sharp | [Kass&Katelyn]

Katelyn couldn’t sleep.

She’d dealt with twenty-one tributes before these two, and she’d never had one that was quite as angry as Kassandra. She replayed the scene from earlier in her head and wondered if she’d been too antagonistic. Maybe some tea would settle her mind. She found Kassandra in the food car, sitting. Watching and waiting like a disapproving parent seeing their child come home well after curfew.

I know what I will die for, she began, mentioning Killian and his activities. Katelyn grimaced as she heated some water. The girl sounded like she had been a part of those things. A feeling of paranoia swept over her for a moment, prickling at her brow and the back of her neck. She knew the Capitol wasn’t sending a message to her, not this year. But that didn’t mean they weren’t sending a message to someone else.

Kassandra went on to spit venom and fire, trying to pick apart Katelyn’s motivations with all the grace of a child stamping on an anthill. Katelyn was stunned. Shocked. Her mouth opened to say something and closed on empty air. It was an old saying, that children were crueler than anyone, but she’d never seen how right it could be. It pained her on some level, that everything she’d done, everything that had been done to her could be so callously disregarded.

It did not leave a pleasant feeling in her chest.

But she had survived worse. 

Katelyn took the seat across from her and looked, really looked at the ball of anger Kassandra held in her chest. “It’s good to see you’re resigned to this. I’ve had enough of martyrs,” she began coolly, locking eyes with the tribute. “They always lose their morals in the end.” She’d had enough of tributes too afraid to fight for themselves, too. Kassandra on the other hand, had fire. She was headstrong, opinionated and ready to take on the world. It was like looking into a mirror set for eleven years ago.

“What would you have me do?” she asked quietly. “March on the Capitol, a torch in one hand and a gun in the other? The world doesn't work that way." she waved a hand dismissively and settled into her seat. 

 “You have a fighter’s spirit. That’s good. Strong. Being able to read people is a survival skill they don’t teach in the training center.” Katelyn stared down into her mug; she really ought to have let it steep more. “But don’t assume you know the first thing about me,” she continued coldly, sipping at her tea. “I fought the good fight and I lost. I lost more than you could ever know, child. Fuck me for wanting to get you home alive though, right?”