It's the first thing Annie thinks, when she finds herself landing unceremoniously on the floor of a dark room. The rescue attempt by the rebels must have failed, and she's been seized and thrown back into her cell to wait for Snow's next move. Fighting to regain her breath, she wonders with detached curiosity how she's going to die -- because surely he'll have her killed. Thirteen tried to free her, for Finnick, and now the president will undoubtedly want to show them what a foolish mistake they made.
When she pushes herself up to sit, though, there's something under her hands that isn't the cold concrete of her cell. Carpet? And that pinprick of light... there were no holes in the door they locked her behind, no way for any light to get through the darkness. Annie creeps forward, intending only to put her eye to the hole and get a look at what lies beyond the door, but when her hand encounters the handle, it turns.
It turns, and she's free. She almost tumbles out the door, barefoot and bruised in the bed sheet that's all she has to wear (given to her by a well-meaning rescuer, she recalls, when he'd seen the state of the clothes she was in). The light is nearly blinding and she falls back against the closest wall, squinting at the rows upon rows of... ]
Suitcases? What is this?
( lobby )
[ What it is, she's decided, is an arena.
Something like that, anyway. Some new Capitol trick, punishment (for daring to escape) and entertainment (for those watching, as she's sure they undoubtedly are) all in one neat package.
After opening her own suitcase and putting on the plain clothes inside it --undershirt, boots, grey jumpsuit-- Annie makes her way down the stairs. There's a length of rope in her hands, another thing found in her suitcase, and her fingers fly through tying and untying an increasingly complicated series of knots. It isn't the best weapon, but even having something puts her mind slightly more at ease.
She keeps to the edges of the room when she reaches the lobby, finding an unoccupied corner where she can study the room and its occupants with wary, fearful glances. If this is an arena, she'll need to know the biggest threats. And she'll need allies. ]
ota
[ The rescue failed.
It's the first thing Annie thinks, when she finds herself landing unceremoniously on the floor of a dark room. The rescue attempt by the rebels must have failed, and she's been seized and thrown back into her cell to wait for Snow's next move. Fighting to regain her breath, she wonders with detached curiosity how she's going to die -- because surely he'll have her killed. Thirteen tried to free her, for Finnick, and now the president will undoubtedly want to show them what a foolish mistake they made.
When she pushes herself up to sit, though, there's something under her hands that isn't the cold concrete of her cell. Carpet? And that pinprick of light... there were no holes in the door they locked her behind, no way for any light to get through the darkness. Annie creeps forward, intending only to put her eye to the hole and get a look at what lies beyond the door, but when her hand encounters the handle, it turns.
It turns, and she's free. She almost tumbles out the door, barefoot and bruised in the bed sheet that's all she has to wear (given to her by a well-meaning rescuer, she recalls, when he'd seen the state of the clothes she was in). The light is nearly blinding and she falls back against the closest wall, squinting at the rows upon rows of... ]
Suitcases? What is this?
( lobby )
[ What it is, she's decided, is an arena.
Something like that, anyway. Some new Capitol trick, punishment (for daring to escape) and entertainment (for those watching, as she's sure they undoubtedly are) all in one neat package.
After opening her own suitcase and putting on the plain clothes inside it --undershirt, boots, grey jumpsuit-- Annie makes her way down the stairs. There's a length of rope in her hands, another thing found in her suitcase, and her fingers fly through tying and untying an increasingly complicated series of knots. It isn't the best weapon, but even having something puts her mind slightly more at ease.
She keeps to the edges of the room when she reaches the lobby, finding an unoccupied corner where she can study the room and its occupants with wary, fearful glances. If this is an arena, she'll need to know the biggest threats. And she'll need allies. ]