eswareinmal | you'll be alright ; no one can hurt you now. ( OPEN )

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you'll be alright ; no one can hurt you now. ( OPEN )

Characters: Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, and you!
Where: The Mockingjay Bakery ( and above apartment )
When: 19th of Rebirth's Decline
What: Moving! Mattress acquired, the Knight and the Princess make themselves a home. Scandalous.

For a girl from the Seam who grew up with nothing and had to fight just to live, the overwhelming welcome and riches and praise showered on her for the happenstance of her occupation has been a little overwhelming for Katniss. She isn't surprised that Peeta has many people who enjoy him, who find his company pleasant... He's had that from the beginning. A warm smile, a kind word... A hearty laugh. It's like he can't help making friends, no matter where he goes. But Katniss isn't accustomed to people regarding her highly. She was met with appreciation in District Eleven, thunderous applause in the Capitol, but it wasn't anything like this. She's respected - truly respected - here.

There were whispers all around them, of course, about the circumstances surrounding their new housing situation. Rumors flew like birds between the townspeople. The Knight who didn't lift the heavy things for her Princess. Unwed and planning to share a bed. Scandal. She couldn't bring herself to care. They were here. Peeta was safe. She was safe. Rue was safe. She would invite Rue to live with them, too. They could share a bed, the three of them. It wouldn't be the same with the young girl there as it was on the train, or in the Arena, but it would be warm and comfortable.

Peeta managed to find a mattress that would actually be soft and like a real bed. She wondered if it would be like the Capitol mattresses, or the ones they had in their District. Soft and pillowy, versus tolerable and a little harder. She hoped it was pillowy. Adjusting to a new place was difficult enough without being uncomfortable. Then again, she would have been find with flour sacks stuffed with soft pine needles if it meant Peeta could help quell the nightmares that plagued her and left her restless and tired. So, so tired.

Today, they were moving their things into the apartment above Peeta's bakery. The doors were, as always, left open, so that friends and acquaintances could come assist if they wanted. Or, if they simply wanted to visit, they could do that as well. They may find Peeta and Katniss hefting the mattress up the stairs, or if they arrive later, they might find them moving other furniture, or settled upstairs already, decorating. Later still and they may just be enjoying something to eat. While she doesn't necessarily trust it, their door remains open for the remainder of the day, regardless of what point in their moving and decorating they are experiencing.

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"Really, I'm fine."

Peeta tried not to let the exasperation he was feeling show in his voice, but it was starting to get ridiculous. He hadn't been able to get more than three steps without being accosted by a horrified townsperson trying to take the mattress from him. Yes, it was heavy, but it was rolled up and tied with lengths of rope that served as hand-holds. He could lift and carry it on his own, but he was being treated as though his arms would snap at any moment.

Now, a man had taken hold of one of the ends and was attempting to wrest it from Peeta's grip. "I insist. You mustn't strain your delicate constitution so!"

But the Mockingjay was within sight, and once he got inside he would be safe from well-meaning, pushy townspeople. And Katniss was inside, which gave him an excuse to shake his current "helper" off.

"My knight is waiting for me," he said firmly, closing the distance between himself and the open door of his bakery. He stuck his head inside the doorway and shouted, "Katniss, can you help me for a minute?"

The man narrowed his eyes, maintaining his grip on the other end of the mattress. Peeta doubted he would leave until he saw her physically take the mattress herself and drag it at least a few feet inside.

Edited 2012-09-10 08:51 (UTC)

She'd been receiving scornful looks all morning. People whispered of the Princess and how his able-bodied Knight should have been handling the brunt of the work. She didn't understand these -- roles, the way people called Peeta a Princess. First of all, that implied stories that no one told anymore. Second... Weren't Princesses supposed to be girls? She watched warily, worn down from the judgments already. She didn't like it here much, but it was still a far cry better from home. She had to remind herself of that regularly, or she might've gone off on someone. Sometimes she felt like a bomb, just waiting to be tripped.

