Cassandia Holomek||16||D12
It's not about living—
it's about s u r v i v i n g.
Stats:
Weapons: Knives, speed, intel
Training Score: 8/12 C A P I T O L
"I-I know, but we didn’t have a lot of supplies, and I wanted to help, at least a little." Shaking, Bellamy backed still farther away. The other girl didn’t seem to threatening, but you could never be sure. Maybe she was a good actress. "You’re not? I thought…"
"Don't--" Cassandia didn't want to think of Zahara, or anything else akin to it. "Fine," she said with a huff that was disguised as laughter. "I'll go." Cassandia nodded once, and turned, pausing before leaving the area-- "You really can't sneak off of them, they'll get worried or somethin' like that. Might not think you're fuckin' dead since maybe there might not be a cannon-- but they could think you're close to it."
At the sight of the other girl, Bellamy backed up a few steps. She recognized her from the training center, but wasn’t sure whether to trust her or not. “N-no. I do, but they went out to look for supplies and I couldn’t stand waiting for them by myself. I shouldn’t have. Please, I-i don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Cassandia wasn't sure if the girl was telling the truth, but it wasn't her place to question. "Should've probably stayed put, yeah," she said sardoncially, wiping her own nose and sighing. "M'not gunna hurt you," Cassandia said in a deadpanned voice. "You should be getting back, they're gunna be worried if you aren't there."
Bellamy snuck through the woods, trying to find food. She picked her way carefully across the snow, trying to be silent, but at the sound of a twig snapping behind her, the small girl whirled around, her eyes wide in fright.
Cassandia muttered to herself under her breath when the twig snapped. God-fucking-damn-it, she hissed, her own head jerking up quickly, seeing the body of a girl-- three, she thought. Cassandia had nothing to say, so she gave the girl a sympathetic look as she tried to search for something to tell her. "No allies?" She asked in confusion.
The Hanging Tree (Mockingjay) - acapella cover by Paola Bennet ★
I’ve been asked and meaning to cover this for a while — in my head I heard it with such a Southern Gothic vibe that I just took it there. Really is best with headphones for the harmonies. Listen, share, come to the tree. xo
"Obscenities are a clear sign of barbarism, Ms. Holomek. The nation is watching after all, perhaps you should be setting a better example for the children back home." This reply came in Cassandia’s utterance of the word "fuck." It was funny to think that Garnet was bothered by the girl’s cursing more than anything else. At this point, he was probably high as a kite, but that was probably for the best. When he was strung up he was at least a bit more mellow than usual.
From the moment he read her body language he knew she would bolt, but he allowed her to get up and proceed with all the predictable reactions and gestures. For a second he had sincerely hoped she’d come clean and surrender easily, but perhaps he had overestimated her sense of reason.
A few seconds after Cassandia had sprinted off, Garnet was hot at her heels, his feet beating hard into the snowy soil as he huffed from his nose in mild fury. He was bigger, therefore much less nimble than she was. But just as it would’ve seemed she had the upper hand, Garnet disappeared, sidetracking through the dense trees and underbrush. The fact of the matter was that he had spent hours circling this part of the woods the night before in search of Cassandia when he was still following her trail. He was somewhat familiar with this area now, and knew the twists and turns the paths they were traveling through would take. He remained mostly hidden from Cassandia’s view as he continued to chase her down. Then soon, when it almost seemed like she had lost him, Garnet waited for her to take another turn. Then…all at once…he burst out from within the trees, tackling the girl from the side and picking her up off the ground, running her straight against one of the larger pine trees and pinning her to it. His face was inches away from hers as he held her up against the bark.
When he disappeared, instead of being happy, she was worried. Cassandia could already see how it would all end, and she did not like it. Cassandia was more of a fan of her insides staying within the confines of her skin, and Garnet seemed to share the same ideas as the rest of the Career Posse-- though, eerily, Devon seemed to be the queen of it all and the most poised. Cassandia figured she'd ratner Garnet be after her than Devon-- she was terrifying.
She was suddenly slammed into and pinned to a tree, but it wasn't the first time something like that had happened. Though she was losing her breath quickly, Cassandia acted faster. She slammed the heel of her palm into his chin and wriggled out of his hold, once again dropping to the ground and setting off for another sprint-- not forgetting Zahara's spear.
