Katniss Everdeen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stillplaying) wrote2012-11-07 03:27 pm
stillplaying) wrote2012-11-07 03:27 pm
10th Game [video]
[Wild dogs.
She had seen the excuse the Career had come up with. That they had been hunting together, that a pack of wild dogs had appeared and caused them to split. They had chosen to pursue Katniss instead. Had they seen the flicker of fear in her eye? The way she looked at them and saw not the animals they were but muttations, the huge and monstrous doglike beasts with the eyes of lost children. Had she stood there then, overcome by the memories and nightmares in the wake of her loss?
She can almost see it, almost picture it clearly. It's not a bad excuse as far as excuses go. Had they been there, had they been in that arena and seen the mutts with the human eyes, they'd believe it. Believe how easy it is to be overcome by any canine like animal after that. Especially when the memories are still so vivid, especially on the heels of losing the person who helped her survive that night. She almost believes it herself. Almost.
Mostly, Katniss is surprised that Clove had said anything at all.
It's been a few days since she woke up in the treehouse, that peaceful nothing suddenly gone. She had been angry. She had grieved. Ranted and railed to the ghosts haunting her memories, alone in the treehouse, safe. Dying didn't get her sent back to District 12. Dying had accomplished little at all. It hadn't lasted. She hadn't thought it would, not in this place, not where the dead already walk among her.
She had wanted to return home so badly.
It's been a few days and by now, most of the emotions are exhausted. She's numb again, but in a different way than before. Tired. Just tired.
She returns to the village around mid-morning, unlocks the house and crawls into the bed she used to share with Peeta. The pillows and sheets still smell like him, a scent that comforts her. Remembering. Remembering Peeta. The boy with the bread, the boy that would sacrifice anything for her. The boy that had stopped her from committing suicide after Coin's assassination. The boy that hadn't been here to stop her this time. She hugs the pillow tighter to her and closes her eyes, willing herself to remember the positive. Those good memories that did exist deep inside of her.
And not to remember, oh not to remember, that this week was the week that Prim had died all of a year ago.
When she awakes, she finally remembers the journal she had brought back from the forest with her. She flips open the pages until she finds the little video screen and begins to record:]
Where I come from, we had Games. The annual Hunger Games, where every year a boy and a girl were chosen as Tributes to represent their District in a fight to the death. There would only be one winner, one survivor who would be crowned Victor and be honored by the Capitol. President Snow's way of giving the Districts a spark of hope, of showing the kindness that the Capitol was capable of even as they took our children away year after year to die while we were forced to watch and celebrate.
I was sixteen the year of the 74th Hunger Games. My sister, Prim, was twelve. It was her first year in the Reaping. Unlike me, her name had only been submitted once. She was never supposed to be chosen for the Games. But she was. I went in her place. I went and lit an entirely different spark. A spark of rebellion. That year, there were two Victors. I couldn't let Peeta die. He loved me, even then. Me? I was just playing a game. But I refused to carry the guilt of killing this boy.
The spark of rebellion grew into an inferno. The girl who was on fire lit the whole country ablaze. There are no more Hunger Games in Panem. Because I had been selfish. Because I didn't want Peeta's death on my conscience. Peeta was just... good. A good boy who refused to be changed by their Games. Who only wanted to die as himself. If anyone deserved to live, it was him.
He's gone back to Panem now. Lived, but at a great cost. He'll be tortured because of me. Hijacked. Given false memories and sent back to try and kill me. It doesn't work. Because it took a pack of wild dogs to accomplish what tributes and soldiers and even presidents could not do. I... I froze. At the memory of dog-like muttations with children's eyes ripping a boy to pieces while I watched and waited for his death to come in the night. It never did. Not until I took my last arrow, cost Peeta his leg, and sent it flying into the other boy's brain.
I'm only really good at a few things. Singing, surviving. Killing. And now it seems like I'm only really good at that last one. I can't sing anymore. I've tried since coming back but I can't. I can't and I don't know why.
[She takes a deep breath. The girl on the camera doesn't look all that upset. Confused mostly. Very confused. There's a crease between her brows, grey eyes lost in contemplation. This is a lot, the most she's spoken since arriving here. Perhaps the most she's spoken since filming one of District 13's propos. But the Mockingjay refuses to lose her voice again. There are stories that have to be told, that need to be remembered.
She thinks Peeta would be proud of her. Dr. Aurelian, too.]
