lonely hearts ❤ python

[cass]

opal shore.

It hadn’t been long since she had left the Capitol. The roar of the crowd and the screaming of a thousand voices had become quickly something she fancied. At first she had hated the attention, finding the cheering, loud crowds annoying. They screamed her name and roared into one loud throbbing mass that any other words were basically indistinguishable. After a few hours of the continuous noise she had found it almost comforting, the isolated peace of the train she now sat in was far more unnerving then the cheering of a delighted crowd. Regardless she was content and happier than ever. She had already visited a number of districts, starting at twelve where she had seen Erik’s family, her heart aching in her chest. She had spoken briefly with his mother, spending more time talking with Erik’s sister. That had left her feeling depressed, and the entire notion of going through the whole Victory tour having to speak with the loved ones of the people she had known left her with a familiar ache in her heart. She had also seen the remnants of Sierra’s family; there was just a mother left, both Meela and Sierra having been claimed by the games. All she had managed was a quick hug and a few words to the frail looking women. Anymore and Opal would have been crying at the shocking sight. Then the other districts had come, each sliding from underneath here as they went. Opal was seeing a different place every few days. It was remarkable, she had met absolutely amazing people in this short space of time, and she had seen plants and animals and insects just as wild and crazy.

Now she was facing the hardest district to date. District Four. Home of Locust Lovelace. Her beloved, strong, courageous Locust. The train had pulled up almost half an hour ago, and Opal had stayed in her carriage, ignoring the knocks on her door from Caramel, even when the escort started yelling – her high pitched, shrill voice so loud the words were incomprehensible – did she not even budge. Opal yelled back, telling her she was getting dressed, though it was simply an excuse. She just didn’t want to face the family of Locust Lovelace; she didn’t want to see the family that had mistreated her so badly. She didn’t want to look into the – what she assumed – cold eyes of Priscilla and her adoptive parents. Yet she knew she had to, she had promised Locust she’d pay them a visit, just as Locust had promised her that if she had of died Locust had of won she would have gone to district one and brought with her fury and anger and revenge. It wasn’t until Caramel threatened her with getting Peridot or Topaz to force her out that she began to move. Opal should be excited not nervous or sick to the stomach. She was about to get a glimpse of Locust’s world, of her family and her life. Sighing heavily she strapped her fake leg on, before tugging her dress over her head. It was a nice dress and like all the ones she had been wearing it was long. She didn’t hate the fact that she still had that plastic lump for a leg; she was just self-conscious about it. Besides she wasn’t in the mood at the moment to show it off to the world, right now it was going to remain hidden until her confidence in herself was a bit stronger.

Kaiser had been incredibly understanding about it; designing all her clothes for the tour to cover it up. Opal had been dying to wear something as simple as jeans and a plaid shirt, but her escort and her stylist had been very objective at the casual laid-back appearance. Regardless she had argued and finally they had agreed to let her wear a pair of dark black jeans and fancy shirt when she was tired of her dresses. That had not taken long, but today she felt as wearing one of the dresses designed specifically for her. Glancing briefly in the mirror she moved to the train carriage door before tugging it open. Caramel stood red faced right in front of her, hand raised to once more slap those manicured fingers against the door. Smiling as sweetly as she could she looked at her escort. ”All ready to go, Caramel.” Eyeing the new victor Caramel turned her flustered expression into something that was probably meant to resemble a calm lady; instead she looked like a red faced tomato, trying her best to not yell. Slipping past her before she could say something silly Opal walked the length of the carriage and to the door of the train. Eyeing the small stairs coldly she stepped on the first. Opal had learned to walk with her fake leg quickly; her co-ordination and grace were exemplary, having most of skills from her many years of gymnastics and dance. But things like steps were a hazard and she had already suffered a number of embarrassing slips, most ending with her falling face first into the ground.

Seeing her expression one of the Capitol attendants stepped forwards to give her a hand, but she waved him away. With a deep breathe she headed sown, her steps unsteady, but well placed. After getting off of the train she found herself only a few meters away from the justice building and the stage that had been set up many many years ago. Caramel pushed forwards, wanting to lead the way, and Opal found herself being tugged along and into the Justice Building. Her curious eyes only managing to glimpse a tiny bit of the world around her before she entered the building. Eager to see more of the district she stepped out the large doors and onto the stage before her. Whilst Caramel introduced her to the district she allowed her eyes to wonder from left to right, taking in the startling, yet captivating sight of the district. Not far away was the largest expanse of water she had ever seen. Her brown eyes widened, the smell of the air was so fresh and delightful that she smiled broadly, the ocean in front of her was beautiful beyond belief. Looking away as her name was spoken she stepped forwards, Caramel’s voice like the shrill call of a bird in the silence. Walking to the centre of the stage she halted in front of the crowd, her eyes instantly travelling to the family of Locust Lovelace. They narrowed in anger, she wanted them to know that their adopted daughter was the best warrior she had known. She wanted them to feel bad, perhaps even foolish for how they had treated her.

