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SONG SUGGESTION:The End of All Things by Panic! At the Disco
Shuffling around the woman's house a little bit longer, Greyson found herself numbly standing in front of a dead vase of flowers, the petals rusted and decayed, the once precious and luscious life extracted from their stems, leaving nothing but death. Greyson was thankful there weren't any roses, but she couldn't help but count how many there were and compare them to how many people she's lost in the consequence of her actions. Too many, she thought.
The small group gathered in the living room, some slumped against the plush couches, inspecting their wounds. Greyson sat on the arm of a white and gold recliner, looking down at her forearm to make sure the scrape she had gotten from trying to pull Messalla out of a hole in the side of building wasn't infected. From all the movement she had been doing, dried blood encrusted around the bandage, the center of the bandage slightly damp.
"How long do you think we have before they figure out some of us could've survived?" Katniss asked.
"I think they could be here anytime," Gale answered. "They knew we were heading for the streets. Probably the explosion will throw them for a few minutes, then they'll start looking for our exit point."
Greyson followed Katniss to the window she stood at, getting a glimpse of where they stood in the Capitol. A colorful array of people shuffled down the street, bundled together from the cold weather that had fallen over the city. There were no peacekeepers, but she knew they would be arriving soon.
Cressida stood beside the two girls, her face drained of color. Greyson found herself looking at everyone on their team. Gale's neck was still losing blood from his neck wound that wasn't even cleaned yet. Peeta was seated on one of the velvet couches, his teeth clamped down on a pillow as though he was holding back a scream. Pollux had his head pressed against his arm that leaned against the mantel of a decorative fireplace, his muffled cries paining the ears of those who listened in. Greyson then found Finnick, the person who kept her steady, also crying silently in the corner of the room, sitting on a small couch made for two.
She turned her attention onto Katniss, the flame that led her on, the one person whose fire matched the storm brewing inside of her. Katniss' eyes met her's. "We're in no condition to go on a stealth mission," Greyson murmured.
Katniss nodded in agreement, turning to Cressida. "Do you know where we are?"
Cressida glanced out the window, nodding, "only a few blocks away from the President's mansion."
Greyson's blood ran cold at the thought of being so close to such a murderous man. At that point, anger was the only thing that fueled her, without it, she was nothing.
