#crestalls

Snow was dead. Coin was dead. Katniss killed Coin. Coin was Snow's enemy. Katniss couldn't be a mutt if she killed Coin. Snow had laughed. Snow had lied. Haymitch said Snow had lied. Everyone said Snow had lied. But Coin had lied, too --- she was shot for it. Did that mean Snow was right?

I'm not safe..

Thoughts spiralled and he couldn't shake them off. They had put him in the kitchens. As activity therapy, they said. Go and bake. Use the resources. Occupy yourself while we speak of matters you can no longer grasp. And perhaps they were right; he could no longer make sense of it all. There were no cuffs, he wasn't restrained. No guards he was aware of. Like everything was done now that the war was. Fixed. Healed.

He was clumsy in his movements. Pieces of eggshell fell into the bowl, a utensil fell from his hand and he couldn't find the pre-heat function on the oven. All the while these conflicting thoughts were spinning and spinning, his muscles tense and frustration growing. Until a bag of flour ripped and his blood boiled over.

A scream of agony made his vocal cords raw. Boot hit the cabinet. The open sores on his wrist stinging unpleasantly now they were covered by the powdery substance. But the anger quickly made way for aching wave of despair. His screams turning into hopeless cries as he found his way onto the tiles; knees pulled up to his chest and face hidden in flour-covered hands. Thick tears made their trail through the whiteness, showing the skin below and he started to desperately bang his head back against the cabinet behind him --- hoping it would distract his mind to a different sort of pain.

haymitch's  gaze  is  undeniably  fond  as  he  watches  the  little  boy  smack  at  the  water  washing  over  his  feet  there  on  the  bed  of  the  lake.       the  toddler  laughs  &*  screeches  each  time  a  wave  races  up  to  him  ,  delight  clear.      it brings an amused smile to haymitch's lips  the  covey  loved  this  spot  –  it's  only  right  that  he  &*  katniss  show  the  others  the  beauty  of  twelve  ,  untouched  by  the  wreckage  brought  on  by  the  capitol.      annie  &*  her  son  visiting  was  a  nice  change  –  he  doesn't  venture  out  of  twelve  much.       being  around  people  is  still  a  challenge.       katniss  &*  peeta  &*  effie  are  comfortable  now  ;  family.         

in  the  two  years  post  snow's  fall  ,  he's  settled  into  familiarity  once  more  in  twelve.       he  has  to  drink  to  keep  his  body  from  giving  out  after  so  long  drunk  ,  but  he  doesn't  use  it  to  numb  himself  out  of  oblivion  anymore.          he's  raising  geese  &*  visiting  the  lake  here  ,  along  with  the  covey  burial  grounds  ,  then  teaching  katniss  everything  he  ever  knew  about  her  father  &*  their  people.      it's  nice  ,  getting  to  talk  about  lenore  dove  &*  her  family  after  so  long  rotting  away  in  his  misery.         it's  not  much  ,  but  it's  peaceful.      

DISTRICT   THIRTEEN   IS   AN   UNPLEASANT   PLACE   ,   and   that   means   a   lot   coming   from   cecelia   .   eight   ,   full   of   smog   and   factories   ,   is   unpleasant   ,   too   .   even   the   victors   village   is   covered   by   the   haze   .   she's   never   seen   the   stars   within   the   district   parameters   .   though,   it   doesn't   make   her   miss   them   any   less   now   that   they   are   confined   by   all   of   this   concrete   .

❝   if   it's   meant   to   be   then   it'll   be   ,   i   forgive   it   all   as   it   comes   back   to   me   .   ❞

sage   advice   ,   the   only   thing   she   can   give   ,   but   it's   hardly   convincing   .   she   is   in   thirteen   .   alone   .   there   is   much   to   forgive   ,   and   she   has   only   just   begun   trying   to   honor   it   .   maybe   it'll   be   useful   for   annie   .

Jesus, Esra pitied Annie. There’s the losers left behind in the Victory Tours like Esra—rotten to the core and only half that crazy—and then there’s the Annies, the Victors who never got the good life even before their shock collars got whipped up to one hundred. He can’t imagine Snow ever used her like Snow ever used him—some Victors you leave alone, even when you’re a sadistic bastard.

Esra crouches down next to her, trying to get to eye-level, where she’s curled up by the wall. ❛ Annie, you’re always one crazy bitch, but you have got to pull yourself together, now. Who is listening? ❜ 

If she has a lick of sense left, she’ll be able to understand that Snow is always watching. That they have microphones shoved up their butts and trackers to the side of their necks, implanted during their Games to always be found and never taken out. If she says Snow, and is that upset, well... maybe Esra will reconsider leaving Finnick to his devices with her. What a mess.

@crestalls gets a starter!

She's got to be put together for Haymitch during the Games. Effie is her usual, bright, cheerful self when she's with Haymitch, when they're talking with sponsors and other Capitol elite. She's the perfect little bird flitting about doing her job.

Except for right now. Closing the door of the powder room, Effie leans against the wall and shakes with nervous tears as she starts crying. She's an ugly crier, that much she knows, but at least she's a quiet one. She keeps dabbing at her face with a handkerchief to keep her makeup from getting messed up, but she can't seem to stop crying.

The awful cries, the screams of little Primrose those jabberjays echoed back. They weren't real, no, but nothing has rattled Effie quite like that. She inhales and exhales shakily, trying to catch her breath--

She realizes, abruptly, that she's not alone in this room. She locks eyes with Annie, shame and mortification in her face. She tries to force a smile, but she can't manage it.

buzz of the latest games cresting the horizon could be felt throughout the capitol. socialites and soon - to - be sponsors already lining up in preparation to welcome this years latest tributes. cora was vastly different , albeit , her cause for preparation did not hail from the other's. new tributes meant returning victors , and victors talked when they thought people were not listening. donning herself in a lower - key pant suit , her sparkless eyes stark contrast against the ivory fabric , she made her usual route down to where the masses gathered for the chariot preparation. gone the tributes were with their stylists , leaving mentors about mingling like a grand ol' reunion. the tame joy did not last when she walked in , eyes from every district watching her as she moved with a cold smile on her face. at least , until sights beheld a woman she would know anywhere — annie cresta.

Creases appeared between his brows as one raised in mild disapproval. The way that knowledge setting like a stone in Peeta's stomach ached. He could have done so much more if he had known. He could have been more formidable, less concerned with the alliances he and Katniss had made.

If Peeta had been privy to any part of the plan, he could have done something. Instead the cards fell where they may. And maybe, with their capture by the Capitol, it was worth it to not have any information about the rebellion. But Peeta would venture to say, had he known, he'd never have left Katniss's side in the first place even at the behest of Beetee.

Peeta crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the door frame, finding that stability despite the anger that flashed in his eyes.

"Haymitch will be fine." Peeta stated darkly, balling his hand into a fist then releasing it a few times as the red started to fade away and the bruise started to set in.

Might not have been the smartest thing, attacking Haymitch once all eyes were off of them. He bid his time, waited until the right moment when they were alone before letting the old drunkard have it.

To Haymitch's credit, he didn't rat Peeta out. Few didn't connect the dots, but few decided to investigate further.

"They thought wrong." He stated simply, nostrils flared some. "And now Katniss and Joanna are..." his voice petered out. Thinking of the atrocities they were currently being subjected to, his anger was oscillating between rage and sorrow.