[There's a lot in what she doesn't say. Mostly, it all centers around the fact that, honestly, it'd be nice to have another friendly face in this apartment right now. One that doesn't remind her of the Games. One that doesn't serve as such an easy conduit to the recurring nightmare that doesn't leave her alone during her waking hours.
Bodies upon bodies rise from mass graves and reanimate. Resurrect. Mangled, bloody, burned, unrecognizable. No, almost unrecognizable; familiar faces begin to jump out at her sooner rather than later. Tributes she personally killed. Glimmer, with a face still distorted and disfigured from the effects of the tracker jacker stings. Marvel, with her arrow still sticking out of his neck. Cato, somehow more vicious than he'd ever been in life, even with half his flesh missing. Gloss, too. And then there are others. Her father. Rue. Mags. Wiress. People she'd known in 12 who hadn't made it out.
They all move with a purpose, one purpose, and toward one target. Her. Closer, closer, closer, marching in time to the pounding of her heart. It's all she hears, all except for the sound of President Snow laughing in the background....--
Maybe she has her ally in the darkness again, but it's no use. For all the sanity he provided those nights on the train and before the Quarter Quell, this is one nightmare that Peeta and all his reassurances can't help her fight.
A fight that's now taking a significant toll on her.
Why are you thanking me? is a question that's on the tip of her tongue, but the only thing that passes through her lips is a quiet, weary sigh.]
something awesome tbh
Bodies upon bodies rise from mass graves and reanimate. Resurrect. Mangled, bloody, burned, unrecognizable. No, almost unrecognizable; familiar faces begin to jump out at her sooner rather than later. Tributes she personally killed. Glimmer, with a face still distorted and disfigured from the effects of the tracker jacker stings. Marvel, with her arrow still sticking out of his neck. Cato, somehow more vicious than he'd ever been in life, even with half his flesh missing. Gloss, too. And then there are others. Her father. Rue. Mags. Wiress. People she'd known in 12 who hadn't made it out.
They all move with a purpose, one purpose, and toward one target. Her. Closer, closer, closer, marching in time to the pounding of her heart. It's all she hears, all except for the sound of President Snow laughing in the background....--
Maybe she has her ally in the darkness again, but it's no use. For all the sanity he provided those nights on the train and before the Quarter Quell, this is one nightmare that Peeta and all his reassurances can't help her fight.
A fight that's now taking a significant toll on her.
Why are you thanking me? is a question that's on the tip of her tongue, but the only thing that passes through her lips is a quiet, weary sigh.]
Okay. [Then:] I'll see you.