peeta_bread | IC Contact

[Rue is gone.

If anything, it's for the best. Objectively, Katniss knows it's for the best. Rue was never meant to be a piece in anyone else's game; that's the least she could've been ensured. Because she's more than that. It'd been the ultimate insult to bring her here, to mess with time and discredit everything her death had meant.

Good and safe. She clings to the mantra like a lifeline, lets it reverberate in her brain for so long that it practically becomes a part of her. We don't have to worry about her anymore. Good and safe.

But whenever she manages to drift off, the nightmares are worse than they've been in months.

The scene begins tranquilly enough. There's a meadow full of daisies under a cloudless sky. A comforting warmth on her skin from the sun. Mockingjays, which provide a soft melody in the background as they occasionally fly across her view. Maybe the most defining feature, though, is an overwhelming feeling of safety.

The kind of place that only exists in songs.

A little girl laughs, carefree, somewhere out of her field of vision. She turns toward the sound, but that's when everything goes to hell. Spontaneously, without warning, the entire meadow bursts into flames around her. Comforting warmth gives way to burning flesh. Smoke begins to fill the air, to choke her, to obscure almost everything around her.

There are a few things she becomes aware of. The mockingjays no longer sing; instead they become jabberjays, and inundate her with cries of her own name in a voice that's all too familiar. Just barely visible, nearby, the profile of a little girl transforms into a wolf mutt.

She doesn't even have time to react before it bounds for her. Before it pins her down to the ground, bares its teeth at her. Glares at her with Rue's eyes. --

Her throat is too obstructed for the screams to come. Sweating and rapid breathing accompany her abrupt return to consciousness as they always do, but the silence is filled with panic. Wild panic. The only clear thought she can form is that she has to get out of this room. If she doesn't, she'll suffocate. She'll be trapped. She'll...--

Her feet hit the floor and carry her away so quickly it might as well be reflex. She hardly has the capacity for thought to where she's going, so they'll move on their own. Until they stop in front of Peeta's door.

Equally as unthinkingly, she raises her hand to rap her knuckles against it.]

[Peeta glances at the door. He sets his notebook down and walks over to the door.

The nightmares are getting even worse. He closes his eyes and he's back in the arena. He can't see Katniss. He can just hear her screams, Peeta! Peeta! I'm here! Peeta!

Tick, tock, tick, tock

He pauses at the door, shaking his head to rid the fear from his eyes before opening the door.

He can't say he's surprised to see Katniss distraught at night. The nightmares had to be hitting her just as hard. And he knew Rue leaving affected her. He could see a little part of her droop and wither.

Peeta immediately moves to hug her.] Hey, I thought I heard you. Nightmares, huh?

[During a moment of lucidity, it occurs to her that this, her first reaction, is selfish. As selfish as it's ever been; the old, familiar stab of guilt is a logical follower. It's unforgivable that he's even here in the first place. He's clearly leverage, incentive, and it's her fault that the Initiative would even think to take him. Just like it's her fault that he was picked up by the Capitol, left to whatever horrible inevitabilities that will happen to him.

Her fault. All her fault. And now she's seeking him out in the middle of the night, possibly even waking him up, simply because she is having nightmares.

There's an instant when she thinks about leaving, maybe even has a foot half ready to move, but then he opens the door, and it's too late.

She's tired. So tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally, all of it. No matter the guilt that may still persist, she doesn't have the energy to fight his arms encircling her, and instead goes into them easily. The only response she can manage is a nod against his shirt.]

Edited 2013-05-14 03:24 (UTC)

[He gives a sympathetic hum.] Every time I close my eyes, you disappear.

[It's so natural and easy to pull her toward the bed. It's what they've always done. Combat the nightmares together. They've faced every horror imaginable together and yet, the one terror that Peeta can't imagine, that he can't face with her, is the one where she's just out of reach, where she's in trouble. Nightmares where she's dead and it's his fault.

He guides her gently to the bed, an arm still around her, protecting her from the ghostly images in her head. Protecting her from the mutts and the jabberjays and corpses that no doubt filled her mind.

The lamp by his bed is still on, and his sketchbook and pencils lay beside it. The feral face of one of the orange monkeys practically leaps off the page, detailed and nightmarish. He quickly closes the sketchbook, glancing at Katniss to make sure she's all right.]

["Every time I close my eyes, you disappear."

...

"My nightmares are usually about losing you. I'm okay once I realize you're here."

