A SNAKE HIDDEN UNDER THE SKIN OF A MASTERMIND
She reads people as if they're books.
She used people as if they're objects.
She manipulated their minds as if they're games to her.
She had the whole Panem in the palms of her very hands.
So when she...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
before;
——When Arson was young, she fooled around with fire. She was fascinated by how one small flicker of the light could become big if consumed the right flammable materials, and admired how it danced from one color to another based on the minerals it was mixed with.
It's what killed her father in the first place. Her recklessness was the cause of his death, yet every paper that covered his passing said it was caused by a rebel explosion.
Since then she promised herself she wouldn't stand too close to the flames. Afraid that she would get herself burnt.
Instead she spent her life, helping her mother take care of the kind elderly woman who lived across their street. "Grandma'am" was what she asked Arson to call her when she first arrived, along with the words of; "Such delicate face you have, Irene. Why on earth would you choose to be called Arson." She tsked.
Maybe it was because she loved setting things on fire. Her thirst for pyromania was difficult to be contained until the day her own obsession killed her father.
Or maybe it was the way her father had called her his 'little arsonist.' that made her choose it for her identity.
Either way, it doesn't matter. A name is just a name.
She and her mother now had a roof over their heads after the rebels destroyed hers, and to repay for their staying, Arson's mother had offered to become Grandma'am's caretaker since the woman was clearly not getting younger.
However, bad fortune seemed to strike the Snows as they received the news of the death of Crassus Snow. Arson was forced to wear her black dress once again as she accompanied Grandma'am to the dining room. She was sitting in front of the fire, making sure to create some distance from it, and watched the flames dance around as it lit the dark room. The dark haired girl found it soothing, as it distracted her from the war outside.
Every time she tried to look out the window whenever she passed by, but her mother always stopped her. "Don't you dare look outside that window, Arson." her mother scolded her. "It seems like the war outside keeps raging on. Who knows when it'll stop."
But when she heard someone knock on the door, the sound directed her gaze from the fire to it.
"I'll open it." Arson's mother said. But before she could set down the jug of water, Arson had already stood up from her seat and approached the oak door. "I'll do it." The little girl said, ignoring her mother's disapproving eyes.
