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Changed Cissa's age because I forgot she was supposed to be in 7th year. Derp.
No problem at all!
The archway was soon empty once more, and Prim felt her cheeks heat up with a mixture of embarrassment and shame. It was true that she hadn't thought to go after her older sister, but it wasn't due to a lack of concern, but rather, a loss of what to say. Words weren't going to help Katniss forget that she was going back into the arena so soon after getting out, and promises of being okay wouldn't comfort the dark-haired girl now that Snow had violated the longstanding rules of the Hunger Games. The blonde knew that she could have been a shoulder to cry on, a presence of comfort and a tangible sense of calm before the storm, but that Prim felt that should be done behind closed doors. Katniss was her rock, and Prim wanted to comfort her in her own way, whether Haymitch Abernathy approved or not.
Swallowing hard, Prim did her best to get herself together and focus on one thing at a time. Her mind was racing with thoughts of Katniss never coming home, with Snow winning again, and then there was the issue of Peeta and Haymitch. One of them would have to go back into the Games as well, and neither were exactly spry and healthy considering Peeta's leg and Haymitch's affinity with alcohol. Katniss would have no allies this time.
Gale's words put a stop to her depressing thoughts and a look of shock crossed her delicate features. “You can't be serious,” she said, sounding outraged. Volunteering hadn't crossed her mind, mostly because someone needed to be there for Mrs. Everdeen, but Prim knew that she wouldn't last a minute in the Games, especially not when the number of tributes would be doubled and the field would be flooded with the vicious Victors of the past. “Gale...why would you volunteer? What about your family and everyone who depends on you?” That was a horrible idea, and Prim couldn't let him make it a reality. “The Capitol isn't going to let more than one person come home this time. They won't make that mistake again. Just...think of what you're saying.”
It was cold outside. Haymitch could already feel his fingers starting to tingle in the winter wind, and the tip of his nose and cheeks had already gone a little red, but it was easy to ignore. He had half a bottle of liquor left and that was sure to warm him up at some point. Knowing Katniss, he was sure to be out there for a while.
When the dark-haired girl began to calm down, Haymitch was left unmoved and unsurprised by her words. Katniss Everdeen never worried about herself, she was too busy taking care of everyone else—whether it was her sister, or her mother, or the put upon people around the Seam, and even Peeta during the Games, she never gave a second thought to herself. “Someone has to worry about you,” he mentioned flatly, his tone not exactly conveying that that person was him. He tipped the bottle back to his lips, taking a long drink and enjoying the strong burn that came with it.
Haymitch didn't want to acknowledge the announcement yet, or even let it sink in that he was more than likely going to be going back to the arena decades later. It wasn't fair to recall Victors when they had already done their time, and already suffered great physical and psychological damage. Why he thought the Capitol would ever keep its word on anything was beyond him, but Haymitch didn't have the stomach to think on the situation directly as of yet. However, the only thing he was sure of was Peeta. The boy with the bread wouldn't last this time around, not with that leg of his. By some cruel joke of the universe, he was more able bodied than Peeta Mellark and Haymitch knew that Katniss knew as well.
The year before, his role as mentor had been to protect the two kids from District 12, do what he could to help them win. He may not have been the most compassionate man around, but that sense of responsibility had never left him. After years of watching tributes from his home get slaughtered, it had been easy for him to grow attached to the two had managed to save their necks and Haymitch wanted, perhaps more than anything, for them to stay safe.
“You got away before,” Haymitch shrugged, “we can get you again.” He took another drink from the bottle, the cold starting to creep back into him. He looked over at Katniss, the darkness concealing the concern that he couldn't keep from his eyes. “Snow's got nothing to do with this.” Defying the Capitol was possible, and Haymitch knew that Panem would be angry about the new rules and the notion that no one was ever going to be safe. Past Victors had become like family to those people, household names and brands all their own. No ordinary citizen would want to see them killed.
