Do enough good {Fiona/Quest Post80th}

[*]

Fable had came to my rescue almost immediately the day I returned from the games. Something about his presence seemed to calm such a depression that had taken over. Once I had returned home, I had found out from my neighbor that my grandfather had passed away the day I left for the reaping. I never got to say goodbye, neither that day nor when I came back. Healing had to take place and even today, it's still a day to day task. Fable's love though is ever strong for me. On the days when I wake and he's not beside me, his arm draped across my waist, I feel the sinking moments of dread. The house is riddled with the ghosts of my family looming and my grandfather's restless spirit makes the dreams come back all too real.

The games tore my soul away from it's physical body. It maimed my heart in many ways and even though it's the only year tributes came back from them, I wish that I had been given the opportunity to escape into my grandfather's arms once more.

Today, I had been given a gift from Fable, one that will ultimately lead to more healing. Two years have passed now and only recently has the games just passed on. A new victor had been named and her name is but a mere impression of those twenty three destined to die. "They were able to die - what a feat that would have been." My voice echoes through the quiet house and lights flood the room with a simple click of the lamp. Dimensions of my room seem small and askew from only having a single line of vision. The capitol had done with they could, but spared nothing to make sure my life would be back to normal. A patch to cover my eye was the best that they could do.

"Fuck them..." My hatred for the capitol never ceased but as I pull my pants up, fastening the button, the pass from my pocket fell to the floor. My picture looked back at me ever so quaintly, yet no smile could be detected. It was me, but not the way I remembered myself. The face was thinner and missing something that I took for granted. I hated the way I looked now. The remaining eye had seen so much that it no longer had that glint of life. The only thing that was given back to me was the gift of two prosthetic fingers from the girl who had taken them from me in the first place. It was a gesture that was greater than the capitol ever could do. Bette was indeed a welcomed circumstance from the games.

I still send her letters once in a while just as I did with Faux from time to time, but those letters always came with a delayed response time. I guess it is to be expected considering the injuries he had taken.

The darkness in the house stood with me as a friend until reached the front door, a small overnight bag packed with a change of clothes hung at my side. Unlatched and then locked, the sunshine barely began to peak over the next house and my trek to the train was now my next adventure to overcome. I've not stepped near the trains since I had came back two years ago.

"She doesn't even know I'm coming." Curiosity becomes me as I grow closer and I look back to the house and snapshots of the reaping come into view. It hurts to think that two years ago, I left my normal life and came back broken and dysfunctional. "I wonder what she's doing with her life."

The breath hitches in my throat as my hand grips the handle and pull myself inside. Comfort is far from my liking but with the absence of peacekeepers, escorts and stylists, my mind settles down as I sink into the nearest chair to the window. My bag is placed in my lap, hugged against my body as the train starts to move. "It's not going to the capitol." I have to reassure myself as a man sits beside me.

"Fiona, am I right? Do you mind If I keep you company?" His voice is deep, dusty from age and it momentarily makes me escape the horrid past wanting to replay itself.

"Of course, please. It will be very much appreciated. Thank you." I flash a smile to him and breath easy now.

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Quest Hertz

I think I was supposed to fade away and never accomplish anything, right? My ethos always screamed ‘do dumb shit and then die’, which, well, remains to be seen. But I’m still here, two years on.

The whole point of the eightieth and being brought back was that we got some sort of second chance after all of the horrible shit we had to go through, so – yeah, it’s a wonder that most of us are still alive, as is. I for one had put a few choice words into the heads of the reporters that kept asking me, even as the eighty-first was roaring, what I thought of the tributes.

‘Boring.’ Even as what’s-his-face managed to live a little bit longer and talk all sorts of trash.

He didn’t come home though.

Time was funny. I shouldn’t have been surprised at folks’ attention spans. When these games were getting started there really wasn’t much attention paid to me. At least, I think there may have been some dopey reporter that stopped in the bar and asked a few questions. I honestly hadn’t paid much attention to what the hell was going on anyway, so it didn’t really matter to me. I offered him a drink (which he still had to pay for because I’m not made of money) and he started telling me about how these kids were a strange batch and I just… couldn’t be bothered?

I mean I get that I’m supposed to be happy about the fact that I came home, right? Like I’m not supposed to bite the hand that feeds me. I was lucky as fuck to have been one of two kids aside from Teddy to make it back to the district. That’s incredible. Granted at the time I wanted to die so it actual was my nightmare to have to come back here, so that part kind of sucked ass. But time heals, or some other thing Gayle the Snail says when she’s on her fourth scotch.

Take, for instance, the fact that after I got back from the eightieth, even after looking like fifty miles of bad road, every single girl wanted a piece of me. And we’re talking all sorts of – girls that I don’t think would’ve ever known I existed from the circles we ran in – and then my face was plastered all over, and it’s like I can’t not give them what they want. I mean these girls are practically begging me to take them out on a date and force them to pay. They get wet just seeing me walking on the street with my headphones over my ears, trying to make sure that the wind doesn’t flatten my hair. It’s really quite a service I’ve done for a number of ladies in the community. I’m like sort of a living example of charity.

