#perfectaches: hazelle hawthorne.

[angerend]

closed for: @perfectaches / hazelle hawthorne. location: the capitol, caesar flickerman's afterparty.

The image of bloodshed replays in Lavender's head, all knives and unfortunate death. You'd think the scene that unfolded tonight would bring a sense of misplaced triumph, the rebellion pulling off something so direct even at an event like this. But Lavender feels as though all they're doing is pointing a metaphorical finger. As if that's ever gotten anyone anywhere. We're pointing out the obvious, she remembers saying to her fellow rebels, what more could this do? Perhaps the broadcast will still ruffle some feathers, maybe now that much was certain after it's been done, but the party persists. People still clink their glasses and make faces at one another as makeshift endearment. And Lavender still feels angry, the memory of Mira brought back to the forefront of her mind after their successful display of anti-compliance. And maybe, in hindsight, her subtle distaste for the plan was made semi-selfishly. She couldn't think of Mira anymore. Not now, anyway, and all this did was bring the thought of her back to Lavender in the worst way.

That leads her here, on the balcony that she thought would be empty. No, she would never escape the likes of Capitol folk. No matter what, all of them and their pristine feathers, comfortable compliance, and riches will remain. When she turns her gaze away from the sky and spots Hazelle, her bad mood doesn't flinch. In fact, it sours, a certain kind of bitterness rising to the surface.

"Is that what you make of your fate?" Lavender asks, grabbing hors d'oeuvres from a passerby waitress holding food on a glimmering silver plate. Lavender shoves the whole thing in her mouth before speaking again, "Just another death on the screen?"

[incaensio]

setting : after the reaping for the quell, in the train to the capitol. with : hazelle hawthorne @perfectaches

as always, the cameras seem to be voracious for her, but, as always, katniss refuses to feed them and, as soon as the tributes are ushered inside the city hall, the mentors are guided to the town cars to the train. she tries to remember how many minutes the tributes have for their final goodbyes, but the thought only brings more tears to her eyes and she sobs in the brief privacy of the car — prim had sobbed when they said their goodbyes, exactly a year ago, and it still feels like it had not been enough. darius had been generous then, too, but katniss knows none of thread's men will be, which means hazelle will barely get time to hug her boys, kiss her girl, pass over the mantle of the house chief entirely to gale.

tears are whipped furiously before she steps out of the car with a less than friendly face, walking so fast neither peeta nor haymitch will be able to reach for her. she does not need their words, and she can not bear them either; she needs the silence, the privacy. selfishly, she wishes she could not think, but even as she smushes her face against the impossibly softness of her bed at the mentor's quarters, katniss knows she can not afford that. just as she had entrusted gale with the safekeeping of her family last year, he had put his last hopes on katniss so she could keep his alive. only she hardly feels as competent as gale had proved himself to be; she feels useless and hollowed of everything but guilt and sorrow and paranoia. how many times has hazelle hawthorne’s name been in that bowl? for all purposes, hers could have been the only name there, lilian's a too obvious pick, but an aunt was anonymous enough to be thrown into the lion's den, a casualty too unfortunate for anyone to pick on — only they wouldn't pick at it as if it's something bad, but an exciting turn in the games, a method to gather more betting, more viewership.

katniss has to drag herself from bed in a hurry to throw up. she takes the opportunity to shower, punching buttons that have begrudgingly become familiar and letting the water wash away any sick, all the makeup and the tears that are stubborn and refuse to stop falling. only when it feels there's no way her body can produce any more moisture is that she leaves the bathroom, putting in the most comfortable thing she can find in the drawers. her hair is still dripping when she exits the mentor's rooms, but her face is as fresh as it can be — she can hope it won't be horribly swollen for the next close up when they arrive at the capitol's station — and katniss decides that this is not the worst hazelle has seen her (if anything, it is somewhat similar to those days she had been a teen filthy with mud and leaves, and the hawthorne matriarch smiled as she told katniss to scrub the blood under her nails too) and that she doesn't care about anyone else right now.

she can't tell if she's missed lunch, but she doesn't find anyone else around the cars, and the first face she does come across is just the one she is looking for. hazelle looks out of place here, and the thought is enough for katniss to feel a new surge of tears rise up to block her throat, even if she had just convinced herself she had cried herself dry for this. fuck, she bites back the cussing as she approaches. "where's everyone else?" she chances a glance to the side, as if everyone would materialize. they don't, which katniss is thankful for. she doesn't need any audience, not from the old nor the new addition to the district twelve team. "have you eaten yet?"

