𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐒𝐊𝐔𝐋𝐋 ──
❛ they all said they do
not cower before death,
but when the reaper, the
personification of death
visited their souls, they
always kneeled, praying
and begging for time. ❜
· . ° ✎
the hunger games began in
xvi . iii . m...
Most did so out of fear, others out of obligation.
Coile Curio marched behind the Barone siblings, his hands on their backs, pushing them forward. The mentors and the stylist followed in tow. His forehead crinkled as he muttered incomprehensible words under his breath, making the man seem like an insane asylum patient. The grey of his hair turned silver, glinting in old age and stress. Sweat had gathered on the nape of his neck, underneath his vibrant robes, on his scalp. His mind was no longer sound and anyone with eyes could spot that relatively easily.
"Go, go, go," he repeatedly hit their backs.
Iolite Barone hastened her pace, catching up to the man and coaxing his hands from her children. She turned towards the rest, both before and behind her, and cocked her head far into the corridor, telling them to go ahead wordlessly. Although the woman was cold, she had a heart that reached out to others.
"Hey, it's going to be fine," she tenderly told Coile as she patted his hands.
Looking into the mentor's soul, he recoiled and slapped her gentle hands away. He frowned deeply, laughing maniacally, "Of course you'd say that! You'd like that, wouldn't you? The tributes holding hands, oh, so great. No. No, it's not. What happened back there's gonna ruin everything for me. The Rebe—"
He slapped his mouth, frantically scouring every inch of the hallway. "No. They'll kill me. I shouldn't have even said that. They'll come after me, Iolite, they will. What do I do? What do I do? I don't want to die!" he ranted, his honey-brown skin turning stark white, eyes widening in fright.
He whimpered and shook, stiffening when a sharp sting hit his cheek and red bloomed like flowering tulips.
Iolite Barone's eyes were hard, her scarlet lips dragged downwards as she scowled. "Snap out of it," she spat.
The woman stepped menacingly forward, her height towering over the man, glowering down at him. He whimpered yet again. Shoulders caving in, his necks trained downwards painfully, spinelessly, in a pitiful manner. "If you feel this way right now, a Capitolian cowering under Snow's dictatorship, how do you think the people of the Districts feel?"
