quietkindandbrave:

Madge decided to let his comment about love slip her mind, not wanting to go into an argument about that, because it was partly trough, she believed in love but in her case it was also her weakest point. The constant battle between whether to believe that Gale truly loved her or that he still had and eye for his best friend was still a gnawing on her and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. ” You do have something in common with him, you both despise the government and are kinda of rebels with a cause. Something that made me want to talk to you in the first place, because you two seem alike whether you see it or not…” 

She shuddered at the thought of Cato killing people and involunatirly stepped away, the thought of him actually enjoying killing people made her stomach turn and she glanced at him with a skeptical look in her eyes, ” I’m glad his kill was swift then.” 

Cato saw her visibly flinch at his words, now wasn’t that a predicament, Madge seeming to hold affection towards Katniss’s play thing. Or at least that was how it appeared to all those who were the onlookers to Katniss’s particular lifestyle. Love had brought nothing but agony in Cato’s life, having watched Clove die twice at fate’s cruel hand. As though a killer like himself was not allowed love, or perhaps just not on a permanent level. It had nearly destroyed him, driven him mad, and caused a domino effect of bad decisions in his wake.

Cato laughed bitterly, incredulous to believe he could share anything in common with the best friend of fire girl. He shrugged, deducting that what she said was accurate. “Perhaps you speak the truth, although I can assure you I am not one for friendly conversation as you are accustomed to.” He said, knowing from observation of Gale’s cheerful nature and knowing he could never match that sort of optimism. Cato smirked slightly upon her reaction towards his words. A part of him feeling gratified in the fear others felt towards him. He picked his weapons up, testing them from hand to hand before sheathing them out of sight. “Swift is an optimistic way of putting it, but I suppose his death was not as brutal as the other’s before him.”

theboywith—thebread:

Peeta attempted to stop Cato from going near his throat, but the blond Career was much too strong and much too fast. Peeta staggered in his grip, looking around desperately as the cameras trained on his miserable face. His body was failing him, and Peeta nearly fell, taking Cato down with him, but the boy caught himself. Katniss’ face kept flashing in and out of his mind as he struggled to pull himself away. Of course, it was of no use. Peeta knew that he would not have the strength to run, even if he did manage to free himself. He would fall to the ground and be stabbed to death. When the blade was pressed harshly against his throat, Peeta let out a small grunt. When the blade cut, however, Peeta reeled back, his hands grasping at Cato’s wrist. He was too weak to pull the knife away from his throat. As his skin tore under the weight of the knife, Peeta began to choke. Blood gushed from his throat, draining down his shirt and spilling from his mouth. This was it. This was the end of Peeta. He dug his nails into Cato’s wrist and pushed him away with all of the might he could muster, but Cato did not move far. After a moment, Peeta was once again within his grasp. Peeta’s face began to pale after a short period of time, as did the rest of his body. It wasn’t long before he began feeling limp and numb, his precious life source flowing freely from him. Peeta was nearly dead. He began to choke out short sentences, but they were barely audible, as they were drowned in blood. At one point, Peeta successfully whispered Katniss’ name, almost as if he were crying out to her for help. But the hunter did not arrive.

