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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

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Elllow! Today’s bookcomb consists of Peeta being protective of Katniss. Could have been much more implied moments but here’s some explicit ones 🤗

But it’s too late to run. I pull a slimy arrow from the sheath and try to position it on the bowstring but instead of one string I see three and the stench from the stings is so repulsive I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it.

I’m helpless as the first hunter crashes through the trees, spear lifted, poised to throw. The shock on Peeta’s face makes no sense to me. I wait for the blow. Instead his arm drops to his side.

“What are you still doing here?” he hisses at me. I stare uncomprehendingly as a trickle of water drips off a sting under his ear. His whole body starts sparkling as if he’s been dipped in dew. “Are you mad?” He’s prodding me with the shaft of the spear now. “Get up! Get up!” I rise, but he’s still pushing at me. What? What is going on? He shoves me away from him hard. “Run!” he screams. “Run!”

I trip and fall into a small pit lined with tiny orange bubbles that hum like the tracker jacker nest. Tucking my knees up to my chin, I wait for death.

Sick and disoriented, I’m able to form only one thought: Peeta Mellark just saved my life.

I jump as Peeta grips my shoulder from behind. “No,” he says. “You’re not risking your life for me.”

“Who said I was?” I say.

“So, you’re not going?” he asks.

“Of course, I’m not going. Give me some credit.”

Anger flushes my face. “All right, I am going, and you can’t stop me!”

“I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I’m yelling your name, I bet someone can find me. And then I’ll be dead for sure,” he says.

“You won’t get a hundred yards from here on that leg,” I say.

“Then I’ll drag myself,” says Peeta. “You go and I’m going, too.”

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building.

Peeta steps up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offers me a hand while he scans the square. I’m halfway up when he suddenly blocks my way. “Get down. Get out of here!” He’s whispering, but his voice is harsh with insistence.

“What?” I say, trying to force my way back up.

“Go home, Katniss! I’ll be there in a minute, I swear!” he says.

“He was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man.

“He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.”

When we’re outside, I turn to Peeta. “You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob.”

“I’ll go with you,” he says.

“No. I’ve dragged you into enough trouble,” I tell him.

“And avoiding a stroll by the Hob . . . that’s going to fix things for me?” He smiles and takes my hand. Together we wind through the streets of the Seam until we reach the burning building.

“Peeta’s argument is that since I chose you, I now owe him. Anything he wants. And what he wants is the chance to go in again to protect you,” says Haymitch.

I knew it. In this way, Peeta’s not hard to predict. While I was wallowing around on the floor of that cellar, thinking only of myself, he was here, thinking only of me. Shame isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel.

“You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know,” Haymitch says.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say brusquely. “No question, he’s the superior one in this trio. So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Haymitch sighs. “Go back in with you maybe, if I can. If my name’s drawn at the reaping, it won’t matter. He’ll just volunteer to take my place.”

The reaping takes only a minute. Effie, shining in a wig of metallic gold, lacks her usual verve. She has to claw around the girls’ reaping ball for quite a while to snag the one piece of paper that everyone already knows has my name on it. Then she catches Haymitch’s name. He barely has time to shoot me an unhappy look before Peeta has volunteered to take his place.

“And I’m not saying I’m not going to try. To get you home, I mean. But if I’m perfectly honest about it. . .”

“If you’re perfectly honest about it, you think President Snow has probably given them direct orders to make sure we die in the arena anyway,” I say.

“It’s crossed my mind,” says Peeta.

I check over my weapons, which I know are in perfect condition, because it makes me seem more in control. “I’ll take the lead,” I announce.

Peeta starts to object but Finnick cuts him off. “No, let her do it.”

No one’s thrilled with the idea of me going off alone, but the threat of dehydration hangs over us.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go far,” I promise Peeta.

“I’ll go, too,” he says.

“No, I’m going to do some hunting if I can,” I tell him. I don’t add, “And you can’t come because you’re too loud.” But it’s implied. He would both scare off prey and endanger me with his heavy tread. “I won’t be long.”

Nothing. I find nothing. Not so much as a dewdrop. Eventually, because I know Peeta will be worried about me, I head back to the camp, hotter and more frustrated than ever.

I know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently.

While Johanna collects water and my arrows, Beetee fiddles with his wire, and Finnick takes to the water. I need to clean up, too, but I stay in Peeta’s arms, still too shaken to move.

This is when Beetee reveals the rest of the plan. Since we move most swiftly through the trees, he wants Johanna and me to take the coil down through the jungle, unwinding the wire as we go. We are to lay it across the twelve o’clock beach and drop the metal spool, with whatever is left, deep into the water, making sure it sinks. Then run for the jungle. If we go now, right now, we should make it to safety.

“I want to go with them as a guard,” Peeta says immediately. After the moment with the pearl, I know he’s less willing than ever to let me out of his sight.

I’m so light-headed I’ll black out in a matter of minutes. I’ve got to get away from this tree and —

“Katniss!” I hear his voice though he’s a far distance away. But what is he doing? Peeta must have figured out that everyone is hunting us by now. “Katniss!”

Caesar leans in to him a little. “I think it was clear to all of us what your plan was. To sacrifice yourself in the arena so that Katniss Everdeen and your child could survive.”

“That was it. Clear and simple.” Peeta’s fingers trace the upholstered pattern on the arm of the chair.

A hush has fallen over the room, and I can feel it spreading across Panem. A nation leaning in toward its screens. Because no one has ever talked about what it’s really like in the arena before.

Peeta goes on. “So you hold on to your wish. And that last night, yes, my wish was to save Katniss.”

“When that wire was cut, everything just went insane. I can only remember bits and pieces. Trying to find her. Watching Brutus kill Chaff. Killing Brutus myself. I know she was calling my name. Then the lightning bolt hit the tree, and the force field around the arena . . . blew out.”

“Katniss blew it out, Peeta,” says Caesar. “You’ve seen the footage.”

“She didn’t know what she was doing. None of us could follow Beetee’s plan. You can see her trying to figure out what to do with that wire,” Peeta snaps back.

Peeta’s on his feet, leaning in to Caesar’s face, hands locked on the arms of his interviewer’s chair. “Really? And was it part of her plan for Johanna to nearly kill her? For that electric shock to paralyze her? To trigger the bombing?” He’s yelling now. “She didn’t know, Caesar! Neither of us knew anything except that we were trying to keep each other alive!”

Caesar places his hand on Peeta’s chest in a gesture that’s both self-protective and conciliatory. “Okay, Peeta, I believe you.”

Gale’s expression darkens. “Peeta might have done a lot of damage tonight. Most of the rebels will dismiss what he said immediately, of course. But there are districts where the resistance is shakier. The cease-fire’s clearly President Snow’s idea. But it seems so reasonable coming out of Peeta’s mouth.”

I’m afraid of Gale’s answer, but I ask anyway. “Why do you think he said it?”

“He might have been tortured. Or persuaded. My guess is he made some kind of deal to protect you. He’d put forth the idea of the cease-fire if Snow let him present you as a confused pregnant girl who had no idea what was going on when she was taken prisoner by the rebels. This way, if the districts lose, there’s still a chance of leniency for you. If you play it right.” I must still look perplexed because Gale delivers the next line very slowly. “Katniss . . . he’s still trying to keep you alive.”

To keep me alive? And then I understand. The Games are still on. We have left the arena, but since Peeta and I weren’t killed, his last wish to preserve my life still stands. His idea is to have me lie low, remain safe and imprisoned, while the war plays out. Then neither side will really have cause to kill me. And Peeta? If the rebels win, it will be disastrous for him. If the Capitol wins, who knows? Maybe we’ll both be allowed to live — if I play it right — to watch the Games go on. . . .

Caesar and Peeta have a few empty exchanges before Caesar asks him about rumors that I’m taping propos for the districts.

“They’re using her, obviously,” says Peeta. “To whip up the rebels. I doubt she even really knows what’s going on in the war. What’s at stake.”

He asks Peeta if, given tonight’s demonstration, he has any parting thoughts for Katniss Everdeen.

At the mention of my name, Peeta’s face contorts in effort. “Katniss . . . how do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts. And you . . . in Thirteen . . .” He inhales sharply, as if fighting for air; his eyes look insane. “Dead by morning!”

“Katniss!” He whips his head toward me but doesn’t seem to notice my bow, the waiting arrow. “Katniss! Get out of here!”

I hesitate. His voice is alarmed, but not insane. “Why? What’s making that sound?”

“I don’t know. Only that it has to kill you,” says Peeta. “Run! Get out! Go!”