”In the arena I fought beside Locust Lovelace. Locust was a strong, courageous girl who came from district Four, and she was my best friend. She was brave and powerful and she won my heart, as little as it lasted I cared an amazing amount for her.” Looking over the crowd she centred the rest of her attention on the family in front of her. “She told me once, that her family had always been unfair to her. In not as many words I could hear her pain, and even anger at the people she had to call a family. And I want you to know that she was the bravest, toughest, and fiercest girl I ever knew. She was powerful and passionate and you all should be proud to know that she came from this district. Because I am proud of her.”

I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything
You held me down, but I got up
Already brushing off the dust
You hear my voice, you hear that sound
Like thunder gonna shake the ground

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[Python]

There was nervous pressure building inside of her chest, squeezing shallow breaths out of crimson-painted lips. As a warrior, she was not allowed to feel anxiety of any kind, so she would substitute the word ‘nervous’ with excitement to reassure herself that the knots in her stomach would unravel themselves in due time. Despite the discomfort, however, she was pleased to decorate herself in splashes of red color for an occasion that was actually worth pampering for: the arrival of the newest victor. Normally, it was a casual but cherished day when Priscilla, Locust, and their comrades would dress formally and shuffle into the district square to feast eyes upon the honored victor, whoever they may be (in some cases they would glare if that person happened to cause the death of a beloved district four tribute). It was a rare moment of peace when they could all get along and share a few chuckles about the recent Games, poking fun at victors who were obviously not fit to hold their current positions as Capitol celebrities.

This year was different.

Visiting the square was not a privilege, it was mandatory. There was designated circle assigned to the Lovelace family, where the three bodies would stand between the stage and the murmuring populace as Opal Shore graced the stage with her presence. Beside them would be the Grimsdottir family, thus completing the gathering of two deceased tributes’ families once again as they faced the reality of another loss, except this time it was not the Libertines or the Ripleys or another infamous family mourning for their extinct loved ones - it was Priscilla and her own family, with one member torn from their hearts as if their lives were a portrait with a missing piece ripped by unworthy hands. This year, there would be no laughs or smiling friends, and there would be no Locust. She was left with two parents and the remnants of a sister, whose room remained untouched by every member of the family as if it were forbidden grounds. When she strolled out of her bedroom clad in a lovely dress suited to her curves, she expected to see an open door to Locust’s room with the dark-haired mischief-maker inside pouting about the troubles of “dressing up.”

She instead saw a closed door, and frowned. There was no pretending that she could live a normal life with this emptiness in her home and this ache in her heart. Locust was gone, vanished, stolen, dead forever, and she wondered just how hard reality would hit her once the corpse was shipped back to the district in preparation for the funeral. It was the last time she would ever see Locust in person, and the thought made her nauseous. She blinked the unwelcome moisture out of her eyes and waited for her parents to escort her to the district square. They, too, were dressed appropriately to meet the best friend and ally of their fallen daughter. Adopted or not, Locust was family, and they could not escape their responsibility, especially in the presence of a girl that deserved every ounce of their undivided attention.

The transformation was magnificent; from bloodied, battered and dirtied in the arena to shining, glowing and breathtaking onstage, Opal was a beautiful sight to behold. Priscilla held her breath as the victor positioned herself in front of the microphone with a little difficultly, courtesy of the fake leg that was currently concealed behind an elegant dress. It was a battle scar, a large price to pay for victory, but it would never make her any less of a human being. As the hum of voices softened to light whispers she felt her parents shift with discomfort beside her, evidently unprepared for the spotlight. Opal did what every other victor did before speaking to the crowd; she looked at the ocean, seemingly dazzled by its vast brilliance. They always were.

