caelmellark

[caelmellark]

Sean Teale in episode 1 of Little Voice

[caelmellark]

“It’s fuckin’ creepy down here, can you blame me?  Everythin’ creaks and drips and echoes.  It’s the fuckin’ worst.”  He was used to homes and buildings making sounds, his own house back in 12 being fairly old.  It settled and groaned too.  But it was different down here, it all sounded lonely, desolate, it felt right in line with the chill he had been unable to shake ever since setting foot underground.  “Please,” he scoffed, “We all know you’d find somethin’ else to worry about the second I was put in the dirt.  Because not fussin’ over someone or somethin’ means bein’ alone with your thoughts.  The fuckin’ horror.”  Perhaps that was a bit too much truth for such a late, or rather, early hour.  But he didn’t say anything else, didn’t take it back, instead, he went back to his prepping.

“Plus you’d probably be charged with an accessory after the fact, or somethin’, so you’d be sent down river with me.” He added, a raised brow, but eyes still focused on his work.  There was something soothing about it.  The repetitive task, the monotonous motions, it felt to him how sleep should feel, a chance to shut off his mind, disconnect.  But sleep hadn’t felt that way since the bombs blew 12 away, and he doubted it would feel that way for a long while yet.  So instead, he took his night shift and he chopped the veggies, and found his rest that way.

“Mmm?” he questioned, “Trouble sleepin’?” The words were said with a lick of amusement, knowing his friend, always the saint, always the martyr, probably wouldn’t tell him, even if he had hit the nail spot on the head. 

Small, amused smirk played over her lips at the breath he let out and the jump that she'd glimpsed moments earlier, realising that she'd unintentionally managed to startle him. Dry words left her lips, unable to resist the lure of being able to tease about it. "Sorry, I'll cough or something next time." Eyes lit up when she caught sight of what he'd magicked up. She'd been barely hoping for anything, knowing restrictions would likely limit any kind of out of hour snack, but he'd outdone himself. "This is why you're my favourite." She didn't need to specify favourite what, he'd no doubt win every category.

Brow raised at his words, flippant words leaving her lips moments later. "Live a peaceful, worry-free life?" Words are said lightly with no real seriousness when she hoped that he knew that if the terms for her getting a peaceful life included him not being in it, it wasn't one she'd ever want. Almost as if to prove her private point, she hopped up onto the counter next to him, opting in to time with him over anything else the same way that she always would. Despite her teasing words, the truth was that his company was one of the few things that did bring her peace since arriving in Thirteen. There was an ease to it that let her relax, knowing that she didn't have to come up with the right words for him or even really think about what words left her lips.

Legs dangled over the counter, feet swinging slightly in a leisurely, absentminded motion. "Your secret's safe with me, if only because you've bought my silence with chocolate. It'd just be a bad move to turn you in." She was quiet for a moment or two, just sitting in the contentment she felt in that moment, before she breaks it with words said lightly enough to disguise the underlying heaviness to them. "I'm thinking of asking for some kind of night duty."

[caelmellark]

"I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy" I would. Pussy

[caelmellark]

Cael's hands worked at a speed only capable of someone who truly knew what they were doing or someone who's brain had completely detached and let their body run completely on autopilot, no overthinking or second guessing. He felt like he was going insane down here, losing complete track of time. How long had it been since he and Gale had been stuck in those damn woods? Why did it feel like he was still there, running, always running? How long had it been since he last saw his brother? Was anyone trying to rescue him, or was it all bullshit? Were they ever going to leave this damned place? Was he ever going to get to see the sun again? Was---Cael jumped slightly at the intrusion, ready to turn his ire on whoever was creeping around the kitchens. He didn't believe in the totalitarianism district 13 expressed around their schedules, but Cael was about ready to use it as a tool to rip them a new asshole.

He took a deep, shuddering breath once he realized who it was, setting the knife on the cutting board before turning to her. "Please, like I give a fuck," Cael answered with an unimpressed chuckle before making his way to a cabinet in the back of the kitchens, before hiding his tampering of the lock from her with his broad back. He retrieved what he figured was 13's version of chocolate, saved for special occasions, before making his way back to his friend.

