in which girl and boy are forced into their almost certain death. in order to live, they know one of them must die.
this is their story.
peeta mellark x julia arlock (oc)
(planning to update every 5-7 days!)
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the girl on fire.
i stare down at the dress laid out on my bed and subconsciously twist my necklace. it is beautiful and elegant compared to my normal wardrobe. the dress itself is a soft green color and made of a light material that feels cool against my skin. the sleeves cut off just below the shoulders and are garnished with sheer lace.
lily's dress.
suddenly, she is here, standing in the mirror behind me. just like always her long, dark hair is swept up in a loose bun and her olive skin is dark in the low light. our gazes meet and she smiles.
lily and i didn't look anything alike. she was the spitting image of my father, with sharp features and most of the physical characteristics associated with the seam. i've always been told i don't really look like either of my parents. my long hair is wavy and golden brown and my skin is a warm tan. where my father's and sister's features are sharp, mine are soft like my mother's. the only physical similarity between my sister and me is our eyes. they fit neither the uniform gray of the seam nor the blue of town. our eyes are a light sea green, a color that changes depending on the light or what we wear.
i shake my head slightly and lily is gone. i sigh softly, a huff of relief and a little disappointment. she is everywhere this reaping day.
the dress perfectly hugs my waist, flaring out and cutting off at my knees. the scoop neckline, also adorned with lace, shows off my collarbones and the simple silver necklace that sits there. another tribute to lily.
my mother is sitting in the kitchen as i walk out of my room, smiling at the sight of me in the dress. somehow, today is one of her better days.
"look at you," she says softly. "you're growing up." i dip into an awkward curtsy to make her laugh. "come here. let's do your hair."
she towel-dries my damp locks before taking two sections of hair and braiding them tightly. my mother weaves the strands together before tying the rest into a tight ponytail. we walk to the mirror and she places her hand on my shoulder, beaming at our reflection. i don't look like myself. my usually unruly curls have been tamed with my mother's help, the dirt and grime from the woods has been scrubbed away, and in lily's dress, i almost look...
"beautiful," my mother says proudly. i smile at her and close my eyes as she places a light kiss on my forehead. it's days like these when i realize how much i truly miss her.
my father is nowhere to be seen but this is nothing new. we know he will somehow find his way to the square before the names are drawn. searching for him will only be a waste of time.
too soon, it is time to leave. everyone in town walks solemnly towards the town square. attendance to the reaping is mandatory unless you're extremely sick and most don't want to leave their fate up to the judgment of the peacekeepers. those who they deem fit enough to attend are imprisoned.
katniss, prim, and i walk together while our moms tread behind us. on top of the buildings, capitol camera crews swoop their cameras around, capturing the fear on the faces of the children below. the finger prick is quick and then we are separated. our mothers go stand off to the side with the other parents, all of them holding a collective breath that will only be released when they know their child is safe another year. prim walks to the back of the square with the rest of the twelve-year-olds, shooting a terrified look back at us as she goes.
katniss and i file in with our age group and i take a quick look around the square. the stage set up in the front is the same every year; a podium with a mic, and the two glass bowls filled with the names of the district 12 children. my chest grows cold thinking about the twenty julia arlock entries in the female bowl. mayor undersee and the district 12 escort, effie trinket, are whispering worriedly about the absence of haymitch abernathy, the only living district 12 victor. i force down a chuckle at effie's new bubblegum pink hair.
the clock starts to chime out the arrival of two o'clock and the mayor walks forward to give his speech. haymitch still hasn't taken his seat but there's no more time to wait. the speech is the same every year, all about the war between the districts and the capitol that led to the games, so i allow my attention to drift away. on the male side of the square, i see harlow turn and our eyes meet. he shoots me a crooked grin and rolls his eyes. i can't help but smile back.
harlow and gale standing next to each other looks like a pair of handsome twins. they both have the same dark brown hair and olive skin and their eyes are the same piercing shade of silver. however, it's in their eyes that you can see the fundamental differences between them. where gale's gaze holds anger and fire, harlow's holds mischief and mysteriousness. you can never tell what he's planning to do next.
i am snapped out of my stupor by the pride and joy of district 12 bursting onto the stage. haymitch, drunk as ever, stumbles across the stage before collapsing into his chair. he gives effie a big hug, knocking her wig slightly off-center. a giggle escapes the crowd before it is snuffed out. perhaps it is not safe to be laughing. i still find it hard to hide my grin as effie bounces up to the mic, allowing the red-faced mayor to run back to the safety of his seat.
"well!" effie chirps "happy hunger games! and may the odds be ever in your favor!" she beams and turns to the glass bowl to her right. "ladies first!" the click of her ridiculously high heels clomp across the stage and her hand reaches into the sea of papers. a deathly silence falls over the crowd, no one even daring to take a breath. she snatches one up and returns to centerstage. as effie fumbles to open the name, the ghost of her voice rings over and over in my head.
katniss everdeen. julia arlock.
lillian arlock.
lillian.
lillian.
lily.
finally, she gets it open. her fuchsia lips pucker as she reads and then she speaks.
it is not katniss. it is not me. it is not possible.
"primrose everdeen!"
no.
it can't be.
i whip my head around to see prim walking slowly up to the stage, fists curled tight by her side. the back of her blouse has come untucked, giving the impression of a little ducktail. i cannot speak, i cannot breathe, i cannot think. katniss must be...
katniss. she is staring with a dropped jaw at her sister but i know soon she will come out of that haze and jump into action. there is no way she'll let prim go into the games.
and then i am eleven again. the peacekeepers are dragging away my sister for the last time while my mother drops to her knees, sobbing. a week later, i was an only child. that cannot be katniss. that cannot be prim.
just as katniss starts to step forward, i grab her arm and pull her back. she looks at me with wide eyes as i run through the mass of sixteen-year-olds i've known my whole life and yell, "prim!"
