intoxicating // [merry ratmas stare<3]
Dec 21, 2016 19:55:48 GMT -5
Post by sbeeg on Dec 21, 2016 19:55:48 GMT -5
Benedict Nolan
Your eyes are staring at odds and figures, the men around you trying to grab a victor to put money on from your lips. You were always right. Benedict Nolan- the best in the game. Always had big money on the best tributes and always came out on top, and at such a young age too. However, today was different. Green eyes glare at the paper, looking at the names and numbers and seeing nothing at all.
"Hey there, Trouble."
The memory of her voice fills your brain, and your lip jerks up exposing perfect, white teeth.
"He's got a winner!" a gruff voice calls. A meaty hands lands on your shoulder, shaking you around in an attempt to pull the name out of you. You lightly brush the hand away and ti retreats to its owner.
"Not today, maybe tomorrow," you say, standing up and dropping the paperwork onto the table.
You walk out of the gambling den, and the other men are up in arms. What has happened to that talented young man? He's acting... well he's acting like a kid.
Hands in your pocket, and red hair in your mind, you walk through the square. There are many stores begging for the cash in your pocket, but you're not too willing to spend it on just anything. It has to be perfect. The wind is cold and people huddle in their winter coats, but the weather doesn't bother you. Not even the stitched up wound in your side seems to be annoyed by the chill. The only thing about snow is that you didn't know of any flowers that blossomed in it.
Still, the growing optimist, you stepped into the little shop at the end of the street. A bell rang as you pushed the green painted door aside. It was a tiny shop, filled with shelves of seeds and small garden tools. Nothing grew fantastically well in the smog of District Nine, but not for lack of trying. A wrinkled old woman stood behind the counter, and peered up at you through thick spectacles.
"Excuse me, you don't happen to have any flowers I could buy?" So polite, and lacking the usual snark. How strange.
The woman squinted in thought before bringing out a little pot of pink flowers. They had thin green stems and light pink petals.
"Sweet pea," the woman said, motioning to the blossoms.
"I'll take them."
Crossing the district, the sun was starting to dip into the buildings. The soft orange glow bounced of the snow, bathing everything in warm hues.
When you walked up to the house the lights were on in the front room. So, you rerouted through the side yard, through the gate and up to the window you had crawled out of a few weeks earlier.
Suddenly, you were aware of yourself. Benedict holding flowers and grinning like a madman, sneaking up to a girl's window in the evening just to be able to see her again.
What had happened to you?
Still, nothing could stop the desire in your chest. You had to see her again. To smell her hair and listen to her voice. To feel her hands on your skin, and to just talk with her. Banter and bicker and just be.
You bite down on your lip, aware that you can't believe how deeply you care for this woman and yet you can.
Taking a deep breath, you step up to her bedroom window and knock your knuckles against the glass.
Here comes, Trouble.