hard to find // { lex + denali }

[aya]

[attr="class","Lex1Container"]

[attr="class","Lex1Title"]

what i feel now about you then
i'm just glad i can't explain

[attr="class","Lex1Content"]

It hadn't been too hard, for the most part, to put the 80th Hunger Games and everything about them out of her mind up until a couple weeks ago. So long as she kept her hands busy, Lex's head stayed on her shoulders right there in District Seven. Sure, she spent most of her free time honing her aim with the hatchet, with spent saw blades, with a couple of sturdy steak knives pilfered from the kitchen, with anything else small and sharp she could get her hands on. And — to Arthur's delight — the perimeter around the Lionels' property is now fortified with all manner of intricate traps she put together with scavenged branches, a knife, a rock, and the odd bit of wire. And then there were the occasional dinners at Mackenzie's that he made impossible to get out of. Annie's visit. The stack of small projects stashed under the market booth counter, put together for some of the other tributes. The box full of papers where she'd written down every stray thought that crossed her mind, each starting with Hey Freckles and ending with Yours, Lex.

Okay, so pretty much everything she'd thought, said, or done over the last six months was — in some way or another — directly related to the casual month she spent fighting for her life earlier that year. And here she is now, hauling stacks of ugly chipboard through the snow under the bleak skyline of District Eight, because it's clear enough that the Capitol isn't ready to move past it, either. Not that Lex particularly minds. When it looked like the last summer was going to be one fleeting chapter in her life — a series of stories to tell over drinks or a set of scars to show off if ever her badassery were called into question — she couldn't sort out how she felt about any of it. Lonely, maybe. (It wasn't like she was going to hunt Angel down to reminisce over... over what? The time she gutted the crass boy he'd been fucking?) Or maybe she was eager to move past this one terrible, public thing that had happened to her, yet equally unwilling to let go of her comrades for good. Was she just supposed to treat them all like ghosts? Was she supposed to act like they were still part of her life? But now, at least for this big Ratmas festival — complete with televised feast — it's straightforward: she's really fucking excited.

With most of the market booths setup and more trains full of visitors arriving by the hour, Lex's enthusiasm grows harder and harder to contain. Assembling the booths themselves is simple, boring work, and so her focus takes a joyride while she and Arthur secure a small truss to the frame of the booth they're working on. From her perch eight feet up, driving sixteen-penny nails into the top plate, she scans the rows and rows of finished stalls that stretch out through the snow, half stocked with all manner of goods: a stand full of flashing lights catches her eyes first, toys or trinkets from District Three most likely; there's some sort of fried dough on a spit rolling over hot coals nearby that; a team of two people carry a stack of long crates, right past —

Her heart hammers her ribs and her hammer hits her thumb, twin throbbing reminders about the dangers of distraction. She sucks a breath in through her teeth and shakes out the unlucky hand, scowling at the tool as if it's the one at fault here before returning her focus to the finished parts of the festival. The glare turns itself into a big stupid grin the second she confirms that, yep, even halfway buried in an absurd amount of fir boughs, there's no mistaking Denali Lyons. "Taking five," she declares, hopping down from the unfinished stall roof and stashing her toolbelt before Arthur has a chance to protest. Lex is practically jogging the way her long strides carry her through the snow, and not because she thinks her dad would try to stop her and put her back to work. She's been so patient for six long months and can't be faulted for her total inability to wait one more damn minute to see Denali.