A few short moments after the girl from District 12 began to walk away from her tree, she’d feel a rough, cold hand grab her by the back of the neck. Garnet yanked her back and tossed her through the air, turning around to watch her tumble in the snow and give the girl a moment to stand again. He reached for the rolled up cigarette between his lips, taking a hit and holding it for some time before serenely releasing a a few rings of soft smoke from the back of his throat.
Garnet hadn’t wasted much time after the bloodbath in tracking down the girl who had killed Zahara. Out of all the people to be killed on the first day, Zahara wasn’t who anyone had expected to die. She was prepared, she had the desire to kill, she had obtained the highest training score next to Garnet’s, and she was a formidable fighter. Her death at the hands of a outlier from District 12 of all places came as quite a surprise.
He recalled back during the meeting how excited Zahara had been at the prospect of killing this girl. That was her mistake. She had made a dark horse of this girl. And it was a mistake which now fell on Garnet’s shoulder to be rectified. It was only correct for him to set out and find Zahara’s killer, restoring the career pack’s honor before it was too late.
Now he stood here before the troublemaker. Cassandia Holomek, District 12. She didn’t seem like much to Garnet, but this was definitely the one. He vaguely remembered her from back during their time in the tribute center…her attitude was probably one of her greatest features. Cassandia was clever though, he’d give her that. He had tracked her easily enough for a little less than a kilometer before nearly losing her completely…she was covering her tracks. For some time, Garnet searched around on pure speculation alone. It was almost by complete luck that he found her later that evening sleeping on one of the larger trees. From then it was a simple matter of staking out the tree.
Garnet slowly slipped off and tossed aside his gloves, cracking his knuckles as Cassandia was still moving in the snow. The cigarette jerked back and forth between his teeth as he spoke.
"My apologies, Ms. Holomek." He had made a point of learning all the tributes’ names. "But I would’ve been more of a gentleman if you had been more of a lady. Now, a word of advice: don’t run…you’ll only die tired."
As she was yanked back, she quickly ran through all the things she'd ever done wrong in her life, trying to reason with an imaginary force-- she didn't have to die-- she could turn things around. Volunteer at the orphanage, give money to the poor folks (if she'd won, that was a plan anyway,)-- but, her thoughts scattered while the wind was knocked out of her as her body slammed onto the snow. At that point, it did not feel soft. The force made it so the snow felt like concrete as she rolled over, trying desperately to regain her strength and breath.
She was on all fours when she heard a voice coming from before her. Slowly, Cassandia looked up and saw Garnet. "Fucking--" hell, she thought. Got rid of one psycho, get attacked by another. And this fucker was smoking a leaf-- this entire thing was almost laughable.
Cassandia let out a chuckle and she shook her head. There was no way she was going to stay and let him kill her. She wasn't going to die without trying to escape. Cassandia licked her lips, got herself up, and flipped off Garnet. "Sit and spin, asshole," she said, turning and quickly falling into a sprint.
The night, in more ways than one, had been rough. Still, she hadn't met with anyone who would help her-- though she didn't really take that as bad. There were twenty three other people in the arena, all presumably ready to kill-- and really, she hadn't made many friends when she was in the Tribute Center. She was going to die and no one was going to mourn her, she thought.
As she trekked through the forest, she covered her tracks, holding a branch behind her in one hand, the other still putting pressure on her ear-- just in case. Damn the trees-- they were all nearly useless to her. The branches weren't thick, it would be hard to climb their trunks-- but as the sun fell and she heard the inhuman howls, she figured: "Worth a fuckin' shot."
She'd found a large tree, and dismantled the pack as quickly as she could. Cassandia paid little attention to anything-- she wanted a sleeping bag, please, let there be a, "Oh thank fuck," she muttered through cracked lips. Cassandia repacked everything spent the night in the trees, thanking whatever deity was watching, not that she believed in one, for her being so light.
When morning came, she dropped down very unceremoniously, carefully landing in a way that she wouldn't hurt herself. With the spear still in-hand, she began to walk-- trying to put as much distance between herself, and those who were once Zahara's 'friends'.
"Would you rather me be mopey and depressing?" he asked. This time with Cass wasn’t only his way of attempting to gain leverage, but a way to soothe his own anxieties. He was never one to sulk in dread, he had his own way of coping with things; running, humor…all a mask, but an effective one, at least that’s what he told himself.
He climbed back onto his train of thought: if this was the Arena, and they were this close…a fist full of sand to the eye, her hair would be easy to grab…you don’t always need a weapon to pull through in the Games. Improvisation, being quick on your feet and mind, all just as deadly as any blade or poison.
