Gretel (un_sweet) wrote in evaluation, @ 2019-12-30 12:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | !rooms: 4: day 1, hansel & gretel: gretel, the hunger games: gale hawthorne |
Who: Gretel & Gale Hawthorne
What: Debating the merits of helping their fellow man and other, less weighty topics.
When: Day 1, early afternoon
Where: Beach
Rating/Warnings: Low (kind of sappy in places, we apologize for any unintended cavities caused by reading)
Status: Closed/Complete
The water stretched, endless and a surreal shade of blue, as far as the eye could see. Gretel hadn’t given it much attention or thought on arrival, too busy trying to get her bearings and find Gale, but now she couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. It didn’t even seem real, the gentle lapping of waves against soft, sun-warmed sand. She’d never seen that much water in her life; rivers, yes, small creeks and ponds, but this was the ocean and there was no real comparison.
She was barefoot now, hair swinging in a single, loosely-plaited braid down her back, and one of the simple dresses from their latest set of luggage whispering against her knees. It was probably the least amount of clothing she’d ever worn outside, but after a week spent bundled in layers and swearing at the cold, it felt like a wonderful relief instead of a reason to have any panic about modesty. If she was going to panic about anything, it would be the continued lack of anything like weaponry in those stupid suitcases- clearly they’d just seen that it would be useful to be armed- but this place seemed more like a dream than a looming threat.
“You’re sure that you feel alright?”
Fingers curled, squeezing the hand linked around hers. While Gretel had come through that skirmish with the goat-things bearing only a few scratches, Gale’s shoulder had been wrenched right out of position. She’d done her best to bind it into place so they could keep moving, and it had been the first thing she’d attended to once finding him again. It seemed fine now, but she was still new enough to using magic that asking seemed only wise.
Not seeing to any of the others weighed on her conscience, but she would deal with that. For now, all Gretel wanted to do was feel sunlight on her face and get a better look at the beach. She’d never seen one before and the novelty might never wear off.
Gale had never seen the beach before either. Not in person, anyway - he’d seen the ocean on television because the Quarter Quell took place there, and he’d watched, tombstone chip eyes glued to the screen until it all went to hell and his District was firebombed. He’d never seen anything but the woods, but smoke and ash and a layer of coal dust on everything, but the underground of District 13 which reminded him of a rabbit warren - so this, it was a welcome respite.
He couldn’t swim and yet that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the view. The sun was out, it looked like a great big yellow lollipop in the sky. Just being on the beach itself was like experiencing a warm and cozy hug; he liked watching the waves and the way they washed the sand in white lace, and the breeze was a salty taste on his tongue, the scent of the sea in his nostrils. Getting sand everywhere seemed to be a bad idea though so he’d brought a towel outside for them to sit on, and Gale wore a pair of shorts from the suitcase and a t-shirt over that.
He supposed at some point he’d need sunblock. Didn’t want to turn into a lobster out here.
“I feel fine, promise,” he assured, returning the hand squeeze before letting go - but only so he could frame Gretel’s face, leaning in and kissed her - nothing hurried or rushed, but perhaps the only bit of sweetness Gretel wouldn’t mind. “Thank you - for healing my injured ass once again.”
It was a sweet kiss, as novel as the sea spreading out before them, and Gretel blushed a faint pink across her nose and the apples of her cheeks as she leaned into it for just a moment. “You’re not supposed to be making it a habit,” she reminded, thumbing at his jaw. She couldn’t fault his impulse to run at trouble. She’d done the same thing, and would do again.
But it would be nice if he stopped ending up with a non-functional arm. Apparently some higher power really wanted to make that stick. Gretel was having none of it. The only power she answered to currently was the bright sunlight overhead, chasing the last of winter’s chill out of her bones.
Her gaze tracked back out across clean white sand, skipping along footprints that wouldn’t last for long and a pair of gulls fussing over something that didn’t look particularly delicious to her, but what did she know? “Is it wrong that I haven’t offered to help any of the others?” Her voice was small, though the tilt of her chin remained high. She hadn’t decided if she felt ashamed yet or not.
