𝐋𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐄 *

[withereth-moved]

AND ON THY CHEEKS a fading rose ;

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ( fast withereth too )

…    #WITHERETH  ，an  independent ,  selective  &  private , multimuse  from  suzanne collins' THE HUNGER GAMES series ... containing both canon and oc muses . thoroughly adored by  ;  jane ,  24 ,  she  /  her . sideblog to sirendrowns

carrd. | permanent calls. | memes.

mobile friendly muse list below the cut !

canon: annie cresta * primary asterid march * primary cashmere aveline * primary cecelia doff * tertiary finnick odair * primary madge undersee * secondary oc: caius snow * tertiary iunia snow * secondary hollie iverlow * tertiary moxie tune * secondary

[withereth-moved]

HI BESTIES !

i'm trying something new and shifting this over to my main blog . you can find me @withereth !!!! same url, same bitches , but annie is there too. had to consolidate for my wellbeing lol.

not dropping any threads as far as i think so far, will just be moving them over. if you want to drop them as i move my stuff over, that's fine! let me know or don't. you do you <3

[brdeverdeen]

really, his hands would be shaking if they weren't so steady from years of hunting, years of working knives and wood. he still sported the scars from those early years of unsure hands. but any nicks and scratches now came from hurried mistakes, not the fault of trembling.

he could hardly believe those same hands held asterid march so close. her face, soft against palms that were rough and worn with calluses. but she's in his lap and has a hand in his hair and another on his shirt, tugging him closer, and he's desperate to give her what she wants. he can feel the heat come off his body, pressed against her like this. can feel something else stir in him and one arm wraps around her waist, holding her tight against him.

but then she slows and when she pulls away he chases her, briefly, lips following hers before pulling back himself. he pinches his eyes shut harder, half afraid that if he opened them he'd find it to be a dream. he'd wake in the woods to the teasing jeers of his friends. or worse, alone, left with only thoughts of her wanting him.

but he can hear her breathing, can feel it against his own as he tries catching his breath. her weight rests on his lap, too sure and steady to be a dream.

he lets out a breathy sigh but his eyes pop open at her words. he's met with her blue eyes and it brings him back to where he is. hidden away in her bedroom, asterid, with her legs on either side of him, in his lap.

“me?” he questions. because how could he not? between her actions and the words out of her mouth, he was suddenly wide awake. “shit.” he repeats, sounding stunned. “where'd you learn how to talk like that?” there's a gentle tease in his tone and he brushes his nose against hers. “didn't think y'all said words like that 'round here.”

and he actually manages a smile, they'd felt so rare since the reaping. the arm around her waist loosens, so she could move, and the hand moves first to her hip, then her waist, then decides none of those are appropriate and opts for the knee by his left hip. his other hand still cups her face and he runs his thumb against her cheek.

“you think i never been kissed before now? 'cause i been kissed before.” his voice drops, softer still, and tilts his head, because he can't shake the urge to kiss her again. there were girls, of course; they'd sneak out behind the hob, one had even helped sneak into the old garage where people liked to gamble. they were kicking kids outta there constantly. he tried not to think about the couple of boys that he'd kissed, where they'd sworn one another to secrecy out of fear, and pushed the thought far from his mind.

it wasn't what he wanted to think about now. he wanted to focus on her. on this.

this was electricity coursing through him. he could feel it tingling, keeping him on edge, like those rare moments when the fence was turned on. he worried that he'd done too much, come on too strong, but then her fists wouldn't be tangled up in him. she wanted this too, right? his hand drops slowly down her cheek and his gaze follows, his thumb brushes along her lower lip and he feels his face grow hot with a blush that darkens his cheeks and ears.

“i'd reckon you been kissed before too. unless those town boys” those town boys would have to be fools not to try. smart and kind and stubborn asterid march, who risked her hide for people she didn't know. they were risking plenty now, hidden away with a boy from the seam in her room. his hand moves again and brushes her hair behind her ear. his heart picks up again, eyes darting to the door, just briefly before looking back to her.

there would be no painting this picture in his favor, if someone walked in now. they were mostly hidden but it wouldn't matter. none of it would. but he couldn't bring himself to care. that maybe it would be worth any sort of fallout if they got caught.

the eye rolls and comments that he was wasting his time from his friends hardly mattered when he stood across the counter from her, watching her tally-up his trades, or when they sat close together, pouring over the plant book. her looks of concentration, the way she lit up when he brought her a flower from the woods delighted him to no end.

“i've wanted to do this for a while...” a pause because he's suddenly aware of her weight across his lap and burdie feels the blush spreading across his face again. “kissin', i mean. –kissin' you. i–” he pulls his head away a short bit, just enough to take her in, and nervously wets his lips, wondering if she'd had something on her lips, because he can taste it. taste her lips, maybe. he sighs, expression softening as his fingers run along her hair and gives her a bashful smile. “i like you a lot,” he says, dazed and happy. a piece repeated from the other day, when he'd come into the apothecary with flowers, to bare his heart to her.

[withereth-moved]

HIS   HANDS   ARE   ALL   OVER   HER   and   she   only   wants   them   to   keep   going   ,   but   she   has   at   least   half   a   mind   .   it's   something   deep   within   her   ,   but   she   hardly   knows   him   ,   at   least   not   like   this   .   there's   a   certain   sense   of   intimacy   coming   from   the   setting   ,   and   from   their   little   secret   hideout   pressed   against   her   bed   .   from   the   shared   knowledge   and   the   trading   and   giggles   that   their   friends   couldn't   fathom   understanding   .

now   ,   so   close   ,   she   can   appreciate   so   much   more   of   him   .   despite   the   work   she   does   with   her   hands   ,   they're   baby   soft   ,   every   inch   of   her   skin   scrubbed   and   lotioned   ,   hands   gloved   when   she   fashions   salves   and   tonics   for   protection   .   his   are   pleasant   and   real   ,   telling   stories   without   words   .

then   ,   he   speaks   and   she's   giggling   like   a   child   ,   giddy   from   the   kiss   .   it's   amusing   ,   she   thinks   of   the   strings   of   obscenities   she's   heard   from   nearly   everyone   in   her   life   .   ❝   we   still   say   'em   ,   just   in   private   ,   ❞   asterid   insists   through   a   shy   smile   .   she   doesn't   ,   not   really   ,   but   most   do   .   like   decent   folk   ,   her   parents   would   say   .   she   didn't   much   like   the   sentiment   .

when   his   arm's   grip   loosens   on   her   ,   she's   disappointed   .   still   ,   she   leans   her   cheek   into   his   hand   on   impulse   .   asterid   releases   the   vice   grip   on   his   shirt   reluctantly   ,   letting   her   hand   fall   to   her   thigh   ,   fingertips   still   absently   messing   with   the   fabric   while   the   other   rested   at   the   crook   of   his   neck   ,   skin   on   skin   ,   wishing   for   more   .

her   mind's   a   mess   ,   but   that's   nothing   new   .   it   spins   and   spins   ,   but   this   new   cloud   of   HIM   threatens   to   take   over   ,   the   haze   taking   over   all   sense   of   normalcy   .

it's   silly   ,   she   doesn't   like   the   thought   of   him   kissing   anyone   else   ,   though   she   hardly   has   a   leg   to   stand   on   .   everyone   knew   he   was   a   catch   .   talented   ,   smart   ,   funny   ,   and   totally   inaccessible   to   everyone   in   her   circles   .   she   fights   the   urge   to   imagine   it   ,   burdie   with   some   pretty   seam   girl   with   silky   black   hair   and   bright   eyes   .   but   he   moves   ,   and   her   lips   part   just   barely   on   impulse   ,   pressing   a   kiss   to   his   thumb   as   it   brushes   by   .

