Green's a Fine Colour [Chaos]

[Meeka]

Kaya Lentach

[/size][/center]

♥

At first, the whole not remembering stuff thing was frustrating me. However, I've gradually grown used to not remembering everything or only seeing split flashes and images of certain pieces that have to be put together and make sense. It's a tedious job to do but as my life starts becoming clearer, I realise that I don't mind that much anymore.

It's a crisp autumn morning and I don't find myself welcomig the golden and orange leaves that decorate the trees. Autumn means impending winter. Winter means hunger and cold and death. I can do without any of those and it is the autumn that is especially harsh about it. One day, it's almost like a late summer day. The next, frost crunches beneath my hunting boots, creating crystalline pathways. Early morning fog has settled amongst the trunks of the trees, winding its way deeper into the thicket. I can see it all from the kitchen window.

There's an unsettling feeling in my core. I can't really place the feeling, but I don't like it much. Too many horrors have been breached in between the past few days and I don't think that Flight or I need to add anymore to the growing list. Nor does Trig. Especially not Trig. He returned later in the day, after the mess that Flight left was cleared up completely, the dark spot covered with an interwoven rag. He's frightfully scared of Flight. Whenever he sees her, he cowers and disappears, like a frightened pup would. I don't like to see him like this, but I can't think of the words to pardon Flight either. I can say many things... but I can't erase the images that now remain branded in his mind forever.

"Kaya?"

I've been so lost in thought that it takes me a moment to place the sound of the voice with the boy who was in my mind just a moment ago. The aforementioed boy is now standing, less than two feet from me, his cheeks ruddy and a smear of dirt lining his forehead. He's panting, out of breath as though he's been running for ages.

"What's wrong?" Perhaps there is too much alarm in my voice. He flushes briefly and I am about to perfect my question, when he puts his hand in his pant pocket and pulls out a glossy sheet of paper. I look down at the paper and up at him questioningly. However, when he doesn't say anything i just take the small sheet from him.

On it are photographs. Two of them. Not just any old photographs of flowers and animals and random pine trees. It's Flight. Well, the right side of her body is twisted, in angle, towards the camera. I can see that it is her because of the yellow scar that twists wickedly from her eyebrow to her cheekbone. I blink as the other figure, the one she is standing a mere breath apart from, looms into vision. I can't say that I have seen her before. She has blonde hair, that seems almost haphazardly cut. But the two girls are standing and for me it seems as though they are reaching for each other with such a tenderness that my hands shake and I struggle to look away from the picture.

But the second, the other glossy pictures catches my eye. They are still in the same clearing, as it seems. They are closer to each other - as if that was even a possibility - so close in fact that their lips seem to be touching. With a shriek of rage, a wave of hurt rolls through me and I toss the picture away from me, where it hits Trig above the eyebrow. He stoops down to pick it back up off the floor but I am already pacing.

"Where did you get this, Trig?" I hope that he'll deny that the photo is real. Something, anything, but this. Although the two are not doing anything remarkable on the picture, I can't distinguish the awful monster that rises in me. It's not a monster like Flight's. Mine is green. Grassy green. It is green inside and outside. It can't stand the fact that Flight, my girlfriend, is even talking to other girls. Especially girls who are pretty. Like the blonde girl.
"I was just doing some scavenging and came across her. I followed because I wondered what she was up to and then I say that," he throws a furtive flick towards the photos. "I had my camera, Kaya. I couldn't just not let you know."

I nod, distractedly because it is now that the door is opening.

OOC: ahhh took ages. I'm sorry![/size]

[sadniss everdeen]

A small smile laces my lips as I watch the blond girl disappear from view, around the bend and out of sight. Dwyn is one of my few friends, part of the fewer still that haven't yet shunned me or slowly drifted away. Or died. That's always a big one.

For as long as I've known the younger girl, she's always had a certain gravity about her. It pulls me in like a moth to the flame, visible in those ice cold eyes that glint with something forbidden. Even though we haven't done anything sexual after that night in the club we always find each other close, pressing nearer than absolutely necessary when we're in each other's presence. She has somebody and so do I, it's refreshing that we can just... be close, without worrying that we're trying to take the other away from their respective lover. There always has and most probably always will be flirting in our friendship; it's the way we are. Who knows, if Kaya ever lets me off this proverbial leash perhaps I can ask for an encore that I'm sure she'll be more than pleased to deliver.

Yet as my thoughts turn to the feisty redhead, a frown furrows my brow. I'm honestly unsure what to make of her. The behavior she's shown in the past while has been increasingly erratic and irritated, aided by a helping of mood swings. While I love her dearly I'm beginning to grow annoyed by her constant change of pace, being caring one second and strangely distant the next. Such mixed signals that I think my brain is about to explode... I knew being with her would never be easy, but I swear somebody could've warned me. If I didn't know better I'd say she was pregnant; I sincerely doubt she'd go with another person let alone a man, and not even have the decency to tell me.

A flash of crimson out of the corner of my eye and I turn, seeing the foot of a figure disappear around the corner. Sighing, my mind turns to Trig. After the incident with the eating he's both terrified and enraged by my very presence. He doesn't hesitate to voice what he says, and it's often hurtful to my girlfriend and deliberately trying to tick me off. More than once I've had to resist storming out to cool off, only because I refuse to see that glint of triumph in his eyes that remind me too much of his father. I'm honestly not sure what to do about him; he's different and much the same as my own brother, but our way of dealing is much more violent than theirs. I won't stand by and watch him actively try and sabotage our relationship, but I can't make him shut up with some threats he'll no doubt carry to Kaya.

I grind my teeth in irritation as I wander up to her - our - house. The lights are on and footsteps have made the porch wet, no doubt somebody just came home. Trig, by the size of them. Shaking out my hair and shouldering into the hallway, I stop at the bizarre air the room has taken on. Like it became dead quiet as soon as I walked in. Raising an eyebrow I look around, noting that the fireplace is on, brother and sister are in the kitchen, and everything seems in place. But no, that's not right. Something's wrong. Meeting Kaya's eyes, I'm confused and slightly worried at the strong sense of worry, anger, betrayal, and... something else. What the hell is that? But my eyes are drawn from movement at the other end, and they narrow when I see smugness scrawled onto the boy's face. "The hell is going on?"

