how do they handle being upset/angry? do they yell, cry, go silent, etc?
If Will is home, she has a tendency to just disappear when upset and/or angry. The autumn after her victory, she built herself a tree house in one of the trees in her backyard, far enough not to be seen from the house. She goes there when she is home to hide, to be alone. It's quiet, peaceful. Will has kept it up over the years, even spending nearly a year out there after her parents were killed. It is her safe place.
Elsewhere isn't much different. She finds a place to hide or simply just gets quiet, lost in her own thoughts and ruminations.
[Propo] What was growing up in District Seven like?
"I won't lie," their hand is dragged through their short locks, thinking back to her childhood, nervous before the camera despite being in front of one for decades at this point, "it was hard." And that was an understatement. "When I was young life seemed okay. Mama and Da both worked jobs," there's a pause, stagnant and heavy. It may have been over twenty years, but the image of their dead bodies on her front lawn still haunts her memories.
"They'd be gone long hours. Da more than Mama. But they were always home at night. They made sure we had food to eat, even if it meant they went hungry, or that all that was for dinner was beans and broth." It was a simple life. Nothing compared to the overexuberence of the Capitol. She'd been appalled when she'd come to the Capitol and seen the excess that was simply standard for those who lived in the Capitol.
"But then Da, he was injured when I was still a kid. Thirteen or Fourteen. The lumber yards are harsh places. The machinery used to process the wood even worse." They swallowed hard, still able to reminder the metallic scent of blood, of her father's screams as her mother had tried to clean and tend the butchered lump that was his leg while they waited on the closest thing their sector of Seven had to a doctor. "He lost his leg and wasn't able to work anymore. Suddenly things were hard. There wasn't enough food. I got two little siblings and I refused to watch them be hungry. So I went to work. Fourteen and working in the lumber yards... They're no place for kids." Though now before she'd joined up and disappeared to Thirteen, the manager at the lumber yard had a hard time keeping her away from them. But now she was an adult.
She shook her head, a strand of hair falling into her face as she sniffed once. "To see the excess to which people lived when I was brought to the Capitol for the first time, or when I won..." They scoff, blowing air out of their nose and rolling their eyes. "It made me realize that while I wouldn't trade my life for theirs, my life sure could've been a lot easier. They live off of our broken backs. We do all the hard labor and they do what? Party and thrive on our efforts? The Capitol would flounder if it weren't for the people of Seven, or Twelve, or Eleven, Eight, Six, Ten... any of the districts really. "
"Me too," she answered in a contemplative tone, thinking about how funny it was that anything growing in 13 was small, despite the MIGHT of this district. There was symbolism in there somewhere, but June wasn't sure quite yet.
She recognized Will, their quiet way around 13, even during the games, but who was Juniper to judge anyone for the way they acted during that time ? It was, and would be, the most horrific period of the games. Sure, the blood bath she witnessed, the lack of trust and uncertainty in the arena definitely prickled, but that was to be expected. What caught Juniper off guard had been the ' waiting ' period, the ' holding cell ' that happened between being reaped and being murdered. The Capitol was so, so good at hiding their blood stained hands beneath its little white gloves. White roses, white gloves...
"Maybe we dig ourselves out of here, escape back home."
Despite the weight of her words, June said this with a smile on her face, imagining the looks on everyone's faces when they realized 7 would be the first to break free. More and more, Juniper left her hiding spot, found herself more social here in 13, allowed herself to break from the routine of self-isolation she wore back home. Everyone was different, and she wouldn't blame Will for staying in her own spot.
Juniper's words drew a smile upon Will's face, a soft chuckle leaving her lips as she continued with her motions in the dirt. She plucked back a dying leaf, her mind wandering to home. Dying leaves would be the norm back in seven here soon, the trees set ablaze in color as summer faded to winter. Will doubted they would see that anytime soon, not down here, not where the real sun didn't reach. No, there were no hundred year old oaks here.
