The Sweet Tang in Sour {Fiona, Oliver, & Auto // Mar & Kap}

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

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A plethora of aromas encircle the vast room designated to meals. The delicacies of fruits snap across nostrils. Sweetened pastries fluffed to perfection scent an encourage for rumblings from stomachs. Sizzling meats induce water to salivate beneath tongues. Such smells consistently consumed the centers in Three for trading, though a heavy hint of pee doesn’t linger here as it does back home. Hunger aches from my core, though it’s a deliberate sensation felt many times before - at least now it’s by my choice, decided for actual reasons rather then a mere punishment. Many are stuffing calories into their mouths, as if preparing for hibernation in the weeks to come. But once the days pass and the fat burns, their bodies will be expecting more mouthfuls.

Many aspects seemingly obvious to me, appear completely unknown to the majority. Such as the cutesy redhead from Nine, openly naive to the Panem itself. Sweetness curls from every word I’ve managed to eavesdrop from her, kindness being directed to especially the younger Tributes, without a single taste of sourness in hearing range. And sure enough, the goody two-shoes is behind me in the line to the buffet. A sorrowful sugariness seems to radiate from her, like she understands the cruelty of this Panem but is convinced goodness still lingers somewhere - if only the latter part were true. Another deceiving grin spreads across my features from ideas.

Without a second of reconsideration, my eyes fall blank while my limbs appear to go lifeless and collapse me to the floor. Fainting has been a perfected talent of mine for over a decade now, used in the most dire of times to gain sympathy and get Larceny and myself out of any poor predicament. Being caught hasn’t cursed us for years, while the skill still embraces me pristinely. The sparring weapon, I’ve stealthy kept beneath my attire, does clank against my hip uncomfortably from poor planning - but a reaction doesn’t crinkle my expression even meekly. Now to just await for my victim to fall pray to my trap.

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