ＥＡＴｏｒｂｅ ＥＡＴＥＮ

the hunger games trilogy starters || accepting

          Almond orbs grew pensive, precious blood pooling in his throat as it     drained from his cherubic cheeks, contemplative, yet shaken. What an     odd question that was — at least, to be asked of him. He wouldn’t know.     He’d never fallen apart, really. He’d been taken apart — limb by     limb, bone by bone, seam by seam of malleable flesh peeled away, torn     open, broken and mismatched and rearranged and marred, only to sew     himself together again long after his mind had ceased the desire for it. A     deep scar had been left in place of those that his eternal apparatus failed     to allow. A child required a safe haven in which to test his boundaries, to     expand his horizons, to find his limits. Those limits had been decimated     by a pair of cruel hands — a pair of sharp scissors, a cat o’nine tails, an     old mortician’s took-kit, a red-hot fire poker, and a soot-stained fireplace.          He still felt the cleaver against his throat. He still felt the acid burning     through his bone marrow. He still tasted the arsenic as it settled into his     lower intestine. He still felt the rope-burn against his wrists when he     closed his eyes — he could no longer sleep on his back…and every time     that his body was destroyed, no matter how brutal or thorough the manner,     it would heal — save for a very crucial component. With every shattered     bone, every opened vein, and every shewn pane of flesh, it took his brittle     mind, his wounded heart longer and longer to heal…          …until eventually, it stopped trying altogether.

hunger games trilogy starters || accepting

          The irony in his statement was deep, but likely ( knowing Firo ) quite    purposeful. It wasn’t rare for the boy to meditate upon his new-found     immortality, but when he spoke of her, there was something different     about it. He spoke as though, rather than feeling uncertain of his future,     for once he was eager for that endless time and what it may hold. A thin     hand turned perpendicular to the table upon which his elbow rested, his     palm upturned to cradle the gentle curve of his chin as his doeful eyes     watched her alongside Firo’s from across the room. She seemed quite     blissfully unaware of their observations, let alone the topic of their quiet     conversation. He envied it --- that trust in those surrounding her. Czes     himself was far too paranoid to allow such indulgence.          Even in the monotonous task of folding laundry, her expression wore     the smallest of smiles, and for the life of him, Czes couldn’t comprehend     precisely where the nature of it lie. To wear a smile when someone felt     happy was nothing unnatural, but happiness ( true happiness ) was often     brief, and fleeting. Happiness could be found in a moment --- in the heart     of a compliment, or the thought of something amusing, or the embrace of     a loved one...but in Ennis seemed to smile for no reason, alone ( to her     knowledge ), and doing chores, no less. Perhaps it was possible that she     was happy in her life as a whole...but that thought left a heavy, hollowing     ache in his stomach, and the taste of bitterness souring at the back of his     throat, and so he pushed it to the darkest corners of his mind, where the     spirit and image of Fermet lived. It wasn’t safe, to search for such joy.          Still...perhaps, for her, it was different. After all, she had someone who     would move the heavens and the earth to protect her, and her happiness.     --- It was strange...that he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Firo     would protect Ennis, that he would never abandon or desert her, and     never once did the thought cross his mind with any sort of hesitation...but     when asked the same of himself, rather than Ennis, he was left with that     same empty pit in his stomach. Why? Firo hadn’t changed...so perhaps it     was that the true problem...was himself.          Realizing that he’d been silent for too long, he tore his focus from the     seam of the shirt between her fingers, and murmured lowly.                              ❝ Well, you’ve got a thousand lifetimes to see about that.                        Funny enough...I’d say she thinks the same thing about you. ❞