sixthiterationlogs | Hold On to This Lullaby, Even When the Music's Gone

Entry tags:

Hold On to This Lullaby, Even When the Music's Gone

WHO: Peeta Mellark and YOU
WHERE: Inn and Bakery
WHEN: May 7-10
OPEN TO: Anyone who wants to contribute to the records
WARNINGS: None at this moment, but he's still got a broken leg. Will change if it does.
STATUS: Open

It's taken two weeks for the medical people to feel comfortable letting Peeta leave the hospital since the supplies available in this place were so... primitive, and they had to be sure his leg was set properly and his ribs were mostly healed before turning him loose. But two weeks was all he could take in a bed, and he suspected they wanted him and Katniss out of their hair, so at that time he's given clearance to leave and permission for light duty to let him relieve some boredom. His return to the bakery and the inn is without fanfare, just him showing up one day to help Jacob and Miss Kate, trying to return to his normal duties in baking, cooking, and caring for the burgeoning garden behind the bakery. But two weeks without much movement has obviously robbed him of some of his strength and stamina, and he's moving slower and having to take more breaks, not to mention having to sit propped on a stool to keep the weight off his leg, since it's hard to cook, bake, or garden while standing on makeshift crutches.

Fortunately, he has another project to help with that, one he began technically before the attack. Digging in the storage room at the inn one day had turned up some blank, unlined books and some sets of drawing supplies, and he'd grabbed them all without remorse. Remembering the Everdeen family book he'd helped Katniss expand on while she was recovering after her misadventure with the fence, he'd planned to start turning these books into something similar: guides to plants and maybe animals in the area, with notes on what they could do in medicine, or for cooking, or if they were poisonous, and a sketch of what they looked like to guide unfamiliar eyes. He'd started planning it out before the attack, and now he could actually get going on the project, as long as people were willing to contribute what they knew.

The second book would be a little different, though. He'd heard about how people could disappear from this place by now, witnessed it once or twice, and so the second book would be a record of everyone in the village. A sketch of the person, their name, and a general description of them - just something to remember them, to prove they were there in case they vanished. Almost a memorial without the death. He'd begin with the faces he knew from home - himself, Katniss, Johanna, Finnick, Annie - and slowly expand to others around them and maybe even people who'd disappeared before he'd come and had never gotten to meet. Anyone who wanted to see him work on the books or contribute anything to them could approach him and ask questions or volunteer knowledge, since he isn't exactly hiding what he's working on. He can be found at the tables in the inn or the bakery sketching and writing, with a piece of charcoal from the fire to rough sketch unfamiliar plants (or faces) on the table so as not to waste precious paper or pencils (and a wet rag to wipe away the lines, don't worry Kate). Anyone who stops to look will immediately be able to tell he's a talented artist even with minimal supplies, as his drawings always look lifelike and almost as though they're about to jump off the page.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Beverly gives Peeta a couple of days to settle back into a routine of not seeing doctors before she tries to find him. She doesn't want to worry him or make him uncomfortable to see her, but she does want to check up on him every so often to be sure the pain is being managed all right. As best as possible. It won't be perfect without an osteo-regenerator, but it'll be as good as can be.

She happens upon him while he's working on the plant book, able to see that he's concentrating on something important. Making sure she doesn't startle him, she smiles as she approaches, even as she glances down at the book.

"Working on something important?" she asks gently, figuring that would be a good lead-in before she asks how he feels.

Peeta isn't like some of the people around the village, in that he's able to tell when someone's approaching, and is especially not able to when he's in a creative fugue. So it's good that Bev takes the time to not startle him, because he's adding a page to the book that he doesn't want ruined and if she's surprised him, he likely would have jumped and smudged it all.

But that doesn't happen; instead he looks up at her voice and gives a quick smile to her even as he continues to outline the mint leaves on the page. That one, at least, he's familiar enough with that he doesn't need to always be looking at it to add small details. "Maybe - I'm making a book about the plants in the area and what they're good for, so people can learn about them. We have something like this at home, and I thought it'd be useful to replicate it here."

It's such a good idea, but one that so far hasn't crossed her mind. Beverly looks briefly startled, though she nods as it quickly turns to a look of approval. She's honestly a little sorry she didn't think of that sooner. Whoever came up with it, it's still a good idea.