#everlark #thg #hunger games #thgagain #Peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #bookcomb ♥️🔎

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ellanainthetardis · 4 years

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Hi :) I’m know you’ve written fics where both happen but out of curiosity, in movie!verse (which admittedly I mostly ignore hahah) do you hc effie would move to 12 when Peeta moves back? Would it have been as difficult for her to live in the capitol if she was known to have been the escort that sided with the rebellion rather than the one that everyone thought was the enemy? What do you think would be her prompt to realise she’d rather be with haymitch when it’s not her PTSD like in book!verse?

MMM that’s a very interesting question I rarely touch movie!verse post MJ. I’m not entirely a fan of a “stay sober” Haymitch (at least not until a few years down the line when he might make the decision to cut out himself, bc it wasn’t his choice to get sober in MJ and I feel like he wouldn’t stick to it but I digress). As for Effie, it’s hard to tell. I love EB to death and I love her portrayal of Effie but the way they used Effie in MJ... I can’t really get behind it. She’s acting like her most flamboyant spoiled brat self all MJ 1&2 and 13 never puts her back in her place. I’d have liked to see a transposition of the scenes with the prep teams, for instance, or something that would confront her to reality, instead I got customized uniform book!13 would never have allowed and random comic relief.

Anyway. Back to to topic. Two options, I think. Either we consider purely movie!canon and we decides they started hooking up in 13, so when he says don’t be a stranger maybe he means that but she doesn’t take it to mean “please move in ily” bc they don’t have the “history” so to speak. In which case, I will lean more toward something where she stays in the city and take a job with Plutarch, basically filling out Fluvia’s role, by becoming his Chief of Staff or something. I do think she has the skills to go into politics, maybe not as a face but as a PR or yeah, chief of staff, or something like that. Higher up but behind the throne, you see?

Since she joined the rebellion after the Quell and was quite publicly the Mockingjay’s escort during the war, I think most rebels would be satisfied with that and maybe conclude she’s been a part of the rebellion for longer than anyone realized and she wouldn’t deny it so... She would be okay with them, maybe even well considered... I do think she would be in hotter waters with the Capitols but since Capitols invented the game, they would pretend and be very hypocretical bc they want to survive and, while she wouldn’t believe a word or a smile and watch for the knife in her back, she would go along with the charade.

I think she could make a successful career out of that. A career she enjoys even, because her brain would be put to use for once. And since she wouldn’t be as jadded by the war, I don’t see her ambition being put in check. I guess she would be in relationship with Haymitch but it would be long distance. Holidays, the occasional week-end in 12 or the city...

Maybe it works out well, at first, because Haymitch isn’t used to having someone romatincally around and that’s a good transition but after a while, I do think he would get in a frame of mind where he wants something more stable and it might put tensions on their relationship a few years down the line...

I’m a romantic and I love them so I want to think they would make it but I’m not sure how much a fling that started in MJ with the movie!characterisation would really work out. Either she quits and move to 12 (but she’s so ambitious and if her career is really working well, it seems ooc) or Haymitch moves to the city (which is NOT happening) or they find some sort of in-between solution where she takes a political role as a delegate in 12 or something...

Second, option (my default when I play in movie!verse) we consider a hybrid of (what we think is) book!canon and movie!canon for Effie. We consider Effie has a lot of character development pre 74th and is fully aware of the states by the time Katniss pulls out the poisonned berries and isn’t as clueless during the Tour and etc as she pretends to be on screen. So when she arrives in 13 she’s DEEPLY unhappy about having been “kidnapped” (probably bc if Haymitch had asked, she would simply have said yes), really upset by the rebels failing to rescue Peeta and mostly worried because she’s not stupid enough not to see she’s not welcome. She’s basically durmped into the enemy’s den and Haymitch isn’t even around to protect her (bc he’s in withdrawals). I like to consider book!13 when I write that verse and pretend movie!13 doesn’t exist, so she would also be “a fish out of water” - as was promised when MJ1 came out. I also like to have her wear the real uniform for that reason, I think it’s important for someone like her who always means to stand out to be forced into the ranks, because it would play on her mind and that’s interesting.

Anyway, book!hayffie do seem to have more history regardless of if you think they were having an affair before 74th or not. They have all those “of one mind” thing and conspiracy in elevators... They do seem to have a more... real equal working relationship, meanwhile in the movie, it seems Haymitch is doing all the work.... So if we take that into account, I think, in that hybrid idea, Effie would stick with Haymitch and remain his escort (and Kat’s obviously) in 13 so she’s more involved despite the hostility she triggers. Her being more involved means she gets to see more of the horrors happening in Command. She would also, I think, be tired by all the years of dead kids. That’s something that would sit heavily on her and I’m not sure book!Effie shrugs it off as easily as movie!Effie does...

What I like with movie!Effie though, is that she develops a real nice relationship with Katniss. That, we do lack in the books. And I really like that because I think it might come to play a role post MJ.

Of course, when we consider post MJ we have to decide what to do there too. I don’t like the movie!MJ ending XD I don’t like that Katniss isn’t hurt/addicted and I don’t like that they ship her off right after the murder. I like the whole “suicidal/withdrawal/trial” thing better. There is SO MUCH happening beyond her room during those weeks (months?) and that’s what’s interesting because I think that’s when hayffie’s fate is decided. (either they implode in book!verse - for a little while - or they seal the fact they want to be together for hybrid movie!verse)

Anyway, if we consider the hybrid version of Effie (movie!verse but with book background and the idea that the affair didn’t in fact begin in 13) I think it’s possible she just might be exhausted and disgusted by all the politics and worried about the children enough that she would just come to 12 with Peeta. To test the water. Also she knows her feelings, she’s mostly confident Haymitch does love her, she probably simply isn’t sure he’s actually ready to have her around him 24/24 in his house.

I mean if she and Haymitch had been dancing around the casual/not so casual thing for years, she might want to take a shot at being steady, committted while he’s miraculously willing. I can see it as a natural progress of their relationship assuming they took a big step in 13 (either by openly sharing a compartment even if it’s not official like I like to hc or even just by not systematically denying when someone assumes they’re together or even - which I think is plausible - by having an actual convo where she puts it on the table that she wants more and he actually awkwardly reassures her that he does have feelings - even if the words aren’t said yet...).

Now if they just started hooking up in 13, I don’t think she would show up with Peeta because there wouldn’t be all the developped intimacy and trust that they need. They both have huge trust and intimacy issues. Haymitch more than Effie, granted, but I don’t think she’s the kind of girl who would drop everything to follow a guy without being 100% certain he loves her without question. She’s a romantic, no questions, but she’s also pragmatic. I’m not sure we get those conditions with movie!hayffie.

ALSO I realize this is all my hc and basically book!verse doesn’t give us much more to go on but I really do believe with all my heart the only reason Haymitch would be open to having a romantic (committed) relationship post MJ (and take a shot at sobriety on top of it) is because of Effie, of their long complicated affair and because he realized he loved her a little too late. Two things in movie verse: either they were hooking up and he doesn’t have the *gasp she’s in the Capitol’s hands, I lost her, shit I love her don’t I?” reveal (although I guess we can still have him start realizing during VT and go from there) so the knowledge he actually wants her in his life full time is slower to come OR they start hooking up in MJ and he doesn’t have the years of denial and tentative repressed feelings so I’m not sure how we go from him being a hermit to him wanting to be committed to someone he was sure he disliked even though he was fond of her.

And she might have the same doubts. Basically a movie!hayffie relationship would have a lot of things to work out. But the thing with movie!hayffie is that Haymitch backstory isn’t explained (is it? I don’t remember. I blacked out most of the things I was disappointed about and boy was I disappointed with the Finnick reveal scene) and Effie’s background is very unexplored so it’s kind of sandbox. I’m too fixed in my own hc and visions of the characters by now but someone else might come up with very various backstories and backgrounds and make it work better than I could maybe...

If you read all that rambling and made sense of it, I give you a golden star. Maybe I’m way off base though. It’s been a while since I watched the movies. I really didn’t like MJ1 and 2 much. There were stuff I liked, some scenes, mostly papa!H and mama!E, obviously I enjoyed the hayffie... But idk, 13 is too different from what I pictured, not strict enough, and I’m irked every time Coin gives Katniss a peptalk that should have come from Haymitch. The lack of Haymitch is also annoying to me. He’s supposed to be a key player and he’s just in the background. Even Effie is more useful, I feel.

Anyway, see how my brain works? You ask a question and it jumps in a thousand different directions. I’m not sure I did a good job at explaining my thoughts.

But do share yours! I’m interested! It’s been a while since we talked headcanons and meta! I’ll put this on the tag if people are feeling like reading ramblings and discussing their own vision...

All hcs and meta are interesting!

