❛ HOPE ISN'T SOMETHING GIFTED TO YOU
IT'S SOMETHING YOU ACHIEVE. ❜
in which a small girl from district ten must
protect those she loves, or die trying.
𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙇𝙀𝙏𝙀𝘿 (UNDER HEAVY EDITING)
― oc x...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"GOOD SHOW!" It is Atlanta's voice that first greets them. She thrusts out a slender arm to meet Silver's, long acrylic nails slightly scratching against younger fingers as she does.
The backstage of the chariot parade is filled with other District teams doing the exact same. Over to her left, District Eleven are tugging back long trains of woven wheat and their Escort is practically ripping at the edge to avoid the costumes catching on the metal. When Silver looks over to her right, District Nine are already gone — shuffled off somewhere to avoid the glare of other Tributes. Silver cannot blame them. It has been seconds and yet eyes already dart in crosswires from chariot to chariot.
"You two happy now? Have I proved my trade?" Tigris asks, her slender body appearing from behind Atlanta. Bradley and Saffra stand a few paces behind her sharing an inquisitive look over towards the Districts lined up further down on the left side. But Bradley's eyes seem uncertain once more, unsure how to take the reactions from the Capitol crowds. A coarse palm comes up to rest upon the back of his head, filing his fingers through reluctantly brushed hair.
When Silver's gaze turns back to respond to Tigris, any sight of the tiger-striped woman had vanished. And, as her eyes search through the groups of tributes and mentors alike, a pair dares to stare back. A girl of strong build — glossy raven hair hanging wild from a braid. There's a stern expression etching itself onto her face, her dress gleaming in the flickering backlit spotlights. The material is rich, far too expensive for anything she's ever seen a District Ten Tribute wear in the past years' games. It's metallic gold, maybe a hint of chrome too.
Bradley is looking away and tangling himself tighter in the caution he's worn since the Reaping. He doesn't notice this girl approach, nor Silver taking a few paces forward to meet her.
She smirks before her lips part. "Cute."
"What are you supposed to be?" Silver asks, not letting the remark shift her focus. This girl hasn't let her glare move away from her since their eyes met. Silver will not be the first to look away.
"Does it matter?" She rebuffs. Arms raise to her chest and fold. "Stones and shit."
Stones and shit is right, at least. This girl wears marble and steel equally well, and they converge in the form of some kind of plate at the centre of her chest. A knight, perhaps? From those strange tales of old kids pass around in the school playgrounds. She is regal, and the finery gleams beside District Ten's furs.