The beginning of the speech was everything she wanted to hear. Opal fought alongside her sister, and she knew more than anyone how Locust had behaved in the arena. Strong, courageous, powerful, a warrior, somebody worthy of a crown and of Opal’s heart. It had been painful to witness Opal’s unrequited love (everyone in Panem could see the admiration in her eyes whenever they were together) but Priscilla knew that Locust was not completely indifferent. Whether she categorized Opal as a friend or a fan, she cared about her. Perhaps if she were alive and not so self-absorbed she would find a way to be happy for Opal’s victory. Priscilla was tempted to smile at these thoughts swarming around her tickled brain, but suddenly the attention was drawn straight to the family as a pair of fierce caramel eyes narrowed in their direction. Her mother visibly stiffened at her side at the word “unfair,” and when she glanced to her left she noticed her father’s pale cheeks, adam’s apple rolling as he swallowed an imaginary lump in his throat. She understood why they were uncomfortable; they were being called out in front of the entire district on something that was absolutely true. Anybody who knew the Lovelaces could clearly determine that Priscilla was the favorite. Locust, meanwhile, was used like a servant, forced to perform all of the family’s chores including her own. Priscilla had never thought twice about it because she hated doing the work herself. Now it was all she wanted to do, other than career training.

She kept a level head until the speech was over. The crowd dispersed as soon as permission was granted, and her parents eagerly skittered away to save their hides. Priscilla, however, lingered by the stage, impervious to the shame her parents felt. They could hide all they wanted, but Priscilla had already accepted her flaws as an older sibling. She knew she had belittled her, bullied her, and drove her into the poisonous goal of proving herself to the entire nation after her name was announced. She hadn’t realized how much all of that had meant to her until she was gone, and now it was too late to do anything but express her gratitude to the girl who deserved it most. She prowled and waited and weaved through bodies until Opal was within arm’s reach, and seized the opportunity to introduce herself despite how badly Opal might think of her. She extended her hand and smiled. ”Hello, Miss Shore! I'm Priscilla Lovelace. I thought we should meet face to face, given your relationship with my sister.”

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[cass]

I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything
You held me down, but I got up
Already brushing off the dust
You hear my voice, you hear that sound
Like thunder gonna shake the ground

The words she had spoken stung her own ears. They were odd and they felt foreign to her lips. Never before would she have ever expected herself to be saying something like that in front of a large crowd, with the family of a girl she had cared about shrinking under her words. As she finished her speech and Caramel dismissed them all she kept herself focused on the Lovelace family and it surprised her not even in the slightest when they ran away, fearing embarrassment. Hell seeing the parents scurry into the streets filled with rambling people, blending in like a mouse in a haystack was just funny as. Laughing lightly with evident delight, she nodded satisfaction at the scene before her filling her to the brim. Caramel walked up to her, face stern and rather annoyed. Before the Capitolite could say a word Opal was moving away, weaving through the crowd on the stage and heading to the other side. She was not in the mood to listen to Caramel ramble on about manners and etiquette those were things she would concern herself with in the other districts. Not in the home of Locust, not when Locust’s family had stood not ten meters away from her, not when she had heard and been told everything that they had done to her. Besides her attitude was going to be worse in the next district they visited and Carmel should get the hang of staying silent and saying nothing at all. Next, after all, was the home of Cleo Sullivan and Drace Vandel. Cleo would be held with a few polite charming words, after all the girl had been tough, but Drace? No. There would not be a nice thing to say about him.

Chewing her lip she looked around her. Maybe it would be better if she just stayed silent. Maybe his family didn’t want to hear her speak vehement things and snarl about how horrible he was. They would get enough of her attitude when they saw her, best not disgrace the dead. Sighing heavily she leaned against a poll near her. Her eyes trailed to the land around her. The district was an astounding range of colour, foremost blue. The shops were delightfully clean; the windows lined with a range of new and intriguing thing’s Most of the buildings were new and did not seem to suffer the look of poverty that other districts clung to. That was to be expected, though, after all district four was a career district. It had privileges that other districts did not have and in turn it allowed for a stronger place with more fortune and better things. The people were all the same, though, in every district you had the snobby, prissy and the sad depressed ones. There was nowhere she could go to escape that, even the Capitol had had a few of those, as rare a thing as it was.

Once more she found her eyes glued to the large expanse of water not too far away. She was dying to go see it and touch it. From the tales she had heard it was salty and tasted awful, and that only helped to increase Opal’s excitement. It was incredible that such a large expanse of water could not possibly be fresh and clean. How on Earth had it become salty? And what was more apparently some of the strangest creatures lived in there. Some of which had only ever been glimpsed, other seen killed and eaten. In the orphanage she had first lived in as a child she had been told the story of a gigantic whale, it had been bigger than the entire length of the district, according to the warden’s. She was dying to know if that was true, and if so she wanted desperately to see such a large animal. The biggest animal she had ever seen had been the combustiphant she had faced in the arena. Those giant beasts had been deadly. That had been her second fight for her life I that arena and she’d never forget it. The water glistened with the bright light of the sun; it touched its surface and flickered. Large waves rolled across the water and splashed against what could only be described as mountains of golden sand. From here the stuff looked as fine as flour.

