Semi-Open | See I'm trying to find my place

[withbread]

Who: Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen, The Panem Crew and any friends who might have reason to come by and check on them.
When: 23rd or so
Where: Room 101 (Katniss' room)
What: Being haunted by ghosts of course



It had been bearable for a while, the whispers and glimpses of the girl from 8, the boy he drowned in the 75th, Foxface, Mags, the Morphling that died for him. He could ignore it, push past it, distract himself by exploring this place, but eventually it had gotten so much worse. Waking days had become the nightmares that he avoided sleep in an effort to keep away.

Last he'd been pacing the halls on the first floor when he'd heard Katniss' scream. It had sent him running as quickly (and gracelessly) as he could manage to burst through the door, pulling up short when she appeared to be safe in her bed. She'd uttered that familiar plea and he'd gone to crawl in bed with her, assuring her that he'd always stay.

He hadn't left the room yet and they'd given up sleeping hours ago. They simply clung to each other. Peeta's entire body was bowed and curled around Katniss. He shook with nerves, with guilt, with paranoia.

"It's not real, Katniss. They can't be real. It's like the mockingjays in the arena."

He had no idea if that was true (was terrified that it wasn't) but he needed it to be true.

Comments

[64th]

Cashmere's having a bad week. It's been a bad month, really, but the last couple days have been exceptionally terrible - which is what brings her to Katniss and Peeta's room. Everywhere she goes, she sees her district partner, leading a pack of all the tributes she mentored who died in the arena.

She tries the door (locked, of course) before knocking loudly. "Katniss? Peeta. Hey. Hey! Let me in, Twelve!" If they could help preserve her dignity by ignoring the fact that, out of everyone, she's decided to come to them when things are bad, that would be appreciated.

When they do open the door, Cashmere barrels in, her nerves obviously worn thin. "Whatever's going on here needs to stop. We need to figure this out."

[withbread]

Peeta is fairly certain that none of them have had good months. It seems to be getting worse and he's not thrilled about that.

Paranoia drove them to lock it. Of course it did. They're being haunted by dead victors and tributes. It's a situation made for locking the door. When Cashmere knocks and yells, Peeta is hesitant about getting up and letting her in, but she's alive here. He knows that so he pushes himself to his feet, opens the door and barely has it cracked when she barrels on in.

"You think?" Peeta snaps at that. He's on edge, but he's got an idea about why she's on edge as well. She's got to be seeing some of the same things that he and Katniss are seeing. "Brilliant idea, Cash. Really. If you've got an idea of where to start, please be my guest."

[64th]

"Shut up. If i wanted stupid commentary I would have asked for it." That, unfortunately, is the best retort she can come up with. She takes a seat on the end of the bed, exhausted. At least for the moment it seems like they're alone. "I knew the flowers were a bad sign."Not that roses really have much to do with ghosts other than they're both horrific reminders of home, but logic is not really Cashmere's strong suit at the moment.

"Are you guys- ?" she stops short because she doesn't really want to admit out loud that she's seeing and hearing things. Even if the same is happening to other people. It's terrifying to have her past haunt her but she's starting to wonder if perhaps this is the beginning of a not-so-slow descent into total insanity. It's happened to some of the older Victors at home. First you're hearing voices, and the next thing you know you're a burden to everyone.

[withbread]

"I think maybe be kidnapped was the first bad sign, but yeah, the roses didn't make it any better." He's cranky too. He scrubs his hands over his head, mussing his hair up. He's exhausted and that's evident, but right now he thinks they're all pretty exhausted.

He sighs at her question and nods. "Yeah. The girl from 8...Foxface..." he trails off, swallowing hard. He thinks they're alone too, but he's aware that this reprieve won't be a long one. With only Haymitch to really be an example of what victors end up, he'd assumed any and all of Haymitch's going crazy had to do with alcohol. Perhaps he was wrong there.

[64th]

She bits at her lip, having not yet decided how much she wants to share with them. Vulnerability is dangerous in Panem, and it could be equally lethal where they are now. But if she can't trust the others from Panem, who can she trust?

"My tributes." There's more, but that's the most she's willing to share right now. She wouldn't wish the life of a victor on anyone, but she doesn't want her tributes to lose. They always do (even when she takes home a victor she still loses one) and now they're here to remind her.

"What do you think they want?" She's willing to give it to them, as long as it means that all of the torment stops.

[withbread]

Peeta may not have the experience with the Capitol that Cashmere does and he may not understand exactly how dangerous vulnerability is, but he's got a taste of it. She's right though, in this situation they have to trust each other.

He nods a little, slightly surprised that it's her tributes that haunt her rather than the people she killed in the arena. He hasn't thought about what it will be like to be a mentor. He's never had to endure that.

He shakes his head at her question. "To drive us crazy? To make sure we feel all the guilt we ought to?" He has no idea. This won't do anything for the ghosts of those haunting them.

[64th]

She doesn't feel as much guilt over the people she killed. Cashmere was raised to win - at the time, it was all just part of the plan. Winning is different. Being a mentor is different. He would have figured it out eventually. Maybe he still will.

