mmidnight — Roleplayer Guild

The first time that Haymitch made it out of the bloodbath alive, he'd thought that it was some kind of miracle. Back then and up until recently, kids from 12 were simply fodder, there to be picked off and add to the body count before the real show started. Keeping his life for a second time as an adult, with his broken frame that had suffered through years of abuse was the real miracle, and Haymitch was hardly able to believe that he was still standing. Although he had acted as though his nerves were calm, they had been anything but and knowing that the worst was over for him and Katniss was going to be enough to get him through the night. If the bloodbath was unable to take him down, he might as well have been invincible.

Whatever small moment of euphoria that Haymitch was caught in was soon cut short by Katniss's breathless panicking over Cinna. His eyes were full of concern as he listened to her, watched her as she internally beat herself up for what had happened to the stylist. He wasn't surprised that the Capitol had pulled something like this, that they thought to send an extra message before subjecting her to the arena for a second time. Unfortunate as it was, and while Haymitch didn't want to get on her bad side, there was very little that either of them could do. They were just as trapped as Cinna had been, and if they stuck around to lament over the loss of a friend for too long, they were going to be just as dead.

“You can't think about it,” Haymitch said, shaking his head. “Don't think about it. That's what they want, and there's nothing you can do from in here.” Getting a message to Peeta or receiving one from the outside world on the state of the dark-skinned man was impossible, and Katniss needed to understand that. In the arena, there was no room to worry about other people—which was always why Haymitch found alliances to be so dangerous. “We have to move on,” he said, doing his best not to sound so callous. He cared about Cinna, and he was sorry that the man had been used as a pawn by the Capitol, but getting killed over it was exactly what Snow wanted.

Making it over to a drier area, Haymitch kept an eye out for any enemies as Katniss began to pluck through one of the backpacks. He had to agree, the Capitol had been rather generous that year—a canteen and rations were hard to come by in the same pack. “I bet that wasn't meant for us,” he chuckled, attempting a joke that fell rather flat. It didn't matter what they said anymore, Snow couldn't do more damage than he'd already done. “Here,” he was quick to move on, and slung the other backpack down from his shoulder to hand it over for inspection. “Maybe it's more of the same.” Two canteens would have been a godsend.

After going through the second backpack, Haymitch looked to Katniss. Although he was sure that they were on one camera or another, he reached over and took her hand. “We should find the others,” he suggested, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. It was better than any speech he could give about Cinna, and Katniss needed to keep her head in the game. “Or at least find some cover. There's nowhere to hide out here.” Making camp among the weeds was hardly appealing.

The loud bang of cannon fire left a faint ringing in her ears, and Prim was unable to tell if she had killed the boy from 2 who had tried to choke her to death. The blonde supposed that she would find out come nightfall, when the images of the dead tributes were flashed in the sky, and the anthem was played just so the living remembered who was in control. She still felt sick from the bloodbath, and her hands were now sticky and dirty, feeling just about as uncomfortable as her insides as she leaned back against the tree to catch her breath. Seven days of this was going to be tough, but Prim needed to remember what was on the other side. Gale being there helped to keep her grounded, a goal that wasn't going to slip through her fingers.

When Gale mentioned the sword in his hand, Prim attempted to laugh but there was no humor to the sound. “That girl's dead, isn't she?” she asked, hesitant and heavy as the realization that their hands would never be clean again began to set in. The Capitol had taken away pieces of them that no government should have ever been entitled to, and Prim was just angry to have fallen into their trap. While she knew that killing was unavoidable in the arena, the blonde hadn't thought that she would be so willing—when threatened and backed into a corner, it was hard telling what a person would do. Shaking her head, Prim dismissed the question entirely. “Sorry,” she murmured, “never mind.”

Giving her sore neck one last rub, Prim turned to the tree and began to climb up the thin trunk. Despite its size, the growth was sturdy enough and it didn't take the blonde long to gain more than enough height to see at least half of the arena. Looking down at Gale, Prim pointed ahead of her. “There's a bigger field over there, and I think some mountains. Maybe there's shelter there.” At least, that was what Prim hoped since there didn't seem to be many large stretched of forest to hide in for the night. Still looking, she squinted her blue eyes, trying to spot Katniss and Haymitch, or maybe Finnick or Beetee. However, there was nothing, just artificial air blowing the artificial grass around. 

Again, Prim looked down at Gale before climbing a few feet higher and sitting herself against a thin branch. “Should I sing the song?” she asked, but wondered if it was too risky. If Katniss wasn't close by and an enemy was, she and Gale would have to run for their lives again. An ambush wasn't something the blonde wanted to risk.
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