[fatefought]

where: district thirteen

when: day six

who: hazelle hawthorne & haymitch abernathy ( @perfectaches )

posy is poking at haymitch as he stands in the hawthorne family quarters. she's running around with a load of energy ; abernathy cracks no smile, merely exists. he doesn't mind it. being around those from twelve has been mixed in the last week. he can deal with happy. eventually, she runs off stating she's going to find cael mellark. what an odd occurrence. but as hazelle's youngest wanders off, eyes turn to the statuesque woman. she's an old friend, but her reaction could be anything. will she be happy that he aided in getting her out, or feel betrayed that he never told her going in ? what about gale, who he helped recruit for all this ? however she responses, hazelle is right for it.

abernathy isn't one to physically fight anymore. he's tired, and that's before they stuck him into sobriety here. she can add more markings to the one her supposed niece scratched onto his face. " haze, i can't believe your the victor of the quarter quell. how's your tour been ? " this a dash of humor that has been void in his tone the last week. he might be pushing his luck ; from the deepest depth of his core though, he's relieved she's alive.

[dellcartwrights]

Setting: District Thirteen infirmary @perfectaches

Even though Delly didn't really have any medical knowledge, she still volunteered to help out in the infirmary. With so many patients between the bombing victims and the rescued tributes, they needed all the hands that they could get. She did things like make bandages, keep the patients company, deliver meals to the patients, and some very basic first aid under the watch of the nurses and doctors. She figured that eventually they would kick her out of the medical ward and take in people that had more medical skills than her, but for now, it felt good to be busy and to help the people from their district.

When one of the doctors told her to go and check on Hazelle Hawthorne, Delly felt her stomach flip with nerves. Even though she had never met Gale's mom, he had told her so much about her, and she had spent so much time watching the Games, watching out for her that she almost felt like she knew the woman. It seemed important to her that Hazelle liked her, but she didn't know why.

She carefully approached the woman and froze for a moment. "Hi, um, Mrs. Hawthorne? My name is Delly and I'm here to check on you. How are you doing? Can I get you anything?" She hoped that Hazelle couldn't tell that she was nervous.

[devynshaw]

Setting: Arena for the 75th Hunger Games, Night 2 Who: @perfectaches - Hazelle Hawthorne

Devyn had been trying to lay low for most of the first day in the Arena. Anytime she heard voices nearby or rustling of leaves in the trees, she ran in the opposite direction. Her speed was always an advantage for her; if she needed to, she could run. Of course the more she ran, the more thirsty she was. The Arena was hot, the trees not providing much relief from the humidity and muggy air. She hoped to find fresh water soon; her last option was heading back toward the beach, back out into the open.

First, she had wanted to find the District Twelve Tributes. If there was anyone she felt she could trust in the Arena, with the exception of Discord, it would have been Chandler and Hazelle. She hadn't gotten to talk with either of them much, but she had talked with Katniss about them, and Devyn was willing to form the small alliance so they could get further through these Games.

Finding them was proving to be quite the challenge, though, especially with how large the Arena was. Not to mention the seemingly hidden challenges within; the first thing Devyn encountered aside from evading other Tributes was the blood rain. Amara from District Six had also been caught in the rain and they had managed to find shelter for the duration of the grotesque downpour.

Tired and warm and covered in crimson, Devyn made her way through the jungle, weaving through the trees and trying not to think about how dry her throat was. She was tired, she would probably need to find somewhere to rest soon. The rustling of leaves stirred her immediately from her thoughts and she tensed, eyes darting toward where she heard the sound.

[angerend]

Lavender wasn't a prideful person. She especially didn't take pride in the life she currently leads. A life that promised the prospect of death at any moment. And perhaps she's become okay with the idea of dying just as Hazelle has, but something about the other woman's acceptance of death bothered Lavender. To her, there was an evident difference between being okay and accepting. Sure, it was a fine line, but to Lavender acceptance went hand in hand with compliance and Lavender was the farthest thing from compliant. At least in the eyes of those that "mattered".