After hopping up on a counter, he patted the space next to him. "Don't tell anyone or they might execute me.---And then what would you do with yourself?" He wasn't entirely unserious. He had the feeling they didn't take stepping outside the lines well.

Thirteen Kitchens || @caelmellark

The adjustment to life in Thirteen had become slightly easier once she had something to fill her time, her hours now mostly spent keeping her hands busy with some kind of mechanics. Feeling useful outside of playing at emotional support. But even though she had settled slightly Aspen still found her nights were restless despite the weariness that she felt. Not wanting to keep her roommate up with her tossing and turning she'd slipped out as silently as she could, going in search of the one person she knew would manage to quiet her mind without even trying. His schedule was as familiar to her as her own so she knew exactly where to start. As she quietly padded through the kitchen towards him, she cleared her throat slightly to announce her presence. "I'm guessing that even if I ask really nicely a midnight snack is off the table?" Tone was light and innocent, eyes widening pleadingly in a way she knew he'd struggle to say no to. Perhaps it was a little unfair when she suspected the obstacle would be on the end of Thirteen and their strict rules on provisions as opposed to her friend's willingness. But food hadn't been the purpose of her visit, his company was, and a little teasing provided the lightening of her mood that she so desperately needed.

[caelmellark]

Cael knew his behavior could often come off as miserly, grumpy, any number of negative adjectives. But he thought it better to be that way than the soothsayers of the world, who never had a negative thing to say or sat perpetually on the fence. He didn't respect those types of folks. Didn't trust them either. So perhaps that's why he relaxed slightly as the man from 2 made some sort of comment that wasn't just an appeasement to the saviors of district 13. Talk about people he didn't trust.

"What do you think it is about their dirt, anyways? I've tasted some dirt in my time, and you're right, it is fancy." he shot back. He was lying somewhat, dirt tasted like dirt, whether it hadn't seen the sun in centuries or not. But it felt nice, to talk about nothing, when everything had been so wrought with importance lately.

Of course it couldn't last long, and the man just had to go and ruin it, because no one could leave well enough alone. "Why? You didn't do anythin' and he's not dead, so save your sorries." The words were harsh and spoken through gritted teeth. "Aren't you tired of hearin' the same words about your girl? From people who didn't know her for shit and aren't gonna do anythin' about it?"

cael mellark, the rebel can easily note. ezra had sneaked a peak outside of the kitchen when the last hovercraft trip of twelve, or what remained of the district, came in. ( he was on dish duty that night after the last wave of dinner. ) klair could easily spot gale hawthorne, who looked so much like his mother: the female tribute from twelve. he'd heard whispers about the person nearby being peeta mellark's brother. unlike gale who beared a resemblance to his kin, the mellark brother did not look like the blond victor. the older man is good with faces though, so he doesn't forget cael.

" no i was actually on cleaning and cutting duty this afternoon. so the only thing i really touched was the vegetables and fruits today, " the man from two remarks. the district twelve citizen's snark does not go over his head though. he's dealt with plenty gloomy people in his time. " if i had would have been cooking, i would have at least added more salt. it would really offset the taste of fancy dirt. " the joke's dumb, but most of his humor is. in truth, the meal was edible. in times like war, that's the only thing that really matters. " i'm sorry about your brother, " he remarks. klair wonders if he and thea ellis are experiencing the same torment in the capitol right now.

[caelmellark]

SEAN TEALE as DARIO Rosaline (2022) | dir. Karen Maine

[caelmellark]

"Stupid questions get stupid answers, Hawthorne, so just focus on you, alright?"

Cael wondered if Gale felt more at home in this role that had been shoved upon the two of them. He had younger siblings to look out for, and from what Cael understood, it was one of Gale responsibilities to keep them fed. People relied on him. Was he used to the feeling of the pressure that was plaguing Cael? --- No one relied on Cael, not anymore, his only responsibility was not over kneading the dough, and making sure shit didn't burn. Yet here he was, somehow one of the people in charge of keeping these people, who up until days ago he couldn't have given a shit about, safe. That was just fucked. There was no way every single one of them would survive, and then who would they blame? He had a pretty good idea.

