A seamstress-in-training from District 12. You probably know me from my mother's shop. No? Oh, then you must be from the hob. Interested in a pack?
Hunger Games RP Blog Only.
FC: Emily Browning
Hover over image for links.
In a split moment, I consider my life over the past week. I met Jeb -- oh shit. Jeb's going to be pissed at me. I hope he knows that hurting Theo wasn't my intention. I really wanted to make him proud... ah, well. Then there's Samson, the other part of my little District 12 family. I'm not eloquent enough to put words together for him. He's going to be upset when he sees that I'm dead. I guess that makes all of this a little bit easier. Knowing I'll be missed, I mean. It would be selfish of me to ask for the same from Theo and Jeb. Theo's really the only other person I liked. I was bitter at him for the longest time, and now he's the one removing me from the world of the living. How about that?
In that moment, I find my voice again. It's very weak. In his state, I doubt he can hear it. But I can at least die knowing I said it. "I'm sorry," I rasp just before he slams me against his knee. I hear the crack and feel myself bend in a way I'm not supposed to. The pain stops all at once.
The new place isn't so bad. I get the feeling there's more than what I'm seeing now, but I make no move forward. There's someone I have to wait for. I settle down and draw my knees to my chest. Samson waited years for me. It's my turn to do the same for him.
“How am I feeling?” I echo her question trying to come up with a response. “Well we’re both alive and you look a lot better already, so I can’t be too bad can I?” I look past her off into the rest of the temple where sounds of tributes can be heard reverberating off the wooden floor.
“I don’t feel too strong but I haven’t had any symptoms in the past little while. Do you think that means it’s working?” I asked turning back to her. Hopefully she can’t see the fear in my eyes.
I know Samson. I can tell when he's afraid. "Yes," I say firmly, going to cup his face between both of my hands. "You've been getting treatment from the best doctors in all of Panem. It has to be working." I offer him a hopeful smile, going to squeeze his shoulders. We hear another beeping nearby, but this time no parachute comes for us.
"We'd better move," I whisper. We gather up all of our supplies and check that the coast is clear before hurrying in a diagonal line away from the stone statue and out on the porch behind the golden statue. Looking over the balcony I can see a garden path running along the right side of the temple, back towards the mountains where it disappears into the fog.
Both of us are silent as he listen for others nearby. Hearing nothing, we settle down to hide between the banisters and the statue. "It's so hot," I sigh, mopping a bit of sweat off my brow and pulling matted hair away from the back of my neck.
Gently I take the vial from her hands and scoot around so I’m in front of her. ” Just close your eyes and I’ll pour it in. It’ll help if you don’t look at it so you aren’t thinking about it.” I keep my voice soft as I instruct her, not paying attention to the little joke she made.
With a some reluctance she followed me directions and opened her mouth a little as her eyelids fluttered closed. I brushed a stray hair away from her face before pouring the contents of the vial down her throat.
There is a subtle quiver about me as I tilt me head back once again. I pinch my nose and part my lips, and soon enough I can feel the medicine dripping into my throat. I wait until Sam pulls the vial away from my lips before swallowing. My face is scrunched up, as if I just bit into a lemon.
Before releasing my nose, I grope around for the water bottle and take a sip, swirling it around between my cheeks before swallowing. Already, I'm starting to feel better. "Thanks, Sam," I say with a soft smile, clearing my throat a bit. I double check the sponsor package to find a note, and read it over. Kalmin. I never spoke to him, but I do remember glancing up to see him in the booth now and again. I glance around for a camera, unsure where the closest one could be. "Thank you," I say softly, hoping that he can spare a passing glance to see it.
"How are you feeling?" I ask Sam, packing the vial back into the metallic container.
I tense at the beeping of the sponsor floating down to us. Almost in disbelief I stare at the metallic package as Wendy scoots over to retrieve it. District Twelve was being sponsored? We weren’t exactly the most promising duo but I wasn’t going to question it and rested my head on her should to watch her open it.
She handed me the bottle to which I thankfully took a small mouthful. The cool liquid helped to soothe the dull ache in my throat and I wanted to keep drinking but forced myself to lower the bottle. Safe water was hard to come by and we’d need to save this.
The small vial in her hand was what really interested me. “I think it’s medicine.” I said taking it from her hands to examine it. I rolled the vial in my fingers looking closer at the clear liquid. “Here, let me get it for you.” I uncorked the vial and handed it to her.