It was absolutely amazing and she couldn’t stop her eyes from widening, awed by what she was seeing. In appearance this was her second favourite district. District eleven had, however, taken the place as number one, the sheer amount of plants there owning her heart for beauty. A questioning voice dragged her attention away from the sights before her. Swinging around she forced her a polite smile onto her lips. But as she gained her first look of the person that had interrupted her train of thoughts, it instantly faded to be replaced by a darkening scowl.

”Hello, Miss Shore! I'm Priscilla Lovelace. I thought we should meet face to face, given your relationship with my sister.” Priscilla Lovelace stood before her, hand outstretched, sitting in the tense air between them. Well in Opal’s opinion it was tensed, Priscilla on the other hand, looked like a bright merry little girl. She was far from peeved by Opal’s speech. In that way she appeared to be incapable of feeling the shame her parents had obviously experienced. Still, that had earned no brownie points with Opal, this girl was still, in all matters, annoying, selfish and in every way someone Opal did not like (her entire opinion of the girl based on Locust’s few words about her, reliable I know). Childishly Opal crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest before pouting and turning her eyes away from the older girl. Yeah she was being very immature and childish, but she felt as though this girl did not deserve her attention. She was the girl that had treated Locust so awfully after all. And if Opal did not have the restraint she did she would have probably punched her in the face already, her damaged, hand hitting her. The hit would have not even sparked a flicker of pain within her, as the nerve allowed for that. Well at least there was a good thing coming from her useless hand. However, she resisted that urge and instead glared at her, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge her presence.

You held me down, but I got up
Get ready cause I’ve had enough
I see it all, I see it now
I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire
Cause I am a champion and you’re gonna hear me roar

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[Python]

Priscilla did not often encounter rejection.

Insults and snide remarks she could endure - or rather, respond to with the proper amount of hostility. But she had been prepared to swallow her pride and absorb anything Opal wanted to throw at her, whether it be anger, guilt, despair, or a deadly combination of all three. She was familiar with the entire collection, after all. She knew what the storm of emotions felt like, as if she were a volacno about to burst and destroy everything around her, much like she had with the furniture during Locust’s final moments. She had hoped Opal would at least shout or demand that she leave. Instead, she did something much worse. Something that Priscilla could not walk away from.

She ignored her.

Arm still suspended in the air, she watched the delicate features of her admired hero contort beneath the force of a scowl, just as her eyes darted away from the blue orbs that pleaded desperately for acknowledgement (it was the only trait the two sisters ever shared - bright blue eyes, as if they belonged to district four’s ocean). To prove her point further, Opal folded her arms and refused to speak. She was giving her the silent treatment. Besides pranking, this had been one of Locust’s favorite behaviors, and she still couldn’t handle it.

Finally she dropped her hand, recognizing how worthless such a gesture would be to somebody who obviously disliked her. She would not be persuaded by the cold shoulder, however. On the contrary, it added a spark to her determination. If Opal would not speak, then she would, and while the words would not be completely kind they would not be unnecessarily cruel. She would only try to prove a point. ”I know what you must think of me,” she said, eyes glued to the stubborn victor. ”And I don’t blame you. I know that what I did was awful.” The belittling, the mistreatment, the mockery, and most of all the naivety: all this time she thought she understood everything about her adoptive sibling, but she didn’t. She didn’t know how insignificant Locust felt, or how ostracized she believed she was from the careers because of techniques that actually proved beneficial in the arena. She even described herself as a shadow, cast into the ground by Priscilla herself. There was no denying the treatment or justifying her crude behavior. There was only regret, and the hole in her chest drilled by guilt would now be as deep as Locust’s grave. ”But if you think I’m not mourning Locust’s death, you’re wrong.”

The barrier erected between her emotions and the surface was crumbling an inch with every word she uttered. Locust had been her favorite, but it was a fact she did not discover until after the reaping had separated them permanently. It was like everybody said; one cannot completely appreciate something until it is taken away from them. In this case, it was forever, and maybe - even after this realization - Locust had died with hatred in her heart. That was the worst part of it all.

Sighing through pursed lips, she stepped forward to attract Opal’s attention even further without invading her personal space. ”You’re the last connection I have with her,” she continued, the polite smile having vanished long ago. ”The next time I see her, she’ll be in a box ready to be buried.” That was the day she knew she would lose her composure for the second time since the beginning of the Games. When she imagined her younger sister, only two images came to mind: her lips curled into that mischievous smile, and the frozen frame of her bleeding body with eyes hollow and lips slightly parted with no expressions left to create. She didn’t want to see that corpse again. She knew the blood wouldn’t be there, but she knew what the body would look like. Pale, cold, eyes closed, eerily still, tranquil yet tragic, beautiful but empty. It would destroy her all over again.

