Worth it | F.O.

VII

“You never did give me an answer.”

“Huh? To what?”

“What do you think?”

“Oh.”

Nivea raised her eyebrows to reinstate the question. 

Crop glanced away. “I just need to… think it over.”

She blinked, entirely unbothered as she knew the chances of him turning down his one chance for survival were infinitely slim, and answered, “Okay.”

He made to glance her way for a moment despite her blatant ignorance of his presence for that moment, eyes stopping where they were settled on their way to their original destination. All that they had been talking about floated from the pair's minds with the sight before their very eyes. If Nivea was given a single word to describe what lay before her, past the thick windows of the train they had spent the last day in and the confines of metal, she simply couldn't. 

There were so many thoughts and feelings to go along with twisted beauty such as this. Malicious could never work as it truly did not look anything like that despite how they all knew the true natures of the sprawling buildings and bright lights. Neither could a word as wonderful as, well, wonderful, for it held much too innocence fit for such a place well-known for their sacrifice of their slaves' children in the name of their own selfish sport. 

The only word she could find to pinpoint such a thing with not at all enough credit to its full extent could be said in two ways. One symbolized horror whilst the others simply did so an exclamation of amazement. 

The sight before them? Terrific. 

Afternoon light spread across the clear sky blocked out by lights at night, clouds drifting by and dimming the sunlight's ever-present glow every once and a while. She was glad she wasn't the only one who seemed so very awe and horror struck to be standing before the Capitol. Oh how long she had waited to be standing where she was, simply even if it was still on false flooring and behind a thick border of metal and glass. Simply just the sight of such a place was enough to make her feel as if she was finally on the way to fulfilling all she owed. 

Her fist clenched by her side with every passing moment, the city flying by in blurs of extravagant colors rarely ever seen in the districts, every moment bringing alternating senses of confidence and anxiety. She hated it. Her skin crawled with the tightening of her lungs and it got the point where a simple fisted hand was nowhere near enough to stall the quickening of her breaths. 

In all truth, this had never happened before. She had never before shown such loss of composure and weakness as to falter before all that depended on her. Well, perhaps, she realized now, that was the problem. She never would've thought such pressure could actually get to her as it did now. 

So she did something to calm it down. But, as with everything she did, she did not do so without some kind of ulterior motive. 

Crop was startled to say the least, jumping practically right out of his skin when a hand gripped his arm. His head whipped to the side to question the elder girl but something about her in those seconds prevented him from actually saying a word. Her cold features showed nearly no change. 

But there was one contradictory thing he could notice from where he stood so close by. Nivea's eyes darted about frantically as if searching for something to hold her down, to ground her and take her away from the anxiety surfacing so ferociously after having been buried for so unbearably long. There was also the periodic way in which her lips pursed to let in another rushed bout of air, the grip around his arm tightening with each unsuccessful intake of oxygen.