vulpes vulpes victorious
470 words. PG.
Foxface.
Summary: Her name is Astra Kit, and she is a thief.
Note: For THG ficathon. Um, I'm still kind of trying to get my footing with THG fic but hopefully getting better at it!
Her name is Astra Kit, and she is a thief.
Foxface, someone calls her - the drunk from District 12. Foxface, and it sticks. Her features are slim and pointed, her hair brashly red. Livia, her stylist, develops an elaborate braid that makes two pointed, overlapping ears on top of her head, dyes the tips black. She wears black elbow-length gloves in her interview with Caesar Flickerman and ginger furs around her throat. They like the nickname because it has mystery and legend, because people see the shape of the fox in her face and body and how she won, sneaky and secretive and sly. It never makes any sense to her, though, because the foxes she knows are desert-gray and dusty and they only want to eat.
She knows the truth, that she is not particularly smart or cunning, only good at stealing. It's almost funny. If the Capitol knew how much she'd stolen from the land they let her live on, she'd be shot up or have her tongue ripped out. But she stole her way out of the arena and now she's getting all kinds of prizes. Astra - no, Foxface, Astra ended the moment her name was read aloud in a Capitol accent. Astra Kit and Tex Carson. They're both dead.
(Everyone knew everyone in Five, and she knew Tex was an asshole. He'd gotten too forceful with a girl in his class and Foxface is glad he's dead.)
Before she was dead, Astra was a thief. She stole from markets and people and homes, slipped in and out of windows, picked locks and pockets. She stole food, she stole money, she stole precious things and sold them. Her father was old, older than most of the men in Five who had children her age, and he was ill and could not work. Astra stole so that she wouldn't starve and she never felt guilt over it. Never.
She finds herself doing it on the Victory Tour too, even though she doesn't need to. She steals a little something from every place they go, builds a collection of Panem tokens in the trunk they had made for her - petrified wood engraved with foxes. She doesn't know why she does it. She just feels a need to collect things. She wishes she had something from the arena, an acorn or a sprig of nightlock berries. They'd been very helpful to her.
For the party in the Capitol, Livia paints her fox red from head to toe, her forearms black like paws and long sharp black nails glued atop her own. Her eyes stare out at her strangely from the deep wells of black and red surrounding them, hazel eyes that are utterly unfamiliar to her now. She doesn't even see herself. It's just Foxface.
470 words. PG.
Foxface.
Summary: Her name is Astra Kit, and she is a thief.
Note: For THG ficathon. Um, I'm still kind of trying to get my footing with THG fic but hopefully getting better at it!
Her name is Astra Kit, and she is a thief.
Foxface, someone calls her - the drunk from District 12. Foxface, and it sticks. Her features are slim and pointed, her hair brashly red. Livia, her stylist, develops an elaborate braid that makes two pointed, overlapping ears on top of her head, dyes the tips black. She wears black elbow-length gloves in her interview with Caesar Flickerman and ginger furs around her throat. They like the nickname because it has mystery and legend, because people see the shape of the fox in her face and body and how she won, sneaky and secretive and sly. It never makes any sense to her, though, because the foxes she knows are desert-gray and dusty and they only want to eat.
She knows the truth, that she is not particularly smart or cunning, only good at stealing. It's almost funny. If the Capitol knew how much she'd stolen from the land they let her live on, she'd be shot up or have her tongue ripped out. But she stole her way out of the arena and now she's getting all kinds of prizes. Astra - no, Foxface, Astra ended the moment her name was read aloud in a Capitol accent. Astra Kit and Tex Carson. They're both dead.
(Everyone knew everyone in Five, and she knew Tex was an asshole. He'd gotten too forceful with a girl in his class and Foxface is glad he's dead.)
Before she was dead, Astra was a thief. She stole from markets and people and homes, slipped in and out of windows, picked locks and pockets. She stole food, she stole money, she stole precious things and sold them. Her father was old, older than most of the men in Five who had children her age, and he was ill and could not work. Astra stole so that she wouldn't starve and she never felt guilt over it. Never.
She finds herself doing it on the Victory Tour too, even though she doesn't need to. She steals a little something from every place they go, builds a collection of Panem tokens in the trunk they had made for her - petrified wood engraved with foxes. She doesn't know why she does it. She just feels a need to collect things. She wishes she had something from the arena, an acorn or a sprig of nightlock berries. They'd been very helpful to her.
For the party in the Capitol, Livia paints her fox red from head to toe, her forearms black like paws and long sharp black nails glued atop her own. Her eyes stare out at her strangely from the deep wells of black and red surrounding them, hazel eyes that are utterly unfamiliar to her now. She doesn't even see herself. It's just Foxface.