Then I see the pictures on the floor and stoop to pick them up. Trig lungs towards them but I'm faster, snatching them up and holding them out of reach while behind studied. It's me and... Dwyn? We're smiling and standing close, her with that lopsided smirk that I've grown to remember. Wait a second...

"What... this happened thirty minutes ago!" Realization. I turn to Trig, confusion and annoyance playing for dominance over my features. "You were watching us? I knew I saw something! But another look at Kaya, closer this time, reveals the hidden emotion.

Jealousy. Why should she be jealous?

A sigh and I look at the second picture, raising an eyebrow at the angle it was taken. From here it almost looks like our lips are brushing, and that gleam in Dwyn's eyes could be confused for tenderness; but it's amusement. I've grown to not screw up the mystery girl's moods anymore. We were remembering something that happened not too long ago - it required leaning closer. And let's face it, it's fucking freezing outside. A little human warmth would be nice. Still, this doesn't explain Kaya's emotions. I mean, what could we be doing in a clearing, out in the cold, with nobody else... oh. Oh.

Oh.

She thinks I'm cheating on her? That's fucking stupid! I'd never do that! But... she's been easily swayed these days, and as my eyes set on Trig's radiating satisfaction, it becomes apparent that's just what happened. How the hell am I going to explain this to her, and not sound like I'm trying to save my skin?

When this is all over, I'm going to kill this little fucker.

(OOC: Well, intro. Nothing terribly amazing, but it sets things up. I think. )

[Meeka]

Kaya Lentach

[/size][/center]

♥

I've always been mature for my age. As a child this was a trait that made me different from my other classmates. But one of my more ugly personality traits would have to be my jealousy and the irrational way I handle things when the former emotion is triggered. Right now, all I can see are the two pictures. Beneath all of the anger is a hurt at her apparent betrayal. Flight is a lot of things, but I would never have thought that she would cheat. But the evidence is right here, right in her hands.

I turn angry, disappointed eyes at Flight and abruptly turn on my heel and head for the adjacent living room. The kitchen feels stuffy and the need to get away from her feels like a crushing weight on my chest. But I know the moment that I've reached the living room, that she won't just stay in the kitchen with Trig. So I wheel back around and cross my arms over my chest protectively.

I gave her my trust and she betrayed me for it. That's how it looks like to me and I can forgive her for a lot of things. I can forgive her for having killed my father - well, ate him actually - but I don't condone cheating. Technically, I should give her a chance to explain herself but somehow I don't want to hear her because I am sure that the evidence can't be explained away. Plus, I don't want to hear any arguments.

"So, who's this girl, Flight?" It's the first time that I've addressed her by her old name. It sounds strange, almost metallic sounding coming from my voice. Perhaps it was too harsh because I swear I see her flinch. Or maybe it is just the way the light hit her face. "She's pretty," I say and I can't stop the green-eyed monster from creeping into my voice. I really wished she wasn't. I decide that I hate this girl for being pretty and for being with Flight when I wasn't.

"So is this what you do when I'm not around? Get frisky with other girls?" There is a definite hurt in my voice now and I back away and pull my arms even closer to myself. I'm afraid that I will throw something at her if I don't. "I can't believe you!"

A shadow by the doorway catches my attention and I look over to see Trig standing there. In his hand he still clutches the photographs. "Leave, Trig." He pauses and looks at me. "What? B - but why?" He looks almost hesitant, a type of longing that I can't place in his green eyes. "Please. Go." He throws a long look at Flight and then disappears back through the doorway. I hear the door slam closed behind him. I sigh and turn my attention back to Flight.

"Well?"

OOC: Blaghhh. This is what happens after hours and hours of German homework.[/size]

[sadniss everdeen]

Angrily I crumple the pictures in my clenched fist, feeling the snarl vibrate through my teeth as I cast them down to the floor. How dare she accuse me of this! I have been nothing but faithful towards her, yet she thinks this of me? Am I really so little in her eyes? The monster surges up but I swallow it with the difficulty of scraping nails down my throat, shaking where I stand. If I go closer I fear she'll either hit me, or I'll hit her. "This girl," I hiss, eyes flashing dangerously in the lowlight. "Is Dwyn. She's a friend. Nothing else."

I decide not to comment on the pretty part because then she'll blow up and twist my words around me until I suffocate. My real name sounds bad and sour coming from her mouth, but I refuse to back down and show that it hurts when she says it. Instead I square my shoulders and stand my ground, glaring daggers at both siblings.

"So is this what you do when I'm not around? Get frisky with other girls?" This time something else entirely crawls up my throat and sits heavy, making it ache. I've been many things recently with Kaya; frustrated, loving, worried, guilty... even angry. But this? This is new, and I find that I can't make it go away and despite the neutral mask I attempt to slap on, it still leaks through the cracks.

Hurt.

It takes alot to hurt me. With my turbulent past, mental problems and general attitude on life, it doesn't make much difference to me what you end up doing. Sure, you can seriously piss me off if you decide to betray me and end up with a sword through your chest, but in the end it doesn't hurt. This, however? It's an entirely new experience for me, and not one I'd like to repeat. But a sinking feeling says that if I can't kill the root source, it will. "I can't believe you!"

I snap.

"Me? Can't believe me?! I can't believe YOU! A single, no, double picture somehow proves that I've been cheating? Tell me, Kaya, because I'd really like to know, when have I ever given you a single reason to suspect that I'm being unfaithful." I glance down at the pictures and grind my teeth, not trying to reign in the blatant fury that's been saturated into my voice.

"You've kept me on a short leash for no fucking reason at all and I'm going with it because I love you and want to be with you. Dwyn is a friend that I've known for a while and I've grown to trust her, nothing more. Am I not allowed to have friends anymore, Kaya?" I snap, crossing my arms over my chest. My frame is shaking but I level a cold gaze at her, not registering the smug glance Trig shoots before disappearing up the stairs. Boy is going to get a wake up call.

