Gretel (un_sweet) wrote in evaluation, @ 2019-11-16 23:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | !rooms: 2, !rooms: 2: day 1, hansel & gretel: gretel, the hunger games: gale hawthorne |
Who: Gretel & Gale Hawthorne
What: Gretel has a sad. Gale tries to make it better.
When: Day 1, afternoon
Where: Wooded area not too far from the motel
Rating/Warnings: Low (some references to past trauma/death)
Status: Closed/Complete gdoc
Hansel was gone.
Hansel was gone. He’d faced those two doors, the same doors Gretel stared down, and made exactly the opposite decision. How had that happened? They were always of a shared mind. He should be here now, grumbling about beds that were too soft and how this inn looked nothing like any in which they’d stayed before. He wouldn’t be sleeping on the floor nearby. He wouldn’t be scowling down this new set of absurd clothes.
Blue jeans, whatever those were. Gretel found them only slightly less objectionable than the dresses. They were oddly constricting and Gale had to demonstrate the thing he called a zipper twice before she’d understood how it worked. Likewise he’d talked her through the money, which seemed flimsy and flammable, and had talked her out of trying to drown the furry things he called wigs.
Nothing made sense here and she didn’t have Hansel to commiserate with, and after a lifetime of never being apart longer than a day, Gretel couldn’t handle this a second more. She needed trees. She needed earth and grass and something that looked even passingly familiar, the space to grieve the decision she’d made, and maybe a minute to scream. Gretel ran, ran until she had to stop to breathe, ran until she lost herself in a small copse of trees and could stop to bruise her knuckles against the trunks. It didn’t help, but it did ground her again.
She was alive. She was here. The only choice was to keep going and crying over Hansel wouldn’t help her do that. But… maybe she could do it for a minute. While she was alone here, where no one would be the wiser.
Those furry things called wigs? Yeah, if it didn’t ensure that they’d be polluting and probably killing fish, Gale probably wouldn’t have objected to Gretel tossing them into the nearest body of water - his would go too, because what the hell. It was giving him Effie Trinket flashbacks and he wanted no part of that. The reason he even chose to go through the door to the next round of madness was because the idea of returning to Panem, and subsequently returning to the person he’d become, it was jarring in a way that he couldn’t fully comprehend.
But once they’d ended up in the parking lot of the motel, and he and Gretel chose a room, it became apparent that Hansel hadn’t made the same decision. It was rough on her, Gale knew that - he knew she’d run off, and he knew where she’d gone. The same place he would have gone to. Toward the comfort of trees and into the scent of crisp air - to Gale, a combination of grass freshly cut, the earth itself, and ice. He gave her some space to be alone and then he went after her.
On the way, he wondered if they could go for a hunt here. Gale was used to hunting illegally in the ash-and-coal Seam of District 12, out of nothing but sheer desperation to feed his family but that probably wasn’t a factor now; hunting deer was commonplace as the seasons tipped over to fall, probably.
“Gretel,” he greeted her as he approached, purposely making noise. His tread was usually velvet and eerily silent but he didn’t think she’d appreciate being sneaked up on. “Hey - I brought you some food.” In his hand he carried a to-go bag from the cafe. Burgers and fries, which seemed unhealthy but so good - he never ate anything like that back in Panem, so why not try it now? Before they got into whatever ‘team’ crap awaited them, based on what the intro note said.
The soft tread across crisp leaves did draw her attention around, and of course she was unarmed. Still unarmed, and with people all chattering about having powers back, Gretel was slightly on edge. Granted, she had powers… but didn’t want them, didn’t like them, didn’t know how to use them, didn’t even know if that was an option for her…
And didn’t want to think about it. She’d much rather have her crossbow. It was simpler. Cleaner.
Rubbing hurriedly at her eyes, Gretel tried to dredge up an expression that looked less miserable… and failed. Miserably. There was no hiding that she’d been crying. It made her blotchy. “Thanks,” she mumbled, sitting back instead of hunching forward over her knees. “Sorry. I just… I needed a minute.”
Gale settled next to her, wearing jeans and the least offensive sweater he could find in that suitcase. A lot better than those really old clothes, but still nothing like what he’d worn back home - then again, when he was growing up he wore basically rags. Nothing fancy. Mostly just functional.
“It’s okay,” he assured, opening the to-go bag and taking out a container that had one of those burger-and-fries sets. He’d seen people talking about that on the network (in addition to powers and other useless information), so figured it was safe enough to order. It smelled good, anyway. “You and your brother are twins.” Which meant a different kind of bond than siblings shared - they hadn’t even been apart in the womb. “I know it must be hard, with him choosing not to come here.”
