stillplaying | 7th Game [action/voice]

[Action]

[The bakery is a mess. She never meant for it to end up that way. It just sort of happened. Flour covering hair and body, the smell of something burning from the kitchen, flecks of pink frosting teasing her cheeks. Peeta's normally presentable window displays are less than ideal; a poor attempt at recreating the alluring cakes that always caught her attention back in District Twelve. The frosting's melted from the summer heat on one that's sat out since Friday. Another is poorly covered with a grey color -- an attempt at mixing food dyes gone horribly wrong.

Ingredients for various baked goods have somehow escaped the kitchen, piled up on the counters, half covering the note cards Peeta had left for her. Cookbooks borrowed from the library lie open elsewhere, pages now far from pristine. Half baked pretzels stock the shelves along with burnt chocolate chip cookies. Deformed cheese breads and crumbled brownie bites still in their trays sit nearby. Even Buttercup, easily pleased by any free food, ignores the easy pickings.

She tried. She had tried so hard. Peeta had left her recipes. Had tried to teach her how to bake on lazy days when she was more content to spend time with him in the bakery than go about her own thing. It seems that every lesson has been forgotten. Any skill she might have had in the kitchen, utterly gone.

The rain pours outside as she plucks at the rock hard shortbread cookies she's recently retrieved from the oven, trying her best to peel them from the tray. It's a halfhearted effort as she leans her head against her hand and stares out the window. She'd rather be hunting. But it's been raining ever since Peeta left for his mission, raining so hard, all she's been able to do is check a couple of the traps in the river behind their house. And she had promised, hadn't she? Promised she'd look after the bakery?

Look how miserably she failed, the worry making it hard to breathe, harder to concentrate. Shouldn't he be back by now? Shouldn't he?

Every few minutes, she checks the journal for signs of life. Ignores Buttercup begging for real food. Glances at the door to see if Peeta's finally return. No luck. No luck at all. He's supposed to be back today. Why isn't he back yet?]

[Voice]

Why do you bother? [The words aren't meant to be recorded in the journal, but they are, anyway. It barely processes to Katniss that she's left it laying open, close enough to pick up any mutterings.] Going on these missions? Being a piece in their games?

It's stupid. This is all stupid.

[ooc: timed to after mission is over, when people start arriving home. but if you want to tag during -- feel free to have katniss in the bakery making a mess from friday on!

also, edit for warning of sexual content in the Peeta thread.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[What was that?] Going into space? [Eggman sounds genuinely surprised and intrigued.] When was this?

June.

[She thinks. She tries not to remember. It wasn't a good time. Maybe being among the stars should have been appealing, amazing. But she had been given no choice. Absolutely no choice. And she had been made to fight.

Then, when she returned, Rue was gone. It was awful. Everything about it was awful.]

Curses! I just missed it. [Eggman didn't think he'd ever be disappointed about not being in Luceti, but there we go.] Imagine the data I could have gathered in space. What kind of spaceships do the Malnosso have?

[Though it's only a photograph, there are wide eyes displayed in the journal. A doubtful kind of look. Does he really think she'd know?

All she wanted to do is go home.]

A... ship that can go into space?

Yes, exactly! Do you realise the implications of such a feat? Imagine if we commandeered one of the Malnosso's battleships!

[It's hard for her to imagine. She's been in hovercrafts a number of times, but rarely in the cockpit. Commandeering something bigger just seems impossible.]

I wouldn't know how to fly it.

Ho ho, don't worry. I'm a genius and well-versed in space technology. I'm sure there can still be some use for you, though.

[But that's just it, isn't it? Every reason why she had asked about missions on the network to begin with.]

I don't want to be of any use.

You were just complaining about being trapped here, and now you don't want to escape?

[It's not being trapped that she has much of a problem with. It's being used. The missions and the drafts and being forced to fight a fight that isn't hers.

She's done her part. She played the Mockingjay.]

That's not it.

[If only Eggman could read your inner monologue, Katniss.]

Then enlighten me, because I don't think I understand.

[If only.]

I don't care where I am. [Because even if District Twelve was home, it was still her prison. As much of an enclosed space as Luceti. A place for the Mockingjay to be kept, far away from the public eye, where she wouldn't be a nuisance to anyone.] I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want to be a piece in their games.

If you don't want to be a piece in their games, then why sit back and let them keep you here? That is exactly what they want.

No. They want us to fight.

[As far as she can see, they don't care what happens in the enclosure. Just so long as they participate in the Gamemakers' stupid war.]

Edited 2012-09-08 16:46 (UTC)

Sitting here makes you a guinea pig for the experiments they dare to call "science". Imagine all of the data they gain from you, even if you do nothing. We're more than just prisoners.

You're right of course, they do want us to fight. But they also want us to win their war by capturing their soldiers alive, last time I checked. Killing the Third Party means we can perpetuate this war and leave the Malnosso vulnerable. But that relies on us being drafted. Volunteering for missions is much faster and gives us other, similar opportunities. Surely you can see the point in that?

[She can. She can see it all too, too clearly. The reminder of the experiments especially bothers her. The idea of being watched, studied - be it for the Malnosso's entertainment or enrichment. That's too much like the Games. Too much like life in Panem.

And it makes her uncomfortable. It was easier to pretend otherwise. To just think of being trapped, try to ignore any experiments or missions or drafts. She doesn't want to fight. Not ever, ever again.

She has nothing to say, though. The only response captured by the journal is a glower.]

Eh... I'll take that as an "I'll think about it", shall I?

[That sounds about as good to her as anything.]

Yeah.