#hayffie #meta #hc #LOTS of rambling #but I'm interested in other opinions #so if you feel like reading my ramblings #and if you manage to make sense of them #cause let's be honest I forgot how to do a structured answer #please do share your opinions #I'm interested #and also it's something to do #haha #I guess I'm not writing the next chapter of mind wipe today though #cause it's almost noon now #lmao #well #I'll write a prompt instead #anon #ask

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igsy-blog · 7 years

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reTHG: The Hunger Games - Chapters Five and Six: Cinna

I have a lot of in-depth headcanon about Cinna. Probably even more than Haymitch, a character I like more, but don’t spend a lot of time thinking about. Haymitch’s personality is so external, and his history is fleshed out enough (by MJ) to understand his motivations. Cinna’s are so wide open. I have a story about Cinna and Portia I really want to write, so I won’t divulge ALL my Cinna theories here, just a few relatively pertinent ones.

When I first read this book, I was vaguely troubled by Katniss’ description of the Capitol citizens, because she’s very judgmental of them, in a superficial way. To me, the described Capitolite modes of self-expression are not intrinsically offensive – certainly not intolerable – and judging people by the way they look strikes me as fussy and conservative. I understand Katniss’ revulsion to them – she associates this audience, their lack of misery, their lack of compassion, their numbness to the tributes, with how differently they act and look from the district citizens. I was more worried about Collins’ judgment, really.

But, going back to Katniss, since she does kind of think of people in terms of simple characteristics (red hair, a limp, gold eyeliner), she maybe trusts them more the simpler they are to her eye, because she can anchor them to a short list of easily-recognized attributes. As if self-expression via a multitude of enhancements, or a wardrobe that always changes, hides too many things about the actual self. By Mockingjay, however, you see that this was just one of the journeys that she needed to take. Her field of allies keeps widening out until it includes these people who seem to her almost alien. In THG, her allies are Peeta - and Rue, who is from a similar district and reminds her strongly of her sister. In CF, her allies include Finnick and Johanna – whom she must learn not to dislike and distrust – the morphlings – even Plutarch. And in MJ, they include the tattooed Cressida and pierced Messalla, and, at last, the three members of her prep team, introduced in this chapter, who represent – more than Cinna, more than Effie – understanding and compassion for the Other, and reconciliation.

Cinna is different; he is an exception to all her internal rules about the Capitol. Here we find out just a few basic facts about Cinna: he is a new stylist to the Games; he volunteered to be the stylist for District 12; he and his partner, Portia, have decided to transform them into memorable contestants – to play into the audience’s expectations for pageantry, and to give them even more: to elevate the idea of what it means to be a citizen from the coal district.

So, Cinna is young; possibly fairly recently finished with whatever training one might have to go through to be a stylist. The first question is, why did he volunteer for 12 (and the bigger question might be when did he)? Apparently, he was allowed to make the choice. Despite being a new stylist, he tells Katniss he wasn’t stuck with District 12, but actually asked for it. By this I gather that he was certainly well-connected to the Games. Also – he seems to be pretty comfortable with Haymitch, as if they’ve known each other for a while. I like to think that he had a close relative – maybe his mother or father – involved in the games previously, a mentor or an escort, and he hung around the back-stage part of the games for some time (a little more on this in a bit).

I do like to think that he volunteered for Katniss, choosing District 12 on the day of the reaping. Even if Haymitch wasn’t shouting out a coded message that they had found their spark for the revolution, Cinna could well have been impressed – as was the rest of the Capitol, we are told – by this unlikely volunteer.

Cinna seems technically far advanced over his fellow stylists, so I also think of him as well educated. And he is a true artist. This is so awesome. I love, love, love the importance of design and art in this story. I’d love to have the expertise to write more about the importance of semiotics in these books. You can’t run an underground revolution with speeches, so of course you need artists to help you deliver your messages, in symbols and signs. And then Peeta idevelops as an artist, too, in Catching Fire!)

And Cinna is a fashion designer – a perfect support character for a feminist story. Clothes are such a perfect physical representation of the powerful/powerless role in which Katniss is forced to function. She is made – unwittingly, sometimes – into a billboard, time and time again; each outfit sending a message, sometimes multiple messages to different audiences at once. Except when she wears the simple outfit of home, she is constantly forced to wear clothes of other people’s choosing. But at the same time, she feels – that paradoxic feeling we’ve maybe all felt at times – the power of an amazing outfit, the heady internal power and confidence that accompanies feeling beautiful on the outside. Or the outfit that you finally dare to wear with confidence because it shouts out who you really are on the inside.

In this moment, because of Cinna’s work, something happens to Katniss during the tribute parade. For a moment, isolated from the harsh reality of the arena, the audience falls in love with Katniss. And she accepts their love. In her conscious mind, this is framed in terms of strategy, and yet it’s also a bit heady:

“The pounding music, the cheers, the admiration work their way into my blood, and I can’t suppress my excitement.” (THG Chapter 6)

The reason I like to think of Cinna as having grown up around the games is that, as well as access, it would have given him all kinds of perspective different from that of typical Capitolites – such as having exposure to tributes and Victors early on. But that’s just a theory. Anyway, I feel certain he was involved in the Rebellion; and that his designs - and maybe he had a range of potential designs for different districts - were intended to empower his tributes on behalf of both sets of audiences - the Capitol one who would just see the flash and dazzle, and the District ones who would maybe see something a little more.

And then the final piece - linking the two tributes together. Much as I would wish differently, there isn’t a whole lot we can say about Portia. She’s never described, we have no indication of her age or how equal a partner she is with Cinna. I wrote a lot about Portia in one of my fics and would really have liked to have had more to go on; but, due to the nature of the story, she had to stand in for Cinna, anyway, so she took on a lot of (what was in my head as) his backstory. But I do like to think that she was very much aware and supportive of Cinna’s work for the Rebellion. I think partnering up Cinna with someone outside of the Rebellion could have been very dangerous - that it was best for him to work with someone he trusted. I just think this also gets to neatly reflect that - although his part in this aspect of it all is not really highlighted much - Peeta, by always either matching or complementary to Katniss, is also being used as a messenger.

At the tribute parade, they are dressed exactly the same and although history mainly remembers the Girl on Fire, Katniss notes that Peeta’s name is also being called by the crowd. Cinna has decided that the matching outfits and the spectacle of the flames is not enough. He has Katniss and Peeta join hands on the chariot (“Just the perfect touch of rebellion,” Haymitch will note.) Again, I don’t know how far back the Rebels’ plans go .… or who knew what, when about Peeta’s feelings for Katniss … . Cinna and Haymitch are right; to be in an alliance with your opponent is a touch rebellious. To be in love with her, though, is revolutionary, and man would I love to know how much Cinna and Haymitch perceived this from the beginning ….

