& disintegrativeruin
Josephine?
[ she peeks into her room, package tucked under her arm. ]
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& disintegrativeruin
Josephine?
[ she peeks into her room, package tucked under her arm. ]

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& disintegrativeruin
the kitchen tiles are cold under her feet and, with the blink of an eye, there are suddenly slippers on her feet to make-up for that.
raven stifles a yawn. it's four in the morning, the sky outside a dusky blue that signals the dawn that should peak over them in a few hours. the dark dead of the night is already over.
"Couldn't sleep?"
im not on the right blog for this but idgaf all ive been thinking about is how josh views josephine and giselle as innocent, and kes as someone guilty but if jo told him about sam laughs with pie
[ With tired eyes, Anayanci looks on the the young blonde woman and worries the edge of the now well-worn photograph of Joshua. It's faded tremendously in the time she's been looking for him, from being slipped in and out of the little leather pocket in her purse so frequently.
She's supposed to be out getting breakfast for Ricardo--she's left him to sleep in back at the motel--but this young lady looks about Josh's age and she can't help but want to ask. ]
Miss?
[ As she approaches, she holds the photo so it can't be seen just yet, like she's hiding her cards. It's gotten to the point where she almost has to draw upon her courage to show the photo. So many false leads and so many let downs have worn on her, but still she marches on. ]
I'm looking for my son. He's about your age, and if you had any information, anything--
[ Slowly, almost reverently, she shares the photograph with the blonde. It's the most recent one she has with proper focus. ]
This is from a while ago, and he's-- changed a bit, but maybe you recognize him?
His name is Joshua.
[ She's seen how boy Giselle and Joshua are around Kes; jaws and brows set in anger, eyes wide with blown pupils. But Josephine is different. There's something there, fearful maybe, but there's also a warmth there the other two lack when it comes to the older of the four. ]
Hey, Josephine? Can I ask you a question? It's-- Maybe it's not a good idea, it's personal.

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--hey, do you want to see what I can do?
[ She can still taste the sick on her tongue, and the acid is still burning the back of her throat. She’s hardly kept anything down since the Reaping; the mixture of the strange, rich foods and the ceaseless fear has made sure of that.
By the way some of the others are looking at her, she can tell she looks a mess—too pale, too shaky, too weak—and she can tell that makes her a target, but she can’t help it. To try to take her mind off it, she focuses on the kindling she’s arranged as she tries to light it.
Her fingers are clumsy, and she drops her fire-starter at another tribute’s feet. ]
I—
Sorry.
[ She gives a small wave from across the street, trying to catch the other girl's attention. Waiting for a break in traffic, she jogs over, feeling a little silly. ]
Hi.
I like your haircut.