Mass release: 14/16
※※※※※※
Lovise Holst-Mathiasen
✵ ✵ ✵
"C'mon, lazy asses, wake up," I woke the boys, both jumping startled. "It's 6 am, where do you think you are? Wake up, lazy bones. You have an hour to get ready before they come to get us for breakfast with the other tributes."
"What… what?" Timmy choked on nothing.
"That's never been a thing, Love, let me sleep," Jose groaned.
"If you wake up right now, I'll sleep with you tonight, but just sleep harmlessly," I bargained with him and he jumped from the bed right away, shirtless, only in black joggers, and I couldn't help gawking at his torso, toned enough to prove that he's trained to fight. "That's my good puppy."
"Ugh, not at this hours, guys, come on," Timmy cried.
"No kiss of good morning, Love?" Jose pouted.
"Wash your teeth and take a bath, then I'll give you a kiss, puppy."
Pouting, he strode inside the bathroom and locked the door, and in second the shower was turned on. "And he says he ain't tamed," Timmy mocked, rolling his eyes. "I hope he takes his time so I can sleep more."
"You ain't sleeping a second more, baby boy," I took his blanket off of him and he cried. "Come on, you have to look pretty for our encounter with our enemies. Let me make you look menacing."
He gasped, "M-Menacing? Me?"
"Honor your Russian ancestor, baby boy, they were some of the most menacing people on earth according to the books I read, together with the Scandinavians, aka my people. We're are a duo, not a trio, so it's just you and me. Wolf boy is on us, but he ain't an ally, and he won't be with us in the games, yeah?"
"Are you sure? I think he's in love with you," he mocked.
"He's not, he's just playing. He's not the type to get attached that easily, he just like to be with somebody, to be caressed and held like that, and to kiss," I told him, sure of every word.
"But he was jealous yesterday," he scoffed.
"No, he wasn't," I tilted my head. "He was just playing, pretending to be to take my mind off of bad thoughts and memories. He may seem like the dumb type of guy, but he's perceptive, whenever he notices my tone changing to a slightly self-deprecating one, he threw a naughty joke."
"You still think he could he a sociopath?" Timmy whispered.
"No. Initially? Yes. Now? No, he just has a strong personality, and potential to be a eye-catching supporting character in this game's season, in my team, and he definitely ain't a fan of Haynes. Which is expected, since the Haynes were the one to kill the last three tributes of his area, even if they were not related to him, that made his family self-conscious. And if there is something he cares about the most, is his family. He'll kill anyone to protect them, and I respect that. He's the loyal type. Much like a wolf."
"How can you be so good at reading people?"
"It's a gift, baby boy."
After second, he asked, "What weapons are you good at, Love?"
Covering the microphone in mine and his necklace, I moved my lips soundlessly, "Knives, axe, archery, sword, hammer, poison," then I freed them. "I can only fight with the axe," I said with a sound, and his eyes widened softly.
Understanding what to do, since he's a smart boy, "You're not good with the archery?" He asked, feigning ignorance to what I first said. "Ain't that the specialty of the Mathiasen? Axe sounds kind of barbaric."
I winked at him discreetly, "Greta cut me off of the family before I could learn it, saying I would die either way. And what's wrong with being barbaric?" I grinned like a viper. "It's a traditional weapon of my ancestors in the Scandinavian mythology, the Vikings. Their tales were incredible, bloody, and really gave meaning to the word barbaric. It was so legendary and old that even a millennial ago, those were already tales, from a long and bloody past."
"Your mind is an archive, Love, Gods above," he gasped. "You've read all those old world and new world history books that we haven't even heard off, and you memorized it all enough to be able to repass them. A born story-teller. I bet everyone was toned into the camera that was on you, just to listen all your story."
"The cameras were all turned to me, so, that's probable," I scoffed, and then grabbed him up from the bed. "C'mon, baby boy, get up, you're too old to be sleeping so much. You can sleep as much as you want when you die, decades in the future from now, yeah? So, let's wake up."
"But wolf boy will take a year in the bathroom," he groaned.
"There are two bathrooms in here," I winked at him and pushed him inside the second one. "The difference is that this has a bathtub and the other one has the walk-in shower." I pointed at the black towel, "Use that one, I set mine at the edge of my bed, and puppy will use the one in the second bathroom," then I closed the door. "You have half an hour!"
"A bathtub," he squeaked from inside. "If I'm dreaming don't wake me up, Gods, oh my Gods, I never saw one in real life, I,"
"And the water is hot. Thirty minutes, baby boy!"
A cry came from the inside, "This bitch is fucking boiling! What in the actual fuck? Motherfucking bitch. Are they trying to cook someone?"
Seems like he can curse. I couldn't help laughing, "You have to adjust the temperature, baby boy, there are two knobs, one for cold and the other for hot water, turn both on, and control how warm or cold or natural you want it to be."
"Fuck, I love you, Love, you're the motherfucking best!"
"I am, aren't I?" I beamed with a smug.
"The best!" He yelled.
"I know."
Smiling, I turned around and went to the couch-ish storage in front of my bed, where they had filled with some black clothes for me, pants, shorts, knee and ankle-high combat boots with and without platforms, black socks, tank tops with and without sleeves, shirts, and five different corsets, plus twenty pairs of cotton matching black underwear, leggings, training tops, runner shoes, and seven different pajamas short and long-sleeved. Oh, three flip-flops and four belts of different widths. Everything black.
There is also a jewelry box full of silver and obsidian jewels.
After I bathed earlier, I picked the high-waist black leather pant, a long-sleeved shirt that leaves my collarbones and shoulders in display, one of the ankle-high combat boots with a platform that adds almost 10cm to my 1.70m, and I styled my hair by making many small braids, deciding to adopt the hair style of my Viking ancestors that I once read in a book about. Then I added a necklace with an obsidian snake in it, with it's matching earrings, bracelet on my right wrist, and a snake ring on my left ring finger.
Before waking the boys I had also used the eyeliner I found in the bathroom, the mascara, and the, surprisingly, dark red lipstick, which was the color I needed, given how pale my skin naturally is. Unfortunately, I'm the type to get strawberry-red and burn under the sun, not tanned, it's a thing I always envied of auntie Jo, she is able to have the perfect tan skin with just some hours in the sun. I get… red.