Before the chaos, before the Quell, there were those words. They come back to her in a flash. Predictably, like clockwork (tick, tock, tick, tock), the stab of guilt from before grows into something much stronger, hits her with a force that trumps the lash she took to her face and effectively overrides the horrific afterimages of her nightmare, at least for the moment. She sucks in a breath and winces, but that's all she has the energy to do.

The words, though, continue to linger. Continue to preoccupy her.

She barely registers anything outside of them, only being guided, the quick motion that Peeta makes to close his sketchbook(though anything that might've been on the page slips past her notice), until she finally has to say something. Whatever was in her throat won't swallow down, so it's hard to get anything out. Her voice hardly makes it to the volume of audibility.]

You should've come and found me.

I was trying to ooze the nightmares out of my brain and onto paper. [He taps the closed notebook.] Didn't really help.

[He slowly wraps an arm around her and cuddles up to her. It feels good, safe.]

This place... makes you feel at home, doesn't it?

[He wonders if she'll catch on to what he's saying. He's still not sure if they need to be so careful, but it's always a good idea after what they've been through. It feels just like Panem, wondering if there are eyes on you, being thrown into battle with no choice.]

[It does feel safe like this, being held so close. Truly good and safe. It's a pull, almost magnetic, warm and inviting, that draws her in. Maybe it's just another force to contend with, just another confusion to add to the mess of emotions continuing to wage a war inside of her, but at the very least, the lump in her throat dissipates enough to allow her to exhale.

Relief washes through her in response to the change in subject. Her eyes close, partially as a result of that, and partially as a result of wanting to ensure she sees nothing. If his paintings had been anything to go by, she's better off not knowing what was inside that sketchbook. Especially not now, not when so much is still so fresh. Not when volatility could still tip a delicate balance of superficial ease in any direction; not when she's still an effective time bomb.

Tick, tock.

"Home" is a word that's still charged, one that has the potential to set her off without much warning, when the concept of it is gone and that inexistence is a ghost that haunts her ceaselessly. But it's a charge that dies before it sparks, lost in the oblivion of her own personal battle. She knows what he means; it's an expression of a thought that's crossed her mind more than several times in all these months. How, at its core, a lot of it isn't much different. Different game, different players, but, in fact, still a game...--

Still quietly, though with more volume than before:]

Sometimes.

Peeta, it's Saul. If Effie seems upset or mad or like she wants to kill someone, it's my fault and that "someone" is me. We broke up.

So I heard. Saul...

[He likes Saul, he really does. He's so confused and overprotective of Effie, and yet, he doesn't quite want to break that thread between them. He leaves the ellipses, not quite sure what to say, if he should be angry or sad.]

I screwed up real bad.

Can I check in with you every so often to make sure she's doing okay? I'd ask her, but I don't think she wants to talk to me. Ever again, maybe. For which I do not blame her, but it still sucks.

No! It's not fair what you did to her! I thought you were good.

[He sends the next message immediately, embarrassed by his first message.] I'm sorry. I don't want to break all connection. It's just that I trusted you, and you hurt Effie. She's the closest thing I have to family here. You can check in with me, I guess. I don't want to be mad at you. I like you. But I am mad.

[Well damn. Saul stares at his tablet for a moment, frowning. Then:]

I know it wasn't fair, I know I'm an asshole, and I'm mad at me, too.

I'm sorry. She didn't deserve what I did to her.

[He feels a little bad now. Saul's probably been yelled at by all parties involved.] I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. You've probably suffered enough for your mistake. No need for me to add to it. I just have kind of a temper.

Are you okay?

I'm okay, yeah. I just hope she isn't mad at me forever.

Just take care and I'll keep you updated, okay?

Will do. Thanks.

And you take care of her.

I will.

[Anger has a way of taking over everything.

In the instant that her face appears on the network, the last few weeks, the last few months, years, become irrelevant. All that registers in her immediate reality is the distinct sensation of blood pounding in her ears. A clenched fist. Shortened breath.

Anger has a way of giving rise to impulse, which replaces conscious thought as a driving force of action all on its own. Specifically, it moves her feet down the hall until they reach room 121. Raises her hand to the door to pound on it.

There's no hesitation. Not even one single pause.]

Edited (what the hell i can't words) 2013-12-03 03:44 (UTC)

[Peeta's completely unprepared to see her. He opens the door, his fingers smudged in a rainbow of colors.