"Only once the war is won," she murmured in response, "or to liberate it from Snow." One district at a time. They had to keep pushing back. Will dreamed of the day she'd get to see home again. The day she could return to the trees of home, to the serene freedom that the forest offered.
if they could hit redo on a single past event in their life what would it be? would they do it if it meant changing the present?
If Will could go back and redo a single past event in their life, especially knowing it would change the present, it would be the moment she refused to:
entertain sponsors at Snow's request the first time. She'd already lost so much in just a few years - her childhood, her brother - that arriving home to find their parents dead on her front lawn and her little sister held between two peacekeepers with a third holding a gun to her head would truly break her for a long time. Will ended up following through with the President's request anyway, their parents' deaths were their fault and they'd always view it that way. So yes, if it meant getting her parents back, she would willingly accept the President's proposal. Anything to keep their family safe.
for @wherethewillcwsgrcw
where: district 13's garden space
when: during period of the district 8 mission
Juniper loved anything that could grow from a seed. There was a magic to it, that no matter what nature always found a way, and those seeds would sprout into something beautiful. She had always felt like the only person appreciating the way yellow dandelions sprinkled themselves across grass, plotting their path, letting the wind be their guide. They were resilient. It reminded Juniper to have hope, because if a little seed and some wind could do it, so could she, and so could everyone down here in 13.
She had to hold onto that in the face of the rigid structure and lack of fresh air down here. She had to remind herself when everything was grey that it was merely uniformity, it was to keep any one person from setting themselves above. Even President Coin herself abided by these rules, but late at night, Juniper knew her heart found it oppressive.
So today she found herself in the gardens again, the only place in here that flourished with the deep brown of soil and the bright green of healthy leaves. She worked with the kitchens to ensure produce was at its freshest, but her favorite would always be the plant life.
Tending to them gingerly, Juniper allowed herself to snip off the ends, ' dead heading ' she had learned as a kid, and let herself get lost in the rhythm.
Going from a life in the trees to a life underground was hard. A shift in thinking and habit. No longer could she get up and go for a jog through the woods that lines her backyard. No longer could she report to the lumber yard despite not having a need any longer, the foreman long since having learned nothing would send Will back home until she was good and ready. No longer were evenings spent tending to the garden that had become akin to her child, lovingly and painstakingly grown and cared for. The only solace she has found was in the garden of the underground district. The fruits and vegetables were a far cry from the succulents and bushy flowers she cared for, but at least she could get her hands dirty, dig in the dirt and care for something.
They enter the garden now, when the suppression of this underground world begins to get the better of them. She reaches for a pair of shears, depositing them into a pocket and then moving to pick up a small trowel. Will spots the other, but says nothing for a moment. She'd been a recluse, too secluded away even during the games to have gotten to know Juniper well - a lackluster example of a mentor. Good thing Johanna was there when Will had other things on her mind. Even now the only time she got out of her room was when she absolutely needed too.
She kneels down a couple dozen feet away, letting her fingers get to work. She finally looked over after trimming a few wilting leaves off a lettuce plant. "I miss trees, or ya know... anything taller than my knees." It was barely a mumble, softly spoken into the space between them.
-Growing up, Willow was smack in the middle of a group of five children. Aspen, Elm, Willow, Birch, and Laurel were all born within ten years of one another, Birch only minutes before his sister Laurel. For a family in Seven, having five mouths to feed would be hard. For the Dubois family this was no different. But Honey and Johnathan Dubois never let their children know that. The children went to school while Johnathan worked ten to twelve hour days in the lumber yards and Honey worked in a paper factory. But dinner was always on the table at a decent time and the family never wanted for food even if it was bland. Life was okay for the Dubois family.
-That is until her father had a very unfortunate accident when she was fourteen and lost his leg. Suddenly the family so used to two incomes and the relative comfort it provided them were lurched into a life of one less than stellar income. Aspen already had his own wife and a kid on the way, he had his own family to support. And Elm who was on track to a better position than even their father had refused to break away from his training to help and ultimately left the family over it. So Willow took it upon herself to get a job, pretend she was older, drop out of school, and begin working in the very same lumber yards that had nearly taken her father’s life so that at least Birch and Laurel wouldn’t go hungry. The days were long and hard, and she didn’t earn as much as her father had. She sometimes skipped a meal here or there, but at least her little brother and sister were fed.