For a change, Lavender sheds her usual cold exterior, warming under the guise that maybe this display of rebellion has startled Hazelle in a way that Lavender should be empathetic towards. So, she sighs, leaning against the elongated balcony, swallowing her mouthful of fancy food. "You're allowed to be afraid." The raven-haired woman settles on, her gaze surveying Hazelle's expression. Mira was always better at this type of thing. She could picture it now. Mira would extend a hand and rub the shoulder of those distressed, her sweet honey-like voice arriving like a sense of newfound relief. While Mira was a relief, Lavender was a knife cutting the tension. Both were useful but starkly different. "But don't let fear diminish your will to fight, Hazelle."

By some miracle, the balcony where they stood begins to empty. Loud music and chatter sound from the ongoing party just feet from them. "Breathe." Lavender says through the noise, nodding to Hazelle, "Breathe. It looks like you're holding your breath. Don't be arrogant, everything is inevitable no matter what. Just take a breath for now before you turn purple." Her head cants to the side before speaking once more, "Have you spoken to Gale? What's his stance on all of this?" Of course, Lavender already has a baseline idea of what Gale was thinking tonight. But she also has a feeling Hazelle may need to release her thoughts and free them from the cage of her mind.

Hazelle's spent most of this party trying to get away from it, despite the Capitol's best efforts to suck her in. The shock of the Games montage and Gale's reaction to it left her reeling — not because she's angry at him, but because she fears for him, as she always has. They're all in over their heads here and all Hazelle wants is for her family to be safe. But there's something happening that she can't stop, Hazelle's seen it unfurling since they whipped her son in the town square and if she's really honest with herself, she's seen it long before then too. But it's all too much for her, it's too difficult to understand when she's already been trying to come to terms with her own death sentence the last few days, so she sneaks away for some much needed fresh air and a chance to let herself breathe.

But she's not alone out here, and she shouldn't have expected to be. Hazelle's known Lavender for all of one week and already she's already got a bad taste in her mouth for her, and the woman doesn't seem to like her very much either. Callousness has never shied Hazelle away from anyone before, but this woman is on another level with her sharp version of greeting that cuts deeper than it probably should. What ever happened to a simple 'hello?' "Shouldn't I?" A scoff leaves her, out of place in the opulence that surrounds them — but this is what the Capitol gets for allowing district people into their mix. "Don't know what the hell else you think I'm supposed to make of their little highlight reel. Seems inevitable just from that."

[incaensio]

setting : hazelle's room in the penthouse, after caesar's party. with : hazelle hawthorne ( @perfectaches )

she's more exhausted than she has been in days — since the reaping, when she had cried so much it actually hurt to blink — but the conversation at the rooftop only left her more aware of tomorrow. opening day at the games is exciting for capitolites, but katniss feels just as rotten as she had felt last year, when she hadn't slept a wink. even if she's not the one being thrown in the lion's den tomorrow, she doesn't think she will sleep this year either, so she sends peeta off to bed first and goes down the hallway of the smaller bedrooms, to the one she occupied for those days when everything changed last year.

hazelle won't be asleep, of that katniss is certain. so she knocks once, before opening the door (the way it opens, instead of locking the tribute in, is further proof that this tribute is not asleep) and letting herself in. nothing has changed in the room, as far as katniss can see with the light dimmed and, for some reason, this only worsens the anxiety in the pit of her stomach. "are you asleep?" a futile question, but she utters it regardless; silence would mean hazelle has decided to ice her out, which would be fair considering katniss has avoided her throughout the night, instead of trying to offer her any advice about that horrid scores (but what was there to say? she can't say anything nice when hazelle won't have anything nice in her short foreseeable future). it is their last time (probably ever) together, though, so katniss has to at least try.

[incaensio]

setting : district thirteen hospital, mid day four. with : hazelle hawthorne (and her 80 children) @perfectaches

she's not yet discharged. the toll of the encounter with gale and hearing about the horrors of what happened to twelve and that only six hundred people — less than ten percent of the smallest district in panem's population — have made her head spin again, and rory had been tasked with getting her back to her private room in the hospital, along with prim. they don't put her down for good — it seems mother's presence here is more comforting than she'd like to admit — but the drugs in her system keep her groggy and she passes out. it's not really sleep, and she's glad for it, because she doesn't think she has the energy for nightmares. she also doesn't want to terrify the people that seem to be sitting by her side when she opens her eyes. 