"Thanks," I said, taking the vial and inspecting the liquid within. I sniffed at it and cringed, my nose wrinkling. I was never good at taking my medicine, even when it was in capsules. After a deep breath I raise the vial to my lips. Barely a drop has passed my lips when I sputter and spit it back into the vial.
I cleared my throat and pinched my nose with my free hand, tilting my head back. I put the vial at my lips. I couldn't bring myself to part them. With a resigned sigh I slump back again, going to massage my temples. "This brings new meaning to, 'I couldn't swallow medicine if my life depended on it'," I joke half-heartedly.
With each bite of the fruit I could feel my conscious returning to me. Somewhere between running from the bloodbath and here I’d lost myself but now Wendy was back and she needed me. I turned away from the sound of retching not wanting to be sick myself and waited for it to be over.
I’m mad at her, I can’t deny that. She’d gone off on her own and drank water she had no idea whether it was clean or not. Despite that I couldn’t bring myself to yell at her, it wouldn’t help anyone and might attract unwanted attention. “It’s okay it’s not your fault. We just need to be more careful from now on.” I soothed wrapping my arms protectively around her.
I tense up as he holds me, pressing my lips firmly to my knees. I'm sure my breath is hella fowl. I could tell he was less than impressed when I returned, even if I brought food with me, and his attitude didn't change much when I started to get sick.
I'm starting to regret going for weapons instead of a pack. I try to keep my hopes up as I lean against Sam's side.
A soft beeping noise makes me jump. I look over to see a silver parachute drifting towards me, hurriedly snatching it up to shut off the sound. No need to alert everyone where we are. As I hold the little silvery package, my hands start to shake. I'd gotten a sponsor. Sweet wounded Jesus, I got a sponsor!
A weak smile comes to my lips, and I pry open the metallic container to find cold water and a little vial. I pull it out and examine it with a quirked brow.
With one final heave the remainder of the persimmon I ate is splayed out on the floor of the temple. I should have known better than to drink water that wasn't purified. I drink out of the stream at home, so I just figured it would be safe. Stupid of me.
I still feel the nausea but there's nothing left for me to choke out. I crawl back over to Samson's side and slump against the wall, curling up in an effort to ease the pain in my stomach. "I'm sorry," I breathe, my face burning with embarrassment as I hide it from him. Day one of the arena and I'm already puking all over the place.
I nodded. It seemed fair enough. I had enough food for now and could use the extra firepower. I opened the box of crackers and placed the matches inside, tossing it to her side. She did the same with the arrows, landing a few feet in front of me.
I darted back to my tree, light on my feet and keeping low in the grass. I had Chase back in my sights and had sat in the shade once again, picking apart at the tall grass to pass the time.
I carefully inspected the cracker box, remembering he still had that other stick of dynamite. Finding nothing that would cause alarm, I gathered up the box and the few fruits I've picked. He was gone before I could thank him, but I suppose my gratitude came in the form of arrows.
After a quick stop at the river for a drink of water, I made quick work of getting back to the temple. Much to my relief, Sam was still safe behind the statue. I crouched down beside him and pulled one of the persimmons apart, sniffing at it curiously before taking a bite. The two of us split one, and Sam started to come to a bit. For that, I was thankful.
Under the shade of my tree, I scanned the peripherals, knowing that Chase wasn’t the only tribute I needed to watch for in the arena. I hear a branch snap and quickly turn, seeing a figure in the distance picking fruit from a tree. She stared with a quick glance and ducked down into the grass.
Interesting, she’s stocked well on weapons but not so much food. I wonder—, I think to myself.
I decide to roll the dice and rush forward, quickly and quietly under the grass and approach the girl. I looked down and read, short brunette, archery.-Wendy
I make myself known with my hands up, in one hand, a pack of crackers, in the other, three matches.
I squint through the grass, trying to see where Deja went. I duck down and move forward slightly, and when I peek up again he's right before me. I jump and nearly loose an arrow, but stop myself when I see his hands up.
Food, matches... things I need.
He sure as hell isn't getting my bow. I hold it defensively. Wait, he isn't stupid, he knows I wouldn't just give up a weapon for meager supplies. I reach into the sheath on my back and draw out a handful of arrows. "2?" I ask softly, extending them to him.