"Well," he chuckled, "the point would be here." he said pointing to the top of the lumpy mound of sand. He let himself ease back slightly in the sand, his gaze wandering the "ghost town" again. "So why’d ya come all the way down here so late at night?" he looked back to Cass, "Why not the roof?"
Cassandia rolled her eyes at the joke, letting out more of a huff than a laugh-- "Puns. We've regressed this much," she deadpanned. Cassandia pursed her lips and watched him carefully, unsure of what to answer. She wanted different surroundings-- the apartments felt so fake, so carefully constructed-- and although the Training Room didn't make her feel much more at ease, at least what you saw was what you got. It was a room full of locked-away weapons, everything in its place-- there had to be order everywhere, it seemed, so that the Capitol could feel as if it were in control.
She almost laughed.
Looking back to Jasper, she shrugged. "I wanted some quiet," it was an easy explanation, and not exactly a lie, though she was skilled at weaving them. Once more, she shrugged, fixing her shirt subconsciously as she continued. "Guess a run or somethin'? I dunno-- anything to, like..." For a moment, she paused, "I guess make my body busy for a little. Make it easier to sleep?" An innocent remark, really. The only ones who would be sleeping well that night, Cassandia assumed, were the Careers, whose fingers were just itching to kill and grab the glory that was winning the Hunger Games.
"I know I am, you’re damn lucky to have me.” He held his breath for a moment but failed to keep in his laughter. “Pfft, would you even reach?” The laugh died down to a chuckle”Wanna find out? Let’s find out.” He motioned to throw her- straight in the hair but her grip on him suddenly got tighter, “Bad timing for this dontcha think?”
The short joke struck a chord with Cassandia and her laughter died for a few moments. "Shove it," she muttered, narrowing her eyes though Ace could not see them. "No-- no no no NO!" Her voice turned into a squeal, and she held onto his shirt very tightly-- "Don't do it, don't fuckin' do it!"
Ace kept his grip on her, almost dropping her as he laughed. “It’s my fuckin duty, to do what’s best for you.” She was lucky they were in the training room of all rooms, there was nothing worth putting her in there. “Maybe do something about that damn fucking potty mouth of yours,” he said, almost mimicking their escort.
Cassandia's laughter filled the empty room as Ace imitated Callista-- "Oh God-- you're too fuckin' good," she huffed, trying to get back some breath. "I swear to god, Ace, if you do anything-- anything right now, I'm gunna kick your ass." She was awaiting the drop, being thrown-- she knew Ace and her could roughhouse until the end of the century.
"Psh, yea lemme pass ya a knife while I’m at it." Jasper winked at her as he continued back stepping, picking up his speed to maintain his distance. "In the Arena, ya ain’t gonna want to take your sweet ass time." But here, in the hours before the Arena, he knew he could. These last few casual hours were just as vital as those spent training throughout the week.
He spun on his heel and raced ahead, his eyes fixed on the small obstacle course off to the side of the training centre. Might as well make this interesting. He threw himself into a forward roll through the sandpit, fluidly getting back up to his feet and trudging the rest of the way through. Only when he reached the edge of the pit did he plop himself down and beam a grin at the approaching girl, “Make a sand castle with me!” he called, running his hands through the fine sand, curious to see what she would do. He knew she would tag him out, and he was fine with that.
He put the scenario into perspective, If this was the Arena and all I had on me were the clothes on my back, how would I survive this?
Cassandia was quick-- it was truly the only way she survived back home. Easily, almost like breathing, she caught up, and her fingers brushed Jasper's clothing-- but, he escaped. He tucked, rolled, and landed in the sandpit, probably unaware of Cassandia nearly tripping over his body. She watched him, happy for just a moment, letting out a laugh at his suggestion. "Fuckin' seriously?" She asked, not believing him. "You're fucking ridiculous," Cassandia answered with almost no pause, landing on her knees in the sandpit and trying to work with him to create some remnant of a castle.
"I can't believe I'm fucking doing this--" she muttered, though the smile on her face betrayed how she felt. The distraction was welcome, though the anxiety of the games continued to linger at the back of her mind. "What is the point of the castle, Jasper?" She looked to him with an eyebrow arched up, questioning.
