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Hello after this long break Look who's here (bet ya didn't expect me) From announcements: the writing style may feel off, I was on a long break. It should get better over the next week or so~
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It starts with a loud shot that rings through the air as the timer displayed over their heads reaches zero. The air, thick with tension and prescience of blood, moves suddenly. A rush of wind comes from the middle, unannounced, hitting the twenty-four children that stand around the middle in the face. Waking them up. Whispering run in their ears.
In Mags' head, it starts with a rush of anger she hasn't felt in ages. It starts with a tinge of fear that murmurs, in the back of her head: run.
Run! Rose thinks, disowning the thought as soon as it appears, but her eyes follow the girl in the arena as she turns around and (faster than Rose though she was capable of) disappears behind the walls of the closest building.
Mags can hear the screams outside, leaning on the wall as her head spins with images of blood. Just for a second more. Just for a breath, before her frantic eyes fall on the staircase and Mags, stumbling through the steps, falling over and trying to ignore the screams that crescendo behind the cement blocks, climbs higher and higher.
Rose can't see her victim anymore.
Mags cannot see anything. At least that's what this feels like. Blood covers her vision; blood or anger or fear, or maybe just panic that takes control and deforms the girl into a scared animal; a bird fleeing its burning nest.
Mockingjays screech in Coriolanus' ears as he watches the screens. Colours blend in his eyes; the first blood stains the picture, a horridly exciting view for the citizens of capitol. They got better cameras this year: the viewers can almost spot the drops of sweat on tributes' face as they run away or toward danger. Coriolanus is looking, too, but the pictures elicit a reaction he did not expect. In the midst of unstopping screams, memories and nightmares sneak into his thoughts. Hurt sneaks into his heart.
He picks up his hand, which instinctively reaches for its other half, but he has to hold back. Fingers stretch and close over empty air. Weakness, he reminds himself, is not something he can afford.
Meanwhile, Rose's breath picks up.
Now it almost matches that of a girl who's running up and up an up, trying to get onto the rooftop of a building. The sun has not yet risen when Mags steps out again, its red rays blinding her. They camouflage the blood that paints her skin. The cold wind is hitting her face and forcing a longer breath into the girl's lungs. The camera mounted on a drone closes up on her. Rose sees as she closes the hatch leading to the roof and sits down on it, turning her eyes away from the sun and toward the arena.
