they're far more fashionable than proper bandages. Her voice was ice as she jerked her hand, but his grip far surpassed the strength she possessed in her small body. Before she could speak again her eyes caught the bottle of alcohol, watched him upend it on her wound, and fire seered from her palm all the way through her body. Pure instinct threw her uninjured palm against his cheek. Are you fucking kidding me? She belted, dots blurring her vision. Surely the alcohol had just entered her blood stream considering how deep her wound was. The pain caused her stomach to turn, her eyes to water a bit, and her other fist to clench; and despite all that he had maintained a grip on the wounded hand, managed to keep her from escaping his grasp. As much as I appreciate being healed violently... Her words halted as her eyes met his.

There was something in those eyes she could not understand, something that caused her suspicion to dissipate if only for seconds at a time. And here he was healing her hand as if she was his best friend. Of course, Monroe knew all too well how capable humanity was of fooling one into believing they're far kinder than they are. What do you want? Her words were jagged whispers as she attempted to understand the expression in those eyes. Dropping her gaze to the wound she watched white bubbles around the wound slowly disappear, the violent pain soothing itself into a dull ache. I know you aren't fool enough to believe I can or will pay you for your help. And that is as close to a thank you as Monroe had gotten since she was eight years old or younger.

There were far too many unfamiliar emotions wracking Monroe that rather than even attempt to define even one, she reverted to anger; something she knew plenty about. Grinding her teeth together against the pain of the alcohol killing any possible infection, and probably some of her blood cells with it, she bit back the cruel insults that she wanted to toss at the blonde man before her. Somewhere within her she felt a bit warm towards him but it was covered in barbed wire and hatred, but her survival instincts were willing to allow the wound to be healed however possible. Raising a brow at his comment Monroe's response was halted while her body was suddenly airborne with his. I'm sure you do. She stated snidely, unsure of this man's intentions but convinced they existed. Through the darkened hallways her danger sirens were blaring within her, causing the petite woman to twist and contort her wrist in anyway that showed she was not about to just bow down and let him take whatever he wanted from her.

For the twenty year old woman, being taken care of was a distant memory. Even when the Capitol provided her with the finest of finery, she was always stealing her food and earning money for herself, she refused to allow anyone to make her their slave, refused to owe anyone for anything. The loss of her brother had instilled in Little Axton that she was the only person on earth worth relying on, everyone else was out for themselves ... So shouldn't she be as well? Having her arm gripped tightly in a strangers hand, being dragged through a dark and unfamiliar building was making her nauseas and violently angry to say the least. I'm fully capable of walking on my own. The words came out almost a snarl, but she bit back most of the ice in hopes that she could at least get the bandaging before plotting a way to escape the idiotic situation she'd managed to land herself in.

They stopped and he began searching around a supply closet, and before she knew it the room was flooded with light. The word sutures had her attention and suddenly her eyes darted down to her palm, the realized that stitches were necessary for her lovely wound finally settled. Look, whoever you are, I don't need any help much less some stranger stitching up my palm like it's his right to do so. Forget getting bandaged up, she could find something wrap around her palm until it healed herself just fine without him. But as she turned to walk away something forced her to turn and look at him, her eyebrows raised cautiously, her expression hardened and determined that she did not need anyone's help. Why does it matter to you anyway? She questioned, as the words left her lips the sutures on the shelf to the right of his face caught her eye. With her free hand she pointed. I spy with my little eye She muttered before turning and exiting the enclosed space. .

Prometheus? The hint of a smirk started at the corner of her eyes and quickly vanished as he continued to speak. Raising yet another brow at his words Monroe wasn't sure what to say next, he was claiming the wreck of a building they were in as his own? I'm far from a stray Prometheus. After all, not all who wander are lost. Her words were true and matter o' fact, and Monroe most certainly had little desire to share her name with anyone, much less this man who seemed very 'holier than thou' in his attitude. And I have to say, it would seem to me you're the squatter. I simply wanted to wait out the rain. She stated before rolling her eyes, gangrene? As if she hadn't thought of that already. It simply seemed far less terrifying in comparison to sitting with a man whose eyes pierced into her in a way that made little sense at all. No one had looked her in the eye since she'd watched her brother stare her down on that screen. Pinching the bridge of her nose Monroe forced the image, that had haunted her since, as far from her mind as she could get it.