She'd holed herself up inside until they needed to move more things, to avoid the looks. The whispers. The questions she couldn't answer. Until she heard Peeta's voice, she made no effort to respond to another person. She moved down the stairs as quickly as she would have moved through a good patch of woods. "Coming!"

Katniss stepped out and saw that there was a bit of a tussle going on. "What are you doing?" Immediately, she got defensive, and assumed the man was trying to take the mattress from them. "Leave him alone!" She moved quickly and elbowed the man aside, gripping tightly at the seams and yanking the mattress toward the door.

"Go on! I've -- got it, he's fine."

As soon as Katniss showed up, the man bowed deeply and nearly tripped over himself to show respect to the "Honorable Sir--of course I never meant to make designs of that sort upon your Princess--if I--"

"Thank you for your help," Peeta said firmly, and the man paused, then bowed again deeply.

"Milady. Sir."

And he left them alone. Peeta felt his muscles relax and he let out a relieved sigh, kicking the door open wider so he could drag the mattress inside.

"Thank you, Katniss."

The moment the man was gone, out of earshot, Katniss shoved aside all reservation of her irritations. These people were already driving her up a wall, and if one more person called her Sir, she might put an arrow through their head. She turned to Peeta, a frown still on her face.

"Why won't they just leave us alone?"

New arrivals make him curious, and should he require the services of the girl sorcerer again, he may have to supply her with sweets. Sugar as a near-direct fuel for magic; it seems novel. Cultivating a source for it is necessary, however, and counting on the flighty, thoughtless peasants of this realm would no doubt prove somewhat inconvenient.

But Loki is nothing if not cautious. Moreover, he has to try his ability to shapeshift again. He must know if his abilities are still intact, and just more difficult to access, or if they're blocked to him entirely. His Jotunn heritage is strong, and shapeshifting... that was something he knew innately, before anyone taught him a word.

And so Loki attempts it.

It takes several tries, and a good deal of magical energy, but eventually he finds himself in the form of a magpie. Good; it's the first form he ever took, and it's the one he finds the easiest. Not only that but it's the best for listening.

And so Peeta and Katniss might find a bird on their windowsill, either of the apartment above or of the bakery below. An unusually curious bird, peering inside with dark, intelligent eyes. He sings at them, his bird's voice low and buzzy.

Edited 2012-09-11 20:25 (UTC)

They're taking a quick snack break when the bird leans inside, chirping. Peeta assumes it's hungry and breaks a cheese bun in half, carrying it over to the sill--he pauses a few feet away, not wanting to startle it.

"Hi, there," he says, quietly. He tears a bit off one of the halves and tosses it in the bird's direction.

He hops closer, remembering to act shy, like a real bird. Unusually curious, but not obviously sentient.

Chirps again, tilting his head to the side.

Katniss had been arranging a few things upstairs, but she smelled the cheese buns. Those cheese buns. They were her favorite. He always remembered. She padded quietly down the stairs and poked her head around the corner, witnessing the bird and Peeta. The exchange almost seemed strange. And she hadn't ever seen a bird like that before. Curious, she took a few steps forward, footfalls nearly silent. She pursed her lips together and let fly a soft whistle.

Four simple notes.

Did she want a call and response? Interesting, but... very well.

He cocked his head, and, in a manner somewhat unbecoming a magpie, imitated the four notes. A birdlike whistle, not the buzzy voice from before.

She hadn't been expecting to hear the whistles back. It didn't seem like this was that sort of bird. So, when the notes were returned, she froze. Her face contorted into a confused frown, and she canted her head to the side. Approaching the bird, she cautiously repeated the tune. Would it be able to do it again? This was no mockingjay; but what sort of bird had that ability besides the ones from Panem?

He repeated it quicker this time, and then opened his mouth, as though expectant of reward. If none is forthcoming, he repeats it, and hops closer to Peeta.

Perhaps they'll think him a trained thing, escaped from a circus.

Unfortunately, this second hop takes him to the edge of the windowsill. Birds' claws grip in a way that is a bit unfamiliar to him, and so he slips. An undignified squawk and frantic wing-flapping later, he roosts back on the sill.