He gapes at her, not sure what to say, what to do. She looks angry, and he has a feeling it's his fault. He waits for the shove, not daring to speak.]

[For a moment, there's silence. Stillness. She regards him with a cold stare.

And then -

She shoves him THE FUCK INTO THE WALL.

But she doesn't just leave it at that; she also pins him there, using all the force that one arm can manage. When she speaks, her voice is closer to a hiss.]

What are you doing?

[He lets out a startled grunt as he's shoved to the wall. He's trapped. She's ready for the kill. He waits for the hit. You stupid creature.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

When it doesn't come, he looks up at her, his face in a grimace. How does he answer her? He doesn't know. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out.]

[The look on his face is enough to reach something in her. Through the layers of anger that had fortified themselves so quickly, and straight to her gut, with almost enough power to knock breath out of her lungs.

It's all too familiar, because it's the thing that never stops eating at her. Even if anger could abate it temporarily, it could never truly leave.

She drops her hold on him, lets her arm falter to her side. Her voice, however, loses none of the venom.]

You have no right.

[He's relieved when she lets go. He's upset. And angry. He's getting angry. Angry at the situation, at her, at himself. His eyes are brimming with tears.] To what? To post a stupid drawing? To talk about you?

[She never asked for her image to be used without her knowledge, much less consent. Never asked to be made into a symbol, to have so much blood on her hands as a result. Never asked to figurehead a revolution, to carry so much on shoulders that aren't strong enough to bear the weight. (Not when they weren't even strong enough to carry Mags.)

Never asked to be standing here, having this conversation.

She meets his gaze, defiant, and opens her mouth for the retort. But that's when -

That's when it occurs to her that she doesn't have any right, either. Not with what she's done. (What she couldn't do.)

The anger that carried her here starts to burn on embers. It's her turn to have no words to answer with.]

[His anger falters, and his eyes soften.] Katniss, I have always been on your side. I didn't mean to upset you. It was a stupid, inconsiderate thing to do, and I'm sorry.

[He tugs at his hair, frustrated.] We agreed to be friends. But you're avoiding me for some reason. And I can't stand it, Katniss, I can't. What happened to allies? What are we doing?

[I'm sorry

Two words, just two words, but they have so much power. From the instant they're said, they reverberate in her brain, and start a chain reaction that she's unable to control. Guilt, guilt that's been with her for so long it almost feels like a part of her, now resurfaces with a vengeance; it spreads to every tip, forms a knot in her chest and a lump in her throat. Turns her feet into lead.

She wants to leave, to default to her natural response. The longer he goes on, the harder this becomes to endure. But no matter how hard, she knows she can't walk away, can't avoid. Not this time.

A long moment of silence, an eternity of silence, passes. It may seem like she has nothing to say at all, until- ]

Don't apologize. [The words are blunt, and could be taken as harsh, if her voice wasn't so choked.]

[He sees that he had an effect on her but he doesn't understand. He doesn't understand at all and he doesn't know what to do. A tear falls down his cheek.]

I don't understand.

[He searches her eyes desperately for the answer, another tear falling.]

[Her gaze drops to the floor; the one avoidant response she can't help, because it's as reflexive as breathing. But it doesn't stop the lump in her throat from steadily growing so large she could choke on it. Doesn't stop anything at all.

She takes a breath that's meant to be steadying, but there's a hitch in it.]

It should be me. [Then, so quiet it's barely above a whisper:] I'm sorry.

What... [It takes him a bit to catch up. But he does, surprise and then grief taking over.] Katniss, no... no, don't say that. Don't apologize. Please don't.

[He didn't want to die. He didn't want to be trapped in the Capitol. He was scared and he wanted a way out. But he didn't want to show that to Katniss.]

It's okay.

[He takes her gently by the shoulders. He didn't realize how much he hurt her, the guilt he'd put on her. She doesn't deserve that. He doesn't want to hurt her anymore.]

It's not your fault. Just let it go. Let me go.

[She looks up with wide eyes, both in response to the touch and to what she's hearing. Because it's what she'd heard before, so long ago now. But in an instant, all that time fades away. She's on the beach in the arena, listening with dread as he makes his intentions clear.

"If you die, and I live, there's no life for me at all back in District 12. You're my whole life. ... No one really needs me."

Tears that have been months overdue begin to spill over before she can blink them back.]