Hellbent on closing the distance between them, Lex doesn't consider until it's too late that it's maybe not the best idea to catch someone off-guard with a great big bear hug, particularly considering the snow and ice covering the ground, particularly particularly considering that jumping an actual murderer is a good way to get stabbed, and particularly particularly particularly considering the cane in Denali's hand compensating for the wounds Lex remembers all too well, having put them there herself. It shouldn't come as a surprise to the Lionel girl that the former crew of the RLS Trolley Problem wind up in a heap in a snowbank — but even if she had broken character and considered her plan before she put it into action, her brain would still be too scrambled to come up with some better follow-up. It's a miracle in its own right when she manages to reign in her bigger, stupider grin enough muster an unapologetic "Hey, Freckles."

hard to find the national
table template lalia

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[L△LIA]

[attr="class","Denali1Container"]

[attr="class","Denali1Title"]

Your face is all that hasn't changed
You're reassembled just like me

[attr="class","Denali1Content"]

There's a wild shriek as Denali holds a pair of hand-knit rainbow socks up next to her little sister's outrageously colorful new earrings. "They match!" She cries out with equal parts cackling laughter and genuine enthusiasm, having intended it to be a joke only to discover that, oh yes, this actually looks fantastic! These are necessary. Turning to the owners of a booth that hasn't been fully set up yet, Denali flails the socks around, a suddenly desperate need for Rio to own them written all over her face. "Can I buy these or do I need to come back later? I know nothing is really open yet, but I — honestly — I can bribe you with ham? Do you like ham? Of course you do. What kind of heathen doesn't like ham. My Grimgram raises them herself and, let me tell you, nothing in this world tastes as good as a purebred pig that has spent its life happily frolicking through a forest and gorging itself on acorns." The rambling goes on and on and by the time she's paused for long enough to have it confirmed that yes, of course things are for sale, her sister has already wandered off to snoop around the other Ratmas booths being prepared.

"Rio?" Everywhere is the scent of fried sweet cakes and roasting meats. Everywhere is lovingly crafted jewelry, flower crowns, pots of honey, and landscape paintings of beautiful and faraway places. Everywhere is the sound of musicians bursting into festive song as a guitar encounters a harmonica and a trio of singers join in, only for someone else to begin drumming an accompanying beat on nearby storage buckets and tables. No one here is interested in patiently waiting to celebrate. Attempting to stuff the socks into a purse shaped like a golden present, there are too many (pilfered) freshly baked cookies stuffed inside for the top to latch shut. Interrupting her efforts, a stranger takes one look at her dress crafted from glitter and tulle and evergreen boughs — an outrageously over-the-top outfit that makes her look as if she's a Ratmas tree come to life — and takes her by the hand, twirling her in a spur-of-the-moment circle. Denali laughs joyfully despite being unceremoniously left behind by her sister, her nose crinkling as they spin. Everything is magic. There are countless reasons that this is her favorite time of year and the world around her echoes: Yes! Yes! Mine too! Mine too!

Nearly colliding with a crate being carried past, Denali's hand is released, but she continues spinning herself around a few more times out of exhilaration. When the world unexpectedly slips out from beneath her feet, sending her flying backwards into a snow bank, her brain tells her that she lost her balance on a patch of ice. Or maybe she clumsily tripped on the pine fresh hem of her skirt. Or maybe — "Hey, Freckles." Lex grins down at her, having tackle-hugged her to the ground in a messy tumble of impatience and unchecked enthusiasm. Pulse still reeling from the adrenaline of the fall, all Denali can do is blink stupidly at the girl sprawled on top of her, trying to catch her thoughts up to the events of the past thirty seconds. There is snow in Lex's hair and she automatically reaches up to brush it away, realization clicking into action as her fingertips touch the frosty patch of white on blonde. Screeching at the top of her lungs, Denali throws both arms around Lex's neck and attempts to one-up the wholehearted enthusiasm that landed them here, crushing her with a manic hug that desperately wants to compensate for their lackluster goodbye with a holly jolly hello. Countless reasons.