this time, it's vick. he's unlike all of his siblings, and he's grown into a proper teenager since her first time going to the capitol; it's odd to see these kids she saw grow up, now at proper age, reaping age. he's changed into the jumpsuit that seems to be the uniform of this place and, if she remembers correctly from the tour she received just this morning, he's of age to join the army training. the horrible reality of it all is so sobering she almost wants her sedatives bag to be replenished, but someone else walks in and both patient and visitor looks up with recognition. lilian has already settled in, despite the likelihood that she, too, has been working non stop in those woods for three days, and had been overworked with those several teenagers in her house for a week before that, while worried for her eldest child and new son-in-law and friend's life, away, in the capitol. behind the haze of the drugs, katniss feels a reignited sense of sympathy and sorrow for her mother. they're only not the same now because lilian is useful here, and katniss is not.

lilian tells the both of them hazelle is awake again, and she has checked her vitals and they have spoken. that makes vick leave at once, and katniss can not blame him for dumping her deathbed in favor of his mother's; she's itching to do the same, after all, but katniss' own mother keeps her a moment longer, looks at her vitals, removes the IV drip, draws blood and, somehow, finds a moment to braid her hair in a way that had once been comforting but, now, katniss doesn't think she feels much. she's cried herself out, and the meds numb the anger, so lilian receives the third remaining emotion usually spared to her: apathy. she releases her to join the others still in recovery, and they go together to the greater rooms, where more people are located.

there's still a lot of people from twelve around, and some others that aren't in the gray outfits that makes her confused, but her gaze finally falls on the bed with seemingly the most people. gale is not there, but posy is lying above the covers with her mother, while the two boys surround the bed, prim also in gray clothes inspecting something on hazelle's body. katniss finds, as she approaches, that the subject of attention is a big sewed up spot in her arm where there was once a oozing gash, and before that, a tracker. the victor's eyes widen as realization sinks in. someone cut that out of hazelle — who? devyn? amara? 

"who did this?" katniss asks, cold fingers touching the protruding thing on the matriarch's arm. prim begins to speak, but katniss cuts her off, alarmed to see that hazelle's torso is all patched up, kept away from her eyes. "what is that?" she had kept herself from televisions that last day, after the president announced as clear as day that hazelle wouldn’t make it regardless of her efforts. “how did they try to kill you?” how are you still alive? hangs in the tip of her tongue.

[fatefought]

@perfectaches sent: ❛ we’re gonna survive this, right? ❜ hazelle + haymitch

the penthouse feels less like a temporary residence and more like a prison. the other inhabitants might change, but haymitch always comes back. it's crickets right now as most are sound asleep. with his boats of insomnia, this is a night he's indulging his vices. ( what day is he not though ? ) he's content in the silence that lingered between them. he hasn't spoken much with hazelle since she's been in the capitol. katniss has taken the reins of mentoring the female victor. he's been aiding peeta more. though bias is in hazelle's corner ; he has no ties to the unlucky townie after all.

" have i been known to lie to you ? " additionally, the victor hardly fluffs up his tributes in the last fifteen years. what's the point ? hawthorne had seen him drenched in his own vomit, barely coherent, and deep in depressive episodes. to sugarcoat for the woman would be nothing short of a dismissive backhand. " you might actually be royally fucked. "

[fatefought]

@perfectaches sent: ❛ what do you want from me? ❜ haymitch + hazelle

" god haze, i don't want anything. " their tryst was a moment of loneliness. haymitch won't say weakness, at least from his end. there wasn't regret there. intimacy on a fundamental level was ... enjoyable. he won't feel pretend to feel bad about that. the only awkwardness is in the few days past now that hawthorne was here for business rather than a nightcap. which he had attempted to postpone, the moral greyness of that left something to be desired.

god, did she think he was looking for more ? hazelle was a recent widow ; he was a figurative widower, at least it felt that way in regards to minerva. he knows deep in his core that she doesn't need that, same as she doesn't have to worry about him possibily pinning after her. they shared depression and despondency, not a connection outside of friendship. " we don't even have to talk about it. " he'd much prefer it that way. " you can head home if you want, or you can join me for a drink. i promise there's no strings attached. "

[dellcartwrights]

Setting: Caesar's after-party, Pre-Broadcast @perfectaches

Even though Delly had been in the Capitol for a few days, it was still so overwhelming, all of the lights and the people and the food. And Delly had always been lucky that her parents were able to provide for her and her brother growing up. She couldn't imagine what it was like for the people from the Seam that didn't have enough food. For the first time, Delly wondered why it was like that. Why didn't the people in the Seam have enough food? And then here in the Capitol...they had so much.