"You didn't feel guilty before? Isn't that what being a victor is all about?" She'll agree on the crazy though. She feels more than a little crazy, like the last bits of her sanity are stretched so thin that they might snap at any moment. "Or do you think people like me don't feel guilty?"

[withbread]

Honestly, it's one thing he hopes he never figures out. There's so much about the Capitol and being a Victor that he's had just enough of a glimpse at to wonder, to get ideas (horrible ideas) about what being a Victor entails.

"Of course, I felt guilty," he responds. "But I wasn't crazy with it." And he's in danger of being crazy with it right now. He quirked an eyebrow at her. "I think people like you get a little more training on how to cope with this sort of guilt. Do you know what my training entailed? Throwing bags of flour around," he snaps at her. "But yes, I think you feel guilt."

[64th]

Cashmere huffs, and lies because she doesn't have a decent comeback. "I don't know what you mean by training. We don't train in One, anymore that you do." Which is absolutely not true. She had a whole decade of training and the Capitol was well aware. She still feels like she has to keep up the illusion even though not a single person in their little Panem crew would believe her.

"It doesn't go away, just so you know. You'll feel like shit about what you've done for the rest of your life." there's no reason to take this all out on Peeta, but Cashmere's miserable. As usual, she'd rather take everyone else down with her than be unhappy alone. "But this? This is us being punished."

[withbread]

Peeta gives her a 'bullshit' sort of look. She can stay with that line all she wants (and he understands sticking with what's familiar) but no one in Panem will ever believe it.

Her little 'spread the misery' comment gets a raised eyebrow from Peeta. "Well, I know who we're not nominating for her inspiring pep talks..."

She's not wrong though. He's fairly sure this is them being punished for the things they've done. "And we still don't know who's doing the punishing or, if they aren't Snow, how they know."

[64th]

She rolls her eyes, though he's figured her out on that point. Optimism is not her forte. She knows she's being awful, but Cashmere doesn't really care. "We should probably leave all inspiration to you, Dad." But really, he's their best option if they find themselves in need of pep talks.

"What if it's Snow, but it's not just Snow? Everyone's from places we've heard of. I don't think any of them are more innocent than we are. This might be a way to get rid of anyone who's trouble. Drop us all here and let us drive ourselves insane." Hope you wanted conspiracy theories, because you're going to get them. "Killian told me about Pan. He's the Snow of his world."

[withbread]

Peeta smirks at that. They're all a little on edge right now with things the way they are. He doesn't blame Cashmere or anyone for showing it. However, he's not going to bait her either. Arguing isn't something he wants to do right now. Really, he'd like to sleep: blissfully and uninterrupted.

"I've been talking to a girl named Skye. That was her theory. She seemed reasonably certain." Oh, he's heard them and he's been giving them some thought of his own.

[64th]

"What do you think?" It's good to know she's not alone with her line of thinking. She does like some of their hotel companions but that doesn't mean they've told the truth about who they are or what they've done. How much would someone like Snow or Pan give to be rid of anyone who caused them trouble?

[withbread]

Peeta is slow in answering and when he does, his tone of voice is reluctant but not uncertain. He doesn't want to believe what he does but...

"I think she's right. I think you're right. Snow is...he's powerful, but I don't think he could pull this off. If he could have...I think he would have done it before."

[64th]

"Yeah." Cashmere rubs at her face, her exhaustion almost makes sleep seem like a good idea, but by now she's talked herself into thinking that sleep will only make it all worse. "No one at home would ever believe someone could be more powerful than Snow. I wouldn't believe it without seeing this place."

[ivolunteer]

They certainly feel real. All of them.

Sometimes she tried to stare them down, as if unfaltering eye contact with the raw-faced Cato would make him back off; make him stop snarling like a mutt; make this nightmare give up and retreat if she kept a stiff upper lip and stayed calm throughout. But it was difficult. Especially the longer they stayed awake and stayed clinging to one another. It was like their terror made the ghosts stronger, more daring. Rue perches on the edge of her bed and asks her to sing. Blood bubbles over Cinna's lips like he's just been hit in the face.

Katniss had gone from clutching her ears in an attempt to drown out their voices to clutching her knees and rocking slightly in the confines of Peeta's arms. It's supposed to be comforting; the movement, the touch, the comfort. She'd been relieved for a moment when he'd burst through her door, thinking maybe their past would leave them alone if they were together. But now they were just equally unnerved and shaking while staring into dead eyes that haunted different corners of the room.

"There's no birds here," she whispers against her knee back at him, sniffs loudly and chews the inside of her cheek. "They're good —" in the arena "— but not this good."

[withbread]

Trying to help Katniss hold it together has done some good in trying to help him hold it together. He needed to be there for her, had to hold it together for her. As the hours wound on and the ghosts kept coming, kept accusing (and they were right; they were so right), he slowly began to lose it, any help to be gained from being there for Katniss sliding away.

He keeps his arms locked around her as if she could hold him steady, his cheek is pressed against her shoulder. Closing his eyes doesn't help. He can still see them, hear them accusing him. "It can't be real. It--they're dead. They're all dead and this can't be real."