Author Games Compilation [Cycle 1]

Task 2 - A Lover's Burning (VV)

FAMILY COMES FIRST - 2

Oh, how contradictions love to appear in those that don't want them.

Contradictory in itself, or was that irony? Ah, no matter, it would all lead to the same end result, never success, always failure, for one that didn't expect the contradictions didn't have time to come up with something that could ever lead to a victory.

Vita was stuck with contradictions and irony. Maybe a little convenience, but negatives would always overshadow the positives - the latter held few and far between. Upon that little pedestal of hers, with water lapping over her laced up boots, and mist clouding every bit of her vision, she found herself prepared. Because in that moment she knew she'd be getting past the Bloodbath; she'd taught herself to swim, taught herself to climb, taught herself to survive. Blah, blah, blah, yada, yada, yada, the same boring monologue that every "underdog" tribute claimed themselves to be.

She was no different, and telling herself again that what made her diverse was the fact that she was going to win would only match her up further with all those other Careers positioned around her that all thought the same thoughts, that all felt the same feelings. She was indifferent to it all, and that's what differentiated her from the others. When the mist rose, she may have even considered herself excited.

She'd said it before, and she would say it again. "I am no fool," she muttered, her words coming about in a breathy mist that mixed with the fog. No one would even know she spoke; might've deemed her incapable of breathing altogether. After all, she did claim to burn the arena down with her "eternal flame", hadn't she?

Then again, maybe none of them cared. Maybe they were so self-absorbed and focused on their own lives that they failed to take into account her aims and goals and would then, in turn, be underestimating the lengths she would really go to.

But, again, all tributes believed someone was paying attention to their every mood, when in reality, no one gave a fuck.

At least, not until a single flame spurted between the clumps of mist, and suddenly they cared all too much for those they saw at the stake. Through the haze that skipped over the waves, she couldn't tell exactly who was tied up on the one facing her pedestal, but she assumed she'd know the guy. Couldn't be a gal, she rarely associated with the females of her district and the only other woman they could use against her was her mother; she doubted they'd use that trick again. The Games are repetitive, but the Makers know well enough not to do this twice.

The gong rang out and she was off, paddling through the water without a care in the water. She dove beneath the surface, at one point imagining herself as a siren gliding through the water with red scales that only reflected the twenty-six flames back at the panicked children. That's what they were - children. Immaturity still graced their actions, especially those of a little girl paddling far behind her, Annabelle or something. She had years on them, not years counted in time but in experience.

Her finger's brushed a clump of mud and she slowed, digging her fingers into the moist earth and pulling up chunks of it as she pulled herself on land. With a grunt she didn't mean to give - but obviously didn't care that she gave, right? - she stood, wringing out her sopping clothes. A flame was ablaze, burning fiercely beside her, but she took the time to lift a weight off her body before looking up. Her hands went sweeping through her hair, knocking off water, and she glanced up as she did so.

Briefly, her chest tightened. It loosened up as soon as it had come, allowing her to offer a cheeky smile to the boy tied up against the stake. "How's the weather up there?" she called, pulling off a boot and dumping out the water. It landed against the pebbled ground with a slosh and she yanked it back on.