stillplaying | 12th Game [voice/action]

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12th Game [voice/action]

[There are some nights where she can't sleep. Can't fall asleep to begin with, can't stay asleep once she's there. The nightmares become too intense. She awakes crying, screaming, gasping for breath. Curled up in a ball, clutching her knees to her chest in as tight a fetal position as she can get. And alone. So very, very alone in the dark, dark room.

Those kinds of nights have grown more and more common since Peeta's departure, since her death. Even Buttercup's plaintive mewling in the night hasn't made it any better. The pain and fear doesn't fade. It lasts long, long into the morning on the nights she's unable to go back to sleep. Turns into another fitful nightmare otherwise.

In one short month, there's been a lot to think about. Too much to think about. She's been stuck here a year now. Seen various shifts and experiments. Fallen in love and then lost that love. Died. In the most recent shift, while she hadn't been forced to fall in love against her will, she had watched it happen, even observed it first hand in once case. All of it, more than anything, had made her think of Peeta.

Think and mourn until she thought that she would burst from all the heartache.

During the early morning, she awoke screaming, thrashing in her bed as her nightmares played Prim's death out for her again. Prim's death followed by that of Rue's. And Peeta's electrocution in the clock arena. How she had screamed and rushed forward, how he would have been dead if not for Finnick's quick thinking.

So, so many deaths. And all because of her.

As she moves about in the bed, screaming and crying, she knocks the journal down on the floor. Buttercup mews and she just screams again, a wordless, animal scream. Whimpering and sobbing, she does eventually come to her senses. Her body remains cocooned in the sheets as she reaches for the journal, face tear-stained and lost.

She misses him. Maybe more than that, she misses having someone to comfort her in the night when the memories get to be too much.]

Gale was right. [The words are whispered, an acknowledgment to words long past that she once overheard. It's never going to be about love for her. It'll only be about who will extend her longevity in the end. Who'll make her life easier to bear. And if Peeta's not here, how could it possibly be him?

She stares at the journal a few minutes more before clearing her voice and finally speaking, wiping away any lingering tears.]

I know that when you die here, they'll take things from you. And they'll change things during the shifts. Hijack you and alter your memories.

Can you get them to do that even outside a shift? How would you contact them? I-- I want them gone. The memories of Peeta being here. I don't want to miss him anymore, miss--

[Being in love. Being loved. But she doesn't know how to say that part aloud. She wishes for a brief moment she had kept some of that candy from the spa. The stuff that made her open up more. It'd make this all the more easier.]

Is there a magic? Please? Something, anything? I don't have much to offer, but I am a good hunter. I'll trade game and pelts. Anything you want.

I want to move on. I want to forget. And I don't know how else to do it. [Richard's advice comes to mind. She's already thrown herself in hunting, thrown herself in anything and everything she can think of to distract her. It hasn't worked. Not at all. So that leaves only the other thing he recommended: moving on.] He might never come back. I might never go back. I-- I don't want to be lonely anymore. I want to move on.

[With that, she closes the journal to go get dressed. Her hair is pulled back in a messy braid before she heads out. Not to hunt. Not today. Instead, she goes to the library. She has research to do.]

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[She makes a face at that, even if the woman at the other end of the journal can't see it. The person she was now. Was that really so much a different person than she had been before allowing herself to love Peeta? She wasn't certain. Maybe she had more friends now, but wouldn't that have happened anyway?

But the rest of it? The love part? The relationship part? The sex part? Did all of that really matter? Did that really change her in any kind of significant way? How could she even tell?]

I... I don't understand.

[Whether or not being around this girl is supposed to make one feel better, at the very least, she certainly provides enough of a distraction. And it's kind of nice. It gives Katniss a chance not to focus on her nightmares. Not to focus on her sadness. Instead, she tries to puzzle out this girl's confusing background.

And confusing words. But something said at the winter dance comes back to her. The explanation for that holiday she had opted not to celebrate.]

No. There's nothing like that in Panem.

[A Star Fleet Captain. She thinks she vaguely remembers him mentioning something similar before. Something about spaceships and planets and all those strange things that she can't even imagine. For now, it's easier to presume that it's something like being a Captain in the Peacekeepers. Or some rank similar to that of Richard's army.