Nails dig into the softness of my skin as I struggle to keep it under control, taking deep breaths that whistle in through my closed jaws. Now my voice is softer, but the anger is trembling just under the surface. "Sometimes it's like you don't want me around anymore. I'll go to the ends of the earth for you, but recently I don't know what's happened. Do you really not love me, and try to find ways to kick me out?"

[Meeka]

Kaya Lentach

[/size][/center]

♥

I've been known to jump to conclusions so dizzyingly fast that most people don't know what hit them until it is too late. She's keeping a distance just like I am. My eyes flash briefly and then go cold when she mentions the name of her so called friend. My nails scrape at the insides of my arms and I hardly notice, nor do I care.

But it's the look in her eyes that suddenly stops me short. I've seen Flight looks many things before, but this is new. Is she actually... genuinly hurt? This does not sit with me right. If she really cheated on me, then some small part of her would not care anymore, right? But then this hurt would not show. If she does not care, then she would have left ages ago.

"Me? Can't believe me?! I can't believe YOU! A single, no, double picture somehow proves that I've been cheating? Tell me, Kaya, because I'd really like to know, when have I ever given you a single reason to suspect that I'm being unfaithful."

Now a new feeling settles in what must be the pit of my stomach. The anger is pushed aside to give way to a gut-wrenching guilt. I am ashamed that I would even think the worst of her, without second guessing myself. My face burns and I am briefly irritated that my face and my hair will be matching now, like I am personifying some tomato. It takes a while for me to find my voice. Now that the anger has left me, I feel kind of drained and empty and really, really tired.

"No..." Wow. One word. I am certainly on a roll. I genuinly am getting annoyed at myself and so I attempt to take a few steps towards her. I still don't feel better about myself, but at least there is not that awkward distance anymore. "Well... I guess I did not think?" Bingo. I hate being at a loss for words.

"Fligh - Tammy. When I saw the pictures, I was just so - so... hurt. I did not care about anything else, except that it was you and that girl, - Dwyn? - a - and I got upset. I'm sorry. It doesn't even make sense. I don't think of you as the... disloyal type..." I trail off because it seems as though my ranting is getting me nowhere. All I want is for Flight not to be angry anymore or something. But nothing is ever that easy.

Her question makes me shake my head violently. "No! No," I urge, more softly the second time I say it. "I don't - I would never - I still love you, Tams. I couldn't just... I wasn't even..." Again, I am forced to cut off my stream of babble.

"But... what happened then? With you and Dwyn in the woods?"

OOC: Do something amazing to make my muse return, please?[/size]

[sadniss everdeen]

Finally the atmosphere seems to cool down from the unbelievable crackling tension that was just moments ago running thick through the air. I give a muted sigh of relief as she dwells on my words for a minute, face becoming like an uncanny resemblance to a pale tomato as the truth dawns on her.

Without my consensus my body slumps against the wall and tiredly runs a hand through my hair, blinking to try and get rid of the excess anger I still feel bubbling in my core. It's not easy to go from blindingly mad to resigned in all of five seconds; I'm not sure how she manages. "You didn't think..." I sigh, bringing my head back against the wall and closing my eyes for a moment. Footsteps echo and now she's closer, but I can't bring myself to open them and look at her. Wordlessly I listen to her next sentence before pushing myself off the drywall.

"But you don't have to be hurt. She's a friend. I'm allowed to have friends, right?" My voice is pleading now, but I keep it low so Trig can't hear my desperation. "I haven't seen her in a while. Not counting the, um, problems we got into shortly after my arrival here; but that doesn't count because we were running away from people and guns." I scowl at the remembrance of those tunnels - hopping blindly and trying to remember which way wouldn't get us shot. "So I wanted to catch up, and she's helping me get back on par with my fighting capabilities. She'd just hit me really hard in the face, and was apologizing in her own mentally handicapped way." A smile twists my lips at her amused and certainly not guilty face. In fact, she simply jeered me on and patted my cheek.

Sighing, I give up the fight and go to Kaya, wrapping my arms around her and resting a chin on the crown of her head. It still confuses me how much I like the feeling of her body pressed to mine; the emotion is new and slightly scary. A shuffling upstairs and I glance, meeting a pair of stormy eyes. I shoot an electrified glare coupled with a healthy dose of triumph - he silently fumes and flees to his room. "Besides, she's only 15, Kaya. She's like the little psychotic sister I never had."

That I had sex with on multiple occasions. But she doesn't need to know that.

Yet.

(OOC: 'Kay, well, nothing life-shattering. What shall we have them do next?)

[Meeka]

Kaya Lentach

[/size][/center]

♥

For the most part, I can't even explain how I manage to go from near-irrational with anger to mellow and somewhat ashamed in mere seconds. I've always been emotional, as a child and even now - even though I hate it and attempt to discourge myself from displaying them. But what I can't do is indulge in my emotions for a long time. I'll become extremely angry in seconds and then go to calm in the next few seconds. I can see that for Flight this change is not quite so easy. Which only adds to my initial discomfort.

I decide to stand at a safe distance still, rocking awkwardly back and forth on the tip of my toes as I think of something not mind-boggling to say. For me, the issue is resolved. From the look on Flight's face I think that she's going to leave me and immediately a wave of sorrow, so strong that I'm surprised that it threatens to choke me. I realise then, maybe for the first time, that I can not possibly imagine living without her and that the thought of her leaving me, even though she's made no inclination to do so, releases a strong sense of fear in me.

So her question brings unwanted tears to my eyes as a desperation threatens to overtake me. "No... no! That's not what I meant. I don't want you not to have friends but... it's hard."
because I am afraid that someone will steal you away from me, I leave unsaid. It's not entirely my fault that I overreacted. I am pretty sure she would have been upset as well.

The picture clearly showed her and this girl locked in an intimate-looking moment. I misinterpreted it immediately and let my jealous personality get in the way of my usually so mature line of thought. I sigh, mostly in relief when she spreads open her arms. I stagger forwards, the floorboards creaking in protest and half-fall into her arms. I burrow my face in her chest, feeling that I really would not mind just staying like this. Her words make me smile a little. Of course. Just a sister. Doesn't mean a thing. Those words mean the world to me.

