wastheexample: (Headtilt)
Haymitch Abernathy ([personal profile] wastheexample) wrote in [community profile] paradisa2012-05-01 07:34 pm
Entry tags:

Sixth Drink

[Given all the things that have happened to Peeta in the last week, it's not been a fun time for Haymitch. Somewhere between chugging the remaining booze in one night and arriving in the castle, he's ended up in the clinic. After all, he's only human and his liver tends to not like it when he punishes it to these extremes.

So he wakes up in a clinic bed, the journal beside him catching a quick rustle of bedcovers because Haymitch does not like waking up in places he has no idea how he ended up in
]

Oh. Great. Still in this place.

[He sits on the edge of the bed for a moment, grimacing as his stomach protests at all this movement. He belatedly realises that his hand hurts. A lot]

...Did I punch a wall? [No...no wait. Fuzzy memory, coming back] ...Or maybe Daniel's face.

[He notices the journal, picking it up and flicking through it. He really should apologise to Daniel for the face thing]

He probably asked for it. [Or not] How long have I been out?
accidentalrebellion: (we bout to get up)

[personal profile] accidentalrebellion 2012-05-07 05:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[Katniss, however, isn't surprised by any of this, but something in her just needed to hear the confirmation straight from the horse's mouth. Of course he knew. Just like he knew everything and chose to keep it from her. Just like Finnick...--

Finnick. It always came back to Finnick. Finnick, who hasn't been even a semblance of straight with her since he got here. Who never was. In some ways, he's worse than Haymitch.

But right now, she doesn't have the energy to get angry. Any inclination she has to is quickly usurped by the black hole that has been her existence for several days, leaving her only with familiar, cold numbness.]


What else did he tell you?
accidentalrebellion: (man i been did that)

Haymitch

[personal profile] accidentalrebellion 2012-05-08 04:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[The first part of that response, the oh-so-Haymitch-like "Nothing that you need to know", is profoundly irritating enough to bring some life back into her. It begins to cancel out the numbness, and returns function to her muscles and nerves. This is more than just keeping things from her; this is dangling the truth in front of her like a carrot and still choosing to withhold it. And this is something that she can't deal with right now.

Her hand moves toward the edge of the journal, ready to snap it shut. Why did she even start talking to him in the first place?

... But then that last part comes through, and everything takes a pause. Her fingers freeze in place, still curled on the edges of the book, a breath catches in her throat, and it brings back something, something she hasn't dared to think about. That conversation she'd had with Gale, when he'd mentioned that her mother and Prim were safe. When she'd first become aware of a strange emptiness, a hole she knew shouldn't be there. Something that would've driven her insane and that she knew she couldn't afford to dwell on, not in a strange environment that required her full focus, and so she'd pushed it out of her mind like she pushed everything out of her mind.

There's no pushing now, though. Not when deja vu is practically slapping her in the face. The best she can get out is something close to a whisper.]


What?