#deathprcud

[mcmorare]

@deathprcud (blight) sent: "i'm pretty hard to kill, it turns out."

He's here. He's alive. Blight is alive.

But she saw him die. She was standing there in the capitol watching the screens and she heard the cannon and she thought she saw him die. She saw his body lifted out of the arena. Her face went numb and she found her way to the nearest bathroom and stared at the wall for five minutes. And she fucking cried. In the middle of all the chaos going on she's mourned because she saw him fucking die. Or, they at least made her think that she did.

But here he is.

It's the kind of moment so shocking, with so many questions and confusions and things to think about, that everything just kind of goes blank and there's nothing to say at all. There are tears in her eyes. "Fuck." In a quick few steps, she's cleared the distance, arms clutching around him. Her hands are shaking. He's solid and warm and here, alive. Words aren't her forte. They wouldn't do this moment justice anyways. Instead, she just hugs him tight.

[knowstruth]

@deathprcud (sella) sent: it's fine. i'm fine. i just need to breathe.

It's lucky, when they can find a quiet room in some corner of a capitol party. One of the few rooms that hadn't been set up, where there aren't groups of people chattering and always watching. They might not be supposed to be in here, actually. But that's a problem that can wait until after she's calmed down.

"No, yeah, of course. Take a moment." Rian takes a step back, giving her space, trying not to crowd but to still be there, be here, make sure she knows that he can help if she wants him to. So far, it hasn't really seemed like she wants him to, but the offer is there. It's always there. "We've got a few minutes before anyone comes looking for us," he points out, keeping an eye on the door. In the event that someone does come in, he'll be ready to take the focus on himself.

Head tilts slightly, concerned, and for a moment he almost reaches forward for a gentle touch to her arm, but decides against it. Better to let her initiate, if she wants. "Is there anything I can do? I could... go sneak you a glass of water or something."

[qverdia]

@deathprcud ( blight ) said "are you busy? i could use your help."

abilene hummed , looking up towards the voice . instinctively a smile was painted across her face . she a l w a y s smiled in the capitol , playing her part dutifully . she was glad for the distraction , truthfully , as she found all of this celebration surrounding the games nauseating .

❛ busy ? never . ❜ her smile fell slightly , and the district ten mentor leaned forward with a far more serious look across her face . ❛ you must be pretty desperate to come to me . ❜ abilene held her serious look for a moment longer before she chuckled . she reached over to pat the other side of the bench she sat on .

❛ what do you need , hon ? ❜

[wcven]

@deathprcud liked for a starter

“they don't know what to do with me either," she says, eyes on the schedule printed onto the other's arm. allowed in to the meetings to offer opinions or any knowledge she might have but not trusted to train with their military. unable to enter the kitchens without crying and not let in the hospital for her history of poisoning, she was one wrong comment away from seeing the head doctor johanna complained about.

[mcmorare]

@deathprcud (blight) sent: what kept you up?

Having a house of her own is still strange. Having a house that's so big is still strange. Having her own space, away from her parents, she would have thought it would put her more at ease. That it would be a new sense of freedom, one tiny little plus in the midst of all of this. The halls sound too quiet. There's so much empty space. It's claustrophobia and whatever its opposite is all at once. Six weeks, and she's still adjusting. And the nightmares haven't let up. Will they ever? Is this another thing she's just going to have to get used to, now? Another awful condition of this life she's been involuntarily swept into, trapped with no escape?

The last few nights, she'd tried to stay at her own house, in her own room, instead of curling on her mentor's couch like a scared child. And she had done it. Not easily, but she had done it. It feels like such a stupid, juvenile accomplishment. Wow, you slept all by yourself like a big kid! Good job! There's almost a sense of humiliation lacing it.

Now, she's seated on his couch, cup of coffee in her hands. She's staring down into it with this tired look in her eyes. "You know," she mumbles. It's not hard to guess. Wilhelm's eyes staring up at that fake sky, blood leaking from the side of his head. The boy from Nine wrestling her to the ground. Hands on her throat. That disgusting choking noise after the knife meets his chest. "The same stuff."

[mcmorare]

@deathprcud (sella) sent: ❛ oh hey, it's your birthday. happy birthday. ❜

A clearly forced smile appears on the younger victor's face. She had hoped, had hoped so fucking bad that they would let her spend her birthday at home this year, let her do what she wants, let her have one fucking day free of all this bullshit. That would be the best possible present anyone could give her. But of course not. The Capitol needs their show, and the job that has been forced upon her is to give that to them.

"Thanks." This whole thing is far too much for her tastes. The Capitol as a whole is. Birthdays were never really something she looked forward to before - seems like this is going to be another thing to add to the list of yearly dreads. "Enjoying the party?"

[mcmorare]

@deathprcud (wiress) sent: you didn't tell me you play piano.

Head snaps to meet the source of the voice - she had thought no one was around, tapped at a few of the keys. Wasn't sure if she was even allowed to touch it, but wanted to anyways. Seven is where most of the instruments are made, but it's rare to see one so high-end.

"Just a tiny bit." Her grandpa had shown her the simplest bits and pieces once when he got to work on one, the charming, rustic wooden thing sitting in his workshop for a month while he worked on repairs and restorations. Her hands had looked so small next to his on the keyboard. "I don't know any songs or anything. Don't get your hopes up."

[mcmorare]

@deathprcud (mags) sent: how are you doing with all this, honey?

Usually, Katrina wouldn't let anyone call her honey. It would feel too patronizing, too condescending, set off alarm bells in her head. But there's something disarming, something welcoming about the elder victor - a quality she's been discovering not all of their colleagues share. A sort of maternal energy (a bit offputting to her, honestly, her own mother's presence was never this warm). Of course, she's not about to trust anyone completely, but in this overwhelmed state, being allowed a moment with someone more pleasant is like a sigh of relief.

Katrina's eyes dart around the room for a moment as she takes a breath and considers an answer. "I'm... doing." Not doing well, certainly not, but on top of her woefully bad emotional conversation skills, it's difficult to feel that they're actually able to talk about the hardships of victory here, among these people. Watching, prying, listening. She's getting along. She's here. It's the best any of them can say, isn't it?

Gaze returns to Mags. "It's a big adjustment." To say the least. There's no tremble in her voice, but the hand holding her glass shows the slightest tremor. From her injuries in the arena, or from this stress? Does it have to be just one?