So he went from someone who could have been in jail to someone with some sort of authority. She tries comparing it to her own life and fails. There's nothing left for her to do. Nothing left that she wants to do aside from live her life in peace.]

There's nothing I want to do. I just want to be left alone.

[She had been following him until the very end. As grim and despairing as his words had been, they had made sense. He had described the last three years of her life immaculately. Ever since Effie Trinket had pulled Prim's name from the reaping bowl, Katniss had felt life had been synonymous with tragedy.

And just when she had thought life could maybe return to normal, when the war seemed almost over, the worst had happened. Prim had died. Her little sister. The girl she had easily sacrificed everything for to protect.

This man's right. Life does worsen still. It finds a way. A way to knock you back down once you've gotten up again.

But that last bit...]

You mean like in faith, don't you? Like in religion? [Her nose wrinkles and she shakes her head.] We don't have that in Panem.

[Maybe he has a point. And she easily had been one of those people. She had been desperate then, too. Desperate and stupidly naive.]

It stops me.

[He left his mark on you.

Richard had said something to that effect that day in the spa when she had explained Peeta to him. When she had explained how much she had loved him. But she still has a hard time thinking of any credible influence he might have had. Aside from learning just how much love - romantic love - could hurt.

Did that count?]

Yes. No? [How can she explain this without embarrassing herself? Without talking about things that she shouldn't talk about with a stranger?] I don't know. It's complicated. What we had... It was complicated.

[He inclines his head slightly, almost as if challenging her.]

All right.

That's alright, a lot of people don't, and I've never been good at explaining. I guess angels are around to make people happy and help them, to put it as simply as possible.

[Kohaku hates to confuse people, back home she lives as a human, so she's never had to explain herself to anyone but Shuichiro, though he's special.]

Because it's a part of you. Running away or forgetting isn't going to change that fact.

[Then, more quietly:]

The only thing that will make them go away is to accept the memories. Accept them, and then you can move on.

[She scowls again. Thinking is one of the last things she wants to do right now. Thinking or contemplating or trying to solve any riddles or mysteries. She just wants to be left alone to sulk. Or offered a way to forget. Because even if she does go home, it won't be the same. Peeta won't be the same.

He'll still be recovering from his hijacking. He might not want to start anything with her, not that Katniss would blame him. No, she wouldn't blame that Peeta at all if he didn't love her.

But she's not going to explain this to the man, a total stranger. She's had enough. She doesn't want to puzzle out these cryptic hints.

Without saying a word, she disconnects the feed.]

By making you breakfast to start.

[He dips his head to kiss her hair, offers one last squeeze before stepping back to walk to the kitchen. His hand drops to hers, curls in it, and he uses that to tug her down with him. Leading her like that as she'd led him to her home when he'd returned.]

Lives such as ours are often littered with darker thoughts and experiences. I know you do not take comfort in the same way that I do- with bodies in your bed and wine in hand, but that does not mean you should not try to find your own bit of light to hold onto when you are able. Spring is coming. We might hunt together in the mornings once more- I could take you fishing. Invite you over to the house- the boys and I are moving into one of them soon, and you could dine with us as we laugh, eat, and play music.

[He squeezes her hand.]

I find it very difficult to remember the darker parts of my life while in their company. Perhaps they might do the same for you.

Complicated, huh? You know, that's sometimes the best kind of friendship. Those do affect you in ways you probably wouldn't even be able to think of.

I'm not going to tell you what you should do, but if it were me, I think I'd be scared of the kind of person I'd turn out to be if I forgot someone like that to me.

[And ironically, he knows what he's talking about without even knowing it himself.]

It hurts every day when I think of the people I've lost in my life, but I don't want to ever forget them because I wouldn't want to be forgotten either.

[Lowly, a shadow passing over his brow:]

All the better that there should be nothing in which to blindly place your faith, and more... as will so many.

[Faith. He spits the world like a thick, black poison swirling in his mouth.

One had to take control of one's own life, not throw themselves onto their knees and turn wet, desperate eyes heavenward, begging and pleading that things might change for the better, he muses darkly. It had done him no good. What had He ever done to help? What had He ever cared?]

... I figured. But... there's a reason for that.

Do you have... any friends here? Or anyone you're close to?

