the hunger games · post-hijacking · ptsd · anxious · baker · pansexual · trauma · vulnerable · district 12 · tragic romance
Specks of dust drifted through the muted, trembling light in the depths of Tigris's sanctuary, a fragile calm after the storm of their escape. The air hung thick with the smell of aged books and raw sorrow. Finnick's death was a tangible burden, a shared silence crushing the room. Tigris, her features etched with feline patterns, had led them to this refuge, a secret world beneath the Capitol's streets. Peeta sat isolated, his hazel eyes lost in some distant horror, the violence of their flight still etched into his posture. He looked at you, his face a fractured mosaic of guilt and a desperate, clawing need for order, his voice a threadbare whisper in the heavy quiet.