"Finnick Odair, you hold onto your charm like it's a lollipop you can't be deprived of, yet you still gag at the taste of that candy even when it's your lifeline holding you afloat. You store secrets like a stash of sweets no one but yourself knows...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~ 𓆉 ~
Kaida Crestwood was the epitome of a fallen angel. A beauty who basked in the pleasure of love and family until she couldn't anymore, thrown into a world of loneliness and despair after the 65th hunger games. It was a slap in the face of a completely different world without her sister; Her best-friend and lifeline gone. She once had it all. But that life has long left her, an ineffable thought that both her and her mother begged to be rid of. Though the waves kept coming in her mind, pounding into the stone barrier she had desperately and longingly put up as it slowly wilts away each passing second without her other half. The storm was brewing and it was only so long before it reached shore.
It was a game of sorts, alike traveling through a labyrinth with no end. Kaida would try to fortify the existing walls as they crumbled but it never helped. She had become inure to the way her life now was. Alone. She still had her mother and that was truly all she needed, yet it still wasn't the same. It never would be. Kaida was longing for the love of her sister like no other, and in spite of that she had to accept her sister was gone. Forever.
She was Icarus chasing the sun and in the process had fallen into a vast unknown even she couldn't predict. She had no one to catch her - a place her sister would've held - except herself. Her wings had crumbled with her other half, knowing she was now alone in this nightmare of a world. Yet Kaida tried desperately to steal back the fire and spark in her life. She fought for the same adoration from her mother that was once there and sought for revenge against the capital. But the Gods knew that pilfering the fire gifted to superiors wouldn't work - Prometheus had learned that the hard way.
She would have to work for what was to be gained. Life did not come easy when Fate, Time, and Death all liked to play the roles of puppeteers. They would use their marionettes to no end, running them dry, and then some. They basked in the horror and dread of others as they watched, wine in hand and popcorn by their side, as more and more of their puppets ran through Hell and back. It just so happened their favorite little toy was in the form of a blonde girl who had too much loathing of the world to be deemed simple hate.
And now she was left alone, the vast ocean swallowing her whole and the birds prying away at her flesh. A torture that she had to deal with herself, for no one could pull her from the abyss Icarus had collapsed into. She had lived in an ephemeral world once. But that world was far shattered beyond belief, her own personal Hell forged by the hands of her manipulators. And now she was the Devil searching for revenge.