”I admire you, Opal, and I came here to thank you. You don’t have to like me, but I want to know that you’re listening,” she said. Begging wasn’t as easy as people said it was, or perhaps she was too vain to make it apparent that she was indeed asking for her attention. It was safe to say that she didn’t deserve it, and she knew she couldn‘t hold a grudge against somebody whose loyalty remained solely with Locust. The real problem lied within Locust‘s judgment. Were she alive - or here, somehow, invisible yet conscious - would she accept Priscilla‘s silent apologies? Would she approve of Opal befriending her, if such a thing were to happen? That was one thing she didn‘t know about her sister. It would drive her into insanity just thinking about it. ”I’m in your debt, you know. Anything you want, you can have.” She hoped the girl would consider her offer. A tour of the district, a visit to the Lovelace home? She could have it all. She deserved it after proving her strength and loyalty in the arena. She knew Locust would at least agree with that.

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[cass]

I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything
You held me down, but I got up
Already brushing off the dust
You hear my voice, you hear that sound
Like thunder gonna shake the ground

It was uncharacteristically weird for Opal to be so childish. Her arms remained tightly locked across her chest, grasping her forearms, as though she feared Priscilla might force her to shake her hand. But after a few seconds of tense waiting the other girl seemed to give in to the fact that the scowling victor was not going to shake her delicate hand. Opal felt no sense of victory or relief at the admittance, on the contrary she felt annoyed at herself, and almost guilty for rejecting the girl. She’d grown up facing that kind of rejection, hate and anger every single day of her life, and even though she had gotten past it all, it was hardly fair on her behalf to through that similar pain at another soul. Regardless of the fact that they were rude, cruel and mean. Besides, as she glanced at the career she could see the soft blonde hair, blue eyes – eyes that looked too similar to Locust’s, and yet completely different in every aspect. Where Locust’s had been strong, brave and dependable, Priscilla’s seemed to gleam more with pride and hurt. The newest victor was sure that he hurt only resided there right now because of her own actions. Biting her lips she averted her gaze, hair falling around her face and into her eyes.

”I know what you must think of me,” she said, eyes not straying even an inch from Opal’s covered face. She could feel them burning into her skull, and after a few more hesitant seconds she looked upwards, defiant eyes meeting those blue ones. ”And I don’t blame you. I know that what I did was awful.” There was a downfall to her plan, that she hadn’t taken into account. She had refused to talk to Priscilla, and in doing so had left herself open to a long rant from the girl. That was not how this was supposed to work. Opal didn’t want to hear what the girl had to say, she didn’t want to know how Priscilla felt and oh how sorry she was for her beloved sister. Opal didn’t believe any of it, and it hurt her in her heart to know that this girl was just saying stuff… or that maybe there was a possibility it was true. She didn’t want to think that Priscilla was more then everything Locust had made her out to be. That girl was easier to deal with, that girl was cruel and mean and Opal could deal with that, she couldn’t deal with sensitive, and caring. That was not fair. ”But if you think I’m not mourning Locust’s death, you’re wrong.” The regret was thick in her voice, and Opal flinched away from it.

Part of her wished her sisters were more like the girl before her. She wanted them to feel regret and guilt for everything they had said and done to her. She wanted Pyrite to say she was sorry. Opal knew that even if she had of died Pyrite would never have been sorry, hell the girl probably would have laughed and smirked, her demeaning words ringing clearly in her mind, because she would have been right. And even now, even though Opal was alive she could not face the harsh words she had spat out, because she had been wrong. But here before her was a proud girl, lowering herself to say that she was sorry and that she did regret everything that she had done. It was all coming to the point where Opal would have to choose whether she believed those words or not. The victor did not want to have to do that. That blissful rage that came with knowing what was right and wrong was being taken from underneath her, to be replaced by an even spread in one girl, how can you stay angry at someone who is only human and not the monster you had thought they were? Opal couldn’t. That was the simplest answer she could formulate. There was not enough hate in her to remain angry and upset with Priscilla. The only thing stopping her from talking, though, was that act that she just wasn’t ready to forgive. ”You’re the last connection I have with her,” she continued, the air between them as cold as it was tense. ”The next time I see her, she’ll be in a box ready to be buried.”