And if you are so attached why on earth has it become so dilapidated, hmm? She questioned, her brows furrowing at his smile. Why on earth was he smiling at her? She wasn't being witty or funny, and the word flirty most certainly didn't even have a home in Monroe's vocabulary as any contact she'd had with humanity usually had to do with rage, pain, or helping children because no one else would. Which was about as nice as she ever behaved. Watching the sutures come down from the shelf thanks to Prometheus' hands Monroe felt herself swallow a bit harder than usual, needles were definitely not the twenty year old's thing ... and from what she knew about getting stitches, that involved getting prodded repeatedly with .. a needle. I'm sure that we could super glue it shut and it would be just as effective. She thought, biting at her lower lip for only a moment, squeezing her eyes shut, and finally offering her hand up to the man rather than darting through the nearest window as she desperately wanted to do. With a deep sigh she finally let her blue and brown eyes lock with his own. Suppose I can't very well fight or defend myself if my hand is wounded now can I. For Monroe, this was not a question, merely a statement, and it was the only way she was going to be able to maintain her dignity in her own mind.

Gritting her teeth as the needle pierced her skin Monroe felt a bead of sweat begin at her hairline. Mentally she did everything she could to ignore the pain, remembered every good moment she could muster, but they were far and few between -- most from the days before her age had even hit double digits. Take slow, deep breaths, the pain of being prodded finally subsided and her eyes fell on the now sewn up wound in her palm; a definite scar to remind her that, no matter how confident she was, she was still a human fully capable of weakness. You know what you're doing. She stated with a low voice, letting her hand fall from his before gazing up at him. Now, if it's alright with the master of the house I'm going to make myself some dinner and remain in the corridor until dawn or the rain stops; whichever comes first. Her words were not a question, and with that she began to turn to walk away.

A barely perceptible smirk slipped onto her supple lips, at least he was intriguing enough to keep her from darting into the rain. Though her guard remained high whilst the piercing pain in her palm dulled into a throb. Being dragged towards a kitchen to be fed had not been what Monroe considered when mentioning the meal, in fact in her pack were several cans of stew which she could heat up with a miniature stove meant for travel. I've gone from a squatter to a guest, have I? I feel I should have a room key and soft towels too. The joke came out sounding far more serious which caused Monroe to purse her lips and eyebrows, realizing that she no longer possessed a sense of humor on demand. The world truly had made her hard. Shrugging internally Monroe allowed herself to be dragged, attempting to ignore the nigling in her mind Curiosity killed the cat...

But doesn't 'The Girl' have such a nice ring to it? Monroe asked, unwilling to simply relinquish such information about herself. Already the situation was far more personal than she'd been with anyone in years, the idea of simply handing over her title seemed almost nauseating, anyone could use it as a curse word or anything else they wanted. This man was going to have to do far more than stitch up her wound and attempt to feed her in a darkened building to get her to open up to him. Before she could open her mouth to say anything more in that matter Prometheus pressed his ear to a wooden door. With a tilt of her head Monroe watched curiously, the moans surely meant someone was in some sort of pleasure, but what on earth or any other planet could cause such a sound? Cause such pleasure? Before she had a moment to ask she jumped back a foot or two as he broke the door open, rage replacing what she was sure most would call kindness. With wide eyes she took in the nudity of the two in the room, the fear he instilled within them, and then had to stifle a giggle that she was unfamiliar with at their name for him. Disciples of the Moon? Master Illuminator? There's always something with someone now isn't there? She thought, raking her fingers through her tangled yet somehow silky, dark hair.

Watching the two dart away into the darkness Monroe cast her gaze back on Prometheus, raising her eyebrows with a question mark written all over her expression. Before she had a moment to ask her questions he had her in his grasp again, dragging her along like a rag doll. Alright. She stated simply, halting where she stood and holding back with all her strength. What the hell were they doing and what do you mean inhabitants? Are you as crazy as I thought when I first encountered you because quite honestly Master Illuminator I'm not a fan of insanity. The words weren't quite as biting as she would have liked, but the look of flustered pleasure fading from those two young one's eyes and cheeks was tattooed to her mind, she wanted to understand. What on earth were they doing that caused such anger in you? Part of her wanted to lash out, to say cruel things to him. Whereas, the more dominant part of twenty year old, Monroe Axton, wanted to know whatever it is they knew. Because if it was going to get you in trouble, then obviously it had to be fun enough to be worth it. You answer my questions, Prometheus and I shall answer yours.

