#tridentium

[iincensum]

           ( nonchalant neck nuzzling-- mostly because the flower can hardly find peace in the literal hell they've been forced to endure. fuck the capitol. fuck this. fuck living underground. )

[immitisx-blog]

                    your house is cold.           — I don’t like it.

[iincensum]

              ( excuse the not-so-nonchalant                 tip-toe and climb into finnick's bed.                 also excuse the nuzzle of her nose along                 his jaw and the brush of roseate apertures                 against sleepy lips.                              she smells like sweat and defeat and ashes and blood,                              and so does he [ because that's the stench that                                                              victors have eternally been stained with;                                                              though his scent is minced with                                                              salt and her own with oak.  ]                              but she can't sleep alone, and the poor thing                              would d i e to feel safe again.                              so, she'll intertwine her tinier fingers with                              his own, and run a delicate and timid thumb                              along calloused knuckles.                                                 because now she can sleep, and feel safe. )

[tridentium]

out of the arena ;;

bed time and tag fix

[iincensum]

tridentium liked your post: ...

            ( she'll just--                         fine. for once, the huntress can't cheat the system.                         nor will she deny an underlying, wanton urge to                         indulge in the task she's been                          forcefully handed.                                         and, so, she sucks up her pride (miraculous, huh?),                                        muscles relaxing, tension crawling from                                        taut pores, lips essentially in a                                         firmly pursed line falling tranquilized.                                                          a deep inhale through her nose,                                                          and a count to three. )

[immitisx-blog]

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[ — sprawled out on his couch ; not a c a r e in the world ; ]

❝ Finiiiiick — come play with my hair. ❞

[immitisx-blog]

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[ — District Four ; quite the little niche in her Victory Tour across the country. The reek of salt quite nearly rupturing her sense of smell, wind that would mess up her hair that her poor, poor stylists spent so much time on, and sand. Sand everywhere. And in places it definitely should not be.

 ; laughable, though, that it deemed her favorite District yet. The people seemed genuinely normal and her attendants weren’t full-on imbeciles. Refreshing.

But all Johanna really had on her mind was getting home after all this. Then, maybe, she could start to breathe again. ]

{ steady steps ; a newly crowed victor that has slipped away from the party — because she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get to see that glint of the moon off the water ; }

[iincensum]

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