Cato’s eyes burned with rage, the elation of seeing Peeta’s absurd face stained in his own crimson blood. Knowing that he could finally reign down his full vengeance against the one who had taken his life. Perhaps it was Katniss’s arrow that had brought with it’s piercing agony, Cato’s untimely death. But Cato would always would always place full blame on Peeta’s head for his death. After all Cato’s massacre would never have transpired hadn’t Peeta kicked him off Cornucopia in the first place. The boy flailed underneath Cato’s strong grasp like a fish out of water. Although Peeta didn’t seem fully there as if his mind were a thousand miles away. In the heat of the moment Cato found himself rolling his eyes, assuming that lover boy was thinking of his little fire girl instead of saving his own neck. Cato saw a boy so consumed that he seemed to surrender, knowing this boy could not withstand the thunderous strength of Cato’s resolve to kill the baker boy; not leaving his own life in fate’s cruel hands. Previously fate had turned against him leaving him to die just before the victor’s crown was in his hand. Peeta uselessly tried to show Cato’s hands away, though Cato would not be swayed from bringing death to Peeta’s doorstep. Cato found himself laughing harshly as though Peeta in his current state had a single iota hope in of defeating Cato in his prime. Peeta’s futile attempts of resistance felt more like a bug landing on his skin; a slight annoyance but nothing that couldn’t be easily disposed of. Peeta’s blood sprang forth, a satisfying bright red, which stained against Peeta’s skin and also his own. The warm wetness in the already scorching heat sent shocks through Cato’s body, reeling in the anticipation of the soon impending death blow. Cato watched as the light in Peeta’s eyes began to fade in rapid speed, life draining from the boy’s face, Peeta’s lips moving in patterns that could easily be deciphered as utterances of Katniss’s name. Katniss did not come to his aid, no sounds of arrows cutting through the air, no other sounds in all the world but Peeta’s struggle. Cato kept the blade poised along Peeta’s throat, his other hand grasping the long sword in his other hand. “Good bye lover boy.” He said bringing his blade down for the final execution.

(Source: darkandcrypticcato)

theboywith—thebread

Peeta had to run. He had to get away. He could not die and leave Katniss by herself. As mentally broken as Katniss was, Peeta did not believe she would make it out without his protection. Of course, she was quite a bit stronger than Peeta, himself. Tearing the knife from his shoulder, with a loud groan, Peeta began to make his escape again. Instead of throwing the knife to the ground, Peeta turned, hoping to use the weapon to defend himself, however, before he knew it, Peeta’s throat was inches away from a sharp blade. Cato’s wicked voice rang in his ears. Peeta wanted to move, but he was halted, fearing that if he moved, the blade would carve a bright red smile into his throat. He breathed heavily, looking around the arena. Peeta knew the cameras were trained on he and Cato. “Last words?” he asked, gripping onto the blade of the sword. Blood trickled down his palms as he attempted to push the weapon away from his throat. “I don’t…plan on dying any time soon.”

Cato ripped the top of his shirt, trying to get to the row of knives hiding in his shirt pocket before Peeta turned around. Peeta was obsessed with taking care of Katniss even though out of the two of them she seemed like the one who was far better off alone than he was. Cato had always seen Peeta as a weakling, not usually even worth his time. Cato couldn’t restrain his laugh upon seeing Peeta who was nearly dead, a new wound added to his long list of serious injuries attained had the notion to try to attack him. With just a throwing knife against his arsonal of weapons he had right at his fingertips. A quick jerk of his wrist and he could throw a row of knives right into Peeta’s face. Wouldn’t that be a shock to the viewers who thought Peeta immortal for having bested Cato. He would be damned if so puny a substance took his life again. Cato pushed the blade closer to Peeta’s neck, a small line of blood leaving it’s crimson trail upon his skin. He pushed harder into the sword hilt, feeling Peeta’s skin break beneath the blade. Blood rained onto Cato’s cheek, causing him to jerk backwards slightly but not withholding his grip on Peeta’s throat. “No one plans on dying, but you will.”

(Source: darkandcrypticcato)

quietkindandbrave:

Madge winced a bit when she felt his hand gripping hers a little too tight, when he released her hand she quickly stretched out her fingers and looked up to see Cato staring at her with an amused grin, she gave him a forced smile and her eyes kept darting back to the two girls walking down the hallway before they disappeared behind a steel door. She shook her head and focused back on Cato, ” I don’t know, you don’t seem like a follower of the rules, just like Gale, you two could get along… two rebels with a cause.” 

