(no subject)

[lastchanceforhonor]

Sansa did not know what to do with herself. It was a problem that she hadn't anticipated, because she had not expected her reaction when she'd been talking to Steve. Too many emotions, when he'd told her that Tyrion was either gone or close to it; and then she had started crying without even meaning to, and Sansa was not so much of a weeping woman. Not any longer. Not since Robb had been killed.

She did not wish to go back to her rooms, to the reminder that she was by and large alone here; she did not wish to see anyone, to have Klaus ask after Star, to have to put on a front for anyone, to be anyone. To be Alayne or Sansa - not her own self, but the polite, gathered woman who was both quiet and carried with her a certain gravitas. No, she just wanted to be Sansa, but she did not know if she knew who Sansa was, any long. How to be herself.

She was sitting in one of the fourth floor meeting areas, and she was largely staring at nothing - just trying to sort through her own thoughts and emotions, her eyes red-rimmed from where she'd randomly burst into tears. Her hands were knit in her lap, rubbing her hands in an entirely nervous gesture-- the skin reddened, and she was thankful that she was alone until she heard footsteps, pushing herself abruptly to her feet, reaching up to smooth her hair before Peeta rounded the corner into the alcove.

When she realised it was him, she exhaled slowly, and smiled, and she looked normal, because even when she was lost (especially, perhaps) she could pull up how she should be, and act very, very well.

Comments

[notjustapiece]

"Where I'm from, children are pledged as tributes to the Capitol and have to fight in the Games. It's always best to be able to hide for as long as possible," Peeta explains carefully. It's something he doesn't mind talking about to the extent that it's made him who he is but it's always a little unpleasant to bring up those memories.

"I came from one of them when I showed up here."

[lastchanceforhonor]

Her face twisted into a frown. "That's awful," she said, shaking her head. "That you have to fight for sport." She hadn't liked it when Joffrey made seasoned knights do it, but children? "Are you... alright?" She didn't know what else to ask with that, how else to approach it. "I mean, you're obviously here, but- You and Katniss, you're both alright?"

[notjustapiece]

"Katniss has experience. She's a hunter," Peeta explains, a smile touching his lips at the mention of her. He's always thought Katniss was this fierce, amazing person and a lot stronger than he ever had to be.

"I was just lucky. I'm not good at fighting the way she is, I'm better with people. We work better together than we do apart."

[lastchanceforhonor]

Sansa nodded with a small smile. "It's good that you have her, then." She kept her hands folded in her lap. "And I think you're likely better than you realise. You have a good sort of air about you. Something- You are very capable." She smiled, and rubbed at the scar on her hand again without thinking about it. "And that you're not alone, that's good, too."

[notjustapiece]

"Maybe you won't be for long," Peeta says, hopeful on that front. "Maybe one of your brothers will show? There has to be someone you want to be here and I hope that person shows up."

He thinks it's probably good that one of the things the Capitol has never been able to destroy in him is his faith in people, his faith that some people can still be good.

[lastchanceforhonor]

"My brothers-" She looks at nothing, because to focus on something would make her really think about where she is. "Jon is not really my brother, and the rest of them are dead." That is twice that she's brought it up, now, and she's unable to stop the way it sinks her heart down to her stomach. "All of them, so I am alone." She flexes her hand, rubbing that scar again because she cannot help it.

"But yes, perhaps someone I know." She says it sweetly, because she is not going to make Peeta think of her as a victim - to show weakness is to invite hurts, and Sansa has become very good at donning her armor made of pleasantries.

[notjustapiece]

Peeta isn't really sure what to say to that so, instead, he turns his drawing so that she might be able to see it. It's nowhere near finished, but there's enough there that she can see his progress and make out the lines.

"Do you like it? I could finish it for you and let you have it, if you wanted."

[lastchanceforhonor]

It's clear from his face (and his lack of response) that she has overstepped, and she cannot stop the embarrassed flush that races up her cheeks. "It's lovely," she said, even though it was barely finished. She believed in his talent, but this was far less than that - this was Sansa attempting to follow along his change of subject. Suffice to say, she would not make the mistake of being overly friendly again. "You are very talented, like I said. If you would want me to have it, I gladly would - although you do not have to give it to me if you do not wish to!"

[notjustapiece]

Peeta softens his voice a little. "I want you to have it, Sansa, because I like doing nice things for my friends. It doens't do me any good just collecting dust and it's something pretty that might make you happy. That's more than enough to make my decision for me."

Maybe he's overstepping a little, calling her a friend, but Peeta likes her and feels strangely protective of her, even if she might not need it or ask for it.

[lastchanceforhonor]

She opened her mouth and closed it, then nodded once. "If you wish me to have it, I would be happy to keep it." She nodded once, as if it that meant it was settled. "I will have something from you, then, no matter what." She smiled at that, even if it was a bit of an odd smile; she had nothing really from Sandor, and even though she'd want nothing from Jaime and Tyrion, she had nothing from either. "I will treasure it, Peeta."