The Girl On Fire - Tumblr Posts

Of course Cinna was smart enough to use fashion as a rebellious political statement because fashion was the only medium that the shallow citizens of the Capitol could possibly understand and hopefully realize that the rebellion outside their insular world is real and that shit is going to go down. All because of the Girl on Fire wearing the Mockingjay dress...

When I hear the screams of the crowd, I think it’s because I must look stunning. Then I notice something is rising up around me. Smoke. From fire. Not the flickery stuff I wore last year in the chariot, but something much more real that devours my dress. I begin to panic as the smoke thickens. Charred bits of black silk swirl in the air, and pearls clatter to the stage. Somehow I’m not afraid to stop because my flesh doesn’t seem to be burning and I know Cinna must be behind whatever is happening. So I keep spinning and spinning. For a split second I’m gasping, completely engulfed in the strange flames. Then all at once, the fire is gone. I slowly come to a stop, wondering if I’m naked and why Cinna has arranged to burn away my wedding dress. But I’m not naked. I’m in a dress of the exact same design of my wedding dress, only it’s the color of coal and made of tiny feathers. Wonderingly, I lift my long, flowing sleeves into the air, and that’s when I see myself on the television screen. Clothed in black except for the white patches on my sleeves. Or should I say my wings. Because Cinna has turned me into a mockingjay.

i-am-just-a-mockingjay:

Ngaawww <3

Remnants of Ashes

masterlist

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1097

Summary: Gale Hawthorne, now a Peacekeeper in District 2, struggles to adapt to its ambitious, unfamiliar atmosphere while haunted by memories of Katniss Everdeen from District 12.

***

District 2 was a world apart from District 12, place of stone and metal rather than ash and coal. Gale Hawthorne tried to make this new district feel like home, but the familiarity of District 12's ruins haunted him. The bustling activity of District 2 felt foreign, the people here driven by ambitions and ideals so different from the grim survival that had characterized his old life.

Each morning, Gale woke with the sun. He dressed quickly, leaving his small apartment and heading out into the city before the streets filled with people. His role as a Peacekeeper was a pragmatic choice, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He told himself it was for the greater good, to help rebuild Panem—but deep down, he knew he was running from ghosts.

He was running from Katniss.

Katniss Everdeen. The girl on fire. The Mockingjay.

To him, she had been so much more than just a symbol.

She had been his partner in crime, his confidante, his closest friend. But the war had changed everything. They had changed, and now, she was a phantom pain, an echo of what once was.

***

It was a Sunday when Gale decided to visit the training fields. It was a place of order and discipline, filled with recruits who were eager to shape the new world. He watched them sparring, their movements precise and calculated, so different from the desperate skirmishes he had known.

"You're here early," a voice said, breaking his reverie.

Gale turned to see Lyda, one of the senior Peacekeepers, approaching him. She was a tall woman with a sharp gaze, her uniform crisp and spotless.

"Couldn't sleep," Gale admitted, shrugging. "Thought I'd come see how the new recruits are doing."

Lyda nodded, her expression softening slightly. "You still think about her, don't you?"

Gale's jaw tightened.

"Every day."

That night, Gale couldn't sleep. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the silence.

The nights in the woods with Katniss, the warmth of the fire, the shared stories, the unspoken bond between them. Those nights were gone, buried under the rubble of war and time...

He got up and walked to the window, looking out at the city. District 2 was thriving, rebuilding itself with a ferocity that mirrored his own determination. Yet, it felt hollow.

No amount of anything could fill the void left by Katniss.

Gale sighed and turned away from the window. He opened a drawer and pulled out a small, battered notebook. It was filled with sketches and notes, plans for traps and strategies. But between the lines of his meticulous handwriting were glimpses of another story— drawings of mockingjays, notes about hunting trips, fragments of poetry that he would never admit to writing.

He flipped to a blank page and stared at it. Slowly, he began to write.

***

Weeks turned into months, and Gale threw himself into his work. He trained recruits, devised new strategies, and worked tirelessly to ensure the safety of the district. He became known as a strict but fair leader, respected by his peers and subordinates. But despite his accomplishments, the emptiness lingered.

***

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Gale found himself wandering the outskirts of District 2. The air was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the dusty heat of the city. He walked until he found a secluded spot, a small hill overlooking a valley. He sat down and let the silence envelop him.

"Hey, Catnip," he whispered to the wind. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I need to talk to you."

He paused, taking a deep breath. "I miss you. I miss us. The way things used to be before... everything. I know things can never go back to the way they were, and I don't even know if you'd want them to. But I can't help thinking about what we lost."

Gale closed his eyes, feeling a tear slide down his cheek. "I wish I could tell you this in person. I wish I could see you, hear your voice. But I can't. So I'll just keep talking to the wind and hope that somehow, you'll hear me."

***

As the seasons changed, so did Gale. He found solace in small things—a recruit's success, a well-executed plan, the beauty of a sunrise over the mountains. He began to accept that Katniss was a part of his past, a cherished memory that he would carry with him always.

One day, while sorting through his belongings, Gale found the notebook again. He flipped through the pages, smiling at the memories. When he reached the end, he saw the words he had written that first night in District 2.

"Katniss, if you ever read this, I want you to know that I forgive you. And I hope you can forgive me too. We did what we had to do, and we survived. That's all that matters."

He closed the notebook and placed it back in the drawer. It was time to move forward.

***

Katniss's POV:

Katniss stood by the rusted fence, the setting sun casting a golden hue over District 12. Memories of Gale flooded her mind. Unbidden. Unrelenting.

Gale.

The name alone caused a pang in her stomach.

His grey eyes, always intense, haunted her thoughts. The woods had been their sanctuary, a place to escape the harsh realities of their lives... their laughter, shared meals, and whispered dreams of a future free from the Capitol's grip.

Now, those dreams felt like distant echoes.

The fence, once a boundary she and Gale had often crossed together, now felt like a wall separating her from her past. Katniss ran her fingers along the cold metal, feeling the rough texture beneath her fingertips. Each ridge and rusted spot a reminder of times gone by.

A soft breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth. She closed her eyes, breathing it in deeply, trying to anchor herself in the present. But it was no use. Her thoughts drifted back to the days when she and Gale would venture beyond the fence, into the wild, untamed woods where they could be free, if only for a while.

She could almost hear his voice, low and comforting, as he spoke of rebellion and hope. "Someday, Katniss," he had said, his voice filled with conviction, "someday things will be different. We won't have to live in fear."

But someday had come and gone. The rebellion had happened. The world had changed.