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@ofmentorship . Haymitch gets a starter

When Lucy Gray had appeared at the reaping for the first time, three years after her victory, she had half expected Coriolanus to send peacekeepers to her door. For weeks after the 13th Hunger Games, she thought he would kill her, somehow. But then, he didn't.

She kept his secrets.

37 years later, she was still alive, and he was still President. It was a strange status quo. She had children now, and every year she feared their names might get picked at the reaping. And every year, her relief was only short-lived. Yes, her children were safe, but she still had two tributes to protect. Somebody else's kids, who might never come back home. And for 37 years, she kept being the only mentor. How could the tributes of District 12 stand a chance, with their famished bodies and inexperienced hands.

This year, however, was worse than ever. Four children. Four.

"Hello there," she said gently, sitting down in front of the only tribute who hadn't run to their cabin as soon as they boarded the train that was quickly ripping them away from their homes. "You're Haymitch Abernathy, aren't you?"

#i hope this works!!#lmk if anything needs changed #&(haymitch abernathy)#lucy gray (the show's not over until the mockingjay sings)#district verse #closed starter #ofmentorship

@multipleoccupancy . 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑

It was a nice spring day, and Lucy Gray was sitting at the kitchen table, breaking nuts with the help of her youngest daughter. Emmylou Sage was as still as the young girl could manage, which meant that she kept jumping on her chair and singing, under the watchful eyes of her big sister. Near the entrance, Lucy Gray’s odlest son was putting on his boots and coat, to go forage in the meadow. It was a nice spring day, and Lucy Gray was happy.

The scar on her flank hadn’t hurt her in many years, though it had never fully faded, leaving behind a pink mark on her skin. On the large wooden cabinet, there was a picture of her and her husband, a good man from the town, who worked the mines and provided without complaining. It wasn’t the life she had expected to have, but it was hers, and it was a good life. June Amber was scolding her little sister for having spilled some of the nuts on the floor, when Abraham tensed silently by the window. Lucy Gray had gotten used to catching every nuance in her son’s behavior, for he spoke very little. Yet, this time, he spoke.

“Mom,” he said with that solemn tone of his, the one that made him sound much older than he was, “why are there peacekeepers outside?”

The question made her stand from the table. Peacekeepers knocking on your door was usually bad news. But before she could say anything, Abraham spoke again, though it was nothing but a strange whisper this time. “The President is outside too.”

There was a long and heavy silence in the room, as all the siblings looked at each other in surprise. Lucy Gray didn’t move for a minute, as if frozen. Then there was a knock on the door, and she came to life again.

“Go sit at the table,” she gently told her son as she walked to the door. He obeyed. Truth be told, the three kids were a little spooked.

She didn’t even know how to feel, what to think. Her heart was beating slowly, surprisingly slowly. He had left her for dead, that day in the woods. Would she be like a ghost to him? Did he know she was alive? There was a smile on her lips when she opened the door, it was a bittersweet smile.