I pull away and reach up to welcome her back home more appropriately, since the first time kind of backfired, when a small paper falls out of her back pocket and half-twirls, half-dances on its way to meet my angry floorboards. I raise my eyebrows and reach down to pick it up and hand it back to her. The crested paper feels strange in my hands and curiously, almost subconsciously, I turn it over in my hands. I am just about to hand it back when something catches my eye.

Curious, I take a cautious step back from her. I am well aware that this may not be for my eyes to see, but - oh, screw it! I unfold the paper that thus far had been tightly folded into a neat square and blink as the paper turns out to be a letter. I glance back up at her, confused and now slightly ashamed. I hold it out once more, opting that this is private and belongs to her. But again, something stops me short. I pull it back.

OOC: I have no idea if you imagined it like this, but if you state in the next post what the letter says, Kaya is able to read it. I'm so curious![/size]

[sadniss everdeen]

Paper crinkles a moment before I'm able to stuff it deep in my pockets and it slips out, fluttering on the draft and spiralling down to touch gently against the floorboards that would be screaming if they could talk. Against the brown wood the reddened seal looks angry and out of place, a bloodstain against lives that have just begun to mend again. I've read it and firmly re-sealed it, fully intending to burn the cursed thing before anybody else could happen upon the wretched text with the looping letters, but I suppose it's not to be. Kaya bends to pick it up and examines it thoroughly, turning it over and over while her lithe fingers make little trails along the creases like she does on my skin after passion.

Curiosity plays on her features and I can see the wheels turning under that head of almost crimson hair, debating whether or not to give it back to me. Twice she tries but something must tell her not to, so she retracts it and holds it against her. When her nails pop the seal my fingers twitch with the effort not to spring at her and throw it in the fire, just to watch it burn and disappear into nothingness. But regardless if the physical body is destroyed, the words written will remain heavy and much too real.

The text is a strange, harsh language, written with a genuine ink quill that scratches and makes ugly indents through the parchment. Still, the seemingly random placed letters make sense to me and I lick my lips, wondering if I should lie or outright refuse to read what it says. But the memory of a promise rings in my mind and instead I let out a tired sigh, pulling the paper from her fingertips and smoothing out the creases. Taking her by the waist I sit down in a chair by the fire, pulling her into my lap where my cheek rests comfortably against her neck.

For a moment I just stare, tracing the guttural words that still have a certain fluidity with my eyes and feeling her warmth seep into my front. I'm loathe to destroy the moment but I can practically feel the curiosity radiating off her form in waves, so with a deep breath I begin to translate;

You're Invited!

Dear Flight DeRicasho,

We've been watching you for a while. And through many conversations, we've come to the consensus that you are one part of what we need in a machine that will stun the Capitol. People irritate us, you see. Always double-crossing, never doing as their told. We are unable to deal out punishment in the ways we see fit; painful, bloody and lethal, of course, so we are creating a special group of selected residents to do so. While you will receive payment, this invitation is not to be taken lightly. If you refuse, take in mind that we know where you live since you've settled down and become much easier to track. Your redhead might get in the crossfire, if you decide to deny us what we wish. Keep that in your head.

So, you see, what we are asking for is your cunning. Your stealth. Your cruelty. And, with some of you, maybe even your insanity. We're not asking for you to go around murdering everyone who does wrong, but when the time comes, you must do as we say.

You will receive further instructions upon accepting/denying your spot in the group. We know you will make the right decision.

Yours Truly,
The ones you fear


My mouth is dry and my grip has tightened by the time I've stopped translating, the stuttering Icelandic obviously written by somebody other than a proffessional. Still, as my ancestral tongue, it gets the message across.

We're watching you.

"I accepted." I say as an afterthought, shifting so that I can look at her face. "There's no way I can ignore, not when they've made such an obvious threat against you."

Perhaps that was their plan. Put something I love at risk so that there's possible reason for me to deny their request. People are making it so bloody hard to keep promises at this rate; what with all the lies and deceit and murder. "Listen, I know I promised to stop killing. But this is something that I just can't avoid. I have to kill, so that we can be safe."

[Meeka]

Kaya Lentach

[/size][/center]

♥

The letter unfolds slowly between my lithe fingers. My eyes trace the words fast before I realise that it all makes no sense. There are definite, harshly etched words on the parchment. I can practically see where the nib of the pen pressed into the rough texture. The words mean nothing, it's not english. I do not know of this tongue. I look up, flabbergasted, from the letter. I'm so confused, I have no idea what this can possibly mean.

"Tammy... w- what?"

The words die and fade into nothing as she pulls me with her. I follow obediently, still too confused by what is on the paper to make sense of anything. I'm about to ask what she is doing, when she sits down, pillows falling off the end of the sofa and pulls me down with her. Her knees aren't as bony as they were after she came out of prison, so I don't mind this at all, although if I weren't this confused, I surely would have protested against being manhandled in this way.

But then she reads. At first slowly, as though begrudgingly. But then the words become more fluent, stronger in diction and I have trouble understanding everything. So when she finishes, I just sit there, calmed by her steady breath against my cheeks. Then, as realisation creeps up on me, I leap up, backing away from her, shaking my head slowly as the forboding tone of the letter dawns on me. She must have anticipated some kind of outburst.

"I accepted."

"No!" My cry takes even me by surprise. Every bit of fear and anxiety I've felt over the past weeks is in that one word. I take two quick steps forwards until I am right in front of her. I grip her shoulders between my hands and shake her. Once, twice, three times. Hard. Then I let go of her and slump backwards, gripping my wrist in my other hand and pulling it against my chest. "The letter doesn't sound good to me. Those people may be dangerous, they could hurt you."

"There's no way I can ignore, not when they've made such an obvious threat against you."

"I don't care! I can defend myself!" I'm furious now - though it's more from plain terror than from actual anger. "How do you know they won't harm you? How can you be sure of anything? This is crazy! Tell me."