” You were a career.” Madge noted and took a step back to lean against the nearest wall before crossing her arms over her chest as she eyed him up and down, he seemed lost in thought when she had approached him, she had just wanted to ask him for the direction to the nearest cafeteria but now by seeing his posture, she wondered if it had been a good idea to approach him, ” Your friend Marvel killed me in the last games but by seeing your throwing skills, I think I’m glad I didn’t cross your path…”

Cato for the better part of the conversation paid her no heed. It wasn’t as though he were interested in the mousy blonde girl in front of him. He was still baffled as to why she had engaged in conversation with him to begin with. He couldn’t help but stare, he wondered why she so willingly began speaking with him. Most kept away from him, especially those who were in the games with him; those who knew exactly what he was capable of. “Gale, I do not know very much about him, except last I heard he was in line to be the fire girl’s lover boy. I doubt we would have anything in common, love is for the weak.” He said a tone of bitterness tainting his words, love being a feeling that had nearly destroyed him long before the mutts had their fill of him.

Cato clapped mockingly, bowing just at the waist. “Good observation, you would be correct.” He said laughing slightly, it wasn’t as though the entirety of Panem wasn’t aware of just who he was. He zipped up his jacket, hiding the knives from plain sight, even though he wouldn’t careless if anyone saw his weapons, it wasn’t as if anyone would have the bravery to forcefully remove them from his person. He nodded, seeing why her fear of him would be so evident on her face. Marvel was not to be trifled with and yet he was the far more feared career of them all except perhaps by Clove. “You’re right, there are few who saw me and lived to tell of it. Marvel is far more precise in his killings, mine aren’t nearly as swift.”

theboywith—thebread:

Peeta tromped into the woods as quickly as his legs could carry him, which, to his dismay, was not very quickly. His heart was practically beating in his throat as he attempted to make his escape. Surely, he had lost the vicious blond career by now. After a short while, Peeta began to walk rather than run, realizing that he had caused Cato to lose his trail. However, there was always that hint of doubt shrouding the back of his mind. Rather than heading toward the camp, where Katniss lay, asleep, Peeta moved in the opposite direction, hoping to find a lake to cool his burns that had consumed his arms and chest. Rounding a corner, Peeta suddenly felt a sharp and tearing pain in his shoulder. It took him moments to realize what had happened, but it was far too late. He could see Cato charging for him, his eyes gleaming with a bloodthirsty vengeance.

Cato had considered for a moment letting Peeta go, after all his wounds should be enough to make his own bloody demise. He had even begun to walk away from the panting torn up boy behind him, not paying heed at the labored breathing and heavy steps that retreated from behind him. After a moment Cato stopped, remembering a fatal mistake he had made in the last games. He had let Peeta go, once before, reasoning that Peeta would die long before Cato would have to kill him. Cato would not make that mistake again, knowing that a very cocky decision had cost him his life. He would not be killed by that lowly baker boy again, not if he could change his own destiny. Cato shouted at the sky, pushing two rough hands through his sweaty hair. He would not be humiliated, not again. Cato jerked his sword out of it’s sheath, violently chopping down anything that got in his way. Once the knives left his hand, they cut lines through the air, lodging deeply into the boy’s shoulder. Cato waisted no time closing the space between them. He pulled to the forefront, holding it under Peeta’s neck. “Any last words lover boy?”

(Source: darkandcrypticcato)

quietkindandbrave:

Her eyes followed him, walking forward and yanking the knives out of the wall, Madge involuntarily took a step backwards as he approached her, his eyes were narrowed at her and she gulped. She knew who he was, he was thrown into the same Games as her. Friends with the career that killed her, Marvel. Careers were known to be lethal and at this point she didn’t know what his next move was going to be. When he decided to put the knives back into his chest pocket, her muscles react a bit but she was still tense. The girl hunched her shoulders and leaned against the nearest wall, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Trying not to show any fear towards him.

” Probably the rules of the city of Orbis, though I haven’t checked their guidelines yet.” She whispered quietly, trying to break the growing tension in the air. Her eyes darted towards her left when she heard a sound of laughter, her head whipped around, seeing two girls, waving excitedly at the man behind her. She rotated her head again, seems like he still had some fangirls after all that happened. She cleared her throat and extended her hand, waiting for his handshake, ” Since I know your name it’s only fair you know mine right? Madge Undersee, district 12.”