But he knew thinking of that would only paralyze him. His fight or flight response was overworked already, and he was running out of fight. He didn't know how many more days they could last like this. How many more days he could last. At some point, wouldn't it just be easier to get the inevitable over with? The merciful option? He'd rather go on his own terms than at the hand of the capitol, that was for sure.

"Sounds more like you're afraid to go alone, kid. --- So just for you, I'll come. Make sure nothin' gets ya."

Gale was almost completely numb. He had no other word for it, the protective barrier that fell over his brain, the thing that seemed to keep all of his limbs attached and moving, always moving, without stopping. There was no space for hesitation, no time to mourn, to think. Everything happened on instinct, survival was an old friend he greeted with open arms. The mention of holding a woman down -- a woman they both knew, a woman whose face Gale had seen around town countless times -- and cutting a leg off should revolt him. On a good day, it would make his stomach churn, maybe his face would pale, he'd have to struggle against the vivid images Cael was painting in his mind.

Today, there was no flinch, no grimace, no horrified expression of disgust to be seen. He remained solid, a rock that six hundred people were leaning on, and he nodded. "Yeah, I'll let them know we can help with tha'." He didn't love the idea of helping with that, in fact, but they might have to. Just like they had to keep these people alive, just like they had to hunt and trap and fight their way through. "Dunno if they can do it, but we'll see. Maybe Mr. Forkright saved one of his cleavers?" One of the butchers from town. It was as if they were discussing the weather, or what they'd be having for dinner. Not the life-changing decision of chopping off a lady's leg.

The idea of telling kids that digging was a game was good enough that Gale saw past the strangely-place jab at him. It was easier to keep pretending they were a team if they could be like this, turning a deaf ear to the other's quips. "Good." Was all he said, an otherwise silent agreement that they were on the same page.

The other's statement had him scoffing humorously, his eyes glancing at Cael but otherwise staying far into the distance, running over the treeline, the people, the ashy grounds. "Ain't worrying 'bout you." His tone wasn't harsh, there was almost humor to it, much like the tease he'd received a moment ago. He did worry about Cael, not from any sense of goodness in his heart or sympathy extended at the moment, but rather at the thought that if Cael lost his mind, Gale would be the sole leader keeping these people going. He felt a lote more secure having the other man helping out, so he needed him alive and functioning, still. "What, y'want me to go alone? Afraid I'm gonna bite ya out there? Come on, city boy."

[caelmellark]

Most of Cael's life had been spent with delicate steps, creeping around his own house like a shadow, naively hoping that his own parents would forget that he existed in the same space as them, hoping that his silence would buy him a night of peace. It's interesting, how barely any time had passed, but Cael had already started to lose that habit, feel safer in his own space. Guess that's what happens when the person who made you that way was blown to smithereens. But that wasn't a thought he wanted to dwell on, it was already what was keeping him awake at night, among other things.

As Katniss stood in front of him, disgusting jar in hand, she confirmed what Cael had already begun to guess. Katniss wasn't a nice person. But she was kind. And that made everything a whole lot harder. He didn't know what he should be saying to his brother's wife. Even if he was still unsure of whether their marriage was a sham, or borne out of love or somewhere in between, he should offer her some sort of comfort, right? But instead, she stood in front of him, doing something so thoughtful, he sort of hated her for it.

"Of course he did," Granted, Cael had still lived in the family home, so there really was no reason for the man to give Cael a starter of his own. But even with the man dead and gone, Cael still couldn't help but try and compete for the care and attention from the one parent who wasn't outwardly horrible. But in Cael's case, it had always been a cause lost from the start, a battle that could never be won.

