stillplaying: ([happy] it's good to see you too)
She sits on the blanket she brought to beach, staring at the surf as it crashes on to the shore. It reminds her a little of the brief time she had spent in District 4 during the Victory Tour. But instead of Peeta here keeping her company, a boy she hasn't seen for months and is starting to wonder if she'll ever see again, she's waiting for someone else. In the time she's spent in Itinere, she hasn't made many friends. That doesn't bother her, though. She likes the people she's gotten to know. Besides, her full reason for staying is her sister.

It had come as a little bit of a surprise when Peter suggested a picnic by the water. She rarely spent much time by the water, preferring to hide in the forest when not in town. Now, she's wondering why. It is kind of pretty out here and the smell of the sea air is kind of relaxing. Coming early had been a good idea.
stillplaying: ([fear] please please no)
"It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly. When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself..."

She's never been good at hiding her secrets from Peeta. Not when they had first entered the Hunger Games together seventeen years ago. Not now, all these years later, after spending fifteen of them so close together. They've shared the same house for years now. It's been so many, that it's hard to remember a time when she had been in District 12 alone. Normally, she's grateful. So utterly grateful for Peeta's time and patience and love. But in the past couple of days, that gratefulness has disappeared.

It's her own naivety that's kept the secret this long. Prim had always been the one to help their mother with anything remotely medical or pharmaceutical in nature. The most she ever contributed had been the plants she had encountered during her treks in the forest. The memories linger - all of her memories do - but they seem so far away. From a different lifetime. She's long made her peace with that. Older now (and maybe a little wiser), she understands the uprising had been necessary. For all she had sacrificed, life is different now. For her and for Peeta. For Haymitch, Effie, Gale, and everyone else who lived through the events of that time. Maybe even more so for all the new children born every year, children that will never face the threat of the Hunger Games. Ones that will never grow up confined to their District or status or wealth.

There's freedom now. Freedoms that make all the sacrifices worth it.

She had spent the last few weeks or so wondering if she had been coming down with something. The fatigue, the aches, the nausea, those mornings spent with her hunt delayed as she took a detour to find a place to empty her stomach of breakfast. With winter settling in to the fall, sickness still wasn't all that uncommon in 12. Winter colds, flues and other viruses. She had dismissed her symptoms just as that. Symptoms that she's caught this year's cold. Nothing that she wouldn't get over, wouldn't pass.

Though they've talked, discussed the possibility of a family of their own, she had always been so afraid. Only recently had she come to warm to the idea - and not just for Peeta's sake. She just never expected it to happen so soon.

Peeta will be home soon. He doesn't know that she's visited the doctor today, finally sought explanation for the symptoms she's done her best to hide from him. The diagnoses had confirmed what she already suspected, had expected since feeling the flutters within her stomach days ago. The fear she feels almost overhwelms her if she lets herself stop and think.

So she doesn't. She keeps pacing back and forth in their living room. Even though they've discussed this, she doesn't know how he'll react.

He'll be home soon.

Soon.
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stillplaying: ([others] tributes from district 12)
They sit on the couch together, more space between them than there's been since his return to District 12. It's mostly her fault this time rather than his. He hasn't had any flashbacks today, experienced any moments of hijacked memories that break apart the reality they've begun to build together. He's almost been like the Peeta she remembers. That boy who risked a beating to give her bread.

She wishes for a second that she could still be that girl. That this was another time, another place. Or that Haymitch had been damned brave enough to leave his drunken stupor behind just for a moment and join them. They both tried. They had both given up rather quickly.

He should be here, though. He should be here. He had been the one to make the final decision, whose vote had made a difference. At least, that's what she tells herself even if, really, she blames herself for what is about to happen. She knew how Haymitch would have voted. Knew without a doubt. Because in the end, they'll always be too much alike.

And even now, even as she doesn't have to face the next half hour alone, she's isolating herself. It may not be the white alcohol, but it's still something. She's the one who took the seat on the other end of the couch, the one who won't even look in his direction. Because even after his hijacking, he had remained good deep down. Better than her.

All she had cared about was revenge then. Even now, months and months after that final vote, the feelings still linger.

Paylor's voice breaks the silence in the room. The anthem of Panem plays in the background and she knows it's about to start. Her heart skips a beat, breath caught in her throat and she freezes in her seat. She's terrified. Ashamed. Broken and yet triumphant all at once. She wants nothing more than to be held by Peeta or to hold him.

But she can't move. She can't do anything but stare at the screen.
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stillplaying: ([action] in pain)
It's not unusual for nightmares to visit her during her sleep. More often than not, her dreams are reminders of mutts and death and children that never had a chance to live. She doesn't have happy dreams. She doesn't deserve happy dreams. She tried once to explain it to Dr. Aurelius - how she still deserved those dreams that made her awake screaming. But she couldn't find the words. Even now, months later, she has trouble finding those words.

But Peeta understands. Somehow, he's always understood. It's been weeks now, weeks since they've started sharing a bed again. At first, she had been afraid. Afraid that he'd wake up and try to strangle her, completely forgetting what's real and what's not. But as the days passed, that never happened. Instead, he had been there each and every night.

Tonight's no exception.

Though she wakes up screaming, she knows she's not alone. She can feel him stir even as her heart beats rapidly in her chest. It had just been a dream. It had just been a dream. A dream that still feels too real. Watching Peeta die tonight. In that clock arena, Finnick unable to resuscitate him like he had. She chokes back sobs and curls up in a fetal position, tears stinging her eyes.
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