Plenty of sound leaves Denali's mouth, but little-to-none of it is anything resembling coherent. One nonsensical yell follows another as the Lyons girl smashes her face into the side of Lex's head and they roll around in snow... and glitter... and shed pine needles... and cookies knocked out of the present-shaped purse... and the smashed up straw remains of decorative ornaments turned casualties of their excitement. Bits and pieces of Denali's dress are scattered all around, but instead of feeling as if anything has been ruined in the slightest, everything just feels enhanced with ultra-festivity. "You didn't answer any of my phone calls!" She finally whines as the riotous laughter relents, jabbing an accusational finger at Lex's arm. "I missed you! I thought about you all the time! I wrote you letters! You wouldn't even say hi? It's like you don't like me back or something." Despite the way the tone of her voice is theatrically teasing, there's nothing untrue about her statements. Flopping back against the ground, the battery operated string lights braided into her hair blink cheerily at the snow. Flash-flash! Flash-flash! Merry Ratmas! Flash-flash! "I keep asking Mickey if maybe something happened and you're mute now, but nope! Here you are: Hey, Freckles," she mimics Lex's opening line, casual and low, with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Ugh. You're still so you." Resisting the urge to pout until an apology is offered — ha! Apologies from a Lionel?! — Denali picks a rat-shaped sugar cookie up from the snow and shoves it into her mouth, as if trying to eat her petulant woes whole. "Five second rule. Mmm. Want one, you antisocial loser?"

reunion stars

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[aya]

[attr="class","Lex2Container"]

[attr="class","Lex2Title"]

there's a lot i've not forgotten
and i let go of other things

[attr="class","Lex2Content"]

Tumbling through the holiday shrapnel and locked in an aggressive hug, maybe this is the only way Lex Lionel and Denali Lyons are capable of meeting one another. The war-screech of enthusiasm leaves one of her ears ringing, but this time when their heads are smashed together it's an eager embrace and the stars Lex sees aren't from a vicious headbutt. No one goes for the throat. No one goes for the heart. At last Denali relaxes her death grip without being told to surrender, seizing a break in the boisterous laughter to loose the grievance that's been pent up for months. "You didn't answer any of my phone calls!" she chastises, poking a stern finger at Lex. On the surface it sounds like she's teasing, but beneath the chiding the complaint feels genuine. "I missed you! I thought about you all the time! I wrote you letters! You wouldn't even say hi? It's like you don't like me back or something."

It's true that she made a point of missing dinner at Mackenzie's when the prospect of phone calls came up, but not because she didn't want to talk to Denali so much as that she didn't want to talk, period. Not on the phone. Not to Makenzie. Not to Arthur. Not to anyone. It was easier to sort out her head in relative seclusion, easier to talk sense into her stupid heart when it wasn't doing... well, exactly what it's doing now. Denali Lyons had been too many things in too short a timespan for Lex to have any hope of keeping up: from foe and hostage to reluctant landship-proximity associate and cautious friend, to someone who had her back... there was scrapping and crafting, stitching each other's wounds, sharing an impossibly hard time, and at some point it evolved into genuine caring... and all of the good was in constant contention with the mutual exclusivity of each other's victory. Then at last there'd been the dueling, the dying, the undoing. The very real prospect of never seeing each other again... Complicated. It was just so complicated. Given that — up until the announcement of this festival — the best hope for a reunion was winning the 81st Hunger Games, it really seemed like trying to put Denali out of her mind was for the best. She wanted to talk too much, and that's why she didn't.

It's Lex's turn to blink like a moron, ears burning — from guilt, from embarrassment, from everything complicated. "Of course I —" The feeble protest dies on her lips as her brain goes: Wait, like me? and Letters? and But phones all at once. "I keep asking Mickey if maybe something happened and you're mute now —" Lex snorts at how close that quip had come to being reality, wondering if somehow Denali heard about the incident with the peacekeeper and the yard traps or if she just knows Lex too well "— but nope! Here you are: Hey, Freckles," the impression is punctuated with an eye roll, and Lex does her best to look indignant about the spot-on impersonation. "Ugh. You're still so you."

