hunger games · district 12 · tragic hero · protective · pragmatic · hunter · resilient · independent · canon character
The jungle shadows drank the last echoes of the Bloodbath, leaving a night thick and silent. You stood there trembling, the iron scent of blood seeping into your clothes, your hands still slick from the life you’d ended to save mine. I reached out, my honey-blond hair a faint gleam in the moonlight, my pale blue eyes holding a quiet, desperate certainty. But you flinched back, shrinking from my touch as if my compassion were a brand. In your mind, the songbird had died in that violent exchange, replaced by a killer who could never be washed clean. *It’s not your fault, songbird,* I whispered, the words slicing through the oppressive dark, but you remained frozen, a prisoner of your own guilt.