ＷＩＴＳ | ＭＡＲＶＥＬ ＨＵＮＧＥＲ ＧＡＭＥＳ ✅

ｓｉｘ

All Rybbon can do is watch the scenery pass by her, the Capitol in her line of sight, miles upon miles away. She sees the tall, white skyscrapers trying to reach as far they can. But even with that in view, her eyes can only admire how blue the sky is.

"Never seen that before." She looks over her shoulder, watching as Chase moves to sit down beside her. She turns her head back to the large window, letting her chin rest on her folded arms. "Has the sky always been that blue?"

"I guess so," she responds after a moment, eyeing the small puffs of white in the sky. "What are those?" she points out. She feels the couch move beneath her until his arms rub against hers, the boy trying to get a better view of what she's talking about.

"I read in a book that that's called a cloud. There are ten types. That one's supposed to be a Cumulus, I think." Rybbon hums in acknowledgment.

"What color blue would you call that?" she wonders aloud. She feels him look at her, but continues talking anyway. "I've never seen anything like it. It's so...light." She hears him chuckle, making her turn her head towards him finally. "What?"

"Just find it funny how we're supposed to be one of the smartest districts but have never seen the sky that shade of blue before."

"We haven't seen a lot despite our intelligence," she clarifies. "I mean—the amount of food on that table we have never seen before. I didn't know there was any type of meat other than jerky." He laughs once more, nodding his head in agreement. After a moment it becomes quiet, though, neither looking away for some reason. For Rybbon, it was because she noticed how bright his eyes were despite their deep shade of brown. Even though they will most likely die, he still seems to have hope. For Chase, however, he sees the complete opposite. He noticed how dead her eyes were despite how bright of a shade of blue they were. He remembers her from grade school, and how optimistic she used to be. How he wished she was like that again. "Um-" she clears her throat, turning her eyes back to the sky. Chase takes a moment to do the same, watching the blush bring color to her pale skin. "What should we name the color?"

  "...Blue?"  He watches as she rolls her eyes, a scoff escaping her lips.

"There has to be a descriptive term before it. Like how we use light grey and dark grey."

"How about pastel blue?"

"Do you even know what pastel is?"

"I read it in a book." She sighs softly, shaking her head at his response.

"You suck at naming things." A light laugh passes her lips while a deep one leaves his, the boy rolling his eyes at her. "If you have a hard time naming the sky, I fear what you would name your child."

"That hurts," he teases, nudging Rye with his arm. She turns in her seat to face her body to him, a smile on her lips.

"If it's some silly ass name like—like Harold—you will feel my wrath," she promises, waving a finger in his face.

"What wrong with Harold?"

"That's our teacher's name!!" she exclaims, pushing him. It doesn't do much, the boy barely moving from his spot. "Mr. Harold Millet. He was so rude!" she says, shaking her head at him.

"I didn't think you knew we had the same class."

"You were two years younger than our entire classroom and was given a proper introduction the first day of school," she deadpans, watching his face contort in embarrassment. "I think I'd remember you, Chase," she smiles softly, rolling her eyes at the redness in his face. "I know your sister, anyhow." His eyes meet hers with that sentence. "Moni Nelson? My brother is a friend of hers."