That stung. The last time Opal had seen Locust she had been bleeding and very much dead. Opal had screamed, sobbed and cried, almost begging for the girl to return. But that had not happened. Instead she had faced her won tears and misery, knowing that she would either never see Locust again, and that if she somehow won and got out alive she’d be stuck with that pain for Ripred knew how long. Priscilla was in front of her saying how the next time she saw her would be in a box dead. Opal would have traded lives with her in a heartbeat. Seeing her dead, without a single scratch was completely different to what Opal had faced. She had seen Locust the day before she had died; she had talked to her and been with her, she had fought with her. And she had seen the true destruction that had befallen the girl with her own burning eyes. Seeing her dead was so much easier than seeing her in pain. That sounded harsh and cruel, but it was so very true to Opal. ”I admire you, Opal, and I came here to thank you. You don’t have to like me, but I want to know that you’re listening,” Why was she saying all of this? Why was she telling Opal this? Was she trying to make Opal re-live a time that was just pain? Was she trying to make her break and cry – because she was very well near that point? Opal hated the way she said she admired her, she hated how the words sounded on Priscilla’s tongue. ”I’m in your debt, you know. Anything you want, you can have.” Opal’s scowl deepened and she looked at Priscilla, eyes burning.

”I don’t ever want a single thing from you. The next time you see her will be in a box, do you know how much it hurt to be right there? To see her bleeding, to see her dying in front of you? Seeing her in a box might hurt you little heart, but it is nothing compared to watching her die in front of your eyes. Are you saying all of this to make me feel sorry for you?” She snapped, her emotions a pure reflection of her churning mind, and her aching heart. “How the hell could you ever say you admire me? I’m standing in the position that should be your sister, you should be angry, but you’re not, and you aren’t because you don’t care about her.” She spat. After a few seconds she covered her mouth with a shaking hand, tears brimming against her eyes. Looking away from Priscilla she slowly slide down and onto the ground, the pole she was leaning on being forced to hold her in a sitting position. Her fake leg stuck out awkwardly, but she couldn’t care less. “Look, Priscilla, I can see that you regret what you did. But I don’t think regretting something and feeling guilty about it mean a whole damned lot when she is dead. I’m sorry I snapped, that was not like me. But, seriously, you are going to have to wear that pain and regret for the rest of your life sorry doesn’t cut it, not when she is gone for good.”

You held me down, but I got up
Get ready cause I’ve had enough
I see it all, I see it now
I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire
Cause I am a champion and you’re gonna hear me roar

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[Python]

This was not the reaction she had hoped for.

Opal’s eyes were smoldering like hot coals, burning through layers of Priscilla’s defenses until only a thin envelope remained. The words that tumbled passed the victor’s lips demolished this final layer in a single sweep. Not seconds after the rant, Priscilla was glaring through a lens of red, blinded by the anger boiling in her blood. ”Seeing her in a box might hurt your little heart…” There was nothing more excruciatingly ignorant than that one line, and it was at this that her heart sped to a dangerous pace, flushing her cheeks with a rush of hot blood. And then there was the blatant accusation, ”you should be angry, but you’re not, and you aren’t because you don’t care about her.” A moment of shocked silence passed between the two of them until Opal seemed to realize the weight of her words, and covered her mouth as if wishing she could take it all back. It was far too late for that. Her vision was almost completely reddened with anger, even as she spotted the tears that reached the brims of Opal’s eyes. As Opal lowered herself to a sitting position, parting her lips to once again address the blonde who had only wanted peace, Priscilla’s hand found a tight grip around a nearby pole.

The second speech was calmer, but the painful sting hadn’t quite vanished. Opal didn’t seem to understand as much as Priscilla hoped she would. She was forgetting something crucial, and it would take everything in her power not to scream it at her like a fire-breathing dragon. Locust had always been a woman of poisonous words and trickery; Priscilla was purely physical. She would overturn furniture to make a point clear, if it wasn’t already crystal enough from shouts of rage. Even now, she couldn't comprehend how Locust could simply retain her composure. She was already on the brink of losing this battle with emotions. ”You apologized for snapping, and I accept it, but it’s only fair that I have a chance to retaliate,” she said, with a surprising amount of serenity, though it was evident in her quivering voice and tense shoulders that there was a tidal wave on the way. For safety measures, she took a step back and squeezed the pole to help channel her energy. Then, her barrier crashed once and for all.

”Let me start by saying how dare you accuse me of not caring about my sister, and how dare you try to belittle my suffering! You think I wasn’t watching the entire time? I saw the whole fight! I saw more than you did, more than the Capitol will ever show you. I watched her beg for Yaa to fight by her side, I watched Mikhail slice her leg off, I watched her scream, I watched him stab her through the neck, I watched her cry and I watched her die. So don’t try to tell me that what I saw was nothing.” she seethed, eyes alight in flames she had wanted to keep contained. Tears were stinging the corners of her eyes as the images flashed; Locust gasping for air in the arms of Yaa Valarro, eyes wide and frantic while Priscilla could only sit helplessly in her living room and shout for her sister‘s sake. Live on national television, moment by moment, completely raw - that was something Opal would never see. She only saw what the recap video revealed, and it was far from the complete truth. ”I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, but I will not feel sorry for you either. I lived with Locust for seven years. You only knew her for a few weeks. You can‘t hope to understand what or who I am, or how much I‘m suffering.”

