Slate was back in Twelve for a few weeks in June, and he was glad to find that Moxie was there too. He’d texted her and asked her to meet up with him, sent her an address, and now they stood just inside the Hob, Slate grinning from ear to ear at the familiar sights, smells, and sounds of the trading post. “Well, what do you think?” He spread his hands like he was presenting a great buffet to her -- which really, he was, at least in his mind. You could get so much cool shit here if you had something to trade or spend.
He was already in the Capitol so figured he’d linger for a few days to attend Selene and Sirena’s engagement party. He wasn’t quite sure why except that he got lonely at home -- as much as he craved the comfort of familiarity, he also sometimes needed someone to pull him out of his head. And while he had behaved himself (mostly) at the Victor’s Ball, he was already high when he walked through the doors of The Emerald Oasis, grabbing the first drink that was offered to him, feeling vaguely as though there were a cloud beneath his feet that kept him separated from the floor. He smiled at the first person her saw. “Cheers to Sirena and Selena -- Selene! Sirene and Selene.” He laughed.
“What animal is it?!”
Alder blinked as a tile with shades of brown paint mashed into a blob at the center was shoved inches under his nose by the kid beside him. He had to lean back, gently touching the boy’s arm to get him to lower it a few inches so he could properly look at it. Unfortunately, distance wasn’t revealing much more to him.
“Uh...” He looked across the table to Maverick for help. “A... squirrel?” The kid moaned, as if wounded, and held it up to Maverick instead.
“You’re smarter,” the boy informed Maverick. “What animal is it?”
@maverickmontana
Ashton was glad he let Abel drag him away from Four. Traveling was never something he enjoyed after winning his games. The first time he traveled outside his district was for the games, and he'd traveled for the games ever since winning. It soured the experience. So much had been tainted by the games. It was hard to find something in his life that wasn't.
It was probably why he was enjoying his visit. Even tucked away in a Capitol apartment, they felt untouched. The sun trickling in from the window spoke of comfort. Ashton, reaching out to touch the beam that made its home on the ruffled bedsheet. He enjoyed being able to linger in someone else's bed. He didn't wake up wondering whose bed he'd ended up in; he wasn't rushing to gather his things. Instead, Ash could snuggle back into the covers and rest his forehead against his lover's side.
This morning was different, Ashton, waking up to an empty space rather than Abel's warm body. Which wouldn't have been odd, after a few minutes, if Ash wasn't routinely the first one out of bed. Lazily, he pulled himself to his feet, ruffling his own hair as he stretched. "You're up awfully early," his voice, rumbly and soft as he leaned against a doorway. Still working on coming to life. "Or am I just late-." He moved into the living room, fully expecting to find Abel sprawled out on the couch. Except he wasn’t. Maybe in the kitchen?
"Baby? Bad night?" As it turned out, even in the light of the early morning sun, they were just as tainted as the rest of the world.
April
This time, it is not an early rise, fueled by anxious energy and a wine-hangover to catch the first train back to Twelve and whisk herself blissfully away from the Capitol for another three months and back to life, her real life. This time, she had to disentangle herself woefully from the gentlest arms she’d ever known, press goodbyes and promises against his cheeks.
She nearly misses her ride home-- she has to go back to her own room in the Tower across the street, drowning in a shit and sweats that are not hers, her ball gown balled up in her arms. Her cheeks burn the whole way, and she prays she sees nobody she knows. She still receives a couple of cheeky, knowing looks from a few strangers on the street.
She spends the entire ride home wishing she could crawl back into the warm bed above the tattoo parlor.
May
Motherhood never stops-- there are skinned knees and low-budget school plays and dinners large enough to feed a small army. This time of year is always full of chaos, and the days pass quickly. She forgets some meals, naps extra, hardly pays any attention to herself to try to get her children through the busy final weeks of their respective school years before there is a short break. The few times she gets moments, she does try to talk to Luca, but it’s never long enough. They’re both so busy, have such intense lives when apart. It occurs to her around the end of May that her period is a couple weeks late, but it’s not so unusual for her-- how many Games have stressed her to the point of skipping? The thought passes as quickly as it comes.
June
Of course, when rest is on the horizon, the house comes down with the stomach flu early in the month-- Hestia falls prey too. However, where chicken broth and herbal teas and plenty of rest coax the rest of the household back to their normal selves within a couple of days, she can’t seem to shake it. The days lengthen, she struggles to keep up. She naps every day, sometimes twice. She hardly eats, and when she does, it takes valiant effort to keep it down. She loses more often than not.
She wishes Luca was there to help, but she says nothing. He has his life, his business to run. She couldn’t possibly ask anything of him when he’s already done so much for her, unprompted. She asks Reyna to step in instead.
Two weeks pass, and she does the math over and over in her mind, more and more each day. Eight weeks since her last period. Six weeks since the ball. Two weeks of nausea.
What else could the math add up to?
There’s guilt. Excitement. Fear. Love. Guilt, again. This world is cruel, she has made it a point to dedicate her life to easing suffering of those already here, not introducing it needlessly.
What has she done?
He’d come to Twelve for a week-long visit in June, because it was his favorite time in the district, and because he was fucking tired of the Capitol, and he had time between quitting the publisher and starting with Lysander. He wasn’t dumb, though, he knew that Hestia was sick, and he just didn’t know why. Worry brought him to her side in the living room one evening with a mug of tea in his hands, because shit, if she was sick, like actually sick, then that was a problem. That was actually a disaster.
He sat down, handing over the tea. Good time to talk?
He was proud of the project and how it was going so far. They’d had the community mural day with Clementine and the kids had loved it; a few of them came to the store just to see him and hang around, and he was having trouble instituting a no loitering policy because he sort of liked the company. Many of the adults in the community still had trouble accepting him as part of it, considering where he was from originally, but he seemed to have won over the kids by letting them be involved in something.
Now he sat on the counter, looking at plans with Sigma. The expansion of the store was about halfway done, and the original part was still stocked and running, but the rest was behind a big plastic sheet. “It’s looking really good so far, seriously, man,” Maverick said, “I really appreciate it. It’s gonna make a difference.” Being able to hold more stock at any given time would pay off quickly for both him and Alder and the patrons.
