bite your tongue. | fiona / evander blitz
Jan 4, 2020 22:46:43 GMT -5
Post by mat on Jan 4, 2020 22:46:43 GMT -5
evander
They've got you once again.
This is the first time you have been outside of the Capitol's shining lights since you and Neith had attempted your escape. It's darker here, in District Two, where children are either bred to bleed or raised to hold a gun and baton in their hands. Today, they were going to celebrate the latter. Peacekeepers, dressed in their most eye-blinding white uniforms, traverse through all of the rooms, accompanied by other high profile guests: victors, their dates, even a few of his old friends from the Capitol. You wish to tell each of them your story, beg one of the victors or mayors to somehow smuggle you away at night's end.
But they have silenced you instead, and if you dare make an at-all questionable move, you fear that they'll do what they did to Pura and Roman without any hesitation. Pluck each and every one of their feathers out one by one, before ripping out their eyes.
You blink twice as the tray of champagne glasses in your hand shakes and nearly falls flat upon the ground. Carelessly, one of the women took a glass and almost knocked over the other half-dozen left.
{"Sorry, sweetie,"} she strokes at your beard, twisting part of it around into a curl. She's almost begging you to slip your hands and crash the champagne glasses on her dress and shoes. After all, the thought of aggressive revenge has consumed you for years. For Neith, for your wise owl friends, and most importantly, for your voice.
But you hold yourtonguetemptations and scratch your facial hair back into its proper place. Instead, you reorganize the glasses across the tray.