Part of him wanted to take the jar and smash it on the cold, worn concrete. But part of him wanted to stop eating the cardboard 13 deemed to call bread. So for the time being, he took what was offered, cradling it in his arms, giving her a nod of thanks. "Did you find anythin' else? --- Of yours, I mean? Anythin' worth savin'?"

"i know." she hadn't before he approached the door, but it is obvious now. "mellarks are heavy threaded." and gale moved like a ghost, the way you must if you want to catch any game; cael's step wasn't as bad as peeta's, as her husband's leg is irrefutably heavy on its own. she can hear it easily, haunting, as if she was asleep or back in their bed waiting for him to join her. katniss wonders how long until that - - if she will ever stop waiting to hear peeta's loud feet make their way towards her.

cael's disbelief is clear, and not without reason. she had made great effort to avoid him underground, and even when they were in twelve and were all part of a happy big family, the act was poor, and the two of them were rather unfitting for it. here, it's even worse without a buffer, but cael is the second on a rather small list of people who have known peeta beyond the flurry of a hologram and katniss owes him this. hesitation momentarily weighs her actions, but she extends a glass jar filled with a slimy substance. "peeta called it a starter; he said mr. mellark gave it to him, after he moved to the village." it was something passed on from father to son for a while, fed regularly, and perfected to best serve their craft; she had been impulsive to take it from the everdeen kitchen, where her mother had been (surprisingly expertedly) tending to it, but there was logical use to it: by using the mellark starter, the kitchens from 13 may be able to use less ingredients, and overall their horrible bread loaves would improve. but instead of bringing it to the kitchen, katniss had locked it away with their precious belongings, along with the everdeen plant book, unwilling to share these little fleeting bits of peeta with anyone else.

until now, when the possibility of his return is not one confided to bittersweet dreams. "it was in our kitchen." of course; there was nothing left of the bakery, but it's not something they need to talk about because he'd know. "i want you to have it."

[caelmellark]

five times hurt (cael and aspen)

one - it's the first day of school and she's sat next to a boy who looks like he's from the Seam like her but she knows she's never met him before. She'd always been told to be kind and so she reaches out to pass him a crayon, telling him sagely "It needs more blue." But her gesture causes him to flinch away from and out of the confused emotions it causes the strongest one she feels is hurt. ( much later she'd learn enough about him to piece together why he'd flinched and realise it was far from personal. That realisation will only hurt more ) It doesn't last for long though when at that moment she decides that she's going to be his friend, she just might have to try a little harder. But she thought she'd seen sadness hiding in his eyes and that was enough for her to want to try to bring a little joy. Her hand stays where it is, holding that worn down blue crayon, instead of pulling it away she picks up a green with her other hand and holds that out too. "Or d'you want green instead?"

two - he's reaching up for something - his teasing ensuring they're both aware that she couldn't reach and earning him an eyeroll - hem of his shirt rises up and she catches sight of bruised bloomed all over his skin. Her own chest tights enough that she has to hold back the gasp that the ache threatens to cause. Drawing attention to them was the last thing she wanted to do. It wasn't the first time and from what she knows about Pudina Mellark she suspected that it wouldn't be the last either. It's a thought that makes the ache in her chest fade slightly but only because it's replaced by a simmering anger. Perhaps it was a good thing that Cael always kept them so separate when Aspen wasn't sure her anger wouldn't boil over and scald the both of them.

three - her mother had been called away, her uncle and cousin at work which was were she would have been if it weren't for her injured wrist. With options so limited she'd reluctantly asked Cael to help, all wide beseeching eyes and pleading tone. True to character he'd been just as reluctant to agree to help with her hair, grumbling to make it known. A tug at her scalp makes her wince and while she was undeniably grateful it doesn't stop grumbled words from leaving her lips. "I thought you said this'd be easy for you, Mellark." Aspen huffs slightly as if to prove her point, he'd let go of her hair and so she can turn back to face him, brow furrowing as she begins her impersonation. "'Can't be more difficult than braiding dough.'" She mimics his voice in a manner she thinks is uncanny, deep and gruff with just enough of a ridiculous edge for it to count as teasing. Grin lights up her features before she turns back around, giving him silent permission to continue. "Have I ever told you you're the best friend a girl could ask for?"