She proves Denali right with a smirk and casual shrug: "Don't sound so disappointed about it." Pointedly ignoring the remark, Denali turns her sulking attention onto the scattered cookie pieces, plucking a delicately iced rat from the snow and shoving it into her mouth whole. "Five second rule. Mmm. Want one, you antisocial loser?" There aren't many situations in which Lex would turn down home-made Ratmas cookies (even off of the ground) and this certainly isn't one of them. "Obviously." She doesn't contest the name-calling, but instead clicks her teeth together in anticipation as Denali retrieves a golden triangle (or maybe a star with some points broken off) from the ground beside her. It feels like a trap — a familiar trap — and that's because it is: Denali waggles the cookie at Lex then jerks her arm away at the last second, cackling triumphantly as the blonde's jaw snaps shut on empty air.

"Don't tell me I'm bad at this!" Lex pre-empts the inevitable taunt, sitting back in a huff, snatching a fully-intact cookie shaped like a Ratmas tree from the ground beside her and deliberately decapitating it between her incisors. "Mmm. Yep. Good cookies." She shoves the rest of the tree into her mouth before swallowing her first bite. "Not even a little burnt. Which one of your sisters made 'em?" Wiping the crumbs off on her shirt and dusting the snow off of her pants, she hauls herself to her feet before offering a hand out to Denali. "Oh, except this one —" She stoops on the way down, plucking a goat with a broken horn and a crudely iced sweater from the snow. It's drab and olive where the colors have run together, with bright pops of vibrant purple and yellow and orange and green dotted in seemingly at random. "You must've at least decorated this one, right?"

hard to find the national
table template lalia

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[L△LIA]

[attr="class","Denali2Container"]

[attr="class","Denali2Title"]

All I want is one more chance
To be young and wild and free

[attr="class","Denali2Content"]

Somewhat appeased by Lex's obvious embarrassment over being called out for her unwillingness to answer a simple phone call, Denali tamps down her impulse to petulantly sulk for the remainder of their encounter and settles for exacting petty revenge instead. Offering up a star cookie that's only a little bit broken, Lex takes the bait easily enough that Denali finds herself wondering if the blonde is simply pretending to be tricked by the same old trap for the umpteenth time in order to make her feel better. Only, the frustration that follows the cookie being yanked away from Lex's open mouth feels genuine as she quickly snaps — "Don't tell me I'm bad at this!" — before the words can leave Denali's mouth. Either way, it's hysterical.

Shameless enjoyment fills the air as Denali bellows with laughter and tears prick her eyes. Waving the cookie around haphazardly, she doesn't bother feigning a second round of sincerity because even Lex couldn't possibly fall for follow-up pranking when there's absolutely zero composure to mask it. Brandishing the unclaimed prize proves to be just as entertaining. Pulling away in a huff, Lex lays claim to a different cookie from the snow drift and puts on a dramatic show of biting it in half. "Mmm. Yep. Good cookies." Denali only cackles louder, wrapping both arms around her stomach as the remainder of the baked tree is aggressively shoved into Lex's mouth. "Not even a little burnt. Which one of your sisters made 'em?" It's intended as a vengeful barb, but... it's too true and so Denali just grins and snorts as if it was intended as a mutual joke all along. "Oh, except this one —" Crouching down to pick up a goat wearing a teeny Ratmas sweater, the colors are muddled, but the care and effort of the detailing is still obvious. It's as impossible to tell what the pattern of the frosted knitwear was supposed to be as it is impossible to deny just how hard the person decorating it tried. "You must've at least decorated this one, right?"

Despite knowing she should deny any responsibility for such an ugly little cookie, Denali beams proudly. "My Grimgram really likes telling us all this old holiday tale about Ripred riding a chariot drawn by two goats to deliver presents on Ratmas Eve. My cousins, they have a goat farm and this year one of the kids was born with a splotch of fur that looks just like a rat wearing a Ratmas hat. Says that means it's destined to be a Julbocken that will help to pull Ripred's chariot." While it's difficult to tell if Denali finds the story, her cousin, or the baby goat having a rat-god destiny deeply endearing, it's obvious that one part or another of this is in the running for Cutest Thing of All Time. "To be fair, the goat really does seem incredibly interested in making sure that all Ratmas preparations are done correctly. It bleats like crazy if an ornament falls off the tree or if there's a door without a wreath on it and things like that. So anyhow," leaning forward to point at the teeny hot mess of a sweater the cookie is wearing, "I knit the goat a little Ratmas sweater that looks just like that. Ginny says I was too impatient and the cookie hadn't cooled enough yet when I tried to frost it, but see? Right there —" Enthusiastically gesturing at a runny-looking sort-of blob on the sweater, she glances up at Lex to attempt to gauge if she actually does see it or not. "— that's where I knit the mark of Ripred wearing a Ratmas hat and these kind of purple and yellow and green bits are the sort-of fair isle pattern on the sleeves and..."