this   time   ,   she   blushes   .   a   lack   of   overlying   color   sends   her   cheeks   bright   pink   with   warmth   .   ❝   i've   been   kissed   before   ,   ❞   her   tone   is   almost   defensive   ,   insisting   upon   itself   .   and   she   has   ,   plenty   .   not   as   much   as   the   rumor   mill   would   say   ,   but   more   than   most   thought   was   actually   true   ,   all   things   considered   .   there'd   been   boys   ,   chaste   little   pecks   and   heated   exchanges   for   her   to   run   from   before   they   got   too   far   .   but   then   ,   there'd   been   maysilee   .   practicing   ,   that   was   the   word   they   used   ,   but   they   weren't   idiots   ,   only   curious   and   scared   .

on   a   moment's   reflection   ,   she   needs   to   backtrack   .   what   if   he   thought   poorly   of   her   ,   even   if   he'd   done   the   same   ?   she   might   just   die   right   there   .   ❝   but   not   a   lot   .   this   is   special   for   me   ,   i   ain't   easy   .   ❞   admittedly   ,   there's   no   justification   ,   no   reason   for   him   to   believe   this   wasn't   how   every   first   kiss   went   .

if   she   were   honest   with   herself   ,   she   didn't   quite   understand   how   they'd   found   each   other   like   this   ,   either   .

the   door   isn't   locked   ,   she'd   warned   him   the   first   several   times   .   but   people   were   prone   to   knocking   –   she   was   a   teenage   girl   and   she   ought   to   be   asleep   .   very   few   things   couldn't   wait   'till   morning   .   she   hoped   there'd   be   enough   time   .   time   to   push   him   down   ,   to   usher   him   under   her   bed   or   into   the   closet   ,   to   slip   under   her   sheets   and   be   convincingly   half-awake   .   it's   utilitarian   ,   really   ,   how   her   neat   dresses   have   to   be   switched   out   for   her   summer   nightclothes   .   always   some   candy-colored   set   that   leaves   her   feeling   naked   in   comparison   to   the   day   .   it's   improper   ,   but   he's   only   burdie   ,   and   she   couldn't   ward   off   the   beating   of   her   heart   with   her   heaviest   winter   coat   .

her   breath   catches   .   she   grins   ,   biting   down   on   her   lip   out   of   habit   as   she   looked   at   him   from   a   more   comfortable   distance   ,   each   bit   of   him   in   focus   .   ❝   me   ,   too   ,   all   of   it   .   ❞   she   admits   ,   the   flush   coming   raging   back   with   a   vengeance   to   her   cheeks   .   she   likes   him   ,   she's   been   thinking   about   kissing   him   ,   so   she   does   .   she   leans   in   ,   kissing   him   once   again   ,   giving   into   the   urge   .   slow   and   soft   ,   not   rushing   things   ,   she   wants   to   savor   the   moment   .   when   she   gets   the   courage   ,   she   pulls   back   once   more   ,   careful   not   to   let   herself   get   carried   away   in   the   heat   of   the   moment   .

she   speaks   shyly   ,   unlike   herself   ,   especially   with   him   .   usually   ,   they   could   talk   plants   ,   something   she   knew   well   enough   to   offset   all   that   she   didn't   know   about   life   .   ❝   i   don't   wanna   kiss   anybody   else   ,   not   if   we're   gonna   be   hangin'   out   ,   ❞   she   says   .   they   aren't   anything   ,   not   really   .   nothing   demanding   any   sort   of   exclusivity   ,   but   her   heart's   spoken   up   .   ❝   you   ...   don't   have'ta   do   the   same   .   i'm   not   your   girl   or   nothing   ,   but   i   thought   you   oughta   know   how   i   am   ,   'cause   i   know   how   boys   talk   .   ❞

[wormholxtreme]

@withereth said | "maybe i don’t recognize you sober." from college finnick

Peeta cracked his head to the side, glancing up at Finnick, with a perturbed expression. They haven't had an official meeting, but Peeta had seen the other man sneaking out of Annie's room in the mornings on occasion. He had just assumed Finnick didn't want to draw attention to himself, and Peeta was perfectly content to roll with the lie that neither boys were in their girlfriend's dorm room every night.

After a moment of befuddlement though, Peeta shrugged it off and just rolled with the conversation. "And hungover," Peeta mused playfully extending a hand. "Peeta, I'm Katniss's partner. I'm sure we've caught glimpses of each other in the ladies' dorm room." he explained, officially introducing himself.

[withereth-moved]

FRIENDLY   AS   EVER   ,   he   grins   and   shakes   the   hand   extended   to   him   ,   silly   as   it   feels   in   such   a   context   .   ❝   finnick   ,   ❞   he   says   .   ❝   hungover   ,   definitely   .   i’m   annie’s   boyfriend   ,   ❞   it   feels   almost   juvenile   after   the   word   ‘   partner   ,   ’   but   who   is   he   to   say   anything   about   it   .   he’ll   have   to   question   annie   on   whatever   that   situation   is   later   .

there’s   no   shame   in   how   he   holds   himself   ,   loose   and   light   and   casual   .   they   were   all   adults   ,   and   if   his   past   was   anything   to   speak   of   ,   this   was   the   more   wholesome   of   situations   .   ❝   sorry   if   i’ve   been   rude   in   the   mornings   ,   annie’ll   kill   me   if   i   wake   her   up   when   i   head   out   ,   ❞   he   laughed   .   not   fully   true   ,   but   it   works   .

[brdeverdeen]

against his better judgement, he takes a step back when she looks at him. afraid he may very lose a hand if he stayed where he was.

the last time he'd seen her so mad they were kids. not to say they hadn't argued since then, they'd plenty of spats, sure, but none like this. not since she'd chewed him out for running off that year. and just like then, her words sting. “c'mon now, what's that supposed to mean, huh?” there's a pinch to his brows but no malice behind the words. he's curious. annoyed, even, despite feeling he knew exactly what she meant.

there were plenty of times he'd done stupid things, especially as he'd gotten older. funny to think that asterid had hardly known the boy he was before. briefly, from behind the counter of her parents shop, sure. the boy dragging his cousin away from the trouble she'd get into, worried for her safety. the one who kept his worst thoughts in the woods so no one would hear, but who sat and listened to the miner's whisper in the hob. it seemed natural that he'd grow into the man, discussing taboo and illegal things in the mines himself. he'd started up the whispers in the hob when they'd begun dying down. understood that a little fear or worry was worth it.

but he watches her: the tension in her jaw, hands clenching again and again. burdock can't help but want to comfort her, but he keeps a distance. her threat, however, raises his brows, a look of frustration and longing rolled into one. the urge to stop this all and kiss her rises in him, like when they were younger and all that mattered was falling into bed together, but he had a feeling that wouldn't work with this time.

he'd always promised that they'd talk, that they wouldn't let disagreements get in the way of fighting for each other, even when it seemed impossible.

“just like that?” he sighs, because she's shutting it all down. and this time it's his hands that move to his face, he rubs at his forehead briefly before giving a small groan and pushing the loose bits of hair back from his face. and he stands like that a moment, hands atop his head. “for fuck's sake, baby, i talked to her already.” there's no bite at all to the words. he sounds tired now, just as she does. there's something of a plea in his voice. like he's desperate for her to understand him. hands drop to his side and paces back to where he was, leans back against their porch and shuts his eyes. “i told her already we ain't gonna be singin' it anymore.”

it'd been such a natural instinct when he'd sat beside that honeysuckle bush in the meadow, katniss in his lap. promising that mama wasn't mad at her. told her that song wasn't safe to know and that her mama was right to be angry at him for teaching it. that the both of them shouldn't sing it again. that he trusted her to not sing it ever again.

“and i said we. her and me.” he'd known asterid was angry to raise her voice. knew that this fight, the one he knew they'd come out on the porch to have once the girls were asleep, was not one with a winner. but burdie was one to dig his heels in.

he wasn't scared of the gallows. or of asterid, despite her threat. but he knew she was serious, a mama bear in front of her cubs.

“what else d'you want me to say? yes, ma'am?” he holds his arms out in question. “'cause i'm hearin' you loud 'nd clear. no more talks of hangin' trees or rope necklaces from this family.” he holds his palms up, a promise to her. to whoever would listen. he's not happy, but neither is she. only the innocent ears of a child would pick up the lyrics in that way. katniss hadn't witnessed a hanging. not yet, anyway.

still, he wanted her to understand. needed her to, just a little bit.

