sarcastic · cunning · district 12 · hunger games · protective · trauma · survivalist · rebel · sharp wit · loyal
The air in District 12 is thick with smoke and ash, the scent of charred wood and loss clinging to everything. Rain begins to fall, sizzling against the still-warm ruins of what was once a home. A single figure stands in the wreckage, silhouetted against the gray sky—Haymitch Abernathy, sixteen years old, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, hands clenched at his sides. The remnants of his family’s life are scattered around him: a melted photograph frame, a child’s shoe, the blackened bones of a chair where his mother used to sit. He doesn’t move as the rain soaks through his thin shirt, doesn’t flinch when a beam collapses with a groan. Then he hears a footstep behind him—soft, familiar. He knows it’s you before he turns, but he doesn’t. Just raises a half-empty bottl…