four - they're fighting and this time it feels a little too real. It's not their usual light-hearted bickering over something inconsequential. No, this time it feels heavy as Cael makes his thoughts on the boy she'd been seeing all too clear and it touches enough of a nerve she's instantly defensive. His lack of approval stings as though she'd been slapped and she feels rare frustrated tears pricking at her eyes. It was stupid, the whole thing was stupid and that only makes it worse. But his good opinion had always meant so much to her she's not sure what she's supposed to do without it. She's not someone who needs a blessing but the absence of his leaves a hollow pain that she's not sure what to do with. But there's a stubbornness in her that most of the time is subtle enough to be seen as determination but now she channels it to narrow her eyes at him, refusing to let the prickling tears actually form. "You're hardly an expert on relationships so forgive me if I don't take that on board."

five - his dark moods were always easily enough spotted and she was never slow to ask him the reason behind it in a show of support. But as quick as she was to ask, Cael had always been just as quick to dismiss it. She understands him well enough now it was no longer a shock to her, she knew it wasn't a reflection on the depth of their bond. But no matter how much logic she applied there was still a part of her that felt as a kind of rejection. That maybe he just doesn't want to tell her - whether through a lack of trust or his perceived lack of importance. Both thoughts bring hurt with them, one stinging and the other aching. She knows neither is true - her friend simply likes to keep his demons to himself, rejecting any offers of light that might dispel them. Her face doesn't show this though ( after all she'd had years of practise to avoid making him feel guilty over her own projections ) and instead she just levels a stern look his way. It's one he's well used to, as are the words that leave her lips. "Fine. You don't have to tell me now but don't think I'll forget about it."

[caelmellark]

"Well we both know you already had that image," Cael said with a shrug, raised brow and the smallest upturn at the corner of his mouth. He knew his little brother had seen it, even before he came to him later that night, askin' about the mechanics of it all. That moment was in his top five moments on the 'wish our parents actually gave shit' list. As having to explain that to your brother was something no one should have to suffer through.

He couldn't help but snort at Peeta's next words though, the absurdity of the idea enough to break through his gruff exterior and get a flash of a grin. "You mean I'd work there until I drove the business into the ground and it had to close, right?" --- But maybe it'd be easier, if he just chose the road of less resistance, like Rye had. Find someone he didn't entirely hate, get married, get the fuck away from Pudina. But he knew he'd never be a good husband, and as much apathy he held for others, he wouldn't want to do that to someone. Cael had seen the seething damage a passive husband and father could do, he had grown up with Aldar after all.

"What's it like livin' over there anyways? Bet you got your own bed and everythin' now. Fancy ass."

It takes his brother a second to answer, which is both like Cael and unlike him. Sometimes he was so full of words they just can sputtering out, usually with hostility, until Peeta either told him to be quiet before Ma heard - or until Ma actually heard and 'took care of it.' Other times, however, he'd get so quiet, so introspective, that Peeta never knew what he was thinking.

Now is one of those times and he stops doing the cakes to watch his brother's gaze as they grow cloudy, in some thought that Peeta will never know. I didn't mean me. Oh, it's that. "Me either," Peeta says and it's mostly honest. He needs his brother - more than he'd expected after not having been that close in years. But also... he can't blame Cael for staying away. He's not the same person anymore.

But Cael does an excellent job at loosening the tension, even though that's usually Peeta's job in this house. He snorts, eyes closed as he shakes his head as though trying to forget a memory. "I really didn' need that image," he says with a laugh before opening his eyes and bending over to add a bit of yellow frosting to the side.

"Hey," Peeta says, voice lighter. "Mariel's not so bad. You'd work at the toy store." Of course, Cael would have to get married to do that and he doubts he brother would want that. Peeta doesn't offer him to come live in Victor's Village. Not again, not after he had and Ma had spoken for them all and Cael's never brought it up since.

