byhiding:

          _{he paused ( trying to remember} who _{had been beaten} when _{——- his brain seemed overloaded with information these days ) then shook his head                   ‘ broadcast—-? no ’ tiberius would like to think he’d REMEMBER a broadcast of someone being beaten to death by peacekeepers——-} ( _{but then again, events like that hadn’t exactly been to hard to come across the last few weeks.} ) _{either way, he wasn’t sure EXACTLY WHAT the girl was talking about} && _{he wasn’t going to get into a GUESSING GAME, since that could only end in embarrassment … so tiberius asked ——- brow creased in a frown}

                            _{‘ whose your dad ? ’}

    “                 Cinna.”  For some reason, Chrysta hadn’t been in the
    mood to talk. A girl who is usually full with words had run empty.
    perhaps it was the tears choking out emotions,      or rather the
    confusion that refused to leave her mind be. Visions surge in and
    out;    images of her father being beaten before the countdown of
    the third quarter quell. Utter silence was at fault for suddon bumps
   upon once delicate skin.        “you didn’t watch the quarter quell?”

    “Sucks     doesn’t it.   Not knowing if you’re the last one left
       of the family line.   I’m pretty sure I’m dead last, my dad
       was beaten by peacekeepers. Did you see the broadcast?”

     it was as plain as day,    just moments before the victors were sent
     upwards to the arena. The capitol had every right to be suspicious
     Cinna wasn’t too discreet with his kindness towards Katniss. Her
     tone fell somewhat unaffected by the horrific events, albeit her love
     towards her only parent.

      [ byhiding​ ] //