stillplaying | Appointment Post!

[Good morning, Katniss. Going somewhere?

Because there's a Career outside your door, waiting in the snow. Just for you!

Clove might actually be easy to miss if not for the obvious tracks in the snow. She's sitting on the ground, her knees to her chest and her chin on her knees. She's wearing her Arena jacket, but it's really too cold at this point to do her much good. Not against the further dropping temperatures, continued snow, and wind.

She definitely has the look of someone who didn't sleep at all the night before. Her eyes might still be a little red, but she won't ever admit to that.]

[She had woken up in a foul enough mood, not all that keen on discovering that the tiny man was still in residence. It was one of those rare things both she and Buttercup agreed upon. She for the extra food and drink she had to put out and him for the fact that Katniss had locked the animal in Rue's old bedroom. To be denied the majority of his hunting territory, it seemed, irked the cat most of all.

Not that Katniss entirely cared about Buttercup's well being. Or, really, that of the elf. But one could talk and the other just hissed his displeasure. The choice, ultimately, hadn't been so difficult.

She yawns as she steps outside to go hunting, dressed more warmly the normal due to the snow. Tired from the night's yowling, she almost misses the tracks by her doorstep. Had she also missed knocking at the door? Uncertain, she reaches back for an arrow just in case.]

Twelve.

[She doesn't stand up, doesn't move. It's equal parts exhaustion, apathy, and caution. She doesn't want a bloody battle in the snow.

Clove wants -- needs -- a friend.

Those are hard to come by, especially for a career. So, she'll settle for Katniss. Clove distrusts her the least.]

Going hunting?

[Can I come?]

[Arrow by now notched, she turns around at the sound of a voice. The voice is familiar, as is the nickname given. But the tone seems off. Wrong. It's not the normal mix of grudging respect and frustration she's used to hearing. It's... weaker than anything she's ever heard the girl speak.

Except once.

The expression on the girl's face seems to match. And she remembers the strange behavior both Cato and Clove exhibited the last few days. The way he actually apologized to her.

The arrow's put away and the bow is slung back over her arm.]

I am.

Mind company? Least as far as my camp.

[She hauls herself up to her feet. She looks sixteen (seventeen, now, she has to remember), but she also looks older. Worn, exhausted. And from more than not sleeping last night.

There's nothing she knows to do except to lose herself in violence or running or something.]

[Clove, she decides, will speak when she wants to. If she wants to. The moments had been rare and most certainly strange, but they had occurred. The moments in which two girls, previously enemies, actually trusted one another. Actually shared personal thoughts and histories they might never had with anyone else.

So she shakes her head and begins to walk from the house, pausing two steps in to turn around and make certain the other girl is following. Company, in this case, is not minded. She knows just how horrible these hijackings can be. Just how horrible any hijacking could be.]

[Clove follows, grateful for the silence.

People here ask too many questions, poke and prod and pry about things that don't concern them. Someone from Panem is different. Katniss knows the value of silence, especially after this sort of thing. It's too much. Remembering the daughter she'd never have, the woman she'll never be, the life she'll never lead. She can't face it, not yet.

Her wrists, bruised under her shirt and jacket, itch and ache. It hurts to rub them, but it relieves the prickling, so she keeps doing it. She doesn't want to think about Cato; he's nearly all she has on her mind.

A few hours, a few days. She just needs time.]

[She leads the way through the forest, quiet and stealthy and careful not to step on any loud twigs. The precautions are stupid; they're not nearly deep enough into the forest to begin stalking prey. Perhaps it's also stupid to have Clove at her back. But the unspoken truce keeps her reassured that there will be no knives in the back. There's no reason for a fight. Not today.

But a few yards in, she does pause in her steps to turn around to see if Clove still follows. She doesn't smile, doesn't make any real inclination of acknowledgement. Instead, she just resumes her trek, waiting for Clove to speak.

If she wants to.]