"Listen, I know I promised to stop killing. But this is something that I just can't avoid. I have to kill, so that we can be safe."

Tears burn in my eyes now. I don't want her to become the monster that I know she'll turn into once she starts killing again. "No," I moan, tears already spilling over and onto my cheeks. I run a hand across them and glare at her. "You're being blackmailed," I hiss through clenched teeth. "You don't have to do this. Decline, please. Please, Tammy. I don't want to lose you." I mean this in two ways. I don't want her to die. I don't want her to lose herself. I don't want to lose the person I've grown to love.

OOC: Dun dun dun...[/size]

[sadniss everdeen]

Fire swirls angrily in the little hollow chiseled from the wall, and I waste no time in balling up the ornate letter and casting it into the fire without a second thought. Almost immediately it catches and burns steadily, flames licking up the sides and erasing the bizarre, confusing language. When the seal ignites it releases a wave of putrid smoke that smells like a mix between a swamp and burnt flesh; the reflex tears that threaten to leak out are surprising in their intensity. I'm so far away that I barely notice as her hands grip my shoulders, shaking furiously. Perhaps in an attempt to make me see reason? Regardless, it's already been done.

"I don't care! I can defend myself!" This snaps me out of my temporary reverie and I fix her with a neutral stare, arching a slim raven eyebrow in protest of that statement. "Against the Capitol and their assassins? I'm not willing to risk it." The desperation in her eyes makes me ache, and I swallow the overpowering urge to go comfort her. "How do you know they won't harm you? How can you be sure of anything? This is crazy! Tell me." Another sigh, and I rake short fingernails through my hair, trailing down my scalp and tangling in the thick mane. "They probably will harm me. They made that pretty clear. But they won't kill me; they need me too much. I know this is crazy, love, but we'll get through it. We always do."

All the cells in my body scream to go to her and for once I don't resist, wearily getting up off the chair to wrap my arms around her. I press my front against her back and loosely link my arms around her waist, pressing a spiderwebbed hand on her shuddering abdomen. My large frame easily covers hers and I close my eyes, searching for the words that will make this all better. But deep down I know, know that there won't be any words to reassure her, because I don't even have words to reassure myself. It's a terrible idea going into this blind, but I have no other options.

"I know I'm being blackmailed." I mumble into her scarlet tresses. Kaya smells of summer and mountain strawberries, and the scent makes my limbs grow heavy at the prospect of leaving her for an unknown amount of time in this house, while the rest of Panem braces for the unwavering snowfall that will soon blanket our world in sheets of ice. It will lure out the hunters in their white parkas and oiled bows, and the metalworkers that are slowly but surely being incorporated into our way of life as their forges ring hot throughout the coldest snowfalls. "But I can't do anything about it. I have to do this, to keep us safe."

Her warmth is comforting in a world that is slowly spinning off its axis and I'm reminded of the glittering ring that I've hidden deep in my affairs, a silver band with dual gems that peer out like tiny eyes; red and green, yellow and black. While I'm not sure what possessed me to blow a huge chunk of my money on this beauty that I spied within the Sewers (the real thing, I've been assured by countless different jewelers), I do know that I'll save it for the right time. Certainly not for if (when...?) I ask her to marry me - I blanch at the mere thought of doing something I've been opposed to my whole life - but a reminder that I belong to her.

"You don't have to do this. Decline, please. Please, Tammy. I don't want to lose you." Despite the obvious message there is an underlaying current that is betrayed by the hidden fear in her voice, only remembered on that day where I first showed myself to her for what I've become.

I don't want you to be the monster I know you have.

In response I draw her as close as I can without crushing her, wiping the tears from her cheeks and feeling the steady thrum of her heartbeat underneath my palm. "Shh, Kaya. Don't worry, the monster will be chained up tight, just for you. I promise." Swallow. Sigh. "But maybe, maybe this is a good thing. It grows... restless."

[Meeka]

Kaya Lentach

[/size][/center]

♥

With a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach, I watch the flames leap up and devour the sheet of parchment greedily. Slowly it crumples, blackening as the sparks lap up the sides and finally turning to ash. The blackened heap looks sodden and desolate and only then am I able to tear my eyes away from it.

What I see scares me ceaselessly. There is no fire in her eyes, no fight. I would have welcomed anger, embraced it even. Instead, she looks blank. She's confined herself to the fate that the terrible, evil letter is condeming her to. Her words frighten me. "This is not fair," I finally say. "I don't want them to hurt you and yet you insist on protecting me?" I don't see the sense in this. But then again, I've never been able to see the sense in matters like this. Life threatening matters cause me to throw all caution to the wind.

"You c - can't," I start but when my voice falters, I purse my lips and shake my head in indignation. "There has to be another option!" She embraces me, successfully silenting me for another moment. I bristle, not wanting to be comforted at all, not wanting to give up. Not yet. I pull away, scowling at her. I don't want to be enveloped in that false sense of security. I know better. We can't always get through everything. "But maybe not this time..."

She must have understood the tone of my voice and the underlying fear because she assures me that she won't let the monster free. That she won't turn into the thing that she became with my father. I shake my head angrily, tears drawing ridged lines into my cheeks as I do so. "You don't know that," I whisper, almost in a breath. "You can't know that for sure." I fear that I will drown in this all. I don't want her to leave me all alone. Not after everything we've been through so far. "Please," I plead. "Please, don't go."

[/size]

[sadniss everdeen]

When she pushes away I let her go off in her anger-fueled rant, visibly upset and bewildered that I refuse to fight this. There are many things that I will fight; the countless assassins in the Sewers, and greedy men seeking to take advantage of my abilities to silently dispatch people without so much of a trace. Bullies and extortionists alike will tremble under my wrath; but some things are better left untouched. The ones that don't even exist, groomed to perfection by bloodthirsty Capitolites wanting their way to exact a brutal revenge against ones who cross them. They are patient and armed with the best equipment and no conscience in the slightest. I've only run into one before, and it nearly cost me my life. There's no way I'm even considering the idea of putting Kaya into the crosshairs of one of those shadows.

