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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[ ...he witnesses the broadcast, but finds himself utterly lost for words. utterly damnably lost. sharpe can't dredge up anything that might help or else might make sense of what katniss is enduring. he remembers the feelings well enough, he simply never learned how to help someone else through them.

but in those wee hours of the morn -- as he listens to her questions while he's cleaning out his rifle -- richard sharpe makes a decision. it's the sort of decision he should ask katniss about before making, but he's not sure the girl would accept help that was merely offered instead of insisted.

and so -- by the time katniss returns to her house -- she may find sharpe kneeling awkwardly at her front door, prodding at it with a lockpick he so very rarely gets to use. ]

[She's gone most of the morning, not coming back until hunger gets the better of her. Spending time in the library has already risked enough social interaction. Going to the restaurant would only chance more.

With every intention to return to the library after a quick meal, Katniss makes her way back to her house. Her bow and quiver are carefully slung over her shoulder in habit, with a few books in hand. She's not paying that much attention to her surroundings, still lost in thought more than anything else.

But all thought goes away when she sees Richard kneeling at her door. She stops in mid-step and frowns.]

What are you doing?

I may be able to come up with something.

[Because it is always, always useful to have someone deeply in one's debt. And now that he's worked Saori's ritual on himself and gotten the shape of it, he thinks he can probably modify it here and there to be used on someone else, with their willing participation.]

[ he swears under his breath, unable to properly catch the tumbler mechanism in the lock. but then katniss's voice cuts across his concentration and he glances up.

a few seconds beat by. and then he scrambles to his feet, the lockpick still stuck in the lock. ]

...You weren't here. [ he explains -- lamely. he'd arrived and she hadn't answered his knock at the door, so he went to plan b and hoped he could slip in and out and leave something in the house as a sort of...surprise. ] So I thought I might -- ah -- let myself in.

[She nods slowly, glancing from the lockpick in hand to the door to the face of the man holding the pick. The confused frown on her face is still there. The surprise at seeing anyone attempting to break into her house.

Why would they want to? She really doesn't have anything worth stealing. Not that Richard would steal from her.]

Why?

[She stares at this response for a long, long time before finally replying. This is what she wants, isn't it? Something, some way to forget. To only remember the boy from Panem, not the boy she got to know here in Luceti as well.

Then why does she feel so hesitant?]

How?

You will tell no one of this conversation.

[She should switch this over to a video feed. Because the look she gives him in response is probably answer enough. Does he think her stupid? Why would she tell anyone of this? It's her own problem to sort through. Nothing that anyone has said or done has made her feel remotely better about losing Peeta.

But yet, the way the phrase is structured as more of a sentence instead of a question makes her wary. Eyes narrow just a bit.]

Why?

[ he lifts a cloth sack. dull thuds and rattles produce forth from its insides. ]

This is why.

[Oak listened carefully to the whispered voice on the journal. She sounded so sad, so hurt... but her words justify those feelings. To miss someone, whether a friend or loved one, and knowing that they may never return isn't something anyone should be dealing with, even though it's a part of life. The Professor knows; he's been there, but he had also gotten over it in time. This is what this young woman needs, time and someone to be there for her until she has the strength to carry on]

The one thing you don't want to do is forget. [He says this in a calm and gentle voice] I know it's painful right now, but what will you gain forgetting the memories you've shared with him?

[He switches it over to video so he can give her a look. His tone is exceedingly sardonic.]

If you haven't already been subjected to a series of tiresome lectures about how memories are important and one should nobly work through such pain and... blah blah blah, I think you ought to brace yourself for them.

[As if there is something special about suffering.]

This is not a favor I would do for just anyone, and I much prefer to keep some of my skills private.

[All suspicions immediately turn to the cloth sack he holds. The way something inside of it seems to be moving. She doesn't look happy, not at all pleased the way someone ought to when possibly receiving a gift. Instead, she's wary. So very, very wary.]

What is that?

[There have been lectures here and there. With Dr. Aurelius back when Prim died. With Peeta after Rue's departure. With a whole host of people she can't quite remember after losing Peeta and coming back from the dead. A lot of lectures. But none all that recent. At least, none so far today.

She's good at tuning people out, though. So she's not so worried. At least, not about the lectures.

His response, however, causes her to raise an eyebrow.]

Then why are you willing to help me?

[She doesn't want to forget everything. Not the time spent in the arenas, not the way he had offered her the bread all those years ago. Not Snow's hijacking or how, despite that, he still saved her life the day she tried to take it. That she wants to remember. The important bits. The bits that made Peeta Peeta to her.

What she wants to forget is that look in his blue eyes the first time she told him that she loved him and meant it. The way it had felt to have his arms and body around her in the night. How the kisses and the hunger for him helped lessen the pain. What it was like when their relationship was actually real.]

It's been four months. [She responds quietly, blinking back more tears.] It hasn't gotten better.

[A shrug.]

Two reasons. You've offered a trade. And because I feel like it.