Throughout her lifetime Monroe Axton had experienced many violent and terrifying things, she had suffered and cried. And one day, the tears stopped and hadn't reappeared, not for years. And never had she ever seen much less participated in any intimate acts. The twenty year old had never even had so much as a kiss, much less been the second half of a sexual encounter. Nudity had always been private to her, the sight of her own body something she'd never considered. The thought of the two and their complete exposure was burning at the front of her mind until Prometheus' tone snapped her back to reality. Catching his eye she smirked, realizing she'd found a button of his. And who said I was mocking? She smirked in response to her own question, obviously there were some dark things that she had stumbled upon, things that may or may not be worth exploring further. Do tell, what sort of world have I foolishly come across? She questioned him, ignoring his mention of people in his care. What did she care of them aside from their location? In an effort to keep further explanation she held her hand up and shook her head, Monroe wanted to know nothing of the special going-ons of the not-so-abandoned hospital.

It was only now that Monroe realized how small she was compared to Prometheus, his eyes were blazing with so many emotions that she was unable to keep up, and at this point she'd backed into a wall to keep him from falling right over on top of her. As he backed away from her the angry heat both had felt began to disappate. Biting at her lower lip Monroe shot her glance downward, attempting to figure out something in her mind. But honestly, she had no idea how family's were created, what men and women did in the privacy of their own rooms. Why don't you educate me. She suggested snidely, feeling quite inadequate for the first time in years. Evidently there were things in life that she had no knowledge of whatsoever. Considering I already appear quite foolish, I dare ask, what is sex? Rather than respond to his final comments Monroe simply nodded, her index finger picking at a hangnail on her thumb absentmindedly. At the moment, her mind was racing with attempts to process and learn what he was talking about --- But no one can learn how to speak if they've never heard the words nor could Monroe understand sexual activity if she'd never been told or exposed.

SORRY SO SHORT!!

With wide eyes Monroe cast her eyes to the ground and bit her bottom lip, completely unfamiliar with the feeling of being inferior. She did not like discovering an act that, apparently, everyone else was aware of and finding that she was completely ignorant. You see ... She stopped herself at his words, eyebrows narrowing as he took her words as some sort of flattery, was he insane? Why on earth would her questions flatter him whatsoever. I have no idea what you mean, but I can assure you nothing I have to say to you is flattery. She snapped. And then her seriousness, her innocence really, sunk in. She watched the realization cross his face and into his eyes as he spoke. Wrapping her arms around herself in softly, Monroe stared at him with her large, chocolate-blue eyes, unsure of what to say next and suddenly very, very uncomfortable in her own skin. What was this feeling?

Watching nervousness overcome Prometheus was the only source of comfort Monroe found in the situation. And that bothered her even more, what was so strange about her question that he had to behave scared or nervous to answer her question. Look, I've been on my own quite a long time, if you cannot answer my question then simply say so. Don't be such a little sprite about it. Her tone was far crueler than she originally intended, though that was considered the norm for the remaining Axton. Sex. She nodded, the words almost a question, but not quite. She'd heard of it, sort of, the word came up in conversations in many of her memories. However, she'd never taken note, never bothered to care. Was this what people were doing when they'd told her they'd be right back? Was this what those women on the street were paid to do when there were cash transactions and then they vanished with strangers? Monroe watched his lips, his facial expressions, she studied every inch of the man before her attempting to truly understand what it was he was describing to her. Attraction was not something she'd ever understood, much like any kind emotion. So how was it that her body was stirring within her as if someone had lit a fire in an attempt to boil her blood?

I ... erm ... Pleasure ... For the first time in her life Monroe Axton was, quite simply, at a loss for words. Something about the word sex appealed to her, the idea of two coming together as one. And yet at the same time, she was absolutely disgusted. Tucking a strand of raven-black hair behind her ear she sighed loudly, hooking her thumbs in her belt loops and leaning back against the nearest wall, grimacing as her palm jerked against it's stitches. It sounds ... strange, almost repulsive...but not quite. Catching his eye she smiled softly, not breaking eye contact, and tilted her head to the side. So what's it like? When it's simply for pleasure? Mind you, I'm not requesting a demonstration, but ... if it's so wonderful those two had to break your rules ... it must be amazing to say the least. And obviously, for you to ban such a thing, it means you must have, at one point, truly enjoyed it too. Monroe barely understood the words coming out of her mouth yet they seemed fluid, perfect for the absolute train wreck of thoughts clustered in her head. Thank you for explaining that to me ... Shall we continue? Nodding towards the kitchen Monroe pushed herself from the wall with her foot and began walking down the darkened hallway, oblivious of exactly where she was supposed to be going, only knowing that perhaps if she distracted herself from what she just learned, then she wouldn't be so damned curious.