The kitchen was starting to feel too small, and Prim was itching for an excuse to get away from Gale and his bad ideas. “She's not going to let you volunteer,” the blonde told him, although she was sure that he already knew that. “She won't let any of us volunteer.” If any of them tried, Prim was sure that Katniss would never forgive them. She had worked so hard to keep everyone safe, and volunteering to be killed was a slap in the face; she didn't deserve that, and she didn't deserve to be forced to return herself. Presently, the best idea to beat this was to run away.
“I should clean up in the other room,” Prim said aloud. “I hope you've forgotten about volunteering by the time I come back.” She disappeared from view then, entering the living room to collect the shards of shattered glass from the floor.
Katniss's request hit Haymitch like a ton of bricks. While he had already decided to volunteer in Peeta's place, hearing ask made it so much more real. He was well past drunk at this point, but his mind still had moments of clarity, and Katniss asking him to volunteer without actually saying the words was sobering. “Way ahead of you,” he said, downing another drink from the bottle. “He's not gonna like it much, you know,” he pointed out, knowing Peeta didn't want to be treated like he was useless, “but you can break it to him.” If anything, Peeta was going to volunteer anyway, and Haymitch could easily step in. This wasn't something that was going to be negotiated with the boy, but it was probably best that he know ahead of time. Being a mentor wasn't easy, and charismatic and friendly as he was, Peeta had his work cut out for him.
Swallowing hard, Prim did her best to get herself together and focus on one thing at a time. Her mind was racing with thoughts of Katniss never coming home, with Snow winning again, and then there was the issue of Peeta and Haymitch. One of them would have to go back into the Games as well, and neither were exactly spry and healthy considering Peeta's leg and Haymitch's affinity with alcohol. Katniss would have no allies this time.
Gale's words put a stop to her depressing thoughts and a look of shock crossed her delicate features. “You can't be serious,” she said, sounding outraged. Volunteering hadn't crossed her mind, mostly because someone needed to be there for Mrs. Everdeen, but Prim knew that she wouldn't last a minute in the Games, especially not when the number of tributes would be doubled and the field would be flooded with the vicious Victors of the past. “Gale...why would you volunteer? What about your family and everyone who depends on you?” That was a horrible idea, and Prim couldn't let him make it a reality. “The Capitol isn't going to let more than one person come home this time. They won't make that mistake again. Just...think of what you're saying.”
It was cold outside. Haymitch could already feel his fingers starting to tingle in the winter wind, and the tip of his nose and cheeks had already gone a little red, but it was easy to ignore. He had half a bottle of liquor left and that was sure to warm him up at some point. Knowing Katniss, he was sure to be out there for a while.
When the dark-haired girl began to calm down, Haymitch was left unmoved and unsurprised by her words. Katniss Everdeen never worried about herself, she was too busy taking care of everyone else—whether it was her sister, or her mother, or the put upon people around the Seam, and even Peeta during the Games, she never gave a second thought to herself. “Someone has to worry about you,” he mentioned flatly, his tone not exactly conveying that that person was him. He tipped the bottle back to his lips, taking a long drink and enjoying the strong burn that came with it.
Haymitch didn't want to acknowledge the announcement yet, or even let it sink in that he was more than likely going to be going back to the arena decades later. It wasn't fair to recall Victors when they had already done their time, and already suffered great physical and psychological damage. Why he thought the Capitol would ever keep its word on anything was beyond him, but Haymitch didn't have the stomach to think on the situation directly as of yet. However, the only thing he was sure of was Peeta. The boy with the bread wouldn't last this time around, not with that leg of his. By some cruel joke of the universe, he was more able bodied than Peeta Mellark and Haymitch knew that Katniss knew as well.
The year before, his role as mentor had been to protect the two kids from District 12, do what he could to help them win. He may not have been the most compassionate man around, but that sense of responsibility had never left him. After years of watching tributes from his home get slaughtered, it had been easy for him to grow attached to the two had managed to save their necks and Haymitch wanted, perhaps more than anything, for them to stay safe.
