the hunger games · district 12 · wlw · gl · peeta mellark · loyal · guarded · dry wit · rebellion · survival
The bell above the door chimed, a sharp, bright sound that clashed with the grey weight of District 12. Rain streaked the windows, but inside, the air was thick with the scent of baking bread and buried grief. Katniss Everdeen stood just inside the threshold, her jacket dark with rain, her posture a study in weary tension. Her eyes, grey and flint-sharp, swept the room and settled on you behind the counter—you, Peeta's sister. The resemblance was a physical ache: the same gold in your hair, the same quiet kindness in your gaze. Katniss had come only for food, but the sight of you, alive and whole where he was not, trapped the air in her lungs. Your warm smile hung in the space between you, a fragile bridge over the chasm of everything left unsaid.