Exaggerate a Thought [Marr|VT]

There's no preparing for Twelve. If there was any way to prepare for District Twelve, he would have accepted it from anyone. Even the one and only Wendell Gordon, who still resides in his mind with words that had set his skin aflame. The phantom pain that resides in his leg never truly easing itself, but he never expected it to get better. It's like Wendell was always clawing at him with the memory of blood in his eyes and a tearing that echoes through his body. The scream that echoed from his lungs vibrating in his ears.

It was always there with the missing leg, but he'd learn to get used to it.

This wasn't the reason that he was terrified of District Twelve. It was how he had seen them. Dandy Gordon's bloody throat still is covered in red in his eyes. Wendell Gordon's words still haunt him in dreams of silver and crimson that hide behind the bladed weapon that he ended up carrying out of the arena. There's still a whisper of District Twelve that he wanted to know. Wendell Gordon carried good just like Dandy Gordon had. There's still missing pieces to the puzzle that were District Twelve's tributes, but he spoke of them like he was meant to.

Lost souls, who would be remembered by the people. He still slinks down when the peacekeepers take him back into the Justice Building. It was only for a night or so that they would have to stay there. It's not that he doesn't want to be there and to see who Wendell and Dandy were, but it's the taste of the dry air that sends a shiver down his spine. The look upon people who had just watched him speak up about Dandy, who he only knew got her throat slit by Chester, and Wendell, who wasn't the greatest person that he knew in the arena. They could read his lack of comfort on the stage with just a glance as he climbed back inside.

Officer Moon's eyes staring into his heart for a second before he looks away and thinks of what to do until the dinner. A quiet day in a district filled with people who could hate him just for being alive. The thought was terrifying in his mind. Hands shaking as he flicks his finger against his thigh to make them stop. He's already taken off the dress shirt for a more comfortable sweater that keeps his chilled skin warm from the fall breeze that was beginning to come. The skies were growing more clouded with every day that it reminds him that he's still alive and that there's no water or sand to send him into a panic. There's no molten rock that flows gently behind him with a heat that grows upon the skin.

District Twelve had problems, he could see it in their way of life. It's like the outskirts of District Six that he had seen when Ma took him to see them and help where he could. He's always been a kind soul, the type to give away food to others who couldn't afford it. That's why he handed a few spare bills from his pocket to an older woman that he passed by. Silence in his mind as he stares forward, walking where the day will take him. There's people watching him like he's the most important person in the world, but he ignores their eyes. Peacekeepers were meant to be near him for his safety and monitoring, at least that's what his mind would tell him that Snow would have done.

The smile still is burned into his head from the party.

The man who held the power was a rather scary man.

Someone that he didn't want to get on his bad side.

A small smile is directed towards the people who pass him, but no one stops. They all were too busy trying to live than to see him and that was fine with him. He preferred that to being forced to talk. He's not exactly the most talkative person. A quiet day wouldn't have been bad for him. It'd be like home int he quiet house where Ma had died. There's a flutter of his heart as he thinks of seeing her grave. All he can do is try and move forward with thoughts of his forgotten memories filling his head. He's remembering more and more everyday. Something to do with what the capitolites had done was his guess, but he didn't mind.

As long as he could remember who Theodore Ursa was.

That's when he can feel himself growing tired for a second. The pain in his missing half of his left leg and foot flares to life. He sits down on a bench with hands that tense in his pockets as he breaths deeply. It's quiet and no one minds him as he sits there with hands tense. It's painful, but it'd pass in a moment. All he could do was stare at the district around him. People of all kinds passing by him with different emotions. Life seemed to move on around him, but he can't help but feel like he'll never be like them again.

Not like he used to be.

It was only a thought.