“i was a kid the first time i heard that song,” he murmurs and he rests his palms on the railing again and looks away from her. it was a fond memory, out in the woods like most bits of his childhood was. a song lenore dove was always willing to sing to him, one they'd learned how to play together. “the girls deserve to know it, too.”

[withereth-moved]

BURDIE   MUST   NOT   UNDERSTAND   ,   that’s   all   she   can   come   to   .   rebellion   ,   that   she   can   handle   .   she’d   done   her   fair   share   ,   gave   up   her   promise   of   a   stable   life   full   of   luxuries   for   it   .   ran   off   with   a   coal   miner   and   outlasted   each   rumor   as   it   came   through   ,   hardly   turned   a   sour   face   even   on   the   worst   days   .

what   she   hates   is   the   passing   it   all   on   to   the   babies   .   overprotective   ,   probably   ,   but   she   can   hardly   help   it   .   if   it   were   anyone   else’s   children   ,   she’d   think   it   was   brave   .   even   when   it   was   her   and   him   out   in   the   woods   ,   she   thought   it   was   fine   and   dandy   .   most   days   ,   she'd   do   anything   to   be   seventeen   again   with   nothing   to   do   on   a   weekend   other   than   run   out   to   the   lake   and   listen   to   him   sing   while   they   dried   off   in   the   sun   .   only   makes   sense   that   he   got   it   all   from   somewhere   ,   much   younger   than   he   was   once   he   found   out   what   to   do   with   it   all   .

but   these   are   her   babies   ,   the   same   little   faces   that   she   kissed   and   swaddled   while   they   were   still   covered   in   the   aftermath   of   birth   .   the   only   two   people   that   she   was   fully   and   completely   tasked   with   protecting   .

she   watches   him   ,   unafraid   to   stare   him   down   no   matter   the   circumstances   .   the   way   he   moves   when   she   freezes   ,   fire   to   her   ice   .   her   lips   press   into   a   thin   line   .   she   means   it   ,   the   threat   ,   even   if   she   isn't   sure   how   to   go   about   following   through   .   they're   tired   ,   the   day   was   long   and   all   of   this   added   something   new   and   terrible   to   it   .   what   a   wasted   good   day   .   talk's   cheap   .   she   tells   katniss   ten   times   a   day   not   to   wipe   her   mouth   with   her   sleeve   or   run   in   the   house   or   play   too   loudly   when   prim   is   napping   .

at   least   as   of   yet   ,   it   doesn't   mean   much   .

finally   ,   a   deep   breath   and   a   sigh   .   not   giving   in   ,   but   finding   common   ground   .   a   meet   in   the   middle   ,   showing   a   measure   of   good   faith   that   she   was   trying   to   understand   him   .   asterid   bridges   the   gap   between   them   ,   face   softening   .   her   arms   lift   to   his   shoulders   ,   clasping   her   hands   behind   his   head   .

❝   hey   ,   thank   you   for   talkin'   to   her   ,   i   mean   it   ,   ❞   she   attempts   in   little   more   than   a   whisper   .   it's   stilted   ,   there's   no   doubt   that   she's   still   upset   ,   but   what's   done   is   done   .   her   body   leans   against   his   ,   head   tilted   back   to   look   up   at   him   .   her   husband   ,   the   person   she   kept   choosing   ,   even   when   he   was   like   this   .   ❝   you're   right   ,   they   oughta   know   something   ,   but   i'd   appreciate   you   runnin'   the   hard   stuff   by   me   .   ❞

it's   a   compromise   ,   maybe   .   something   she   thinks   might   count   as   fair   .   not   her   kids   ,   not   his   kids   ,   but   theirs   together   ,   something   they   both   ought   to   have   a   say   in   .   there's   a   balance   between   the   passion   all   of   this   ignites   in   him   and   the   safety   of   their   little   world   ,   and   it'll   take   the   both   of   them   to   find   it   .   still   ,   she   can't   bring   herself   to   apologize   ,   if   only   because   she's   just   not   sorry   .   but   they're   young   ,   and   she   doesn't   think   he'll   hold   it   against   her   if   she   doesn't   demand   one   from   him   ,   either   .

not   quite   a   risk   ,   but   in   testing   the   water   ,   she   pushes   up   on   her   toes   and   gives   the   smallest   of   smiles   .   ❝   though   ,   if   you're   offerin'   ,   i   guess   i   wouldn't   mind   a   yes   ,   ma'am   to   prove   you're   serious   .   ❞

[tridentide]

@withereth sent in : ∞ + 28 from cashmere / song starters. ( no complaints by noah kahan )

FINNICK CANNOT COMPLAIN. he knows this -- he knows it is ridiculous to whine and cry and lay around while annie is in capitol hands. thirteen is so far from the sea, so claustrophobic. it's almost as if he can still hear the buzzing of insects, the closed in swamp canopy of his arena. the end is just like the middle, he thinks bitterly. 

he spends hours tying and untying knots. over and over, he lives in constant and unending repetition. the rope that curls around his fingers is more familiar to him than annie's hold, than the sound of her laugh or glimpse of her smile. the medication those doctors in the medical bay give do nothing but cause him to slip into darkness, nightmares notwithstanding. the lack of dreaming is almost worse than the night terrors.

he's sure cashmere may feel the same. she lost her brother in that arena by katniss's hand, and now she must celebrate the mockingjay's hollow victories, distant calls for war. finnick finds her in the cafeteria, alone. all victors had their own coping mechanisms here ; finnick had his knots, katniss had her back utility rooms where she hid until someone fished her out. and cashmere ? finnick did not approach her often, and so he did not know. he takes a chance, and settles beside her, rope between his fingers. " it feels stupid. " he says, his voice breaking from unuse. finnick catches his reflection in the unnaturally shiny surface of the cafeteria table : his lips are chapped and eyes are bloodshot -- when did that happen ? he sniffs, looks away. " . . . to cry, i mean. but sometimes i just miss fresh air. " fresh air, meaning annie. fresh air, meaning the feeling of her soft curls, and the flash of her in the ocean waves, free. fresh air, meaning that fake freedom he got in four, those short months between games. war is turning into something of a stagnation. finnick eventually forces himself to glance towards cashmere, bumping against her lightly. " . . . if you want to talk, we can. "   

[withereth-moved]

THIRTEEN   IS   A   PRISON   IN   A   DIFFERENT   FORM   than   the   one   she   is   used   to   .   better   ,   sometimes   .   she   sleeps   alone   ,   that's   a   plus   .   the   cons   greatly   outweigh   the   benefits   ,   but   she   isn't   allowed   to   admit   it   aloud   .   the   clothes   are   scratchy   ,   so   are   the   sheets   .   her   brother   is   dead   .   she   hasn't   had   refined   sugar   since   well   before   the   games   .   her   limbs   ache   for   some   substantive   movement   ,   anything   beyond   walking   from   place   to   place   and   stretching   on   the   floor   of   her   compartment   .   still   ,   she's   allowed   to   be   among   the   people   ,   famously   good   at   holding   it   all   together   .

the   same   cannot   be   said   for   finnick   ,   who   she   sees   in   a   hospital   gown   as   often   as   not   .   she   is   in   a   daze   ,   as   she   so   often   is   nowadays   .   thinking   ,   or   maybe   not   at   all   .   comprehending   the   gravity   of   their   situation   .   but   then   someone   is   there   —   not   a   stranger   ,   a   friend   .   she   doesn't   turn   her   head   to   look   at   him   ,   an   odd   kindness   in   a   place   such   as   this   .   neither   of   them   are   at   their   best   .

