2nd Throw - [ action ]

[shenevermisses]

[A party on Friday constituted a shopping trip on Wednesday. Normally, Clove was not keen on social functions. She avoided the main core during things like that at the Academy. Here, though, she took it to be part of the show. As a "New Feather," she had to try and forge alliances. She had a few prospects, she felt.

The Roman-- Roan, but that was close enough for Clove-- theme called for an effort to find her Tribute Parade costume.

For three hours that morning, Clove browsed the clothing store. When she found something she liked and that looked like it would fit, she put it in the canvas bag she carried. She needed a bit more of a wardrobe, after all. It was sort of fun, looking through everything.

Finally, she found it. The black pants and the layered gold shirt. Sleeveless and close-fitted, tailored to show her off, accent the delicate feminine frame next to the tall and broad figure Cato presented.

Clove took it quietly. Unlike everything else, this outfit did not go into her bag. She carried it to a changing stall and shut herself in. She stripped, put on the pants, shirt, and her boots. She even tied her hair up in a poor imitation of her parade style and stepped out to inspect herself in the mirror, smiling faintly with anticipation.

Her smile faded almost instantly. There was a small gap between her waistband and her skin, and the pants were almost too long. Her shirt hung loose, rather than hugging her chest. She reached up, under the shirt, and felt her side. They weren't horribly prominent, but she could feel her ribs. Not surprising-- she'd had little to eat that last run in the Arena. Of course she'd lost weight.

Clove looked at her reflection. She was a shadow of the girl who had ridden in a chariot with Cato. She felt near her temple, trying to find the dent in her skull. It wasn't there. Maybe she'd feel better if it was. Maybe a physical reminder of that injury would make her feel like everything was real again.

She touched the loose ends of the shirt, felt the layers of fabric. Her eyes stung. Something wet fell down her cheeks. ...She was crying. For the first time in a long, long time, she was crying. Clove drew herself up, willing the tears to stop. Then she bent over... sank down into a crouch as her chest shuddered with a painful sob.]

Comments

[cop_an_attitude]

[Sally has a pretty strong inkling the weight loss was not entirely due to exercise. She sighs; a disappointed-at-the-world (all of them) sort of sigh. At least Clove is crying somewhat less now.]

Well, you can gain it back now. I'm sure the free food will help.

[shenevermisses]

I-- Yeah.

[She swallows hard, rubbing her eyes again to force the tears to stop.

A deep breath, a moment with her eyes closed, and she leans back against the wall. Not quite relaxed but not really sulking either. Just... quiet. Almost empty.

Exhausted from the crying fit.]

...Thanks. I... know how stupid this looks.

[cop_an_attitude]

It's not stupid. I cried about stupid things when I was your age, and being upset about what you went through isn't stupid.

[Because it's not really about the top not fitting, Sally thinks, or at least not all about it.

At least Clove has stopped crying, but she still looks miserable, so Sally tries to think, and - oh. Right.]

You know, I reckon someone here must be able to take the fabric in for you.

[shenevermisses]

['what you went through'

Clove looks over at Sally. The words are almost enough to make her cry again. Because it's (brief) permission.

She can cry about the Games. She can cry for Cato. She can cry over her death.

But she fights it back.]

I don't want to alter it. [But she's grateful for the suggestions. She barely manages a smile.] I'll just... work on gaining the weight back.

[She sighs.]

Thank you. You've been... really nice to me.

[From the way she says it, this is something new.]

[cop_an_attitude]

[Sally has heard that tone of voice too often, and she knows the only thing to do is smile reassuringly.]

Any time you need a friend.

[She stands and offers her hand to help Clove up.]

[shenevermisses]

...Thanks.

[Clove takes the offered hand and pulls herself up with it, smoothing out her clothes.

She's at least calmer, now.]

[cop_an_attitude]

[Looks like a crisis averted, at least hopefully.]

Shall I get out of your hair, then? People probably think we're plotting a coup in here. Unless you need a different... [She gestures to the clothes.] Anything. I could fetch it for you.

[shenevermisses]

I'm... Yeah, I'm fine.

[She can push down everything else now. The Games, Cato, death... She can shrug it off, tell herself that she'll think about it all later.

Colve takes a deep breath, and she manages a vague smile. It really isn't much, but it's the best she can do right now. Then...]

Sally... can I... ask you something? It's kind of personal, so I get it if you say no.

[cop_an_attitude]

[Personal questions from a little girl? What could go wrong!]

I'm sure I've heard worse; what is it?

[shenevermisses]

[Clove seems to hesitate. After all, it's not something that actually matters. But she wants to know.]

Do you... have kids?

[cop_an_attitude]

[There is a moment where Sally's blood runs cold at the prospect of where the hell this might be going, but she humors herself she does a good job of not showing it.]

Um. No, I don't. Why?

[shenevermisses]

You just... seem really good with them.

[Clove shrugs a bit.]

I don't know. Not my business anyway, and it's not like it's important. I just... wanted to know? It's-- I don't know. Sorry.

[cop_an_attitude]

[Good with kids. That makes her sad, but being sad makes her bitter, being bitter makes her angry, and being angry makes her say things people don't need to hear, so she just. Stops.

But still. Kids. From the girl who was enlisted to kill other children.]

I-- no, it's fine. Thank you. I'm glad you think so.

[Sally does not point out that she's probably learned a lot of it from her job, comforting frightened kids, because that...would be the wrong thing to say.]

[shenevermisses]

...Sorry.

[Hindsight's perfect, though, and that's what makes Clove sure she shouldn't have even asked.

She wouldn't have asked one of her instructors at the Academy. And if she wouldn't say it to them, she shouldn't say it to Sally. At least, that's the most practical solution to adopt.

Different subject. That's best.]

I... Thank you. Again. For just... for helping. You really did.

[cop_an_attitude]

[That's easier ground.]

I'm glad I helped. I really am. And don't be sorry - please. You can talk to me about whatever you want, okay?

[shenevermisses]

Y--yeah. Thanks. That... Yeah. Thank you.

[She isn't good with actual gratitude. Hasn't been shown enough she can really be grateful for. Usually she's just taught what she needs to survive.

So she's doing her best.]

[cop_an_attitude]

[Sally knows from being bad at gratitude, so she appreciates that Clove is even trying.]

No problem. You're all right, then?

[shenevermisses]

[Clove manages a real smile, even if it falters and fades a moment later.]

I am. Now. Thanks.

[cop_an_attitude]

[Sally smiles back and taps Clove's shoulder with her knuckles.]

Happy to hear it.

[shenevermisses]

I'll-- I'll keep in touch. If that's okay.

[She wouldn't waste Sally's time again with stupid problems like this... but it would be nice to have a woman older than her to talk to sometimes.]

[cop_an_attitude]

Yeah, of course it's okay.

[In the interest of preventing more breakdowns and so on. Besides, Clove seems like a nice kid, in spite of...everything.]