"I think you're right," she agrees easily, glancing down at the plant Peeta is putting some touches on. She examines it, watching him work and taking note of all the details he's putting in. Apparently, he's a really good artist. Talented. "Especially if there are any poisonous ones out here or others that should be avoided. The last thing we need is a rash of poison ivy sufferers."

It wouldn't be the worst thing they've dealt with, she would imagine, but honestly she doesn't want to have to deal with all the people coming back multiple times because they scratched the boils and made it spread.

"That one's mint, isn't it?" She indicates the one he's currently working on. "You're really good at this."

Katniss' father is the one she should thank, or should if he were still alive. Peeta hadn't known about it either before Katniss had shown it to him while she was injured and they'd started working on expanding it. It'd been the first thing they'd done simply together, without the shadow of the Games over it, and one of the only sets of good memories since the Reaping.

"I'm going to put those in, too. In the back, so people won't think they're edible or something, they're separated out. I'll describe what they do if people eat them or touch them." At least then, if people read the book, they'll know what to look out for.

He nods at her guess, since he hasn't yet put words to that page and the leaves are all there is. It's a good indication that his plan is working, and that his art is good enough that it will actually be helpful. Peeta knows he's good, but knowing that and having it actually be useful are two different things. "Thanks - it's just something I've always been able to do. Might as well do something with it, right?"

“This is all a wonderful idea,” Beverly says with no small amount of approval. It’ll be good to have all of the plants available here in the village and the valley around it with descriptions of what they’re good for or what they might do if they’re bad to be around. Especially if they really do have things like poison ivy, poison oak, or poison sumac around. The last thing she wants is to have to deal with a rash of those (ha ha) while their medical supplies aren’t exactly up to snuff.

“I’ve just found a box of seeds that I’m hoping to plant either by my house or in a greenhouse at some point,” she continues thoughtfully. “Once they’ve bloomed a bit, I’d love to have them added to the book, if you’re all right with that. All of them have some kind of medicinal property or use to them, everything from sleep aids to muscle relaxants to things to calm the mind.”

"Yeah, sure, that sounds great. It shouldn't just be things that grow around here, since we're growing things ourselves." Peeta himself had gotten a box of trees, sort of, that Bev probably remembers - while most of those were obviously for food, there were other uses than food for them, especially for the herbs. The rosemary would really help drive out biting insects once he got it big enough to cut sprigs.

He chuckles a little, shaking his head a bit at himself even as a new idea comes up. "Maybe if I find another book, I should make a book of recipes - I don't think most people here know how to work with this level of food supply."

“If it’s growing around here at all, I would think it should have a page just to be sure no one misuses anything,” she points out. “Some of these seeds grow into plants that are toxic if misused. I wouldn’t want someone to accidentally take one on the assumption that anything growing by a doctor’s house is good for you and instead poison themselves.”

She doesn’t think this group would do something like that, but at this point she would much rather be safe than sorry.

An echoing huff of laughter escapes her and she nods. “I think you’re right. A lot of us seem to be used to more or different varieties.” And that’s not even counting the people like her or Nerys or Julian who are used to replicators, although Nerys at least lived on Bajor during the Occupation. She knows what it’s like not to have much of anything or to have to fight for what she did have.

"Yeah, I've seen some things like that. Katniss' mom is- well, she's not a doctor, but she's kind of our medic. She treats injuries and stuff like that, and some of the things she uses can be dangerous." Mrs. Everdeen gets the really severe stuff from the Capitol, in limited quantity, but Peeta's also had immediately first-hand experience with plants looking pretty but being lethal. He'd really rather not repeat that.

Continuing to sketch, he also continues to speak - it's like his hands know what to do without his brain telling them anything, and he doesn't make a mistake or smudge the drawing. "We don't have a lot back home, so we have to make do with what we can find. Reuse things and stretch them out as much as we can. Miss Kate knows a lot about that, but I don't think pretty much anyone else does."

"I think a lot of life can be classified like that," Beverly admits. "Best if used by a professional." The trouble is that there are so many professional something but no one who is a professional everything that it's hard to trade off. Still it's better to have people who are great at one thing rather than good at everything and great at nothing.