she   sighs   ,   quick   and   perfunctory   .   eyes   close   for   a   moment   ,   longer   than   a   blink   .   she's   listening   ,   that   much   is   clear   .   ❝   i   would   kill   for   some   orange   juice   ,   ❞   cashmere   admits   .   simple   pleasures   ,   something   sweet   and   tart   to   excite   her   senses   .   it's   a   new   feeling   ,   this   longing   ,   but   she   would   do   anything   in   the   world   to   be   six   years   old   again   at   the   breakfast   table   ,   bickering   with   her   brother   .   she   leans   to   bump   shoulders   with   him   once   more   ,   a   ghost   of   a   smile   on   her   lips   .   by   design,   she   doesn't   ask   how   he's   doing   ,   they   both   know   the   answer   .   ❝   we   can   talk   .   i've   missed   seeing   you   around   .   ❞

if   he   was   going   to   be   so   vulnerable   ,   she'll   admit   her   own   misgivings   of   the   day   .   ❝   i   think   we've   got   opposite   problems   .   dunno   if   you   saw   ,   but   my   parents   ...   ❞   a   moment   for   a   deep   breath   .   here   ,   they   don't   take   kindly   to   complaints   about   the   rebel   cause   .   still   ,   her   flat   affectation   gives   away   little   about   her   feelings   .   though   ,   to   be   fair   ,   she   isn't   sure   how   she   feels   ,   either   .   ❝   looks   like   they've   been   in   hiding   .   someone   gave   them   up   ,   and   their   executions   happened   earlier   today   .   so   i   guess   we   fully   conquered   one   ,   now   .   ❞

[tridentide]

CASHMERE'S ANGER IS NOT UNFOUNDED ; he cannot remember what he said, something horrible, probably, and while finnick knows he should be feeling some type of anger in response, in actuality he cannot stop laughing. it seems ridiculous, but the amount of alcohol in his system, the drugs that have mysteriously made their way into his system, leaves him dizzy, lightheaded, and with the ability to find absolutely everything hilarious.

as cashmere screams at him something with a lack of evidence ( did she just say he's jealous of her -- and mad because he can't get her into bed ? ), finnick grins. it may come off sloppy for anyone that knows him to be suave and confident and clean, but he could care less. instead, he grabs another drink from a passing avox -- something violet and so sweet that he almost finds himself throwing up at the scent alone. instead of setting it down and searching for anything else, finnick chugs it, and watches as cashmere empties her stomach instead. just another night in paradise.

" cash--. " finnick laughs, almost slipping on his way over to her side, rubbing methodically at her back, like he would do with someone seasick. " y'know, there's no reason to get so upset. " he sets down his drink, running a hand through his copper and slightly messy, subtly curled, hair. finnick is mostly teasing. he knew he was perhaps pushing the other victor's limits, especially as inebriated as they both were, but he couldn't resist. " if you wanted to get me into bed, you could just ask. " his tone is overly sweet, like the violet drink he'd just swallowed. finnick feels a touch of regret, distantly. annie. they both knew -- annie was waiting at home, as ceasar and claudius were no doubt running through these celebrations, the night before the next games. finnick would never actually sleep with cashmere, but it still crosses his lips, still comes naturally. 

he's changing, drastically. they both are. not quite district, not quite capitol. all celebrity. all murderers. 

finnick feels his smile drop for half a second, but the capitol party-goers are mostly watching cashmere, at the moment. he gestures a few of them away with a grin, a half - hearted laugh, a boyish shrug. they all got drunk. half of them already were. that's all this was. ( that had to be all it was. )

" take a breath. " finnick says, softer, as he turns back to her. his hand ghosts over the small of her back, but doesn't touch. he wouldn't touch. he goes back to a smile, if only for publicity reasons. " gotta put on a brave face tomorrow, right ? showtime. " careers or not, if either of them show up with a migraine, or worse, alcohol poisoning, it hurts their tributes' chances. haymitch only got away with it because he was from twelve, because he'd long since lost the ability to care. finnick and cashmere had no choice but to act brave. untouchable. the very image of victory and hope. 

he touches lightly at cashmere's elbow, and once he's sure she's finished with the potted plant, gently pulls her up and away a few steps, calling, laughingly, to the watching capitol citizens. " i'm gonna go get her some air. don't worry, we'll be back ! " finnick leads cashmere out a side door and into a smaller, more private alley, where the stars are just barely visible through the smog of midnight air. " . . . feeling better ? " 

[withereth-moved]

THE   LAUGHTER   AND   SMILES   ONLY   FUEL   HER   UPSET   ,   rage   coursing   through   her   like   nothing   else   .   then   again   ,   it   wasn't   hard   to   spark   after   a   hard   week   ,   and   he   was   one   of   the   very   few   people   that   it   could   be   taken   out   on   with   minimal   consequences   .   even   deep   in   her   stupor   ,   she   must   know   that   he   won't   hold   it   against   her   ,   at   least   not   forever   .

through   the   puking   ,   she   can   feel   the   tears   in   her   eyes   .   white   hot   and   burning   holes   in   her   skin   ,   shameful   .   her   mother   would   be   mortified   to   know   she   acted   this   way   ever   ,   much   less   in   public   .   it   fills   her   newly   empty   stomach   with   dread   .   still   ,   she   can't   help   herself   .   mixing   too   many   liquors   always   made   her   lose   her   filter   .

❝   kill   yourself   .   ❞

classy   .   smooth   ,   that   was   definitely   part   of   the   classic   AVELINE   way   .   eloquent   and   poised   ,   not   exactly   equating   to   the   sight   of   her   hunched   over   a   plant   in   its   last   hours   alive   .   there   must   have   been   something   wrong   with   one   of   her   drinks   .   or   the   substances   .   who   really   knew   ?   she   should   be   more   careful   .

at   his   direction   ,   she   really   does   try   to   take   a   breath   .   it   isn't   easy   ,   her   doctors   would   probably   call   this   a   panic   attack   ,   but   she   knows   how   to   push   through   it   .   cashmere   doesn't   want   to   get   him   into   bed   ,   she   knows   that   he   knows   that   .   the   embarrassment   would   have   to   come   in   tomorrow   when   she   was   more   aware   of   herself   .

but   he   was   right   ,   as   much   as   she   hated   to   admit   it   .   they   had   to   be   at   the   top   of   their   game   .   it   was   only   right   ,   they   were   the   best   chances   at   the   typical   obscene   levels   of   sponsorships   expected   for   their   districts   .   the   others   could   beg   ,   but   all   they   would   have   to   do   is   show   up   and   look   pretty   .

it   takes   a   moment   to   compose   herself   ,   but   then   she's   stumbling   along   with   him   ,   wiping   her   mouth   and   eyes   with   her   sleeves   .   her   chin   lifts   ,   staring   up   at   the   stars   through   the   smog   .   reminds   her   of   home   ,   though   she   hasn't   seen   it   in   years   .   ❝   i   don't   feel   good   ,   ❞   she   admits   ,   slurring   all   the   while   ,   but   that's   no   secret   .

if   this   was   typical   ,   SNOW   would've   killed   her   long   ago   .   she's   known   how   to   handle   herself   since   before   he   arrived   .   certainly   has   always   known   her   limits   ,   as   attuned   to   her   body's   needs   as   she   was   .   ❝   you   don't   think   i'll   get   in   too   much   trouble   if   i   go   home   ,   do   you   ?   ❞

[oddsfavorcdarch]

@withereth sent: “you climb like a girl. no offense.”

enobaria barks a laugh, so sudden that she almost falls off the climbing wall. key word: almost.

“what's that supposed to mean?” she asks, an eyebrow raised. “don't tell me you're trying to pull that johanna shit. it's not going to work.” not that she doesn't respect johanna — it's like they drilled into her head during her time at the academy, know your strengths and work to them, and johanna mason sure as shit knew that she looked like a weak, sad little outlying tribute — but that strategy would be never work for a career, not during their first games and especially not now, now that they've already been through the arena once. all their skills have already been shown off, all their talents already displayed.

“besides,” she huffs, pulling herself up on another set of handholds. “i know how to use more weapons than most of those victors have even seen. i don't need to be good at climbing.”

