Hope | Katniss and Prim | pre-canon
Jul. 17th, 2012 01:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cosmicpretzelFor justsay_goodbye. Everbunnies 5ever <3
She’s soaked to the bone; her father’s old jacket has long since been useless to protect her from the rain that falls in sheets. Her steps are heavy as her boots slosh through puddles that threaten to combine and form rivers. But the loaves of bread pressed closely against her chest are warm, and her heart is light. So deliriously light.
The journey home barely seems to take any time at all.
It’s still in a daze that she practically races through the door and deposits her treasure on the table. Instantly, it feels as though the whole house wakes up from a deep sleep. Even her mother, long since lost and unresponsive, lifts her gaze to the sight, and can be persuaded to rise from the chair that has become her refuge.
They’ve been closer to the brink of starvation than ever. But this feast is going to change that.
She’ll owe that boy for the rest of her life, one that could now be much longer than seemed possible just a few short hours ago.
Right now, though, she’s not thinking about that. Right now, the only focus in her world is Prim. Prim, who has been slowly wasting away in front of her, reminding her of her failure day in and day out. Who deserves a much better life than this, this less-than-half alive, barely scraping by existence, where time will run out before the tesserae can help. Yet who, every night, despite everything, has asked the same unspoken question.
We’ll be okay, right?
Unfailing faith in her, even when she hardly deserved it.
The question again lingers in those eyes when she meets them, but the hollowness that has haunted them for so long has gone. Instead, they’re warm and shine with life, just like they should. She exhales, and when she does, her shoulders visibly relax.
She hasn’t failed her after all.
Prim falls asleep almost as soon as her head hits the pillow, and it doesn’t take their mother long to retreat back into the world of sadness that resides within her mind. Soon enough, her only companion is darkness, the most familiar of them all. Yet, strangely, it’s accompanied by something else, something that had been connected with the lightness in her heart but she only now dares to give a name to.
Something like… hope.
“Yeah, little duck,” she whispers. Her lips crease out the first beginnings of a smile in three long months. “We’re gonna be okay.”
justsay_goodbye. Everbunnies 5ever <3She’s soaked to the bone; her father’s old jacket has long since been useless to protect her from the rain that falls in sheets. Her steps are heavy as her boots slosh through puddles that threaten to combine and form rivers. But the loaves of bread pressed closely against her chest are warm, and her heart is light. So deliriously light.
The journey home barely seems to take any time at all.
It’s still in a daze that she practically races through the door and deposits her treasure on the table. Instantly, it feels as though the whole house wakes up from a deep sleep. Even her mother, long since lost and unresponsive, lifts her gaze to the sight, and can be persuaded to rise from the chair that has become her refuge.
They’ve been closer to the brink of starvation than ever. But this feast is going to change that.
She’ll owe that boy for the rest of her life, one that could now be much longer than seemed possible just a few short hours ago.
Right now, though, she’s not thinking about that. Right now, the only focus in her world is Prim. Prim, who has been slowly wasting away in front of her, reminding her of her failure day in and day out. Who deserves a much better life than this, this less-than-half alive, barely scraping by existence, where time will run out before the tesserae can help. Yet who, every night, despite everything, has asked the same unspoken question.
We’ll be okay, right?
Unfailing faith in her, even when she hardly deserved it.
The question again lingers in those eyes when she meets them, but the hollowness that has haunted them for so long has gone. Instead, they’re warm and shine with life, just like they should. She exhales, and when she does, her shoulders visibly relax.
She hasn’t failed her after all.
Prim falls asleep almost as soon as her head hits the pillow, and it doesn’t take their mother long to retreat back into the world of sadness that resides within her mind. Soon enough, her only companion is darkness, the most familiar of them all. Yet, strangely, it’s accompanied by something else, something that had been connected with the lightness in her heart but she only now dares to give a name to.
Something like… hope.
“Yeah, little duck,” she whispers. Her lips crease out the first beginnings of a smile in three long months. “We’re gonna be okay.”