Her chest felt like it was expanding, it burned every time she took a breath, but she could not stop. In the back of Cassandia's head, she knew that she should've been covering her tracks, but that was not her worry at that moment. What was important was that she got far enough away, fast enough, to bandage up her head and clean herself off-- because there was no way she was going to blend in while she looked like a slaughtered lamb.
Though her legs screamed at her to stop, she continued to run through the trees, holding the hood of her coat tightly to her right ear. Blood would be much easier to track than footprints, and she didn't need the Insane Career Posse on her ass faster than they already probably were.
It felt like hours, it was truly several minutes, nearing thirty, that she ran. The forest began to dissipate, there was more space between trees-- and there it was. A stream-- the water clearly freezing-- but water. Cassandia knew she had next to no time. Quickly, she dropped to her knees at the edge of the bank and frantically ripped at the edge of her coat-- she needed a bandage, needed something to put pressure and stop the bleeding.
The crack of the branch sounded so much louder than the trickle of the stream, and Cassandia turned around, spear raised in her hand, her voice threatening and loud-- "Who's there?" Cassandia called out. She could only hope that it was Jasper or Ace.
Ace’s brow raised and jaw dropped just as Cass jerked away her hand. “You fucking slick shit.” He scoffed, crossing his arms, incredulous look on his face. “You really think ima sit here and be a good servant, huh?” He leaned down so they could be at eye level. “This is so going to work out.” He placed his hands on his hips, “In fact- I’m gunna be great, here I’ll start now.” He strode towards her, picking her up ina swift motion to put her over his shoulder, punches flying at his back. “Here you want me to tuck you in huh?”
Just as she was going to give her first order, she was picked up and handled much like a sack of potatoes. She let out a bit of a yelp, as she had been taken very much off guard-- "Mutiny!" Cassandia cried out, pounding on his back, "Lemme down, fuckhead!" The anger was never truly real, as she kept laughing as she tried to speak.
Sixty seconds. Cassandia had sixty seconds to formulate some sort of plan that would either get her killed, or save her life in the long-run. Though Ryan's words had been to find shelter and water, this was forgotten once she saw all that the Cornucopia could offer. Cassandia knew, that as much shelter and water she had would be worthless if the Careers found her-- especially with that one bitch from Four who definitely had something for her. Death was enough of a problem, Cassandia didn't need someone ripping her head off of her 'sweet little body'-- she was sure that playing with her insides wasn't far behind.
Forty-five seconds, and Cassandia was finally beginning to panic. The wind whipped around her, and she held on to her necklace tightly, remembering the year that the tribute had dropped their token, and her remains had to be scraped off of the ground. She looked around as best she could, through the snow, to her fellow tributes, eyes automatically searching for Ace before abandoning that train of thought. No, she did not want to find him. She did not want to have him die. No.
She quickly began to look for Jasper instead as the voice finally got to the thirties, then soon enough the twenties. Where is he, she thought, feeling her lips crack and dry-- "Fuck," she muttered, figuring they'd find one another later. Cassandia had more pressing matters-- I need a weapon, I need to survive, was the mantra that filled her head as she tried to mentally pick apart the nearby packs, what was inside them-- they had to be crucial, they were important-- she needed one.
There were ten seconds left, and her hands were shaking.
Five, and she felt as if she would faint.
None, and she bolted.
She ran faster than she had ever before, skipping the smaller packs near her and dashing towards those with a little more substance. With the silvery white of their uniforms, and her blonde hair, she had hoped that the Careers had, ah, bigger fish to fry. But, Zahara felt differently. The tribute from Four had already grouped up with her Pack, and just like a feral beast, with supplies on her back and a weapon in her hand, she caught sight of her prey and made her way towards it.
Cassandia was too busy to notice, leaping towards one of the packs and grasping it, moving to run away, towards the forest, towards the only thing that was familiar to her, that reminded her of home in this twisted place-- but her hair was violently yanked back, and Cassandia let out a scream as her body was pulled backwards, towards her attacker.
With force, she was thrown to the ground, landing on her back. Blinking her confusion away, she saw who it was. "Of course," she muttered to herself-- jokes at to be made, even when threatened with death. "Couldn't stay away, huh?" She said to Zahara as she tried to shimmy away, turning onto her stomach and crawling-- but her hair was once more grabbed, the pony tail firmly in the opposing tributes hand, but Cassandia refused to let out another scream.
