kill her freak out | ryan

[goat]

God, did Birdie envy these people. Her affinity for jealousy had waned since she was younger, as it does once you realize big houses and fancy meals come second to staying alive, but she imagined it was so much easier to stay alive here. Easier to breathe with the salt air in your lungs, easier to reach the age of eighteen when you knew you’d have a league of gladiators ready to volunteer for your reaping spot.

Birdie had been a lot of things, but she’d never once been easy.

Anatalia Morrisen had one of the larger homes in the Victor’s Village. Birdie glared up at it from the swath of sand between it and the rumbling ocean. Mayor Annie, she thought, rolling the vowels beneath her tongue. It was so silly. She wondered what was so wrong with the girl to make her want to play president with the same government that sent her to die.

It probably didn’t matter, considering nobody really died that games. Annie didn’t have much to worry about then. It wasn’t like she’d won the games the following year, where the Capitol threw away their labyrinth and their tech and let everyone who died stay dead. Annie got to play killer, and everyone else got to play victim. They’d never get an ounce of pity from her, and she didn’t care if it was cruel to think that. She would’ve taken a zombie daughter over a dead one.

Birdie kicked the sand off her boots before rapping on the door with her knuckles. She’d never been to Four before. It was grittier than she imagined. She wondered if Annie was actually doing anything for the people who lived there, though she wasn’t quite sure anymore if it was possible to enact change through the same systems that sent children to die. She loved her brother, for the most part, and she loved Vasco, but she was starting to think their faith was misplaced.

She knocked on the door again, then tried the handle. It popped open with a hearty click. Birdie stepped back, then looked around. It was just her. No prying eyes. As she turned back to the house, she took a deep breath before nudging the door open with her shoe.

The doorway spit her out into a dining area. The lights were on, dinner was set. It was like a dollhouse. Birdie laughed softly to herself, imagining Annie playing pretend with herself and her housekeeping. She stepped further inside and dragged a hand over the back of one of the chairs, the wood smooth, over polished.

When she looked up, there was a figure in the distance. She assumed it was Annie. It was her house, after all. She’d surely want to know who came in. Or broke in.

Semantics.

“You should probably lock your door,” Birdie said. “I’m sure there are a lot of people around who aren’t very happy with you.”

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

Annie has spent a good amount of time focusing on the district. Trish and Axel do not spend too much time at home anymore, and Angel was usually off trying to find himself. There was literally nothing that he could do to upset Annie. Annie on the other hand, had to have some sense talked into her. She was no longer just a victor of the district, she was the mayor as well.

Sometimes she did wonder if it was a mistake.

However, that was no important tonight because she actually did feel like she did enough to keep the district in good graces. She had been able to provide a steady amount of work for the fishing industry, and people from the capitol had been clamoring even more for fishing exports since they found out a victor had been leading the negotiations.

Annie yearned for the day she could just disappear from the spotlight. It was counterintuitive ironically. The last thing that she should have done was become mayor of the district. Annie though, was not scared of a challenge. She just worried about her family trying to take advantage of her status. She barely saw anyone now a days, so she never entertained the idea longer than she needed too.

She had dinner prepared for a small crowd. She wasnt sure who was going to be joining her today, the usual person was always Angel, but Axel and Trish did pop in from time to time when they werent making trips to the capitol. It was weird having celebrity relatives. Annie though did not put to much thought into it, because the capitol always moved on to the next thing. Once the games started, reality show contestants were not as important as the tributes. Trish was out of the games, Axel on the other hand? That would have caused quite the stir.

Her cook put the last bowl on the table, she had been on the deck, trying to take int he sunset as it was starting. She noticed that the waves were slowly crashing in a melodic tone. She took a deep breath as she kept her back to the door, wondering when everyone would start showing up.

She heard the front door crack open, her ears still keen as ever. She felt a sort of relief to know that someone was joining her. However, the sound coming through the house was not one that she recognized. The wood creaked a certain way that did not sound like any of the footsteps that she recognized.

She then heard a voice in the doorway, and it was the sound of someone slightly older than her. She pursed her lips for a moment before she heard the woman speak. "Ha." Annie said, keeping her back to the woman. "Thats nothing new." Annie shook her head and turned around to see a rather regal looking woman standing in front of her. "I welcome them with open arms at this point." Annie smirked as she took a seat at the table. Annie had always been reckless with a cause. "Care to join me stranger?" Annie motioned for the other to take a seat, some company would be good for her.

Stranger or not.

[goat]

“I welcome them with open arms at this point.”

“I’m sure you do, considering how little danger you’ve actually faced.”

At Annie’s gesture, she took a seat, crossing her legs and resting her chin in one hand. She’d painted her nails on the train ride over. They were pink, opalescent. She felt stupid. She didn’t know why she’d done it. It was one of her less damaging impulsive thoughts, at least. She could imagine worse things than looking stupid.

“Sorry, I’m being so rude,” she said, though she didn’t care about being rude at all, especially not to a person like this. “My name is Beatrice. You don’t have to tell me yours, I already know it.”

Birdie didn’t quite understand this version of herself yet, the version that broke into people’s houses and introduced herself with her given name. Not that she’d ever understood herself. Besides, somebody had to do it. Her family had settled into complacency, content with sitting down and shutting up as time went on and political careers drew to a close. Their children were still dying. Didn’t that matter?

“You might have heard of my family. The Hopes. A lot of us are dead. I’m not really here about that, though. I want to talk about you. I want to know what could have possibly possessed you to become a dog of the state. And I want to know how open you are to suggestions.”

She smiled, all sharp teeth, running her free hand over the edge of the nearest glass. It seemed easily breakable by the right fist. “Do you have any wine?”