(Untitled)

[whowasonfire]

The weather is beginning to cool in District Twelve. Katniss is thinking about clothes - not the things Cinna dressed her in in the Capitol, but real clothes with thick heavy fabric that will keep her, her sister, and her mother warm this winter. This is the first year that they can afford all new things if they want. They won't have to trade

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[whowasonfire]

Katniss is still in the doorway, trying to register and comprehend what she's seeing. She had some berries out in the woods earlier; she knows the plants around District Twelve like the back of her hand, but is it possible that she made a mistake? Ate something hallucinatory?

But she knows what hallucinating is like. This doesn't feel like it at all.

She glances toward the guy addressing her. She doesn't recognize him.

"That depends," she says cautiously, "on what 'here' is." Admitting ignorance is admitting weakness, something Katniss is loath to do, but this is so far beyond her frame of reference that she can't even begin to guess at a more appropriate reply.

[whowasonfire]

The only books Katniss has ever read were the ones required for school - bland and government-approved. She may now have the time and money for pleasure reading, but she'll never have the inclination.

(And the fiction allowed in Panem isn't exactly up to Douglas Adams standard, anyway.)

She shakes her head in answer.

[says_the_booyah]

Cy sees a face he hasn't seen before. But he's the friendly sort.

"Hey."

[whowasonfire]

Katniss blinks a little at the cybernetics, but doesn't comment. He must be from the Capitol. The robot look could be the new style there, for all she knows.

And it's not exactly her biggest concern right now.

"Hello," she says, short and guarded.

[says_the_booyah]

"I don't bite. Or fire lasers. Really." Funny how people here seem so unused to a cyborg. He's been here for months.

[whowasonfire]

"What are you doing in . . ." She pauses, catches herself. This doesn't look like it's her house, even though she can't think what else it might be. The Capitol could replace it if they wanted, and might have reason to after the Games, but not this fast. And definitely not under District Twelve's noses - someone would have seen.

". . . here?" she settles on.

[a_lioness]

With newcomers, there's always a risk their immediate reaction to finding themselves at the end of the universe will be to reach for a weapon and brandish it threateningly until someone assures them they are safe. This is one reason Alanna tends to find a seat near the door when she's on duty.

Today, 'near the door' can be defined as just beside, perched on top of a table with her sword across her lap. She's giving the Yamani steel blade a good polish. Her eyes flick to the door when it opens, and she sees the girl reach for something and come up empty-handed. Having been in that situation herself (albeit for vastly different reasons) a time or two, Alanna huffs out a quiet empathetic breath.

"Hullo," she calls out after another moment, voice raspy.

[whowasonfire]

The sword makes Katniss tense further in preparation for flight. The last time she laid eyes on a stranger bearing a weapon, it was in a situation engineered to ensure that she and that stranger would do their very best to kill each other.

The only thing that keep her in place is the woman's stance. She's in a good position to jump from the table, but she shows no sign of intending to do so, and Katniss knows that right when you're planning to use a weapon isn't the best time to be cleaning it.

She stays in the doorway, though, poised to slam the door and buy herself a second or two to run if she has to.

"Hello."

[a_lioness]

The tension is not missed.

Alanna bites down on her lower lip and holds in her next breath, going still, watching the girl closely. The rag she'd been using hovers over the sword. If she's reading the situation right, sudden movements might be a bad idea.

She blinks at last, deliberately, and lowers her voice: "It's all right."

[whowasonfire]

The tension doesn't ease, but nor does Katniss run. For a split second, she's almost inclined to laugh; the woman's voice reminds her of Gale during hunting, calming an animal not quite dead as he moves in to finish it off as quickly and mercifully as he can.

If the sword weren't a factor, though, maybe it would be a little more like her mother at work, talking to a frightened patient.

"Is it," she says, not quite a question. "All right" is not the first phrase she would have chosen for finding what looks like a restaurant where her house should be, facing a woman holding a sword.