Syren. d2.

SYREN. 23. DISTRICT TWO.

[zephyrsteele]

cg-syren​:

She said nothing as she looked at the boy. Boy seemed a perfectly apt description, he didn’t seem overly athletic nor strong. But he did have alcohol she thought to herself as she noticed the crystal his wiry hands were wrapped around.

She took a step towards him, and then another, her eyes locked on his, like a predator on its prey. She lingered for but a moment before twirling away playfully. 

“Syren.” she extended her hand and flashed a mischievous smile.

He watched as she approached, his eyebrows rising almost imperceptibly as she locked eyes with him. She was almost cat-like with her graceful, sudden movements are wide, all-seeing eyes. Zephyr didn’t even blink, meeting her gaze steadily as his hand meet hers. He negotiated the handshake slowly, being sure never to break eye contact with her. 

He dropped her hand with a sudden movement, clenching his own into a fist as he drew it back to his side. A long, deep sigh escaped his lips, and his hand relaxed once more.

“You’ll never guess what District I’m from.” He said, matching the girls mischievous grin with one of his own.

[cg-syren]

The boy had tried to return her steely gaze, successfully or not so she hadn’t quite decided. He wasn’t an easy read. Though his sudden rigidity was more telling, perhaps a slightly more delicate touch here may be to more of an advantage. Was he afraid? She flashed a smile as friendly as she’d ever worn. 

“You guess mine, and I’ll guess yours.” she said sweetly.

[cg-syren]

Syren gazed longingly through the polished glass of the tribute train, the landscape speeding by to the eerie silence of her current habitat. Another day, another prison. She looked out at a world left untouched, forgotten; and far more beautiful for it. She stared for a for more mere moments before setting herself to the situation at hand. Rising with purpose she swiftly turned to face another tribute whom had, unfortunately for them, stumbled into her den. 

“Lost, are we?” she mused with a wry smile.

[augustmayne]

August was lost, not quite having figured out the configuration of the train. It seemed to switch up on her every time she walked through, though she wasn’t sure how they managed to do that. The Capitol could do anything, though, so it wasn’t too surprising.

Startled by the other tribute despite having seen her first, a small yelp escaped August’s lips as she was addressed. “I’m real sorry, I’m not trying to bother. I’m just trying to find the supper car.” Something about the other tribute made August immediately nervous, her hands unconsciously smoothing out her dress. “Do you, um, know where the supper car is?”

[cg-syren]

Syren looked at the girl like a wolf looks at a lamb, her piercing gaze laying on the girl of smaller stature. She wasn’t a career, that much was certain, plus the notion of supper had her realise how hungry she really was. She couldn't remember the last time she had a filling meal. Even she had been nervous for the reaping and didn’t have the stomach for food. Now, however.

“I’m sure I could find it.” she spoke as she turned to the and strode to the door. She paused and turned, the girl still just standing there.

“Well, are you coming?”

[cg-syren]

Syren gazed longingly through the polished glass of the tribute train, the landscape speeding by to the eerie silence of her current habitat. Another day, another prison. She looked out at a world left untouched, forgotten; and far more beautiful for it. She stared for a for more mere moments before setting herself to the situation at hand. Rising with purpose she swiftly turned to face another tribute whom had, unfortunately for them, stumbled into her den. 

“Lost, are we?” she mused with a wry smile.

[zephyrsteele]

Zephyr slipped into the carriage silently, hovering just a few steps behind the tribute with mild interest. He watched her back as she stared out the window, rocking gently on the balls of his feet, his hands still clasped around his half-drunk glass of whiskey.

He blinked as the tribute twirled around, noting the smile on her face and meeting it with his own.

“On the contrary,” he said, taking a sip of his drink, “I’m exactly where I intended to be.”

“I’m Zephyr.”

[cg-syren]

She said nothing as she looked at the boy. Boy seemed a perfectly apt description, he didn’t seem overly athletic nor strong. But he did have alcohol she thought to herself as she noticed the crystal his wiry hands were wrapped around.

She took a step towards him, and then another, her eyes locked on his, like a predator on its prey. She lingered for but a moment before twirling away playfully. 

“Syren.” she extended her hand and flashed a mischievous smile.

[cg-syren]

Syren gazed longingly through the polished glass of the tribute train, the landscape speeding by to the eerie silence of her current habitat. Another day, another prison. She looked out at a world left untouched, forgotten; and far more beautiful for it. She stared for a for more mere moments before setting herself to the situation at hand. Rising with purpose she swiftly turned to face another tribute whom had, unfortunately for them, stumbled into her den. 

“Lost, are we?” she mused with a wry smile.

[zephyrsteele]

Zephyr slipped into the carriage silently, hovering just a few steps behind the tribute with mild interest. He watched her back as she stared out the window, rocking gently on the balls of his feet, his hands still clasped around his half-drunk glass of whiskey.

He blinked as the tribute twirled around, noting the smile on her face and meeting it with his own.

“On the contrary,” he said, taking a sip of his drink, “I’m exactly where I intended to be.”

“I’m Zephyr.”

[cg-syren]

Syren gazed longingly through the polished glass of the tribute train, the landscape speeding by to the eerie silence of her current habitat. Another day, another prison. She looked out at a world left untouched, forgotten; and far more beautiful for it. She stared for a for more mere moments before setting herself to the situation at hand. Rising with purpose she swiftly turned to face another tribute whom had, unfortunately for them, stumbled into her den. 

“Lost, are we?” she mused with a wry smile.

[capitolgames]

YOUR CAPITOL SALUTES YOU, SYREN HEARTING OF DISTRICT TWO.

Syren has never found much enjoyment in being indoors. Her life thus far has been spent tirelessly exploring the mountains of her district with friends between shifts at the market stall she helps her father run. When she was young, Syren would often stare out classroom windows up at the peaks, off limits to most, and wonder what it would be like to hike up and never return. Now it looks like she may never know.

KEIRA KNIGHTLEY. TWENTY-THREE. SHE/HER. TAKEN.