After the blood bath, Samson is positively shaken. He stares off into space, glancing at me with a look of panic in his eyes. I take his hand and try to quietly lead him away from the birage of tributes nearby, but I can soon tell it's no use. He has to eat or something to get him out of this state. I spot a large golden statue and tell him to hide in it, making sure he's safe and with his drill before heading out of the temple.
I keep an arrow knocked into place as I follow the garden path to the left, glancing all around for fruit trees. I spot some persimmon trees and collect a few, proceeding through the zen garden to a bright pink tree. I freeze in place when I pick up on another tribute within. My arrow head raises and I crouch down low in the grass, wondering if he saw me.
I sit curled up on the couch in the District 12 penthouse, my knees pulled up tight to my chest and my forehead resting against them. My red interview dress was taken by Calliope after she walked me up here and helped me remove my makeup. I had never seen her so quiet as she was then.
But now she’s gone.
Samson is asleep. The doctors say he’s likely to sleep though the night. In the long run it’s good, since he’s sleeping off all of the medicine’s effects before the arena. But in this moment it’s awful. He’s not around to hug me or talk to me or do his… I don’t even know what to call it - that thing he does where he can just smile or laugh or make a single joke and I feel like all my troubles are gone for a tiny little bit.
Jeb is most likely with Theo, and I don’t blame him. I could see the preoccupied worry in his eyes as he waited in the wings with me before my interview. I’m glad they’re getting a bit more time together before the arena. There’s just so much I want to tell him, though… I know that I’ll be a wreck in the morning, all quivering and nerves and unable to string enough words together to form a respectable sentence.
I glance around the suite and spot some letterhead and a pen. What a coincidence. Soon enough I’m on my knees at the coffee table, drumming the pen against the smooth surface as I try to think of what to write.
Dear Jeb,
Good start.
No, wait… is that too simple? I scratch it out and start again.
Dear Mr. Stone,
Too formal.
Hey,
God Dammit.
To whom it may concer——gg-jdifshgnisdnfhr
I crumple up the paper and toss it to the side. I’m over thinking all of this.
With a fresh sheet of paper before me, I clear my mind and start again. I imagine Jeb before me, and simply write out the words I’d say if I could speak to him. In no time at all I have a decent letter. I fold it up with the last of my flavored cigarettes (cherry, my favorite) and scrawl his name on the front. I make quick work of slipping into his room and leaving it on his bedside table, tucked under the lamp. Somewhere he’d see it, but not too far out in the open. I’m still unsure what I’m hoping to accomplish with this letter. Of course it’s meant to be my goodbye, but… I think it might be more than that. I think my greatest fear is dying in the arena and being forgotten. At least, with this letter, there’s a tangible memento of me left in the world of the living.
I make my way back across the hall and peek into Sam’s room. He’s still fast asleep. Slowly I ease myself in and shut the door behind me before taking silent steps toward the bed. Oh, god, this is creepy as fuck. I hope he doesn’t wake up. My initial plan was to slip into bed next to him, so that I’d be right there when he woke up, but the more I think about it, the less I like it.
I grab extra pillows and blankets from his closet and set up a little impromptu bed for myself on the floor beside his bed. This way if he wakes up, he’ll step on me and I’ll wake up too. Still potentially creepy, but dialing it back from a 9 to a solid 6. I curl up in the mass of plush down and settle in, listening to Sam’s breathing as I try to ease myself into sleep.
~~~~~~
Dear Jeb,
I’m not much of a writer, but I just figured I’d leave you a little something to tell you goodbye. You’ve been a great mentor to me. When I first got here, I was sure hopping off my platform in the bloodbath was going to be my strategy. But with your encouragement, I found the will to fight. Even though it’s a long shot to hope I’ll win — hell, even if mine is the first cannon to fire, I’m going to go down fighting.
I’m sorry that I acted like a bitch in the training center the other day. You know what I mean. I’ll be honest, I was sort of, uh… is jealous the right word? Jealous of Theo. Not in an “I love you” kind of way, in a “he’s my mentor let me have him” kind of way. I don’t know. Just… sorry. Oh, and sorry about that dinner thing too. That was awkward. Oh god I don’t even like to think about it. Sorry.
Welp. There’s not much else to say… Oh, tell my parents I love them and all that jazz. I guess, in summary, you’ve been absolutely fantastic. And you know what?