[withereth-moved]

CASHMERE   STANDS   BACK   ,   hands   crossed   under   her   chest   .   always   more   of   a   watcher   than   people   took   her   ,   happy   to   observe   before   running   forth   to   try   something   on   her   own   .   it   was   what   made   her   lethal   ,   the   lack   of   impulsivity   .   ❝   i'm   not   negging   you   ,   i'm   saying   a   fact   ,   ❞   she   says   ,   though   the   smile   is   evident   in   her   tone   .   almost   playful   ,   if   she   still   knew   how   to   do   that   .   genuine   ,   though   .   they   all   knew   the   severity   of   times   like   these   ,   but   she's   never   been   one   to   hold   back   unsolicited   advice   . 

❝   you're   getting   cocky   ,   it's   unbecoming   ,   ❞   rich   ,   coming   from   her   .   ❝   what   are   you   gonna   do   when   someone   who   knows   what   theyre   doing   comes   after   you   ?   i   bet   jo   would   come   up   there   with   a   knife   in   her   teeth   like   a   crazy   person   .   ❞

[brdeverdeen]

brows furrow. he wants to argue back that he could help out. that the money didn't matter as much as what she was doing. but it did. he relied on that money and, now, more than ever, it was needed. he'd been trading less in the hob and bringing game and berries to the tributes' families. the abernathys and then the mccoys. he tried to visit mrs. a and sid everyday, at least for a bit.

he'd promised to show sid how to refill their cistern next week because hay might not be back to do the job.

tomorrow he'd bring something for the callows and the donners and the thought of a new day breaking hardly eased the discontentment that brewed deep within him. after all, what would tomorrow bring for haymitch?

he's about to open his mouth, shakes his head and all, when she moves. his jaw drops just briefly because she feels so close. closer than she had ever been? he can see the brightness of her eyes, the differing shades of blue there that he hadn't noticed from a distance. he almost doesn't hear her. almost.

his gaze drops from her eyes to her lips. lips he's wanted to kiss for what's felt like forever. since she'd shared her family's plant book with him, shoulder to shoulder, whispering and painfully close, and accidentally, and not so accidentally, brushing against her hand on the page.

the pounding of his heart eases the ache there because she wants to kiss him and looks at him with something he can't quite describe.

“...asterid?” her name sounds far more like a plea than a question he doesn't even know the meaning of. there was no question. he'd understood her perfectly.

he wants to say yes, of course, please and leave no room for hesitation. the world melts away, his worries with it, because right now she's all that matters. when he reaches out, his palm at her cheek and fingers weaving into the hair at her neck, burdie pulls her in to meet him halfway, and kisses her.

their lips touch, gentle at first, but he doesn't stop, doesn't let go, and kisses her again and again. something desperate and filled with longing builds up in him as he shifts further, turning closer, all while refusing to end their kiss. on her knees, she's above him, and he turns just as quick as she had, and puts his arm around her waist, hand resting at the small of her back, and pulls her to him again. until their bodies are closer and they're chest to chest. until he's practically drawn her into his lap.

he doesn't want to stop kissing her. this was what they should be doing, he thinks vaguely, two teens, alone in a bedroom. this is what he's wanted to be doing. the thing he'd thought about during the nights they'd spent discussing plants and their meanings. the lips he'd thought about in the woods and when he'd stolen glances across the lunchroom at school, and that he'd found his eyes drawn to when she smiled at him across the counter while they'd trade.

his focus is able to shift away from their friends out west, more than likely on their last days. and any thoughts of her folks and her sister, hopefully asleep down the hall, leave him entirely.

but it doesn't stop his heart from pounding. adrenaline that they could get caught or from the shared kisses courses through him.

the pressing need to draw in a deeper breath claws at him, but he doesn't want to part. doesn't want to step back into whoever they were before this moment. she tastes as sweet as she smells. sweeter than he could have imagined. his hand runs up her back, gently, and he untangles the limb to rest it on her other cheek, so that he's got her face cupped in his hands as gently as he'd carry a bird. a worry creeps in that he's coming on too strong, that he should slow down, but he doesn't feel her pull away. and draws her in closer instead.

[withereth-moved]

THEY'RE   TOO   YOUNG   FOR   SO   MUCH   RESPONSIBILITY   ,   but   without   it   ,   they   wouldn't   be   here   .   every   child   grows   up   too   quickly   in   twelve   ,   everyone   is   at   work   in   one   way   or   another   before   schooling   ends   ,   with   or   without   pay   .   but   they   ,   she   thinks   ,   have   taken   on   more   than   is   fair   .  she   can   make   nearly   every   recipe   in   the   family's   book   from   memory   ,   never   questioning   herself   on   the   medicinal   herbs   that   perfume   the   shop   beneath   them   .   and   burdock  ,  he   can   do   just   about   anything   .

each   time   he   finds   time   in   his   day   for   her   ,   she   beams   .   what   a   luxury   to   be   the   person   he   picks   for   these   quiet   evenings   ,   whatever   the   purpose   .   she   only   wants   to   provide   him   ease   ,   but   she's   hardly   able   .   all   she   can   do   is   shove   money   in   his   pockets   for   the   goodies   he   brings   ,   pushing   away   any   transactional   relationship   it   may   bring   to   their   personal   life   .   he   needs   the   money   ,   her   family   needs   the   herbs   ,   it   wouldn't   change   a   thing   if   he   delivered   them   to   someone   else   in   the   family   ,   so   why   not   a   friend   ?

maybe   more   ,   certainly   more   .   there   aren't   definitions   for   how   childhood   meets   adulthood   and   relationships   change   on   a   dime   ,   but   she   doesn't   mind   .   he's   here   ,   and   he's   so   close   that   she   hear   him   breathing   ,   that's   enough   .

being   so   direct   isn't   usually   her   style   .   she's   usually   all   giggles   and   batted   eyelashes   and   pink   cheeks   ,   but   the   intimacy   gives   her   wings   .   she   doesn't   expect   a   no   ,   but   her   heart   pounds   all   the   same   in   the   moment   of   waiting   ,   mind   emptying   of   everything   but   the   two   of   them   there   .

the   games   don't   exist   ,   her   future   doesn't   exist   ,   the   starvation   of   the   seam   doesn't   exist   ,   only   the   little   bubble   between   them   .

her   eyes   close   as   he   pulls   her   in   ,   lips   finding   his   in   the   emptiness   .   it's   new   ,   and   somehow   not   at   all   ,   like   she's   always   known   what   it   was   to   be   kissed   by   him   .   something   ancient   and   kind   and   eternal   and   warm   builds   in   her   while   her   hands   find   his   cheeks   ,   holding   him   like   he   might   just   disappear   .

she   lacks   the   shyness   that   likely   ought   to   color   the   moment   ,   showing   no   hesitance   in   her   willingness   to   meet   his   every   move   with   her   own   .   the   gentle   pressure   on   the   small   of   her   back   draws   her   in   ,   crawling   into   his   lap   with   a   knee   to   either   side   of   his   hips   .   for   a   moment   ,   she's   grateful   to   have   changed   out   of   her   day   dress   ,   glad   for   the   extra   layers   of   fabric   that   mean   this   is   all   okay   .   it's   not   too   serious   ,   even   if   she   can   feel   his   heart   beating   against   hers   .

an   arm   drapes   over   his   shoulders   ,   fingers   finding   purchase   in   his   dark   hair   .   she's   dreamed   of   this   hair   ,   beautiful   and   wild   as   it   was   ,   filled   with   twigs   and   leaves   from   the   woods   or   combed   and   neat   for   school   .   it   haunts   her   ,   and   he's   so   close   that   she   can   hardly   breathe   .   her   other   slides   down   ,   gripping   at   his   shirt   as   a   means   to   pull   him   closer   if   it   were   even   possible   .   there's   not   a   pocket   of   air   between   them   anywhere   that   she   can   ascertain   ,   but   it's   still   not   enough   .

a   sigh   escapes   her   ,   quiet   and   soft   .   her   mind   wanders   ,   just   far   enough   to   shock   her   back   into   reality   .   they're   not   living   out   some   dream   playing   house   ,   they're   kids   in   her   bedroom   ,   and   she   has   to   control   herself   .   she   slows   ,   the   needy   ,   desperate   kissing   replaced   quickly   by   something   slower   ,   sweeter   ,   and   then   nothing   .   asterid   pulls   back   ,   but   only   just   .

forehead   to   forehead   ,   unable   to   convince   herself   to   pull   away   in   any   other   meaningful   way   ,   still   pressed   to   him   like   a   vice   ,   she   opens   her   eyes   to   take   him   in   .   blurred   from   the   distance   ,   she   doesn't   think   he's   ever   been   so   beautiful   .   it   feels   like   a   crime   ,   but   she   makes   herself   speak   ,   the   whisper's   breath   shares   the   same   air   as   their   kiss   ,   even   if   it   takes   a   moment   to   compose   herself   while   she   catches   her   breath   and   comes   down   from   the   high   .   silently   ,   she   begs   him   to   please   ,   please   ,   please   not   let   go   of   her   .