It's not very good. Some part of her knows it, but... "Um. I dunno. The goat is around here somewhere — she's really good at smuggling it around — so maybe you can meet it later and then you'll totally see what I mean. Yeah." Studying the cookie for another moment, she shrugs the weird feeling of flustered pride off and reaches for a different one shaped like a present, the impeccable lines of the ribbon piped out with almost mind-blowing precision. There's nothing imaginative about the design, but it's still undeniably perfect, despite taking a tumble in the snow. "My mom baked them. I was gonna help, but even my trying to cut them always seems to end up with dough sticking to the cookie cutters. Seville did this one," she sets the present cookie between them and picks up another one shaped like a house, covered in pastel rainbow swirls and edible glitter, "and this one was definitely Rio." A wreath-shaped cookie is next in the line-up, the colors bright and a little bit unexpected, but lovely. Sprinkles are dotted throughout in a complicated pattern implying lights and ornaments, the whole thing tied up with a lively bow. Beside it Denali sets a dinged up bonfire, ferocious with twisting lines of color piped out to form the flames. "Tallulah always spends, like, an hour on any cookie she decorates... I feel kind of bad about dropping that one. It's pretty, right? And Ginny calls dibs on all of the fire ones. Even if hers aren't good Lulu will always fix them up for her, but if she's in a bad mood then she just frosts everything solid black and there's not much anyone can do about that."

Lining up little trees done by her mother and birds decorated by her father so that he can have an excuse to name them after her — this one is Birdie and this one is also Birdie and, oh you'll never guess, but this one is — Denali offers the assortment to Lex. "You probably shouldn't eat that one," she self-deprecatingly jokes, chewing her lip as she nods at the goat in the other girl's hand. "I like the goats and the rats and, well obviously, their sweaters, so..." Most of the rats are also wearing bright little hats that coordinate with their Ratmas sweaters if someone squints and tilts their head a bit to sort the muddled colors out. "You can avoid those if you want. Which one do you want to trade for?" She asks, reaching out to take the cookie from Lex's hand in exchange for someone else's handiwork.

reunion stars

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[aya]

[attr="class","Lex3Container"]

[attr="class","Lex3Title"]

if i tried they'd probably be
hard to find

[attr="class","Lex3Content"]

It's hard to keep up the veneer of indignation over the baked-good fake-out, not when Denali's fully howling in hysterics about the easy success of her usual tricks. Soon enough, Lex finds herself laughing along with gusto, broad smile mirroring Denali's. Six months and all the hundreds of miles evaporate between them, visibly exhaled into the frosty air with the deep, steady attempts to regain composure. She doesn't bother wondering if it should be harder than this, picking up right where they left off — not pretending that time hadn't passed, but not pretending like that should make things different, either. More than anything, it's a relief that though Lex can spend all the time she wants back in District Seven stubbornly pretending that nothing has changed since the 80th Games, here with Denali it's as though nothing at all has.

Grin confirming Lex's guess that the wonky icing job is indeed her handiwork, Denali launches right into the cookie's backstory in District Five Ratmas lore. It all sounds a little crazy compared to the holiday traditions she grew up with: the only goats that factored in didn't pull Ripred's sled — rather, that was a duty reserved for the elk prince, with the garland-trimmed antlers — but instead were responsible for herding up the misbehaving children and getting them lost in the forest. They were also part-demon and preferred tailcoats to sweaters, and when she was small Lex used to wait up near the windows at night, thoroughly convinced that her year's worth of antics had earned her a spot in the caprine kidnapping.