“You got away before,” Haymitch shrugged, “we can get you again.” He took another drink from the bottle, the cold starting to creep back into him. He looked over at Katniss, the darkness concealing the concern that he couldn't keep from his eyes. “Snow's got nothing to do with this.” Defying the Capitol was possible, and Haymitch knew that Panem would be angry about the new rules and the notion that no one was ever going to be safe. Past Victors had become like family to those people, household names and brands all their own. No ordinary citizen would want to see them killed.
The kitchen was starting to feel too small, and Prim was itching for an excuse to get away from Gale and his bad ideas. “She's not going to let you volunteer,” the blonde told him, although she was sure that he already knew that. “She won't let any of us volunteer.” If any of them tried, Prim was sure that Katniss would never forgive them. She had worked so hard to keep everyone safe, and volunteering to be killed was a slap in the face; she didn't deserve that, and she didn't deserve to be forced to return herself. Presently, the best idea to beat this was to run away.
“I should clean up in the other room,” Prim said aloud. “I hope you've forgotten about volunteering by the time I come back.” She disappeared from view then, entering the living room to collect the shards of shattered glass from the floor.
Katniss's request hit Haymitch like a ton of bricks. While he had already decided to volunteer in Peeta's place, hearing ask made it so much more real. He was well past drunk at this point, but his mind still had moments of clarity, and Katniss asking him to volunteer without actually saying the words was sobering. “Way ahead of you,” he said, downing another drink from the bottle. “He's not gonna like it much, you know,” he pointed out, knowing Peeta didn't want to be treated like he was useless, “but you can break it to him.” If anything, Peeta was going to volunteer anyway, and Haymitch could easily step in. This wasn't something that was going to be negotiated with the boy, but it was probably best that he know ahead of time. Being a mentor wasn't easy, and charismatic and friendly as he was, Peeta had his work cut out for him.
Name: Narcissa Black
Age: 17
History: (We already discussed this and her personality, but I'll write them in if you want!)
I wasn't sure if Mrs. Cassidy was NPC, so I didn't write anything for her. If she is and you need me to add, just let me know!
James wasn't the type to be easily intimidated, and although he was nervous, he wasn't afraid of what he was about to experience. Medical school had prepared him a great deal for what it was like in a real hospital, and with how expensive the program had been, the blond man assumed it was worth it. Besides, be was a people person, outwardly friendly and easy-going; day one would be a breeze.
After waving goodbye to doctor Morris, James walked over to the shiny, stainless steel elevators and pressed the call button. He tapped his foot while he waited, and wrestled with his suddenly tangled headphones before stowing them in his bag. Soon, the doors parted and out walked a myriad of people covered in a rainbow of colors, from white coats, to pink scrubs, and everything in between. He offered a polite smile to those who caught his eye and boarded the elevator upon their exit, pressing another button to get to the basement where orientation was being held. Digging into his pocket, James pulled out a piece of crumbled, and over folded paper—it had all of the appropriate information on it along with a few numbers and names of people he thought might be important. Before enrolling in the program, James had done his research and he liked to know who was who.
Orientation was standard, but informative and James listened to everything that was said, took a few notes, got his scrubs and a locker and was then sent on his way. He was a bit surprised by how quickly everything had gone, but that didn't rattle him. He was assigned to a floor with a group of other residents, and James got to chatting with them on the way up. The floor was supposedly special, where the patients were top priority and the blond almost-doctor had originally thought it to be a cancer floor, or perhaps pediatrics, but after a quick look at the charts, most of them were seniors. It seemed a bit odd to be assigned to such a place for the day, but James should have known not to expect much action so soon.
The hallways were quiet as James made his way down to Mrs. Cassidy's room, flipping through her chart as he went. It was easy to see from the many pages and the added on notes from previous doctors and nurses that the woman had heart failure, and was awaiting a transplant. “Easy enough,” he said to himself, flipping over another page to see the doctor he would be working alongside that day. The answer made him laugh aloud, and he couldn't help but grin. It was a small world, indeed.
