Siberite Obsidian | District Two {FIN}

Dear Andesite,

Fear is a reality for all of us, whether we choose to admit it or not. Evading the firm grasp of death’s ever-looming threat is a feat not many can accomplish, and unfortunately, you weren’t one of the ones who could. We’d met only once, and I utilised a non-genuine name as my title during our introduction. This I regret, as it may have been possible for us to end on a better note, with you being aware that you do indeed have family remaining, aside from the cruel man that you supposed was your uncle. Flynn was never a relative to you, and he was purely, for lack of a better term, a bully.

He may have made promises to you, but they were never genuine. Flynn told us all that he would take good care of you, but in your final words, it was revealed that there was more conflict there than friendliness. Upon further investigation, speaking with another child who was under this man's wing of abuse, we found how he truly was. Although, reporting him was not an option. There would be too much chaos, and, to my disappointment, there is nothing I can do to avenge what he did to you before the Games. I also can't take back what happened in the Games, and stop Noelia from killing you. I know you'll never read this letter, but it comforts me to put these words on paper.

When we became acquainted for the very first time, I was surprised that you didn't work out that we were of the same bloodline. I'm the son of your real uncle (not Flynn), and even though you had never heard of me, I was surprised that your clever young mind didn't decipher my origin. Then again, we were both rather small at the time, and relatively, in a sense, still new to the world, despite having been alive for a sufficient enough amount of time to walk and talk. We looked so much alike, sharing the same blond hair and very similar facial features. I remember seeing you on our screens for the Games and thinking about how much we resembled one another. I wish these days, however, that I had been the one to go into the Games instead of you, but my young age prevented me from taking your place.

I'm sure that, due to living with Flynn for such a large portion of your life, you had scars littering your body like I do. Of course, I wouldn't know for sure if you did, but it's just a guess. I certainly do. My training throughout the years has earned me some battle wounds. Luckily I never became a fatality. I wish I could rewind time and prevent you from ever being one. You never deserved to die, and certainly not that soon. You weren't ready to fight, yet.

To be entirely honest, however, I don't know if I'm even prepared to fight at this point in my life, at sixteen years of age. It's hard to tell if someone's ready, really, until they face the Hunger Games themselves. I'm not sure if I'll ever know if I would have survived the Games. That is, unless I go in myself. It's somewhat of a frightening thought, but at the same time, it thrills me. I’ve trained as a career  for years. Perhaps I'm too cocky, thinking that I'd win the Games if I went in. After all, I had confidence in you, but you died so soon. It's not your fault, of course. I just may never know if I would have had the same happen to me. Perhaps that's a good thing.

I suppose, now, it may be best for me to properly introduce myself and explain who I am, as we never really got to know one another. My name is Siberite Obsidian. I generally get called Siber by those who I consider my friends. It's always been my favorite nickname to be referred to as. People have, of course, tried other names for me, such as Sibe, but I wasn't too fond of that. My friends and I often spend time joking around with one another, or helping each other out in the training center. I suppose you could consider us all a bunch of career kids.

Often, I wish that my little career pack could have included more than just my brother, a few friends and I. Regardless, I think that we're a rather strong group, as well as rather tough individuals when we're fighting on our own. Some people scold me for it, but I'm also known to be a bit of a thief. I steal from those who are unaware, but, shortly after your death, I learned that you did that, too. It made me feel less guilty about the task, whether or not that's a positive thing, and I continue to steal from others to this day.

My brother Alexandrite and I are quite close. I call him Alex, and he's always been there for me. Despite the fact that he's not even of reaping age yet, he's still quite the shocking career for his age. Although, I think, due to my knowledge of combat and the fact that I've been training for longer than he has, I'm much better in the realm of the careers. Regardless, we allow him to train with us, as I care about him, and wouldn't want to leave him out. You could have been a fantastic addition to our little clan, too, I think, dear cousin.

I visit your grave sometimes, wishing it were possible to bring back the dead just as they were when they were living. I suppose, though, you're now wherever the dead go, along with my father. I live with just my mother and younger brother now, but I'd say we're a happy bunch. We just miss those who have departed too early. Regardless, I'm sure that if there's an afterlife of some sort, you're there, fighting to be king.

Although in some ways I'd consider myself similar to you in personality, I'm still quite unique. I tend to be rather straightforward in the way I speak to people. When it comes to telling them what I think, I don't back down. This will sometimes cause them to be angry with me, and I guess that makes me a bit of an outcast. Monday Daidom tells me you were a bit of an outcast, too. I guess we're similar in that way.

It's nice being able to tell you more about myself, even though you're gone. For example; I've always loved animals. I'm not a vegetarian, but I don't feel that I could ever get myself to willingly hurt an innocent animal. Humans, for some reason, are different to me. I just want to fight them in the Games. I don't really care if they die, as long as it ensures my survival, no matter how cruel that sounds. Perhaps I'm just a cruel individual and don't entirely want to come to terms with it.

I'd consider myself a hopeless romantic, too. I want to find someone that I love who loves me back. I always try to flirt or to get other people to like me, but maybe I'm just not good enough at it. Sometimes, I'm curious as to if you would have been a guy who was good at attracting other people when you got older. I suppose I'd never know that, though. It's not important now, either. You're still important, but perhaps the little details aren't.

Maybe you'll learn more about me if we meet in whatever afterlife may exist. As for now, I'll tell you that I'm very caring about those who are alive around me, and those who are passed. I hope I never have to have any of those on the side of the living cross over, however, as I care for them all too dearly. Maybe I'll see you seen. Maybe I won't.

Your Dear Cousin,
[googlefont="Sacramento:400"]Siberite Obsidian
Siberite Obsidian