My eyes slide over to the dull window as I try hard to ignore the desperation in her words, instead watching the now howling winds batter the unfortunate trees outside. The leaves tug and rip, sailing into the chaotic air where they whip against the faces of passerby. Inside I'm churning with ideas and thoughts, but they all come to the same thing; I have to go. In order to preserve what we have... what we could have. "No," I interrupt her, focusing again on her features. "I don't know for sure. I could snap and ravage everything, but then I have a group of well-trained people like me to help me chain it back in. Sigh. The embers of the once brilliant flame smolder quietly, waiting to be resurrected. "It's what I am, Kaya. I'll do what they say, and they'll leave us alone. If it was anything else I'd fight to the death, but I'm not willing to stand up to the might of the Capitol over one thing that can easily be taken care of."

Wearily I rub my blinded eye with the heel of my palm, savouring the grounding ache that radiates from the point of contact. Things have just gotten so hectic recently; I want nothing more than to just sleep in for a day or to practice my archery. Yet, I made a choice a long time ago, and now I'll always have to glance behind my shoulder. "Trust me, I hate this more than you, if it's possible. But this is something we just can't deny. I'll make my way back to you, I swear."

From the front of the room there is a dull, metallic thunk of an object hitting the floor. Gaze flicking to the front I instinctively drop into a slight crouch, curving my back and letting a hand float up to firmly grasp the wrapped hilt of one of my swords. Feet pad silently on the floor as I make a motion to be quiet, creeping up through the rooms and straining my ears for the slightest movement. But, all is still, and when the door finally comes into view there is a small package that has fallen through the slot in the door. Perhaps a trap? Why would they do that, if they want me well? Coming to rest above it, a blade is cautiously unsheathed, uncertain if it's to be used. The runes flash a brilliant blue in the dull lighting and metal hisses quietly through the air before coming to land against the elegant ribbon holding the package together. Snaking the blade underneath and flicking my wrist, the whole thing collapses outwards and I scramble backwards to avoid anything that could fly out.

Instead, there's simply a folded note and a picture of the clearing I was in with Dwyn just a few hours ago. Upon further inspection there is a blurry figure in the middle, jet black against the green and orange surroundings. Inside the note - parchment dry and cracked with age - a single word, written in swooping Icelandic that conveys a clear message.

Koma.

Even the elegant curves of the letters to a usually harsh languages broadcasts dread and mockery, and I allow my lips to form the words in an entirely different language. "Come."

[Meeka]

Kaya Lentach

[/size][/center]

♥

Of course I am upset. It would be impossible not to be and clearly, she was prepared for this. I narrow my eyes, as something dawns on me. It was purely my own curiousity that led me to discover the letter. Only then did she read it to me. Would she have... a dull ache burns in my stomach and I feel hurt. Also, I feel abandoned and a mixture of sorrow overcomes me when I think that about the fact that this person won't be a part of my life for an unaccounted amount of time.

"Tell me something, Tammy," I say, my voice remarkably steady, even though there is an underlying shake to it. "Were you planning on telling me about any of this at all?" For once, I'm not angry. I guess I am too hurt to be angry. For me it's quite plain. She had never meant for me to find out about any of this.

None of this worked out the way it should have. Half of me is tempted to call off this relationship, seeing as it is carrying nothing but terrible despair with it. The other half screams at me for even thinking of such a possibility. I can't help but to think that I don't know Flight as well as I once did. It's been years and we've only been back together for a couple of months. She's clearly been through a lot and I don't know whether I am prepared for hearing the depths of what she's experienced.

"I don't like this." I state it as though I am speaking about the weather and not about the fact that she might as well perish while doing whatever the Capitol wants her to do. I'm not allowed to dwell on that thought very long because a resounding crash startled me and I become alert immediately.

No... They've come for her. I'm sure they have. It's the first thought that plagues my mind. But then I see Flight pick up a blade, surveying it and then disappearing through the door, cautiously listening to sounds. I hear nothing but my heartrate peaks automatically when I am reminded of Trig who much be upstairs. If they so much as touch him... I shudder as violent, grisly images that I never knew I could even imagine appear in my mind.

There's silence now as I am left alone in the room. I'm left staring at the spot that Flight just left and the thought that she will soon be gone for an unknown period of time petrifies me. If only... but no, that would be too dangerous.

Carefully, I walk across the threadbare carpet and until I've reached the darkened corridor. She's standing before a doorway, glancing down at a small object on the ground. I shiver and take the next few steps forwards.

"What is it?" I dare to ask. With one hand, I push a few strands of hair back and behind my ear, attempting to keep calm. She speaks then, a single word and I nod. I don't make a fuss, I don't cry, I'm completely emotionless as I stare at her. They want her to come, who am I stop her? She's made her decision, it's time I make mine. My throat closes up and forbids me to speak the words I plan on saying.

Instead, I whirl back around and leave her. I feel that staying near her will only make it all the more difficult. I slam the door to the living room shut with so much force that it shakes in its frame. I lean against it emotionally drawn out and close my eyes as I fight to control my conflicting emotions. I want to rage and throw the lamp shade across the room, slash at the pillows and destroy everything and anything near. I want to crumple and cry. I don't do either of that, instead I just slump against the door until I'm resting on the ground. I draw up my knees, pulling them up against my chest and focus on feeling absolutely nothing.

OOC: don't worry. She's not going to turn into some void, emotionless zombie![/size]

[sadniss everdeen]

It's with great difficulty that I stop my heart from breaking when she stalks off, eyes angry and fed up. The letter weighs heavy in my hands, and with utmost hate that I glare at the fuzzy picture, at the sneering man with his arms spread to the sky and black cloak billowing about him like a constant shadow. They've done nothing but ruin our lives since I was twelve and that institute sealed my fate, as an insane patient that managed to escape from their clutches. If this is the final price, fine. I'll fight tooth and nail to resist them any step of the way that I can, if only for some deep-seated pride that refuses to snuff out. A sigh and a sorrowful glance out towards the living room door, I grasp the chilled handle and exit out into the night.