“It’s not wrong, necessarily,” Gale said, fingers sweeping some dark hair, strands that had fallen loose from Gretel’s braid, back behind her ear. “No one can tell you what to do with your magic - it’s not really on a timeline anyway, right? There isn’t a rulebook that comes with it and, besides, you only just learned about your mom. Do you want to help the others?”
He had a feeling that she did. Gretel was like that; she and her brother were protectors, it was why they went from town to town and sacrificed so much, to keep people safe from the bad witches, not wanting their experiences to be felt and shared by anyone else - and Gale understood that. That was why he rebelled, personally. Because he was tired of the oppression, of the injustice, of the hopelessness for future generations.
If it were him, he’d be out there healing - but he could also see Gretel’s hesitation. The rooms seemed to be rife for potential for injury, and Gale didn’t want her to overexert herself. Or be taken advantage of.
It felt wrong to withhold help. Gretel had never done that before, not on a scale that felt like this. She and Hansel had been choosy with their offers in the past, when their services were in high demand and they could weigh risk against coin and decide where the need seemed highest. It hadn’t seemed mercenary to her at the time. They were two hunters in all of the country. They couldn’t be everywhere, and not every village that called for help actually had a witch problem. Sometimes they only wanted a witch to blame and it was a neighbor doing hideous things under their noses instead.
But this, it was people they’d co-existed with for weeks now; maybe not friends, maybe not even people Gretel had spoken to (she was hardly social), but people sharing the same experiences. That meant they were all the same in some respect, and she’d be pissed if she found out there was someone who might’ve been able to help Gale’s arm and failed to mention it.
He’d live either way, of course. But there was a difference in living and being free of pain or injury or sickness.
She sighed through her nose, teeth catching and worrying at her lower lip for a moment. “I want to help,” she answered, finally. “But I don’t actually know what I’m doing. I could make it worse.” Gretel had power but no training. What if she offered someone hope and then had to dash it when she couldn’t fix something? Wasn’t that worse?
“You could,” Gale agreed, and he didn’t dispute that. He still played with Gretel’s hair, idly, but his gaze moved from sand to stone, from rock pools to breaking waves; he had his brow furrowed thoughtfully, feeling like he was swimming in the briny aroma - it wasn’t unpleasant at all. After starving for a week, being in this place would bring fresh energy to everyone.
He hoped. They just had to get past the injuries they received from the last room. “But magic isn’t meant to solve every problem - “ Or at least, he assumed as much. It came with its own price, its own burdens. “You wouldn’t be out here saying you can put someone’s organs back inside their body. Just start small, maybe? Broken bones. Minor burns. Cuts and bruises. Then, you build up to bigger things once you’re more confident.”
Gretel hummed, thoughtful, and leaned into Gale’s side- the uninjured one, just in case. She wasn’t confident enough in her work to go putting weight on a recently-wounded joint. Shoulders were funny like that; pop it once and it would be prone to slipping again, and having lived with that particular pain before, Gretel could agree that it was one better missed.
“Magic shouldn’t be relied on in general,” she observed, toes curling and uncurling in the sand. She nudged at the jagged edge of a shell, scooting it away. “It’s fickle… and it always costs.” Sooner or later, she assumed some price would come due.
Hopefully it didn’t mean rot setting in. If she ended up looking like Muriel, Gretel had no idea what she’d do. Ask Hansel to do something unforgivable, probably.
Gale put his arm around her (the uninjured one - and it had also been the opposite one that he’d broken by falling out of a tree, so Gretel was in luck), snugging her in against his side as they observed the waves, hearing them crash onto the shore with that soft hiss.
“I guess it’s like any extra power - or, just...power. But - maybe too, it’s a lot about balance?” he suggested. “You know. You don’t curse people or take more from the Earth than you need, stuff like that. It’s about figuring that out.” He’d bet just about anything that the grimoire belonging to Gretel’s mother explained it in more detail - however, this was the fourth ‘room’ they’d all been in, and Gale had yet to see any of his personal belongings make the trip. Not even his clothes - they were all at the mercy of whatever was in those suitcases, unless they wanted to wander naked.
Weapons would be useful, yes. But also that grimoire - he wished he could get it for Gretel. He would in a heartbeat.