Caesar Flickerman: And last, we've got District 12. Here comes Wendy, I've heard she'd quite sweet. Let's give her a hand! *crowd claps*
Wendy: Hello, hello! *waves to the audience with a pleasant smile and leans up to kiss Caesar’s cheek before she sits* I’m sure you’ve heard it plenty of times tonight Caesar, but you’re looking fabulous as ever!
Caesar Flickerman: *rubs his cheek and blushes* Why thank you my dear, I always am! And might I say you are too! Are you enjoying being made up by your style team?
Wendy: D'aww, shucks, you're making me blush! *chuckles softly and nods* Oh, I really do. My style team is made up of real sweethearts, let me tell you. Even when they strap me into eight inch heels and expect me to ride in a standing chariot. *turns to the audience and points out her stylist* Yeah, I'm talking to you, Calliope! Look at her, grinnin' in her seat and trying to act innocent. *gives her stylist a wave and turns back to Caesar*
Caesar Flickerman: *crowd laughs* Well you're much less shy than I imagined you to be, Wendy! I'm glad you're enjoying yourself here. What's your favorite thing about the Capitol, aside from ol' Calliope there?
Wendy: Well, back at home I work as a seamstress, so I've always liked admiring clothes. And there's nowhere better for that than here in the Capitol!
Caesar Flickerman: Ahh, very true, very true. So Wendy, how are you feeling about the arena? Are you ready?
Wendy: As ready as I can be. I've trained hard the past couple of days. I hope I can make my parents, my mentor, and my District proud.
Caesar Flickerman: How have you enjoyed working with mentor and recent victor, Jeb Stone? He is a favorite here in the Capitol.
Wendy: I've absolutely loved it. It doesn't surprise me that he's a favorite. In the few short days I've known him, Jeb's become one of my closest friends. I'm sure Sam will tell you the same when he comes out here - Jeb's done so much for the both of us since the Reaping, I can't thank him enough.
Caesar Flickerman: From your reaping you and Sam seem very close? Is there a personal relationship there? And will you be working together in the arena?
Wendy: Oh, yeah, Sam and I have been friends as long as I can remember. We were always close to each other in school -- you know, Sparrow, Spektor, alphabetical order and all. *reaches to her upper arm, sheepishly showing off a faded scar there* In fact, I got this just a couple of weeks ago at Sam's house. I was trying to climb up onto the roof to get a ball for one of his sisters and, well... long story short, I fell out of a window and was pretty beat up. I didn't have time to cry or whine about it, because when I looked up from the ground I saw Sam had jumped out after me. *gives a comical shrug*
Caesar Flickerman: And last, we've got District 12. Here comes Wendy, I've heard she'd quite sweet. Let's give her a hand! *crowd claps*
Wendy: Hello, hello! *waves to the audience with a pleasant smile and leans up to kiss Caesar’s cheek before she sits* I’m sure you’ve heard it plenty of times tonight Caesar, but you’re looking fabulous as ever!
Caesar Flickerman: *rubs his cheek and blushes* Why thank you my dear, I always am! And might I say you are too! Are you enjoying being made up by your style team?
Wendy: D'aww, shucks, you're making me blush! *chuckles softly and nods* Oh, I really do. My style team is made up of real sweethearts, let me tell you. Even when they strap me into eight inch heels and expect me to ride in a standing chariot. *turns to the audience and points out her stylist* Yeah, I'm talking to you, Calliope! Look at her, grinnin' in her seat and trying to act innocent. *gives her stylist a wave and turns back to Caesar*
Caesar Flickerman: *crowd laughs* Well you're much less shy than I imagined you to be, Wendy! I'm glad you're enjoying yourself here. What's your favorite thing about the Capitol, aside from ol' Calliope there?
Wendy: Well, back at home I work as a seamstress, so I've always liked admiring clothes. And there's nowhere better for that than here in the Capitol!
Caesar Flickerman: Ahh, very true, very true. So Wendy, how are you feeling about the arena? Are you ready?
Wendy: As ready as I can be. I've trained hard the past couple of days. I hope I can make my parents, my mentor, and my District proud.
Caesar Flickerman: How have you enjoyed working with mentor and recent victor, Jeb Stone? He is a favorite here in the Capitol.
Wendy: I've absolutely loved it. It doesn't surprise me that he's a favorite. In the few short days I've known him, Jeb's become one of my closest friends. I'm sure Sam will tell you the same when he comes out here - Jeb's done so much for the both of us since the Reaping, I can't thank him enough.
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