#♡ 𝙵𝙸𝚂𝙷 & 𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙽 ⤷ i did not want this to be a lesson ; i wanted it to be love.

[flownintothesun]

 ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───    𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐬𝐡! @𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐯𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞

                            ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐝 '𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬'... ( @imprvdente )

       𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 that it aches. She’s come to realize that there are no small number of holes — giant recesses of darkness — taking over her heart. She’s seen too much — she’s done too much. If she’s not careful tiptoeing around her desires, she may plummet into the abyss of a Fish-shaped hole — or likewise, one that smells of the sea, or one that sounds like her mother singing songs to her in a language she’s never heard before or since. Nails dig into her hand — seconds pass like hours, and somewhere is a blue-haired lass that captivated all of the Capitol — but not before she’d captivated Marin. Her throat feels dry, and why should it? She’s hidden the truth for so long — so long. It’s the only way to keep the one she loves safe. “...don’t be ridiculous,” she smiles, “We’re only friends. Our hearts belong to you all here at the Capitol.” Their bodies, their souls — what’s the difference in the end?

[flownintothesun]

     𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋, her full lips painted into a smile by the very people who had taken the real one away. She is not an ignorant girl — she has always been acutely aware that the games exist, and that the Capitol is a place to be feared. How could she not be? Each time she’s in one of their homes — in one of their beds — she dares to try and meet the eye of the Avoxes, the people who look different — the people who are not from this strange world. Her mother had been taken when she was very young — young enough that she doesn’t remember anything but her flame-bright hair, and the songs she used to sing. She fiddles with the thistle pendant she keeps on a chain. She’d thought that they’d take it for the games, but they never did. Her mother gives her strength, and she hasn’t lost hope that maybe one day, she can do the same — if not for her mother, than perhaps for someone else beloved to her.

       She had learned a long time ago now that human beings are not human beings unless they were born into the splendor of the Capitol — and how ignorant a thought that one can be worthy only based on the circumstances of their birth. She supposes none of them believe in reincarnation. It could just as easily be them tossed into the hellscape of the arena. Instead, they want her to think she’s lucky that she survived. That they’re lucky because they survived. What are the odds, after all, for both to be chosen, and both to emerge victorious? If she has to hear ‘clearly the odds are in District Four’s favor’ one more time, she thinks she might scream. A siren, indeed.

       And maybe she is lucky — if luck means the so-called privilege of returning to Four when she’s not summoned to parties and tours and operas, or loaded onto a train with another scared child who will almost certainly die. Fish doesn’t have that sort of tentative peace. They call her a mermaid because of the way she’d killed — because of the way she’d used the water to her advantage. Because things that are other — mermaids and sirens — are dangerous because they’re unknown. Nevermind that Fish had been called a mermaid in District 4 not because she was violent — but because she spent more time in the water than not — because the nature of the water itself had become part of her. The Capitol takes beautiful things and destroys them. Every time. If only President Snow was an empty-headed man....she would never ask Fish to kill under normal circumstances. But nothing about this is normal.

       If Snow was dead, where would they be anyway? A scramble to the top, and a reminder that the odds are never in their favor, a punishment just for good measure? Can you kill someone twice? Everyone knows they’re already dead. And anyway, what good does it do to cut off the head of the dragon when another will take its place? “You can only be so careful. Even the best swimmers get tired eventually — and the waves show mercy to no one.” Maybe it sounds like a threat. It isn’t. God, she doesn’t know how to act around Fish. She can put on a show for anyone who wants to see it — why is Fish the exception? Why is she always the exception? “You’re a strong swimmer. I just — “ Wish I would have told you? Wish things were different? Wish none of this had ever happened? Wish there was an end to it? “ — wish we were home.”

Nothing was the same anymore, Marin was right. The happy girl from 4 was dead, she had died in that arena. Fish was just what was left. Fish missed her, that version of herself who always had wet hair, tangled with salt. She missed walking in the sand, she missed the strong iodine scent at the port, she missed the sweat trickling down her back while she danced at the Poseidon. She had traded all that for sparkly gowns and a golden cage.

"You're not my mentor, but you'll always be my friend," replied Fish, and the words -nice, sweet, meant to please- dripped from her mouth with such ease it made her a little bit sad.

