#tesseraes

[exglory]

" you gotta live, kiddo. by the skin of your teeth. in here or in the games, it's all the same to me; it takes and it takes. " but it's not taking you, left unspoken between the elder and younger.

@tesseraes , a closed one-liner for : tidus & ronan.

[exglory]

" steady your aim... " katniss' words– not his own– spill from his mouth. " one breath, a tick or two, then let go. "

@tesseraes, a closed one-liner for : rory & ronan.

[exglory]

what did your mother look like? (odette for mars)

this day, in a garden blotted with pale flowers, the sky is a sallow color & full of tumultuous clouds that– mars notes– is as if a reflection of his mood. quickly and quietly exiting the ballroom for the gardens of president snow's estate, mars inhales the scent of nectar sweet pollen and nearly gags on it, finding no relief in fresh air— save for the swirling air pressure that indicates a storm. he hopes with torrential downpour, the saccharine nature of the capitol might reduce. but he should know better— nothing can wash away the stain this place holds.

" what did your mother look like? "

the voice that breaks through mars' oncoming panic attack belongs to a familiar face, one that knew his own, one that knew his father's too— the victor in the next room acting as if he was one of them (the capitol), and not one of their dogs.

" what? " mars tries not to snap on the fellow victor, but he can feel anger rising up from the depths of his belly quickly, over heating in his chest.

his mother— she wasn't a victor like his father, but that didn't mean his father didn't love her any less. she'd been the man's everything from before the games, during the games, all the way to the moment he won them. and though she'd died before mars, her first born son, had been forced to volunteer for his own.... mars knew she'd of expected him to, she had been no different from his father.

still, she was sweeter.

in the way that mothers are, she was a nurturing soul. she would have raised him to fight down to his teeth and nails, but she also would have taught him that life has a purpose, even his own, and that it wasn't for this.

she'd want him not to win, but to succeed and gain the favor his father could never find.

but mars is too bitter, too jaded to appeal to the capitol in the charming way he might have if he were raised by her. instead he, though comparing his father to a dog, is no better— a blood hound given to the nearest captiol's starlight as a date for the night.