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Appointments Post

A catch-all post made for threads that don't fit into any particular entry; if you use this, please put the date and the means of communicating in the subject line! I.E., 'August 1st [Written]'.

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I know of Katniss, I know Rue. Peeta apologized to me the morning after the misunderstanding with flowers and cookies- and offered to explain.

[Explain the details of an event she'd rather put from her mind. She's never experienced them but- Rue. The thought of Rue in an arena, forced to kill. The threat of death? Katniss, stern but solemn. Listening to her comfort Rue, and now she understands the why of it all the more. Peeta. Sincere, kind, terrified Peeta.

He'd said two survived. Of the three she knew...who had lived?]

I...I have a nephew his age. Listening to him explain was...

... Yeah. [He clears his throat, leaning back, remembering. Certain parts were so easy to remember.] I remember... most of the game they were involved in. And all of the Game I'd been a part of. What they do there - it's crazy. For over seventy years, they pulled that shit.

It's insane to think about.

... But it'll get better now, at least. Got awful, but now it'll get better.

[He carted around wood and debris for District 12. He was glad to do so.]

...

[He would know. She could ask. It might not be hers to hear- it might not be his to say. But she wants- needs to know.]

Rick.

[Voice low, thick. She's afraid to ask.

She asks anyway.]

The Game Peeta and Katniss were a part of. Peeta mentioned that there were two victors-

[Two survivors. Three of them in the village. And she's afraid she knows the answer.]

...Who won?

[He's quiet for a moment.

And he considers how to reply - because it's not his place to say. It's really not.]

... Over time, you won't need to ask.

[But you should always expect the saddest outcome, doctor. By now, he has.

But this isn't his story to tell, regardless.]

Of course... to most Victors, I'm sure there's no such thing as winning.

[Living, yes. Winning? Maybe to some poor kid trained to be a killing machine. But for the normal people... nothing is won. Not even their lives.]

...

[That was answer enough.

'Everyone hates that. When the twelve year olds get chosen.'

She can't. Talk. Not for a long moment. An addition to their little club. One she'd never wanted. It takes a slow steadying breath, or five, for her to even think straight past it. She didn't know Rue well. Just that she was young. Loves music. And that she was clever, curious, and sweet-

And. She was.]

Christ.

[She buries her face in her hands for a moment. Tries to breathe again. Manages it.]

...survive would have been a more appropriate word. There is. There is no victory in anything like enduring that.

[Could she really help Lupin find a way out, now? Knowing what she had to return to, that was one thing. She's made peace with it. But the children. What of them?]

Edited 2012-05-15 20:27 (UTC)

[He gives her a moment, calm himself. He's heard of and seen children dead more times than he'd like to admit; it doesn't mean he has to accept every case and let it go, but he knows it is something in life that will always happen. He's dragged corpses, and his comrades had dragged corpses, and the soldiers after him will drag corpses.

But little Rue... it was a fucking tragedy to know someone that young who is dead.

Adele wasn't as painful - they were the same age, had the same sort of bitter but dry way about it all, but Rue was a different sort of death altogether.]

Yeah. I guess 'survivor' wasn't as flashy a title for the Capitol.

[A beat. His gaze flicks up to the screen.]

You gonna' be okay?

...Fleur will be twelve in two weeks. She is...she is my younger brother's only child.

[And she can't help but think of her whenever she sees Rue. Entirely different girls in so many ways, but equally fragile. Infinity precious. Someone's child. Some other man's everything.

Adele swallows back thick, frustrated sentiments. Children fighting. Children dying. So much of what landed her in the compound, so much of what got her killed was knotted up around that detail. She was an idiot around children. Always has been. Always will be. It's frustrating on some level. One she cannot put much thought into, not now.]

I am fine. Really. Just. [She scrubs her face, shakes her head. Looks back up.]

I've never enjoyed burying children.

You're not the only one. [He admits softly, and remembers that they both have occupations where death is commonplace. He pauses to remember that his uncle's twins just recently turned 12 as well.]

We'll all take care of her here. Rule 2, right?

Rule 2.

[One last swipe at her eyes, wiping away tears that weren't tears. Just. Frustration. About where they were, a world she's never visited, the sheer, bloody mess that was this village and how helpless she is to change anything. It doesn't help. She pushes it back, sets it aside.]

Most of those that have met her are equally protective after not long. I know Archie's heart all but broke for her when she told him she'd never heard a piano before.

[A nod.]

She'll be good off here, doc. Lots of good people here who look out for everyone, especially the kids. She won't have to worry about having to deal with things like the Games, not with a hell of a lot of people on her side guns and swords at the ready.

That's just how this place is, right?

Edited 2012-05-17 10:54 (UTC)

It is.

[Calmer now- or better able to hide the frustration, she sits back. Offers Rick a wry half smile.]

We are ever able to protect our friends and neighbors. Not to mention I gave her my word she would not be forced into anything she didn't wish if it could be prevented. I can't very well break my promise to a child now, can I?

With Katniss and Peeta here to help keep her safe, as well, it should not be so difficult to see them protected.

Considering how it is now, they've at least got me keeping an eye out for them.

[It would be impossible for him to turn his back. Hell, even if he didn't know their story so damn well, he's always had a hard time with looking out for just him. No way. The Games never took that away from him, never would.]

Step one, tell Peeta to stab the things that actually go bump in the night, instead of the petite French doctors. Step two, try not to freak him out when I already know who he is.

[He clears his throat casually, flipping the page.]

This place is still fuckin' weird.

Katniss and I already spoke to him- he. Came by the next day and apologized after explaining his world to me with daises and cookies. The chocolate chips spelled out 'I'm sorry.' I believe he knows what he may and may not stab in the enclosure, now.

[She can't help but huff a laugh at the memory. At the time it had been bizarre but...sweet.]

Katniss and you are close still, yes? She may be able to explain who you are.

[A beat.]

A man that was searching for god appeared out of nowhere in my house and started to look for books- fuckin' weird is an understatement.

Sounds about right -

[Of course, he's referring to Peeta baking in general, but then you throw a curveball at him and he's quiet for a moment.]

... Searching for god?

[Whelp.]

In order to end the apocalypse. Whatever world he came from? I do not envy it's inhabitants in the slightest.

[He laughs.]

In my world, we'd refer to him as 'that crazy homeless guy on the corner that smells weird', but I guess now that I'm here, anything's possible.

All I've managed to do is add a few additional locks to the doors in the house and reinforce the bolts on the windows. I do not want anyone uninvited getting inside.

Better than nothing. Hell, I should probably fortify my own shit.

Edited 2012-05-23 06:25 (UTC)

Paranoia is a healthy thing...we never got around to timing our lock picking abilities, did we?

[Snerk.]

Don't believe so, no. [and then, teasingly] Though we both know I would have been the grand champion.

You sound so certain of yourself Rick. We will have to compare times once I'm allowed out and about without a stern look from my minders.

Aaaaah, see. You like to be a minder, yourself. It's nice to know you're getting all the stern looks this time around. [GRIIIIIN. Seriously, you always give him those doctor looks.]

While I find it irritating, I also know that it is necessary and for my own health.

...

That does not make it any less irritating. I do not know how you stand me.

I have the patience of a saint, of course. Sniper, remember? I sit and stare at things for a living, most of the time.

A sarcastic, American, rough edged saint. Though. Are you saying you stare at me?

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