❝   oh   shit   ,   where did you learn how to do that ?   ❞

[withereth-moved]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 has been passed the aux, what do they play ? list 5 - 10 songs & tag some friends to do the same !

01. one's on the way, loretta lynn and margo price. 02. delta dawn, tanya tucker. 03. she's in love with the boy, trisha yearwood. 04. lovesick blues, dolly, tammy, loretta, and patsy. 05. strawberry wine, deana carter. 06. harper valley pta, loretta lynn. 07. i heart ?, taylor swift. 08. 9 to 5, dolly parton. 09. you're the reason our kids are ugly, conway twitty and loretta lynn. 10. the corvette song, george jones.

tagged by : stolen!!! shamelessly! tagging : @crestalls @nightlockrebel @wormholxtreme @brdeverdeen @oddsfavorcd @towngirlreaped and you!

[crestallsa-deactivated20251024]

❝ thank you. ❞ thank you for trying. it’s a bit of a disingenuous one, because annie knows she’ll have no choice in the matter. victors never have any choice. ❝ though i doubt it’ll work even if we try. ❞

it’s not just a question of taking her unborn son away because she’s alone. it’s more than that, the politics of panem are involved.

❝ as soon as words gets out i’m having finnick’s child, heavensbee will be at my door with a whole list of propos planned. ❞ she can already imagine the headlines, her son nicknamed the hope of the nation or something. the capitol lost their darling, they’ll want to get his child back.

❝ the whole country still thinks i’m mad, they’ll declare me unfit easily and then raise him as finnick’s shadow. ❞ replacement, more like, but she can’t bring herself to say that word out loud. she can feel herself spiralling again, though the laundry helps a bit. she can focus on the repetitive moment, try not to look at the round shape of the scrub rolling on the board, let the water calm her down.

❝ ... i can’t tell them no. ❞ she can’t, she can’t, because they’ll target what’s left of her family instead. they’re not too different than snow in that regard — she can’t trust anyone in command ever again.

[withereth-moved]

SHE   GIVES   A   HALFHEARTED   SMILE   .   asterid   knows   as   well   as   anyone   what   it   is   to   lose   a   child   to   plutarch   heavensbee   .   really   ,   she's   lost   both   ,   at   least   so   far   as   it   matters   in   her   day-to-day   .   prim   ,   lost   for   good   ,   no   body   to   return   .   katniss   ,   lost   to   the   world   .   she   could   never   go   back   ,   at   least   not   for   a   very   long   time   .

❝   then   we'll   have'ta   try   our   best   ,   won't   we   ?   ❞   asterid   offers   .   being   alone   was   hardly   the   worst   crime   that   a   woman   could   commit   .   mad   ,   now   that   was   a   different   ball   game   .   she's   hardly   moved   for   months   ,   practically   rotted   into   her   bed   ,   very   nearly   starved   to   death   .   perhaps   they   should   have   been   taken   ,   but   the   district's   group   home   didn't   need   two   more   mouths   to   feed   .

thoughts   circle   through   on   the   situation   .   it   isn't   an   easy   one   ,   but   she   would   try   her   best   .   ❝   's   not   about   telling   them   no   ,   i   don't   think   .   more   to   do   with   proving   on   your   own   how   much   of   a   crime   it'd   be   to   separate   ya   .   the   country   loves   a   story   about   family   .   yours   especially   ...   i   remember   your   year   .   your   parents'   ,   too   .   we   all   talked   about   how   cruel   it   was   to   let   your   ma   go   in   with   a   babe   at   home   .   my   sister   had   her   boy   that   year   ,   just   about   made   me   sick   to   think   about   .   ❞

[brdeverdeen]

the urge to cross their porch swelled, but burdie couldn’t make himself do it. but he watches for a moment, trying to determine if she’s crying with the way she’s hidden her face. he straightens so he’s not leaning against the porch but won’t let himself go any further. he hates that he's upset her so much. hates that he's made her so angry because that hadn't been his intention. he hadn't thought that far ahead, to what asterid would think about all of it.

and he knew, deep in his bones, that she's right. the hanging tree and plenty of others were banned and meant trouble for anyone who uttered them.

that didn’t stop him from singing it to himself around the hob or town while trading.

something deep inside him wanted to be heard. there was no more public singing the way he’d done as a teen. the way lenore dove had done when she’d been arrested that final time. but cray and his peacekeepers hardly seemed to care what he sang while he walked about.

“it ain’t the same as when we were kids and you know it.” it’s a too-easy dismissal of her concerns. as when they were kids had only ended a handful of years ago. he’d been in his early twenties when head peacekeeper sulla retired at long last and cray took over. cray was far from an upstanding man himself, but the seam sighed in relief when he took over. released, at least, from one nightmare.

burdie disliked the man as much as anyone else but there was no denying he was easier to deal with. willing to buy game from him rather than demand it arrive at his door for free weekly. but he’d taught katniss to come to him immediately if cray tried to talk to her while they were at the hob, and would do the same with prim once she was old enough, because he was one who enjoyed the company of seam women who were down on their luck and he didn’t want either of his girls thinking they could be comfortable around him regardless of their how little they were. he wanted to send a clear and simple message: do not trust that man.

“they don’t go around whipping kids like they used to.” like sulla had done him all those years ago, hardly older than little katniss.

whippings still happened, just as hangings did, but far less frequently. maybe it had relaxed him too much. he’d started pushing his boundaries a little, had walked through town 6 months ago singing the same song while trading for fresh bread. otho had given him a questioning look but nothing more and his boy had trailed him for just a brief moment, little face intent and focused, like the mockingjays.

he sighed. “asterid, you and I both know it’ll be harder for them no matter what songs i’m teachin’ them.”

he remembers a time when he’d felt similar to her. afraid, maybe too strong a word. but fearful, certainly.

the memories felt hazy now, but he still remembered his pounding heart while he and haymitch dragged lenore dove away, scoffing and scolding her. talking her down because they all knew the only reason she’d never gone under the whip was because clerk carmine and tam amber would come to her rescue. Not many had that reassurance. even he’d been punished when he was young, even if he was given leeway for his hunting afterwards.

just the mention of burying their girls twists like a knife in his heart but it certainly hadn’t been enough to stop him.

“they watch the reapings every year just like the rest of us.” burdie paused before tentatively going further, voice calm and even but burgeoning with hurt. “they’ll be in those pens before we know it, too. that’s the bigger risk. not my songs.”

he’d become convinced that when lenore dove died she’d come back to haunt him in the form of a desperate want to make trouble. reminded him of their talks about souls and lingering spirits and what happened when a person died.

he’d sung it once in the woods and katniss hardly needed more than that to get it in her head. she was like asterid that way. she always asked about songs and he’d told her that one reminded him of his family. told himself that they’d talk about it more. and then she was singing it to the mockingjays who’d stopped to listen and he could hardly tell her no.

instead he’d told her the games were wrong. that there was no lesson to learn from such cruelty. no crime that they'd committed had earned this. he hadn’t warned her. hadn’t told her not to sing it when they were inside the fence.

he stood up a bit straight, walked to her, his hands at her elbows. not trying to pull her hands from her face, but offered his touch in comfort and in some sort of plea for understanding that he hardly had a grasp on himself.

