Of Hearts & Spades // [Hammeron]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

[googlefont="Arya:400"]

	CIRCE LYON
	Orion guides them around the burning scrap heap. Every step is heavier. More then once she stumbles into him, relying on the steady grip of his hand to keep her from becoming entangled with burning metal. Every few steps she turns her face to the dome, scanning. The Word she coiled with gold and crystal is long gone, and suddenly it seems a good a time as any. "I killed her, you know. Not Lily. I killed La Torre." Her breathing is shallow. She flips over a sheet of aluminium, clearing a path for him, avoiding his eyes. "With her own gun." It's the truth and a warning. She disentangles herself from him one clenched finger at a time. When she stumbles away, her vision is blurred, the water one blink from falling. But she doesn't blink. She kicks burning pieces of metal together into a sort of bonfire. Beyond the sound of combat boots on metal, she can hear him breathing. Just breathing. Just there. "Why haven't you left yet?" she asks quietly as she squats in front of the fire. She's not cold and yet she's frozen. She is matted hair and bloodied skin and hollowed out bones. All at once she cannot even stand being in her own body. Circe puts broken nails to duct tape, peeling it back from her fingers, taking skin and more with it. Even though it burns, she takes every sticky piece, plucking from her wrists, then her neck and skewed jaw, all around her eyes and to the edge of her hairline. The exposed skin is pale and raw, the bruises on full display. She looks to Orion, her constant mirror, to ask if there's any part of Circe Lyon left when she hears the chime of sponsorship. She doesn't even look at it; there's nothing she could deserve after today.
	district 2 female of the 70th Hunger Games

[Circe receives baby wipes from sponsorship and divides up the various bags she's collected.]

[She attempts to catch a Word.]

M_eOcHOd1-4

[failure]

1-4

[Cato]

	ORION HAMMERFELL
	For the longest time, I wasn't sure where I was going. I was just moving. Away. Eight of us remain. Just seven more deaths, including myself, then Circe can return home. That's my goal. District two needs another victor, and she is deserving of it more than anyone. I've watched her kill. I've watched her journey through the games. I've never left her side, and I don't want to. She's the most amazing person in the world. It's a shame that I chose now to fall in love knowing that it won't last much longer. "I killed her, you know. Not Lily. I killed La Torre." Her voice breaks through the silence leaving me shocked. How could she kill one of us? Our friends? Sighing to myself, I stand there as she pulls away from me. I can't find the words. I can't do anything anymore. Why did I even try? Why have I walked through the arena with them? Why did I make friends? Why did I fall in love? So many questions shoot through my mind, and I'm left speechless. Hearing the rest of it makes me slightly anxious, but right now I would lay my life down for her. I hate the games. I hate what they do to people. I hate what they've done to me. All I've wanted was to go home to Mason. He's waiting for me. I volunteered to die. The silence is deafening. All I can hear is her boots connecting with the scrap metal. Smoke and ash fly from it. Soot covers it along with blood. Fresh blood. It's all over the place, and it makes me sick. "Why haven't you left yet?" It's a stupid question because she knows the answer to it. She knows how I feel about her, and I can't leave her behind. Carefully, I touch her face with my fingers. "You know why." And I watch as she rips the duct tape from her body. It's almost painful watching this, but what can I do? The love of my life is in pain, and this is the only pain I've never been able to deal with. I want to save her. I want to make sure she's okay, but before I can do anything I can hear a parachute falling from the sky. Running over to it, I look at the name, and it's for Circe. I remove the container from the parachute and look inside. A small smile forms on my face. Baby wipes. I can clean her up. I can make her the Circe Lyon she was before entering the arena. Carrying them over to her, I remove one wipe from the package. Kneeling down beside her, I look into her eyes. As gently as I possibly can, I start wiping all the dirt and grime away from her. All the dried blood. Everything. It won't change her, though, because she's beautiful both inside and out no matter what.
	district 2 male of the 70th Hunger Games