#rethg #Cinna

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readbookywooks · 8 years

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14. I remain at the window long after the woods have swallowed up the last glimpse of my home. This time I don't have even the slightest hope of return. Before my first Games, I promised Prim I would do everything I could to win, and now I've sworn to myself to do all I can to keep Peeta alive. I will never reverse this journey again. I'd actually figured out what I wanted my last words to my loved ones to be. How best to close and lock the doors and leave them sad but safely behind. And now the Capitol has stolen that as well. "We'll write letters, Katniss," says Peeta from behind me. "It will be better, anyway. Give them a piece of us to hold on to. Haymitch will deliver them for us if ... they need to be delivered." I nod and go straight to my room. I sit on the bed, knowing I will never write those letters. They will be like the speech I tried to write to honor Rue and Thresh in District 11. Things seemed clear in my head and even when I talked before the crowd, but the words never came out of the pen right. Besides, they were meant to go with embraces and kisses and a stroke of Prim's hair, a caress of Gale's face, a squeeze of Madge's hand. They cannot be delivered with a wooden box containing my cold, stiff body. Too heartsick to cry, all I want is to curl up on the bed and sleep until we arrive in the Capitol tomorrow morning. But I have a mission. No, it's more than a mission. It's my dying wish. Keep Peeta alive. And as unlikely as it seems that I can achieve it in the face of the Capitol's anger, it's important that I be at the top of my game. This won't happen if I'm mourning for everyone I love back home. Let them go, I tell myself. Say good-bye and forget them. I do my best, thinking of them one by one, releasing them like birds from the protective cages inside me, locking the doors against their return. By the time Effie knocks on my door to call me to dinner, I'm empty. But the lightness isn't entirely unwelcome. The meal's subdued. So subdued, in fact, that there are long periods of silence relieved only by the removal of old dishes and presentation of new ones. A cold soup of pureed vegetables. Fish cakes with creamy lime paste. Those little birds filled with orange sauce, with wild rice and watercress. Chocolate custard dotted with cherries. Peeta and Effie make occasional attempts at conversation that quickly die out. "I love your new hair, Effie," Peeta says. "Thank you. I had it especially done to match Katniss's pin. I was thinking we might get you a golden ankle band and maybe find Haymitch a gold bracelet or something so we could all look like a team," says Effie. Evidently, Effie doesn't know that my mockingjay pin is now a symbol used by the rebels. At least in District 8. In the Capitol, the mockingjay is still a fun reminder of an especially exciting Hunger Games. What else could it be? Real rebels don't put a secret symbol on something as durable as jewelry. They put it on a wafer of bread that can be eaten in a second if necessary. "I think that's a great idea," says Peeta. "How about it, Haymitch?" "Yeah, whatever," says Haymitch. He's not drinking but I can tell he'd like to be. Effie had them take her own wine away when she saw the effort he was making, but he's in a miserable state. If he were the tribute, he would have owed Peeta nothing and could be as drunk as he liked. Now it's going to take all he's got to keep Peeta alive in an arena full of his old friends, and he'll probably fail. "Maybe we could get you a wig, too," I say in an attempt at lightness. He just shoots me a look that says to leave him alone, and we all eat our custard in silence. "Shall we watch the recap of the reapings?" says Effie, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a white linen napkin. Peeta goes off to retrieve his notebook on the remaining living victors, and we gather in the compartment with the television to see who our competition will be in the arena. We are all in place as the anthem begins to play and the annual recap of the reaping ceremonies in the twelve districts begins. In the history of the Games, there have been seventy-five victors. Fifty-nine are still alive. I recognize many of their faces, either from seeing them as tributes or mentors at previous Games or from our recent viewing of the victors' tapes. Some are so old or wasted by illness, drugs, or drink that I can't place them. As one would expect, the pools of Career tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 are the largest. But every district has managed to scrape up at least one female and one male victor. The reapings go by quickly. Peeta studiously puts stars by the names of the chosen tributes in his notebook. Haymitch watches, his face devoid of emotion, as friends of his step up to take the stage. Effie makes hushed, distressed comments like "Oh, not Cecelia" or "Well, Chaff never could stay out of a fight," and sighs frequently. For my part, I try to make some mental record of the other tributes, but like last year, only a few really stick in my head. There's the classically beautiful brother and sister from District 1 who were victors in consecutive years when I was little. Brutus, a volunteer from District 2, who must be at least forty and apparently can't wait to get back in the arena. Finnick, the handsome bronze-haired guy from District 4 who was crowned ten years ago at the age of fourteen. A hysterical young woman with flowing brown hair is also called from 4, but she's quickly replaced by a volunteer, an eighty-year-old woman who needs a cane to walk to the stage. Then there's Johanna Mason, the only living female victor from 7, who won a few years back by pretending she was a weakling. The woman from 8 who Effie calls Cecelia, who looks about thirty, has to detach herself from the three kids who run up to cling to her. Chaff, a man from 11 who I know to be one of Haymitch's particular friends, is also in. I'm called. Then Haymitch. And Peeta volunteers. One of the announcers actually gets teary because it seems the odds will never be in our favor, we star-crossed lovers of District 12. Then she pulls herself together to say she bets that "these will be the best Games ever!" Haymitch leaves the compartment without a word, and Effie, after making a few unconnected comments about this tribute or that, bids us good night. I just sit there watching Peeta rip out the pages of the victors who were not picked. "Why don't you get some sleep?" he says. Because I can't handle the nightmares. Not without you, I think. They are sure to be dreadful tonight. But I can hardly ask Peeta to come sleep with me. We've barely touched since that night Gale was whipped. "What are you going to do?" I ask. "Just review my notes awhile. Get a clear picture of what we're up against. But I'll go over it with you in the morning. Go to bed, Katniss," he says. So I go to bed and, sure enough, within a few hours I awake from a nightmare where that old woman from District 4 transforms into a large rodent and gnaws on my face. I know I was screaming, but no one comes. Not Peeta, not even one of the Capitol attendants. I pull on a robe to try to calm the gooseflesh crawling over my body. Staying in my compartment is impossible, so I decide to go find someone to make me tea or hot chocolate or anything. Maybe Haymitch is still up. Surely he isn't asleep. I order warm milk, the most calming thing I can think of, from an attendant. Hearing voices from the television room, I go in and find Peeta. Beside him on the couch is the box Effie sent of tapes of the old Hunger Games. I recognize the episode in which Brutus became victor. Peeta rises and flips off the tape when he sees me. "Couldn't sleep?" "Not for long," I say. I pull the robe more securely around me as I remember the old woman transforming into the rodent. "Want to talk about it?" he asks. Sometimes that can help, but I just shake my head, feeling weak that people I haven't even fought yet already haunt me. When Peeta holds out his arms, I walk straight into them. It's the first time since they announced the Quarter Quell that he's offered me any sort of affection. He's been more like a very demanding trainer, always pushing, always insisting Haymitch and I run faster, eat more, know our enemy better. Lover? Forget about that. He abandoned any pretense of even being my friend. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I will not be the first to let go. And why should I? I have said good-bye to Gale. I'll never see him again, that's for certain. Nothing I do now can hurt him. He won't see it or he'll think I am acting for the cameras. That, at least, is one weight off my shoulders. The arrival of the Capitol attendant with the warm milk is what breaks us apart. He sets a tray with a steaming ceramic jug and two mugs on a table. "I brought an extra cup," he says. "Thanks," I say. "And I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice," he adds. He looks at us like he wants to say more, then gives his head a slight shake and backs out of the room. "What's with him?" I say. "I think he feels bad for us," says Peeta. "Right," I say, pouring the milk. "I mean it. I don't think the people in the Capitol are going to be all that happy about our going back in," says Peeta. "Or the other victors. They get attached to their champions." "I'm guessing they'll get over it once the blood starts flowing," I say flatly. Really, if there's one thing I don't have time for, it's worrying about how the Quarter Quell will affect the mood in the Capitol. "So, you're watching all the tapes again?" "Not really. Just sort of skipping around to see people's different fighting techniques," says Peeta. "Who's next?" I ask. "You pick," says Peeta, holding out the box. The tapes are marked with the year of the Games and the name of the victor. I dig around and suddenly find one in my hand that we have not watched. The year of the Games is fifty. That would make it the second Quarter Quell. And the name of the victor is Haymitch Abernathy. "We never watched this one," I say. Peeta shakes his head. "No. I knew Haymitch didn't want to. The same way we didn't want to relive our own Games. And since we're all on the same team, I didn't think it mattered much." "Is the person who won in twenty-five in here?" I ask. "I don't think so. Whoever it was must be dead by now, and Effie only sent me victors we might have to face." Peeta weighs Haymitch's tape in his hand. "Why? You think we ought to watch it?" "It's the only Quell we have. We might pick up something valuable about how they work," I say. But I feel weird. It seems like some major invasion of Haymitch's privacy. I don't know why it should, since the whole thing was public. But it does. I have to admit I'm also extremely curious. "We don't have to tell Haymitch we saw it." "Okay," Peeta agrees. He puts in the tape and I curl up next to him on the couch with my milk, which is really delicious with the honey and spices, and lose myself in the Fiftieth Hunger Games. After the anthem, they show President Snow drawing the envelope for the second Quarter Quell. He looks younger but just as repellent. He reads from the square of paper in the same onerous voice he used for ours, informing Panem that in honor of the Quarter Quell, there will be twice the number of tributes. The editors smash cut right into the reapings, where name after name after name is called. By the time we get to District 12, I'm completely overwhelmed by the sheer number of kids going to certain death. There's a woman, not Effie, calling the names in 12, but she still begins with "Ladies first!" She calls out the name of a girl who's from the Seam, you can tell by the look of her, and then I hear the name "Maysilee Donner." "Oh!" I say. "She was my mother's friend." The camera finds her in the crowd, clinging to two other girls. All blond. All definitely merchants' kids. "I think that's your mother hugging her," says Peeta quietly. And he's right. As Maysilee Donner bravely disengages herself and heads for the stage, I catch a glimpse of my mother at my age, and no one has exaggerated her beauty. Holding her hand and weeping is another girl who looks just like Maysilee. But a lot like someone else I know, too. "Madge," I say. "That's her mother. She and Maysilee were twins or something," Peeta says. "My dad mentioned it once." I think of Madge's mother. Mayor Undersee's wife. Who spends half her life in bed immobilized with terrible pain, shutting out the world. I think of how I never realized that she and my mother shared this connection. Of Madge showing up in that snowstorm to bring the painkiller for Gale. Of my mockingjay pin and how it means something completely different now that I know that its former owner was Madge's aunt, Maysilee Donner, a tribute who was murdered in the arena. Haymitch's name is called last of all. It's more of a shock to see him than my mother. Young. Strong. Hard to admit, but he was something of a looker. His hair dark and curly, those gray Seam eyes bright and, even then, dangerous. "Oh. Peeta, you don't think he killed Maysilee, do you?" I burst out. I don't know why, but I can't stand the thought. "With forty-eight players? I'd say the odds are against it," says Peeta. The chariot rides - in which the District 12 kids are dressed in awful coal miners' outfits - and the interviews flash by. There's little time to focus on anyone. But since Haymitch is going to be the victor, we get to see one full exchange between him and Caesar Flickerman, who looks exactly as he always does in his twinkling midnight blue suit. Only his dark green hair, eyelids, and lips are different. "So, Haymitch, what do you think of the Games having one hundred percent more competitors than usual?" asks Caesar. Haymitch shrugs. "I don't see that it makes much difference. They'll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same." The audience bursts out laughing and Haymitch gives them a half smile. Snarky. Arrogant. Indifferent. "He didn't have to reach far for that, did he?" I say. Now it's the morning the Games begin. We watch from the point of view of one of the tributes as she rises up through the tube from the Launch Room and into the arena. I can't help but give a slight gasp. Disbelief is reflected on the faces of the players. Even Haymitch's eyebrows lift in pleasure, although they almost immediately knit themselves back into a scowl. It's the most breathtaking place imaginable. The golden Cornucopia sits in the middle of a green meadow with patches of gorgeous flowers. The sky is azure blue with puffy white clouds. Bright songbirds flutter overhead. By the way some of the tributes are sniffing, it must smell fantastic. An aerial shot shows that the meadow stretches for miles. Far in the distance, in one direction, there seems to be a woods, in the other, a snowcapped mountain. The beauty disorients many of the players, because when the gong sounds, most of them seem like they're trying to wake from a dream. Not Haymitch, though. He's at the Cornucopia, armed with weapons and a backpack of choice supplies. He heads for the woods before most of the others have stepped off their plates. Eighteen tributes are killed in the bloodbath that first day. Others begin to die off and it becomes clear that almost everything in this pretty place - the luscious fruit dangling from the bushes, the water in the crystalline streams, even the scent of the flowers when inhaled too directly - is deadly poisonous. Only the rainwater and the food provided at the Cornucopia are safe to consume. There's also a large, well-stocked Career pack of ten tributes scouring the mountain area for victims. Haymitch has his own troubles over in the woods, where the fluffy golden squirrels turn out to be carnivorous and attack in packs, and the butterfly stings bring agony if not death. But he persists in moving forward, always keeping the distant mountain at his back. Maysilee Donner turns out to be pretty resourceful herself, for a girl who leaves the Cornucopia with only a small backpack. Inside she finds a bowl, some dried beef, and a blowgun with two dozen darts. Making use of the readily available poisons, she soon turns the blowgun into a deadly weapon by dipping the darts in lethal substances and directing them into her opponents' flesh. Four days in, the picturesque mountain erupts in a volcano that wipes out another dozen players, including all but five of the Career pack. With the mountain spewing liquid fire, and the meadow offering no means of concealment, the remaining thirteen tributes - including Haymitch and Maysilee - have no choice but to confine themselves to the woods. Haymitch seems bent on continuing in the same direction, away from the now volcanic mountain, but a maze of tightly woven hedges forces him to circle back into the center of the woods, where he encounters three of the Careers and pulls his knife. They may be much bigger and stronger, but Haymitch has remarkable speed and has killed two when the third disarms him. That Career is about to slit his throat when a dart drops him to the ground. Maysilee Donner steps out of the woods. "We'd live longer with two of us." "Guess you just proved that," says Haymitch, rubbing his neck. "Allies?" Maysilee nods. And there they are, instantly drawn into one of those pacts you'd be hard-pressed to break if you ever expect to go home and face your district. Just like Peeta and me, they do better together. Get more rest, work out a system to salvage more rainwater, fight as a team, and share the food from the dead tributes' packs. But Haymitch is still determined to keep moving on. "Why?" Maysilee keeps asking, and he ignores her until she refuses to move any farther without an answer. "Because it has to end somewhere, right?" says Haymitch. "The arena can't go on forever." "What do you expect to find?" Maysilee asks. "I don't know. But maybe there's something we can use," he says. When they finally do make it through that impossible hedge, using a blowtorch from one of the dead Careers' packs, they find themselves on flat, dry earth that leads to a cliff. Far below, you can see jagged rocks. "That's all there is, Haymitch. Let's go back," says Maysilee. "No, I'm staying here," he says. "All right. There's only five of us left. May as well say good-bye now, anyway," she says. "I don't want it to come down to you and me." "Okay," he agrees. That's all. He doesn't offer to shake her hand or even look at her. And she walks away. Haymitch skirts along the edge of the cliff as if trying to figure something out. His foot dislodges a pebble and it falls into the abyss, apparently gone forever. But a minute later, as he sits to rest, the pebble shoots back up beside him. Haymitch stares at it, puzzled, and then his face takes on a strange intensity. He lobs a rock the size of his fist over the cliff and waits. When it flies back out and right into his hand, he starts laughing. That's when we hear Maysilee begin to scream. The alliance is over and she broke it off, so no one could blame him for ignoring her. But Haymitch runs for her, anyway. He arrives only in time to watch the last of a flock of candy pink birds, equipped with long, thin beaks, skewer her through the neck. He holds her hand while she dies, and all I can think of is Rue and how I was too late to save her, too. Later that day, another tribute is killed in combat and a third gets eaten by a pack of those fluffy squirrels, leaving Haymitch and a girl from District 1 to vie for the crown. She's bigger than he is and just as fast, and when the inevitable fight comes, it's bloody and awful and both have received what could well be fatal wounds, when Haymitch is finally disarmed. He staggers through the beautiful woods, holding his intestines in, while she stumbles after him, carrying the ax that should deliver his deathblow. Haymitch makes a beeline for his cliff and has just reached the edge when she throws the ax. He collapses on the ground and it flies into the abyss. Now weaponless as well, the girl just stands there, trying to staunch the flow of blood pouring from her empty eye socket. She's thinking perhaps that she can outlast Haymitch, who's starting to convulse on the ground. But what she doesn't know, and what he does, is that the ax will return. And when it flies back over the ledge, it buries itself in her head. The cannon sounds, her body is removed, and the trumpets blow to announce Haymitch's victory. Peeta clicks off the tape and we sit there in silence for a while. Finally Peeta says, "That force field at the bottom of the cliff, it was like the one on the roof of the Training Center. The one that throws you back if you try to jump off and commit suicide. Haymitch found a way to turn it into a weapon." "Not just against the other tributes, but the Capitol, too," I say. "You know they didn't expect that to happen. It wasn't meant to be part of the arena. They never planned on anyone using it as a weapon. It made them look stupid that he figured it out. I bet they had a good time trying to spin that one. Bet that's why I don't remember seeing it on television. It's almost as bad as us and the berries!" I can't help laughing, really laughing, for the first time in months. Peeta just shakes his head like I've lost my mind - and maybe I have, a little. "Almost, but not quite," says Haymitch from behind us. I whip around, afraid he's going to be angry over us watching his tape, but he just smirks and takes a swig from a bottle of wine. So much for sobriety. I guess I should be upset he's drinking again, but I'm preoccupied with another feeling. I've spent all these weeks getting to know who my competitors are, without even thinking about who my teammates are. Now a new kind of confidence is lighting up inside of me, because I think I finally know who Haymitch is. And I'm beginning to know who I am. And surely, two people who have caused the Capitol so much trouble can think of a way to get Peeta home alive.