Despite everything she's seen, she's impressed by Peeta's skill. In a way he reminds her of Wesley. So good at so many things. Brilliant in his own way. Her smile turns a touch sad as he continues, though. Given her talks with both him and Finnick so far she knows there are worlds that don't have much, but to hear it spoken is... disheartening. She wants better for them.

"No... I don't think we do," she replies, obviously including herself in that one. She knows she's privileged, but sometimes meeting other people and cultures really hammers that one home.

It's been real lonely at the bakery without Peeta around as much as he used to be, especially when those boxes of goodies turned up and he didn't even have someone to turn to, in order to share the excitement with. Still, Jacob wants to put the goods to use, and when Peeta leaves after one of his short shifts, he starts to bake a small batch of his Nana's paczki's, using some of the fillings and getting a half dozen of them glazed, powdered, and smelling like heaven. It takes everything in him not to eat them, but he manages.

Lucky for him, Peeta didn't go very far today and even though he'd tried to keep what he's doing a secret, seeing as the smell had probably drifted down the block, but he'd insisted that Peeta pretend that he doesn't know what's happening. Only when he's ready does he turn up with a plate full of sweets. "I figured after everything that happened, you deserved a little goodness," he admits.

If it made it any better, he hadn't meant for this to happen? He feels guilty leaving Jacob to do everything by himself even if there just isn't a whole lot to do with the bakery considering the lack of materials they're working with at the moment, but there isn't anything he can do about it.

That smell is indeed something he can't ignore, and his natural baker's interest is aroused because he hasn't smelled anything like that before. It's sort of similar to some things that had been prepared in the Capitol and on the Tour, but it's nothing he recognizes just off hand and he's very interested in investigating it. But whatever it is, Jacob's clearly wanting to make a Surprise out of it, and Peeta's amused enough that he's willing to let him. Since the day's nice, he's only retreated as far as the porch of his house, where he's working on those books on a small table he and Katniss had pulled out to a spot in the sun. When the plate plunks down in front of him, he looks up in surprise, and then grins. "Is that what you've been working on?"

"Yeah," he agrees, his smile sunny as he basks in the way the weather seems to have turned a little warmer. He's watching Peeta with a hopeful look, knowing that it's not gonna cure him or fix everything, but that doesn't matter. After all, maybe sometimes, all people need is a little hope and brightness in their day.

"They're my grandmother's recipe," he shares, "I figure, it ain't gonna heal up your bones, but maybe it'll make you feel a little better."

It's a kind of horrible thing, really, that in a lot of ways he prefers being here, in this village, than at home. He hasn't really come out and told a lot of specifics about his life yet, even if he's mentioned specific things about the Capitol and the Games to a few people, but life here is actually a lot easier for him in so many ways. Maybe they're being watched, but it's not by peacekeepers who are likely to shoot on sight. There's no absurd laws here to stop people acquiring enough to eat. The work is hard and supplies scarce, but not more so than everyday life is in District 12, and no one's starving on the edges of the streets as you walk by. People help each other, are concerned for each other, and do their best to make things less horrible for everyone. Mostly, at least.

Jacob is honestly one of Peeta's favorite people here, which isn't because he spends more time with him than anyone other than Katniss. It's because Jacob's just so easy, so open and friendly. It's impossible not to be happy around him most of the time, and Peeta's not going to argue when Jacob offers him a new thing to taste. "Thanks. Come on, have one with me if they're your grandmother's." He knows all about family recipes: a lot of the ones the Mellarks use have been handed down for years, and his grandfather taught him a lot of what he knows about baking.

Peeta picks up one of the thick, doughy pastries and doesn't hesitate to bite into it - though he nearly drops it when he realizes how heavy it is. He chews and swallows with due attention to tasting what Jacob gave him, and when he swallows he grins at his 'partner.' "This is amazing, Jacob. What are they?"

Jacob's stomach growls when Peeta makes the suggestion (the one that Jacob had been kind of hoping for, truth be told, seeing as he's starved at the best of times and this place isn't really good for three square a day). He sits and starts to break it down into bites because doing this like it's Mardi Gras isn't gonna work. Stuffing it in his face and trying to eat as many as possible sounds like a plan with a bad ending.

