Gale Hawthorne | The Hunger Games (fromtheseam) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2013-12-06 07:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, !open, ~2013 december, ~40 points, ~~gale hawthorne (fromtheseam), ~~lily (summerslady) |
WHO: Gale Hawthorne and OPEN
WHAT: Looking for Work
WHEN: Friday morning
WHERE: All over, feel free to meet him anywhere
WARNINGS: Typical Hunger Games Character Warnings
STATUS: Open/Ongoing
Well, that had gone well.
In truth, Gale didn't know if his chat with Katniss could have gone much worse. But what was he supposed to do, lie? The bombs they had dropped on the Capitol children had helped to end the war, had helped to win the war. There was no doubt in Gale's mind about that. Yes, it had been a tragedy that Prim had been caught up in it. Yes, it had been a tragedy that Katniss's little sister had died. Yes, he felt bad about Prim's death. But would he do anything differently if he'd had the chance? No. Collateral damage was always tragic, but it was expected in a war.
He'd lost not only Prim in that bombing, but he'd also lost any chance of winning Katniss. He'd known that as soon as he'd heard that Prim had died. They'd all lost things. That was war.
He couldn't help but wonder why he didn't feel worse about it. He'd grown up with Prim. Helped to support her for her entire childhood. Loved her, or so he'd thought, as Katniss's little sister, and because she was a dear girl in her own right. But he couldn't bring himself to feel much of anything that she was dead. Regret, yes. But more than that? It just wasn't there. It was as if the part of him that was supposed to be feeling had been hollowed out and replaced by the anger and hate he felt for the Capitol and the ones that had pushed them down, trampled them, and starved them for their entire lives.
It had been the Capitol who had been responsible for Prim's death, in the end. Not him, not Beetee, not Coin, but the Capitol that had driven them to such drastic measures. Why couldn't Katniss see that? If not for the Capitol, Prim would be alive. It was that simple.
Gale had cut up the credit card that the Capitol Council had given him, not trusting their money or handouts. Government handouts had gotten him 42 slips in the bowl of death, and he was past mortgaging his life to survive. He'd keep the lodging - he could move out fast enough - and as Katniss said, he had no desire to freeze. But money? He'd find a way to make his own. He'd find a job. Or hunt and trade. Whatever it took. He wasn't against hard work. He'd worked his entire childhood, even before taking the lift down to the mines that had killed his father. People from the Seam knew hard work.
The trouble was, he seemed to lack any skills that this place found marketable. He'd gone into shop after shop, factory after factory, only to be turned away because he was a refugee, or because he didn't have the skills needed.
Finally, around mid-day, he collapsed onto a bench on the main street, feeling rather defeated and more than a little angry. Everybody'd told him that this place was better than Panem, but it wasn't seeming so yet. At least he didn't have his family to support, but his outlook was still looking rather bleak. He bent down and picked up a discarded bag of something, eating whatever was inside, expressionless. He'd been hungrier. Much hungrier. He was eating well back in 2, and that would hold him for a few days, anyway. He'd go to the woods tonight, see what he could find to hunt. He'd get by. He always had. Surviving was something he excelled at.
Standing, he threw the now-empty bag in the trash and headed back towards the apartments. Sooner or later he was going to have to talk to Katniss, but he didn't have the stomach for it at the moment.
"Lovely," he mutter. "Lovely damned day. Seems that the world likes to shit on kids from the Seam, wherever we happen to be."