what hearts hold :d11train:

She stepped out of the justice building squinting as the sun hit her eyes. District Eleven was always a place of growth, rich soil watered with blood, but fertile all the same. She'd miss it. The warm sun and lush orchards. The dirt roads crisscrossing the farms and the smoothed over cobblestones of the square. Kassandra marched towards the train station, flanked by tall men in white uniforms. She stopped, looking over her shoulder at the small path ways leading off from the square. In one of the narrow alleyways was where she became an orphan. Kassandra no longer remembers where it was, if it was beside the grocer or the tailor. If it was next to the square or further out near the farms. It doesn't matter much anymore.

Kassandra moved onto the platform, a breeze catching the fringe sewn to the edge of her shawl. It missing in places, tangled in others, and unraveling down her back. They'd probably toss it once she went into the Arena, or possibly wait until her body was cold before incinerating the few belongings she had. With a silent goodbye to the only home she'd ever known, she walked through the threshold into the future.

Turns out her future was a lot less interesting looking than she thought. The train was full furnished, one might say too furnished. It was packed with couches and side tables covered in vases overflowing with flowers. Kassandra stopped beside one, looking into a tulip and getting hit by a powerful whiff of perfume. They were larger than the wildflowers that grew near the white house- mutated into monstrous versions of excess beauty.

Her eyes slid across the rest of the train car. Three victors sat waiting for them, ready to guide them to the Arena like the Peacekeepers that escorted her to the platform.

Complicit.

Kassandra turned away from the adults, choosing to wander towards the other end of the car running her fingers over the tablecloth under the abundant spread laid out for them. Bread, large dishes of butter, cookies, cakes, dishes full of vegetables and fruits, and lots of dishes she was unfamiliar with.

“I made fudge and seed bread if Capitol food doesn’t strike your fancy.” Kassandra caught the homemade treats shoved on the end of the table. It was kind, but the sweetness of the gesture turned bitter in Kassandra's mouth. Perhaps she was resenting her status as a sacrifice.

Just because she had accepted her future, didn't mean she had to be nice about it.

"Whatever your questions are, the three of us will answer to the best of our ability.”

Kassandra smiled to herself. Questions. What questions could they answer for her? Her biggest wonder had been addressed hours ago in the justice building with Faux. There was nothing these three could tell her. Rely on dumb luck and maybe you'll get to go home and live in fear for the rest of your life.

For the first time since sitting on the back porch at dawn alone with her cards, Kassandra feels anger bubble up inside of her. She was supposed to work with Killain, to work on the rebellion growing in the countryside. She was going to smuggle weapons in and people out. They were going to change Panem and life for everyone. Yet here she was being sent on a different path to die and be listed among all the other dead kids. A pretty shit destiny if you ask her.

Kassandra walked down beside the table towards the victors, pulling out her deck from her skirt and flipping through the cards. She leaned against the end of the table, looking towards Katelyn Persimmon.

Imprisoned Persimmon. Orphanage funding Persimmon. Seed bread baking Persimmon.

And some how Kassandra was no better for any of it. Killain had been the one to persuade her off the streets, to make her do homework, and walk her to the Reaping. How generous of her to throw a few bucks at some parentless children before vanishing for years.

She used to think highly of Katelyn. The symbol of their little rebellion taken long before Kassandra was brought into the orphange. She looked up to her, listened to Killain speak about her. How she'd be taken to show them a lesson and how she'd want them to keep moving and working towards their rebellion no matter what.

And here she was offering her seed bread as a condolence for escorting children to their death.

Kassandra grabbed a piece of fudge and popped it into her mouth. She smiled as she chewed the sickly sweet treat, plucking a card from her deck and shoving it into the remaining fudge.

The Hierophant.

Killain had lied about Persimmon, about her strength, and about her dedication. She didn't care about rebellion. She cared about her own conscience and no amount of fudge was going to wipe her crimes clean.

"There's nothing you can say that will change us dying."

Her mind thought back to her own reading. The tower, death, and the ten of swords. A grim change full of pain and suffering. Dismantling of her being through agony.

"It's not in the cards."

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atlus | table by ryan