#CatchingFire

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ellanainthetardis · 6 years

Note

Could you please write a shot based on the shower scene from colony that you reposted!!!

Here you go [x]

Of Bugs, Showers & Pretending

Haymitch sat at the small table in thecompartment Thirteen had allotted him, turning a pen between his shaky fingers.His eyes kept darting to the lamp in the corner where he knew the bug to be.

He hadn’t been looking for listening devicesand, clearly, Coin’s men hadn’t made a huge effort to hide it. He hadaccidentally knocked it off while cursing the lack of space and it had fallendown almost right into his hand. He had put everything back after a moment ofdwelling between thrusting the proof under the President’s nose and pretendingnot to know.

Confronting Coin would bring him nothing butprobable denial and fishy explanations.

Pretending not to know… It would give him anedge.

He rubbed his face, feeling the headachestarting to throb at the back of his head. Sometimes he thought if he could geta glass of liquor the whole rebellion would be a lot damn easier.

He wasn’t exactly surprised. He wouldn’t evenbe surprised to find out every compartment was bugged. Thirteen couldn’t afforddissent or spies. But this Districthad been supposed to be a safe place, their haven in the storm and…

The door was slid open and closed just enoughfor Effie to slip through the crack. Given the scowl on her bare face, hesupposed she hadn’t had a better day than his.

“This woman is impossible.” she hissed without another form of greeting. “I do not know who elected her but let me tellyou she makes a ridiculous president.Why, if we manage to win this war I am not certain how long she will remain in…What are you doing?”

Her sentence ended in a screech when he pinnedher to the wall. She gave in to the kiss easily enough but seemed a littlesurprise by the violence of it.

