Appointment Post!

[stillplaying]

For any interaction that you want to happen with Katniss, anytime and anyplace within the luceti world that do not fit into a given post, please use this!

Just give a date and place, and whether this will be via journal or in-person!

Comments

[shenevermisses]

When Katniss rips the photo, clove wipes her eyes.

It would be best, she knows, to destroy her own false memory, but she can't. It's too precious, what it represents. Both hope-- the thought of the husband and family her own arrogance had cheated her out of-- and fear-- always waiting for President Snow's revenge for two Victors escaping him.

And they had not even been as bold as District Twelve and her berries. It gives Clove a far sharper pang of sympathy for the lives of the seventy-fourth victors.

[stillplaying]

[The picture is all but shredded now. Tiny little pieces sit in her hand. She looks down at them, looks at the forest surrounding them. Looks at the lake. And then quietly, she rises. In a show of trust, the bow stays on the ground where she had previously sat. But if Clove does try anything, she has other weapons on her.

She stands by the water's edge, looking at the ripples. Then she opens her fist and lets the wind catch the pieces of photos. The first land on the water's surface and slowly sink under.]

[shenevermisses]

[Gone. Torn and discarded. And now what? Was it as if it had never happened?

No. Because it did. They spent a few days as close friends.

But they could refuse to acknowledge it.]

I wonder how they do it. The wings or the tracker [the creatures are muttations, the tattooed barcodes are trackers; no one will convince her otherwise] probably.

[Then:]

Someone was surprised. Confused, too. When I suggested we might be here for their-- the Malnosso's-- entertainment.

[stillplaying]

[The tracker. She knows exactly what the career is referring to. Similar thoughts had crossed her own mind. At the mention of the word, fingers slip under the short sleeve of her tunic. Rub at the scar where Johanna had dug out another tracker months earlier. But she doesn't think that's how they do it. Not with what she knows of hijacking.

She's quiet though. As Clove talks. Watches the pieces of photo float away. She won't forget. But it doesn't mean she wants to remember. Not a happier life.

The only time she glances back is at the very end. When the girl mentions confusion and Katniss has to frown.]

I've had that, too. They don't understand what games can be like.

[shenevermisses]

[For Clove, Capitol hijackings were whispered stories in the night. No one knew how or even who. Someone's cousin's sister's friend met someone who had endured it or knew someone who had. A lot of people waved them off as nonsense.

Clove had always regarded the tales with a healthy dose of skepticism. But her "life" as a Victor was fresh in her mind. She remembered President Snow, the quiet and serene malevolence in his eyes as he'd conducted the traditional District Two wedding ceremony done with all due Capitol pomp. She remembered the words of relief, congratulations, and caution whispered in her ears by other Victors. Emerging from the games in the throes of triumph and romance, evading the grasp that would have displayed her like one of his white roses. She could only be thankful they'd won together. Cato might never have submitted to Snow as a lone Victor, or he might have been broken completely.

Facing him together had saved them. And she could believe every horror story about hijacking now.]

It's weird. We... grow up with it, and they just... have no idea.

But... well. They talk about things I don't get, too.

[stillplaying]

[She nods as she walks back to where the other girl sits.

There's a lot that she's seen here in which she had never encountered before. Words, objects, animals, and actions. Especially actions. People here are nice. Helpful. Too nice, too helpful. She's not used to it. And not at all fond of it either.

In some ways, it's harder to accept than the hijacking. At least there's some basis in the reality she's grown up with for hijacking. She's seen it, witnessed first hand the ill effects it had on Peeta. But every time someone's overly nice to her, she grows suspicious. Slinks away. Tries to be more unlikable than she already is.

And tries to hide her surprise when it doesn't work.]

[shenevermisses]

[And Clove views every kindness as an investment. Someone's nice to her? They'll want something for it later. It's all part of the alliance of a pack, and every single one of them will fight to the death for themselves the moment the tension's too high.

That's the world she knows. That's what she expects.

And it's with District Twelve that she's actually comfortable. Because they understand. They know that if this truce they have dissolves, there will be no hesitation and no mercy. They aren't pretending anything, and they know the other girl isn't either. They don't like each other...

...And that's why the can stand each other.]

[stillplaying]

[She sits again. Maybe she should move on, continue her trek into the woods. Away from Peeta and Rue and any other lingering memories of recent events. Away from Clove, too. Clove who had been her best friend. Like Gale but yet, not.

Still, she sits instead of leaves. Sits and stares at the lake again. The pieces are no longer visible. They've sunk to the bottom of the lake, or have been eaten by curious fish. Gone. Good riddance. And again she thinks that she should go, too. But she still remains sitting. Staring. Thinking.]

There are a lot of worlds here. Lots of people. And they all seem okay with this. Being pieces in a game.

[shenevermisses]

[Clove is quiet for a few moments, considering the words, the implication of being pieces in a game.]

Maybe they see it as their only way to get by, to survive.

[Because, really, that is how a Career lives. They devote themselves to playing the Game. Life or death. They claim honor and pride. But, really? It's a way to survive. It's an excuse.

Learn how to act, what to say, put on a good show... and maybe you'll live to see the next day.]

Not everyone has nightlock.

[She remembers what District Twelve told her that first day.]

Or the guts to use it.