Katniss Everdeen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stillplaying) wrote2012-08-19 01:01 pm
stillplaying) wrote2012-08-19 01:01 pm
Entry tags:
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.]
[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.]
writing
Oh. Well that's nice. He sighs and scribbles in a reply:]
Tomorrow.
[He complains about it a bit, but ultimately he gets over it and gets on with his day.
But tomorrow, before their scheduled meeting he'll make sure to write a message before taking a detour to the woods.]
Will you make it?
writing --> action
She places a light kiss on Peeta's lip before slipping out of bed, showering, dressing. She checks on the condition of her arrows and restrings her bow, determined to make up for the lack of work yesterday. It's only last minute does she think of checking the journal - making certain Cato hasn't announced anything else - and sees his message. She scribbles one back:]
I'll make it.
[True to her word this time, she's at the station when she said she'd be. Earlier in fact. She leans against the building, fingers running against the fletching of an arrow as she waits. She looks up every now and then, not one to be taken by surprise.]
action
He couldn't begrudge her for not wanting to ruin the moment. Even if some jerk had went and ruined it for them. He still remembered how it was with him and Suki.
Either way, he doesn't look annoyed when he showed up. Just typical sarcastic.]
Nice of you to decide to show up this time.
action
Knowing Cato's message though, and just how public it was, makes her blush when Sokka speaks. Did he see it? Probably. It was hard to miss, wasn't it? She ducks her head and tries her best to forget everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours. Otherwise, she might never make it through this conversation.]
Something came up yesterday.
action
[Yeah. Awkward. He could tease her about it, but that's not what they're really here for, is it? So he settles for a simple:]
Congrats. Cinna's a nice guy. Really handy with makeup too. In a very manly way, though! Like, you know, I bet he'd be great with warrior paint.
[Unfortunately Sokka only knew him through the mission.]
action
[She's almost thankful to hear that name. Almost. It gives her a chance to forget everything else. Forget that he heard, for that stupid, stupid congratulations. Forget how much she still so desperately needed to harm Cato in revenge for what he did.
Her head snaps up and she's almost primed to strike Sokka instead. There's a threatening look in her eyes. The kind that promises retribution if her answers were not met. Forget that the context in which the name was used was completely and utterly wrong.
Distracted with events, Peeta never mentioned the fake name he used on the mission.]
Cinna's here? But... it's not time yet, is it? For the newcomers to arrive?
action
I... but. Isn't Cinna the guy that, you know, you hooked up with?
action
[She says the word quietly as pieces start to click together. She doesn't full understand, not yet. But for some reason, the boy thinks that Peeta's Cinna. Even though he isn't. Could never be. And the thought of... of doing that with Cinna is just...
...just...
...disgusting.
She shakes her head, frowning.] No. Peeta... Peeta's my... [Boyfriend. It would be so easy to say the word. And yet she stumbles.] That's Peeta. The boy in the bakery.
Where did you hear that name? Cinna?
action
[He sighs.]
Mutual friend from back home, huh?
action
Cinna, who died all too soon. Because of her. Because of the Mockingjay.]
He was my stylist in the Games. [A pause.] My friend, too.
action
But they were here to talk about something important, right? So he went to go sit at the stairs to the New Feather station. Collect his thoughts and stuff.]
So. The big question. Why go on missions, right?
action
She misses Cinna. Misses him a lot.
But that's not why they were here. Either of them. So she nods, trying to get back on track.]
Why do you?
action
Luceti has been here for almost five years. And it just happens over and over. People leave and forget. We just live here. Waiting for bad things to happen. Enjoying the good things when we can. But that's it. Maybe I was okay with that for awhile, because going home would be fine. I wouldn't have to fight for anything.
But I'm still here. So I go on the missions. I do what they tell me, because maybe eventually I'll learn something that will change everything. Or I'll get an opportunity to break free. I'm playing by their rules, but only because we both get something out of it. Maybe I'm risking injury doing it and I do get hurt a lot when I fight for them, but it's worth it. Just going home and forgetting everything that happened isn't good enough anymore. Things have to change here. Otherwise I might just come back and forget everything. That's not enough. I need more. I've killed too many people for them to just wait and see what happens next.
[Two days ago, there was a lot of fire in what he wanted to say. There still was. But there was a resigned sense of sadness present there. The idea was still the same. But he wasn't nearly so adamant about it. Especially with how long it had been preying on his mind as he prepared an answer for her.]
action
Forgetting Peeta, forgetting this time they've spent together here is a frightening, awful prospect. Forgetting what it's like to have him love her, to be safe in his arms after being kissed all over. There's been no hijacking here. He's still every bit the boy she remembered from before. These are memories they've made without footage the Gamemakers can use to warp them. Memories they can both cling to if they're ever sent back.
No. She doesn't want to forget them. She wants Peeta to forget even less. The boy is right. There are reasons, many more aside from keeping Peeta safe on a mission.]
You're right. [She says it quietly, a minute or two after he's finished speaking.] I don't want to forget.
action
Forgetting is the worst part. [He turns away, stroking his beard.] Of course, most of us are just doing it to gather information until we can really screw them over.
[There's a small teasing grin despite the seriousness of what he had said moments before.]
action
She doesn't want to be curious. She has no desire to be a part of any rebellion ever again. But she can't help it. The question is on her tongue before she realizes what she's saying.]
Screw them over?
action
[Though he needs to find out what person to punch.]
action
[What do you expect? That's really all there is to it. The Malnosso don't care about them, don't care about anybody but themselves. Experiments instead of entertainment, perhaps, but it's still all the same in the end. Being used for someone else's gain.]
action
[Have they? He's trying to think here. He's seen the games in the Rec Center. Did they make those?]
action
At least, she hopes not.
For a few seconds, she resumes playing with the fletching of her arrow. Thinking. Remembering. When she does talk, she doesn't look up.]
Gamemakers were the people that designed and ran the Hunger Games. In Panem, in my home. Twenty-four children were selected to fight to the death every year. [She glances up now and rolls her eyes.] The highest form of entertainment you could find.
action
... that's sick. What kind of monsters would be entertained by something like that!?
action
But that doesn't mean she's about to defend them.]
People who considered it fair penance for a war the Districts lost to the Capitol seventy-six years ago. People whose children would never be entered in the reaping. [A shrug.] I don't know.
action
But you know that already, I guess.
action
And never, ever thought she'd fall in love with Peeta Mellark.]
Peeta and I were both tributes. We won. [She hesitates just for a moment before continuing.] There are others here, too.
action
I take it they didn't.
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