"So anyhow—" Lex blinks, focus snapping back to the present "— I knit the goat a little Ratmas sweater that looks just like that." It's one thing to bite back the taunting Oh yeah? I bet it does look just like this. but Lex can't fully suppress the accompanying smirk and snicker. It isn't from a place of scorn or criticism — just that, with all her first-hand experience watching Denali's improvised crafting projects in the shade of the redwoods, Lex feels like she already knows what her attempts at knitting look like, and yep: they match the cookie. An impatient hot mess of equal parts enthusiasm and determined frustration. Dropping the impishness from her expression, she wonders if this is what the fearsome wealth duo looks like in their post-arena life: swap thread for yarn and redwood for basswood, the yoga mat for a shaker tilting chair and the basket of the landship for — Lex imagines — a gilded overstuffed chaise in front of a fireplace, replace fending off constant mortal threats with more normal-sounding jobs and hobbies and call it good.

"But see? Right there —" Denali points at the cookie in Lex's hand, trying to give her a rundown of what the different smudges of icing were intended to be. Brow furrowed in attempt to pass her inattention off as deep concentration, she follows Denali's finger across the various dots and smudges, giving her a firm nod when their eyes meet. Yes, I've been very seriously paying attention to your cookie this whole time, and I totally see what you mean now. Lex Lionel caught daydreaming? Never. "And... Um. I dunno. The goat is around here somewhere — she's really good at smuggling it around — so maybe you can meet it later and then you'll totally see what I mean. Yeah."

"Yeah," Lex agrees. "I'd like that. It'd be nice to meet your — I mean, little Ratmas goats obviously — but if your family's here, that would be, um." She clears her throat, not knowing how better to end the thought. It would be nice to meet some of the family that she's heard so much about already. Part of her curiosity is slightly morbid, but it's not like Lex has any concept of what's normal when it comes to family. Is it weird to want to meet the people that Denali fought so hard to go home to? Maybe not, not when Lex's interest is rooted in the way that that they're important to her. She flashes an awkward smile, defers the conversation to Denali's rundown of who designed which of the cookies that spilled into the snow. Varying wildly in precision and artistic flair, the remaining shapes are neatly lined up in between them, a neat row of options for Lex to choose from.

"You probably shouldn't eat that one," Denali nods at the goat still delicately clasped between Lex's thumb and forefinger. "I like the goats and the rats and, well, obviously, their sweaters, so you can avoid those if you want. Which one do you want to trade for?" The redhead reaches for the goat with the wonky sweater, but like some sort of hold-over reflex from all those months ago, Lex pulls the cookie away and tucks it into the pocket of her shirt before it can be reclaimed. Like a polaroid or a paring knife, it goes next to her heart with other things she'd rather keep for herself. "Oh, no, no," she laughs, taking Denali by the expectant hand instead, "I'll take this one." She rightens herself and hauls the other girl to her feet, still grinning when she asks "You'd tell me if you poisoned that one, wouldn't you? You've had thousands of opportunities to kill me and only did it the once, so... actually, I don't hate those odds."

Lex might've stood there for hours without realizing it if it weren't for the small flock of cuckoo clocks chiming from a nearby booth. "Shit." She sucks a breath in through her teeth, trying to guess how long her five minute break actually lasted and wondering if dragging it out further would be worth the extra chiding once she returns. "I've got to get back to work. Arthur's going to be exasperated with me, I left him up on the roof holding a truss in place — someone has to get the booths built, we've been here for a week already doing setup, which I think I already..." She frowns, trying to place the memory of having already told Denali this, which can't be right because they haven't seen each other and Lex has made a point of avoiding phone calls. "Letters! I've got some of those for you, too. We should have the rest of the booths done this afternoon, um..." Faced with an ever-growing list of things she's trying to say and under the pressure of a past deadline and subsequently mounting future consequences, Lex's thoughts knot themselves up. "Meet me, uh later, I guess... somewhere?"

