#huntedhunter

[ofvigilcnce-blog]

❝ so G-d created mankind in his own image, in the image of G-d he created them; male and female he created them. ❞ // hunter twill and kahente eastwood, the final two tributes for the 120th hunger games (@huntedhunter)

[ofvigilcnce-blog]

Kahente had always been terrified of water. 

For as long as she could remember (which in this moment was not a long time), her biggest fear had been drowning. There was no recollection of the overcoming of that fear, no recollection of all the other, far scarier things there were in the world to be afraid of. All she knew was that the thought of drowning terrified her, and there seemed to be no escape from the never-ending stream of it.

As the water levels rose, she attempted to seek higher ground, tried to find some place to hide to wait out the incoming storm, but there seemed to be no way to avoid it, and she only got farther and farther from the terrain that she had been pacing for the last hour or so. 

The water was up to her chin in no time, and she prepared herself for drowning, prepared herself to die with no recollection of more than half of her existence. However, muscle memory took over from there, and instead of drowning, she floated to the surface.

She had no idea where or when she had learned to do this, and the very fact that she was lying on top of the water as more was added underneath her scared her more than the water itself, but she waited it out, readjusting herself every now and then like she had been doing it for her entire life.

By the time the water began to drain, Kahente had lost track of time, had no idea how long it had been since she woke up that morning, but a memory suddenly came crashing back into her brain. Why her father wasn’t with her, why her father might have been dead at home while she was...wherever she was. 

Cancer.

It was at this moment, her head in her hands trying to massage out the pain she felt from the new memory in her brain, her hair dripping water all over her freezing body, that she ran across another person for the first time since her last kill.

“P-p-please,” she managed to squeak out, involuntarily shivering, appearing the weakest she had ever been. “D-d-don’t kill me, I have to get home to my f-f-f-father.” // starter for @huntedhunter

[ofvigilcnce-blog]

❝ you need to build yourself in front of the others. build up not down. you’re hardly an ant, dearest. you’re a butterfly .❞ → kahente eastwood & hunter twill, district 8′s tributes for the 120th hunger games (@huntedhunter)

[ofvigilcnce-blog]

The whole day was full of uncomfortable situations. First, she was forced to strip down in front of people she had never met before, scrubbed cleaner than she had ever been before, waxed, plucked, and tweezed, and she felt totally raw. Then, she had to try on weird outfits, dresses, ceremonial garments, things that just felt weird over her newly cleaned skin. She wanted to go for a run, go hunting, go anywhere else besides the stylist bay. The one comfort she had was making funny faces at Hunter throughout the afternoon as they were both stuck with pins.

Later that evening, sleeping in her bed felt weird. The sheets didn’t feel right against her freshly shaven legs, and none of the pajamas left for her went past her knees. So, she made her way out towards the kitchen, gathering ingredients from the fridge and placing a pan on the stove. She was so invested in her work that she barely heard the faint sound of footsteps behind her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, turning to face whoever was in the main room, smiling a bit when she saw it was Hunter. “Did I wake you up? Didn’t mean to be loud.” // starter for @huntedhunter

[persephoneleon]

“so, are you gonna teach me how to play one of these games ??” percy asked, appearing beside hunter as though the spot next to him had been reserved for her. percy wasn’t sure if she really wanted to learn, didn’t like playing games with bad odds, but she’d had a few drinks and gained some extra confidence. and if all the loud background noises were of machines and people winning at random games anyway, she thought she might as well try her hand at it. if anything, if someone else taught her, they could be to blame if she lost. though she wasn’t sure if she’d voice that out loud to hunter, she’d only take it as less of a strike to her ego if she did lose money on this stuff. besides, wasn’t there some pride in losing victor’s money anyway ??

@huntedhunter​

[persephoneleon]

“look, i know the cat’s got your tongue and all, but your feet still work, right ??” she wasn’t sure how long the ball had been on for, just that it felt too long and she was somewhere between restless and straight-up drunk. this was her way of asking if hunter wanted to dance, because asking anyone anything outright still felt like admitting to a weakness of sorts. she still waited for a reply, as if she’d get one, an eyebrow raised as she looked at him.

@huntedhunter​

[anxstatia]

He danced on the knife’s edge between awareness and sleep. When he dreamt like this, he was a king. The world was his to bend. His to burn. (x)

[anxstatia]

An Avox is a person who has been punished for being a rebel against the Capitol; a traitor or a runaway. Avoxes have had their tongues cut out, rendering them mute. They are used as domestic servants and waiter upon tributes and Capitol citizens; Latin origin from the word ‘vox’ which means voice, and the prefix, a which means without.