stopping by woods on a snowy evening❄️ the imposters day 1

As we caught our breath, the flurries dappled out hair and freckled our cheeks. Neysa had embraced this, laying flat against the lightly blanketed large rock I had eased her onto. I briefly shook my head of the crowning frost, lifting the sherpa lined hood over my head. Fucking snow, it was like how some would describe sand from what I heard. Always getting into everything, and when it melts it just soils shit. Neysa seemed to enjoy it, but this shit will get old soon, I’m sure. The tips of my fingers already felt it. An exasperated cloud slipped above Neysa’s lips, reminding me of the cigarette clouds of a blond I tried to forget. “I know, right” she sighed theatrically, “I thought I was so lovable.”

Let’s be honest, from the brief time we knew each other we certainly weren’t other people’s cup of tea. I mean, not everyone would approve of a career telling the capitol to go fuck themselves on national television, Cricket certainly didn’t seem too pleased by that as I walked back from the stage. Judging by Shy’s bemused reaction, I don’t think he minded as much. Julian wasn’t around, however, but it’s not like I expected him to be. Probably too busy playing kiss ass to capitolites who view him as nothing more than a boy toy to entertain them. Both Shy and I were merely another round of kids who were going to die. Maybe Bryze had simply given up on trying to help. I wouldn’t blame him considering Two has disappointed everyone for some years. I heard briefly that some young one from the 80th impressed many in Two, but I never was able to watch those games. That was the year where I was with no windows and only bricks around me. The cement floor had been so cold, but everything felt that way since that was the first year without dad. The first year when I was with just him.

A flurry of wadded snow exploded in gentle flakes against my right cheek that peaked through the faux rabbit's fur-lined silver hood. With a cheshire chuckle, I batted the snow away, mentally keeping in mind to get her back later on for that. “Don’t worry, my foot just hurts a bit, it’s no big deal.” Although she smiled, my eyes briefly flashed to her unnaturally lax foot that rolled to the side further out than her other did. My eyebrows knitted with doubt as I straightened up on the balls of my feet, my left hand clutching the snowflake dotted soothing blue sherpa socks. “I don’t know who you used to fool back in Eleven, Eleven, but that is clearly broken.” Rising back up, my knees grateful for the relief of pressure, her casualty against the evident pain continued. “What about you, Two? Did you get beat up at all, or were they too afraid of you?” Tossing the socks onto her lap, I teased. “Just a few bumps, I’ve met people a hell a lot scarier than some snotty bitches who’ll be dead in a few days.”

Pausing briefly, a hushed beeping parachute descended amongst the grey, drifting down our way. “Put one on your foot that hurts, we can probably find something to wedge in the sides to stabilize it in a bit.” With a jump, my hands were easily able to grasp the beeping capsule as I continued; “trade me a mitten though, I’m trying not to lose my fingers now.” The beeping ceasing as I opened it, chucking the parachuted lid elsewhere. “Looks like we didn’t piss everyone off, check it out.” Toeing over her way, I handed her a warm mason jar filled with amber liquid. Taking my own, I muttered as I inspected the liquid, the bottom capsule falling to my feet. “What is this, something from back home? I don’t think we have this in Two.” Holding it in my right, my left hand unscrewed the lid, careful to not spill any of the precious liquid which blew fumes of spices once exposed. Looking to the side, caught my eye as it twinkled lightly. “Hey, do you see that?” After swallowing a generous sip of the liquid, my eyes closed for a second as a smile spread across my lips. Although it was a taste I wasn’t acquainted with, it reminded me of my childhood from before. When dad would read me questions from his crossword as he made oatmeal from the few spices we had.

After a moment of reminiscing, I placed the liquid in my bag, setting it on the discarded sled to the side that I had dragged on our way over here. Although it was clunky and somewhat hard to run while towing behind, I just hope the snow by now had covered our tracks. Neysa had sipped at her cider as I walked over, crossing a few trees as I did. Dusting the icy fluff with my boot off my prize, I finally found what I had been searching for. I couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh, smiling gleefully as I grabbed the two whips, making my way over to Neysa. Holding the two wrapped bundles lined in hushed blue with a large gem capped at the handle ends, my head bobbed and hips swayed, doing a cheerful, lazed dance. “Finally, something I can get behind.” Unraveling one, I tossed the other at her feet, inquiring as I admired the intriguing whip. “You guys use this in Eleven? Or is that more of a Ten thing? Sorry, can’t tell much of the difference between the two. Except you bunch seem a lot more fun than the others.” Tilting my head up, my toffee eyes gleamed as I mused. “Although, your chariot outfits were straight up ass.”