hard to find the national
table template lalia

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[L△LIA]

[attr="class","Denali3Container"]

[attr="class","Denali3Title"]

All I want is one more chance
To show you you were right for me

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"Oh, no, no," Lex laughs, tucking the goat cookie — flaws and all — into her chest pocket for safekeeping. Instead of bartering baked goods she takes Denali's outstretched hand in her own. "I'll take this one." Familiar grins are traded as Lex casually assigns worth to things Denali would have given her a free pass to belittle, the Lyons girl's self-confidence about her craftsmanship as scattered as her emotions tend to be. Despite the banter, the action of keeping feels like a compliment. This ugly, slightly broken cookie has more value than its much prettier counterparts. It feels extra nice coming from someone so quick to judge things on their objective quality, be it with ten point scales or rigorous rounds of testing for concrete proof. "You'd tell me if you poisoned that one, wouldn't you?" The cookie is not throughly investigated for its ability to resist breakage or given a definitive rating based on the joinery of the various frosting colors; all Lex asks for is Denali's word that it's good. "You've had thousands of opportunities to kill me and only did it the once, so... actually, I don't hate those odds."

Helping Denali to her feet, they stand hand-in-hand for a prolonged moment as Denali forgets that there was a — perhaps legitimate? — question in there, smiling idiotically over having her ugly goat cookie validated by the best craftswoman she knows. "Shit." A riot of cuckoo clocks squawk a reminder to Lex, her expression jolting with sudden realization as Denali's brow furrows in confusion. "I've got to get back to work." A small whine of disappointment rumbles in the back of Denali's throat as Lex sucks a breath of slightly-panicked air through her teeth. "Arthur's going to be exasperated with me, I left him up on the roof holding a truss in place — someone has to get the booths built, we've been here for a week already doing setup, which I think I already..." Frowning in unison, Denali wishes she'd have tried harder to convince her parents to take an early train here instead of being so easily persuaded by reassurances that there wouldn't be anything to do until the market booths were built, so there was no reason to be so over-eager to get to District Eight. Maybe if Lex could have just answered the —

"Letters!" Lex abruptly cries out with enough emphasis to cut Denali's spiraling thoughts off before she can slip into another round of petty sulking. "I've got some of those for you, too." Just like that, Denali's smile returns, beaming with excitement. Letters? Her automatic assumption had been that the blonde's resistance to one form of communication meant resistance to all forms of communication. The idea that she did think of Denali a couple times over their months apart, that she missed her enough to make note of it, that she allowed herself to create legitimate evidence of missing Denali buoys her spirits immediately. "We should have the rest of the booths done this afternoon, um... meet me, uh later, I guess... somewhere?" Unshakable work ethic pulls at Lex, straining the hold of their hands as she begins taking a step back, despite their lack of an actual plan.

Tightening her grip so that Lex can't slip away again without confirmation that yes, this time she will actually agree to Denali's last second proposal. "There's a bakery a couple blocks north of the market — with mini pie flights — that I was planning to go to later on today. You could come too? At six?" Chewing her lip over a fluttering of her nerves, she flicks her eyes to the clocks, wondering if this is too impulsive of her. "Unless that's a weird thing to ask?" Maybe asking Lex on a mini pie date is awkward... maybe this is the wrong thing to do... maybe this is a mistake. Releasing her hand, Denali stutters with a beat of nervous laughter, scratching at a spot behind her ear as she flicks her gaze to the sky, suddenly too embarrassed to explain herself properly. Never having been on a date before makes it hard to know how these things are supposed to work. In any case, it feels too late to take it back and it would be nice if Lex came... right? "So um. Have fun with your... your truss... trusses? Trussing? And I'll — uh —" Turning on her heel before Lex can ask why she's blushing and stammering, Denali makes a break for her family's own booth, waving a haphazard hand in the air behind her. "I'll see you then!"

reunion stars

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