James entered the room and laid eyes on Gabriel Morris for the second time that day, and saw that he was already tending to Mrs. Cassidy. Once upon a time, she had been a beautiful woman, but age and disease had caught up to her and now she was lying quietly, withering away. “Good morning,” he announced himself, “I'm James, I'll be helping out doctor Morris today.”
Professional, always professional.
After waving goodbye to doctor Morris, James walked over to the shiny, stainless steel elevators and pressed the call button. He tapped his foot while he waited, and wrestled with his suddenly tangled headphones before stowing them in his bag. Soon, the doors parted and out walked a myriad of people covered in a rainbow of colors, from white coats, to pink scrubs, and everything in between. He offered a polite smile to those who caught his eye and boarded the elevator upon their exit, pressing another button to get to the basement where orientation was being held. Digging into his pocket, James pulled out a piece of crumbled, and over folded paper—it had all of the appropriate information on it along with a few numbers and names of people he thought might be important. Before enrolling in the program, James had done his research and he liked to know who was who.
Orientation was standard, but informative and James listened to everything that was said, took a few notes, got his scrubs and a locker and was then sent on his way. He was a bit surprised by how quickly everything had gone, but that didn't rattle him. He was assigned to a floor with a group of other residents, and James got to chatting with them on the way up. The floor was supposedly special, where the patients were top priority and the blond almost-doctor had originally thought it to be a cancer floor, or perhaps pediatrics, but after a quick look at the charts, most of them were seniors. It seemed a bit odd to be assigned to such a place for the day, but James should have known not to expect much action so soon.
The hallways were quiet as James made his way down to Mrs. Cassidy's room, flipping through her chart as he went. It was easy to see from the many pages and the added on notes from previous doctors and nurses that the woman had heart failure, and was awaiting a transplant. “Easy enough,” he said to himself, flipping over another page to see the doctor he would be working alongside that day. The answer made him laugh aloud, and he couldn't help but grin. It was a small world, indeed.
James entered the room and laid eyes on Gabriel Morris for the second time that day, and saw that he was already tending to Mrs. Cassidy. Once upon a time, she had been a beautiful woman, but age and disease had caught up to her and now she was lying quietly, withering away. “Good morning,” he announced himself, “I'm James, I'll be helping out doctor Morris today.”
Professional, always professional.
The road was visible every few yards where gaps between the many trees gave way to a small stretch of empty pavement. Allison didn't understand why Torsten wouldn't want to walk alongside that, rather than slowly make their way through the forest. The doctor wasn't cut out for this type of environment, and knowing that forty more miles lay ahead of them was daunting when she realized that she herself was the reason they were moving so slowly. Her running shoes offered little sturdiness on the uneven forest floor, where dips in the landscape were covered by fallen branches and other bits of natural debris. In the short time they had been walking, Allison had already grown envious of Torsten's strides, confident and easy while she stumbled along behind him.
For the life of her, Allison couldn't imagine what could have happened in Portland. As far as she knew, the city was safe and peaceful, just waiting for her to arrive. Although she thought it would have been faster, Allison didn't think that she was in much of a position to complain since Torsten was continuing to be so generous with her. Had the roles been reversed, she highly doubted that she would have personally walked some stranger into the city. Besides, continuing the hike was a guaranteed way not to worry herself half to death over what could be happening below the mountain, or rather, who they were keeping their distance from.
The next few hours were slow, but the pair made progress and soon, the woods began to thin out. Allison didn't know what she was looking for, and she thought the sights of the open fields and small town in the distance seemed quaint. Truthfully, the dark-haired woman was looking forward to a break from walking, her feet already somewhat sore from her improper shoes and her legs hadn't been worked this hard in years. Before she could mention taking an extended break, Torsten had his hand out, and a serious expression on his face that caused Allison to worry at her lower lip. He had been laughing and joking for the majority of their hike and the sudden change in attitude was cause for much concern.