But yeah – he took some notes and drank his drink, and then told me that I probably wouldn’t be featured, so I just shrugged and told him that was fine. Fame wasn’t something that I was fighting for, not since I started picking up business with the bar. Seemed like an honest living, to be able to come into work and enjoy what I was doing.

Sure the place wasn’t exactly up to code. We had a bit of mouse problem a few months back that only resolved itself because I wound up buying a couple of cats to take care of it. And then we had a cat problem because I needed to buy and change their litter boxes so this place didn’t smell like cat shit and piss all the time. But I have to tell you, it was the greatest investment I ever made in my entire life. Shenanigans and Mr. Gus are like the children I never plan on having. They’re the family that should’ve been there through my childhood. Even my own brother Ether recognizes that I would literally kill for them. So I guess this is to say, don’t fuck with my cats.

Oh – and that this place is kind of a dump, sometimes.

I’ve done better though, at least this year. Fixing up the stools and reupholstering the booths. Refinishing the floors and making sure the lights don’t make the place so dingy. Serving more than just bottom shelf crap out of plastic bottles. I even have some folks coming in on the regular to get drinks. But none of those fruity fucking cocktails. That shit’s reserved for when I’m not in charge at the bar, which is literally only Friday nights, because I don’t fucking trust anyone to really run my bar.

I guess you could say I threw myself into it. I didn’t really have anywhere else to go after I left my father’s… I thought about staying with Mayor Bloom but that ship was never really sailing off with me. It was probably better that I managed to get some kind of loan from Teddy. I guess he’s not so bad, though he could still have been a better mentor. Wilfred had taught me all I ever needed to know about fighting anyway (who else could’ve held their won against Lex and Denali, hmm?).

Part of me thinks if I had more of a selfish bone in my body, I might’ve been able to have come back without it having been that whole necromancy bullshit.

But that’s just the thing, I think. Looking back and wondering what it was that you did and could do are always a lot clearer than when it’s happening. That girl two years ago had no clue what she was getting into raising her hand and putting herself into those games. You can’t say it wasn’t brave, but you also can’t say that it wasn’t stupid. People do a lot of stupid shit when they’re trying to run away from things.

Ether was the one that came along to nudge me, little nuisance of love that he is.

He was behind the bar, because I sometimes let Ether behind the bar when I need someone else to have their eyes on this place. He’s turning into a good-looking young man. Hard-working, too. He lives on his own, the both of us divorced from the shitbags that raised us. Not with me, because I don’t want to live with anyone ever the fuck again if I don’t have to. But he’s off doing some young man nonsense with his little friends. You know it, boys with their dicks out laughing about how much they can drink and what’s like, totally cool bro.

But I guess I’m sort of proud of him. Being absolutely heinous skipped a generation with Hertzs, I think.

Anyway, he was standing there behind the bar and going on about how he thought I should want to be famous, because it would be a lot better of a life. Especially since I didn’t have to travel every year to the capitol.

‘You have built in notoriety, and you’re just sitting on it!’ He says, like it’s something that I want to use. And I get it, there’s that temptation. But I don’t want to be hounded by people, or stand up on a stage. I mean, if it was for my music then maybe, but it’s not as though I’m going to get called to go to the capitol in one of their clubs. I’m stuck here in the wasteland of district six, and I’m learning to make the best of it.

But he did get me thinking. There’s things that I love about owning a bar, and one of them is a good glass of beer.

I mean, I don’t really drink too much, if I’m telling the truth. Getting wasted is not particularly my style (if I can help it). But helping other people get wasted, and by extension, earning more money for myself? Now that was speaking my language. He told me about how he could get some brewing equipment real cheap if I wanted to try and make something. And I thought about it for all of two minutes because, well, why the hell not?

We started brewing about six months ago, and while the first three batches were watered down piss, the fourth and fifth ones actually came out as real ale. You know, the kind that you could serve to someone and they’re not going to politely sip before leaving half the glass on the counter? That good. I called them Quest Ales, because I’m simple and want my name on whatever I’m selling. And then of course he suggested I get some kid to draw my face on the label (because an actual picture of my face might be a bit harsh). Before I knew it Quest Ale was selling out in the bar, and then I had other bars in the district asking me for batches.

When the trade visa opened up, I started to put two and two together. You didn’t have to be a genius to know that you could make a lot of money if you branded yourself the right way. It would mean actual work, which kind of sucked, but then there was the chance of traveling, which I couldn’t turn down. I got to be alive and travel, if they approved me? Seems like I made out with the best possible case scenario in my favor.

