AN: this is the last response of the roleplay right now, keep in mind that as I am posting this we are still writing it, so please be patient yeah? not that anyone is reading this besides Cato. xD
“I’m still not your chamber maid, or your wife Mars. Besides, even if I was an Avox and I had to clean up after you I’d probably stab myself.” She finished scratching miserably at her wrists that had begun to chafe because of her constantly tug and pull against them. She didn’t even look down when her finger nails began to draw blood, and it took an elbow in the ribcage from Cato for her to look down long enough to notice that her forearm was now streaked with blood.
Enobaria smiled at her forearm, and if she didn’t know better she would have said that she licked her lips at the sight of her blood. Clove reached into Cato’s left trouser pocket, and the escort squealed in protest.
“Hold your horses, I just need his cloth, since I don’t have my fucking jacket anymore thanks to you.” She tugged out the small square of fabric that most careers carried in their pockets to aid in wiping off the blood from their enemies from their swords and she compressed the cloth over her skin to try to stop the bleeding.
Clove nearly toppled forward when Cato slapped her back, and she followed his gaze to the hallway. She knew two of the people who appeared to be sculpted out of marble, Aeliana and Mr Mars, and she guessed that the other two fair haired boys were his brothers. His mother’s knees were nearly knocking together, looking around the room and her gaze landed on Clove for a few seconds. Her heart kicked itself into an uncomfortable rhythm, and she absent mindedly tucked herself out of the way of Mrs Mars’ gaze. She didn’t want to have to look at his mother, knowing she was probably going to have to kill her son.
“It’s amazing what people will look at. A desperate little girl wallowing in self-pity…” her father muttered to himself, scratching at his beer belly with a gnarled finger. “Is that so? And what do they see when they look at you? A pathetic booze hound with nothing but the fact that he likes to molest young girls?!” She spat back at him, her anger bubbling over and seething out of every pore.
His eyes flashed dangerously at her, and he lunged forwards, circling both his arms as if to grab her in a bear hug and squeeze, completely disarming her from any sort of response. But she was too quick for him, she quickly dove down, shoving her shoulder forwards into his shins and rolling expertly, knocking him forward onto his face. She shoulder rolled out of the way, hopping back up on her feet and delivering a swift kick to his fat ass to knock him on his face. With a thump, he landed on the ground, and she spat at him again with a satisfactory whoop.
Six peacekeepers emerged from the hallway, starting to walk to her to hold her back.
Get your shit together.
Cato’s voice echoed around in her head, so crystal clear that she could have sworn he was standing right behind her. She half-jumped, turning to check over her shoulder to look at a glass door, where a woman with wild, crazy blue eyes was staring right at her.
Enobaria cleared her throat, jerking her head towards her father who was sputtering on all fours, and the Peacekeepers quickly helped him up and frog-marched him down the hallway. Enobaria touched Clove’s shoulder gently, and with a startled yelp Clove realized that she wasn’t looking at a glass door, but at a mirror.
Right before her eyes, she snapped from a selfish sixteen year old girl who had nothing in her life to a woman who was literally walking to her death. She watched the reflection of Enobaria grab her arm and she began pulling her down the hallway.
“you’re an interesting one, that’s for sure.” She mused aloud, shoving her in line with a dishevelled looking Cato.
“You alright?” she asked, and Cato just looked right past her to the tons of photographers, happily snapping pictures of two shell shocked teenagers, blinking and rubbing their eyes as they tried to make their way through the crowd.
They walked down the rest of the stone pathway, to the Capitol’s escort cars, almost like extremely lavishly decorated limousines, inside and out. Cato and Clove approached the car, and she caught another glimpse at the woman with wide, bright blue eyes. For the first time in her life, as she sat beside Cato in the back of the limo listening to their escort happily chatter away, she was more terrified of her future than she was of her past. She watched Cato bounce his knees, a nervous tick that she had noted long ago that he did to keep his mind off of things.
She was as good as dead.