“Maybe they're resting,” she proposed, not understanding that the Amish weren't the type to take a break. “Or--” Allison stopped herself, listening to Torsten's frenzied warning. “Wait, what? Run where? What's wrong?” She didn't know where she was supposed to go, or who she was running from. Everything seemed normal enough, and she wondered if the Finn's time in the army had made him unnecessarily paranoid.
Looking to the settlement in the distance and back to Torsten, Allison shook her head. “I'm not going anywhere by myself,” she decided, “I'll go with you and you'll see that everything is fine.” It would have sounded convincing if not for her own apprehension and tendency to trust this man who was merely a stranger the day before.
For the life of her, Allison couldn't imagine what could have happened in Portland. As far as she knew, the city was safe and peaceful, just waiting for her to arrive. Although she thought it would have been faster, Allison didn't think that she was in much of a position to complain since Torsten was continuing to be so generous with her. Had the roles been reversed, she highly doubted that she would have personally walked some stranger into the city. Besides, continuing the hike was a guaranteed way not to worry herself half to death over what could be happening below the mountain, or rather, who they were keeping their distance from.
The next few hours were slow, but the pair made progress and soon, the woods began to thin out. Allison didn't know what she was looking for, and she thought the sights of the open fields and small town in the distance seemed quaint. Truthfully, the dark-haired woman was looking forward to a break from walking, her feet already somewhat sore from her improper shoes and her legs hadn't been worked this hard in years. Before she could mention taking an extended break, Torsten had his hand out, and a serious expression on his face that caused Allison to worry at her lower lip. He had been laughing and joking for the majority of their hike and the sudden change in attitude was cause for much concern.
“Maybe they're resting,” she proposed, not understanding that the Amish weren't the type to take a break. “Or--” Allison stopped herself, listening to Torsten's frenzied warning. “Wait, what? Run where? What's wrong?” She didn't know where she was supposed to go, or who she was running from. Everything seemed normal enough, and she wondered if the Finn's time in the army had made him unnecessarily paranoid.
Looking to the settlement in the distance and back to Torsten, Allison shook her head. “I'm not going anywhere by myself,” she decided, “I'll go with you and you'll see that everything is fine.” It would have sounded convincing if not for her own apprehension and tendency to trust this man who was merely a stranger the day before.
Bump!
Looking for one (possibly two) new thread right now!
Looking for one (possibly two) new thread right now!
Charlotte quirked an eyebrow in return, “the girl likes blueberry pancakes.” She knew what Noah must have thought of her, and she definitely did look like one of those women who only ate salads when they went out, and then spent the entire next day at the gym to work off the calories. In truth, she wasn't that obsessed with herself, but she did exercise. Every morning, just before the sun came up, and through every season, Charlotte went jogging. It was about calming down for her, quieting her mind and sorting through her issues, a way to organize herself before the day began. The health benefits were an added bonus, but she wasn't picky enough to think that pancakes were going to throw her entire body off.
She continued to fiddle with her silverware as Noah spoke, listening and keeping her hands busy at the same time. It was a habit that she had had for ages, something that was picked up when she was young, and anxious about speaking to people. At first, it was her hair she would fool with, then whatever was near by. As an adult, she was doing her best to break it, but being around Noah brought out that old anxiousness in the best way, and Charlotte couldn't deny that she wanted to keep pushing this with him. It was going to be fun if he was thinking the same thing.
“You don't seem too bad,” Charlotte teased with a smile. Noah sounded like any other guy, he just looked different on the outside and lived in a town that had more to do in it than Beverly. These were simple observations, but the dark-haired young woman often waxed romantic, and anything could be viewed with rose-colored glasses. “That's what you do with your free time then?” she asked, “skip the gym and party?”
She continued to fiddle with her silverware as Noah spoke, listening and keeping her hands busy at the same time. It was a habit that she had had for ages, something that was picked up when she was young, and anxious about speaking to people. At first, it was her hair she would fool with, then whatever was near by. As an adult, she was doing her best to break it, but being around Noah brought out that old anxiousness in the best way, and Charlotte couldn't deny that she wanted to keep pushing this with him. It was going to be fun if he was thinking the same thing.