She missed Marin, too. The simplicity of what they used to have together. Playing in the waves like naiads, laughing as they climbed the highest rocks they could find. Being young and happy. How nice was that?

Maybe she was looking at her memories through pink-colored glass, but thus was the nature of nostalgia. Because now they could never be these kids again. Now they were the siren and the mermaid. Capitol's playthings.

Naivety had been ripped from Fish's hands at her victory party, in the arms of a man who smelled like vanilla, with bright pink hair and a face that looked like it was made of wax. She didn't remember his name, she just remembered his question. How much, he had asked. How much. She remembered her tears in the rose garden, and then the man was never seen at a Capitol party ever again. How ironic, to be kept safe by the most dangerous man here.

But she knew Marin was not so lucky. She was pretty, she was too pretty to be left alone by the Capitol's hunger. Which men had asked her the same question? She wanted to find them, she wanted to kill them. The thought kept her awake at night. A tribute would always be a tribute, and violence would always silently be breathing under her skin.

Sometimes, she was afraid Marin resented her. Why else had she been so distant, lately? And why shouldn't she resent her? Everyone else did.

"I know," she exhaled. A crack in the perfect mask, a flicker in her eyes. Exhaustion. Perhaps it was Marin's hand, so soft against her skin, that had managed to create a tremor in her pretty varnish. "We never left the arena."

We never will.

There were many things Fish wanted to tell Marin. She wanted to tell her that perhaps, she could keep her safe. Perhaps she could beg the President to let Marin be unscathed by the hands of men. But the words kept getting stuck in her throat.

"I'm careful, Marin." A chuckle, and the mask was back on. Liar. How could she be careful, when being held by the most unstable, paranoid man in Panem? "And really, I'm lucky. I get to host the Games, and it's so much fun, you know." So many lies. But walls had ears around here.

[flownintothesun]

 ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───    “𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨’𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭.” 𝐅𝐢𝐬𝐡 @ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧, @𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐯𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞

                            ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬. ( @imprvdente )

       𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐈𝐓 — she knew it before the world had decided who they were without giving them a choice in the matter. She’s had so many choices stripped away from her now that she can scarcely remember what it is to do something of her volition. Fish is her freedom — her saltwater lass from home, from before — when things weren’t good but they were better than they are now, anyway. Fish is also her demise — the scandal it would cause. It isn’t exactly that the fact that they’re both women would be looked down upon in the Capitol — that kind of thing is normal here. It’s just that they don’t belong to themselves. It’s just that the Capitol owns them.

       Of course she knows it. Of course she does. It’s just — she had hoped that maybe Fish wouldn’t. She had, after all, gotten away with it for so many years — secrets that are dead and gone, moments that are long past — uncertainty that they can ever have anything that belongs to them again when they are nothing but property themselves. Her crime for killing a man was that they kill her over and over again every day. Her body didn’t die in the arena — but her soul — it never really came back right, an she loses a little more of it every time.

       No one would suspect she and Fish. They’re expected to be friendly toward one another — and the citizens of the Capitol love it — the siren and the mermaid. Even the President suspects nothing — if he did, Marin wouldn’t be here, helping Fish zip the back of her dress with her own cheeks flushed such a shade of crimson that it’s traveled down her neck and across the top of her chest as well. Maybe her touch had lingered a little too long — maybe she’s gotten too bold. What do you do with all of your fear and your anger and your power when it consumes you, when it’s forced to be stoppered in a bottle? When you want so badly to touch something — anything —  to call it yours — that the thing you end up touching is the one thing you shouldn’t? The one thing that could ruin you both. “Fish — I — “ her voice is melodic and low, somehow defeated, and yet ever hopeful. Her mother’s brazen heart got her taken away — and Marin’s down the same path —

      Marin slides her hands along her girl’s waist before wrapping her arms around her from behind, dragging her in. If she tries hard enough, she can pretend that she still smells of sea and sand. Eyes close, lashes fluttering like helpless butterfly wings against her cheeks as she brings her head to rest against the girl who has always been her treasure — who Snow has stolen from her. She presses a gentle kiss to one shoulder, only to wipe away lipstick with her tongue. “We can’t — he’ll kill us both.” Just friends is safer, in the end — and if Marin is eventually going to go down anyway like her mother — the least she can do is spare the girl she loves the same fate.