Judging Books by Covers [D'Arcy x Kristof]

[D'Arcy Mason d6b [Tyler]]

It was the most beautiful place D'Arcy had ever seen. Rows upon rows of books, going up stories through the elegant room. The staircases spiraling their way up to extra levels of imposing shelves all filled with more books than she could've ever imagined before. Just stepping through the threshold into this space felt like D'Arcy had stepped into a dream world where the Games did not exist. Only the sight of the other tributes milling about between shelves or pouring over a book under the lights of one of the tables could keep her rooted to the reality that awaited her back outside of the entryway.

To D'Arcy this was the best thing to have happened since the Reaping occurred. She had always loved to read, even without the most access to readable materials. She had worked her way through the collection of books that had been available to her at school, from the non-fiction to the fiction, historical to fantasy. She loved to read about magic, and princesses in towers, and valiant heroes. She knew many of the tales of heroism at the hands of the Capitol against the Rebels of the Districts, the destruction of the treacherous District 13, the establishment of the Hunger Games. The idea that it had been a necessity for the heroes to keep the villains at bay had been something D'Arcy has understood, accepted to be fact. Now that she was here, though, surely that couldn't have been right. D'Arcy was no villain, after all. Perhaps the line between fiction and non-fiction was less defined than she had believed.

For the next hour D'Arcy busied herself between the aisles of literature, collecting in her arms any books that seemed promising. Her mother had once told her never to judge a book by its cover, but by D'Arcy's experience a book with an exciting cover had never seemed to disappoint. Already she had picked out a small book covered in a soft green velvet, a large square book with a cover of leather and gold, a mysterious yet well-worn book with a silver butterfly the only item to grace the black of the front cover.

It was on the second floor that she spotted her next find - up on the top shelf, a short little book bound in baby blue, with the signia of a familiar flower lining the spine. A forget-me-not. D'Arcy felt a pang of longing at the sight of it. For the meadow, for mom and dad, for Cecily, for Evvie. For one more night at home, one more home cooked meal, one more chance to build the best bouquet her parents had ever seen. They were things that she had been trying hard to push from her mind until the nighttime, when she didn't have to look tough for anyone else. Only with the safety of the covers of her bed around her would she let the tears fall now. There were no tears this time, though, only a certainty that she needed to have this book in her hands.

The question now was how she might manage to reach it. Even on the tips of her toes, arms stretched out above her as if reaching for the sky, her fingers could only graze the bottom of the spine. How cruel, to have this book of all books placed so far out of reach! She looked around for one of those moving ladders she had seen around, hoping to climb it and claim her prize that way. She could see it down at the far end; in use by one of the older tributes, one of the intimidating ones that made her feel so young and out of place. There was no way she would go over and ask to use the ladder, not a chance. She would just have to wait, she supposed, until the ladder was no longer in use and she could snatch it up herself.

So focused on the Tribute on the ladder, D'Arcy didn't even notice the arm that reached out and wrapped the baby blue treasure in its hand until it was already done. Her heart dropped in her chest. "No, not that book, please! Any book but that one!" she pleaded, turning to face the hand's owner. She hoped they'd understand how important it was to her, how much it would mean to her.

The line between fiction and nonfiction seemed to blur. If they did, she hoped heroes could exist outside of fantasies. She hoped this boy would be one of them.

[WC: 761]

[d9 kristof parks {ems}]

Kristof Parks

Of all the places in the training center, Kristof enjoyed reading in the library. It was quiet, it gave him something to do, it helped him remain calm even when the rest of the world feels so incredibly chaotic. It's the only place, besides the bedroom, that isn't overstimulating. All that matters here is finding the perfect book to read, to pass time instead of worrying about the future. The books are amazing, some of them are wonderful, some aren't so good, but that's the joy of it. So many wonderful things, so many ways to escape, to find a world other than this one to travel to. It's only temporarily, but it offers the best in the moment it's needed.

A smile spreads across his face as he looks through the various books spread through the library. It's a nice break, a vacation, and he grabs many books and takes them back to a table to read them, to scan the pages and absorb the words etched onto the paper. It's amazing. It's a playground all of its own, and now he has the chance to learn so much more. All of this is worth it.

Each second turns into hours and hours fly by, and Kristof takes his time enjoying this new freedom. It's a life he's never had before, and even though children's books fill a void he's always had, he learns the importance of fighting and never surrendering. Sometimes the bad guys come out on top, and maybe in this world the bad guys are the ones planning the games, the events, the spectacle for all of Panem to see.

I'm just a character soon to be forgotten.

His heart is heavy, and he returns the books and wants to walk away, but something catches his attention. Part of him wants to walk away, to pretend that nothing else matters, but his heart races. Everyone deserves a helping hand, his mind feels that maybe it's okay, yet helping doesn't do anything anymore. No matter their ages, they're all a character in this bloodbath, and maybe that's where they all fall short.

He sighs, and he kneels down beside her.

"Hey, do you need any help? I can help you if you'd like."

It doesn't matter that she's young, she's still the enemy, and it tears at his soul, but maybe this way he can stay human despite the world they've been tossed in.

"If you need a lift, I'll be more than happy to assist."