No. [She shakes her head vehemently.] No. It was my fault. All my fault. I should've - [A beat] I shouldn't have gone. I... I shouldn't have left you. I -

[She can't finish the thought. A sob cuts in.]

[He immediately gathers her up in a hug. He can't stand to see her like this. He's crying by now, too, the tears falling onto her shoulder.]

Shh. It wasn't your fault. It was Haymitch's decision and he made it. I forgave him a long time ago.

[It still stung a lot, but he understood. He chose Katniss. It's what Peeta wanted.]

I've been so stupid in Exsilium. I wasn't thinking of you. I'm so sorry, Katniss. Please let me be your friend. Please don't push me away. I need you.

[Once it starts, it can't stop. By now, the sobs are uncontrollable. A dam has burst, allowing months and months' worth of emotions she'd held back to flood out all at once. The anguish, the guilt, the hopelessness, and everything in between. And it's then that she's finally allowed to break.

She willingly allows herself to be gathered into that hug, and wraps her arms around his neck. Clings to him like a lifeline. A capacity for words is beyond lost to her, but when she can catch a breath, she nods against his shirt in response.

Because she needs him, too. What she'd said to him on the beach is still just as true as it ever was.]

[He just holds her for a long time, closing his eyes. He's so relieved. He didn't want to lose her.

He pulls away reluctantly once she's calmed down a little.]

Hey. You have me here, okay? I promise, as long as you need me, I'll be there.

[The truth is, she doesn't deserve this. Not really. What she's done has no chance of being absolved until he's out of the Capitol and safe. Until she's killed Snow. Even then, it may never be.

But she can't deny that by the time she's cried out and he pulls away, she feels so much lighter, lighter than she has in almost as long as she can remember. She even manages to give him the smallest of smiles when she's pulled herself together.

There is, though, one more apology she has to make. (Wouldn't Effie be proud right now)]

I'm sorry I pushed you.

[He smiles back.] Hey, don't worry. I've had worse.

Oi, Peeta, it's Lea, got a second? Wanted to ask a small favor.

Yeah, sure! What's up?

There's this kid I know, she's been here about as long as I have been, cumulatively. She's turning sixteen tomorrow and she's pretty bummed that she's stuck on the moonbase for it, you know? I just wondered if it might be doable for you to whip up a cake for this weekend. You know, just so there's something.

[Shh don't tell anyone I'm a nice guy okok]

[Small smile] Sure, no problem. Do you know what flavor she likes?

She said chocolate's her favorite. Thanks for this; now I owe you two, I guess.

[It's a stupid decision, calling Peeta like this. Saul knows how exhausted and sad he sounds; he can see it in Steph's eyes every time she looks at him.

So he tries to cover it up, instead just sounding like someone who's concerned.]

Hey, kid. How you holdin' up?

Pretty good. I made up with Katniss.

How are you?

Yeah? That's great. Happy to hear it.

[And there it is — some good news to actually cheer him up.

Good job, kiddo.]

I'm okay. Jesse, ah... he went home. So...

[Yeah.]

Oh. ...Saul. He was... your friend. And really nice to me. I'm really sorry he's gone.

[He doesn't know what happened to him. But he's hoping he goes home to rainbows and sunshine. Ha....]

Yeah, me too. He's a good kid.

[Saul is so, so careful to keep his verbs in the present tense.]

Edited 2013-12-19 03:02 (UTC)

[Sometime today there will be a bag left for you, Peeta. In this bag is a fuzzy grey scarf and a flat box wrapped in turquoise paper. In the box is a set of sketching pencils and a note.

['paying it forward, in case i need to borrow your art skills again in the future.
-Lea (and Dusk)']

[There'll be a bright blue box left outside your place, Peeta! Inside, you'll find an intricate ice sculpture of a cake with a note that reads:]

Merry Christmas, Peeta.

-- Abbey

[Sure, the sculpture won't last forever, but it'll definitely be around for several days! Abbey's got skills like that -- after all, this is the same yeti who knows how to make snowmen that never, ever melt! B)]

Edited 2013-12-25 04:56 (UTC)

IC Contact

action; dated to like the wee-ish hours of the morning on the 13th?

sounds good sobs ;;

sobs 5ever ;;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

backdated like whoa, text;

no subject

no subject

1/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

action; dated to shortly after That Post

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

backdated, early afternoon on the 3rd

sorry for the late :c

no worries!

<3

no subject

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

[Christmas Day]

christmas day!