His sword slices the air where a moment ago it would have kissed the flesh of her thigh. Half a moment later he goes careening to the floor, narrowly clearing the stretch of wall her knife blesses with an unholy, resounding thud. She laughs, and spits, and smiles her blood red smile. She hadn’t intended to hit him, of course. All in good time.
(i) ura fever (eron mezza remix) • the kills (ii) tenderoni • kele (iii) go (feat. karen o) • santigold (iv) animale (feat. dragonette) (datsik remix) • don diablo (v) your joy is my low • iamx (vi) your body is a machine (get people remix) • the good natured (vii)keep the streets empty for me (fine cut bodies remix) • fever ray
i. high and dry - radiohead (you’d kill yourself for recognition / kill yourself to never ever stop) ii. stripped - shiny toy guns (let me hear you crying out just for me / let me see you stripped down to the bone / metropolis has nothing on this / you’re breathing in fumes i taste when we kiss) iii. brutality - black box recorder (good old fashioned brutality / everything in it’s place / good old fashioned barbarity / leave the room in disgrace) iv. keep the streets empty for me - fever ray ( we were hungry before we were born) v. dull life - yeah yeah yeahs (we’ve seen the nightmare of the lies that you speak / the beast that i lie beneath is coming in / and it’s a dull life / it’s a dark place) vi. elephants - warpaint (i know that you are not here / sort of lost without you) vii. suffocation - crystal castles (humility yet to be seen / models made of plasticine / morality disgrace us now / entertain and take a bow) viii. the beast - austra (the morning that i was born again / i was made into a beast.)
blood is blood and bone is bone | hunger games; cato x clove; r
Cato does not volunteer so much as grabs the tribute by his skinny shoulder and tosses him aside. He ascends the stage like god climbing the steps heavenward. He’s grinning, let’s the escort raise his broad, long arm high above his head. The crowd is a deafening roar of approval. District 2 never fails to bring out the strongest fighter, the most likely contender. Cato’s hand closes in a solid fist, to show them his strength.
Clove’s arms cross over her chest, and she grins. Two more years, and it’ll be her up there, lapping up the applause and love and approval—two more years, but she’s still the best with a knife. And she can see the little grey ring of dents right underneath Cato’s elbow. She gave that to him, the very first time they met, sunk her teeth deep enough into skin to touch bone. He thought he could push her around because she was littler, younger, but she showed him. She showed them all. Her knife rests against her thigh, more familiar to her than her own hand. Twenty meters off a bird lands on the cement roof. Clove could hit it square in the chest.