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

[googlefont="Arya:400"]

	CIRCE LYON
	He speaks, and the words are good words. True words. She still won't meet his gaze even as his fingers travel down her cheek and over her chin. When he presents her with the wipes, it takes her a moment. Then, she laughs. "I guess that answers one of my questions. Thank you," she says the last with her face lifted to the domed sky and then she surrenders to him. She lets her last remaining ally wash away the blood of the others. He takes away the dirt and ash of their graves from her exposed skin. Somehow there's still pale flesh beneath the layers. She's as surprised by that fact as she is by the sudden shudder of delight at being even a little bit clean. The feeling threatens to leave as Orion wipes the last of the blood from the tops of her ears. There are still more wipes and she shouldn't be embarrassed; Orion has seen her in far more interesting positions. But without Elya - Elya the name rattles in her emptying skull - and La Torre, it's different. There's no wings of cash, no sure fingers opening her mouth and extracting kitten purrs. There won't ever be again. Boom. Circe shudders once, violently, the grief lodging in her spine. It is not weaker or stronger than her; it is her. One piece cannot define the whole; she won't let the grief overwhelm the remainder of her poisoned half-life. Bit by bit she disrobes, laying soiled cloth between herself and Orion. She stripes away her Lyon pendant. At last, she is bare before him. The orange glow of the fire warms her skin even more than Orion's gentle touches. When there are no more wipes left, Circe tucks her thighs to her chest, arms around ankles, chin to knees. She watches the fire burn down to a glow and snuff out. Only then does she turn to him and press her cheek to his. Her whisper is fierce and tight and for him alone. In the dark, she reaches for his belt. Later, her twisted hair spread across his chest, her cheek to his heartbeat, she thinks about lying to him. I love you, she could say, even though she doesn't. I don't love you, she could say, even though she doesn't. There, breathing his breaths and hearts beating in tune, she finds what he's known all along: sometimes silence is best.
	district 2 female of the 70th Hunger Games

[Circe attempts to catch a Word.]

iKlfdCcj1-4

[SUCCESS!]

1-4

[Cato]

	ORION HAMMERFELL
	Circe didn't need the wipes to make her look more charming. I love her no matter how she looks. The dirt and blood and everything is only a reminder of the hell we live in. I can't look away from her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and I know it'll only last a few more days. It's almost over, and I want this to be perfect. No worries in the world. Just me and her. And the entire nation watching. I've heard the cannons. I've counted them. I know what they sound like. I know that I can stand hearing much more of them - my time is coming soon, and in a way it terrifies me. I'm afraid to die, but I want to. I want to see Mason again because I need him. I need his help to get me through this. To get Circe home. Piece by piece she disrobes. It's almost uncomfortable, but I don't stop removing the dirt and grime. But I can't take my mind off of her. The way she looks. The way she moves. Everything about her is perfect. I never imagined I would fall in love in this place, but I have, and it's not fair that I won't ever fall in love again. It doesn't matter though. Eventually I run out of the wipes, and Circe is moving towards me. Butterflies dance in my stomach over and over flipping my intestines around. She's closer and closer and we're touching. I want to embrace her in my arms. I want to hold her forever. I completely relax as she presses her cheek against mine. I don't know how much time has gone by. I don't know what to tell her. I don't know what to say, but the silence is fine. I'm the happiest I've ever been because this is my last life. This is all I have left. It's everything that I'll ever know. All I can hear is breathing, and I'm fine with that. I'm happy being with the love of my life. And that's something go won't ever forget. I've enjoyed each and every moment I've had in this arena with Circe. I always felt like I am not good enough for her. Not at all. I feel as if there's one last thing I have to do in order to help her. I can only hope she doesn't guess my intention to kill myself in order to ensure her victory. Silence is much preferred right now. I'd betray my intentions if I spoke even a single word. I love Circe, but it's time I finally leave this arena not alive, but in a box.
	district 2 male of the 70th Hunger Games