who: hani jang & icarus cross @tetheredgod where: after the announcement for the 92nd hunger games Hani spotted him across the marble foyer, lit gold by too many chandeliers and too many Capitol eyes pretending not to watch. Her heels clicked sharply as she crossed the distance, the sound deliberate - like a warning. The celebrations had barely ended, the confetti still clung to her shoulders, and the aftertaste of forced laughter hadn’t quite left her tongue. But none of that mattered now. Not with that announcement hanging in the air like a guillotine’s shadow.
She found him exactly where she expected. Standing like a statue carved from disdain, posture military-proud, jaw tense enough to crack. Icarus Cross never did let grief soften him; no, he wore it like a blade. And she knew - oh, she knew - he still blamed her for that boy’s death.
“Imagine my surprise,” she drawled, stopping just shy of arm’s reach, “when the worst part of tonight wasn’t the champagne or the speeches - ” her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, “ - but realizing I’d be seeing you again so soon.”
Her lips twitched upward into a mockery of a smile. Polished. Pretty. Sharp as glass.
“You celebrating, Icky?” she asked, voice low now, almost intimate in its venom. “Must be a lovely twist of fate, watching the Capitol toss me into the pit for a change. I bet it tastes sweet.”
She raised a brow, as if daring him to say it. To gloat. To be honest. Because whatever passed between them was never anything less than brutally so.
