President Snow, how did you feel? {waverly/mauve}

The rooftop was quiet.

There was no breeze, and the only light was what was provided by the moon and stars. Mauve stood on the buildings ledge, the tips of her toes flirting with the edge. She looked out into the capitol the way a king might survey their kingdom. She felt powerful, standing above them all, looking down at them with judging eyes. Everything looked so small, insignificant. Is this how President Snow used to feel staring out into his kingdom?

She wondered how powerful he must have felt each year of the reaping, as though his own hand had reached into each jar pulling out 24 names, 23 of which would be brutally murdered within a few weeks time. She wondered if he also relished the sounds of families crying out, of sobs and groans of the families who were being ripped apart. It was one of her favourite parts, and she would always wait until most had left, parents and siblings exiting the justice building with bloodshot eyes and tear streaked faces.

Reaching into her pocket she pulls out a couple things she had stolen from Atticus's and Bellamy's rooms. They didn't have much, but she took their toothbrushes and slippers. She stole a stash of Bellamys pens, and she could hear the ghost of his frustrated sighs as he looked for something to use to write some stupid note in his notebook. Picking a few out she tosses them, watching until they disappear, lost to the capitol.

It was stupid, but her lips pull back into a smug grin, her hands reaching for Atticus's slippers next.