prims | first flower. ACTION & VIDEO.

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first flower. ACTION & VIDEO.

action; locked to sharpe; early morning
[ Primrose remembered dying. Or - she thought she did. She was almost sure she did. She could recall the child, could see herself taking off her jacket, could hear her name being shouted from behind her, almost drowned out in the chaos (you're imagining things, Prim, but she'd turned anyway) - her name in her sister's voice, which couldn't be the case because after everything Katniss had died, they'd seen it on the television, after Prim had watched two Hunger Games glued to the screens and praying that would never come, and then after the Games...

She remembered seeing Katniss. She remembered saying her sister's name. She remembered -

She didn't remember what had happened after. Or she did, but - she'd been in a city, and now there were trees overhead, and the quasi-familiar sounds of the forest. She'd only ever been outside the gates with Katniss, and each of those times had been years ago. But the shadows on the ground, the crunch of leaves and branches underfoot - these things she could remember.

A forest. It didn't make any sense, and Prim stood shakily, and realized that even less than that made sense: a white dress she'd never worn or seen before, and something on her back. Prim bit her lip, reaching back and - wings. Like some sort of capitol person, or - a muttation? Or what? And a book. Why? She picked it up, turned a few pages, and then shut it at the strangeness. As unsettling at the wings, really.

No city. No children, no healer's uniform, no - ] Katniss? [ Shakily, uncertain. The last person she'd seen, but Katniss wasn't there.

In the absence of any sense of where she was meant to be, Prim chose a direction and began to walk, stepping carefully. ]

action; open; afternoon
[ While she spends a good portion of her morning at her sister's house in her sister's room reassuring herself that Katniss was, in fact, alive and here (if not here), Prim eventually goes to tentatively explore. She makes a foray into town to pick up clothing that isn't borrowed and might actually be hers, Buttercup hot on her heels. The cat apparently isn't letting her out of his sight, for whatever reason.

Prim's grateful for that, although she nearly trips over the cat twining around her ankles several times. Eventually she gives up and picks the tomcat up to tote around, just so she doesn't fall over.

She can be found at the clothing shop, outside the bakery eyeing the decorative cakes and cupcakes displayed inside, or sitting and flipping through her journal on the front step of house 43. Or just walking along the route to or from any of those places - take your pick. ]

voice; evening
[ It doesn't take too long to work out how the book functions. It's strange, certainly, but after playing with it for a while, reading things - listening to things - Prim thinks she can use it. Try to figure things out a bit more. She can't make sense of what she's read and listened to; maybe it's just because it's so everyday compared to where she just was, or maybe it's just that the events and people discussed aren't ones she's familiar with.

She liked listening to the voices, though. Looking at the pictures. The video clips. It was sort of soothing, even if it was all nonsense. Eventually she works up the courage to say something, though. To turn on the video.

Prim is sitting cross-legged on Katniss' bed. It's the place she feels safest, and there might be a shot of the forest mural in the background, but mostly it's Primrose Everdeen, blonde braid falling over her shoulder as she leans in, Buttercup purring madly in her lap. She's petting him absently, and he mews like a kitten whenever she stops. ]

Hello. [ That's said too softly, barely there, and Prim has to clear her throat. Try again. ] Hello. [ This time the greeting is louder, more solid. ] Sorry, I didn't mean to...I'll try to speak up. [ Prim feels awkward, talking to a book, even knowing what it does. She would have written, but Buttercup seems to need the attention, and...well. ] I only got here today, but it's...not a bad place, is it?

