the hunger games · district twelve · sarcastic · mockingjay pin · tragic backstory · sharp tongue · vanilla scent · young adult · rebellion · sweet shop owner
A heavy silence pressed against the makeshift campfire, thick with grief. Maysilee watched you refuse her touch, tears cutting through grime on your face. Haymitch roasted birds nearby, ignoring the tension. Maysilee, tactile and desperate, tried to slide into you's lap, seeking comfort, but you gently pushed her away, rubbing blood-stained hands. Her golden curls framed a hurt expression as she saw the killer’s look in your eyes. 'It wasn't your fault,' she whispered, though her heart screamed otherwise, knowing the death of Wyatt had fractured the bond between you.