trainingwings | (no subject)

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[ Waking up in a forest is the last thing he expected. Really, waking up at all was astounding, let alone with the sounds of nature around and with fresh, cool air filling his lungs.

He's slow to sit up, waiting for the pain to come. His sole companion for...he wasn't sure how long...it only made sense it would return soon. But there's nothing. Long, skilled fingers find his face and skim over unblemished flesh. His bare chest, when he looks down, is unharmed as well. Not what he remembers.

The lack of fire in his nerves lets him finally feel something he hasn't felt in awhile. Hunger. Thirst. It's enough that, eventually, he allows himself to stand and make his way to the nearby stream. The water is cool and welcoming against his skin, even if the spring air is a bit chilled, and he drinks his fill and splashes his face before settling back on the bank.

It's only then he catches sight of his reflection...really catches... and he sees the sleek black wings. They flex under his attention, and there's the briefest flash of gold as the tips of the pinions come into view...and then disappear. Well.

He gives the briefest of laughs, his soft voice carrying to the open journal, unknown to him. ]

Not my first choice... but it will do, I suppose.

Are you new?: N
Character Name: Cinna
Character Fandom: The Hunger Games

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We all seem to be settling for second best here.

[ The voice is unexpected, and it pulls his attention away from the stream. But he's seen much stranger than talking books in the Capitol, so it only takes him a moment to gather his wits. Outwardly, it shows as little more than a flicker of surprise before his expression smooths into a careful smile. ]

Oh, I'm not exactly complaining.

[ It's a mild comment. He's not really sure that this isn't just a Capitol trick. In fact, he's mostly betting on it. ]

[She's frozen as she comes a cross the man in the woods. It's almost as if she forgets to breathe. And when he laughs, she knows that she's not hallucinating. This is real, isn't it? As real as Rue is, having her second chance at life here in another game.

The dead come back.

And not just to haunt her.

It's glorious and horrible to see his face again. To hear his voice.]

Cinna. [And suddenly she feels so horribly guilty for keeping his red fire dress in the store in town. But what would a girl in the woods do with something like that? She takes a step forward. Than another and another until she's barely inches from him.] Oh, Cinna.

[ He has a few ideas where he might be, some nicer than others, but none of them are places where he wants to hear that voice.

Oh, he knew it was likely. They were gunning for her, his girl on fire, and her game had been so much more dangerous than his. But he'd hoped-

It's all he can do to keep from looking utterly crestfallen when he looks up and confirms that it really is her. But, of course, he can't. She's always carried too big a burden without him adding to it. So, after a moment of sheer surprise, he manages a small smile and rises to his feet. ]

Katniss.

[ There's warmth in it, even if it's wary. He doesn't dare touch her, though. He'd rather her be an illusion, safe away from the Capitol or death or whatever else this place is. ]

[Her own wings are covered by her dad's hunting coat. She holds her bow in her hand and a couple of squirrels dangle from her belt. She's every bit the huntress from District Twelve today rather than the Mockingjay she had been turned into.

But none of that matters right now. Because she drops the bow onto the soft grass as she closes the space between them for that hug she so sorely needs from the one man who never stopped betting on her.]

I'm sorry. [She barely chokes back the sob that accompanies those words. The weight of his death hangs just as heavy on her as any of the others.] They killed you. Because of me.

[ It hurts when she hugs him. Not physically. The bruises and broken skin are all healed as if they'd never happened. It's a deeper pain, because this confirms what he'd been afraid of. He was dead. He was dead and here, with wings, and this wasn't where he wanted her to be at all.

But he can hear that pain in her voice, and he doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight, doing his best to keep his own agitation low and controlled. He even tries to force a bit of levity in into his voice, though his success is limited. ]

Katniss, darling. We only pretended you were designing. Don't try to take all the credit.

[It takes her a moment to remember what he's referring to. Her talent. The one that was supposed to be in clothing designs. Where all she really did was sit there and take credit for Cinna's work.

But that's different. She knew that was only pretend. Just a way to appease Snow and the rest of the Capitol's expectations. This was real. Cinna never would've died if she hadn't been the Mockingjay.]

Snow wanted to send a message. Before I got into the arena.

[By watching her stylist, her friend, be brutally beaten as she stood helpless and trapped in the lift, unable to do anything but watch and beat her fists against the glass.]