That never happened. They saw nothing. He is completely dignified.

"It doesn't look like a mockingjay."

It was looking expectantly up at him this time, mouth open. Peeta broke off another piece of bread and tossed it into the bird's beak.

He was turning towards Katniss, to see if she was okay--those notes held a deep, not entirely pleasant significance for her, the memory of the dark little girl covered in flowers--but the squawking startled him and he found himself with his arms flung out, halfway towards the sill as if to catch the bird.

Katniss is more suspicious of the bird than anything. At first, she was intrigued. The way it mimicked the notes, the way it seemed to listen, truly listen to her... But now, as it clumsily floundered, she wondered what it really was. "No, it doesn't," she replied quietly, approaching ever closer. Peeta lunged to catch it. But Katniss wanted to see something else.

Once it got its footing, she held her hand out toward it. She extended her index and middle fingers together, placing them against the sill right near the bird's feet. She offered a shorter whistle this time, two quick notes, as if to invite it to perch on her hand. If it were going to be a dangerous bird, she would know now to fetch her arrows and make dinner of it. If not... Well, ever the curious creature it would be.

Faolan had not wandered town the past few days, preferring the forest and fields, so he had not seen Peeta's bakery yet. He trotted confidently inside, leaning on the counter to look around for people.

There was noise from the stairs. Fearlessly, he went to look up them, seeing someone pushing something big up the stairs.

"Need help?" he asked, a little unsure.

Peeta recognized that face from his first day. He was at the bottom end of the mattress, taking the bulk of the weight; his grip was secure, but he didn't want to risk any bruising of little feet or fingers.

"I think we've got it." He shoots a smile over his shoulder. "Katniss, you okay?"

Katniss, despite the fact that she was nowhere near as strong as Peeta, nor anywhere close to as muscular, gave a heft just to show she was fine. She offered a smile to the small boy. She assumed it was a friend of Peeta's, and made no qualms with his presence because of it. Besides... For all of her emotional blocks, she had somewhat of a soft spot for kids. Somehow, they all managed to remind her of Prim.

"I'm fine," she added, hoisting another few inches and dragging the mattress along.

"There's some food in the kitchen, if you're hungry."

Peeta shifted to try and take more of the weight than Katniss, trusting her to keep them going in the right direction while he kept the bulky mattress from pitching them both down the stairs.

"That's Faolan. He likes sandwiches," he added, to her. He didn't think it would be an issue, but knowing the kid wasn't just a wanderer off the street couldn't hurt.

Oh! What a good idea! Faolan trotted away from the stairs, following his nose to the kitchen. He could make sandwiches so they would have them after.

Faolan was an amazing sandwich maker. He chose all of his favorite things in the kitchen, putting slices of beef, lettuce, and tomatoes on the nice smelling bread with mustard. There were even strawberries, and he filled a bowl with them.

Picking everything up, he carefully carried it all back to the stairs to watch the pair with the mattress. He climbed up a few steps behind Peeta, craning his neck to watch the progress.

Daenerys is curious to see the Bakery. She has no love for the people who rule this world, and the people themselves have not earned her love in kind. Yet she watches over those that are as lost as she is, for even here she remains a Mother, even at six and ten.

With Drogon on one shoulder, the others hidden away within her room. She hears movement and rises slowly to the upper level, curious and wary. Those two, Peeta and Katniss. Fortunate enough to be with one another when it was such a rare thing in her world. Love was not easily given, let alone trusted and she hoped they realized how valuable it was. Something told her they did, and as she walks around, Drogon batting his wings once or twice, she hopes to find them well.

Once most of the heavy moving was done, Katniss took it upon herself to go find something for them to eat. Well... Not find. Hunt. She managed to purchase a decent bow and a quiver of well-made arrows in the first couple of days, but she hadn't been afforded much time to use them. She got a couple of rabbits, and was sitting in a corner at a small table, cleaning them to prepare for a meal. She looked up at the sound of steps, and offered a small smile. She recognized this girl. This was the girl who felt similar anger to what she felt, with the Capitol, and their games.