[Clove keeps just a few feet behind. Enough to make it clear she means no ill-will, yet not near enough to presume any sort of friendliness. They, at best, allies. But that's better than being enemies. Still, Clove doesn't know how to explain what's happened. Why she isn't near Cato. Why she doesn't want to be near Cato.

She wants to be back in the Games, but she knows not to say that to Katniss. It doesn't mean the same thing to them. For her, the Games were a time of simple survival. There was no hope for a family, no dream of a different life. It was straight-forward, and Clove misses that.

At the pause, she just resists the urge to break into a run. Not to anything or away from anything, but just a run. She checks herself, though, because that might upset the other girl's actual intention to hunt. Clove doesn't really care about prey today. It's about not being alone and not being idle.

Quietly, desperate for some sound other than her own thoughts, she speaks.]

What sort of game is out this time of year?

[The words startle her at first, though Katniss manages to refrain from any physical signs of surprise. This might not have been the Games but there were some things she still refused to let Clove see. The girl had seen enough. She wasn't going to allow Clove to be witness to any more signs of weakness.

She slows her steps until they walk side by side. It's easier to talk like this, easier to use the hush voices that won't scare game away.]

Squirrels are the easiest. Even in the cold, they're still out trying to gather any lingering nuts. There's hare and foul, too. Small animals but if you catch enough, it's still a decent meal.

[Clove nods. It will be a good lesson, she thinks. Gathering enough little creatures to make a meal. The patience and planning. It leads naturally enough into another question...

...but it's a question that she fears is too telling in itself, and too weak.]

If we catch enough, can I eat with you tonight?

[That question might be the most surprising thing she's heard from Clove all day. More surprising than the other girl's silence, more surprising than her appearance in front of Katniss' door that morning.

Can I eat with you tonight?

Sharing a meal was something friends did. Something that further belayed a trust and understanding between them. It's... not as awful a proposition as she would have once thought.

But still, she has to ask:] Would Cato be joining us, too?

[It takes a moment for an answer to come, and Clove's eyes are fixed straight ahead. She could be watching for movement of brush, for either prey or predator that might be out. It would be easy enough to assume that was her intention, certainly.

Or she might be just be honing in on nothing to not look at Katniss.]

No.

[Being married. Having a child. Even more than that, being still alive. The hijacks here can leave someone with terrible repercussions, much like the hijackings from home. She can understand, then, Clove wanting to be away. Needing that time to sort out her thoughts.]

Okay.

[It was bad enough when it was just her. Seeing a vision of what her life could have been. No more nightmares, no bitterness she can't quite admit or accept, no questions she doesn't know the answer to. Sure, she'd been bitter still, but, then, she could define it. The memory of a dream that never happened? Only made things chaotic.

And Clove likes her life in order.]

Okay.

[Thanks.]

Even if we don't catch anything, [The sentence is paused as she turns to look at Clove again. Catches the silent thanks in the other girl's response and offers a 'you're welcome' in her own.] I have stock saved for the winter.

[There's another pause. A pause as she thinks, really, just how much she can trust the girl who killed her. But there's no one else here, no one else who understands all they've been through. Who can comprehend how difficult these hijackings can be.

Trust doesn't come easy. But she's trying.] You can still come back with me and eat.

[That trust. Those words.

Clove takes awhile to respond, swallows hard as she makes herself speak. Her eyes close briefly, but they open again as she follows Katniss.

When she speaks, it's very low. Her reply is difficult.]

Thanks.

[When there's no reply right away, she looks over at the other girl. She won't pressure her for a response right away. Clove will come to her own conclusion, will decide whether or not the offer is worth accepting. Maybe it's wrong of her to be this trusting, especially to the girl who had killed her. But here in Luceti, they didn't have anyone else. There was no one else who understood.

And in that, she could understand the need to form an alliance. To make certain the other survived. Because it could be worse. They could be alone. Because no one else here will ever understand what their world is like.

When the response does come, she shrugs. Tries to play it off with indifference.]

You're welcome.

Appointment Post!

December 21st - action

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