“i ain’t tryin’ to bury our girls, but this place’ll bury us all one way or another.” he could see it in the faces around them starving, in a way people never had when he was a boy. in the sniffling children trying not to cry in the reaping pen, like animals being plucked for the slaughter. the brief fear in an animal's eye before he released an arrow. in the way he’d held Katniss tight during this last reaping, whispering gently in her ear to not to let them use her tears for their entertainment. to put on a brave face. what a horrible thing to ask of a little girl.

“if they don’t know these songs then they’re just gone.” just like so many other things. history and culture and loved ones wiped away. and for what? “people got short memories. it's good to try and hold onto what we can.” he stops, like there's more behind the words, but he doesn't offer them, can't seem to explain beyond that.

maybe he hadn’t wanted to. maybe he was a bad father for thinking it was okay that his seven year old know a song that could get her in the sort of trouble she could scarcely imagine. and then, before he can stop himself:

“maybe i'd rather they know it's better to hang together than separate.” and maybe it was something he wished everyone would know.

[withereth-moved]

HIS   COMMENT   EARNS   AN   HONEST   SCOFF   .   annoyance   ,   she   considers   the   merits   of   yelling   at   him   just   for   that   ,   but   decides   that   the   neighbors   hearing   is   enough   of   a   reason   not   to   .   no   one   would   care   ,   they   would   probably   agree   if   they   knew   ,   but   she   hated   the   thought   of   them   being   so   nosy   .

he's   right   ,   it   isn't   the   same   as   when   they   were   kids   ,   but   who's   to   say   it   won't   be   next   week   ?   undersee   replaced   allister   ,   cray   replaced   sulla   ,   and   the   tides   could   turn   again   at   any   point   for   any   reason   .   no   reason   to   put   a   bad   taste   in   the   mouth   of   those   in   charge   if   it   could   be   helped   ,   whether   or   not   it   meant   anything   in   the   long   run   .   ❝   if   it   ain't   the   same   as   when   we   were   kids   ,   then   fine   ,   but   there's   still   rules   .   ❞   asterid   snaps   .   her   voice   is   kept   low   ,   but   not   quite   calm   .   brimming   with   anxiety   ,   pitchy   and   nerve-wracked   .

she's   sure   it   isn't   fair   ,   but   emotions   so   rarely   are   .   ❝   i've   seen   too   many   whippings   to   care   if   they   happen   less   .   they're   still   happening   ,   ain't   they   ?   i   see   'em   enough   to   know   how   scared   we   should   be   .   ❞   she   doesn't   wish   it   on   her   worst   enemy   ,   the   task   she's   taken   on   for   nearly   half   her   life   .   she's   held   the   hands   of   too   many   dying   people   and   whispered   them   to   sleep   ,   gone   on   to   hug   too   many   grieving   spouses   and   kiss   too   many   children   ,   all   while   her   hands   still   have   blood   under   the   nails   .

burdie's   quest   ,   teaching   katniss   about   the   way   things   are   and   the   way   they   ought   to   be   ,   is   a   noble   one   .   she'd   never   deny   it   ,   she'd   been   just   as   transfixed   by   the   song   who   knows   how   many   years   ago   .   but   that   was   different   .   she   was   older   ,   so   was   he   ,   they   knew   the   gravity   of   the   rebellious   act   that   was   singing   what   wasn't   meant   to   be   heard   .

when   his   hands   touch   her   ,   she   fights   the   urge   to   flinch   away   .   asterid   isn't   crying   –   she's   too   mad   to   think   ,   too   scared   to   give   into   natural   urges   .   instead   ,   she   spreads   her   fingers   just   enough   to   open   her   eyes   and   look   at   him   .   blue   into   gray   ,   the   perfect   matches   to   the   children   inside   curled   up   on   the   bed   .

it's   hard   to   stay   mad   at   him   ,   but   she   finds   a   way   .

❝   you've   never   known   how   to   tell   time   and   place   ,   ❞   a   whisper   of   an   accusation   ,   but   maybe   not   entirely   unfounded   .   she   pauses   to   sigh   heavily   into   her   hands   ,   running   them   down   her   face   as   her   arms   drop   to   her   side   .   an   old   habit   ,   she   shakes   her   shoulders   clean   of   the   tension   ,   squeezing   her   hands   into   fists   and   releasing   them   again   and   again   .

anger   is   an   unknown   feeling   in   the   grand   scheme   of   things   .   asterid   doesn't   know   what   to   do   with   it   ,   settling   into   her   bones   and   into   the   tightness   of   her   clenched   jaw   .   she's   never   been   the   type   to   struggle   with   the   emotion   ,   more   prone   to   deep   sadnesses   or   optimism   bordering   on   foolishness   in   trying   times   ,   but   it   plagues   her   now   .   she   puts   her   foot   down   on   the   matter   ,   trying   to   hold   a   brave   face   ,   one   that   means   business   .

❝   if   i   hear   that   song   out   of   either   of   their   mouths   again   ,   it   won’t   be   the   gallows   that   you   need   to   worry   about   .   it’ll   be   me   .   ❞

she'd   never   raised   a   hand   out   of   anger   to   a   single   soul   ,   save   maybe   the   silly   scraps   of   girlhood   with   her   sister   ,   and   those   could   hardly   count   .   if   she   was   the   hitting   type   ,   he'd   have   been   smacked   more   than   once   over   the   years   ,   but   she   isn't   ,   so   she   wraps   her   arms   tightly   around   her   middle   and   squeezes   .   how   does   one   hold   themselves   together   when   the   world   feels   like   it's   falling   apart   ?

fighting   is   stupid   .   there's   nothing   she   wants   more   than   to   be   wrapped   up   in   him   and   be   told   it'll   all   be   okay   ,   but   it   wouldn't   be   true   .   he   wouldn't   tell   her   what   he   doesn't   mean   ,   and   she   wouldn't   ask   it   of   him   .   but   who   else   could   fix   this   ?   the   fire   and   brimstone   is   gone   from   her   voice   ,   adrenaline   drained   from   her   system   .   it's   been   a   long   day   ,   she's   exhausted   ,   but   her   stubborn   streak   will   bring   her   down   some   day   .

❝   do   i   make   myself   clear   ?   ❞

[1dramaprincess]

🩵

[seraphinesaintclair]

Madison Julius Cawein, “Nocturne”

[brdeverdeen]

he puts an arm around her shoulder, pulls her in closer against him, and rests his head against hers. hard for his keen eye to not catch the quiver of her lip. or the way she tried to hide it. “quit bein’ so hard on yourself,” he murmurs against her ear. it's an almost but not quite kiss. an excuse to be close, though they hardly needed reason to hold each other anymore. their talks shifted this way with ease once they'd realized the weight of the grief the other held. holding each other seemed better than carrying it all alone.

“‘sides, you’re plenty brave,” he insists. not many in twelve had resources to give away, the few that did clung tight. let alone a town girl, sneaking away into the big and scary seam to help the injured, against her folks’ wishes. “you're just one person. can't stop everybody from dyin' no more than i can keep 'em all fed.”

burdie pauses, digests his own words. he'd found it impossible to untangle dying and death from his thoughts of haymitch. and then the rest of the tributes from twelve. and then all forty-eight of the tributes all together. he looks away, pulls away from asterid, but only briefly. the pain of losing haymitch, long and stretched out, publicly, hurts, but being close like this, with her, helped. having someone who understood.

“can't stop anybody from dyin'. not really, anyway.” and this time he kisses her temple, soft, and maybe a little too quick. “but you keep managin' to save people, so they get more of their life with family and friends.”

he understood what she meant. he wanted to do more too. it was hard not to admire asterid for all she did. hard not to fall for someone so selfless and kind and stubborn.

