#walker.isabela

Sitting at the bar, glass of amber liquid in-between her hands, Isabela’s eyes were on the screen above the bartender’s head. It was late, she could be back on her own floor, especially with the lack of her own tribute anymore, but Raven was still alive and she’d made a fucking promise to Trixanna, not to mention the fact her floor was entirely too quiet and her own monsters and horrors lurked in the shadows. 

There was a reason Isabela avoided the damn tower. Only so much distraction could be had before the reality of the fact she had failed her sister settled in or the reality that she was expected to get along with her sister’s killer to begin to irritate her. 11 in the morning was too early to drink and so, with little to do with the tributes with the arena so quiet, Isabela found herself in the deserted training center, band of shiny throwing knives strapped to her thigh, hair pulled into a high pony. A screen on the far wall on just so she could keep an eye on things, but vastly ignored.