His grin is bursting with sincerity when Peeta tries one, the reaction worth every single ounce of effort he put into 'em. "I mean, they're really just donuts," he admits. "But the fillings and the lard and the glaze, you mix 'em together and it's so bad for you, but they taste so good."

"Donuts, huh." That's something they don't have at all at home. Some things he'd tried in the Capitol, on the Tribute train, and on Tour were similar, but being able to eat this one without any kind of horrible situation hanging over his head made it taste so much better than anything he'd had in any of those cases.

He's thinking he should start offering some kind of lessons in how to get by on very little supply in the way of food, though. Most people in the village now just didn't know how to survive on the gleanings that foragers and hunters found, and he'd been learning how to make do since he was born.

"Probably shouldn't eat more than this one, they're so heavy it'd probably make me sick." That had been a real concern in the Capitol, since he and Katniss just weren't used to the kind of rich food they were provided as Tributes, and overeating yourself into sickness was a bad idea going into a Game. "But I'm really glad you did this, it's great to see what you can really do." Peeta ends with a smile that's entirely genuine and another bite into the paczki, chewing slowly to savor it.

"Yeah, my grandmother had this incredible recipe that I've been making since I was a kid. It's pretty much the only thing I know how to do off the top of my head," he confesses, seeing as it's not like Jacob's got a book of recipes that miraculously survived the dip in the fountain with him. "They're definitely a treat," he agrees, because even Jacob (who likes sweets a little more than the next guy) feels an ache in his stomach to imagine these when you haven't had much else.

"I know people who used to stuff in healthier stuff. Similar recipe, kind of, but they'd stick in vegetables or fish before they fried 'em," he says, which always struck him as something to trick a person into eating their vitamins. "I could do more, if I remembered the ratios," he says, wishing that his mind didn't lose them so quickly.

Then again, who'd have ever thought he'd need to have them memorized?

Jacob gets a quizzical look at that declaration, because that can't be true. Peeta's got a good memory, sure, but it seems obvious to him that Jacob actually knows more than he thinks he does. "I'll bet that's not true, if you've been cooking that long. You probably remember how to do more than just these and you just don't remember." Because after all, wouldn't you remember the amounts, proportions, and steps of a recipe you did frequently? Just out of muscle memory or something like that? And Jacob's older than him.

"Like small pies kind of? I've been wondering if we should do something like that, or maybe work with Miss Kate on that. Making pie crust and filling it with different things, so people could take them away and eat them while they're doing whatever they're doing that day." It's an idea that's spawned somewhat from Katniss, since he knows she'd taken food bundles out into the woods around 12 when she hunted. Something more portable would probably be welcomed in the village as well, plus they shouldn't take long to bake.

"I haven't been doing this professionally for very long," Jacob has to admit, seeing as it's not like he ever had the energy to do it after a long shift at the canning factory. He feels a little embarrassed to say it, but it's the truth and it's his truth. He'll just have to live with that. "I learned when I was a kid, but I had to write everything down. Then, with the war, then the canning factory..."

He shrugs, giving Peeta a small, sad smile. "I only really got back to baking recently, because some stranger gave me the money to get my place up and running. I was still relying on my old notebooks, more than I wanted to." He takes a deep breath, grateful they can focus on talk of pie and not the bad circumstances of Jacob's old life. "Pies would be real good, especially if we got some venison or something, that's a great dinner."

It's strange to have this time of year come again so soon. Too soon. It hasn't been a year, no where near. Her birthday in Panem had come before the Quarter Quell, before the reaping and before the Games. But not enough time has passed since. There had been no fall in between, or winter to cover the grounds of District 12 in snow. She had gone straight from one arena to a new one, one where it was already spring.

One where the weather reminds her so much of the weather that comes with May, and somehow barely any time passing at all. That means sometime soon (now?), it would be her birthday and if it were this time of year in Panem, she would be eighteen, wouldn't she? But they're not in Panem. It hasn't been a year. Not long enough to turn eighteen. It's a strange juxtaposition that she finds herself in. One that she'd rather not think too much about.

Today, she spends most of the day by herself. Each day Peeta seems to get a little bit better. He has crutches and can get around without relying on her so much. After being by his side for the previous two weeks, refusing to leave the hospital without him, it feels strange to be by herself. When she returns to the house they share, it's late in the evening. She slips in quietly, closing the door behind her. It makes her smile to see Peeta sitting by the fire, not looking at all in pain. When she realizes what she's doing, she scowls at herself. Then she walks closer to get a better look at what he's drawing.

