Die for You | Catching Fire

chapter thirty-six

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chapter thirty-six
WATCH YOUR BACK

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tw: violence, character death
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"What?"

Sage doesn't realize she's spoken her revelation aloud until she feels Ptolemus staring at her. She ignores him at first, eyeing the Arena again just to be sure. She recounts the number of sectors and the gongs echoing in her memory. Lightning still crashes and rages across a corner of the sky. Cashmere adjusts her position and Enobaria grumbles before closing her eyes again. Augustus just watches the tree very quietly.

Then her eyes move around the clock, first starting at Midnight. If her theory's correct, they're camping in what would be from the seventh to eighth hour. Jaguar Mutts from six to seven, quicksand from five to six. God knows what else in the others. The wave happened in the tenth.

She comes to the conclusion that Plutarch Heavensbee is a madman. A genius madman. Crafting an Arena that not only is horrific and terrifying, but extremely clever. Torturing the Tributes while giving them the tools to tell time for his outlandish plan that might save them all. She thinks back to his Mockingjay watch.

Clever bastard.

"Sage?"

When she looks over at Ptolemus, he's staring at her warily, face creased with worry. She realizes she's smiling a bewildered smile. Now she's the one who appears like they've gone mad. She clears her throat and straightens, inching closer to him. She keeps her voice a whisper even though she probably doesn't need to with the waves and the storm.

"I think I figured it out." Sage suppresses her grin, glancing to Augustus warily. He isn't paying them any mind as he digs his spear into the sand, probably drawing something disturbing and violent. Ptolemus inches closer to hear her. "The Arena's a clock."

She points subtly to each sector as she explains it all. The quicksand from five to six that eventually pushed them to the next hour with the Beasts from six to seven. How the Mutts wouldn't come after them, likely some kind of barrier keeping them in their sector just like the wave at ten o'clock. Then those awful flowers blooming from seven to eight where they rest now.

It's as she explains it to him that she realizes that the reason her hallucination ended without her being rendered unconscious was because the hour was up. Similar to the sand sinking back down suddenly just when it was about to swallow them whole. He just listens intently as she mentions that right now it's Midnight, the gongs their clue, and as long as they steer clear from whatever sector and hour is active, they're likely safe.

When she's done, she's out of breath, chest heaving. She blinks out at the Arena again as if to clarify her findings once more. Ptolemus can't stop staring at her. Her and her brilliant mind.

Sage glances back to him warily. "Does that make sense?"

Ptolemus just shakes his head at her breathlessly. "You're the smartest person I've ever met."

He leans forward and kisses her deeply, a soft hum of suprise vibrating in the back of her throat. She sinks back into him anyway as the two hold onto one another. He pulls away for a breath, fingers tangled into her dark hair.

A soft smile tugs at his lips in awe. "God, I love you."

A warm blush twinges her cheeks. He kisses her again, and again, and again. The rings burn against his chest, and all he can think about is how badly he wants her to be his wife, and how badly he wants to be her husband. That's his dying wish. To at least die as her husband.