Stuffing my hands into my pockets the frost crunches underfoot, a tempo that calms the furious beating of my heart. Blood runs quick through my veins, bringing me to a void where nothing but anger exists. I want to go and kill them all, then swallow them whole and feed what I can't eat to their loved ones. No! Bad! I lean heavily against a wall to calm myself, clutching my throbbing head in one hand and trying to massage out all the stress that's accumilated under my skin. Why does everything have to be so hard?

It's unknown how long I walk, slittling my eyes against the howling gale and letting my hair whip back in twisting strands of black silk. Wind makes each mistake cut deep into my skin, paper-thin slivers of past errors that leave no visible marks, but remain long after the razor-sharp air currents pass over my face. My toes numb in their boots and fingers start to tingle uncomfortably, but as the houses fade away to be replaced by bent trees and swaying grasses, the anticipation makes my gorge rise and bones thrum with the electrifying current of adrenaline. With a hummingbird heartbeat I step into the clearing from the trees, noting with a vague sense of foreboading that the man has seemingly not moved from his position in hours, despite the raging storm and biting cold.

Though his features are clouded in shadow, a snakelike smile creeps up his lips and settles slimy on his face. Eyes glint bright from underneath the large hood that remains intact, speaking of cruelty and bloodlust. "Svo kemur þer." So, you come. The words don't sit right on his tongue, but it's evident that he's atleast put some effort into learning the language. Strange.

"Ég gerði. Hvað vilt þú frá mér?" I have. What do you want from me? For a moment there is nothing but the whispering of the wind. The trees hold their collective breath on the waiting of his answer, like the weight of many lives carry the burden of his words. In a way, they do. Then the smile grows to where the peekings of grimy yellow teeth show from chapped lips, an altogether corrupted aura to complete his appearance. He spreads his arms out to the sky - I blanch at the stubs of his fingers where something has chopped away the first knuckles of each digit to leave putrid, scarred holes - and tilts his head, just enough so I can see the ragged stubble from many tired nights. Is this what I'm to become? I would rather die a thousand deaths than become this sadistic shell of a human being.

"Þú." You. He laughs then; the sound of ricochetting gravel scraping across his airways. "Það er kominn tími þú boðið þjónustu til annarra, þjófur. Við höfum þörf fyrir einn svo ónæmur fyrir hörmungum heimsins." It is time you offered your services to others, thief. We have need of one so resistant to the world's horrors. A snarl rumbles deep through my chest, and eyes flash violently from the setting sun. "Og hvers vegna ætti ég? Þú hefur fært ekkert nema sársauki og lygar. Ég hef ekki að svara þér!" And why should I? You've brought nothing but pain and lies. I don't have to answer to you!

His feet drag along the ground - sandals with the toes curled and disgusting, first joint cut off from the flesh - when he turns back to the forest, throwing a glance over his shoulder and speaking in that strange, cumbersome tongue. "Við komum fyrir þig fljótlega. Þú vilt ekki lítið Redhead til að fá í yfir eldi, þú?" We come for you soon. You don't want your little redhead to get in the cross-fire, do you? And with that, the earth seemingly swallows him whole, and I'm left alone with the swaying trees and the lonely beat of my heart without its other half.

---

Time moves quickly, and nothing is as it seems. I can no longer distinguish reality from false memories with the time I spent before they got to me. Really, the only thing I can remember is returning home and apologizing to you. We stared at each other for what must of been ages, before I scooped you up and took you to bed, where we stayed for several hours. You had to go out afterwards, and I took a shower. If I remember correctly, that's where it all went wrong.

They took me by surprise. I fought, and the bathroom shattered into ruins, but in the end they won and the sedative took my strength. Still soaked, I was dragged out into the freezing air. Things are blurry here, but what I recall most is Trig's triumphant eyes and a burning rage that ached - and still does - to be released. From there I tumble unwillingly into the heavy darkness, and everything goes black.

When consciousness returns, I was kicked awake by another girl later known to me as Frederica. We were bound in a grimy basement, and the sole boy, Dominic, was bleeding from a gunshot wound. He and the youngest, Soyala, were still under. Bound and ducttaped, we managed with great difficulty and much pain to escape our bonds. They were all like me to an extent; schizophrenic. Damaged goods. In this case, escape wasn't an option. It's obvious who brought us here. Our fingers were so numb that we couldn't yet undo the bindings of the others who woke before a representative from the wretched group appeared, and gave us our first mission.

The things that followed... Kaya... I can't put them down. I'm sorry, and maybe one day I'll tell you. But I have no intention of reliving them when the memories are still so fresh and raw. The screams and the blood, and the people pleading for their lives... even the monster was hesitant. What we had to do was just so brutal, so... barbaric. Torture has never been something I've willingly touched and enjoyed. And now, no matter how hard I scrub, I can't get all the blood off my hands.

This isn't to say that I hated it completly. Sadly, that's incorrect. Though my mindframe was often more fractured than a regular human being's, I have to say a part of me relished the feeling of being free. But as the week went on and the body count was racked up in increasingly brutal fashions, all I really wanted to do was go home.

Which brings me to the reason of this letter. I'm unsure whether or not I still have a home, but know that I'm coming back soon. I'm tired, angry and irritated, but I want to be with you again. I know this is very out of character for me, but my independence, sarcasm and detached front have been taxed to their limits recently. Know that I'll be returning within the week.

---

The house is silent as my boots thud quietly across the worn oaken floors, trekking in a small amount of quickly melting frost. With a heavy sigh I pull off the coat I stole earlier on, draping it across the banister and hazarding a glance upstairs to the destroyed bathroom. My ribs twinge angrily at the thought, and I quickly glance away to halt the demons of shadows past. Unlacing the large boots and hopping out of them as I go, the house creaks slightly in the cold and the wind. It's a miserable day to be out there, and I'm frozen to the bone. Padding into the living room, the trees whip against the chilled glass panes.

