paradisa | 003 || dictated

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003 || dictated

[Days have passed, and nothing has changed. If Katniss manages to sleep, she wakes up feeling even more exhausted than she did before. The nightmares are relentless, images from them also haunting her in her waking hours, along with a number of other things. Loss, confusion, the feeling that she's been cast adrift with no hope of returning to solid ground.

She has to get out of this room.

For the sake of her own sanity, she needs something, anything normal, or whatever could pass for it in this place. Maybe she hasn't had normal in a long time, but as off-kilter as she's felt, she desperately craves something that will set it all right again. There's one thing that pops into her head immediately. The place where she'd always felt the happiest, the most like herself. The company that came along with it.

She puts up the only filter that makes sense.]

Gale

[A simple message. But, really, Katniss has never been great with words.]

You around?

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[he'd been leaving her to her own devices, knowing that what had happened with Peeta was the hardest on her. that everyone else who knew her wouldn't understand, would constantly be asking her how she was, offering to help - and not doing what she really wanted, which would be to just leave her the hell alone.

so it's both a surprise and an inevitability when he hears those two words. Katniss always seems to say the most important things in two words. he's met people with magic and powers, here, and still, that's the thing that always floors him. powerful, strong, telling messages that take the wind out of him, in such simple syllables. "I volunteer". "I know". and now, "You around?"

it takes him a moment to put that old mocking smile into his voice for her - but not long]

No, this place threw me back.

[She didn't really know what to expect. A part of her had half-expected, like it had that day in the woods after she'd come back from the Victory Tour, that he wouldn't respond, wouldn't show. That he wouldn't want to see her, for one reason or another. A part of her, in all that had become somewhat strained and not-quite-normal between them after the Games and beyond, that was afraid that he wouldn't be there for her when she needed him the most.

So when she hears his voice on the other end, she breathes a sigh of relief, and with it goes some of the tension that's been knotting her incessantly, as well as some of the weight that's been dragging her down. She's quiet for a moment, allowing herself to take it in, like a lungful of fresh air.

When she finally answers, her voice has that familiar hint of mock indignation in it. The kind she only uses with him.]

If that's supposed to be a joke, it's not funny. [... And for the first time in who knows how long, longer than she can even remember, really, she feels a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. This is what feels natural, right, and for the moment, she doesn't give a single damn about anything else.]

[it was both frustrating and relieving, how this easy, old routine of theirs made him feel. when he'd talked to Ino, told her the whole, messy story, right up to that day in the cabin by the lake .... he'd felt hardened, resolved to play the Good Friend, frustrated with how Katniss had treated him in the wake of the Games. the recounting had made him remember just how angry and hurt he'd been that she could talk to him like just one more person out to use her, exploit the infamous Girl on Fire. that she could tear him down so much by doing so little.

he both loves and hates that when she jokes with him, there's only one thing he can say:]

Meet you at the doors?

[This is the one crucial thing that hasn't been lost. His ability to get what she's trying to say, without her actually having to say it. Now, more than ever, it's one of the most comforting of reassurances; in fact, practically the only thing that's brought her any semblance of that. Because she doesn't have the words for what happened or how she's trying to process it. She can't even begin to start finding them.

With Gale, she doesn't have to.

She's already up and ready to head for the door, arm outstretched to grab her "borrowed" bow, when she responds:]

See you in five minutes.

[he makes a quiet mental inventory of his thoughts, as he's gathering up his things from his room. it's as if the net he's made is his tangle of feelings for her. the short-bladed paring knife he found in the kitchen is the short, sharp bursts of anger that never last. the sack he fashioned out of a pillowcase is his truce with Peeta - strange and odd and flimsy, but still somehow workable and necessary and helpful. the book of plants is Rue, Haymitch, Finnick, Clove, and Cinna - slightly familiar, but mostly new and strange and distanced from him. he stuffs it all into a backpack he wished up - his own resolve to adapt and make this work - and slings it over his shoulder.

by the time he reaches the lobby, it's all safely away, and they have the prospect of discovery and old routine all rolled into one ahead of them. it's like fresh air, even though they haven't gotten out into it yet, and it's not false at all when he smiles at the sight of her - even as he realizes with a far-away ache that it's been so long, even here]

Hey.

