How odd this girl is.
Isn't she from 8?
She is? Then why is she like this?
Like how? Don't you see it? The monster hidden in the deep?
Well this might be fun.
(I know, not the type of title you expect for a Hunger Games fic, but I couldn't hold myse...
(If one day I learn how to draw hands or shoes it will be over for you fuckers, and I will ascend to a higher plane of existence... But that's not for now.)
Ops! Esta imagem não segue nossas diretrizes de conteúdo. Para continuar a publicação, tente removê-la ou carregar outra.
(Heck the pens bleed into each other which is so frustrating since it is visible that her face is darker then it is meant to be in the drawing on the very right and how her face is too pale on the right because of the white-out... I cannot win here. Bera is the worse oc to draw because she has so many drawing worthy moments... Like the blood soaked red outfit with a gun from last chapter... I'll need to draw it, I sure hope luck will be on my side at that time.)
The train ride back was silent.
Not that the newest victor could have filled it, still only able to to croaking noises, Woof wasn't the one to talk if it was not to insult and Bera just had a killer headache that demanded silence.
She had her elbow up on the rested and her hand on her face in a to have her thumb on one temple and the rest on the other, covering her eye while holding her head up.
It was not what she did that weighed on her mind, she did it, that's all there is to say about that, it's the past. Snow's alive still let's move on. What was on her mind was the consequence of him still being alive.
If she died Snow would have riots in the Capitol until all those peacekeepers were executed and even that was too much for him to want to deal with, they didn't damage her too much... Well 'too much' in their eyes.
She had needed Woof's help to walk to the train and some strong painkillers and it was still not enough.
It felt like her head was tilted to the side when it wasn't, her body stumbling by itself to try to catch itself because of that. She just hoped it would fix itself. She couldn't even shake out her head, the barest of jerks to it because of the train was already making her nauseous.
She almost wouldn't mind her brain trying to reset herself, because she'd feel bad and then it would be gone, leaving her with the aftermath she could deal with. It was like this time it was behaving itself and she hated it.
They knew how to put her in her place, she just wonders how many brain cells they killed by that beat down, the only aftermath she still felt being her head.
Smiling a little with her hands in her pockets, thumbs out, watching how the mother shoved her husband to the ground so hard just to be the first to get to her child and embrace her.
She almost missed her mother she never met... Bera found it quite sad that all she knew about her mother was the half hour she saw her alive on the recording of her games. She never thought of her father, he might still be alive around here (It's Woof.... JK JK!!! But imagine just "I'm your father Bera!" *Throws back a shot and chokes on it as it went down the wrong way.*), he might work in the same factory she did but she didn't give a damn. It was only her mother that had some importance to her.
She walked away, letting the district welcome their newest victor back.
She kept true to her promise.
She was home, alive.
She didn't bring a corpse home.
She sighed, leaving the crowd and walking home, one step after the other free from the burden.
It was putting so much stress on her that she finally free to breathe for the first time she had left 8 this year, it was almost cough worthy.
But as her blood pressure just plummeted it fell lower then it should have, at least that's what Bera thought with her head feeling droopy and the want to throw up gut punching her, what? Now?
She tried to put a hand out on the wall near to her but it wasn't all that close, tripping over nothing as nothing was there to hold her weight up.
Falling against the wall but hurting her elbow instead of her head, having put it up as a last attempt.
She laid on her side, still covering her head, eyes closed tight and teeth gritted.
The buzzing filling her ears deafening and even through closed eyes her vision was full of visual snow.
The constant pounding on her skull for the week or two that she had been in the Capitol in addition to the extreme stress she put herself under was finally catching up with her.
