I keep vanishing off the face of the earth, but with my moms anniversery coming up I’m really struggling to focus on Anything at all. I’m gonna try to wrap up with the rest of my profiles here this week as I’m leaving for a long weekend next Thursday.
But then I’m gonna do a shit tone of Opens and get my but active again I promise!
Without Fire [Closed RP w/ oldesthawthrone & double-knotted-shoelace]
@oldesthawthorne
Two weeks. That was all Peeta had allowed himself. No more, no less. He arrived home, smiled and waved sadly for the cameras until they left for the Capitol again, and then he had locked himself up in the new house, secluded and alone. And he mourned.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He wasn’t supposed to be alive right now. He was the weaker one between them both, and she hadn’t really eaten those berries. She had spit them out, hadn’t she? She was the stronger one anyway. He was going to die, he just wasn’t made to survive, and yet, here he was, the one who wasn’t supposed to live. Maybe not all of him, he still was getting used to the strange contraption they claimed was a prosthetic the Capitol had sent him home with for his leg, but he was there, still going on, still existing.
And Peeta hated that fact. Katniss had more than deserved to live. She was important, people relied on her, her family most of all. But somehow, despite living through the whole of the Games, fighting, and gaining favor from so many, she still ended up dying. They had named her as an honorary Victor, but it did not matter in the end. There was only one Victor. And as much as he wish it wasn’t true, it was Peeta.
For those two weeks, Peeta hated them. He hated everything to do with the Capitol. He hated the people, he hated the Games, he even hated those who had helped him. Haymitch’s attempts to get in and talk were few, but all rejected. Calls from the Capitol and Effie were all met without answer. Even his brothers coming and his mother’s angry banging on the door were ignored.
However, at the end of those two weeks, enough was enough. He had moped enough, and now it was time to do something. If he was a Victor and had all this undeserved power, the least he could do was something useful.. It started small. All the things he didn’t need in the house, extra linens, books, lamps, even some of the ornamental things that could be sold for simply value, all of it went out and n the dead of night, were left on clothes lines, window sills, and back steps of the houses of the Seam. If he couldn’t give them Katniss, he could do his best to make up for her loss.
But when that wasn’t enough, and when finally Peeta’s courage was built up enough, about a month after his return, Peeta set out for the first time to the Hob. Things were traded for much less than their actual value. He practically gave a Capitol-quality holo-screen away just for a few small bags of flour, sugar, and salt. What little he could do, abusing the system by calling Effie every other week with something else that had ‘broken’ or ‘not liking the color,’ Peeta did. He would supply people with anything he could.
However, in all the time he was in the Hob, there was one last person he had to confront. One thing constantly lingered, following Peeta in the back of his mind. Finger was fast approaching on the District, though thankfully, the winnings from the Games kept people fed. However, the time had finally come. Facing the Hob was one thing, going there with his hood up and head down to blend in.
Facing the Hawthornes was something else entirely.
The first snow was falling, dusting and for a second, covering the coal that lingered in the streets. With a pair of fresh loaves of bread and a parcel of cookies, Peeta walked in his usual way along the streets, head down, hat on his head, hood masking his features. All the houses were run down in this part of the District, all in serious need of some love and care. A little coercion had gotten Peeta the address for the Hawthorne’s house. It was nerve-wracking to say the least. Already, Peeta knew he was potentially walking into a full on fight. If any of his suspicions were right, Gale would certainly have a thing or two to say to Peeta, none of which would be friendly. He just hoped that he could do something, say something to convince the man that this small plan was worth it.
Still, Peeta had picked his timing very carefully. The miners would just be coming up and off the elevators. It would take a little while for Gale to come back. In the meanwhile, Peeta could at least introduce himself to Hazel and her other children. There could be hope.
Everything had lead to this now. Peeta stood in front of the house that was much too small for five people. The wounds of guilt were reopened as he looked upon it, but seeing this only made his determination that much stronger than before. Breathing in deeply, Peeta used the cold air to steel himself and head up to the door, knocking and waiting. While the Everdeens had been hard, the Hawthornes, Peeta felt would be a whole other level of difficulty.
