#doviey

[fablesuntold]

@doviey sent: [ 5. ] sender combs their fingers through receiver's hair in the aftermath of a traumatic event, whispering words of comfort. — From Lenore Dove for Haymitch!

Where would he be without 𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄? Since returning home from the arena, his sleep had been tainted with endless nightmares that haunted him way after the sun set. Haymitch often woke up screaming, the image of Silka and her axe burnt into his brain. Tonight was one of those nights. Thankfully, the careful brush of fingertips combing through his hair and gently scraping along his scalp was enough to tether him back to reality before he could lose himself too deeply to the dream. He wasn’t in the arena no more. Lenore Dove’s soft, comforting whispers were enough to reassure him so.

“’m sorry, love. Did I wake you again?” He couldn’t go on like this. It wasn’t fair to 𝐇𝐄𝐑. They’d been inseparable since he’d come back, even her uncles had taken pity on him and allowed him to stay the night given what’d happened to his family. But Haymitch didn’t want to become a burden, especially not to her. She needed sleep too. “If I’m too much, you can tell me. I can go home. I’ll be okay.” That was a 𝐋𝐈𝐄. Haymitch didn’t want to return to Victors’ Village. That wasn’t his home. It didn’t feel like home. Not without Ma and Sid there waiting. “Just.. just tell me and I’ll go.”

[towngirlreaped]

@doviey - continued from here.

I meet Lenore Dove's gaze with fire reflecting in my own, scoffing a little. Has she learned nothing from the Games? Nothing from the loss of her precious Haymitch? If she's going to act out, she's gotta do it the way we did with our little paint party all those years ago -- in private, with few witnesses, holding the truth close to your chest.

“ I believe in my actions, too, ” I say, and try not to think of the ruins of the sweetshop. We aren't friends (not anymore), so I have no obligation to tell her what that had felt like. Pressure builds in my chest, and I have to swallow my acrid words. The canary in the coal mine will scream when it's time, but... Plutarch says we have to be patient. “ Or, at least, I did. And for what? I lost anyone that ever meant anything to me. At least you still have your Covey, Lenore Dove. I have no one in the world who likes me right now. ”

[fablesuntold]

@doviey sent: [ 1. ] sender steps between receiver and an aggressive stranger, voice low and steady: "walk. away." — From Lenore Dove for Burdock!

A pained grunt sounded from him as his back connected with the pebbled ground. This 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍’𝐓 how he’d expected his shift at the coal mines to end. Staring up at the other male who continued to shout his mouth off with accusations about Burdock being a 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅, he fixed him with an icy stare. He hadn’t touched his stupid shovel. And if he continued to wave that finger in his face, Burdock swore he’d let him have it. The only thing stopping him from snapping was the fact that Asterid was five months 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓. The last thing he needed was to get himself arrested and leave her with a baby.

Thankfully, he needn’t do anything when his saving grace in the form of 𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄 stepped between him and the aggressor now that they were back above the mines, voice low and steady as she warned them to ‘Walk. Away.’ Never had Burdock been more 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋 to see her, watching as the man retreated mumbling the last of his protests. “Thanks.” He finally pulled himself off the ground, dusting off his overalls as he did so. “Didn’t know you held that much authority ‘round here. He even looked kinda scared.” A ghost of a subtle smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, elbow gentle nudging hers.

[twelvereplaced]

My own voice screaming no at the top of my lungs with every fiber of my being is the last things I hear before my vision goes black.

When i come to, I don't recognize anything but my girl, Lenore Dove, she's right here by my side, asleep. At least...I hope...

"my love..." I whisper, looking around at the unfamiliar settings. A train. Way nicer than anything we had on the seam. I look back to my girl and gently shake her. "Lenore Dove you better answer me," I say, playfully but there's real fear when I remember we're headed to the 50th annual Hunger games.

Together.

@doviey and me are gonna make posters