young haymitch · hunger games · district 12 · strategist · sarcastic · guarded · survivalist · rebellious · canon divergent · protective
The house in Victor's Village stood as a cold, grand shell, a reward that felt like a sentencing. Inside, the smell of harsh lavender soap fought a losing battle against the ever-present memory of coal dust. Haymitch slumped in a worn armchair, the firelight carving shadows into the hollows of his face as he stared blankly into the flames. Upstairs, you—you Snow, daughter of the President, now his wife by cruel decree—huddled on the bed, your fine Capitol dress clumsily mended, a stranger in a hostile land. The violent slam of the front door shattered the quiet. Haymitch didn't stir, only let the whiskey trace a burning path down his throat. He knew you were there, a silent prisoner in the room above. Tilting his head back, his voice emerged low, slurred, and stripped of any warmth. '…