[When she's finally out the door, bow and quiver and small pack slung over her shoulder, every step away from that room, the prison of her own choosing for the past several days, is liberating. There, cut off not only from everyone else in the castle but also from anything that might distract her, everything only played on infinite loop in her brain. Forcing her deeper and deeper down that emotional hole she'd been thrown into. But now, there's a path to the surface. The proverbial light up there is still faint, barely visible at all, but if she can just keep following it...--

She doesn't immediately notice Gale's presence in the lobby, still focused on that one goal to get to the doors. At least until that familiar voice comes from somewhere nearby, out of nowhere as it often did, and causes her to stop dead in her tracks. For a second, she can hardly believe it's even real; after all, it's been so long, and this castle has been known to play sick games with people. But all that vanishes when she turns in the direction of the sound.

The smile that had been just slightly tugging on her mouth now widens into something genuine. Even if the muscles that work to get it there are completely rusty from a lack of use.]

Hey.

[that genuine smile causes his own to widen even more, as he gets the door for her] C'mon, I found some berry bushes we can net off, a little while ago.

[even in a place where they don't want for anything, there's still a need that goes deeper than hunger, deeper than disobedience, even - a need to connect, to move, to actively do something. to live. while he's pretty sure most people would think they were wasting their time, doing this - Gale knows that Katniss is likely to understand that need better than anyone.]

[This place drives Katniss crazy for a whole host of reasons, but all of those reasons can be linked by one common theme. It reminds her too much of the Capitol. Not only for its games (everywhere she turns, she's only someone's pawn), but also for the smaller things. The extravagance. The way you can just wish for something and it appears, right before your eyes.

It's so far from home that it makes her ache.

So when Gale, that last link to anything that ever made sense in her life, opens the door, she has the confirmation that she's getting exactly what she needs. She steps through it briskly, without hesitation, not stopping until her feet are on soft ground again. Where they belong.]

Did you check them? [Again, there's that tone in her voice. The one that isn't entirely serious.]

[he chuckles, but the sound is short-lived, and he frowns. she's not going to like hearing this any more than he's going to like telling her. he starts striding across the grounds even as he speaks, though. stopping gives the whole thing more attention and weight than it's worth, acknowledges it, insinuates that it isn't something they can work around.]

Actually, I need your help with that. I brought the book with me so you can look. [he shrugs the bag off his shoulder as they move, effortlessly fishes the guide book out, tosses it to her, and puts the bag back on. he doesn't even look back to see if she'll catch it - he knows she will]

I can't see color properly, anymore.

[Short-lived. Just like the best semblance of a good mood that Katniss has had in a long time. No, nothing like that is meant to last. Not anymore.

Even if he continues to walk on, she'll stop dead in her tracks as the full implication of his words start to hit her. She catches the book being tossed in her direction, but otherwise goes almost completely still. It's the worst kind of loss for someone like him, like them. Someone who depends on an ability to carefully discriminate between almost anything, because not paying attention to one subtle detail could mean the difference between staving off starvation or facing your death.

... And he hasn't told her before now.]

What?

[ugh, Katniss, you stopped. why did you stop? stopping makes it a big deal. and Gale ... really doesn't want this to be a big deal. he has enough of those in his life right now, without it. he sighs, fighting to keep the irritation out of his tone.]

Color. It --- some of them are faded, and some of them, I can't see at all, anymore. Come on, let's go ...

[please keep moving, please keep moving. it's turning into a mantra in his head. if they keep moving, even if they're still talking about it, it will be easier. he'll feel like something's being accomplished ... even if nothing is. there has to be some sense of movement, some kind of progress, even if it's just travel and nothing of complete substance. he can't stand to be still, not in a place where it feels like every few hours something happens that makes him want to break things]

[Sorry, Gale, but this is kind of a big deal. This kind of revelation coming from someone who's been your hunting partner (and best friend) for more than five years now. It isn't the kind of thing that can be thrown around nonchalantly in the hopes that it might be overlooked or ignored.

And certainly not something that she's going to let go of easily.

Yes, Katniss has stopped. Those feet are now very firmly planted into the ground, practically rooted in with the grass there, really. And, no, it doesn't look like they're going to move anytime soon.]

How long?

... Probably forever. That's what people tell me, anyway. Ino, she says she's only seen what someone's lost change once, and she's been here four years.

[he's talking to an experienced woman, Katniss. u jelly?]

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003 || dictated

Catnip, forever

Gale, forever

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good lord how late is this tag /HIDES FACE IN THE GRASS :'(

/almost 20 days but I STILL LOVE YOU

Look how much I love you too this one's better timing :')

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