The food didn’t look like anything Gretel had seen before, but that could be applied to damned near everything here. The clothes weren’t right. The inn wasn’t right. The village wasn’t right. It was so much, and she’d been holding it together in that awful house, but now it felt overwhelming. Some of that was Hansel’s loss. Some was feeling aimless.
There had been a threat, in the house. Gretel knew how to stay focused against a threat. Now she had nothing.
“We think the same,” she sighed, cautiously poking at something that at least smelled good even if she didn’t know what it was. “We should’ve made the same choice. And now he’s back there… and I’m not.” Hansel would have company, but Ben was a novice and Edward might leave altogether. Trolls served witches, after all, and Gretel was the witch. Edward didn’t owe his loyalty to the boys.
“I think - well, I don’t know for sure but it sounds like we’re taken from wherever we’re from and yet for the ones we know back home, it’s like they don’t even notice? Different...versions, or something. He might be back home with you and the others, none the wiser,” Gale said, opening his own container of food and popping a fry into his mouth. To drink he just had water, in those flimsy bottles - soda was an option but he didn’t care for the sweetness. Gretel didn’t either - he wasn’t an expert regarding all her tastes, was still learning in a sense, but he knew that sugar was something she’d turn away from.
He’d deduced as much, after she shared the story about that whole house made of candy that led to her and Hansel’s trauma.
Another fry went into his mouth - he was hungrier than he thought, and since he had money for food (for now) that wouldn’t be something he’d be overly concerned with. “I missed the woods,” he sighed. “Maybe even when you feel up to it, we can go hunting? Find something people in the town use.” Though he’d prefer a bow and arrows, or even his rifle - but all he found in that suitcase, and after searching the room, was a bunch of weird clothes. No weapons.
“It’s a lot, but I know you’ll figure things out. You’re smart. Smarter than most people here.”
Gretel could hope that Hansel was back with… some version of her. Someone who would keep him safe. He was an impulsive idiot, but he was her impulsive idiot and she’d never forgive herself if something happened to him when she was here, sitting around and safe. Well. Safe enough, anyway. Nothing here seemed remotely threatening, only strange.
“Do you think we can hunt here?” She asked, idly. That would be familiar. It would feel real, not like these bottles or the little phone that she still disliked using. Hearing other people talk about them as primitive dug at her, made her feel stupid. Everything was so far beyond what she knew and understood.
The food was good; some kind of charred meat and bread, something else that tasted entirely like salt and heat. Gretel frowned at it and glanced up to Gale, insecure. “I don’t know what most of the others are talking about when they speak. It’s all noise. They have powers or they have knowledge and I…” She huffed, shaking her head. “I don’t know what I have.” A knee bumped his, gentle. “We know how to survive. I used to think that was enough.”
Gale returned the bump, though his hand fell to her knee a second later, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We don’t need powers,” he insisted - and hell, before he even got sucked into whatever this was, a melting pot of people that jumped from one place to the next, he hadn’t even heard of nonsense like that. People just couldn’t do things like read minds or summon ghosts or light things on fire without matches - sure, the Capitol probably wished. The technology of their labs meant that they could create a lot of advanced arena fodder, but superpowered people? Not there yet. Wouldn’t ever get there.
“I promise it’s still enough. Everything you are, it’s enough,” he went on. It wasn’t Gretel’s fault she came from a different time and place, but here she was - and she wasn’t openly whining about it, or refusing to get used to everything. No, she was doing the opposite. “You know if we ended up in a place like your home, seventy percent of them would crumple.” They didn’t know how to live without electricity or indoor plumbing or their phones or food being within easy reach. It was a fact - and it was part of the reason why Katniss won the Games. The ironic advantage about being from District 12 was that your life was so terrible, you were already used to fighting for everything you managed to get your hands on.
“And yeah, I think we can hunt. Maybe not with our own weapons, but I can find supplies to make traps. Could even rig up a bow and arrows too, maybe.” There were probably rules about what you could and could not hunt as well - he’d have to check with the locals.
Everything here was simultaneously easy and ridiculously difficult. Water came with the turn of a knob. Lights came with the tap of a button. Nobody had to think too hard about how to get food or if it could be cooked or whether or not it was safe to sleep. Gretel was doing her best to understand how everything worked, not to immediately assume that it was all magic and she ought to light it on fire, but. The instinct was still there and it was hard to ignore.
“I know how to make a bow,” Gretel assured, reaching out to carefully cover the hand on her knee. His fingers were broader than hers, but their calluses were the same. She knew exactly how to make a variety of weapons. The trick would be finding the supplies, but she’d feel better if they were armed.
