#astralier

[thrndy]

“i’m not afraid.” madge ( @astralier )

i am. it's my fault. all of it. each shipment of rotten grain. each public punishment. it's my fault and it's never going to stop - never. i'm afraid to even be sitting here in madge's drawing room because the peacekeepers may have seen me slip in the back door and might decide to target her family next. when i close my eyes all i can see is gale's back torn to ribbons. "that makes one of us." it's more honest than i've let myself be to anyone who isn't haymitch or gale or peeta since ... i don't even know when.

[dwnstone]

@astralier sent “You’re lucky you got away with only a scratch,” (from lethi)

He fought a bear. 

Still trying to process that one: he fought a bear on his own and won, if it was even supposed to be a competition. 

To call Cathal energised would be an understatement. In his legs, there’s an uncontrollable shake, surplus energy from a moment of pure adrenaline being redistributed into the world around him. Something devious twists at his lips, like a grin, and something wild within his eyes – boyish, excitable, still a little terrified.

But honestly? There’s a big part of him (a part that Lethi may need to quell) that feels like he could do it all again – that he wants to go out into the woods, fight another bear and get to claim that he fought two in one night. 

The muscles of warrior’s hands are still so tense: delicately rough fingers that flex in and out of tight coils while he allows Lethi to examine said scratch – a moderate gash from a bear’s claw, one that tears into his cheek and stings as bad as any insect’s venom might, but it’s hardly debilitating. Just a scratch, and nothing more. And hopefully it’ll make a cool scar, some sort of relic of his past adventures in protecting the clan. 

“It’s a cool scratch, right?” he asks, cheeky and cheerful as he ever is.

“I can point to it and tell everyone I got it fighting a bear, how cool is that?”

[gwahrened]

❛ you're looking well, considering. ❜ (from elissa? lmao)

The glare cast toward her sister was one often practiced & nearly perfected, coming as naturally to her as breathing. Which was fortunate, as she found herself unable to do much else - bedbound as she was, half of her body bandaged & burned. She has energy enough to roll her eyes & cast them away to the window; her sole form of entertainment, recently. That she was awake and lucid enough to do so would have surely delighted the small squadron of healers that had been hovering around her these days. What a relief that they were presently absent. "Considering what, Elissa? The absence of my leg?"

Her voice is still a pale rasp, a ghost of her usual rich tone, but it conveys her irritation well enough still. Though it was still weak, not her usual pointed venom. Her ire wasn't truly directed toward her sister, or even her phrasing, but a general miasma that clouded around her. "How very comforting, thank you," It was Elissa's mistake coming to see her at all, in this state - the pain was one thing, but her anger at being wounded so severely was another. As if she hadn't suffered enough, she had to lose just one more thing. Her sister, more than anyone, should have been prepared for her verbal lashings as retaliation to the injustice of it all. "You should take up medicine, you have such a tactful bedside manner."