taking the leap.— [six/mauve]

How many days could someone live without water or food? Mauve had asked at the survival stand, aware that is had already been several days since the reaping. They had said that it could vary, depending on the environment, and the subjects condition. In the arena they said a maximum of a week, but such as on your deathbed where little energy is required, you could last almost three weeks.

The news had been somewhat of a comfort, after all her mother dearest only had a small room, sheltered from the weather. According to her calculations her mother should be alive by the time she made it home. She might look the part of the dead, starvation and dehydration at critical levels, but she would be alive- and isn't that what matters? Mauve would be sure that she would be relieved to see her, alive and well. She loved her after all, didn't she? Sure she was mad when she had killed Beth, but Mauve was sure that she had crossed the road to forgiveness, or at the very least had covered some good ground.

"Are you alright if I sit here?"

Mauve looks up to see the boy with hair that reminded her of burning embers. His face attempted to be brave, but the facade is shattered by the shake in his voice. She couldn't quite remember his name, but when she looked at him she saw a mouse, small, unthreatening, something that would be easily crushed with the right amount of pressure. She was almost sure that it would be easy to make him scream, and she wondered what it might sound like, if it would be a satisfying sound or something more exhilarating. She hoped it would be the latter.

She smiles widely at him, an innocent act as she gestured to the chair waiting for him to slip in, placing his food tray carefully on the table.

She is silently for a moment as she studied him, taking notes of the small movements that gave away his discomfort. She picks up a strawberry from her plate, dipping it into some chocolate before taking a large bite. "Which district are you from, Red?"

"I'm from district eleven..."

Mauve should have known. He was scrappy, under developed in the way those from the lower districts were. He looked like those kids on the streets of three, begging for a meal, their parents wasting their income on booze and drugs. Sometimes Mauve found herself down on those streets, hands wrapped around a delicious mug of beef broth with an aroma that was mouth watering. She would sip on it, her coat pulled around her tightly, as the smell wafted into the air, filling the desperate noses of the kids that sniffed at the sky like blood hounds searching for a scent.

Sometimes she really was a bitch.

Sometimes.

"... And my name's Six O'Malley, so you can just call me Six."

Mauve brushed off his name with a wave of her hand, his name wasn't that important to her, and the fact that the nickname 'Red' was a source of annoyance for him, was like him waving a big juicy treat before her, and she lunged out, sinking her teeth in deep, refusing to let go.

"Why are you sitting all alone?"

Mauve's smile becomes teasing as she looks up at him through lowered eyelashes, "maybe most are to intimidated by my stunning beauty." A moment later she breaks into a chuckle, a maniacal one that causes her shoulders to shake. The moment is only short, the laughter dying as she flicks her hair over her shoulder and she picks up another strawberry from her plate, "do you want to know the truth, Red?" She takes a bite, her tongue running over her lips to catch the last remnants of the sweet berry.

"I think they are scared of me." She bites her lips, looking at him with an intense gaze. "I think someone is spreading rumours. Whispers that are nothing by fiction," the lie slips between her lips easily. Mauve was an expert liar, she had to be when, always putting on the perfect fake smile when mother looked at her, expectantly waiting for her to praise Beth. And Mauve would, lips pulled back, inflating an ego that was already so big that Mauve hadn't had to hit her hard in the end for it to explode.

Wasn't it funny how quickly it could deflate after years of growing?

"Have you heard what they say?"

For a moment she isn't sure that he will respond, refusing to look her in the eye as she took another bite. She was sure that if she watched him closely enough she could see him tremble, his hands shaking as he wiped his lips with a napkin. He looked so small, shaking like a leaf caught in a rough breeze. On the verge of tears he stumbles over words spoken so softly that she had to lean in, straining her ears to catch his words.

"Um... I- I don't think there's rumours. Some-some times I sit alone too. Besides, rumours are just rumours. Let's- can we move on?"

She pulls back slightly, tilting her head to the side as she studied him quizzically. Move on? She thought not, she was enjoying his discomfort a little too much. Casually she reaches over to his plate, her fork scoping up the last of his strawberry shortcake. Popping it into her mouth, she savours the taste, her eyes never leaving his face, even as he refused to meet her gaze. Swallowing she tosses her fort onto her plate, leaning over the table so that he hands crossed onto his half, an attempt to invade his personal space.

"So you have heard something!" She pauses, trying to catch his eye, "what have you heard?

Do you believe them?"