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love always finds a way, it's true.
ALL I WANT. gale hawthorne―catching fire & mockingjay
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someday you'll be everything to someone
YOU COULD PAINT A PORTRAIT OF HER BEAUTY― but you could never see the tears that flood the inside of her soul. You could give her all the jewels in the world, the richest of clothes and the luxurious of lifestyles, but you could never see the invisible splatters of blood that mark the softest of silk gloves the blood of the innocent. Ophelia Starvok was more than a beautiful face to the Capitol, she was a victor . . .
. . . and a killer. Coming from District Two, she was already considered lethal enough as it was. And winning the 73rd Hunger Games at the age of seventeen had just that. Everyone knows that children in District Two are raised with a warrior mindset to become Peacekeepers but that very same drive beckons them to the call to volunteer in the games. And Ophelia did just that.
Her final days spent in the arena, with tears stained on her fair skin as Ophelia would let out the battle cry that would be known to the whole Capitol as she killed anyone that stood in her path, taking their weapon as her own as a token to remind her of the fallen. With each weapon, she learned to wield, until she remained with the weapons of each tribute, on the ground sobbing.
A shattered compact mirror by her side reflecting the tears that streamed down her face. The very gift from a sponsor had been the way she survived the games. Vanity was in her favour, only her soul was shattered as she left the arena that day. Even the beautiful needed to weep.
