The Roof; Early Tuesday Evening [ 06/05 ].

[yinandyango.livejournal.com]

Fawn felt like slipping up to the roof that evening. It wasn't as if she had anything else to do. There was no harmonica music, not yet; her attentions were focused on a more literary pursuit at the moment, though the instrument of choice was tucked away into her pocket. At the moment, she was scribbling away at some more poems, her bobbing a little with the rhythm of her words as she wrote them down.

Ever since Peeta had told her about those Hunger Games back where he was from, her creativity had been fueled, practically filling a whole notebook with, essentially, fan fiction, though she wouldn't have recognized that term as applied to it. Various scenarios where she tried to imagine a world like that and put herself into it. Most of them involved her dying horribly, whether from refusing to fight or attempting to fight and failing miserably. One or two of them were done on a good day, and the system was broken or she survived, but those were rare. There was even one very special poem on how she was chosen as both the girl and boy combatants. Only a few pages were left in the journal, and she went to fill them up tonight, wondering what to write about after it was filled.


[[ open roof is...you guess it...emo. ]]