Cato screams, as if the decibels could split the ground beneath them. His face is contorted with fury, lines and features jumbled up and spitting hatred. He doesn't look human, more like a bloodthirsty lion with spots in its eyes and teeth ready to bite down.
For a second, Clove just watches him. There's no need to calm him down, not really. Viewers will like this unhinged side of Cato, the killing machine - and Clove does too. She opens her coat ever so slightly and slips a hand in to run her finger over the sharpest blade she's got. This is a somewhat therapeutic motion for her. Before she goes to sleep each night, she makes a tiny cut in each digit.
But eventually she intervenes - Cato's screams have turned to anguish, and that is not the way things should be.
"Cato," she says, "You killed the boy from District 3. We have knives and swords and we'll get the rest." A psychopathic way of providing comfort, she treats the words knives and swords with extra reverence.
Cato looks down at the skinny boy who hasn't been treated with reverence in death. He snarls, and stomps on the boy's ribcage. They hear a reverberating crack, and blood starts seeping onto the ground.
---
They are on a train to the Capitol. It is not a long train ride, because they are from District 2 and the train seems to go at a million miles an hour.
As the railroad clacks beneath them (not that they can hear it), the boy tribute says to the girl; "You saw me volunteer. I'm Cato."
(Of course, names are less important than stature, how well they can kill.)
Clove nods.
"Do you think they'll have any knives in the Arena?" She asks. There is no point of keeping secrets - she is sure, whether this Cato knows about it or not, that she will slay everyone, including him, with a bloody knife.
"They might. They'd better have swords, though." He says gruffly. Clove notes the glint in his eye as he mentions a sword.
"We'd be good together, I think. We could kill them all."
Cato pauses, then grins, exposing a set of malignant teeth.
---
They are not like loverboy and his girl on fire. They are infinitely more fucked up, no matter the truth of the tributes from District 12.
After the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, Day One, the two of them are drenched in blood. Their fingers are sticky and their eyelids seem to be drawn down by blood, not sleep.
Clove's first kill, a boy from a District she didn't care about in the slightest, was a canvas of cuts after she was through with him. Cato had been impressed.
When the other Careers and the cameras were not looking, he dragged Clove to the inside of the Cornucopia and kissed her. It was not a kind kiss. At the same time, he lifted his hands to her face - and rubbed his fingers in her cuts.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
timeasmymeasure
no subject
For a second, Clove just watches him. There's no need to calm him down, not really. Viewers will like this unhinged side of Cato, the killing machine - and Clove does too. She opens her coat ever so slightly and slips a hand in to run her finger over the sharpest blade she's got. This is a somewhat therapeutic motion for her. Before she goes to sleep each night, she makes a tiny cut in each digit.
But eventually she intervenes - Cato's screams have turned to anguish, and that is not the way things should be.
"Cato," she says, "You killed the boy from District 3. We have knives and swords and we'll get the rest." A psychopathic way of providing comfort, she treats the words knives and swords with extra reverence.
Cato looks down at the skinny boy who hasn't been treated with reverence in death. He snarls, and stomps on the boy's ribcage. They hear a reverberating crack, and blood starts seeping onto the ground.
---
They are on a train to the Capitol. It is not a long train ride, because they are from District 2 and the train seems to go at a million miles an hour.
As the railroad clacks beneath them (not that they can hear it), the boy tribute says to the girl; "You saw me volunteer. I'm Cato."
(Of course, names are less important than stature, how well they can kill.)
Clove nods.
"Do you think they'll have any knives in the Arena?" She asks. There is no point of keeping secrets - she is sure, whether this Cato knows about it or not, that she will slay everyone, including him, with a bloody knife.
"They might. They'd better have swords, though." He says gruffly. Clove notes the glint in his eye as he mentions a sword.
"We'd be good together, I think. We could kill them all."
Cato pauses, then grins, exposing a set of malignant teeth.
---
They are not like loverboy and his girl on fire. They are infinitely more fucked up, no matter the truth of the tributes from District 12.
After the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, Day One, the two of them are drenched in blood. Their fingers are sticky and their eyelids seem to be drawn down by blood, not sleep.
Clove's first kill, a boy from a District she didn't care about in the slightest, was a canvas of cuts after she was through with him. Cato had been impressed.
When the other Careers and the cameras were not looking, he dragged Clove to the inside of the Cornucopia and kissed her. It was not a kind kiss. At the same time, he lifted his hands to her face - and rubbed his fingers in her cuts.
Her mouth tasted like blood. He licked it clean.