Novel & Cerita White Rose In Hunger Games

"Oh, Carlo. Look at me. Take a good look... Whose wedding do you think this is? This is my wedding. Mine, and I'll be marrying Luca. And you? You're just a madman crashing someone else's wedding." His smile froze. Tears rolled down his face. "No… It's not true… Rosa, you love me…" I dropped the wilted roses at his feet. "You're wrong. I did love you...but that was in another life. You murdered that love with your own hands, and my life along with it. All I have for you in this life is hate." I took Luca's arm and walked past Carlo without looking back. His cries echoed behind me, but none of that mattered to me anymore.

“While you were away. Lord Rustyn. He brought something from Lady Celia and the queen.” My jaw tightens. But my eyes are on the roses. Even in winter, the cursed things bloom. Blue roses that climb the black stone walls, their petals sharp against the frost. They wither and bloom in ghostly cycles, yet never touch the ground. Always vanishing midair, leaving behind only that sweet and rotten scent. It clings to your throat, making you feel the misery etched deep within it. “Rogues?” I ask, eyes narrowing on a cluster of petals curling into vapor.

can I watch my kingdom being consumed by the enemy and flooded with shouting and blood? I got up and headed to the small table where my black cloak with the bloody rose pin was. My symbolism. My hand trembled as I caressed it. It was momentarily hit by the sunlight that penetrated the curtain of the window of the hut causing it to sparkle in my eyes for a moment. My symbolism is the sign to everyone that I am their princess holding the power of the blood pink. By the time all the red roses in our whole kingdom die it only indicates that I have left.

Which was likely, considering how he’d fingered me in that hospital bed like I was one of his usual romps and I’d threatened to bite a chunk out of his flesh. Hopefully, he didn’t know that I’d actually liked it quite a lot, and that last night, I’d even woken up from a dream so wet that I’d had to sneak out my vibrator and relieve myself. I cleared my throat. “I want this one,” I said, walking up to join Zelda at the window. Below, the gardens were on full display in all of their morning glory, golden sunlight almost making the white rose bushes look like they were glowing from within. The roses changed color as they spiraled outward around the pebbled pathways, ranging from white to pink a

The scent of roses clung to the air, thick and sweet, but there was nothing gentle in the garden where Serenya had been cast. The blossoms were not flowers at all—at least not natural ones. Their crimson petals shone faintly under moonlight, shimmering with a sheen like wet blood. Their thorns were long, curved like hooks, and when she reached too close to push aside a vine, it snapped forward, drawing a line of red across her wrist.

“That’s how you survived. The Moonrose. Tell me—what does it actually do?” He gave a dry chuckle, pride bleeding through his ancient voice. “The roses come in pairs. I have the white one. Kiran has the black—far more powerful, but dangerous. Like soulmates, these roses are bound. Mine has kept me alive. More than that—I am the rose now. I don’t just use its power. I am its vessel.” Without another word, I unsheathed my blade and sliced my palm. Blood welled and dripped into the ceremonial bowl. Rhaegos, resigned, did the same. Our blood swirled together—ancient, powerful, defiant.

With a stern voice, Minerva also reminded me, that she understood the fear of losing someone became a part of my heart. "I know, but I can't shake it. It still lingers." With a defeated sigh, I cried on Yuna's lap. "I hate this feeling." "I know you do so; use this rose." Yuna sighed and offered me the rose that Roxanne took from their old house. I looked at her confused, but she smiled and added. "Roxanne's blood runs in you, which made you an Escoffier."

Layla pulled my hand, trying to get me to stay with her. "Honey? What's going on? Are you not happy to see me? Who is she?" She questioned. I turned and looked at her. After seeing my mate, Layla is nothing compaired to her. Alexandria had long, brown hair with beautiful hazel eyes. Layla had short blonde hair and brown eyes. Her face was always caked in makeup. "She's-" I started, but Layla interuppted me.

He said and chuckled. "No, Obviously No." She said while rolling her eyes. "Now, let me pluck the thorn out of your back." She continued and observed that a large thorn has punctured his back with a large stem and few petals of a dark red rose similar to black shade. "It's okay darlo. The person should not be afraid of thorns if they crave for roses." He said while Irina plucked out the penetrated stem of a rose. He acted to hiss in a pain.

I hear the sickening crunch of the rogue’s spine up against the tree and I know that he won't survive. I rip the throat out of another rogue that comes towards me and I toss his lifeless body to the side. My muzzle is covered in blood and the scent of iron fills my senses. Just as I am about to attack another rogue, the scent of roses cuts through the air. It blocks out the smell of blood and rogues that is thick in the air and all I can think about is Keena. Lifting my nose to the air, I try to find the direction of the scent. Looking towards the royal mansion I see the Princess standing on the porch with balls of flames in her hands.