Now granted, things weren’t entirely smooth. Filling out an application, and then getting heated with the visa person after them telling me ma’am, you can’t put “Quest motherfucking Hertz” on your application was not a good way to go. But I still managed to get that stupid little stamp that meant that I could travel for work or business purposes. Which meant that I was going to bring Quest Ales to all of panem. When those suckers needed to drown their sorrows after their kids died, or something like that, then they could just throw back one of my creations.

A part of me wonders about the others, from time to time. Shy, who talked to me on the phone now and again. Could see him and make sure he hadn’t turned into a total loser. Maybe see where Carmen lived, all those fields, rolling hills, and nature (on second thought, probably not). See if Fiona’s holding up.

But even when the application comes back approved for a business visa for Quest Ales (I’d sent several cases to the visa office, just as a reminder), I don’t plan anything. It’s three months on and I keep picking up the papers and putting them in different drawers, or underneath papers. One time I slipped them into Ether’s pocket while he was taking a nap and accused him of stealing them.

So I spent that afternoon with a cigarette and my own grizzly picture on the visa staring back up at me. The bar was empty, so I had the wonderful opportunity to sit amongst my own thoughts.

Great.

Sometimes even with all you’d think you could want, there was still plenty missing.

[*]

His name was Eustis. His dusty voice settled over me like a gentle snowfall as it blanketed my heart. Serenity formed over my senses and calmed me along the tracks. I had no choice but to fall into the grand imagery of his family and of his destination to come. We were both heading to district six for completely opposite reasons. He had trades to set up and I was there to set up my trade, whatever it might be. Fable's gift to me sent me on this journey and for the first time I didn't feel completely lost without out. Instead, I felt informed and secure almost as if this gentle soul was summoned from my own grandfather.

"Looks like we are here, Fiona. It was a pleasure. I hope I'll see you on the way back. I'd like it if you'd join me and my family for dinner one night when you are settled back in our district." I nodded to him and as the staff came through our part of the train, the passes were checked before we had exited.

A breath a different air met with my nostrils. The pungent odor of knowledge seeped through the differences of the district. They seemed a lot more put together and not over ran with poor. I watched Eustis get off the train and gather his bag. My vision didn't saunter away from him immediately and as I took two steps into the new territory the overloading fear of seeing Quest emerged without a hitch. My heart stammered and I began to wonder what I would find when I looked her in the eyes. Would she betray what we had in the arena? What we had in the vault after death consumed us but the capitol delivered us from the great captor?

"Hey Eustis." I called out and waved back to the elder man and retraced my steps to stand near him. "Do you mind if I tag along with you until you get where you are going? I'm afraid I have no idea where I'm going and to be quite frank, I don't like being alone. The games..." I started to say but he held his hand up in front of me.

"No need to explain miss. We all have a history that sometimes wants to sneak up and take us prisoner. Come. Walk an old man to the other side of town. If you find who you are looking for you just go right on a head." He took my hand, patted it and then began to walk without another word.

The town itself was without a doubt amazing. So different from the factories and whatnot of nine. It's people seemed to be busy with their lives and the quest for a certain person was everlasting it seemed.

"So this young lady you are looking for, is she a friend?" He questioned as we stopped into a shop.

"Yes. Well, I guess you'd call her that. Its someone that I briefly knew for a short time. We were in the same arena three years ago." It was then that I saw he understood who it was. He nodded. "I'm looking for Quest."

The name must have caught the attention of the shop and everyone finally started to see the stranger as someone else. My name began to flood the room with whispers and not so quiet voices. I was hardly a celebrity, just someone who died and was forced to keep living.

"Looking for Quest you say? She's not far from here in her bar. You can't miss it, Fiona." A woman's voice called out and a hand was placed upon my arm for a moment initializing quite a shock at first. From my blind side, she almost sent my hand punching in her direction. Stammering heart, she released her hold and apologized.

"It's... okay. I just, sorry. I'm still jumpy I guess." Yet she shakes her head and points down the street. Eustis gives me a thumbs up before going about his business. "Thank you for everything. I'll be looking forward to that gathering. Good luck with your business you have here."

My exit was uneventful except for the multiple stares and the whispered words. A few people came up to me, greeted me while others stood their ground from far away. It was like I had just gotten off the train again right after the games. I was the new hot commodity among the people. Gracious smiles were given though when there was a young girl that had given me a hug. She looked to be the same age as Carmen was when we were in the games and my heart sank. I still needed to see how she was fairing.

As soon as I had turned the corner down the street, her bar came into view just as the lady had described. It looked small, but loved. It was also void of people which made me question the likelihood that it was even open.

"Don't hate me Quest for taking so long to visit." I mumbled under my breath and placed my hand on the door. It opened without trouble and as the light poured in, I could see the bar was indeed empty except for the sole victim inside. I stood there taking in her silhouette until the door shut and the room returned to normal.

"Quest? They told me that I'd find you here." My voice quivered for all of a moment before I found a slight trace of happiness returning. "It's been a while. How are you?"

Fiona: c98667
Others: 887268