'Sometimes I wish I died that day. It would have spared me all this trauma.'
In which Calla Forte wishes she wouldn't have made it through her games. A girl who never forgets, faces her worst memories every day.
She can't sleep at night without see...
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——— three ———
She felt like a doll. She looked like one for sure, with her big blue eyes graced by long fake lashes, lips 7 in a deep shade of red and skin that appeared to be dainty porcelain. The girl's hair was set into tight curls and adorned by a crown of silver lilies.
Her gown was blue once again, though this time it was made out of a cold steel blue fabric. On it were drawn shimmering lines that reasembled the railway tracks, indicating her origin. Its sleeves were made off pure silver, giving the illusion of an amour.
All together the victor looked quite good. Sure her attire was nothing that would catch the crowd's attention, but at least Calla felt comfortable. Same couldn't be said for Johanna. Every person in her eyesight could feel her displeasure.
"You look very ..." started Calla, before quickly realising that she had no clue how to finish that sentence. How did Johanna Mason look like in that hideous dress. Without a doubt she was still pretty, but did she look ... treeish? earthy? maybe natural?
Fortunately, the girl didn't have the chance to finish her sentence due to a sparely dressed Finnick Odair making his way over to his two favorite victors. Next to a fishnet he wore only a smug smile, the smile he always wore when around the brunette.
"Johanna Mason looking as lovely as ever," said the young man from 4 charmingly, only to make a big frown find its way upon the victor's face yet again. In a way, Calla was happy that Finnick joined in the conversation since he saved her from Johanna's wrath, which was now directed at him. Not that Johanna Mason could ever be angry with her 'little flower'.
Calla earned that name, after she jokingly called Johanna sunshine. Something that didn't sit too well with the girl who in return figured out a name to annoy the brunette with.
Although, Calla didn't like the nick name, it fit her. After all, she was named after a flower, her mother adored. When she was a little girl, Marisol Terra caught a glimpse of the painting of a calla lily in one of her father's books. To her it was the most beautiful thing she had ever lain eyes on, almost as beautiful as the baby girl she held in her arms twenty years later.
"At least, I'm wearing something," huffed Johanna as she looked at what her friend was wearing. It was no surprise that Finnick had been put in the most revealing outfit. He had been over-sexualised ever since he was sixteen. Almost every week, he would be summoned by another loathsome Capitol Lady.
It didn't matter whether they were beautiful or ugly, smart or stupid, radiant or dull, he gave them what they wanted. It wasn't like he had any other choice in that matter anyway. gYet, all those women shared one thing in common though, they were all utterly disgusting. All were people Calla hoped she would not encounter. People she was glad she did not have to encounter.