Maybe living with him would be worse for his brother than living here.

[caelmellark]

“That song was beautiful.”

[caelmellark]

These past couple of days, he had felt like a ship in the night, unable to see, battered by the waves. And as more time passed, he marveled in the fact he hadn't been smashed upon the rocks yet, so lost at sea, he didn't know which way was shore. But then, there she was, a lighthouse flashing it's light, letting him skirt the coast so he could maybe one day make it home.

Because, before he had seen her through the trees, with his parents, his brother, his nieces and nephews dead and gone, Peeta god knows where having god knows what done to him, and the only place he had ever known in ruins, Cael wasn't sure he'd ever know the meaning of 'home' again. But then, there she was, in his arms, Alive. Well, or well enough, and for the first time in four days, Cael found himself able to breathe.

He'd be lying if it all didn't feel a bit like a dream, and he wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't. He wasn't used to life doing him favors, and the one who was smearing blood and snot and god knows what else on him, was the biggest favor of all. --- He didn't have a clue in hell how long they stood there, but he was too afraid to let go of his best friend, feeling that if he did, he might be proven right, and this dream would turn into some horrible nightmare, like the ones that had been plaguing him in his few moments of stolen sleep.

But Aspen was always the braver of the two, and she was the first to pull away. "Holy shit, you're a mess." were the first words out of his mouth as he looked at her, covered in soot and blood and mud. Although, he wasn't sure he looked much better, probably covered in soot and mud and other people's blood. "That's what happens when you have a head wound," he responded gruffly, his hands leaving their previous placement on her back to gently prod at the wound. He was no famous Everdeen Healer, but with the way his life had went, he knew his way around an injury, and found himself inspecting Aspen's closely. "You ain't gonna like it, but I think you need a needle and thread through this thing. Gotta clean it too." He figured in the 600 of them, someone had the supplies to do it, and he'd fight them for it if he had to.

"Only my sanity having to deal with fuckin' Hawthorne these past four days." He was so overwhelmed by what he was feeling, he found it near on impossible to deal with the sentimentality of it all, and answered in jest, although the gravel in his voice betrayed exactly how he was feeling.

With the ache in her ankle and the pounding in her head clearing slightly in the quiet as they rest, all Aspen is left with is too many thoughts. There's so much worry and grief about what had happened and what they were going to do next, her head practically spins with the rate the thoughts are whirling around. The tree she'd been leaning against in an effort to ground herself no longer feels solid enough. Nothing really does after glimpsing her home be nothing but rubble and dust. She's now painfully aware of just how easily things can crumble around her. A sob builds in her chest, rising in her throat and making it feel more difficult to breathe.

But she refuses to let it out despite the painful tightening in her chest. They didn't have time for tears ( nor had she ever been someone prone to them when she was usually far too practical ) not when they barely had time for a rest. It had been easier in the mines, simpler when all they'd had to focus on was getting out. A single goal to fixate on without considering what came next. She been able to shift into what the others had needed her to be but now with so many choices to make she was overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. Daunted by what she would have to do when she doesn't even how they're supposed to survive when they're already exhausted, wounded, defeated.

Another sob threatens to claw its way out of her but it's choked back it when instead her breath catches at the sound of her name. A voice she'd recognise anywhere - Cael. It doesn't seem possible and yet she chooses to believe that it is real and not just some trick, if only for the flicker of hope that it kindles in her. Tired eyes dart around, spotting him running towards her and she's ignoring her protesting limbs once again to run towards him. The distance between them closes but it's not quite fast enough and Aspen practically throws herself the last few steps, bodies colliding into each other with a solid enough thud to convince her that he is real.

Arms wrap tightly around him as though she's scared that if she doesn't hold on tight enough he might disappear, taking with him that spark of hope she had been struggling to find on her own. Head stays buried in his chest, not wanting to meet his eyes just yet when she's almost certain that seeing her own grief-stricken expression mirrored back to his features would be too much. So instead she holds on to him and focuses on the sound of his heartbeat in the hope that it might drown out the rest of the world.