 “i'll bring you what I can,” he offered. if he'd known she was using so much of the supplies from her family shop he would have offered to keep a secret stash for her at his place. would have told her to keep the plants and herbs he brought in and to not give him anything for them ages ago. it hadn't really crossed his mind that she'd been stealing what she needed.

coming into the apothecary a few years ago, burdie'd only been hoping to earn a bit more. the people at the hob didn't have much use for what he'd been finding but now, with asterid in his arms, the money didn't matter. but keeping her out of trouble meant she could keep helping people. meant it was easier for him to sneak into her room after supper. he'd find a way to make do with a little less. “keep you stocked up. bet he won't even notice anything disappearin' if we work together.”

however, he doesn't have much of a remedy for her sneaking out. it's nothing something he dared to stop her from, her skills were to useful and the people of the seam needed her, whether they wanted to admit it or not. but if her folks knew how often she went out to help or that he'd been coming in through her bedroom almost nightly since a few days after the reaping they'd probably never let her out of their sight again.

not for a while anyway. and he'd probably get his hide tanned too, if not by her father than surely by somebody else.

he sits up just a little and turns towards her. “when i go out tomorrow i'll look for whatever you need.” one hand lets go of hers and he brushes a bit of hair behind her ear. “no tradin', okay?” he had a feeling she wouldn't like that one, but he tries to smile for her anyway. smiles felt harder to give now than they ever had. “you can just throw in a piece of candy like when i first started bringin' you stuff.”

[withereth-moved]

SHE   LEANS   INTO   HIM   ON   PURE   INSTINCT   .   to   have   known   him   for   so   long   ,   if   only   on   the   periphery   ,   she   scares   herself   with   how   quickly   she's   fallen   so   deeply   .   the   weight   of   his   arm   around   her   and   warmth   of   his   skin   through   his   clothes   sets   her   at   ease   .   she   could   cry   at   the   little   comfort   ,   they   seemed   so   few   and   far   between   these   days   .   but   ever   the   proper   lady   ,   she   keeps   the   urge   restrained   .   best   to   focus   on   his   breath   at   her   ear   .

it   shouldn't   make   her   feel   better   ,   but   it   does   ,   hearing   him   sing   his   praises   at   her   .   golden   child   ,   heir   to   the   family   business   ,   scholar   ,   she   has   spent   her   life   seeking   out   the   silly,   meaningless   accolades   .   now   ,   it   feels   dumb   .   she   should   be   braver   ,   it   feels   wrong   to   complain   about   the   stakes   at   all   .   ❝   i   just   want'a   do   more   ,   ❞   she   mirrors   her   previous   sentiment   ,   letting   out   a   long   ,   slow   breath   .   she's   stabilized   herself   ,   no   use   getting   upset   over   things   she   can't   control   ,   at   least   not   while   he's   here   to   see   it   .

when   he   pulls   back   ,   she   nearly   panics   .   girlish   grief   setting   in   ,   had   she   done   something   ?   her   mind   knows   the   truth   ,   the   nights   are   long   and   lonely   with   the   knowledge   of   who   is   gone   .   she   makes   do   with   the   company   of   her   little   rendezvous   .   new   ,   not   unwelcome   ,   but   unfamiliar   in   so   close   a   context   .   but   then   he's   back   ,   her   world   quiets   .

burdie   was   right   ,   though   ,   her   face   scrunches   at   the   offer   .   he   had   to   know   that   she   would   abhor   the   very   thought   of   taking   from   him   without   giving   back   .   if   it   were   as   simple   as   that   ,   he   wouldn't   have   traded   to   begin   with   .

❝   don't   say   that   ,   ❞   she   chastised   ,   ❝   you   need   the   money   ,   and   don't   say   you   don't   ,   'cause   i'm   not   an   idiot   .   ❞

no   use   in   pretending   ,   she   figures   .   she'll   have   to   find   a   solution   .   ❝   i'll   dip   into   my   savings   ,   ❞   it's   almost   embarrassing   to   say   it   so   casually   ,   she   knows   it's   a   luxury   so   few   have   .   ❝   i   almost   never   spend   my   pocket   money   ,   i   can   balance   the   till   with   it   ,   make   it   less   noticeable   .   ❞

she   knows   that   he   means   it   kindly   ,   but   even   the   mention   of   the   candy   sends   a   dagger   through   her   .   she's   been   a   horrible   friend   ,   unable   to   so   much   as   cross   the   threshold   of   the   sweet   shop   to   see   the   donners   .   asterid   thinks   that   if   she   sees   MERRILEE   ,   she   might   lose   her   stomach   on   the   spot   ,   the   very   thought   is   enough   to   make   her   sick   with   guilt   .   instead   of   dwelling   ,   she   pivots   hard   .

one   fluid   motion   and   she   sits   on   her   knees   ,   still   facing   him   ,   if   more   directly   now   .   closer   still   ,   putting   on   her   best   impression   of   someone   who   hadn't   experienced   every   emotion   on   the   planet   in   the   whirlwind   since   the   games   .   better   yet   ,   she   just   wants   to   look   feel   like   a   teenage   girl   who's   slipped   some   boy   into   her   bedroom   ,   overcome   with   want   and   nothing   more   .   something   normal   to   distract   from   every   awful   thing   they   seem   determined   to   come   across   .   ❝   can   i   kiss   you   ?   ❞

[withereth-moved]

@crestalls | mostly plotted

HE   IS   SHAMELESS   .   it   comes   with   the   territory   of   having   enough   friends   to   try   anything   and   not   enough   who   say   no   when   he   goes   too   far   .   it's   accidental   when   he   sees   annie   leaving   the   massive   psychology   lecture   that   they   share   ,   speed   walking   to   catch   up   .   he's   seen   her   everywhere.   sitting   at   the   student   union   ,   walking   through   campus   ,   eating   at   the   cafeteria   ,   plenty   of   places   .   enough   that   he   has   worked   himself   up   to   go   chat   .

❝   hey   ,   annie   ,   right   ?   ❞   he   asks   as   he   approaches   ,   hoping   to   have   not   have   disturbed   her   too   badly   .   she   didn't   look   to   be   in   a   rush   ,   or   at   least   not   running   to   catch   another   class   in   five   minutes   .

it   occurs   to   him   then   that   he   didn't   quite   have   a   good   reason   to   stop   her   beyond   general   curiosity   ,   but   he   found   that   people   didn't   tend   to   mind   too   much   .   still   ,   he   gets   the   feeling   that   she   may   not   be   as   easily   amused   by   his   usual   tactics   ,   at   least   not   dead   sober   in   broad   daylight.   think   .   he   comes   up   blank   .   ❝   i'm   finn   ,   i   don't   think   we've   met   before   .   ❞

[withereth-moved]

@nightlockrebel —

AS   I   WRITE   THIS   ,   IT'S   YOUR   SISTER'S   BIRTHDAY   .   i   imagine   it’ll   take   a   few   more   days   to   reach   you   ,   so   i’ll   start   off   by   saying   that   i   hope   you’re   okay   .   on   days   like   this   ,   i   don’t   know   what   to   do   without   myself   ,   but   my   mind   is   often   occupied   with   thoughts   of   you   .   today   ,   i   think   about   the   moment   that   you   met   your   sister   .   i’m   sure   you   were   too   young   to   remember   ,   little   thing   that   you   were   .   when   burdie   went   to   go   fetch   you   from   the   neighbor’s   ,   you   were   as   calm   as   day   meeting   her   .   you   crawled   right   up   in   bed   with   me   and   kissed   her   like   it   was   the   most   natural   thing   in   the   world   ,   meanwhile   i   was   afraid   you’d   hate   her   something   fierce   .

you   have   the   courage   that   i   wanted   ,   something   that   was   always   in   your   pa   .   he   would   be   so   proud   of   you   ,   we   always   knew   you   were   something   special   .

i’ve   been   considering   coming   back   to   twelve   .   for   the   first   time   ,   i’m   ready   to   face   my   ghosts   .   however   ,   if   you   would   rather   me   stay   away   ,   i   will   .   i   know   i’ve   not   always   taken   care   of   you   in   the   ways   a   mother   should   ,   and   i   won’t   expect   your   welcome   now   .   no   use   rewriting   the   past   .   i’d   like   to   be   there   for   you   in   any   way   you’ll   have   me   .   maybe   one   day   we   can   be   more   than   strangers   again   .

        —   ASTERID