HA (dgaf) wrote in colosseum, @ 2014-01-16 02:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! backstory, - districts, victor: 48th fawn aras, victor: 50th haymitch abernathy |
WHO: Fawn Aras, Haymitch Abernathy & Sky Cressnut (NPC, Haymitch’s girl).
WHAT: Fawn’s sorry and Haymitch proposes AKA PROMPT: Gift.
WHEN: 48th Victory Tour
WHERE: District 12
STATUS: Complete
Fawn couldn’t stop crying, wouldn’t stop screaming, refused to sleep or listen to anything anyone was saying. In short, the Capitol viewed her as uncooperative. There were only a few times Fawn had gotten severely sick during her childhood, but even then, she hadn’t had medication. Pills were expensive; tea and herbs were less so. But at the Capitol, money was no object. The only way Fawn would sleep (or shut up) was when she was sedated so, whenever she wasn’t in front of a crowd, that’s what they did. There were half a dozen bottle of pills that seemed to follow Fawn everywhere, but she couldn’t even focus well enough to read anything. Her body didn’t even feel like her own. When it came to visiting the districts, she was quiet. The girl looking into the Twelve crowd numbly, her legs somehow managing to stay locked and keep her up, despite the floor feeling wobbly beneath her. Read, they said. All you have to do is read. But the words on the cards slurred together. She felt like crying again, but she knew the tears wouldn’t come. Sadness seemed like a distant emotion, ready to start flooding back but was held back by a strong dam. She knew it was there, she knew it may break, but it was holding for now. Was she supposed to be thankful? Sentence by sentence, Fawn read. Make sure to smile, they said, but she couldn’t even manage to cry so how was she supposed to do that? The family of the boy she had first killed stood to the side. He had been around her age and Fawn could still picture him, shaking from the pain of a tracker jacker sting. His picture now looked nothing like him in the arena. Please, he had begged her. Fawn felt frustrated and angry that she couldn’t cry. She felt dead. She heard someone clear their throat, her Escort. Everyone was silent, and Fawn was still holding her card. Her brows furrowed as she looked at the family, tried to focus on their faces. “I’m -- sorry.” Back of the crowd, shoulders pressed together (that growth spurt could come in any fucking day), Sky’s breath smiling into his ear, “Solemn occasion, dickhead, get your hand off my ass.” Haymitch smirked and did no such thing. If Sky actually disliked his hand in her back pocket, she wouldn’t be leaning into him like she was. He’d also probably have two black eyes, instead of just the one he’d gotten off of Calla Thistlewhistle for betting against her brother. “Future husband’s privilege.” He didn’t just say, but drawl, lengthening out the words in a way he hoped would make Sky laugh under her breath and want to kiss him. Want to say yes. Instead, he got a scoff, bundled up with an outright snap of laughter that probably got them evil looks -- not that Haymitch cared to actively notice, his heart too caught up with what Sky would come back with. He kept careful watch for any sign she’d slip away from his touch. “Only you would propose on ha-ha-I’m-still-alive-fuckers day.” Haymitch dared to look at her, chin stubborn, glaring at her with eyes that could pin most anyone in place, and rouse the rest into baring their teeth straight back. Anyone, that was, except Sky. Whose front teeth -- bone cream, a little chipped -- were holding back that wild grin she had. “Only you’d say yes.” He bit out, sure of that. He wasn’t wrong when he was this sure. Never. Hadn’t that been how he’d got the money to buy her ring in the first place? Except Sky was shaking her head. Looking inappropriately delighted for someone whose mouth was shaping words that meant no. “Not ‘til we’re both aged out. You knew I’d say that.” And then she was gesturing with her chin at the tiny girl that was center stage, stumbling through some pre-rehearsed Capitol bullshit that was beneath Haymitch’s notice. “Just like you knew she’d win as soon as she was Final Four.” There was no reluctant admiration in her voice, no righteous anger, no bewilderment or scorn, nor dislike so intense to be hatred. Just that flat nonchalance that that was part of what had him furiously in love with her. Haymitch stared at her hard, no blinking, wanting to make sure she understood he was serious. “I’ll volunteer when I’m 17 and when I’m home, we can get married.” “You do that and we’re through.” The sing-song lilt to his voice made him want to spit and he could tell she knew it. She was the only one who could match the iron in his voice without any in her own. She didn’t even acknowledge him. Sky was back to looking at the new Victor, her eyebrows creased in approval at the I’m sorry for the mercy kill of their boy. She only knew it was sincere because he’d told her already during the Games that it wasn’t a ploy on the girl’s part. Haymitch scowled, dug his own nails into his palms to hold back the I hate you sometimes that wanted to whip out. But he couldn’t afford that. Sky was two years older than him and more amazing than any one person had a right to. He had to play niceish. Be mature. Watching her long fingers press to her lips and then to her forehead in a swift, messy gesture barely recognisable as the funeral goodbye loosened some of the tension in his shoulders. She was a rebel like him. His Sky. His. “I’m keeping your ring til I’m 18.” “I don’t want a ring bought with the blood money from your betting on 10, Mr. Abernathy.” Hearts didn’t stop, he knew that, but it felt like it had. He’d thought she understood now. Why he bet. It wasn’t like he could stop using his gift for understanding people to not make money for his family. Just because it was bad. As the crowd was pushed into going on its way, the pro-Capitol message blaring out after that slip of a sorry, Haymitch caught the scorch of light in his Sky’s eye, felt her hand slip into his own back pocket, her breath against the cheek she bumped a kiss on to. “I want some croissants for me and my mother, and some new shoes for my little sister, you keep the rest.” |