It's selfish of her. Out of character when she'd never been the most tactile of people and she generally never subjected Cael to her touch. Not when their first meeting was practically engraved in her mind. How they'd sat next to each other in class and how she'd been so curious about him. It was the way that he'd flinched when she'd gone to pass him a crayon she was adamant he needed for his drawing that had made her decide then and there that she was going to be his friend. She'd felt like he needed her and that had been all the motivation she'd needed. Now it was her that needed him.

She's not sure how long they stay like that, only that his heartrate has slowed and her own racing one had matched it. Almost reluctantly she begins to lift her head away from his chest but before her eyes move up to his face, gaze is caught by a bright red mark marring his shirt. "I got blood on you." The words are mumbled absentmindedly as she tried to rub the mark off, hoping that by some miracle wiping away the physical evidence might take away some of the horror she feels that this is their reality now. Blood and fear. Tears threaten again but she's not about to waste their reunion on tears. Lips press together as though she could wall in any sobs, gaze drifting over familiar features and comparing them to memory. "Are you hurt?" There seemed little point in asking whether or not he was alright when she already knew the answer.

[caelmellark]

I've always been dark With light somewhere in the distance

[caelmellark]

"Sorry, I forget that some folks actually like their parents," he replied with what could only be a dark chuckle, shaking his head slightly. He thinks it might be easier, that way, if he had loved his parents and all he was feeling was grief, as deep and unforgiving as it was. Maybe that was why he was so agitated, drowning in all he was feeling while still being unable to name his killer. Was it grief? Was it anger? Was it pity or relief or disappointment or loneliness or envy? "I guess you can take comfort in knowing it's an exclusive club," he said with a shrug. Cael wasn't an especially empathetic person, and as isolating as the thought that not many knew what he was going through was, there was a small comfort in knowing that not many had to go through the same.

He was taken aback by her next words, and he was immediately uncomfortable, and he found himself shrugging once more (a shrugging shrugger who shrugged until the bitter end, this one) and nervously cleared his throat before answering. "Yeah, well, anyone else would've done the same. Gale kept everyone fed with his huntin' skills, ain't much use for a baker out in the woods." he grumbled, eager to move on from the topic. Although he hated the next one probably more than the last.

"Yeah. If he ever comes back." he agreed gruffly, too embarrassed to be hopeful, too jaded to think that the world would do him this solid and give him back the one blood relative he had left in the whole damn world. Or perhaps, it would, just so he could tell him that he wasn't able to save the rest of their family. That'd be on par with the rest of the shit fate had dealt him.

Cael Mellark always managed to say the worst thing that he could to her. We're both members of the sad little orphan club. He wasn't wrong, she had been devastated to hear about Mr. Mellarks death and a little less sad to hear about Mrs. Mellark. She had been devastated that whenever they got Peeta back that they were going to have to tell him that his parents were dead, but he had Cael. Delly and Peeta had both lost their parents but still had a brother, although Peeta had also lost Rye. How was she going to tell him that? Would Cael be the one to tell Peeta everything when they found him? Delly didn't know.

Delly didn't say anything in response to his comment. What was there to say? She didn't want to cry in front of Cael Mellark. But then he apologized, which was unexpected. "It was," she agreed, stiffly. "But... I guess you're not wrong." Delly was an orphan. It still didn't feel real that her parents were gone, and she had to figure out how to handle raising a little brother. Dirk was only twelve.

Did Cael miss Peeta? Was he as worried about Peeta as she was? She knew that the Mellark family was complicated and that Cael hadn't been there for Peeta this last year, but he had to miss him. Right? "I... didn't get to say thank you for everything you did. I hear you helped Gale with everything after the um, the bombing," Delly finally said, feeling awkward. "Peeta's going to be so proud of you when we find him and bring him here." There, she had brought up the subject of Peeta. She suddenly wanted to desperately know what he thought about his brother's absence.

"This is just one of mine," She told him. "I'm trying to stay busy."

[caelmellark]

no rats at the legacy dance