Edited 2017-05-12 02:44 (UTC)

He learned during the aftermath of the Games to not try and hold him to her with force, much as he wanted to. So many of his rose-tinted ideals of Katniss had been shattered when she'd broken his heart by confessing it had been an act in the arena, an act of desperation to get home. It had taken several months before he could be at ease with her again, as almost everyone who interacted with one or both of them on a regular basis could figure out, but even with all that he'd never stopped loving her. Sometimes it feels like he loves her more and better now than he ever had before the Games since they became closer on the Victory Tour, but it didn't change the fact that Katniss didn't know if she loved him and he wasn't going to force her into it. Snow was forcing them to live the charade, but Peeta wouldn't hold her to anything she wasn't willing to give.

So when she disappears that morning, he doesn't panic. She'd waited until they were both awake before slipping off, and that's really all he can ask of her, is being a barrier against the nightmares. He follows his normal routine, working in the bakery and the inn, coming home after dinner. He's certain she'll be there before it's too dark to see, so he gets a fire going in the fireplace and settles down to work on the books some more. When she does walk in, he looks up and smiles. "Hey. What do you think?" It's a portrait of Finnick, giving that impish smile of his as he seems to wink at the observer.

There are, he knows, victors who don't actually do their talent, except for a vague sort of show made for the Capitol. It's easy to pretend well enough to impress people who don't know any better, which is most of the people in the Capitol who care about talents. But there are also those like Finnick and Annie, who pick something and decide to work on it and grow their skills in the eye of the Capitol. But Finnick had seen what Peeta did in the arena last year, and he'd thought that in choosing painting for his talent, the new victor was expanding on something he already enjoyed.

So Finnick isn't entirely surprised the day he wanders into the bakery to check in on Peeta and sees him bent over an open book, drawing something. Curiosity draws him closer, and as he gets close enough to look at the page, he realizes that it's a face, and one he knows.

"That's pretty good," he says, already intrigued as to just what Peeta's doing, if this is just practice or something else.

He really had already enjoyed painting, it was true. Well, not painting exactly, but decorating cakes easily turned into that. He'd already been sketching with charcoal and graphite and even his mother would say he had an artist's hands, with the way he was able to bring delicate flowers and butterflies to life with frosting, but paint and canvas had been too expensive for them. Now, in the village, they simply don't exist, and the best he can get is the supplies he'd been allowed to claim from one of the closets in the inn. With the fact that it's such a limited supply, he's confining his artistic pursuits to these books, so they can at least be helpful as well.

Peeta looks up as Finnick enters, not surprised to see him there - most people in the village wander through at some point, even if it's infrequently. After all, you get bread there. The page he's working on currently has Jyn in progress, mostly completed except for some detail work, primarily the shading. But it's definitely her. "Thanks," he responds, looking back at the page to add another quick couple of lines before laying down his pencil. The sketch isn't a full page, set in the upper left quarter of the page with plenty of room around it to write, and he stretches a little as he realises how long he'd been bent over working on the book. "I'm not done, but it's coming along pretty well."

There's little that's real about victors. Certainly little about Finnick, or about Katniss, or so many who just do what they're told and play the part they're given because the alternative is unthinkable. It means victors are hard to read, hard to know, and most of them don't bother trying to know Finnick. He returns the favor, because that's who the Capitol wants him to be, and because it's easier that way, anyway. That way, there are fewer people to care about.

Peeta, though, had seemed to be one of those who showed something real of themselves to the camera, and unless he's a far better actor than he seems, Finnick is inclined to believe that is actually the case. Really enjoying his talent, really caring for Katniss, really being that rarest of thing among the victors, nice.

In some ways, it makes him harder to read, because he isn't predictable with strategy. But he has to try, because he has to work out how to keep the two of them safe in this place.

Finnick smiles at the picture of Jyn, then wanders over and leans on the table with one arm.

"This part of a project, or just something to do?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hold On to This Lullaby, Even When the Music's Gone

may 10

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(oh god I lost this notif, sorry for the late reply!)

may 8

no subject

May 8, bakery

no subject

no subject