Having the first clue about all of this would be immeasurably helpful. Mina had been the only good witch Gretel ever encountered, and they’d barely exchanged a handful of words before she’d been killed. Even having the grimoire around would be something. She’d been wary of studying it at all around Hansel. He was still touchy about the whole thing. Understandably, she supposed.
But he wasn’t the one living with an unknown power at the core of him, so Hansel’s reticence could fuck right off about this. Gretel had let him put off discussions of their parents for a decade, give or take. She wasn’t waiting on figuring out her magic.
“I’ve only ever wanted to help people,” Gretel observed, toes digging divots in the sand. “Now I guess I’ve got a different way to do it… and you think it’d be easier.” Healing was nice, wasn’t it? And here Gretel was, longing for a gun or a bow or something to shoot in the face, instead. She was good at hunting. It was familiar and safe and simple.
Shifting a little, she bumped her knee into his. “It’s easy when it’s you.”
“Most things that are worth doing aren’t necessarily easy - isn’t there some kind of anecdote about that?” Gale smirked, nudging his knee against hers right back. He was barefoot too, and he dug further into the sand, finding the sensation interesting - it tickled, that was all he could say about it. Like a million, million molecules of natural massage beads just digging right in. Probably would be annoying to clean off, but he wasn’t thinking about that right now.
He kissed the top of Gretel’s head, other arm going around her (see, it worked just fine) so she could lean back against his chest if she wanted. “I’ll help however you need,” he offered. “Or just - you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here to be supportive, at the very least.” This was a big deal, her being upfront about her magic even in small ways - so he didn’t want to leave her flailing about it, with no support to fall back on.
“Maybe,” Gretel said, slow and careful like she was thinking her way through it even as she spoke, “We could start… small. With someone we trust not to… you know. Make it a bigger deal than it has to be?” It was we, for her. Always a we. Gretel had never been on her own and couldn’t think that big, couldn’t picture doing something risky without someone to fall back to if it all went to hell.
Maybe that was a lot of pressure to put on Gale and maybe it wasn’t fair. She couldn’t tell, but until he told her to back off, she would probably keep doing it. Gale was easy to trust. He wouldn’t steer her wrong, at least not deliberately.
Settling in closer, nestled against the sun-warmed cotton covering his chest, she closed her eyes. “Ronan, maybe? He seems like he’s good with secrets.” He had his own, anyway. Gretel didn’t know what they were, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d clocked that there was something peculiar going on there. So long as it didn’t blow up, it wasn’t hers to worry about.
“Yeah,” Gale agreed. “Ronan might need some help.” Or if he personally didn’t, maybe someone in his family would - he had more than a few people he was looking after, and Gale just hoped he wouldn’t be stubborn about accepting a little bit of assistance.
He also hoped Katniss was okay. They hadn’t really talked much, not since the first room. He probably should rectify that - maybe she basically told him to fuck off and find new allies, but he wasn’t about to actually listen. He’d given her enough space, now that they weren’t in danger of not knowing how they were going to feed themselves from day to day, or falling ill with winter plague, it was probably time to catch up.
“And he’s definitely trustworthy.” Gale too, could tell that Ronan was carrying his own secrets - his own burdens, wanting to do the right thing. Maybe that was why he liked him, and it hadn’t taken him a long time to decide that he did - could be how they were both headstrong as fuck too, but anyway. “Want me to talk to him about it?”
Gretel peeked an eye open and glanced up, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “Yeah. He likes you better, anyway. I think it’s the jawline.” She reached up, brushing it with weapon-callused fingers. Gretel was admittedly fond of it, herself. Gale’s profile spoke to stubbornness; something in the angle of his chin or the way he held himself, like he was ready to lean into trouble instead of rounding his shoulders and bowing under it.
She pulled herself off of his chest, stretching upward, and gave the water a long, speculative look. “Want to walk down there and see if it’s warm?” It was probably warm. Everything else out here was. But now that she’d talked through her inner quandary, Gretel felt prepared to tackle the next thing- namely, figuring out if that water was safe for a swim.
Gale didn’t know how, not yet, but they maybe had time to work on that. Might as well take advantage while the peace lasted.
