нє ωαѕ α вяυтє, α кιℓℓєя мαcнιηє
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нє ωαѕ α вяυтє, α кιℓℓєя мαcнιηє
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нє ωαѕ α вяυтє, α кιℓℓєя мαcнιηє
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i take height difference in my otps very seriously
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❝ she is of ivory skin [ & ] broken bones.
a fragile girl; born from the sea foam. ❞
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Also think i'll just move this blog cause it's srsly fucked up and i need a fresh start for cato i think...but eeh; too lazy atm
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tbh, think i'll change my fem!fc from teresa palmer and to eliza tayolor yo
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#thebloody&viciouscouple
nevermisses no but like after they won their games; the capitol wanna do something special; and since they are two and yeah; blood and houshsdf for some sick ass promo thing or smt because cray cray capitol
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nevermisses no but like after they won their games; the capitol wanna do something special; and since they are two and yeah; blood and houshsdf for some sick ass promo thing or smt because cray cray capitol
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Also; i'd like to rp like the end of the 74'th hunger games;
cato & clove style. like they would use weapons instead
of berries, and literally almost kill each other; so both could live....
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one thing i'll always have muse for...clato
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( ❛ Clove ❜ )
▐ 「×× 」;;
THE UNCERTAINTY upon her features remains, but she follows him towards
the dance floor. more heads turn to look at the two of them, she can still feel
the eyes boring into the back of her head. she takes a deep breath, lips pressed
together tightly. it’s taking an immense amount of control not to shove one
of them, or perhaps walk right up to them & tell them one of the many insults she’s
been reciting in her head to keep her calm. she brushes a dark strand of hair away.
& when they finally reach the middle of the floor, she’s certain that everyone
in the goddamn room is watching them ; like they’re a spectator sport.
she glares at him following his comment, pursing her lips again, frowning.
’ this is a TERRIBLE idea. & any toes you loose are your own fault. ‘
the dark haired girl informs him sternly, placing her hand on his shoulder,
focusing on him other than the hundreds of pairs of eyes on the two
of them. she takes another deep breath & slides her hand up to his arm
to take his hand hesitantly. dancing truly isn’t her forte. at all.
dance was a foreign thing for the victor. sure he'd seen it;
but he'd never practised it. all he'd teached was how to move in a
fight; nothing had prepared him for the capitol parties; where dancing
was second nature. so he would simply try keeping it simple; and
try NOT to step on her toes.
❝ well; dance with me, or i'm sure someone else would
love to get stepped on by you. ❞
it's a teasing tone to his voice; the smirk etched on to his lips. and
he starts to dance. more like taking a step back, tugging her along
...almost gently. n o t h i n g is ever gentle about cato. he's brutal,
he's vicious; he's a killer and gentle is not a word that would describe
him. & he glance down to see if he's close to crush her feet; before
looking up at her again.
strange
that's what this is. it's a strange situation to be in; a strange thing to
do, and he can feel every pair of eyes on them. and to stumble or
anything else would be a disasted. so it's simple. one step back, one
to the side, before taking one towards her.
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❝ she is of ivory skin [ & ] broken bones.
a fragile girl; born from the sea foam. ❞
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