“You don't seem too bad,” Charlotte teased with a smile. Noah sounded like any other guy, he just looked different on the outside and lived in a town that had more to do in it than Beverly. These were simple observations, but the dark-haired young woman often waxed romantic, and anything could be viewed with rose-colored glasses. “That's what you do with your free time then?” she asked, “skip the gym and party?”
Holding a grudge was not something that Teddy was accustomed to. In the past, his schoolmates had said awful things to him, his friends had acted like tossers on occasion and the formerly blue-haired young man had let it roll off of him like it was nothing. It was unfortunately different with Victoire, and Teddy didn't like knowing that she still meant enough to rattle him, that he still hadn't let everything go and managed to move on. He had dated other girls since her, and when the relationships came to an end, he barely thought of them. Why couldn't Victoire be the same? Why did he still want to comfort when she was babbling uncomfortably in front of him?
A frown creased his brow at her words, her statements sounded forced, and fake. “You're sure I'm brilliant but you've never even--” he snapped, stopping himself before he could go on. This wasn't the place for this, nor the time and Teddy was determined not to spoil the whole evening for Harry and Ginny, and the rest of the family when everyone had previously been having such a good time. It was better to leave, just turn his back, walk away and forget all of this; forget her.
Behind them, more Weasley's and Potter's began to gather conspicuously around the opening of the tent, apparently more interested in the conversation than the free food and wine inside. James caught his eye and Teddy did his best to convey an irritated look, hoping that he would corral the others away and give he and Victoire a bit of privacy. However, Teddy was sure that was asking too much when everyone seemed to be so interested in either their reconciliation, or rather, the impending explosion.
When she asked him not to go, Teddy wondered why it mattered to her. If he was gone, she could have her family back, she would never have to worry about running into him again, or think that she had to stay away because sides had been chosen. It was as though Victoire was doing him a favor, as if she was conceding, letting him win and Teddy had to quell his anger once again. He wouldn't yell at her, not again, and he refused to make this worse than it needed to be.
“Please,” blue eyes rolling, he sighed, “they're your family. I didn't keep you from them, and I'm not standing in your way now.” He was leaving, though, unable to come up with a feasible reason to stay. “You belong here, not me. We don't have anything to discuss, so just...piss off.” Perhaps that was a bit more than what the situation called for, and Teddy could have just walked away, but he felt the petty need to try and hurt her.
A frown creased his brow at her words, her statements sounded forced, and fake. “You're sure I'm brilliant but you've never even--” he snapped, stopping himself before he could go on. This wasn't the place for this, nor the time and Teddy was determined not to spoil the whole evening for Harry and Ginny, and the rest of the family when everyone had previously been having such a good time. It was better to leave, just turn his back, walk away and forget all of this; forget her.
Behind them, more Weasley's and Potter's began to gather conspicuously around the opening of the tent, apparently more interested in the conversation than the free food and wine inside. James caught his eye and Teddy did his best to convey an irritated look, hoping that he would corral the others away and give he and Victoire a bit of privacy. However, Teddy was sure that was asking too much when everyone seemed to be so interested in either their reconciliation, or rather, the impending explosion.
When she asked him not to go, Teddy wondered why it mattered to her. If he was gone, she could have her family back, she would never have to worry about running into him again, or think that she had to stay away because sides had been chosen. It was as though Victoire was doing him a favor, as if she was conceding, letting him win and Teddy had to quell his anger once again. He wouldn't yell at her, not again, and he refused to make this worse than it needed to be.
“Please,” blue eyes rolling, he sighed, “they're your family. I didn't keep you from them, and I'm not standing in your way now.” He was leaving, though, unable to come up with a feasible reason to stay. “You belong here, not me. We don't have anything to discuss, so just...piss off.” Perhaps that was a bit more than what the situation called for, and Teddy could have just walked away, but he felt the petty need to try and hurt her.
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