bitterness.

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╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

bitterness

volume one; before

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝


Elora Clarke has never considered herself a selfish woman, but as she gazes upon Coral at the breakfast table she decides she has never been more selfish than she was last night. Spending time with him, stoking the fire, adding fuel to the flame. She has encouraged him to win, to come back to her. Elora can't help but wonder if she will be able to move on with her life after the death of Coral. Everything feels ten times harder than last year, the guilt weighing heavily upon her soul.

"Today, you begin training. This is where you get to build on your skills, prepare not only for the games but for your scoring session in which you will receive a score out of 12".

Finnick's voice fades into the background and she allows him to perform his regular speech. Nine years he's been mentoring now, and counting. Elora is sure he was better in his first year than she will ever be. Finnick has an easy confidence to him, one that nurtures the tributes. Elora lacks his charm, rather giving off waves of anxiety as she sends children to their death. She supposes her nerves are excusable.

She turns to Coral, beginning to offer advice for the day ahead.

"You're strong, and lean, the careers will be looking at you. I want you to show them that you are capable, but keep your greatest strength hidden."

Coral nods her head once, a small smiling gracing her features. Her slender hand slips into Elora's own and she feels the knife in her heart twist. The guilt that had settled in her stomach makes her want to retch. The blood of her victims that coats her hands quickly becomes Corals. She lets the mask slip on, the emotionless facade she is so used to embraces her like an old friend.

Elora grips Corals hand in a squeeze of encouragement and walks her to the elevator.


✯¸.•'*¨'*•✿ ✿•*'¨*'•.¸✯


The hand gripping hers is too tight. It's too small, too smooth, and all Elora can think about is how much she wants this man to stop touching her. Despite that, she beams at him with a smile so brilliant it is a wonder she is not the sun herself. She wears her mask of adoration like a crown as she speaks with the capitol people, each and every word coated with honey. The honey is so thick it drips when she speaks, covers the spaces between her speech where malice can be found. There is so much honey and happiness and warmth that Elora wonders how the capitol people don't see it is fake.

The man before her clutches her hands desperately, his eyes never once leaving hers as she speaks of Coral and the bond they have formed. How badly she wants the young girl to return home so they can live the rest of their days in the capitol together. Elora can't help but glance at her wrist as she speaks the words. When she notices his eyes tearing up she knows he has bought her story, that she has secured yet another sponsor for Coral.

The guilt deepens into her soul and she finds herself unable to escape it. The cloaked being lives in every word she speaks and every space she enters. It lives in Corals sad smile when she catches Elora glancing wistfully at her soulmate. It lives in Cato's heart when he knows that Elora is still fighting for Coral, despite knowing it would mean his death. It lives in that feeling that he is not good enough for her. It dances in her eyes even now, as she excuses herself from the situation to retire to their apartment. Elora knows the guilt will lurk forever. It will follow her, as the blood does, and she will awaken to this darkness in her heart every day that she will live.

In simpler days, when her wrist remained unmarked and the guilt she carried pertained to the tributes she slaughtered, her solace from this guilt was Finnick. They would lay on their bed with their eyes closed and play the sounds of sea water lapping against a boat. She would picture herself back home, curled up with him on their boat, exactly where she belonged.

Now, Elora found that not even Finnick could ease the nightmares. His hair was the wrong shade of blonde, his skin too tanned. As she lay curled up in Finnicks arms, she pictured them belonging to someone else.


✯¸.•'*¨'*•✿ ✿•*'¨*'•.¸✯



Cato waits in his room for Brutus and Enobaria to retire to their rooms. His knee bounces with agitation as the clock slowly ticks over. If Elora has returned to the rooftop, she won't stay there forever. Thoughts of training fill his mind as a way to pass time. He paces the room, and then paces some more.

Cato eventually turns his gaze to the screen wall, currently depicting the capitol streets. He alternates between that and a district two landscape, to make him feel more at home. Unease settles over him as he flicks through the images, catching glimpses into the homes of the other tributes. The beautiful forrest's of district seven and twelve strike a chord in his heart. If he came from a district so beautiful he would want to see it again. The killer in him only thought of the advantages it gave them if the arena turned out to be a forrest.

His heart lurches in his chest when district four settles on the screen. The sun is setting, painting the sky with strokes of colours so vivid he would never have been able to even imagine them. They reflect on the water, dancing across the glittering surface. The sand looks soft, fisherman's boats dragged up onto the shores and moored along jetties. The sun casts its last rays over all it can see.

He can picture Elora there so easily. He sees where her tanned skin comes from and understands why her body is littered with constellations. He doesn't allow his mind to think of all the body he hasn't seen, forcing himself to focus on the scene before him. Elora's home and whole life. He can understand why she loves it so much. As Cato gazes upon the shores of four, he can imagine a life there. A life spent with Elora in his arms.

They will spend the rest of their lives basking in sunglow and soon his skin will be dotted with freckles too. Their home will be filled with the scent of the ocean and sand. He doesn't quite know what it smells like but he imagines it to be fresh and comforting. She will teach him how to swim and catch fish. He imagines a life without the pressure of glory. Just him and Elora and happiness.

When he escapes to the rooftop, Elora is not there waiting for him.

Cato Hadley returns to his district apartment, pictures of a perfect future gone from his mind. When his eyes meet the home of district four a bitterness settles in his heart.

That is her home, that is where Elora belongs, and she doesn't want him to be apart of it.

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