Hey--they're in better taste than some Capitol fashions. Yours excepted.

[ He knows that voice. Peeta hadn't been his, but the boy and Katniss were inextricably linked, and he and Portia had more than enough time to get to know eachother's charges. It's not quite as much of a blow as seeing Katniss... but it comes close.

The gentle flame to Katniss's inferno...put out by the Capitol. It wasn't good news.

It takes him a minute to respond. ]

Small mercies, then.

[A smile. He doesn't yet know Cinna's ultimate fate, but he suspects the trick with the wedding dress wasn't conducive to a long life.]

Does Katniss know you're here?

She found me.

[ A pause. ] She's gone off too look for something from the shops.

[ There's no urgency in his voice. He's not worried. (After all, how much more dead could they be?) But there's a hint of a message to Peeta in his words. Katniss would need company, later. Company that wasn't the man she felt responsible for killing. ]

[That sound? Is Peeta starting to walk. Not to find Cinna, but to find Katniss.]

Are you at the treehouse village, then?

[ He can't help but sound a little amused at that. Cinna's not as spoiled as most Capitol citizens...but even he finds the idea of living in a treehouse entertaining. He can't really picture it for himself. It doesn't surprise him for Katniss, though. ]

I'm in the village. The arrangements they have here are quite generous. [ Not compared to the Capitol, but certainly compared to District 13. Not that he'd ever been there long enough to become used to them. ]

Oh, okay. By the way, did Katniss say what shop she was going to?

[ Good boy. His smile becomes a bit more genuine, knowing his quiet message was received. ] Something about clothes. She seemed to think she'd seen something of mine.

[ He'd considered going with her, but he felt that his presence might be as much a weight as it was a reassurance. He'd let her stay as long as the latter seemed to outweigh the former...but when she'd suggested the shops, he'd urged her to go on without him while he skimmed over the rather curious book he'd been given. ]

Thanks. [Taking off in that direction.] Just curious: what's the last thing you remember before you came here?

Mmmm.

[ That cancels his smile quickly enough, though his tone is still controlled. ] I think I might have been a bit peckish.

[ True enough, as far as understatements go, and safe if Katniss looks back over his unfiltered communications. Safe, too, if he's wrong and this really is still a trick of the Capitol. ]

They're really pretty. But you have to make sure you don't catch them on anything or it's really painful.

[ He knows the voice, but he still can't help doing a double take when he looks down to see the young face captured by the snapshot. He'd never had cause to meet her, of course. But he knew her. He'd watched her die.

It adds to the vague suspicion that the wings began, but his voice is somewhat gentled by which ghost has decided to haunt him now. Everyone's heart (except maybe President Snow's) was melted by her murder, including those who had never dared to think of the games that way. He'd been well ahead of them. ]

Sound advice. I'll be sure to be careful.

[Rue lives up to her namesake and the meaning. How many people felt guilt when they watched the girl tribute from District 12 sing the girl tribute from District 11 to final sleep? How many people realized at that moment they were the ones who put that little girl to death? That they had put hundreds of little girls and boys to death?

But today, right now, there's only a twelve-year-old of life and grace. She smiles, shyly, on her end of the journal. She knows of Cinna. Who doesn't? He was the one who set the girl on fire and in doing so, set the world ablaze.]

They don't hurt after the first day. You can wear them under your clothes or wear clothes that have slits for your wings.

[ He smiles, then. Just the faintest curve of lips. ] Sounds as if I'll have my work cut out for me.

...An odd thing, for them to hurt. [ If they were truly dead, that is. If this was a trick of the Capitol, it was simply a wonder they didn't hurt more. Yet. ]

I think they're like the surgeries people get in the Capitol to be fashionable. [She pauses for a moment, wondering if he'd be offended since he was from the Capitol.] But everyone has them here.

I like your wings.

[The open journal affords a bit of a view of the wings. Enough that she can make the comment.

The voice is familiar, but she can't place it exactly. Someone who worked with one of the other Tributes. Glimmer? No. No... hers was just irritating.

Oh, well. It doesn't matter. It's a bit familiar. That's a comfort in itself.]

From what I can see, they look nice.

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i'm not sorry /voice~

Nor should you be~

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