with rocks and clouds we breathe violent skies ➴ buffy

[burnwithus]

It's only a few days after the disaster that was her return visit to Panem, and Katniss still hasn't slept. It feels as if things are moving far too fast, uncharacteristic for this idyllic island 'paradise'. She can't stop the dread building in her gut when she realizes that what had happened was only a taste of her fate should she return home. Being dragged into prison by Peacekeepers. Executed in front of the entirety of Panem.

This is what happens when you defy us. A message for all to see. People would talk, she has no doubt about that. Years after her execution, they'll wonder why she did it, because they don't know the truth. They'll write her off as being unbalanced and get on with their lives. Katniss doesn't contest the proposed accusation - she knows that her actions were based off of paranoia, at least in part.

She's back to her old habits already, wandering the forest, but this time Katniss doesn't take her bow with her. It's the bow that Beetee made for her. A bow that was meant for war. It feels wrong in this forest, untouched by the Games and the War and all the promises that the Revolution said it would bring but ultimately failed to do for her.

There's a bush of primroses growing wild, the yellow flowers drawing her in. The word rose is the first to make the connection in her brain and she almost gags again at the thought, but doesn't in the end. She doesn't know what she's doing, but Katniss kneels in front of the bush and reaches out anyways, wrapping her palm around a stem, trying to remove the flower from the plant. The thorns cut into her palm but she grits her teeth and bears it until the flower snaps off.

A drop of blood falls onto the yellow flower, staining a delicate petal red. Blood and roses. The symbol isn't lost on Katniss.

Blood on her hands again. Slick and shiny and sticky, stinking of iron. She's so used to it on her skin by now, but at least this time it's her own blood. Katniss can't help but think of the Peacekeeper's blood, hot on her hair and clothing back in Panem, and even though it was only a dream it had felt real at the time and Katniss can't help but notice how little she hesitated before reacting with the knife. There was really no hesitation at all.

So she's a murderer. That's nothing Katniss didn't know already. The problem is being forced to see the evidence of it in front of her.

With a sigh that resonates through the forest, she picks another flower. Maybe she'll make a wreathe. These aren't the places where Prim walked and lived, but it'll give her something to do.

Comments

[chose.livejournal.com]

Buffy did her best in Panem, did what she could, but it wasn't enough. The truth is that it hasn't been enough for a while, was barely enough to cut it even when she was home, and that gets to her. It makes her feel useless, resentful. It makes her hate this place and all that being stuck here entails. After over a year, she feels beyond restless, even if she's come up with a dozen ways and then some to occupy her time. It barely helps, these days, in the wake of everything that happened with Angel, and now with Katniss.

She wants to believe the best in the younger girl, but truthfully, Buffy isn't so sure she knows Katniss at all. What she saw in Panem wasn't a girl, was barely even human. It reminded her of Faith, and all the ways Buffy failed to save her, even if it was never her responsibility. Faith is still in jail, and Buffy still feels she could have done more. Hers isn't a conscious effort to find Katniss, but she isn't attempting to avoid the girl, either. Ultimately, they're bound to cross paths. That happens sooner rather than later comes as a relief; at least she can get it all in the open and out of her head.

"Those are pretty," she comments from afar, her voice soft and low. Only once she's certain Katniss has seen her does Buffy edge forward; she can't help being cautious now that she knows what the other girl is capable of.

[burnwithus.livejournal.com]

In some way, Katniss is glad that Buffy knows who she really is now. It seems better than leaving her with any ridiculous notions of her being a good person, or at least that's how she sees it. Maybe the kindness in the other woman's eyes and the innocent curiosity in her questions would fade into a dreaded realization and Katniss would witness her face closing off before her very eyes. No more smiles, no more light quips. Fine, whatever. It's no big deal to her; Katniss would much rather know the score than pretend because all she ever did in the Capitol was pretend.

The last thing she's expecting is for Buffy to approach her.

Katniss is a hunter. She knows how to look for the details that so often meant the difference between life and death. The slightest variation in the leaves of certain plants, for example, was the difference between nourishment and poison. She notes the tension in Buffy's steps, the cautiousness and she's almost grimly satisfied. Yet deep inside, she can't help but notice that it hurts, too.

There's too much blood. She doesn't want to stain the flowers, so Katniss lightly tosses them into a pile, wiping her slick palms on the grass where it glistens in the afternoon sun.

"Primroses," Katniss says, looking back. A beautiful flower named for a beautiful girl. The plant that she was named after were not as pretty, but were much more practical in terms of the fact that they could be eaten. But she doesn't want to dwell on her sister too much these days; six months later it still hurts enough to completely disable her.

[chose.livejournal.com]

"You're bleeding." The words flow from her mouth thoughtlessly, and without announcement, she rushes forward. She always was more reckless than careful, but even if she were certain that Katniss presents a threat, Buffy can defend herself. Even here, that hasn't faded, having made up for what she lacks in power by training more than ever before.

Lowering herself to kneel beside Katniss, she reaches tentatively for the girl's palm, just to assess the damage. If Katniss doesn't want to go to the clinic, there's nothing Buffy can do short of knocking the girl out and carrying her to a doctor, but she's hopeful that it won't come to that.

[burnwithus.livejournal.com]

"It's fine," it's said through gritted teeth, while the hand is pulled away incredibly quickly, defensively. An instinctual movement, like an animal's, because she doesn't like to be touched. Even if her brain had made the connection between Buffy's movements a second ago. It really isn't bad, though. She's had worse, and Buffy probably has as well, which makes her concern equally baffling.

[chose.livejournal.com]

"It's blood," counters Buffy with no intention of moving away. "We try and keep this stuff inside our bodies," she adds, simultaneously joking and not, her expression serious as ever. She may well be making a big ol' mountain out of an itsy bitsy molehill, but it's been a truth stressed throughout her life, crucial to almost every battle she has fought: Blood matters.

"Besides, it could easily get infected out here," she points out, now appealing to the girl's more rational side. Katniss, for all her eccentricities (and who is Buffy to call her out on those? She possesses her own fair share, after all) seems a practical enough girl. "Can we at least get you somewhere a little less cess pool? Perhaps someplace with a sink?"