adoration.

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╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

adoration

volume one; before

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝



The catacombs are a dark and dismal place. While they are all in a different location, a different arena, they all look exactly the same. The dark walls leech off any lightness that enters them and Elora is so startled to be thrown back into the place where it all started. She hadn't been down here since her games two years ago, and she secretly hoped she never would again. 

It is uncommon for mentors to be the one who sees their tribute off. That is the job of the stylist, who will be able to provide information based off the final touches of their uniform, and be a kind face at the end of the line. Mentor are too stressful. So focused on giving advice and false hope and guilt that they never allow the tribute the proper time to say goodbye. To say their prayers, to think of their family, to come to terms with the fact that they are about to die.

For Coral, it will be her stylist. The same for Beckett, and many other tributes. Elora hates to think of the fact that she is buried down here in the grief of the capitols latest victors, while Finnick is in their apartment preparing to watch the bloodbath alone. She will view it from a screen in the catacombs before she is carted back to the capitol. She will be down here, all alone, while their blood falls above her. She hopes there are no cracks in the ceiling, her hair has seen enough blood to last a life time. 

The circular structure of the catacombs mean Elora has to walk almost a full rotation before reaching district two's room. The number four looms above her and her heart squeezes tight. So tight she forgets how to breathe. It is so cold down here, so dark, and so familiar. An exact replica of the catacombs she had been brought too. Where she had said goodbye to her parents, to Finnick, to her morality. She had abandoned Elora Clarke from district four and became Elora Clark capitol darling, the cold hearted killer. She had changed so viciously, so violently, from the girl she had been before. 

She is standing in front of his door. 

She cracks the door ajar, barely enough to peer in, to make sure she is in the right room. Cato sits there looking like something out of a dream. His hair so golden and frame so lean. Her skin prickles in anticipation of once again being with him. He is saying goodbye, too. Elora can tell by the way he hangs his head and his hands are clasped together. She is struck by the fact that she really knows nothing about him, other than the fact that he was made for her. Who does he have to say goodbye to? A family, maybe. A best friend. Maybe even more than that, maybe he'd had a lover before he came here, a girlfriend he'd made commitments to. Elora is ashamed of the way her stomach drops at the thought, despite the way she knows that she is his life now. 

His eyes snap to hers the second she enters the room. There is disbelief, there is despair, but there is happiness in his eyes too. She was there with him, and that was all that mattered.

Cato wastes no time collecting her slim frame in his arms. They are pressed together so tightly, so securely, yet all he wants is to be closer. He spends this time together remembering every detail about her. The way her hands tremble where they grasp the edge of his t-shirt. The way her hair smells. The sound of her shaky breath. He can feel the dampness on his shirt before he hears her cry. 

The small sniffle that escapes her breaks his heart even more. He pulls away and cradles her face, his warmth spreading through her cheeks. 

"I'm coming back, okay? Don't cry, please, you're going to see me again. This isn't the end for us."

He watches as she barely manages a nod and small smile. He closes his eyes and relishes in the feeling of their souls intertwined. Since the moment they were bonded, when their hand touched for the first time, he could feel the tether that connected them. He had never known a feeling more pure.

There are five minutes before the games begin.

"Do you have a family back home?"

He smiles at her gently. It was a normal question, for two normal people getting to know each other. It may feel out of place, inappropriate for the little time they had left, but Elora did not want to die without knowing.

"My mother and father are close. I have two younger brothers, one turned twelve this year, the other fifteen. As the oldest I was always expected to volunteer, bring pride to my family. When I win my parents will never have to work again."

Elora smiles at the word when. Not if, but when. 

"What's it like being a victor? I imagine your family is proud of you."

He regrets the question immediately when he sees the furrow of eyebrows, the twitch of her lips. 

"Winning the games means something different where I'm from. We are a simple people, and much of our culture is based on community and kindness. Winning only makes you a murderer. My parents couldn't stand the sight of me when I returned. My two older brothers died in the games before me. I live alone now, but there is always Finnick to keep me company. He has a room at my house and everything."

Cato is confused and Elora forgets that most people see her and Finnick as mere district partners. They are barely even friends in the eye of the capitol, more acquaintances than anything else. She opens her mouth to explain but is interrupted by the speaker system.

There is only one minute remaining.

The pair stand and move their way over to the tube that would carry Cato up in to the arena. Elora has no idea what to say. She doesn't want to say goodbye, doesn't want to believe that this could be it for them. A mere two weeks together, most of which was thrown away as she drowned in guilt. 

"I'll see you soon, okay?"

The words don't feel genuine rolling off her tongue. 

Thirty second until the games begin.

His lips meet hers with the urgency of a man starved. The kiss is not slow and gentle as first kisses should be. It is passionate and desperate and Elora thinks she starts crying. There is so much emotion that it overwhelms her. His lips are softer than she thought they would be. They move against each other and Elora feels like she cannot breathe.

As suddenly as he was there, Cato is gone again. He steps back into the tube with only seconds to spare. Their hands meet once more, separated by the thin piece of glass. She can see him mouthing something but all too soon he is rising into the sky and Elora is choking out sobs. 

I adore you.

His last words to her, if you could even call them that, feel bitter on her tongue as she repeats them back to him. She collapses in on herself when he is too far to see, when he has left her for the confines of the arena that could be his deathbed. She sits there for a while as the screen depicting the countdown flickers to life. Her tears do not dry until the gong sounds and she forces herself to watch. To see the red.

May the odds be ever in their favour. 

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