Being out here already made her feel more centered. Trees never changed.
“Well, then you’re in charge of that,” Gale chuckled, lacing their fingers - solidarity, a bond and a kinship between hunters but also with the forest which hummed with life. Taking breaths here was like water, fresh and cleansing, air flowed freely into his lungs. The weather might get colder but there would still be something.
He honestly couldn’t wait to go for a hunt, a real, actual hunt. The fragrance of leaves and loam, rough bark, light passing through the leaves. No interruptions, no cell phones, no honking car horns, no disasters. Or so he hoped. Sometimes, he remembered times from back home with actual fondness, him and Katniss camped out with the sun warming their faces, chewing on mint leaves, waiting for game to come by - he’d set his traps, and they’d go check them hours later to discover bountiful meat. They spent rare precious free time this way. When he was actually happy and things between them weren’t shit.
“I’ll pack a game bag,” he offered. “It’ll be...maybe exactly what we need? Don’t know what we’d do with the meat, but we’ll figure something out.”
While game wasn’t always their quarry, it was how they survived between villages; when witches went quiet for too long, when nobody needed their services and coin dried up. Gretel knew exactly how to stay still and quiet for hours, braced against the cold and the bite of insects, waiting with a gnawing ache in her stomach in the hopes that rabbit might peek out of the brush. Hansel liked deer better, and if he got adventurous, wild boar.
He was always adventurous. Gretel had sewn up a thigh once or twice when he let tusks get too close.
“We can cook it,” she offered, lips quirking into the pale ghost of a smile. “Smoke it, maybe. Show these people what it looks like to be more self-sufficient.” They were all so busy grumbling about things, maybe they needed the reminder that life didn’t have to be so complicated. It came down to the basics. Food. Shelter. Try to stay warm. Be grateful for company.
“I’m glad you’re still here.” Peeking over, Gretel’s smile firmed up a little. She wasn’t alone and that was reason enough to stop moping.
Gale’s mouth practically watered. Depending on the wood used, the meat turned out with different distinct flavors - applewood was sweet, pecan was fruity, oak was subtle. “Solid plan,” he grinned a bit. Especially because he was getting hungry just thinking about it - better focus back on the cheeseburger, since it would tide him over. “If they want to learn how to do it, they can learn.” Hey, might come in handy later - you never could tell.
“I’m glad you’re still here too,” he told Gretel, feeling better about seeing her smile a little. He wasn’t trying to take Hansel’s place, nothing like that - in fact, the more he thought about it, the more he kind of didn’t have brotherly feelings for her. It was...different. But anyway.
Besides, if she hadn’t been here, he wouldn’t really have anyone he felt close to - though yes, he had Katniss, but things still weren’t magically repaired between them despite having worked together sometimes in the haunted house. He doubted things would ever fully be the same, to be honest.
“I’m not going anywhere either, I promise. Not anytime soon.” Even if given the choice to return home, he still wouldn’t. Unless Gretel chose not to stay. Then, well - he could change his mind.
What would happen next, they couldn’t really anticipate. Gretel supposed that they would figure it out in time, deal with it as best they could, and simply keep moving forward. There was no going back and second-guessing wouldn’t help a damned thing.
Anyway, she could feel guilty later. Or worry. Maybe do both while trying to figure out why anyone wanted to keep a bunch of hair in their luggage.
“Good,” she murmured, giving his hand another squeeze before going back to her mystery meal. “Thank you for lunch.”
“You’re welcome,” Gale’s smile (rare as it was) softened a bit. It was the least he could do - yeah, they’d gotten out of one hell scenario and went right into something else unknown, so everything was all topsy turvy. It helped to have at least one constant and if he could be that, well, that sounded fine to him.
And if they actually got a chance to hunt here, all the better. More familiarity, even in a very unfamiliar time period.
Glancing to the remnants of it, Gretel arched a brow. “Should I ask what it is, or would I regret that?” She asked, after a minute. Meat in general was fine by her. Probably she ought to learn how to get… whatever this was, since they needed to figure out the finer details on hunting and if it might bother anyone here.
She stood by her advice to Eddie: making any of the locals angry was always a good way to get run directly out of town… or worse. Gretel had seen worse before. She’d rather not revisit it now.
The kid who thought he was everyone’s mom needed a reality check as soon as possible. They did have to tread carefully here. Likely there was some task that needed completing, similar to the last place, and they probably needed the help of the town locals to figure it out.
“It’s a cheeseburger - cow patty between bread,” Gale supplied helpfully. “The other stuff is just thinly sliced potatoes and fried up. Pretty popular during this time, I guess. It seems like the cafe has a lot of options - but even so, we had nothing like this back home. Not even during Parcel Day.”
