.Stone And Lumber (Johanna Mason X F.OC).

-Fight-

(Oh my sweet summer children, you think I am done with Athena? What you just saw are number 2 and 3 of the worst things I planned for her yes..... But I have yet to show you number 1..... These next two chapters might be longer, or shorter, idk honestly but I wanna get the Capitol portion over soon so you know, more to cram in one chapter.)

Athena.

Mutt.

What did it matter anymore?

No one was waiting for her, they killed them.

They took those she had left outside and how many had they killed and not shown her? She didn't care.

And yet still.

"I don't know." She said, looking up at the ceiling, a void instead of her heart, uncaring that the old guard was mistreating her fractured hand, probably breaking it again? She couldn't exactly feel it. She just felt the shock on the stomp go through it.

"Where are they?!!! Where are the rebels!!!" Alarms were actually sounding since he was never meant to take it too such extremes, was it his boot cracking under that stomp or a bone? She didn't know.

"I don't know."

The idiot, he had tried the other hand, he had kicked her head, stomped on an ankle, getting more and more mad that she was not reacting.

Getting even more mad as other guards were brought in to actually drag him away and pull, more like drag, her too her feet, a victor meant to show up on TV with disfigurement? How nasty would it be.

Plus the Capitol were not supposed to be brutes, seeing such a state for a victor? Unthinkable.

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"Cut them off, they'd look better that way." She carelessly had told them all but none cared for a word from her, her hands fitting more a cadaver then a living person but it didn't matter did it? Nothing did.

"She can't appear like that." The still heavily crippled Cinna (I need him alive, rejoice.) that walked with crutches that was tasked with creating an outfit for her.

"You will figure something out or you will be killed, you are so lucky that Tirgress has left or we wouldn't need a stylist like you traitor."

He sighed, looking at the puppet of a girl, getting back on with his job.

"Come on, cooperate."

"What for?" Tired, eyes so tired, hollow and sunken, soon not even the pampered on makeup would be able to hide how little they fed each victor or if they fed them at all. "I have no choice."

"There always is a choice in life." Cinna carefully measured the circumference of her wrist, he was actually surprised her hands hadn't just fallen off or anything, that guard's anger and what he heard of the whispered, what she did too herself, just leaving them a mess of blotched surgeries and bleeds it seemed. "You either accept the hand you are dealt with or fight."

"There is no god reason in fighting."

"Is there not? You want to die a martyr? Someone to pity? Or fight the odds and triumph?"

"Triumph? There is no use for that."

"Is there not? Some people are still waiting for you to go home."

"Everyone home is dead."

"And will you let their memories rot? If you give up, no one will stay to remember them, forgotten in the rot and dust left on a battlefield... Grief never leaves, you just live with it, you survive, but if you give up, not even that can persist and their story ends with you."