and_survive: (pretty good with one of those)
[personal profile] and_survive
She'd been tracking the deer for an hour, and she didn't know why, exactly.

She must have had some idea this is what she meant to do when she found herself leaving the city that morning, because she'd stopped at her storage unit and collected her weapons, loading the backpack that now usually held school books with the tools of survival that had always sat beside her comics and her joke books.

Somehow, it sat better on her back like that. That was probably messed up.

But then, so was everything in this place. Messed up in how it was unmessed up, like someone had rolled back the clock on disaster. Made civilization come back. And Riley. Riley was back now, too, and Ellie... it wasn't accurate to say she didn't know how she felt. She felt everything, all at once, and that was the problem. She wanted to do nothing but be with Riley; she couldn't bear to be around Riley. She wanted nothing more than to talk endlessly with her, do everything in the city with her; she couldn't look at Riley without seeing everything that had happened, everything that Riley didn't know about.

It got so the noise in her head was as loud as the city and suddenly the city was driving her out of her mind, like the two noises were combining, and so she'd skipped school and came out... here. The countryside.

And it was better. It was quiet. It didn't seem to expect anything from her except that she be in it. She'd shot a rabbit, and tied it to her bag for lunch.

And then she'd found the deer tracks, and even though she didn't need the food, had no way of getting it back or doing anything with it if she brought it down, she'd stalked it through the forest, slowly and persistently following it. A glimpse here, a cautious step, a startle, another pursuit, until she had it fully in her sights, bow drawn taut.

She didn't fire. She stared at the deer until her arm ached with the strain of holding the bow at full draw, until there was no way she'd hit it anyway, she was shaking and wavering so. Hunting the deer had calmed her, but what would killing her do? Was this her now, killing when no killing needed to be done?

She relaxed the string without firing, and stood deliberately on a twig. "See you later, girl," she said, watching the deer startle and run and jump. Scared, but graceful, like being scared was the most natural thing in the world.

Probably it was.

She walked to a log by the stream the deer had been drinking from and sat down, bow across her knees, and watched the water go past.

Date: 2014-04-14 05:13 pm (UTC)
vocalfuel: (pic#4587301)
From: [personal profile] vocalfuel
"Yeah," I say, "something like that." Like Thirteen pretending to be so much better than the Capitol but torturing my stylists, and Coin sending Peeta along with the squad in the hopes that he'd kill me, sending Prim into a war zone. At the end of the day, there's not much good about either of them, but that semblance of decorum goes a long way, makes them feel better about themselves, lulls everyone else into a sense of security. I don't buy it. "Whatever helps them sleep better at night. While the rest of us..."

Don't, in my case, at least not for very long. I've long since grown used to the nightmares that keep me awake. No pretended order could have fought them off.

Date: 2014-04-20 04:49 am (UTC)
vocalfuel: (pic#6119989)
From: [personal profile] vocalfuel
"Not in a long time," I say. In the Games, sleep had been a necessity, but so had limiting it. Too much or too little could both be the difference between life and death, depending. And after — well, after, you're still there, it's just all in your head, and it's usually worse. Going to bed is like an instant replay of everything I've done wrong, every life I've taken, every secret I've kept. I've at least gotten better at not waking up screaming, for Prim's sake. "Years. Which is... weird, to think about."

Date: 2014-04-25 07:41 pm (UTC)
vocalfuel: (Default)
From: [personal profile] vocalfuel
"Hate to break it to you, but yeah," I say, wry, mouth twisting to the side. It's easier, talking about it like this, rather than the details of the nightmares or the way it feels to wake up drenched in sweat, my heart racing. Whatever experience of her own Ellie has, I think those are things she'd know for herself. "Could be different for everyone, though."

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Ellie

October 2023

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