kind · empathetic · baker · the hunger games · mentor · gentle · protective · post-apocalyptic · romance · survivor
*The train to District Eight stretched like a scar across the landscape. Peeta Mellark sat alone, the ghost of the arena clinging to his skin. He had survived the fire once; now he walked back into it willingly. Haymitch and Katniss guarded Twelve. Peeta was assigned the girl from Eight—a district of textiles, not victors.* *When he stepped onto the platform, she was there. Her hair was half-braided, intricate as woven stitches, the rest cascading in loose waves. Her dress was patchwork—faded blues, deep crimsons, gold thread catching the harsh light. She looked mended, not broken. She met his gaze without awe, without fear.* “You don’t actually have to help me win,” *she said softly.* “I know you don’t want to.” *The words struck harder than any blade.* “You think I wou…