Warmblood now a bloodborne death, Will rob your body of it's breath Mark your skin and seal your fate The Underland becomes a plate

Embrace the probability of your imminent death....and know there is nothing i can do to save you.

So Haymitch, what do you think of the games have one hundred percent more competitors than usual?” asks Caesar. Haymitch shrugs. “I don’t see that it makes that much difference. They’ll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same.

Sometimes when I'm alone, I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena.

It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death.

I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips.

Poison. The perfect weapon for a snake.