He cracked a grin, a lot more boyish than someone who was as hardened by circumstances as Gale was tended to be. “It’s just my jawline that you like?” he teased, shifting on the towel to stand and offer a hand to Gretel to help her up. “Yeah, let’s see - don’t let me drown though, okay?”
Because he’d never seen the ocean, had never been in it either - but they’d just wade up to their ankles or knees or something, it’d be fine. The current wouldn’t drag them under. Probably.
The closer they got to the water, obviously the wetter the sand was - he scooped up a bit, and it felt like cold lava slipping through starfish fingers. There were pebbles as well, rocks washed ashore. “It’s really nice, actually,” he said, stepping further out to gauge the temperature of the water. “If we want to practice swimming we could try that pool at the hotel. Seems like a good place to learn?”
Or one of the pools. Maybe the one that had a bar you could swim up to and order drinks from. Seemed like good incentive.
“It’s on the list,” Gretel replied with a grin of her own, lightening her expression and chasing away some of the clouds still lingering from their discussion. No point in worrying right this second. She’d made some kind of decision. Gale would back her up. They’d get something done later.
For now, they could afford a few selfish minutes and Gretel wanted to spend them feeling the waves roll up against her calves.
She paused to watch a footprint fill up with water and smooth over again, vanished as if it had never been, and turned to step deep enough into the surf that it left the hem of her dress wet. No matter. It would dry again soon enough. “I’ve never been in a pool. It’s like a… pond?”
Having seen the pool on their way outside, Gretel could honestly say if it was like a pond, it was the cleanest one she’d ever seen. That blue water had been even more unreal than this, and this was clear enough that she could look down and see fish darting past her ankles.
“Kind of like a pond,” Gale said, toes scuffing the wet sand - and seaweed, he could look down and see it wrapping this way and that. Slimy. Now he knew why Finnick loved the ocean so much - for those in District 4, that was their thing. But before, he could only wonder about the beauty of the sea. “It’s manmade. The temperature’s easily controlled too and it’s not as...tempestuous as the ocean.”
He hadn’t gotten a chance to check out the scene in detail, but from his brief exploration of the hotel, it looked like a nice place to relax. That was probably the whole theme of this room, relax - he would try, but definitely wouldn’t let his guard down all the way. That just wasn’t in his nature.
Reaching out, he snagged Gretel’s hand and anchored himself in closer to her. “A weird part of me will miss setting traps everyday - “ He wasn’t going to miss the sugar rations or the constant see-saw sickness though, “...but this place doesn’t seem bad so far?”
If that candy house taught Gretel anything, years ago, it was that looks were very much deceiving and no matter how pretty or appealing something appeared… it could still be the worst kind of dangerous. She wasn’t prepared to set that lesson aside for a little sun and sand and the endless blue of the ocean.
But. She could try not to stay so wound up. After being sick, tired, and hungry for a week, it would be easy to let this innocuous setting lull them into a false sense of security; kind of like the little village full of pranks. But staying on edge constantly would probably lead to more sickness or lost sleep, and nobody needed that, either.
So, back to balance. All things in moderation.
“So far,” Gretel allowed, squeezing his fingers, “So good. Maybe whoever’s doing this thought they owed us a break.” Or they liked building everyone up to break them down again. Tough call. “We probably ought to enjoy it while we can.”
Gale had this awful feeling that being built up again and then knocked down, hard, was kind of the theme - it was a carousel ride of the worst kind, but he wasn’t cowardly enough to step off yet. For one thing, he still wasn’t one-hundred percent sure where the door marked ‘exit’ even went and, secondly, he had a lot of good going for him right here.
Like a certain Great White Witch. Who also hunted the bad witches, and was really good with a knife.
“Probably so,” he chuckled a little, planting a kiss on the back of her hand. About as gentlemanly as he ever got - he was too rough and tough otherwise. “Who knows where we’ll be next.”
Best not to think about it. Stopping to smell the roses (or pour tropical beverages down one’s throat) was likely the best plan overall.
Whatever this was, it didn’t seem inclined to end anytime soon. New people kept turning up. New mysteries were presented to solve. Gretel had committed this far and didn’t have a lot of quit in her, so she was sticking with it.
Hopefully Hansel wasn’t missing her too much, and hadn’t managed to get himself killed without appropriate supervision. It was always a risk with him.