-But cruel is fate. In January of 48 Birch grew ill, a nasty virus that refused to leave and ultimately claimed his life. The family was struck with grief. Her mother grew depressed, refused to leave bed, no matter how much Willow or Johnathan or Laurel begged her to get up. She’d loose her job at the paper factory. Willow would take her own grief and anger out on the lumberyards, work sunup to sundown. And sit around a bar for hours after sundown.
-She was sixteen, almost seventeen that year, only a year and a half older than Laurel, the year her sister’s name rang out over the reaping square that morning, Willow wouldn’t think twice before volunteering for her sister. She couldn’t loose someone else, not so soon after loosing Birch and Laurel… Well Laurel had only known the ‘just okay’ life Willow’d ensured her sister would never miss out on. She couldn’t win. There was no way.
-Willow was sweet and quiet in the Capitol. She had a plan in mind and she’d stick to it. She scored a three in private training, shared how much she missed her family during her interview, and ultimately was passed off as canon fodder by the career tributes and sponsors alike. No one, not even her mentors knew the true story behind her ploy. Enter the arena though and she already had a leg up, coniferous trees abounded as far as the eye could see. But she did nothing, hiding amongst the branches. She’d follow some tributes, but only to hurry down the tree when they weren’t looking and steal food or other items. One such item being an axe her district partner had received as a sponsor gift - it sucked to be him that day. She’d killed two before the finale, one who’d found her at a river and had ended up with the axe in his chest. She’d refused to let herself see the dead tribute as anything other than an animal, convincing herself that she was fine and it was nothing more than killing a wild boar back home. The second she had met and allied with for a day before the girl had tried to kill her in her sleep. It’d been the other’s own dagger that had ended her life - lithe muscles still working despite ongoing hunger from the arena. Both a surprise as she’d always seemed to meek and weak.
-They’d been ushered together by the game makers and mutts, she’d offed one on the way, but stuck to the high branches of the trees away from mutts and other tributes. She watched as two of the careers converged on her district partner before taking on each other. She watched in curiosity as the final stood in the clearing, a clearing she was sure hadn’t been there before, mutts circling but not attacking. She heard the boy shout he was ready to get out of the arena. She’d been forgotten. Good. He hadn’t seen the axe come flying out of the tree.
-She’d arrive home and move her and her family to her new home. No one would see her though, for the following several months. She’d refuse to leave for anything or anyone at least until she was forced for her victory tour. It was during her victory tour that she decided she preferred to be called Will. She was no longer Willow. Willow had been a quiet, albeit strong, girl who was naive to the actual cruelties that the world around her sustained, cruelties much greater than those she’d experienced in Seven. She was no longer Willow.
-That fact was only solidified when at eighteen, she was summoned to the Capitol, just weeks after the Quarter Quell to have a personal audience with Snow. She’d refuse his offer and before she could even get home, her parents were dead and the little sister she’d volunteered for was being held at gunpoint. She’d accept Snow’s proposal via teleconference, further distancing herself from the girl Willow was and deepening her identity in Will. Will could withstand so much more than Willow ever could have imagined.
-Will would spend the next two decades in and out of the Capitol for the Games, or visiting sponsors, or being forced to meetings with Snow. Getting high and drunk became common past times, anything to stay complacent, to keep the nightmares at bay, and make her visits to the Capitol at least something she could withstand. But twenty years is a long time to be complacent. And Will was never complacent even if they acted the part well enough, acted the part of being controlled by Snow’s hold over her in the form of her family. So when the whispers of a rebellion started, Will didn’t spend to long in finding the right people to get themself involved with. And when the arena of the seventy-fifth hunger games blew up, Will was already on their way to District Thirteen.