That was another thing he was angry about. Theyhad let themselves slip. Not only regarding the nature of their relationshipbut also in what they said out loud. Neither of them would have been stupidenough to discuss politics in the penthouse or in her apartment but, there theywere, spending hours criticizing Coin and Thirteen and sharing their warinessabout the President’s plans for the kids indoors… They had been stupid. They had let themselves thinkthey were safe when really…

“I need a shower.” he mumbled against her lips.“And you.”

“I already spent my allotted five minutes ofhot water this morning.” she complained. “And there is no waywe can do anything in that shower.Certainly not within your five minutes timeframe.”

“I want you, Effie.” he insisted firmly, in atone that brought no contradiction. “Now.”

It was the use of her name that truly got toher. They exchanged a long stare and she giggled, kissing him again, almostpushing him toward the bathroom, her hands already unbuttoning his shirt.

“I love when you are this passionate.” shepurred in a sexy tone that had nothing to do with her usual seducing voice.

He relaxed when he realized she had picked upon what he was trying to do and he followed her lead, tugging at the too biguniform she had on. After all, showering together to have a privateconversation was nothing new. “You get me hot.”

“Do I?” she grinned. “I better do somethingabout it, then.”

They were down to their underwear by the timethey reached the bathroom. It was a very small room, barely larger than acupboard in which a toilet, a sink and a shower were crammed. If it could becalled a shower. It was only delimitated by the square of white tiles on thefloor and water tended to spill everywhere in the small room. The plumbingwasn’t great either, just a faucet on the upper wall and no hot and warm tap, just a button to start the water and a scan to pass yourwrist under when you wanted your five minutes of allotted hot water.

She didn’t bother suggesting he put his wristunder the scan. She took off her bra and her panties and turned around. Thebathroom was so small that he only had to take a step to push her against thewall. He wasn’t sure which one of them hit the button but soon freezing waterwas pouring down on them in a cacophony that should cover most of the noisesthey would make.

The cold water wasn’t exactly helping him getin the mood but he still went on with the necessary act, touching her, makingher moan – she was always loud but this wasobviously fake. Eventually, his mouth roamed from her collarbone to her jaw. Hesucked on her earlobe and, then, while she made indecent sounds that reallywere over the top given that they were both shivering and his hand wasn’t thatdeft between her legs, he brought his lips to her ear.

“I found a bug.” he murmured. “Don’t know howmany more. Don’t know if they are watching too. We can’t say anything in thereanymore.”

“Oh, Haymitch!”she cried out as if she was actually getting close. He felt himself twitchdespite how not real it was. Shekissed him hard, her fingers tangling in his hair to pull his head back. Shelicked the water off his throat, retracing the path up his jaw to his ear… Hervoice was controlled when she talked barely over a whisper. “Why?”

He picked her up and held her against the wall,pretending to pound into her even though he was barely half hard. He hopedthere weren’t cameras but he couldn’t be sure. And if he couldn’t be sure, hewould rather be safe than sorry.

She let out small increasingly loud moans andburied her face in his neck. Her damp hair stuck to his shoulder.

“Not sure.” he answered. “Might be about you,might be about me. Guess Coin doesn’t trust us. We put the kids first, sheknows that.” He nuzzled her hair a little. “Might also be a general thing andI’m paranoid.”

She snorted at that but quickly covered it witha loud moan.

“What do we do?” she whispered. “Do we warnKatniss?”

Warning Peeta wouldn’t be useful given how fargone the boy was. Finnick, now… But Finnick was being a good little soldier andso was Johanna to some extent. They were both committed.

Haymitch was the one openly criticizing somedecisions and challenging the President. He was the one who had insisted onbringing along an escort and who was now fuckingher – and he had no doubt that if he hadn’t made it clear she was out ofbounds, Effie would have had a much harder time in Thirteen. He was the onecontrolling the Mockingjay – as much as Katniss could be controlled anyway.

“No.” he said eventually. It would only make itworse. The girl wasn’t overly impressed with the rebels as it was and he didn’twant to tilt the balance. She was reckless and if she did something stupid liketrying to go off on her own… “We play exactly like we used to. Assume someone’salways listening or watching.” He felt her nod slightly. “Good now finish this‘cause I’m freezing my ass off.”

“You and me both.” she grumbled before lettingout a sharp cry that, he supposed, could have convinced someone who hadn’t heardher getting off for years. He added a groan for good measure and let her down,feeling around for the button. Effie had already wrapped herself in a towel bythe time he turned around. Her teeth were shattering. “I just love that sort ofwelcome home.” she grinned, her eyes bright and her tone cheerful.

He didn’t like dealing with her escort persona.She had left that behind a little when she had been forced to abandon herdresses and her wigs. She still hid behind her masks but she also tended to bea little more caustic and smarter than people expected her to. He knew Plutarchhad picked up on the difference between the public image she had given all herlife and the obviously clever woman who had been helping him with propos andKatniss management.

“Home sweet home.” he replied sarcastically.

She pursed her lips at him and twisted the damptowel around her hair, giving a longing glance to the hairdryer that wasattached to the wall. There was no way to use it for now without riskingelectrocution.

“May I borrow your sweater?” she asked, movingback to the main part of the compartment, naked as the day she was born. He hada second of panic because he didn’t remember if the curtains were drawn or not– and why they needed a plasticwindow giving on the corridor was anyone’s guess, it made him feel like a fishin a tank.

He hurried after her, relieved to find thecurtains were drawn, and absolutelynot surprised to see her rummaging in the heap of clothes he couldn’t be botheredto fold or put away properly. She picked out the clean from the dirty and endedup wearing a pair of boxers that were too loose on her hips and one of his greylong-sleeves undershirts. His sweater had been tossed on a chair and it wasn’tlong before she had grabbed that too and wrapped it around her shoulders like ashawl. Then she curled up on one of the chairs, looking a little miserable.Like a drowned rat. Not that he would make this comparison out loud.

He tossed balled socks at her before gettingdressed too, unable to bear the chill in the room. She didn’t even try to tellhim it wouldn’t look pretty, she pulled them up as far up her calves as theywould go.

“Shall we skip dinner and go to bed?” shesuggested.

He checked the clock and then his schedulebefore glancing at the communicuff he had tossed on the table earlier. It hadbeen quiet for too long as it was. He was ready to bet it wouldn’t be longbefore it went off.

“You’re cranky when you don’t get anything toeat.” he remarked. “I ain’t spending the whole night listening to you tossingand turning because your stomach’s growling.”

She made a face at him and wriggled her sockedclad toes, averting her eyes. “Perhaps I should spent my nights in my owncompartment from now on. I would not dream of keeping you up with my tossingand turning.”

Her tone was light but he understood the offerfor what it was: a question about the status quo. They hadn’t really beenhiding in Thirteen. They didn’t flaunt itbut he was pretty sure everyone with eyes knew they had something going on. Thenumber of times Plutarch had come to fetch him in the early hours of morningand had found Effie sauntering around his compartment alone…

When it had been the Capitol breathing downtheir neck, hiding and denying had been the safest thing but now… It dependedon who was under observation there. If it was just Effie… It if was her theywere watching then she was safer as his… whateverbecause nobody would touch a victor’s whatever.If it was him, then it was business as usual and it would be safer for themboth to keep her at arm lengths. The same went if it was about both of them.

Was it worth it to take a step back now though?As it was, Thirteen had months of proof that they had a relationship. Sure,they had talked and joked about its casual nature often enough in either oftheir rooms but lately it had been all it was: talks and jokes. They had foughtabout how jealous she was of the refugees she perceived to be trying to seducehim. He had told her as plainly as he was able that she was the only one he wasinterested in. They crawled in bed together without having sex first. He hadnever worded it but his feelings… His feelings were obvious, he figured. And ifit had already terrified him before, at least he had thought in there they hadsome sort of leeway. And now… Well…

“Nah, I need you to keep me warm.” he deniedafter a second of hesitation.

She looked back at him, lifting an eyebrowbecause she was certainly not keepinghim warm at night. She was always cold and her feet were always like two blocks of ice.

“Well, we cannot have you getting cold.” shehummed, fighting off a smile.

“No, we can’t.” he snorted, tugging the blackbeanie low on his forehead over his wet hair only to see her purse her lips indistaste at the hat.

She was so busy glaring at it, she didn’t seehis approach.

She wasn’t really reluctant to respond to hiskiss though.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #prompt #mj time #movie!verse #teapot #d13 #hbic effie #angsting h #haymitch with feelings #coconuts friends

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years

Note

i have a Prompt for the queen : Jo asks Effie for advice about a man she likes or a crush or something

Here you go! [X] or [X]

Always Love

Plutarch’s house was impressive and everythingEffie would have aspired to once upon a time. Five years after the war though,she found it… lacking. It was tooostensibly grand, not quite as cold and soulless as her parents’ house had beenbut close enough that she felt uncomfortable in it.

