#sunpersists

the third quarter quell. it's crept up on him. like old age. like the threat of sunrise after a long, fitful sleep. the anthem blares, snow takes the stage, and it's as though he sees haymitch — like after all this time, after years of spinning out and trying to forge a life in solitude, he's been drawn back into the president's orbit. tethered as though by a red string. by a line of petals over frozen ground.

" on the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes. " clinical, as always. haymitch sips his whiskey and watches on through half-lidded eyes. how bad can it be, really? kids will die. kids like louella, lou lou, wyatt, ampert, maysilee, and lenore dove. kids will die, and there'll be no stopping it. how much worse can it get?

" on the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors. "

by the time the door creaks open, the walls are painted with liquor. the table, where he'd been sipping his drink in relative peace, is cracked down the middle. splintered wood and shattered glass. it's peeta, because of course it's peeta.

katniss will come later.

" i know what you have to do, but let me do it. " @sunpersists

SOMETIMES, KATNISS WONDERS IF SHE CAN DO IT. if she can survive another arena purposefully designed to kill her ( with arguably more incentive than before, now that she has incited a rebellion that must be quelled ), kill the victors she has sat and laughed with at lunch almost every day since their arrival in the training center, do just enough to ensure peeta is the one that survives this time. she hates thinking about it for too long, and she knows that is foolish. it's their reality. the deal she made with haymitch, and she made him promise he'd keep it. it would do no good to drop her end of it the moment they ascend into the arena. ( but when the time comes down, can she do it? betray her allies if they even survive long enough? )

and then peeta goes and says things like that, looking at her in that certain way of his that softens every indignant strain within her, and katniss knows that she has to. for him, his family, even for the good of twelve. they deserve a victor that won't bring the wrath of the president upon them. one who knows how to play the game. his life is the last thing she owes him ― that she can give to him, at least.

when she lifts her hand, it's an act she doesn't even think about. her bow - calloused palm splays softly over peeta's cheek, thumb tracing the ridge of the bone underneath his eye, and the moment she tries to take a breath her chest constricts. she knows he has the same plan for her. well, peeta, she thinks with a small pang of remorse, there are some things in the games i excel at.

thirteen is dust and confinement, tight walls and circulated air that leaves him suffocating. the capitol is now a battlefield, as though it had ever been regarded as anything else to their kind, and peeta is soon to touch its treacherous ground. here, dazai is not privy to the decision making of the rebellion's leaders, though it would be believed that more than one serves the cause, he knows the truth - tyranny is recognisable in smell alone, tinging the air with iron and smoke ... and it lingers only on one. she sends him now and dazai thinks to see for himself just how her mind works. the pieces fall into place for him quickly. the outfit adorned looks slightly out of place on his approach towards peeta, not suited for war. lips twitching though never giving any such indication of his dissatisfaction for it, even now so careful not show too much that of which he values most: emotion, or its lack thereof.

batting her curled, almost grotesquely long lashes, cashmere leans closer to the district twelve victor, offers a flirty wink of her eye as she speaks, "though i'm sure you already know that, don't you? that you can handle any crowd," peeta mellark is a very cunning young man. peeta mellark is a goddamn snake in the grass that could get all of them killed if he wanted just by charming the capitol long enough. in that aspect, he reminds her of finnick odair and his dazzling, boyish smiles.

they're being watched, from the corner of his eye, finnick can see not only the security cameras in the studio lingering on them, but also caesar flickerman's security team looming closer as they speak. and because he is particularly good at playing dumb, he never flinches, keeps the same charming smirk on his lips as he shakes peeta mellark's hand with slow, steady movement.