stillplaying | 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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Sometimes silence can speak louder than words; there can be so much meaning in a hesitant pause. It almost feels like a kick to her gut, the way Katniss' sounds so small, almost fragile.]

What if it you couldn't get those memories back? You might lose more than you intend to with a spell like this...

[What does she really have to lose? More pain, more sadness? Memories of the deaths she caused: those she's killed and those that have died because of her. Memories of children dying. Memories of a mother utterly unresponsive even when her daughters needed her most.

There's not much in her life really worth remembering in the end. Maybe the way her dad sung, the way his voice made the birds fall silent, too. How happy Prim had been when Katniss gave her Lady. Or the way Peeta looked at that Halloween masque when she finally told him--

--no. No. That's exactly the kind of memory she doesn't want anymore.]

I want to move on, Sabriel. [She takes a deep breath, pausing for a moment.] I'm... I'm tired of missing him.

[Sabriel chews on her lip in thought for a moment longer, quietly stewing over the predicament here. She really does want to help you Katniss, but this spell is too much for her to handle.]

I understand. I may not be able to do the spell for you but I can help you look for someone who can. There has to be a better method than the way I know. Some of my housemates are skilled magic users, I can ask them.

[It's not outright refusal and for that, Katniss looks grateful. That she's willing to help in any sort of way is more than others have thus far offered. The lack of criticism, especially, puts her more at ease.

It's appreciated. Very much appreciated. But right now, she still has trouble trying to find the words to say so aloud.

So she nods and tries to smile. It's a sad and weak smile.]

Okay.

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.]

[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 hard for Sabriel not to feel for Katniss when they have an ache like this in common, not to mention that their first meeting meant a lot to her. If there was a way someone could help her from missing Touchstone so much she'd be grateful...so if she can do anything, even just a small thing for the other young woman she'd want to.]

Thank you, Katniss.

You're welcome.

[She even attempts a small smile to accompany the words. But it's flat and lackluster, not at all joyous in any way. To do that would be far too difficult right now.

She opens her mouth as if to say more but freezes. What should she say? Something, right? Continue this discussion, continue to reach out somehow. But she's not sure how. Or with what.]

12th Game [voice/action]

[Voice]

[Voice]

[Voice]

[Voice]

[Voice]

[Voice]

[Voice]

[Voice]