The crux of the matter, she decided as sheslipped away from the room where everyone was gathered to get some air on thebalcony, was that she missed Twelve and their home even if they hadn’t beengone for more than two days by that point.

It would be a long week, she mused. A very, very long week.

She just hoped they would survive this fifthanniversary of the rebellion.

The garden at the back of the house was small,which was not surprising given that the house was in the heart of the city, andthere wasn’t much to see in the dark aside for the high hedge that separatedthem from the neighbor’s property.

She leaned against the stone balustrade andlistened to the echoes of voices inside. Plutarch’s and Fulvia’s dominated, ofcourse, trying to pretend everything was fine just like they had been from thestart of the evening. The tensions though…

Katniss and Peeta had remained in Twelve,declining to attend on the condition that they would make a filmed apparitionat the local celebrations. Annie had been spared the chore on account on herson but she would be expected to show up on camera in Four too.

The rest of them hadn’t been granted the sameliberty. Well, aside for her whohadn’t been invited and strongly advised to stay as far away from cameras asshe could manage. It had enraged Haymitch to the point he had clearly statedthat he would come with her at his arm or not at all. Apparently, they weremore interested in parading Haymitch around than in keeping the last breathingescort from the public.

Still, Haymitch hadn’t wanted to come in thefirst place, had dragged his feet all the way and she could understand him.

Cressida and Polux, at least, were happy to bethere and to see everyone. Gale Hawthorne seemed equally content to seeeveryone again – except for her, who he had not only ignored but been as rudeto as he could get away with when Haymitch was glaring at him. It suited Effiejust fine, she didn’t really like him. Beetee’s behavior was awkward both withher and Haymitch but she figured it had to do with the Hummingbird Operationthat Twelve’s victor had never forgiven the rebels for. The two of them hadalways been good friends but Effie had the feeling that this friendship wasforever damaged. For the same reasons, Haymitch was cold and distant withPlutarch, treating him more like a colleague than a friend, and in turn it madeFulvia defensive and passive-aggressive. And since she and Fulvia had no lovelost for each other, it made for a tense situation.

“I still say you’re a cheater and one day I’mgonna find out how you do it.” Jo declared, joining her on the balcony.

Effie flashed her an amused smile, glancingback at the sliding doors before fishing a cigarette from the packet Johannawas offering her. Haymitch was busy nodding at whatever Cressida was tellinghim, clearly bored given the way he was making his whiskey twirl in his glass.What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Johanna seemed unconcerned by the less thanstellar evening they were all having – and if Effie had found a way to decline Plutarch’sinvitation to dinner she would havebut, just as he was impossible for the Secretary of Communications not toinvite them, it was impossible for them to refuse without insulting anyone. Thepool table in one of the smallest drawing rooms had been a nice surprise thatthe two of them had jumped on. It had brought back memories. She and Johanna hadhad a habit of playing pool whenever the possibility arose…

… and of Effie kicking her butt – which she hadbeen pleased to notice was still a thing.

“I am simply that good.” she grinned, wedging the cigarette between her lips andcupping her hands around it so Johanna could light it despite the small breeze.

It was a bit too cold to be standing out therewithout a coat for too long but it beat going back inside and facing theawkwardness so she wrapped an arm around her stomach and stomped her right heelto warm her foot. She was glad she had opted for the high-waist dove greytailor pants instead of a skirt even if the lilac blouse she had paired it withwas a little too thin for the weather. The brand new purple shoes she hadbought that afternoon – because there was noway she would come to the city and notdo some shopping, to Haymitch’s utter despair – were killing her and whileit was a familiar sort of ache, it wasn’t one she had felt in a while. Wintersin Twelve required boots to travel through the snow and in summer… Thelandscape wasn’t exactly heels-friendly.

“It’s weird, right?” Johanna cringed aftermaking sure the sliding door was closed and nobody could hear them. She perchedherself on the stone balustrade, her back to the garden, watching what wasgoing on inside. “Too much like before.”

“I know what you mean.” she sighed, flickingashes and resolutely keeping her back to the room.

She didn’t want to see.

Haymitch had been good at keeping his alcoholconsumption to a minimum during the last couple of years. She hadn’t asked himto stop and he had never promised he would but she liked to think they hadfound a compromise that worked for everyone. He went on binges sometimes, baddays happened, she understood that, but for the most part, he kept to two orthree glasses a day. Enough to stop the shakes, not enough to get drunk. It hadbeen a painfully slow process to reduce his daily amount and she was only tooaware of how fragile a balance it was.

They had been back in the city only two daysand already he was compulsively refilling his glass. And tonight… Well, tonightwasn’t helping. By her count, this was his fifth glass of whiskey that evening,not counting the wine at dinner, and she was fairly sure he had already downeda couple before they arrived at Plutarch’s.

The problem, as Johanna had pointed out, wasthat the whole thing was too reminiscent of the Games. A special train had beencommandeered for them by the government, the hotel they had been directed towas as lavish as the penthouse had been, prep teams and stylists had beenassigned to them, there were schedules to follow, a ridiculous amount ofevents, red carpets and parties to attend, people they were expected to knowthe names of… Haymitch hated all of that with passion.

The fact that Effie had been more or less toldto keep a low profile wasn’t helping.

He had stubbornly – and loudly – told Plutarch that he would go nowhere without her and thus the government’s half-cooked plan towhisk her in and out by side doors had been tossed through the window. Effiedid her best to satisfy everyone by staying close to Haymitch but not beingtoo… flamboyant.

“What’s the deal with Haymitch and Beetee?” Joasked.

Effie took a long drag of her cigarette andblew out the smoke, watching it being carried away by the wind. She wasn’t surewhat Johanna knew or not of what had really happened with the Capitol childrenat the City Circle and it wasn’t her place to reveal it. The information wasconfidential for a reason. “They had a disagreement about something. Do notconcern yourself with it.”

Johanna watched her with clear suspicion butthen shrugged and focused on her cigarette for a while. Silence didn’t lastlong though. “Gale doesn’t like you much.”

“You don’t say.” she deadpanned. “It completelyescaped my notice.”

Seven’s victor chuckled. “Can’t blame him. Idon’t like you much either.”

“You like me a little.” she accused with somefondness. She didn’t think she and Johanna would ever manage to be friends inthe traditional sense of the word but… Sharing a cell created bonds that werehard to undo or deny. Sharing a family also made it difficult not to getsomehow closer.

Annie, Johanna and little Finn visited Twelveevery winter so the boy could enjoy some snow and they all spent a week in Fourin summer. It had been a thing for the last four years and if Effie hadanything to say about it, it would continue to be.

“You’re not the worst bitch.” Jo admitted witha wince, as if it was physically painful for her to say as much.

“Why, thankyou.” she replied, rolling her eyes. She took a quick drag before going on.“I am not very fond of him anyway. Not only is he a rude young man but hishistory with Katniss alone…”

“What kind of history are we talking here?”Johanna cut in. “She fucked him?”

Effie hesitated, watching the red glow of hercigarette. “I do not think so. And reallymust you be so vulgar all the time?”

“Then, what?” the victor insisted. “’Cause hewas following her around like a puppy in Thirteen. It was sickening to watch.He had it bad. Maybe not worse thanPeeta but bad.”

“She never discussed it with me.” shecountered. “From what I know he was her best friend and from what I gatheredfrom Haymitch and Peeta, she might have had feelings for him at some point.They had a fallout during the war.”

“And she chose Peeta.” Jo snorted. “Must suckto be the default guy.”

“Peeta is notthe default guy.” she frowned. “And why are you so interested in this all of asudden?”

“Just making sure I’m not stepping on anytoes.” Johanna dismissed. “Not that I care much but I like to know what kind ofmess I’m going in for.”

Effie blinked and then groaned. “Please, do not tell me you plan on seducing GaleHawthorne.”

“Won’t tell you, then.” Jo snickered, crushingher cigarette on the stone balcony only to immediately tug another one from herbattered packet.

“This is a terribleidea.” she warned, crushing the bud of her own cigarette in a similar fashion.She glanced back at the room because she wasn’t sure where to dispose of itproperly but since nobody was paying them any attention and Plutarch had astaff waiting hand on foot on him, she simply tossed it on the floor and nudgedit toward the edge of the balcony. “Truly, Johanna…”

“Not thatterrible.” Seven’s victor cackled and Effie was startled to realize herbrown eyes were sparkling. Johanna’s eyes neversparkled and certainly not like that.“That guy knows how to use his cock.”

“Jo!”she exclaimed in outrage. However her curiosity won over her offended sense ofpropriety. “How do you even know…”

“After the whole execution disaster.” Johannashrugged. “We were stuck here for weeksbefore we were cleared to go to Four, remember?” She remembered little thatdidn’t have to do with Katniss’ trial. That and trying not to let her demonsget the better of her had been her only focus at that time. “He was waiting tobe transferred to his command in Two. He was pissed, I was bored.”