She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. Her blood was simmering down and relieving her of the excess heat. Emotionally, she was too exhausted to continue, it seemed. Not unless Opal found another spark to ignite the flames. ”I don’t want feel angry with you. There’s no point. Locust is gone, and I’m glad that you were able to survive before any of the others.” Because they didn’t deserve it. Yaa, Mikhail? Good riddance. The others? Irrelevant. Opal was the single victor, and the only one who remained loyal to Locust even after her death. It was relieving, to say the least, despite Opal and Priscilla’s obvious differences in perspective and experience. ”Also, don’t tell me that my regret won’t mean anything. I’d rather apologize after she’s dead than hold my tongue forever.”

[cass]

I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything
You held me down, but I got up
Already brushing off the dust
You hear my voice, you hear that sound
Like thunder gonna shake the ground

There had been a time in her life when she would have never screamed at another living being. She had grown up in district one with a family that hated her. She had grown up having to keep her head down, to look away from anyone that looked her in the eyes. When people spoke to her she would hold her tongue, eyes shifting away before they got angry with her. She was always in the submissive position, especially when she sat in her garden, bent over her plants, bent of the things that gave her life. Her family knew it, she knew it and they took advantage of that. Everyone around her knew it from little more than a glance. It was why she had no friends. Career’s did not hang around others, especially those who had little control over their abilities. Most of all they were never seen talking to those under them, you had to be around those better then you are just as good, because if you weren’t you were left behind. If you didn’t know the right people you were left behind, punished and beaten. There were bullies, just like everywhere else and then there were those that suffered under their pride. Most of the time it was just the non-careers, but if they found careers that were weaker, or people they believed didn’t deserve that kind of privilege they’d take their anger out on them.

They’d punish them, and tear them apart. Everyone knew that there was ‘accidents’, there were those unfortunate cases where a child was killed in training. They were never accidents, yeah perhaps one or two of them had been, but normally they were the ruthless, blood-thirsty careers, trying to wheedle the weaker ones out. Opal had, in fact, been on the edge a few times, one of them she could remember so clearly. The boy had stabbed her, missing her stomach by centimetres, the blade had instead imbedded itself in her left thigh, it had been a serious wound, but not life-threatening. The kid had almost lunged at her again, and if the instructor had not stepped in she would have probably been killed. It was one of the reasons she had begun skipping training lessons, instead sticking to the confines of her garden where she only had to listen to people taunt her from the edge of their property, no one harmed her there. The only people that tried to hit her or hurt her in any way were her siblings, but they never seemed to have that same conviction to go in for the full on kill.

In that way the arena had merely been more than an extension of her life at home.

Opal looked at Priscilla angrily, eyes burning with pure, cold, malicious fury. This was not going at all had she had thought it would go. But then she had not even counted on meeting Priscilla. She had just wanted to do the talk, let the family know how much she despised them before leaving, with her heavy heart and teary eyes. That was all she had wanted, that was all she had hoped for. She had not wanted this. She didn’t want t re-live everything she wanted to run away from. She hated this, she hated it so much. It made her so angry, so unbelievably angry that she was even still standing here looking at Priscilla.

Everything that spilled from her lips was just annoying; it built that flame in her hand she was standing, eyes blazing in front of the older girl. Opal had known pain all her life, Opal had known what it was like to live with people just like Priscilla. She knew what it was like to suffer everyday with verbal violence. She knew what Locust had suffered from her family. How dare Priscilla tell her such things. How dare Priscilla tell her how much she was suffering. Opal knew exactly how Locust felt and she knew exactly how her siblings would have felt. She had been through the exact same stages with Emerald. She had watched her sister die a bloody, painful death, and Opal had watched her family not care. She had watched her family try and forget that the girl had ever existed. So yes, she could say with all her heart that Priscilla had felt not an inkling of pain in comparison to what she had felt. Opal had grown up with everything that girl had, she had experienced both sides of the same coin: She knew what Locust had felt and she sure as hell knew what Priscilla was feeling. After all she had sure as hell not given a damn about Emerald, the only thing different between them was that she had been the one suffering under Emeralds verbal abuse, whilst Priscilla had been the one ditching it out.