“My vote is for never seeing snow again,” Gretel decided, then paused, her nose wrinkling. “Though I hope nobody listening hears that and thinks I want a desert instead.” This sand was scenic and warm and pleasant. Deserts were none of that and she didn’t want to go from tropical breezes to wishing fervently for water while they all dried to a crisp.
“Dangerous, to put that out there in the universe,” Gale quipped. They’d end up literally in a desert, where even lizards took shelter under rocks and the sand roasted everything it came into contact with, the air thick and hazy. He’d never really experienced desert climate either, and while he’d probably figure out what snares and traps worked, he doubted he’d fare a ton better than anyone else. “One of the Hunger Games arenas one year was a burning desert,” he shared. “It wasn’t very entertaining for the Capitol.”
Everyone died of dehydration, for the most part. What other way was there to go, when you had little access to water sources? “Arctic tundra too - everyone stayed still and just froze to death.”
But overall he agreed - he could do without seeing snow for a really, really long time.
“Your government was made of very stupid, small-minded people.” Not that Gretel had ever encountered any government that wasn’t, come to think. The magistrates, mayors and sheriffs they met in various villages were all some variety of pompous, condescending, controlling, and idiotic. Gretel disliked most of them instantly.
They didn’t like her either, to be fair. Having to pay a woman to keep their communities safe really irked them.
She peeked down, watching the waves roll and break in foam against their legs, and frowned in thought. “Do you think we could catch fish here?”
Hansel never had the patience when they were at home. Easier to shoot game than try to lure fish in, on the off chance they did encounter a river that wasn’t so wild as to make the risk pointless in the first place. “I suppose it’s easier to go to one of the… what’s the word?” Someone said it, earlier. She’d heard it, clocked it, and promptly wished for her little notebook full of strange words so she could add it.
Hopefully she remembered when they got back to the room. “Buff… hays?”
Sloshing back to where he was more ankle-deep in water as opposed to calf-deep, Gale chuckled. “I bet we could - that might be fun, designing some fish traps,” he mused. “But the buffets are definitely easier. You just grab a plate and fill it up.”
The Capitol had those. Piles and piles of food, plenty to drink, even literal fountains of chocolate or champagne or whatever else - it was complete and utter decadence. Why else would people drink pungent liquid meant to make them throw up just so they could go back for more? That was a practice Gale would hopefully see die in a fiery inferno where it belonged.
He wouldn’t mention that right now either - it would kill any appetite they had, small as it was after the little amount of real food consumed in Kolechia. “We can go in, check one out?” he offered.
Food on offer, take a plate and go. That was definitely a switch from hoarding pigeon meat. Gretel wasn’t sure how she felt about the scale of it yet, but she was trying to keep an open mind. Hopefully nothing went to waste.
Given how hungry everyone was, probably waste wasn’t a thing to worry about. If it was, it wasn’t her problem.
“Something to drink, at least,” Gretel agreed with a nod. The sun felt good on her skin, but she was quickly realizing that if they were going to stay outdoors in the heat, they’d probably need to bring water next time. Pretty as it was, the ocean wouldn’t be a delicious help for anyone’s thirst.
She waded back to Gale, catching at his fingers, and smiled crookedly. “You’re going all pink. It’s very flattering,” she informed, nodding (and only teasing a little). A tug and she headed back toward where they’d left their towel and phones, because those were things to make sure they didn’t leave behind in their grand pursuit of refreshment.
Something to drink would be good, something cold - that was the most important thing for Gale right now, because he was feeling a little flushed. And sunburned. Normally his skin was olive-toned, same as most everyone in the Seam, but he couldn’t wait to look in the mirror and see that his cheeks looked all rosy (which wouldn’t suit him).
“I heard you like your men to be a little pink,” he replied, clearly joking, picking up the towel and shaking the sand off before folding it. His phone was pocketed, as much as he disliked the thing, then he reached for Gretel’s hand again to lace their fingers together. “Alright, let’s find one of those juice things with the umbrellas, maybe something slurped out of a pineapple.”
He’d take either. And he’d be sampling pretty much every drink, thanks, because since he was here? May as well take advantage.