But Delly was also grateful that she was there, that she could be there to support Peeta. There had been a time when she had thought that the only way to get to the Capitol was by being reaped since nobody volunteered in Twelve. Well...besides Katniss. But now here she was, a lottery winner, and she felt grateful for it.

But then her eyes fell on Hazelle Hawthorne, who was standing very close by, and Delly felt her stomach turn uncomfortably when their eyes met. Delly had always said hello to Hazelle when she saw her after Peeta got with Katniss, but she didn't actually know her. And now she was a tribute. Somehow it felt worse for a mother to be a tribute than someone like Katniss.

"Hi," she greeted. "This place is crazy, isn't it?"

[fatefought]

@perfectaches sent: ❛ what are you doing here? ❜ hazelle + snow

intention laid with every one of the president's decisions. to be wasteful is to be unwise. originally he had made his rounds to the twelveth district to meet with one katniss everdeen. the bursts of rebellious fuses throughout other districts were in direct relation to her. ( to a small extent peeta mellark, but that boy was more more a puppet than a mastermind. ) the girl on fire was elsewhere with her fictitious significant other ; neither are very gifted thespians, so he must assume the painter is blissfully unaware still. so instead, he makes himself at home at haymitch abernathy's residence.

a chuckle escapes him at her brash comment. coriolanus was sitting on the one chair not coated in a dust of filth. posture was as proper as ever. the woman's entire aura is seam. he can smell it long before it became important to know who katniss associates with. though he faced momentary sightlessness to the poverty stricken area in his youth, the reality is that it's a wasteland. at least some townies served a purpose.

" miss hawthorne, " it's ever polite. he had known her before the interviews ; seeing her eldest speak however, made the political figure want to shoot one of everdeen's arrows directly into that thick skull. " haymitch is expecting me. he didn't inform me he'd have other company though. my apologies if i startled you. " it's a blantant lie. his security did notify him that mr. abernathy was out buying more adult refreshments. the president intended on surprising him.

[subsiist]

The Game isn't fair, but since when has it ever been? Honestly, Chandler has been more annoyed than he has been afraid this entire time. He ages out, thinks he's safe, and then this fucked up clause comes out? It's bullshit! He was supposed to have lived a long life in Twelve where he'd never have to see the mines. Where he'd inherit his family's fabric store and marry some girl and have some kids and just be normal.

Instead he's a fucking tribute in a fucked up game with a woman who has a million kids back home - meaning if he wins, he'd be creating a buttload of orphans and Gale Hawthorne would kill him anyway.

It's maybe why he tells Hazelle to shush because he's going into the Career's camp. If he's going to die, might as well die a hero, though he doesn't exactly have a wish for it. There's only one of them up, whittling a stick into some sort of bladed-thing (freaking fuck, do Careers learn about weapons in school, while Twelve was learning coal or something?), and Chandler moves around the tree he's sitting at to try and snatch a bit of food from the rest of them sleeping, glancing back at Hazelle with his finger to his lips as he goes.

@perfectaches

where: career pack's campsite

who: chandler ( @subsiist ) & hazelle ( @perfectaches ) & ezra

nightfall had landed over the arena. the districts of one, two, and four had formed an alliance. it's easier to navigate the arena with a larger group. it also means he cannot escape the blood. some of his peers are grizzly, and he isn't guiltless in this. abel's blood clings onto his hands, even if it's been washed away. after dealing with feral monkey mutts and sheer pain inducing fog, the lot is tired. they set up camp, and establish a night watch system. the night is still early, but klair takes the first watch. he can see it in the eyes of those with him: equal parts hunger and exhaustion.

domitila had been right to nudge him to eat more. he's hardly satiated but he's not starving. too much is going on the arena for him to think of eating. some fresh water however ? that would be refreshing. he leans against a tree for now. everyone seems to be sleeping soundly. he's relieved nobody has stumbled in yet. the more people stay away, the greater that tribute's chance of leaving the arena. boredom does take him somewhat, so he's been busy whittling a stick with one of his blades. it's quiet, other than sounds of nocturnal insects.