I guess the point of all this is that this week, I came back to life. I died, but it didn't last. And - and I'm sorry if I worried anyone. I know what it's like to lose the people you love. A year ago, this week, despite everything I did to protect her, Prim died.
She had seen the excuse the Career had come up with. That they had been hunting together, that a pack of wild dogs had appeared and caused them to split. They had chosen to pursue Katniss instead. Had they seen the flicker of fear in her eye? The way she looked at them and saw not the animals they were but muttations, the huge and monstrous doglike beasts with the eyes of lost children. Had she stood there then, overcome by the memories and nightmares in the wake of her loss?
She can almost see it, almost picture it clearly. It's not a bad excuse as far as excuses go. Had they been there, had they been in that arena and seen the mutts with the human eyes, they'd believe it. Believe how easy it is to be overcome by any canine like animal after that. Especially when the memories are still so vivid, especially on the heels of losing the person who helped her survive that night. She almost believes it herself. Almost.
Mostly, Katniss is surprised that Clove had said anything at all.
It's been a few days since she woke up in the treehouse, that peaceful nothing suddenly gone. She had been angry. She had grieved. Ranted and railed to the ghosts haunting her memories, alone in the treehouse, safe. Dying didn't get her sent back to District 12. Dying had accomplished little at all. It hadn't lasted. She hadn't thought it would, not in this place, not where the dead already walk among her.
She had wanted to return home so badly.
It's been a few days and by now, most of the emotions are exhausted. She's numb again, but in a different way than before. Tired. Just tired.
She returns to the village around mid-morning, unlocks the house and crawls into the bed she used to share with Peeta. The pillows and sheets still smell like him, a scent that comforts her. Remembering. Remembering Peeta. The boy with the bread, the boy that would sacrifice anything for her. The boy that had stopped her from committing suicide after Coin's assassination. The boy that hadn't been here to stop her this time. She hugs the pillow tighter to her and closes her eyes, willing herself to remember the positive. Those good memories that did exist deep inside of her.
And not to remember, oh not to remember, that this week was the week that Prim had died all of a year ago.
When she awakes, she finally remembers the journal she had brought back from the forest with her. She flips open the pages until she finds the little video screen and begins to record:]
Where I come from, we had Games. The annual Hunger Games, where every year a boy and a girl were chosen as Tributes to represent their District in a fight to the death. There would only be one winner, one survivor who would be crowned Victor and be honored by the Capitol. President Snow's way of giving the Districts a spark of hope, of showing the kindness that the Capitol was capable of even as they took our children away year after year to die while we were forced to watch and celebrate.
I was sixteen the year of the 74th Hunger Games. My sister, Prim, was twelve. It was her first year in the Reaping. Unlike me, her name had only been submitted once. She was never supposed to be chosen for the Games. But she was. I went in her place. I went and lit an entirely different spark. A spark of rebellion. That year, there were two Victors. I couldn't let Peeta die. He loved me, even then. Me? I was just playing a game. But I refused to carry the guilt of killing this boy.
The spark of rebellion grew into an inferno. The girl who was on fire lit the whole country ablaze. There are no more Hunger Games in Panem. Because I had been selfish. Because I didn't want Peeta's death on my conscience. Peeta was just... good. A good boy who refused to be changed by their Games. Who only wanted to die as himself. If anyone deserved to live, it was him.
He's gone back to Panem now. Lived, but at a great cost. He'll be tortured because of me. Hijacked. Given false memories and sent back to try and kill me. It doesn't work. Because it took a pack of wild dogs to accomplish what tributes and soldiers and even presidents could not do. I... I froze. At the memory of dog-like muttations with children's eyes ripping a boy to pieces while I watched and waited for his death to come in the night. It never did. Not until I took my last arrow, cost Peeta his leg, and sent it flying into the other boy's brain.
I'm only really good at a few things. Singing, surviving. Killing. And now it seems like I'm only really good at that last one. I can't sing anymore. I've tried since coming back but I can't. I can't and I don't know why.
[She takes a deep breath. The girl on the camera doesn't look all that upset. Confused mostly. Very confused. There's a crease between her brows, grey eyes lost in contemplation. This is a lot, the most she's spoken since arriving here. Perhaps the most she's spoken since filming one of District 13's propos. But the Mockingjay refuses to lose her voice again. There are stories that have to be told, that need to be remembered.
She thinks Peeta would be proud of her. Dr. Aurelian, too.]
I guess the point of all this is that this week, I came back to life. I died, but it didn't last. And - and I'm sorry if I worried anyone. I know what it's like to lose the people you love. A year ago, this week, despite everything I did to protect her, Prim died.
