Post by Deleted on Jan 31, 2017 21:56:23 GMT -7
There was a faint tinkling, and Krys swore softly, shaking his head with a sigh as he set the bolt of fabric he'd been working with aside, swiveling his work light over to shine on the floor, looking around for the flash of the needle he'd just dropped. His mind wasn't entirely focused on his work, as he'd heard about the fracas in District 4, and knew what it portended. In his heart of hearts, he was glad, but at the same time, it terrified him. What if it spread here? It would put Precious and Lilac in grave danger, something he wasn't sure how he'd react to occurring. While he never really wanted to be in the Games, he'd still undergone all the training that went along with being considered a Career, and he was more than capable of killing at need.
But some part of him knew this wouldn't last. Sure, the system had worked for three quarters of a century. But every year, it got bloodier, and it was worse on the Quarter Quells. It had hit him particularly hard, when the Games a couple years ago had been won by that little girl from 12. What was her name? Primp? Primm, that was it. He could only imagine how he would react if that happened to Precious. This uncertainty had been made worse a few years ago, just before becoming a burning assurance that the Games could not continue, when the Peacekeepers had decided Lilac needed beaten. His back and shoulders still twinged in bad weather from the price of his own intervention in that little incident.
He grimaced, finally spotting the needle and scooping it up gingerly, sticking it back into the little ball that held needles and pins for his work. Slumping into the chair he kept down here for breaks, he leaned his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands. The work normally kept his mind from following these paths, but... the last few weeks had been harder and harder to keep from following certain lines of thought that, if they were known, would put everyone he knew in danger. He couldn't keep doing this, because Precious, for her age, was extremely perceptive, and he had a very hard time lying to her. And she might not understand why they had to keep such thoughts to themselves. The last thing he wanted to do was put her in danger by explaining to her why he seemed so out of sorts.
But some part of him knew this wouldn't last. Sure, the system had worked for three quarters of a century. But every year, it got bloodier, and it was worse on the Quarter Quells. It had hit him particularly hard, when the Games a couple years ago had been won by that little girl from 12. What was her name? Primp? Primm, that was it. He could only imagine how he would react if that happened to Precious. This uncertainty had been made worse a few years ago, just before becoming a burning assurance that the Games could not continue, when the Peacekeepers had decided Lilac needed beaten. His back and shoulders still twinged in bad weather from the price of his own intervention in that little incident.
He grimaced, finally spotting the needle and scooping it up gingerly, sticking it back into the little ball that held needles and pins for his work. Slumping into the chair he kept down here for breaks, he leaned his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands. The work normally kept his mind from following these paths, but... the last few weeks had been harder and harder to keep from following certain lines of thought that, if they were known, would put everyone he knew in danger. He couldn't keep doing this, because Precious, for her age, was extremely perceptive, and he had a very hard time lying to her. And she might not understand why they had to keep such thoughts to themselves. The last thing he wanted to do was put her in danger by explaining to her why he seemed so out of sorts.