Take These Broken Wings // [Leo/Charbon]

She should not have been there, late at night, her makeup smeared and her hair frazzled. She had no business in the Olympic Village, as she wasn't a competitor nor a direct relation to any. But then, she shouldn't have been in District Four at all. No one wanted to see the black sheep side of the Shores. They were eye sores, a pestilence on an otherwise famous and worthy name. The irony being that she could have met their standards, with a little kindness and a little support. But oh no, Ripred forbid anyone in the Shore family take any responsibility for the hardships that their brethren faced.

She felt the sting most acutely as her cousins competed in the Olympics. Some did well, some did poorly, but all were in the spotlight, able to parlay their powerful name into the competitions. She hadn't made the cut for anything, not even the stupid discus throw. And what was she stuck doing instead? Volunteering at the cotton candy booth. Which made her fingers sticky and her whole body smell like ketosis, a leap beyond the coying sweet of sugar and somewhere into lethal territory.

She didn't mind the smell. In fact, it was the only thing about District Four that she liked. She had finished her second shift of the day, arm deep in red apple flavored spun sugar. It was left to her to clean the machine, close out the cash register and generally set things right. And instead of wandering to the massive bunk that she shared with who knows how many other transplants from District One, she took to the streets. Her makeup was never perfect; she could afford to fix it up every day. Mascara and eyeliner were expensive, if you wanted any worth its weight. So it spread and smeared as she waited for the third day of each cycle. That would be tomorrow, a glorious new morning with a cold shower and fresh makeup.

But until then she looked like a prostitute, and not the good kind. When people leered at her, she flipped them off and continued on her way. Four was a genteel place after all; not too many dark alleys, at least not in the Olympic Village. She realized after a time that all of the street signs were marked with Two. Not, then, her home district. That was a relief. At least she wouldn't be running into any unsuspecting cousins while she was trying to wind down.

She turned and turned and turned, down endless rows until she was thoroughly lost. Thoroughly submerged. And while there were still others out past the witching hour, their numbers had thinned. No one had propositioned her in many streets. She almost comfortable. Surrounded but anonymous.

It was empowering.

Here, she was not a Shore, a destination for the tide. Here, she was only another competitor, and perhaps one from District Two. She lifted her head, wiped beneath her eyes to appear more put-together, and made her choice. She approached the porch with little more to go on than the glittering eyes in the dark, and said, "Sleep is for the weak, eh? You feel like keeping a girl company? Oh, not that kind though. Just company enough. What do you say?"