Cato tucked the knives out of sight, keeping his eyes on the glistening metal before dropping his eyes onto the small blonde girl in front of him. He grew curious as to why she wanted to talk to him at all. Most kept their distance and for good reason, the entire world knew of his uncanny ability to kill in seconds. She seemed to watch him carefully, as though she were ready to take off in a single moment if she felt any danger or a possible threat. Every muscle in his body was rigid, an open hostility still present in his features.

Cato lifted an eyebrow, his hand clenched around the invisible end of a sword. Sometimes his hand feeling naked without a sword, the cold steel reassuring and familiar between his fingers. Smaller knives were nearly the same, the hilt rough as the calluses after years of use. He would not be permitted to carry a sword but he could much more easily conceal a set of knives. He jerked his head to the side, looking her straight in the eyes. “Do you believe that I care about rules? Especially after yet another take over government decides to reign over us.” He said off handedly more to himself than to her. Cato’s eyes turned as he heard laughter and an outburst of love. He was familiar with these sorts of fans, especially after his bloody reign over the arena these past games. He smirked, shooting them the absolute smile of the devil. They squealed in delight passing him by. A mixture of charm and steel were his constant companions, and that is what made people fear him. They never knew what to expect with him and that is exactly how he liked it. He glanced at her hand, shrugging his shoulder. What was the hurt? He gave her a firm handshake, nodding. “Nice you meet you I guess.”

simplymarvel-ous:

Well um…

Come Marvel, you know you can tell me.

(via nothing-but-a-beauty-deactivate)

simplymarvel-ous:

I’m a busy man.

Busy in what way?

(via nothing-but-a-beauty-deactivate)

quietkindandbrave:

A blonde girl quietly wandered around in the hallways where she was staying, trying to find some sort of entertainment for the day. Everyone she knew was either occupied by something or weren’t in the mood to go look what she was searching for. Madge sighed when she passed a couple of citizens and they gave her vacant smiles, looking at her if she came from another world. Madge had grown used to it by now, the stares, the hushed whispering as she passed by them. After all she was one of the many people that was brought back to life. A sight you don’t see every day.

She turned around a corner, taking a sharp left, greeting one of the familiar faces with a small smile when her eye fell upon a blonde boy at the end of the hallway. Madge hesitated for a second, debating to pad away in the other direction or to approach him, hunching her shoulders she stepped towards him, he was sitting down, chucking a knife in the wall in front of him, ” I don’t think you’re allowed to do that Cato…”

Cato found himself out of place, no matter where he went he was followed by nervous glances; anyone in his vicinity leaving him a wide berth. It was as though they thought he would snap their necks if they looked at him the wrong way. As soon as he had awoken his rage had subsided slightly, replaced by determination to make the capital pay for the agony they had caused him for their own entertainment. He would make his own decisions, not for his district, not for his parents, not for his mentor but for himself. He had never been granted that state of mind, and it still felt foreign to him that he could possibly live just for himself. And further more that living was even an option, possibly no more pain.

Cato kept some of Clove’s knives in his shirt pocket, keeping them close to his chest so he could pull them out if he ever needed them. Whenever he found himself absent-mindedly lost in thought he would take the knives hurling them into the nearest wall. He had become rather good at it since his awakening. He awaited Clove’s return and his other careers, unsure if they would be able to bring them back. he noticed from the corner of his eye a blonde girl approaching him. He sighed, his eyes unmoving from the wall of perfectly thrown knives. He jerked his head towards her, a scoff escaping his lips. “Is that so? By whose rules exactly?” He said walking forward, twisting his hands around the knives and yanking them out sharply. he lined them back in it’s container, keeping a sharp eye on the girl.

(via mizanins-mike-deactivated201302)