Our conversations have always been quite cordial.

[Another sardonic smile.] I am well acquainted with the horrors of remembered happiness.

The healing process has no set time limit. You recover at your own pace.

[It's worrisome to know that things are getting worse for her rather than better. It leaves Oak wondering how she's been dealing with the pain during that time frame and if her actions were constructive rather than destructive. Perhaps if she's willing to tell him, maybe he would be able to help her more. Hopefully she trusts him enough to tell him what he needed to know]

If you don't mind sharing, how are you coping with your loss? Have you confided in someone in the past four months or are you handling this on your own?

[She bites on her lower lip for a moment. It's not so much horror. Not really. Not compared to the images that appear in her dreams at night. Those are horrors. Absolutely horrible, painful memories that tend to blur the lines between real and not real by the end of the night.

But those are nightmares she's accepted as a part of her life. Penance for all the deaths she's caused.

But happiness? She doesn't know how that fits in.]

What would you want in return?

[He sounds a little like Dr. Aurelius and that's enough to make her frown. Asking how she's coping, if she's confided in anyone. All he has to do is ask if she's eaten, made certain that she's remembered to take her meds for the day and she might as well be back in District 13 or in the Capitol. It makes her frown, staring at the journals if it would reveal the man behind the voice.

The questions also make her shift a little uncomfortably. She knows she hasn't necessarily handled this well. Not when her first reaction had been to kill herself, opting for death by Career.]

Sometimes.

[Teddy had been just about to head for bed, with Billy already asleep and waiting. But as he'd sat on his own bed and slid his pajamas on, he decided to do his nightly check of the journal, mostly just for hero reasons. If someone needed their help late at night, then he didn't want to just go to sleep on it.

That's when he hears Katniss' desperate pleas and requests, and that's when he feels his heart constrict in his chest. He wants to fight against it and say that time heals all memories, that they can be turned into strength. But with the way she is right now... Teddy's sure that that wouldn't help. And really, he wonders what it'd be like, if Billy went home, leaving him without someone to love or love him in return, with everything already piled against him...

He doesn't think he'd ask someone to remove his memories of him, but who knows, if it happened to him? So instead of going to Billy's room, he goes to his closet instead, hunting for his coat.]

Katniss, where are you right now? [His voice is hushed, as Billy is asleep and happens to be a pretty light sleeper on top of that.]

[She sniffles a little as she reaches for the journal, Buttercup mewing again from his seat on top of it. It's not the first time the damn cat's made himself at home in her room. Since Peeta left, he's been a nightly visitor. As if watching over her during the night will keep her safe from harm, will provide him with some purpose now that Prim has left them both.

She scowls at the animal, batting one scarred arm in his direction. Buttercup hisses in response and swats at her before running to the other side of the bed. Hiding the journal isn't going to help her. Especially when she recognizes the voice coming through.]

Teddy?

At the moment, there is nothing I want. [And it may all end up a moot point anyway, if the project is successful, but Loki has always been one to hedge his bets.]

All I would ask is that, in the future, you remember who has done you a favor.

Yeah, it's me.

[Coat found and slid on over pajamas, he decides not to speak up again until after he's out of his room and near the entrance to their apartment. Best not to risk it, not with this kind of subject. They might joke about it sometimes, but ever since Nate went back to his time, Billy'd never been fond of the idea of changing a memory or making someone forget about something. Teddy admires that, but that sort of thing just wouldn't be helpful right now.]

Are you at home? Or were you going to go somewhere? [It's what he does sometimes, if he can't sleep and doesn't particularly want to wake Billy up. Just get out and wander until his thoughts and memories stop colliding in his head.]

Edited 2013-03-11 21:17 (UTC)

Home.

[She stares out into the dark room, the little bit of light shining in through her windows reflecting on cat eyes. Going out somewhere seems too difficult. It means getting out of the bed, away from the flimsy safety provided by the sheet. She's too jumpy right now, anyway. The memories of all those deaths still too haunting.

She doesn't want to harm anyone. Doesn't want to kill anyone. She just wants everything as it was, with Peeta to comfort her after every nightmare.]

I'm not going out.

[She shakes her head. As desperate as she is for a solution to her pain, for a way to make deal with the loss of Peeta from her life, she won't be reckless. She's been used as a game piece by too many people. Had both her emotions and actions manipulated for their purposes. Killed for them.

She won't put herself in that position again. Not even if it meant her happiness or peace of mind.]

It needs to be more specific than that.

Okay. I'm coming over, all right? I'll be there in a few minutes.

[Because she shouldn't be alone right now. Shouldn't have to suffer through nightmares and memories, ones she wants to get rid of, alone.

Thankfully, he knew where to go, having stopped by her house a few times either to walk to or from lessons, though he never went inside. He'll fly now, figuring that walking would take too long. It'll be a little cold, having to take off his shirt and fly in the still winter air, but that won't matter much, compared to what's going on at his destination.]

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