“So,” Pommel nudges me softly in the chin with his fist, “You and Quent, eh? Would you … care to explain yourself, missy?” I don’t know why I wasn’t anticipating having this conversation with Pommel. It was probably because I was expecting him to be occupied with Jaeda; instead Cathal freed him of that task. But other than that, the conversation topic of Wren’s Love Life was completely off my table. Because I’m such a slow person, this came out of left field.
I chuckle softly, hoping he figures out this isn’t a subject I don’t and possibly never want to discuss. I look at him, hoping he was just kidding. And like usual, I’m wrong. His eyebrows are raised and his ears are ready to catch the words he hopes I let slip from my tongue. I stare ahead of us, realizing we’ve significantly fallen behind the group. I can just make out the blonde braid of Miss. Primrose Everdeen. I sigh, “There’s really not much to explain.”
Pommel smiles, knowing I’m hiding something. He just doesn’t know what I’m hiding, and I so badly want to tell him. Unfortunately, the place and time is not ideal. “Bullshit,” he calls out, and the group turns to see what’s going on. I look at Pommel the same way, putting him on the spot. “Err, there was … cow poop here,” Pommel manages to stutter out. The others turn around slowly, utterly confused and humoured, and continue walking to the beach.
“Good cover,” I comment on his poor effort. “You know, for a second there, I think Primrose almost believed you,” I joke, as both of us know Primrose is not one to be gullible.
He punches me in the shoulder jokingly, a little too hard for my liking, and messes up my hair. Only after tying my hair into a ponytail does Pommel continue the conversation I dread. “Come on,” he presses on, “Everyone knows love in the arena is quite a big deal. Television or reality, acting or impulse, you and I both know it leads to something.”
“Love?” I look at him. I’m not sure if I meant it as a question, but it comes out sarcastically.
“Yes,” Pommel answers brightly. I stare at him more, surprised with his interest in relationships and romance. Even though we had an engaging exchange of words after training, I still don’t know much about him. I guess things like the fairytales and romance seemed so little in his eyes, or perhaps so mortifying he didn’t have the courage to tell anyone. “Why? Have you not reached that level in your relationship, or have you exceeded it?” Pommel says ‘exceeded’ so creepily, I cringe my face at the thought of him being a pervert.
I play with my knives for a moment; thinking up an answer that would be suitable for both Quent and I. Quent seems to be more ahead of me in our ‘relationship’. I’m not even at the stage of calling it a relationship. “I’m not sure what level he would say we are on but–”
“Not sure? Not sure? Not sure,” Pommel cuts in, mimicking my voice. “I think it’s quite obvious you have chemistry with Quent. And he made a real point of that just moments ago.”
“Yes, but I’m not sure his feelings for me are as genuine as I would like to think,” I admit. Pommel looks at me for a moment, questioning the words that just came out of my mouth. We stop before pushing through a curtain of vines and I end up telling Pommel everything. And when I say everything, I mean everything. Every single detail of that conversation I had hours ago, I share it with Pommel – and the whole of Panem, well it’s more like a recap for them. “At first, I thought he was bluffing, but he assured me that he was serious about it. So, what do you think I should do?” I ask Pommel, hopelessly.
We stand there for a moment, thinking about Quent, thinking about Jaeda. “I think,” Pommel starts then stops. He taps his chin with his sword, and then wipes the sweat from his forehead. “I think,” he starts again, “It’s the least of your worries right now.” Before I can say anything, he shushes me and continues. “Look, only you, Jaeda and I in the group know who killed Rion. And as long as neither of us say anything, we’ll be fine. But we need to focus on the plan for now, that shit can come later.” I open my mouth to respond, but instead I nod. The plan. I almost forgot about it.
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Final Reality (THG Fanfic)
FanfictionTHIS IS AN ALTERNATE 3RD QUARTER QUELL She believes that she is worthless. That her life does not have a sole purpose. But no. 18-year-old Wren Ivory is not contemplating suicide. She is plotting against the Capitol's pleasures, breaking every rule...
