"When you’ve lived in someone’s shadow for a long time, you can get used to it. You have to. Especially when it’s someone who’s so perfect and so beautiful. We accept that some birds are high flying birds, and other birds are not, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fly together.”
She hadn’t mourned. Not at first and not in public. They had known what they were getting into the moment they’d allied with Haymitch to keep Peeta and Katniss alive. They had talked about it lightly. Death wasn’t something to fear. They were victors, after all. They had faced certain death and won. And worse than the Games, they had faced the Capitol. They had been their little playthings. A rich citizen’s accessory. They had learned death wasn’t the worst life had to offer. Because their lives had been cruel.
But they had each other. He sat next to her the evening she learned of her family’s death. The news came the day after she’d let her temper get the best of her and had beat the highest bidder an inch from life. After that day she’d learned to bottle everything in when it came to the Capitol — at least for awhile. She had stood next to him for every minute of Annie’s Games. She remembered how he clutched her arm as he mumbled instructions to his beloved through the screen.
Life had been brutal and so they became brutal. But he had always had the charm to smooth his roughness. She didn’t. She was calloused and genuine, something she’d learn she couldn’t hide. Not anymore.
Silent allies that were strong apart, but unstoppable together. Their bond protected them and their anger propelled them. Becoming an active part of a revolution they craved was only natural. Her stay in the Capitol broke her in ways she couldn’t even begin to describe, but from the moment the Rebels had rescued her and the others she began to see hope again.
And then he was gone. And she was angry. At him. How could he have been so foolish? He had a young, hardly stable wife to protect. He had responsibilities and he had continued to risk his life. She’d always swore his passion would get him killed. And she had been right. But he had died an honorable death, at least that’s what everyone said. But what does everyone know? Many tributes had died “honorable” deaths as well, but death was still dead. Still gone.
She’d watched Annie and the others mourn in their own way and she felt for them. But she’d been numb for the first few weeks. It wasn’t until she ended up back at home, back in District Seven. After the war was over. Casualties were counted. Coin was dead. Life was slowly starting to get back to normal. That’s when she cracked. He was gone. Her alliance. Her confidant. Her equal. Her friend.
We have no choice. She has to know. We have to trust that they can take care of themselves. It is not up to us to save them.
So I guess this is where I tell you what I learned - my conclusion, right? Well, my conclusion is: Hate is baggage. Life’s too short to be pissed off all the time. It’s just not worth it. Derek says it’s always good to end a paper with a quote. He says someone else has already said it best. So if you can’t top it, steal from them and go out strong. So I picked a guy I thought you’d like. ‘We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.’
friendly reminder that cary fukunaga (sin nombre, jane eyre, true detective) is a total babe