14th Game [action]

2013-05-08 11:35
stillplaying: ([happy] just a girl)
[Nineteen.

Once upon a time, she had never thought that she'd live to see this day. When she had volunteered to take Prim's place in the 74th Hunger Games, she had figured herself already dead. That sixteen would be the last birthday she ever saw. But instead, her sister would get to live to see many more. To see thirteen and fourteen, fifteen, sixteen and on. The idea had been to die so Prim could live.

She hadn't counted on winning. Nor had she counted on breaking the rules in the process, lighting a spark that led to a fire catching around the Districts of Panem. She hadn't counted on a lot.

Like awaking on her birthday on a cramped couch in her living room, not in District 12 but in another world. A world that Prim was now in, could now be the first to wish her a happy birthday as she had every other year prior. And so she remained snuggled up in the blanket despite the urge to go hunt. First breakfast with Prim. Everything else could come later.

The rest of the day was spent as she would a normal Wednesday. She hadn't told anyone about the meaning of the day. And remained in the dark about the post Prim had made on the journal. The more important part - breakfast with Prim - had already passed.

Instead, she could be found in the forest until it's time for guitar lessons with Teddy at Cloud Nine. She does go home at some point before heading to various shops around town, looking for any kind of decorations or gifts suitable for the party she still planned on throwing for Prim.

There were far, far worse days to spend a birthday.]
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8th Game [voice]

2012-10-03 13:47
stillplaying: ([sad] sad)
( for tl;dr )

Her journal lies at the foot of the bed, mostly ignored. Every now and then, she looks through it. She looks for a message from Maturin or some sign that there's an explanation for this - even if it is all just another cruel game being played by the Malnosso. Right now, though, she could care less as to what goes on outside the four walls of the bedroom.

So when Buttercup knocks it onto the floor and the pages open, she doesn't notice. She's lost in watching him for some sign of life as she sings. Hadn't he always said how much he's liked her voice? That she, like her father, could make the birds stop to listen?]

--dreams from all terror and fear,
Sunlight has passed and the twilight has gone,
Slumber, my darling, the night's coming on.
Sweet visions attend your sleep,
Fondest, dearest to me,
While others keep their revels,
I will watch over you.

Slumber, my darling, the birds are at rest,
The wandering dews by the flowers are caressed,
Slumber, my darling, I'll wrap you up warm,
And will shield you from harm.

Slumber, my darling, till morning's blushing ray
Brings to the world the glad tidings of day;
Fill the dark void with your dreamy delight--
Slumber, your lover will guard you tonight,
Your pillow shall sacred be
From all outward alarms;
You, you are the world to me
In all your charms.

Slumber, my darling, the birds are at rest,
The wandering dews by the flowers are caressed,
Slumber, my darling, I'll wrap you up warm,
And will shield you from harm.

[But even songs don't seem to wake him. She wipes at the tears that fill her grey eyes and only then seems to notice how Buttercup's curled up next to Peeta and how her journal now lies open to the world, recording most of the song.]

Get out of here, you stupid cat! Get out! [Rather than reach for the journal, she lunges at the animal, shoving him angrily off the bed. He lands on the floor with a hiss. Maybe, at another point, she'll find comfort in him. But right now all she sees is a reminder of the sister she lost nearly a year ago.] Go!

[Unable to stop herself any longer, she falls back in her chair, buries her face in her hands, and begins to cry.]
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