Zahara laughed and the sound made Cassandia feel disgusted. Her hair was yanked up and she bit her lip hard in order to keep in the yelp that played behind her lips. She wouldn't give Zahara the satisfaction. "First," the Career said, as if they were the only two on the field. It was almost intimate the way she spoke, though there was a sharpness to her voice, and against her neck. The spear, Cassandia thought, trying hard to tune out Zahara. "I'm gunna cut up your pretty little body, give that nice dark skin some sexy little designs. Oh boy, is it gunna fuckin' hurt." Cassandia's hair was given another tug, closer, and she could feel Zahara's warm breath on her neck, such a contrast from the cool metal of the spear hovering over her skin. "Hm, then what should I do? I did say I'd snap you in half, oh, and that I'd pull your pretty little head off of this body of yours. Maybe I'll carry it around with me-- use this soft hair to tie it to my belt--"
Cassandia took the moment to throw her head back into Zahara's face, hearing a crack and a loud fuck as Zahara's hands flew to her nose. Cassandia fell into the snow and lost her breath, but did not let time escape her. She frantically looked around for the spear, for anything, but when she saw it it was too late-- just as she grasped at it, it was pulled from her gloved hands by Zahara. Just by a glance, Cassandia could see that her nose was broken-- there was blood spurting from it, and Cassandia smirked. "What was it you were saying?" She said through heavy breaths, yanking back the spear to no avail.
Zahara's leg swung back and her foot kicked into Cassandia's chest, shoving her back into the snow. "I'm gunna kill you, bitch," she muttered, lunging towards her. Cassandia panicked, and rolled out of the way the second before Zahara landed on her, and the spear only stabbed deep into the ground. "Missed," she managed, pushing her entire body weight into Zahara, finally having the upper hand for just a moment. Kill her, kill her, screamed her instincts, but her hesitation was a mistake.
District Four's tribute pulled the spear out of the ground, and Cassandia grabbed her hand, making sure she couldn't move it. She blinked away tears because she realised she was going to die, she was going to die, she was going to die because she couldn't kill Zahara-- she couldn't--
Zahara screamed, shoved Cassandia off of her and pulled the weapon back, "Stay still you little bitch," she yelled, and Cassandia felt as if her heart was in her throat. She swallowed, dodged once more, landing near Zahara's legs-- and she kicked her knees in with as much force as possible, swiping her legs out from under her in the next moment. Zahara landed on top of her and Cassandia's breath was knocked out of her. "You're fucking dead--" Zahara screamed at her, bringing down the spear, but Cassandia shifted only slightly, her ear was hit, and a scream tore through the battlefield.
"I think I like the sound of that, sweetie," said Zahara in that sickly-sweet tone as she leaned in and licked at her cheek, near Cassandia's ear. She shuddered keeping back whatever sob of pain threatened to rip through her. "What was I saying?" Zahara let out a laugh, and wiped roughly at her nose, keeping back a wince. Cassandia spotted the blood on her sleeve and smirked to herself. Maybe it wasn't hopeless. "Look at that pretty face of yours," Zahara muttered, grabbing Cassandia's chin violently. "S'gunna make a hell of a fuckin' trophy--" Cassandia wriggled out of the hold and chomped down on Zahara's hand.
With all her might and determination, Cassandia pushed the larger girl away, bashing her hand again and again on the rocks deep beneath the snow, hoping the weapon would be released. Though Zahara scratched at her, roared, and cut at her skin with her nails, Cassandia's desperation was greater that Zahara's desire to play with her insides. Once Zahara's hand let go of the spear, Cassandia could visualize herself getting away, escaping with both a pack and a weapon. She could survive.
She clawed her way up to her feet, grabbed the pack-- but Zahara grabbed at her legs and got her to fall. Shakily, the Career stood, breathing heavy, nose bleeding, and eyes wild. She screamed and lunged towards Cassandia, and Cassandia kicked her backwards and screamed herself. She copied Zahara's movements and jumped onto her, grabbing the hilt of the spear and driving it down, again and again and again, into Zahara. Her chest, her gut, her eye, anywhere she could land a hit, she did.
For a fraction of a second, Cassandia froze, realising what she had done. But the second passed, as she heard someone scream her name after her-- the Career pack would be on her in seconds-- and she had to disappear. She, covered in blood, would have to blend in and hide, save herself and survive--
Her shaking hands grabbed the pack and slung it over her shoulder as she abandoned the body of Zahara Murphy, whose smirk still graced her face, even in death.