"Hi," she said quietly, setting her knife and the rabbits aside and wiping her hands on a cloth. Her eyes flitted to the dragon on the girl's shoulder. "... What is he?"

The greeting is unfamiliar to her, but as Katniss shows her face, so does Daenerys turn, taking in her appearance. The girl, Katniss, looks well, and Daenerys greets her in kind, with a nod of her head. "You look well," She says, not frightened and much like a cornered animal, as she reminded her of when they spoke.

At the question she glances at Drogon; who swivels his head and pins Katniss with a red stare. "He is a dragon. The last of three in all the world. He is called Drogon." There is fondness there, all the while a string of pride wraps tightly around each word. He is her child.

"I've been adjusting," she replies, offering a smile to the girl. She's been so kind, ever since Katniss arrived here. How can she not smile? Maybe they can even be friends. She seems to know Peeta, and she has a certain fire-like quality that Katniss can relate to.

A dragon. She's never heard of a dragon before. She's never seen one, either. "Is he dangerous?" She stands, and slowly makes her way toward the blonde. No, not blonde. Her hair is -- silver. Like moonlight. Katniss wonders if it's that way naturally. "Can I touch him?"

"That is good to hear. It puts my mind at ease." She says lightly, smiling back more genuinely. This girl is young and old, like her. She has the same darknesses in her eyes, and their stories are different but perhaps she can be trusted. If she knows anything this girl is in a world that oppresses her, not unlike her own.

"He is not to those I could consider friend." Daenerys watches her quietly, her violet eyes observant. To that she extends her arm, waits for Drogon to flutter onto it before he is at a distance for Katniss to reach for him. He does, and Dany watches with a smile.

"He will not harm you."

"Thank you, for your concern."

Katniss isn't sure how to handle someone she barely knows caring so much about her welfare. It's... strange. Not in the way the Capitol citizens tried to care, just because she was a favorite, but in a genuine way. She's not used to it; not from anyone but those she's close to. And even then, sometimes, it's difficult for her to adjust.

Her eyes flit to the dragon and she smiles. Animals react better if there's an air of calm about the person approaching them. She knows that from hunting. It's easy not to be nervous, because of her experience there. If you're nervous, or frightened, they can sense it. She is not frightened. Katniss takes another step closer, and she reaches out to gently caress Drogon's head. "He's beautiful," she murmurs, completely in awe of this creature. She pets him a little less tentatively, taking in the feel of his scales on her fingertips. He's smooth, like a stone; not just any stone, though. One whose surface has been polished for many years by waters running through a river.

It is concern not always given easily. As a Queen she wishes compassion over wrath, yet she has not always had the time to give it over justice. Lately she would rather be content to plant seeds of prosperity than continue to engage in war. Yet if she cannot tame her cities she cannot hope to be prepared to march and reclaim the kingdoms.

Here, there is a bit of respite that she will not deny herself. She watches the exchange carefully.
Drogon in response presses the top of his smooth head against Katniss' palm, a little whirring sound in his throat. Daenerys chuckles then, a bit surprised but with a fondness in her voice. "He likes you."

Katniss is a bit surprised at the return of affection the small creature offers, but she doesn't retract her hand. She isn't used to being able to pet thinks. Buttercup never lets her get close. He hates her, and it's mutual. Disgusting cat. But this... This animal is beautiful and unlike anything she ever could have dreamt. She looks up at Daenerys, but continues to pet him. "I like him, too," she murmurs.

He radiates heat. He reminds her of the flames that engulfed her at both of her games, the fire that the world would never forget her for. Perhaps the girl on fire was more akin to conflagration than she suspected. "Is he always so calm?"

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you'll be alright ; no one can hurt you now. ( OPEN )

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hi! He can see as much or as little as you guys want

Hi. :D

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fjhgk sorry this is so late

what no you're totally fine

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