”I lived my entire life with people exactly like you. And I know exactly how you must be feeling. Don’t forget that I have been in the exact same situation. I have lost my sister as well. So I know how you feel, and I have also been in Locust’s situation, my life has been anything, but easy. I grew up being verbally and physically abused, maybe more so than what Locust ever received. But you can’t say to me that I have no clue what you are suffering. Don’t you dare forget that Emerald was my sister. Don’t you dare say I don’t know what you are suffering, because I think you feel exactly how I felt when Emerald died and yet I can’t possibly understand how you can feel a damned thing for her after everything you have done to her. She lost her family, and in the end you could never be for her what she needed. You were just a bitch, and now you have the nerve to say you’re sorry when it doesn’t even matter anymore.” She spits, and then without another word she spins and starts walking away. ”I’m done with you Priscilla Lovelace. You are nothing like Locust, when I look at you all I see are my sister’s.” She called, her eyes flickering backwards to give Priscilla a final glance.

ooc -- [ i am so sorry about her yelling, omfg Idek where this all came from, omfg this got crazy, nothing how we planned it all on skype ahahaha ]

You held me down, but I got up
Get ready cause I’ve had enough
I see it all, I see it now
I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire
Cause I am a champion and you’re gonna hear me roar

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[Python]

Everything was wrong, but she no longer cared. Opal was rude, childish, and self-pitying; very atypical for a career, yet not uncommon behavior among victors. It would never make her any less admirable, nor would it ever steer Priscilla away from the truth that this was Locust’s final and most loyal companion, somebody she should respect. But it was a hell of a challenge, tolerating ignorance and temper tantrums. They were both acting on behalf of their ignited nerves, all standing at attention, firing impulses at a dangerous speed, triggering reactions that were best left suppressed. Priscilla would admit that her previous explosion had been unnecessary, but she was infamous for such aggressive behavior. She did not take kindly to belittling, especially by someone who could not possibly understand anything about her life. Similar family situations meant nothing, and upbringing was irrelevant; unless Opal could rewind time and experience the world in Priscilla’s shoes, she would never, ever understand anything, thus she should be stripped of her rights to even pretend that she could.

”She lost her family, and in the end you could never be for her what she needed. You were just a bitch.” All this talk of Locust suffering abuse. All of this nonsense about what Locust needed - no, this was not the right way to approach the situation. Locust was not a victim, she was a warrior. She was not some disheveled orphan who crouched in corners tasting her own salty tears because of a few snappy words spat by a vain, older sister. She was not in need of any pity, and she was almost positive any ounce of pity would be unwelcome to Locust’s ears. She was not Opal. Locust was much, much stronger, and one of the sturdiest human beings she had ever encountered. As Opal turned away and prepared for a sudden, dramatic departure (and on such terrible terms), Priscilla clenched her fists and sighed, unable to summon the energy required for another outburst. Perhaps for once she would be civil.

”Do not speak of her like she is only a victim,” she retorted, adding only a sprinkle of fire to her tone to treat it as an assertive statement rather than something too wild or too tame. She did not want to sound harsh, but she would not display kindness either. Not after Opal’s menacing outburst, full of words that held no meaning to her. This was not a contest of pity and suffering; this was about Locust, who was dead, not about Opal, who was very much alive in her stead. ”She would not want to be remembered that way. She was a warrior, not some helpless damsel who wallowed in self-pity because of a few family issues.” She crossed her arms and scrutinized the form in front of her, her tone a little more accusing than she had originally planned. Of course she was nothing like Locust - is that what Opal had expected? A replica of Locust Lovelace? Priscilla was a completely different human being, with her own flaws and perks that would contrast with her sister‘s. If Opal had expected more of her, then it was no wonder she was upset about this predicament.

”You keep pretending that you actually understand me, but you don’t. Just because you have a few sisters doesn’t mean you know how I feel. We live two completely different lives, and unless you can experience my life through my eyes, with my body and my mindset you will never understand me.” Two personalities molded in two different environments were clashing, desperate to find something in common, but what did they really share other than the pain of Locust’s death? She had overestimated her ability to share feelings with somebody so alien to her, and Opal seemed to be doing the same. The meeting had turned into a disaster, and she wasn’t quite sure if she would rather end it now to cease the violent glowers and fire-spitting, or try to mend what they both had broken before it could thrive. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all. She would never see Opal again unless Priscilla were to make an appearance at the capitol. Volunteering had already crossed her mind once or twice, and she wanted the capitol to count on seeing the Lovelaces again. This time with a hand that could not be defeated.

”I don’t know what Locust told you, but don’t rely on her words to judge me. I can be a bitch, as you say, but I’m not evil.”

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