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
In that case then, the best I can tell you is don't ever stop long enough to look back with regret. The person my little brother died protecting, I believe he carries on my brother's will and that he'll change the whole world with it. My father basically said the same thing before he died. Sounds like you're the type to let your sister's death do the same for you, so I bet she'd be pretty proud, eh? It's not trusting others' judgement, but it's letting them trust yours.
What was something just the two of you used to do together, if you don't mind my asking?
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
Except she can't stop looking back. Can't stop the nightmares the come at night, can't stop remembering the way her sister's body had been lit ablaze like a human torch. Can't stop blaming herself. Dying had mellowed some of the emotions, just for the past few days. But the more she talked, the more she dwelled, the more the past returned to haunt her.
She needed someone like Peeta so badly in her life. She needed that promise that life could be good again.]
I used to sing to her. [It takes a while, but she does finally respond.] At night, when she'd wake up with nightmares. After our father died, Mom shut down. I was the only one who could really look out for her.
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
What songs was she most fond of?
My little brother Ace was getting some pretty bad nightmares his first few months here. [Especially after he realized he was dead back home. Reliving Marineford? It was enough to give anyone nightmares.] I showed him a trick from my Pops, but if they return, I might try a song too, eh.
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
[Deep in the meadow, under the willow
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow...
Words she can still speak but might never be able to sing again. Words that she would sing to her little sister every night. Words she sung to a dying girl, a girl Prim's age, who had no one to volunteer in her stead for the Hunger Games. A girl who never should have died only twelve years of age.]
I don't know how much it worked. I like to think it did.
[Nightmares are hard to keep away. Being held by Peeta was what had helped her most. She doesn't know what to do now.]
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
Maybe you could sing the lullabye to the roses, eh. It might seem a little silly, but it might carry over. Time is weird here and all.
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
But all of that's beside the point. It doesn't matter whether or not she wants to sing to bushes of primroses.]
I can't sing anymore.
[Video] / [Locked 85%] 1/2
[Video] / [Locked 85%] 2/2
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
Despite death not lasting here in this strange place, there are still consequences. Things stolen from you. Important things.
It's hard to say entirely nonchalant when she replies. Though her voice stays even, her eyes betray grief.]
I died.
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
Again. And again. And again.
They've become a part of her nightmares now.]
I came back four days ago.
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
I'm doubly sorry for your loss then, eh.
I write letters to my Pops and just stick them in his memorial here, maybe until you can sing again, something similar would help?
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
Maybe, someday, she could learn to do that again. Or maybe Teddy's offer of guitar lessons, of teaching her a new way to create music, might help.
She's not sure. But she does nod, considering the idea rather than full out dismissing it.]
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
Flowers always used to be more of my brother Vista's thing, but they took on extra meaning for me after Pops died. Just an easy way to keep something around that symbolizes him.
For winter and indoors though, I go with origami. Easier to keep around.
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
Then-]
What's origami?
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
[Holds up a finger and grabs a vase with a white poppy, and a purple orchid inside.]
You can fold it to make designs, eh? My youngest brother here made me a bunch of pineapples for my birthday like that. [Wry grin. His brothers are trolls, but they learned form the best.]
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
I've never heard of any craft like that.
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
What was your sister's favorite color, or a color that reminds you most of her?
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
[She says that quickly. It had been Prim's blue eyes and blonde hair, so different from Katniss' own, that she always thought of when remembering her sister. Prim had taken after their mother in so many ways, not just in looks. Were she to have survived, Katniss has no doubt that her sister would have grown to be an excellent doctor one day.]
Blue, like her eyes.
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
Here, I can show you how to do this yourself if you want, but for now...
[He goes through some basic steps though the end result comes out like so.]
What do you think?
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
But it is pretty. So very pretty and she smiles in return.]
I like it.
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
If you'd like I can put it on a stem and you can put it in a vase from the item shop maybe, eh?
Or you can do what my little brother did and string them up. [Holds up the journal and shows off a string of origami pineapples.] He did that for my birthday. Sabo did, I mean, not Ace. Although Ace helped.
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
But Snow's dead. He'd never leave another vase like that in her house again.]
I like the string. It'd be something to do when it starts snowing.
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
All right you can string through the bottom part and they'll hang like on a vine, and I'll show you how to make some extras too.
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
She smiles.]
Thank you.
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
[Video] / [Locked 85%]
[Video] / [Locked 85%]