“You slept with him.” she stated just so it wasclear and out there.

“Oh, yeah.”Jo confirmed with a salacious grin and a wriggle of her eyebrows. “Saw himaround a few times too. He came to Four for work a couple of years ago. Istopped in Two on my way to Seven once or twice…”

“You are having an affair with Gale Hawthorne.”she heard herself squeal like a teenager, her eyes wide. She couldn’t have beenmore stunned if Haymitch had come out right there and had asked her to marryhim.

“Not an affair.”the victor denied with a growl. “We just fuck.Sometimes. Used to, at least.”

The happy spark in Johanna’s eyes vanished andthe more familiar scowl was back on her face. The way she took a drag of hercigarette could only be described as angry.

Effie had knownthis meant trouble. Gale Hawthorne was trouble. She was ready to bet he hadbroken up whatever had been going on and had sent her on her merry way now thathe had had whatever he wanted. Men were cruel like that. They grew bored. Theygrew stupid.

Not everyone could be lucky enough to find aHaymitch.

“What happened?” she asked, careful to keep hertone neutral. Much like Twelve’s victor, Johanna had a thing for sympathy. Theyboth tended to mistake it for pity.

“Went to his room last night.” Johanna saidafter a few seconds. “Naked.”

Effie pursed her lips in disapproval becausewhile she admired the tactic – had in fact used it a few times herself – shewas pretty sure that the victor hadn’t bothered hiding under a dressing gown ora coat and had trounced around the hotel corridors in her birthday suit. “Of course, you did.”

Jo shot her an annoyed glare but continued herstory. “He opens the door, looks at me and tells me we’re not doing thisanymore. You believe that? I was there. Naked.And the guy has the nerves to tell meto pack it?” Effie turned around to glare at Gale through the sliding doors. Hemust have sensed that he was being the target of very angry stares because he looked at them, still talking toPlutarch, and lifted – far too cocky –interrogative eyebrows. Johanna actually growled. “Asshole.”

“We can make him pay.” she immediately offeredbecause that was what you did when a man hurt a friend. “I can… Oh, I can start rumors about him havinga micropenis.” She didn’t have the influence she used to but a word here and ahint there should do the trick. There were a ton of journalists following themaround for the celebrations after all. “Orwe could trip him down the stairs at the ball tomorrow. Falling in front of ahundred cameras might bruise his ego.”

Jo didn’t appear to have heard her, too busybeing locked in a staring down contest with the young man. “He’s such an ass. Fuck him. Why can’t he be happy with what he’s got? Any other manwould be glad to have that much. Asshole has the nerves to turn me down when Iknock on his door naked?”

“I toldyou I did not like him.” she huffed, shocked by the smug smile Gale was nowtossing Jo. “Handsome men always feelthe need to collect conquests and he looks arrogant too.”

Seven’s victor spared her a brief look beforegoing back to her glaring. “You’ve got it backwards.”

“I beg your pardon?” she frowned.

Jo’s foot kicked the stone pillar of thebalustrade with obvious frustration. “Okay, so maybe it happened more than just a few times.”

And Effie’s mind flashed back to Anniementioning Johanna had been going away for a few days at a time now and thenthe last time they had visited them. Seven’s victor had claimed she needed thespace and Annie had just beamed proudly because she was doing alright alone withher son. And since Finn had always been the main focus, nobody had spared athought for what Johanna had been doing away from Four.

“So… It is a relationship?” she hesitated.

“No.”Jo spat. “I’m not the relationship kind of girls. It’s justsex. Awesome sex. At least it was until he went and fucked everything up.”

“By telling you he wanted to put an end to whatseems to me like a casual relationship regardless of the label you want to puton it?” she teased a little.

“By telling me he fucking loves me.” Seven’s victor growled. “Didn’t ask for it, didI? Told him I just wanted the sex and he went on and on about how he couldn’tdo this another time… Like I care what sort of twisted thing he had going onwith Katniss.”

Effie was starting to get a full picture andshe cleared her throat, choosing to inspect her manicure.

“You just asked me about it.” she pointed out.

“Not ‘cause I care.” Johanna denied. “Just toknow. Whose side are you on anyway?”

She ignored that last accusation. “Thisconversation about his feelings… Did it happen last night?”

While the victor was naked in the corridor…

“Last month.” Jo grumbled. “The asshole said hewasn’t going to sleep with me anymore until I figure out what I want. I commitor no more sex.” Seven’s victor made a face. “I told him to go fuck himself. That I was done.”

“But you went to his room last night.” shegrinned.

“I thought maybe he was done being an idiot.”Johanna muttered. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

Effie briefly bit on her bottom lip, restingher hip against the balustrade to study the younger woman. “Do you like him?”

“I like his cock.” Jo retorted crudely. And toofast.

“To the risk of you trying to behead me with anaxe…” She let her sentence trail off but when she only got a glare and noactual threat, she went on, deciding that Johanna had only been seeking heradvice the whole time without actuallyasking. “It seems to me you do havesome feelings for him.” Seven’s victor opened her mouth and Effie hurried inspeaking before she was interrupted. “I am not saying you are in love with himbut perhaps… Perhaps you do like him?Might he be more than just a sex-friend?”

“People don’t go from fuck buddies to… Whatever he wants us to be.” Jo scowled.

“Haymitch and I did.” she offered.

“Please, Trinket.” the victor scoffed. “You’vebeen in love with him for how long?”

“And he did not want anything to do with that.”she shrugged. “Because he was scared of what would happen if we left the casualfor something more serious and, at the time, he had his reasons but now we are safe, Johanna. If you are afraid of…”

“I’m not afraid!” Jo snarled, raising her voiceenough that it carried inside through the closed door. Effie was aware thateveryone had frozen to glance at them.While most of their friends were good enough to pretend nothing was amiss, Galewas still staring. And now Haymitch was too. Seven’s victor didn’t seem tonotice, too busy glaring and sneering at her. “I’m not afraid and if you everaccuse me of that again, I swear…”

The threat in the victor’s voice was real andEffie probably should have heeded it because, unlike Haymitch, she wasn’t allbark and no bite. She had long moved past her fears for Jo’s abrupt mannersthough. Compared to what Peacekeepers could do…

“You lost people you loved and you feel guiltyabout it.” she interrupted in a soft voice. The first time the Capitol hadtried to sell her, Johanna had stabbed the man, which had resulted in her wholefamily being murdered. In the victor’s mind, she was the one who should be deadand Finnick alive. Never mind the fact that she had been forced to see hermentor, the man who had supported her and helped her after her family’s death,die right in front of her eyes. There was plenty of guilt to go around. “Andyou are scared it will happen again. You feel that way about Annie and Finn toobut you do not have a choice in keeping them with you, do you? At least you donot feel that you have a choice because you think you oweit to Finnick to take care of them. A lover, now… Letting him in would be your choice ultimately. Openingyourself to that possible pain…”

“You’ve become a head doctor?” Jo mocked butEffie didn’t let herself be distracted.

“It isscary, Johanna.” she granted. “But it can be wonderful too. If that man loves you… If he truly loves you…”

“Maybe I can’tlove.” the victor spat. “Ever thought of that?Maybe I don’t even want to. Maybe Ijust…” Johanna shook her head. “What do I even talk to you for? You’re no fucking help. You can’t understand…”

“Oh, I think you can love.” Effie countered. “You love Finn and Annie. And I thinkyou might be a little bit in love with that man too. You cannot let fear ruleyour life or you are letting Snow win. It does not matter if he is dead. If yourun away from something good because you are too scared to lose it… Then youlet him win. And you know what Finnick would say about that…”

Johanna had jumped on her feet at some pointduring her little speech, hands balled into fists and dangerous scowl on herface. For a second, Effie wasn’t sure she wasn’t going to get punched and shewas only too aware that Haymitch and Gale were both making a beeline for thebalcony.

“Fuck you.” Jo spat and then stormed out,bumping into Gale’s shoulder in the process.

“You’re okay?” Haymitch grumbled, immediatelyreaching for Effie’s arm.

“I think Johanna would like an escort back tothe hotel.” she told the younger man firmly. Gale stared at her and then noddedbefore taking off after the victor, to the puzzlement of everyone left in theroom.

“What’s going on?” Haymitch insisted, a frownon his face. “Since when does Jo need an escort anywhere?”

She chuckled and wrapped both arms around hisneck, watching him grow red with embarrassment because they were in public –and not the familiar audience of the children either. Still, she was pleasedwhen he held her waist, pulling her against him.

“Love, darling.” she offered mysteriously,kissing him before he could figure it all out. “Always love.”

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #galana #johanna mason #gale hawthorne #prompt #post mj #funny one #book!verse #established #protective haymitch #jo

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