With a fire started and crackling vibrantly, I'm finally allowed to sit. All the horrors and exhaustion of the past week catches up to me, and I collapse into the worn couch that is frigid to the touch. My shins burn from being so close to the fire but is steadily ignored in the favor of feeling something; anything other than this cold that has gripped my core. It dances and creates pretty little sparks in front of my eyes, I find my fingers rubbing the steadily heating flesh of my legs in intricate little patterns. Why is it that the house seems so abandoned?

A quick glance at the clock shows that they should both be in school; I have trouble remembering that Kaya is in her last year. Probably due to the fact that I never finished school anyway. I was bad at it before I ran off - never listened to the teachers, got in fights, bad grades. Maybe one day I'll go back. If I was them I wouldn't let me in. The crackling heat from the fire lulls me, and I prop my head in my hands with elbows resting against thighs. My eyes droop even as I struggle to stay awake - god, I probably haven't slept in days - but eventually the soft darkness creeps over, and I willingly give in.

I'm pulled back to the present when the couch dips beside me, and a pain in my neck is made known from sleeping in that awkward position. The soft scent of mountain strawberries hits my nose, and I blink sleepily but don't bother to move from my comfortable stance. Has school really let out already? "I'm back." I mumble sluggishly, staring at the fire that now crackles quietly. "Am I still allowed to stay?"

[Meeka]

Kaya Lentach

[/size][/center]

♥

I don't know how long I just sat there, pressed up against the living room door, made of cheap cherry-wood, but it must have been ages. But that all doesn't matter because I felt so very guilty about my previous behaviour. The fact remains that I was so scared and that I simply did not feel prepared for any of this. When Flight returned, I tried to apologise, but she intervened. So I just lived with the fact that we're both sorry, that our relationship isn't the most stable of things. I felt slightly better, waking up in the next morning. Maybe things would change for the better. Miracles could happen, right?

But apparently miracles don't occur, or at least, not for me. All of that never prepared me for any of what followed. I returned in the early afternoon, the sun was starting to set already behind the narrow horizon. The weather changing for the worse. The second the heavy front door fell closed behind me, I could sense that something was not quite right. Not the way it should have been. It was desolate and eerily silent. Trepidation closed off my throat and I hesitantly walked the stairs, hoping against hope that maybe everyone just went for an early nap.

But then I spot the shards of glass lying strewn across the corridor. I'm frozen, staring in shock at the mess. It literally looks as if a war broke out in my bathroom. The mirror on the wall has been smashed, the glass like ugly, sharp puddles on the checkerboard floor. Beads of bright red that are splattered on the black and white tiles, even on the shards of mirror, give away the first telltale signs of violence. The showercurtain is ripped lengthwise, shredded to some inexplicably grisly, barely recognisable something. It's bundled against the corner of the shower, where a crimson splatter of blood is still creeping in a painstakingly slow rate towards the drain.

The showerhead is ripped completely off the wall and I shudder as the brutality of what must have occured hits me. The wall is cracked right next to the bathroom door. Two holes are rammed right through the thin, but nonetheless, stable, wall, white paint shredded in a lengthwise vertical streak that reminds me strongly of nails. The door is blown right off of its hinges and splinters
line the floor in a disproportionate, mangled mess amongst the glass from the mirror.

Cracks of ancient porcelain from the basin, mirror the shards of glass and the splinter, painting another image of terror in my mind. Freezing water runs steadily from the tap in tiny, fine trickles. There's a puddle of water underneath it, mixing with the blood, where the crimson blossoms out like some deadly, vile venom. The only sound I am able to make is gnarled, choked one of pure fear. She must be dead. I don't own the finances to be able to repair any of the damage that has been done to the bathroom. Unconsciously, I turn the tap until the water stops running. I hardly notice the jabbing pain of the glass as it cuts neatly into my skin. My blood joins that of Flight. I turn away from the scene, disgusted by the mundane reality of it.

The days drag onwards. Trig stays out of my way. He doesn't even comment on the state of the bathroom and I am endlessly grateful for it. I'm through protecting him from the dangers that this world encompasses because I know that it won't be possible. So we keep a comfortable distance.

It's at the dawn of day three of my desolate loneliness when a letter arrives. I don't really receive letters, so I am somewhat suspicious when I first spot it, lying innocently on the weatherbeaten rug on the porch. I recognise the slanted, somewhat messy scrawl immediately as Flight's and my eyes tear hungrily over its contents. I read quickly, so fast that the words don't even begin to make sense in my mind. I force myself to sit down and read it once more, quietly. I mouth the words, my throat closing up as the hopelessness of her situation dawns on me. They're making her torture people. I can't even try to imagine the horror of that, the plain trauma the act would advocate. Finally, I fold the neat parchment twice in my hands.

The days are getting colder, the nights are more drawn out, the days are growing ever shorter. The leaves that once were of such a golden hue are now a mushy, dark brown, trodden into a depressing grey foundation on which we trod. Winter is right at the door, laughing its merciless laugh as it feeds on the first victims of starvation and hypothermia.

But then she's there. Just like she had promised in the letter. For some reason, a tiny part of me had not trusted it for it's validity. But now she's here and all other thoughts dissipate. I drop my beige, leather satchel. Trig's not here yet, he told me before that he wanted to spend some time with friends after school. She looks worn and exhausted.

"I'm back."

I nod, weakly. She really is. Then, without really thinking much about my actions, I give an excited squeal - a sound I don't think I have ever voiced before - and saunter straight over to her, minimising the distance between us with an elequence I never knew I possessed. I launch myself into her arms, not caring that the couch isn't exactly built to hold two people. It creaks in protest, but I ignore it, green eyes taking in the worn, scarred face that I've missed so much with an almost vaguely rude amount of hunger.

"You're back. You really are," I breathe and a single trembling hand brushes over her features. Then I lean in and savour in her kiss, pushing her softly backwards on the red couch with my pale fingers. "I've missed you so much. Please stay," I mumble, my eyes closed, as I pull away again. I linger close to her, hardly daring to even breathe because I am so afraid that this is all a dream and that she will be gone once more. They'll come for her again. That, or she will have to go to them willingly. I know they will, I refuse to delude myself once more. That doesn't mean that I don't want for her to stay here with me. "I need you, Tammy."

OOC: I told you...[/size]