[It took Oak a moment to find out that he was disconnected from the feed, but did nothing except to let out a disappointing sigh. He failed, but did the best he could to help the young woman. He can only hope that someone she trusted would tell her that forgetting those memories would cause her more harm than good. But for now, he's going to back down and occupy his mind by reading other entries that happen to be on the journal. He'll talk to her when the opportunity comes and when she's in a better mood, because this won't the last she'll hear from him.]

Edited 2013-03-19 08:28 (UTC)

[ he mistakes it for a refusal: ] I understand you not wanting to give either of those rooms up to an old soldier, love. If you're waiting for'em...

[ There is a slight distinct sound that may be a nod. ]

There are times where sacrifices must be made for the sake of everyone else, but... your personal feelings belong to you, as do your memories. [ A pause. ] Think of it like this: If entire countries were willing to erase their history and what makes up their losses and gains, who they are, there is a high guarantee that whatever happened prior is bound to happen again.

Hindsight holds importance, it keeps us more level-headed in our decisions. Whoever was here before may hold importance to your memories, but those memories are yours and yours alone. It may hurt him if you forget, but it may hurt you more if you have the chance to remember what you wish to make yourself forget. It may hurt the worst now, but over time it will serve as a stepping stone... a middle-ground.

[ She shrugs, not that Katniss can see it. ] Well, a lot of things are complicated on the surface. The trick is to cut to the center to find the truth.

[ Chuckling selfconsciously ] Wow, I sound like Princess Celestia.

You can’t love someone like you love him and not change. [Though Katniss hasn’t said as much, Pepper feels safe making the assumption. Whether it be as a dear friend or something more, the strength of what Katniss feels for Peeta is all too clear.] Maybe you’re willing to take a risk you weren’t before, or acting more cautiously because you don’t want to hurt that person.

Or maybe you can actually cry because you miss them so much, if you were the sort of person who kept everything bottled up inside. [She hesitates, her voice softer when she speaks again.] Maybe you became the sort of person who could tell someone that you love them, when they’d never thought they’d hear those words from you.

I know it hurts. But do you really want to lose what you have left of him?

If there's anything else you need you can ask me. Even if you just need to talk or...well, anything. Any time.

[It's the least she can offer at this point.]

[He felt like making a point. When removing pain, why stop? But Jade did not feel anything like putting any effort into arguing his point - how foolish he considered it to put the mind, one's greatest weapon, at such a risk while blinded by emotion. But he didn't know enough to get a good read on her; he wasn't sure if he wanted one.]

My apologies. Clearly, I misunderstand.

[Loki tries to refrain from words like 'stubborn wench' or 'foolish cow' and bites his lower lip really hard to prevent words like that from coming out.

Perhaps it is just better to not bother at all. If she wishes to inflict such things on herself, so be it.]

Personally, from a very personal point of view, I do not exactly wish to get to know you. So there's that. Perhaps it will bring some relief.

But since I am not unfamiliar with your situation and how it feels to be without the one you...are fond of, your plan to tamper with your memory in order to forget him is so utterly dumb that it angers me.

[He takes a deep breath.]

But it is your mind, not mine. I am sure you will find a willing sorcerer who wants to help you with performing such a ritual.

[Oh, and Loki dares to bet the contents of the entire treasury of Asgard that his older self has already been more than willing to come to Katniss' aid.]

[She hasn't spoken to Sabriel all that much. At least, she hasn't spoken to her in a while. And yet, she's acting as if no time has passed. As if they talked at a much more frequent basis.

She doesn't understand it. Doesn't get why Sabriel's being so nice. But she won't question it right now. She needs it too much.]

I will. I - same with you. If you need anyone to talk to, I'm a good listener.

[It's strange and uncomfortable, that feeling of something catching in her throat. She doesn't expect that. She doesn't expect the way her eyes sting in the face of possible rejection.

If he doesn't want to move in with her, why did he hint at it to begin with? Why get her hopes up like this?

She shakes her head and blinks back new tears. It might have been nice to have someone share this house with her again.]

It's okay. You don't... you don't have to move in. Those are just the rooms available. I can't give up the downstairs room. Not... Peeta painted it. He painted it to look like the forests outside of 12. It's why I haven't moved out of the house.

[Whether or not he's challenging her goes unnoticed. She's still too caught up in her own worries to really care. Too concerned about becoming a game piece all over again.

Katniss tilts her head, curious.]

So? Would that be okay? I won't defend you if I think that you're in the wrong.

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