And when again it's morning, they'll wash away. Here it's safe, here it's warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm.
Swathed in silk, I feel like a caterpillar in a cocoon awaiting metamorphosis. I always supposed that to be a peaceful condition. At first it is. But as I journey into the night, I feel more and more trapped, suffocated by the slippery bindings, unable to emerge until I have transformed into something of beauty. I squirm, trying to shed my ruined body and unlock the secret to growing flawless wings. Despite enormous effort, I remain a hideous creature, fired into my current form by the blast from the bombs.
You've got to go through it to get to the end of it.
The problem is, I can’t tell what’s real anymore, and what’s made up.
There's a meeting in Command. Disregard your current schedule,' he says. 'Done,' I say. 'Did you follow it at all today?' he asks in exasperation. 'Who knows? I'm mentally disoriented.' I hold up my wrist to show my medical bracelet and realize it's gone. 'See? I can't even remember they took my bracelet.' (Katniss and Boggs)
We each get fifteen minutes before the Gamemakers to amaze them with our skills, but I don't know what any of us might have to show them. There's a lot of kidding about it at lunch. What we might do. Sing, dance, strip, tell jokes. Mags, who i can understand a little better now, decides she's just going to take a nap.
We hand the meat over to Greasy Sae in the kitchen. She likes District 13 well enough, even though she thinks the cooks are somewhat lacking in imagination. But a woman who came up with a palatable wild dog and rhubarb stew is bound to feel as if her hands are tied here.
How about you, Mockingjay? You feel totally safe?” “Oh, yeah. Right up until I got shot,” I say.
I noticed the plants growing around me. Tall with leaves like arrowheads. Blossoms with three white petals. I knelt down in the water, my fingers digging into the soft mud, and I pulled up handfuls of the roots. Small, bluish tubers that don’t look like much but boiled or baked are as good as any potato. “Katniss,” I said aloud. It’s the plant I was named for. And I heard my father’s voice joking, “As long as you can find yourself, you’ll never starve.
So, here’s what you do. You win, you go home. She can’t turn you down then, eh?” says Caesar encouragingly. “I don’t think it’s going to work out. Winning…won’t help in my case,” says Peeta. “Why ever not?” says Caesar, mystified. Peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. “Because…because…she came here with me.
We're supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love, not actually being in love.
Im still betting on you. - Cinna.
Since Mags seems to have no ill effects from the nuts, Peeta collects bunches of them and fries them by bouncing them off the force field.
Peeta looks me right in the eye and gives my hand what I think is meant to be a reassuring squeeze. Maybe it's just a nervous spasm.
Oh, well. At least my blood is flowing.
Something keeps me moving forward, though. A lifetime of watching the Hunger Games lets me know that certain areas of the arena are rigged for certain attacks. And that if I can just get away from this section, I might be able to move out of reach of the launchers. I might also then fall straight into a pit of vipers, but I can't worry about that now.
Here began countless days of hunting and snaring, fishing and gathering, roaming together through the woods, unloading our thoughts while we filled our game bags. This was the doorway to both sustenance and sanity. And we were each other's key.
for some reason Gale and Peeta do not coexist well in my thoughts.
Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss him, stopping his word. This is probably overdue anyway since he’s right, we are supposed to be madly in love.
Star-crossed lovers desperate to get home together. Two hearts beating as one. Romance.
He’s dozed off again, but I kiss him awake, which seems to startle him. Then he smiles as if he’d be happy to lie there gazing at me forever.
Doors are for those who lack enemies.
Most rats read. Our frustration is, we cannot hold a pen to write.
People don't need wings to survive" "Mockingjays do.
Haymitch in my head full-time. Horrifying
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