Don't hold the pen [Pris/Cole]

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Chapter 3
(...a continuation)

So many a tributes had Prismarine came in contact with since leaving her home back in district twelve. A lot of them intimidating as she had mentioned in the interview with Caesar and some of them she found that she could befriend. As it turned out, being the youngest meant that a lot of the tribs had overlooked her for one reason. That didn't stop the prying eyes of the youth and soon enough, she'd calculated who she felt comfortable with and those that wanted to see the ill fate of her life. As the days were coming at a close, the training center had been deemed less interesting for her patience. It was either constant training and fighting or learning how to create fire but adversaries wasn't something they trained the tributes for.

Before heading to the training center for yet another session, Prismarine wandered from her penthouse. Her district partner had yet to show interest in being a friendly face from home causing her the disinterest and to be more of a snoop.

"What levels can I sneak into." Came her curious whispers but before she could push the button to the living quarters, movement caught her eye in the gardens not far from the stay rooms. Contemplating, she rocked back and forth on her heels before heading in the direction of the mysterious person.

Inside of the gardens, she noticed that it had been a tribute the whole time and he seemed to be preoccupied doing something. She stepped lightly and got closer to him, passing by the many flowers, both common and exotic, until she was practically standing beside him, glancing to the page of words jumbled.

"If you wanted to hide your words from the world, you've done it. Sloppy."

[Tom]

The gardens felt almost like his safety in Hailsham Academy.

The greenery always seemed to find a way to ease the tension of death hanging on the edge of his vision. Liam once joked about him truly coming from seven, but seven would never be home. One day, he wanted to see it. Just to feel the safety of a forest in his eyes and write from the paper made there. Journal in his hands as he begins writing down the emotions of something far more powerful than he intended. Hopes. Dreams. Things he could achieve if he's to win, if he's to save Liam. Musings of the world around him as if death weren't still hanging above his head like a guillotine ready to cut his head clean from his neck.

"If you wanted to hide your words from the world, you've done it. Sloppy."

His skin crawled with surprise, but he didn't dare jump in front of someone else. The voice was far from familiar, but he knew it had to be one of the tributes. Young in the tone, he could probably guess it was the youngest of all the tributes, but he doesn't even dare move, instead opting to just ignore the voice for a bit. Letting the last of his words flow onto the pages as he slams it close with a thump as he turns around to look into the smallest of the tributes.

She was able to sneak up on you.

A laugh almost breaks from his throat, except he keeps himself blank faced as he stares at her. Not moving a single muscle as he takes in the unfamiliar face of twelve, who definitely will not be winning, despite what the victors of twelve think. Can't have another twelve win again. Snow might actually take their heads one of these days.

"Glad to know you can't read at all. Maybe you can finally learn to here in the capitol, kid."

[*]

Chapter 3
(...a continuation)

The many flowers that surrounded this tribute amazed her. Even though her attention was temporarily taken from him, she returned to the tribute's handwriting when he refused to acknowledge her being there. Curiosity struck her and a heavy sigh followed. Arching eyebrows, she continued to watch him write a few more words that she could barely make out. Without a response, she inched closer just by a hair and then backed up.

"Are you deaf?" Wrapping her arms around her back and intertwining her fingers, she once again, rocked back and forth on her heels. He looked at her finally and she stared him down in return. "Or just ignoring me like everyone else? I'm a tribute, too, in case you forgot. Volunteered in fact."

The act of confidence shown through her teeth with a proud grin.

"Glad to know you can't read at all. Maybe you can finally learn to here in the capitol, kid."

Her mouth dropped to his comment. "Well, I thought I would learn too, but they don't waste their time on hopeless cases. So, I got dismissed from class. You, on the other hand might want to work on being neater if you want anyone to read your work after the games." She knew all too well that this tribute had more of a chance of returning then herself. She had accomplished already what she set out to do so far.

"You wanna teach me instead?" Her hand reached for his journal to open it again. The book now settled in her hands and the front of the book became her playground to examine. "What is this thing?"

[Tom]

"Well, I thought I would learn too, but they don't waste their time on hopeless cases. So, I got dismissed from class. You, on the other hand might want to work on being neater if you want anyone to read your work after the games."

Yawn. She was boring him. Self depreciation and all of that. Read his work after the games. Yeah, he wasn't going to let anyone do that anyways. The journal was meant for his eyes and his eyes only. No one else would read this journal, even if he had to put his life on it. Little girls weren't meant to play these games, but he'd tear her down if it meant saving Liam from Hailsham. A sigh from his lips as she speaks once more.

"You wanna teach me instead?"

The girl's fingers pry the notebook away as he stares dumbfounded at this kid who didn't know what she was getting into. He felt hollow. Alone. Empty without the journal with him. A silence filling him as he stares openly at the dumb girl from twelve. She's got guts for a kid, but he didn't care. He didn't care if she was brave or not. Right now, he didn't care about her and all he cared about was that journal and getting Liam out. If he was gonna be an asshole, then so fucking be it.

"What is this thing?"

He lunges forward as he pries the journal from her hands, harshly. Fingers wrapped around the leather pulling with every single muscle in his arms, until it comes out of her grip. Roughly, he shoves her backwards, not caring the damage or the way it happens. This was his. No one else's. No one could see it. No one could see the way his heart burned. No one could see the way his emotions unfolded onto the page as a safety net to catch him from this horrendous world. Instead, he clutches it tight to his chest as the adrenaline rushes in his veins, words fumbling from his lips.

"Don't fucking touch my shit!"

Fire burning through those pages.

"Or next time, it'll be fucking worse, kid."

[*]

Chapter 3
(...a continuation)

The old leatherback book had been in her hands for only three seconds. Enough time for her to open the book and see a word or two she could make out before his reaction. Had she been reactive for it, she would have steadied herself in time for the repercussions of her actions, but this boy, this older tribute of the eighty third games, determined that she was nothing more than an ant and he was the boot she had gotten under.

Speed and strength caused a whirl of wind to brush against her hair. The journal snatched back in the roughest form almost burning her fingers in the process if she'd actually wanted to hold on to it with her life. It wasn't hers and giving it back would have been all too easy, but for him, there was something about the book he desperately needed back without another moment to lose.

"He-" The words were automatic and abrupt as those very hands that snatched the book came barreling into her chest. The force knocking the wind out of her lungs before she even hit the ground with a thud. A yelp, tiny but forced escaped. "Owah! What the..."

"Don't fucking touch my shit!" His mood had escalated so fast and the action of the shove still had her mind reeling. She sat up with a shallow breath, unable to fully catch it. "Or next time, it'll be fucking worse, kid."

She shook her head, adrenaline soaring but somehow she concealed the grin pulling on either side of her cheeks. "Worse then being reaped? I highly dou... doubt that, dude." She dusted off her shirt and hands looking to the dirt caked on her hands and under her nails.

"You know that my stylist is going to be mad when she sees what you did to my manicure." Prismarine scowled and wiped her hands on the capitol clean clothes. Something made her wonder though. A name was etched on one of the pages that she had turned to and as much of a curious nature she had, she had to know everything before she died. "So, who is he? Who is Liam? I saw the name in your journal. Is he family or a friend? Is that why you shoved me for a book?"