Yeah, that had been a treat. Once a month airdrop of canned goods and actual sweets for the kids - things no one could afford usually. Gale’s food was usually so fresh it was about to run away.
Cows, Gretel understood. She didn’t care very much for milk, but it had some uses. Cheeseburger was a new one, but she shrugged and finished it within another bite. “Cafe is like a tavern?” She asked, idly. That would be helpful. People always gathered in taverns to gossip, so they were solid places to find information.
Whatever task they were meant to accomplish this time, Gretel hoped it was less complicated than the last. Group cooperation left a lot to be desired.
“What’s Parcel Day?” She added, glancing over as she crumpled up packaging and carefully replaced it in the bag Gale brought.
“Yeah, like a tavern - there are a few restaurants like that. Also an apothecary which - I haven’t checked it out, but it may be similar to the ones you’re used to?” he suggested, but then again, maybe not.
He too stuffed his empty container back into the bag, making a note to find a proper trash can when he headed out of the woods. Littering in the forest was pretty much the worst thing to do. “Parcel Day, it’s - “ Gale paused, and he realized he hadn’t ever really explained the Hunger Games in their entirety. Not yet. Maybe it was about time, finally.
“It came at the end of the Hunger Games. I...mentioned that my home country was divided into twelve Districts?” Minus lucky number thirteen, which had been underground for a long while. “Well, every year there would be this ceremony to select two kids from each District to compete in the Hunger Games. It was all for the Capitol’s entertainment - they had Gamemakers who devised an arena, and the kids would fight to the death. Then whatever District the winner came from, the Capitol would drop supplies - canned food and sweets and all sorts of things no one could usually afford - on one day a month for a year. It was called Parcel Day.”
Katniss always said that was the one time she felt good about winning the Games, when the kids of their District got so excited about receiving special treats. Gale could see that, he guessed, but overall he hated the Games. Hated everything about them, and he was glad they were abolished and that stain on Panem’s existence could be a reminder of what too much power did to people.
He swallowed the last bit of water, expression stormy, churning grey skies. “The rebellion did away with that though, after the war - no more kids dying for the sake of entertainment.” Bread and circuses. Yeah, fuck that.
That was… a lot to parse out. Gretel listened, a little pinch between her brows reflecting both concern and a little confusion. Why would anyone want to watch children fight one another, much less to the death? What kind of people did that? What kind of world?
She supposed it was a matter of perspective; what somebody was used to, how they grew up, what they considered normal. Gretel killed her first witch when she was eight and she kept right on killing them for another fifteen years after, and most people would consider that gruesome or horrible. So hearing Gale’s version of normal, she didn’t get to judge.
“That,” she said, after a lengthy pause for thought, “Sounds like a very good reason to kill a lot of adults who don’t deserve to be in power.” Gretel took a dim view of people abusing power, money, or advantages of any kind. Maybe she shouldn’t leap right to talking about murder, but…
She was who she was, and she’d solved a lot of problems by shooting them in the face.
Gale chuckled bitterly. “It was why we killed a lot of adults in power,” he admitted. War was ugly, and his hands were permanently filthy from it - the individuals he’d killed, bullets or hearts pierced with arrows, aircrafts taken down, seizing the impenetrable Nut. It first started to unravel between him and Katniss when he pitched his idea to win District Two to their side, by cracking the Nut. She thought he was heartless.
Maybe he was.
“And it was messy, but - just goes to show that being quiet about oppression doesn’t topple it,” he shrugged, stuffing his empty water bottle into the designated trash bag too. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent there.” They should probably head back, to see what other weirdness was in store for them.
Gretel shrugged as well, gaze sliding aside. “I don’t care about messy.” Messy got things done. Staying quiet, playing by the rules, keeping your head down… nothing changed like that. It wasn’t something Gretel could do. Had she been part of Gale’s world, she probably would’ve been right there with him, getting her hands dirty.
Standing, she brushed grass from her jeans and dusted off her palms before offering a hand to him. “C’mon. I’m ready to go back. We can find a local to talk to us about hunting in these woods.”
It would make them both feel better. And the way Gretel saw it, they both deserved that.
He took her hand, standing up to his full height, dirt and dust brushed off. “Something to look forward to,” Gale said, and maybe it wouldn’t be the same as hunting in District 12 (it hadn’t even been the same hunting in 13 either - he had to wear a tracker, and any game had to go to the kitchens; they just didn’t have a lot of range) but that was fine.
It was something. And really, not all change was bad anyway.