[She doesn't respond to that. She can't. There's hope in Prim's words, a hope she wants to believe in so badly, but knows is ultimately futile. Because what she saw in that room had no underlying hope behind it. An ally is now a stranger, and doesn't even think she's human. The gravity of that hits her once more, more strongly than it did earlier, and elicits a series of unwanted physiological responses. The formation of a lump in her throat that blocks the passage of air and makes breathing difficult. A set of tears stinging in her eyes, tears she's fighting her absolute hardest to blink back, even in the darkness of this room.
Hope can't take root in this unnatural maze of lead and concrete. There's only one truth that exists, she knows this now. The boy with the bread is lost to her. Forever.
And the faster she forces herself to accept that truth, the easier it'll be. The better she'll be able to focus on the only objective that matters, the one she specified with shaking hands when she agreed to be the Mockingjay.
I KILL SNOW.
It matters now almost more than it ever has.
Silence persists between them, one she allows to extend just long enough to avoid this topic of conversation. She simply keeps her sister as close as she can, as if to shield her from the horrors of this day. From unknown potential horrors that could still emerge. There are no limits to what could be taken from her, Snow has more than made that abundantly clear, but maybe if she holds on tightly enough....--
When she finally speaks, still maintaining the quiet whisper from before, she hates how unsteady it still sounds.]
no subject
Hope can't take root in this unnatural maze of lead and concrete. There's only one truth that exists, she knows this now. The boy with the bread is lost to her. Forever.
And the faster she forces herself to accept that truth, the easier it'll be. The better she'll be able to focus on the only objective that matters, the one she specified with shaking hands when she agreed to be the Mockingjay.
I KILL SNOW.
It matters now almost more than it ever has.
Silence persists between them, one she allows to extend just long enough to avoid this topic of conversation. She simply keeps her sister as close as she can, as if to shield her from the horrors of this day. From unknown potential horrors that could still emerge. There are no limits to what could be taken from her, Snow has more than made that abundantly clear, but maybe if she holds on tightly enough....--
When she finally speaks, still maintaining the quiet whisper from before, she hates how unsteady it still sounds.]
I'm leaving for Two. [A beat.] Tomorrow.