[ That sounds tentative but eager. She is, after all, in one piece. And Katniss is, apparently, in one piece. And Buttercup is in one piece. Prim has never asked for much, but all of those things have always been included in what little she wants from life. ] I'm even in time. Just. May eighth is only in...seven days? My sister - she's going to turn... [ Prim's suddenly unsure. How old is Katniss? How long has she been in this place? ] ...a year older. [ And Prim does smile at that, although it's small and shy. She knows that sounded silly, and she's still not entirely comfortable where she is - probably won't be until the moment she sees her sister alive and whole - but she's trying. ]

Normally I'm the one who wakes her up, then. So...it's a good thing I'm here. To do that? [ Breakfast. She'll make breakfast, and maybe a cake. And while Katniss is the one who mockingjays quiet to listen to, Prim will sing her sister a song. ] Just like at home.

[ She's quiet for a beat, before going to end the missive - although then she realizes she forgot the important part. ]

Oh. I nearly forgot. My name is Prim. Primrose, I mean. Primrose Everdeen.

[ That should do it, just about. Prim ends the message, with another shy smile. ]

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[ moments ago, he thought he'd heard a voice. a whisper on the wind. harper would have called it the sidhe, or some other such nonsense. but sharpe merely lifts his head for a moment, cocks his ear towards the sound, and grumbles. bloody animals. they talk here, don't they? and they damn well had better not scare off his prey, for he was eyeing up a lovely spring hare and he would have it in his sights at any moment...

crack. the rifle's report reverberates through the nearby woods. the man himself is enveloped in a cloud of stinking smoke. it should sting his eyes but after years of service, the stuff is almost comforting. he breathes it in like fresh air. he hopes he hasn't missed.

sharpe stands from where he'd been kneeling next to a birch and leaps over a felled tree. he picks his way between trunks and brush until he finds his quarry: dead. the soldier smiles and lifts the slain hare by its legs. but it's just as he's inspecting the bullet's exit wound that he catches glimpse of something else moving no more than fifteen feet away. too big to be any small game. but not so big that he... ]

Oi! Who's that, eh? [ his voice lifts -- rough-sounding, no matter how friendly he wants to be. ]

[ A gunshot. Prim's not nearly so well educated in weapons to guess what kind it might be - she's heard guns go off before, all kinds, seen them go off on the screens of previous Games - but all this shot does is startle her, make her flinch and reach for a tree, like it would somehow protect or ground her.

What do you do when a gun goes off? She knows what to do for bomb warnings, knows what to do when sirens go off - but this? This isn't something anyone ever thought to tell her. When would she have been alone like this?

A man with a gun and a rough voice.

Tell or don't tell? Prim might have fight in her, but she knew better than anyone that she wasn't the fighter. And she knew she didn't know the woods. Running away, barefoot and without any idea where she was - that was as likely to get her killed as anything else.

Besides. Hadn't she been looking for someone?

Still, she tries to get behind the tree, a little. That's smart, right? Or scared - her voice shakes a little. ] I'm just looking for-

[ Her what? If she says father, she's accepting being dead. If she says mother, it's the other way around. If she says Katniss - if she says Katniss, what truth will she have decided?

Prim considers for half an absurd second asking for Buttercup, but brushes that aside as the undercurrent of hysteria it is. What finishes the sentence is vague, and Prim rubs at her eyes as she says it, though they're dry. She's not sure what answer she wants, because she's not sure what she is. ] - my family. Or the doctors -

[ The city. The fire. ]

[ he shoulders his rifle without reloading, but still holds the limp hare's body in his hands. the voice sounds young, and the vague impressions of someone hiding behind one of the forest's many trunks. someone small -- though many here were small when compared to his tall self.

sharpe thumbs the bloodied fur. before shooting it, he'd had half a mind to catch and skin the thing right here in the woods. it'd save him cleaning up back home. maybe even save him from one of miss trinket's scoldings. but this mystery is far more compelling than doing his due diligence on the hunt. ]

...A doctor? Eh -- miss? Are you hurt? Is that it? Do you need a physician? [ a good samaritan's concern creeps into his voice, softening some of those yorkshire vowels. ] We've a fair few in the village. Good'uns, I reckon.

[ but he doesn't dare yet approach. like any small animal, young lasses could also be so easily spooked. ]

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