Clove (![]() ![]() @ 2012-08-17 22:09:00 |
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This whole place was a mindfuck. She'd never really understood the levels of that term prior to her arrival on the train, but that was the only word for it. A mindfuck. It wasn't normal. It wasn't home. She was ignoring about three quarters of it on the grounds that it didn't fit into her idea of reality. There were dead people here, Katniss and Lover Boy somehow won the Games, and the world was upside down. To add to that, Cato was already rubbing against her pride. Please. Like she couldn't take him. Sure, hew as taller than her, had at least twenty pounds on her (and probably more than that, really), but she'd studied him when they'd run together. Like she'd studied Marvel. Like she'd studied Glimmer, and Peeta. The boy from 3. The ones from 4. Her strategy was to learn them, to find their weak place, and when it was time, exploit it. Apparently, she never found that time because apparently she died. Cato would probably know how, but she wasn't ready to ask him about that yet. Maybe after she was done soundly kicking his ass. Then she'd see. Flexing her wounded arm, Clove sought out this 'chance' car. It wasn't at the front of the train, and nothing she'd passed through yet had looked chance-y. Not until she got to the door propped open in the back. Figuring this had to be it (because it didn't look like there was anywhere else to go), Clove let herself into the room. With a blade in hand, she swept her blue eyes around as she sought her intended target. Maybe they'd find out for sure if the train wouldn't let them kill each other. |