[Domitia receives warm apple cider, finds an ice whip]

For a moment, as the sky fell onto us, the audience could have forgotten what they were watching. It wasn’t a mere sporting event of kidnapped kids sanctioned to death, but instead, a peek through a snow globe. A snow globe that if you shake it and tilt your head just right, you’d see two girls. Ones that would have never met, ones that defied what their districts told them to be. And in this moment, that’s just what we were. We weren’t girls who would kill each other over which soil we were birthed on, knowing possibly neither could be alive by the following week. We were just two girls who swapped mittens and socks, finding out that maybe Two and Eleven weren’t such an odd pairing.

I was alright with having my head in the clouds for now; I think Neysa and I both were. Just a small sip of that heated spiced nectar melted the frozen memories temporarily. The memories of you fighting for me while pinned under another in snow; no matter how hard your hands shoved you, couldn’t fight him off of you. You were too weak, your back was injured. You always tried to make me forget, you did for the first few months afterward when you’d still go on our runs. Yet your breath sputtered clouds like our heater did against the perpetually broken window in winter’s time. Maybe the snow was your morphling in that moment, since I think you got so high that at some point you had forgotten I already knew. You forgot the day it happened. The wash bin after your friends and our neighbors brought you home. But it’s okay, because I try to forget the moments afterward too.

But I don’t think I ever left the snow either, dad.

It sprinkled my memories when I closed my eyes. Since I would see you pouring out each winter, each time I see that damned stupid snow. It was a record that no matter how much I screamed into pillows and kicked for the machine to stop, your vinyl would always skip over once more. I could skip over all my bruises the countless times he hit me. Since when you have a song on repeat, it all sounds the same. But you can never forget the cold, no matter how numb you get. Because the clouds that chase off our lips are just like the radiator then. You become painfully aware that no amount of blankets you steal from markets after school will fend it off; knitted yarn can only do so much. This cider right now can only do so much.

I’m okay with that, though. And judging from Neysa’s jubilant laughter, so was she. “They really did say they just wanted us to look dangerous. I don’t know, but I feel like we made people lose their heads laughing.” Shaking my head as I looked up from the whip, I mused while my ally folded over to retrieve her prize. “If anything, we couldn’t stop laughing at Nine’s. If they thought they were cold on those chariots, they were in for a wake up call. Or maybe their stylists were fucking brilliant to prepare us for this shit hole.”

The last words rolled off my tongue with a clicked scoff at my surroundings, the iridescent braided leather slipping from my grasp. Tiny bumps of crystal engrained tickled my palm as it fell. It could get worse, but as she dusted off the whip, something in the center of the corded weapon caught Neysa’s eye. Her eyes glinted practically at the gemstones, slipping it over her head. It was easily the most expensive thing I’ve ever seen, and all I could think of was how much of a fucking waste it was. I guess the gamemakers had to make murder somewhat glamorous to keep the Capitol’s goldfish eyes on the screen.

If dad and I had that back then, we could have eaten a hell of a lot more than oatmeal. I’d like to hope in that daydream he wouldn’t have sold it for drugs then. “Want to show me how to use this, by the way? You said these were your thing, right?” Neysa inquired, and with a grin I flexed my forearm. The trailing leather slithered behind before I commanded it to snap above her head. With a crack against a glass branch, clumps of plush snow rained onto Neysa’s lap. My raspy voice answered, “sure thing, as long as you can keep up with me.”

As my cracking whip reverberated against the trees, it was as if a repressed summoning. Grey fur flashed out of the corner of my eye, causing my head to and body to whip around. “Looks like we got company.” As if on cue, a medium metal container floated down, it’s beeping as if a siren’s call to what lurked beyond the frozen trees. Goddamn it Cricket, couldn’t you have been helpful a little sooner? Like telling Shy to shower a bit quicker?