[Some time after the jump--not too soon, because it's not like she cares--but eventually, most of her growths removed or reversed, safe/unsafe and clean and unhappy in her room, that's when she contacts her ol' torture buddy Peeta Mellark.]
Hi. Are you a disgusting-looking freak who can't carry on a conversation, or just a regular guy who can't carry on a conversation?
Ugh, can we not talk about Katniss? [Like this was going to be gossip and not something else.] Yes, I have seen Katniss. Everyone has seen Katniss. She was splashed all over screens and all in my face for months now, and I still can't get rid of her. I'm so tired of seeing Katniss.
And if you're asking me that because you want me to cut her throat for you, or something, take it somewhere else. I don't do that kind of thing. Not for you. [But she says it all bored, like they've had this conversation 1234955 times and she is just so over it. Best way to deal with PTSD and violent torture after-effects.]
[ Well it's certainly one way to deal with them!! Although in this case, Peeta sounds mildly agitated. ]
She looked like a— [ A mutt. It should be easy to say, reality finally lining up with what his brain's been screaming at him, but it doesn't quite fit. ] She still looks wrong.
Unseen, Johanna looks at her left shoulder. She hasn't bothered to wash out the bloodstains from her post-jump emergency surgery. Her mouth tightens a little--not at Peeta. He didn't cause the mutations--and as much as she likes throw blame around, even Johanna knows that this is different.]
I've got news for you, buddy. We all look a little wrong. You should see me. My skin is still disgusting, and I had these knobs, growing on my shoulders? Don't worry. I cut those off. [Her tone stays clipped, and quick, matter-of-fact. Whatever sympathy she feels, it doesn't show in her voice.] This place just loves screwing with us. Same old, same old.
[The 'us' is inclusive. She doesn't want to get too involved, in whatever's going on, because, again: it's not like she cares. So why she's saying anything at all--well, chalk it up to masochism, a little. Maybe.]
[ Which is completely true, though it's met with an uncertain delay. ]
I know.
[ Knows enough to say it, though it doesn't quite sound like he believes it. He hadn't exactly looked right last month, either, but things that should be obvious still turn into a tangled mess whenever Katniss is involved.
He rallies again a beat later, regaining a ghost of nonchalance. ]
You should go back to medical.
voice; you taught me well in the ways of the edit master kenobi
[She snorts, at both parts of that. Whatever Peeta knows, he doesn't know very well. Thank you, President Snow.]
Go back to medical. Oh, yeah, they'd love that.
[The ubiquitousthey. Whoever they are; whatever that means. Paranoia is a hard thing to lose.]
I don't want to say that the worst of it is over, because it never is. But I don't like being under anyone's watchful eye but mine. I'm staying here, and you're going to keep me company, just like this.
[ Bickering on the phone. Not that he has much else in the way of healthy socialization to compare it to, but the question's more honestly curious than mocking. ]
It sure is. This is the longest conversation I've had with anyone in three days.
[Because without the debilitating monster transformations, a nice phone call with a few tense PTSD moments thrown in counts as a positive social interaction, in Johanna Mason World. As if to prove how friendly and social she's being, Johanna puts a little bit of sassy scandal in her tone.]
Wait, are you just trying to get me to invite you over? Naughty.
[ Props for the terrible jokes. Unfortunately Peeta's a little too distracted to take the bait, or just doesn't bother; he doesn't laugh, and his tone doesn't change, still thoughtful and earnest. ]
And that's enough for you. Talking around things once a week.
[ It clearly isn't for him. His house arrest is almost self-imposed, at this rate, but it's not something he's enjoying. The question isn't accusatory; he's looking for the secret, something to make this enough. ]
[That comes out an exasperated sigh. Actually, her continued patience with this conversation should be an indication of some arguably real feelings that she's got for Peeta. Anyone else, and she would have hung up by now, or maybe gone down and slapped them.
Her tone doesn't soften. It stays clipped as she confesses, briskly--]
No. It isn't enough. Nothing is enough. But what else am I going to do? Cry on people's shoulders? Tell everything to some doctor? Start drinking? Haymitch would be proud, but my goals in life have nothing to do with making him proud. If that's what you're after, be my guest. Drink up. At least you'll make decent conversation with a few drinks in you, you're not even trying right now.
This way almost works. And by the way, I'm not the one trying to kill someone every twenty minutes, so I think I have a better idea of therapies that work and therapies that don't.
voice; lmao i like how my account expired and left me with zero movie icons (8 best rper
[ He's used to the tone. She's the only one who puts up with him, lately, and there's an odd comfort in the way she doesn't soften for him — doesn't treat him like he's on the edge.
Sometimes it ends disastrously, sure. But that's the case for any interaction, lately, so he'll take what he can get. The mention of Haymitch is distracting, drags his thoughts back to the cameras and the lies, and it adds a slightly cagey quality to his voice. ]
I'm not looking to make Haymitch proud.
[ fuck that guy tbh. For now, tune in tomorrow for less vitriolic feelings. That last part, the trying to kill someone, that grates. But he barrels right past it, letting it fuel almost childish impatience. Easier that than acknowledging its veracity. ] Fine. What did you want to talk about? Cutting off people's arms?
voice; please return to the rp house, pack your things, and immediately return home
[Good, Peeta, because you're not making him proud. Actually, no, oh my God this was a mistake, why does she put up with you stupid craps and all of your feelings. But fine, because Johanna likes Peeta, she lets him get that bitchy little remark out of his system, and there, finally, a chance for real conversation. Or their own personal equivalent anyways.]
Please. I'm over that. You better learn to keep up with fashion or I'll get bored with you. [She is, in fact, checking her nails right now. Still gross and dirty and unmanicured. Good.] No, we're going to play a game. You're going to tell me something interesting.
voice; no. argues w/tyra banks instead, makes scene, becomes internet meme!!
[ Dodging feelings is great, actually. Neutral ground is steady ground, lately. With the glaring exception of Katniss, everything about the ship is neutral. Sometimes also deadly and/or traumatizing, but it's not like they aren't used to that.
So when she deflects, he follows her lead, voice slipping into a lighter sort of wryness; still with a bit of bite, but very nearly good-natured. ]
I don't know if my definition of interesting is the same as yours. You might need to give me examples.
Do I have to do everything? It's like you don't even know me.
[So sarcastic, even if it's mostly true--though they've had a bit of time to grow closer. Still, she keeps on indulging him.]
We'll make it an exchange. I'll tell you something interesting, then you tell me something interesting, and eventually, you'll figure out the kind of stuff I want to hear. Come on, I'm so bored. I'll even start. You can turn off the gravity in your room. Have you tried that yet?
You know the buttons, next to the door? The ones that control the lights and the temperature? I threw my phone at it. And I must have hit something, because it changed the gravity and it was really annoying.
[Now she just kind of sounds matter-of-fact about her irritation.]
Especially because I was still really hot. Now it's your turn. Tell me something interesting.
[ Just possibly lopsided, but they've already been over that. He sounds amused, though it quiets down a bit while he works out how to answer her question. ]
He can control it like it's his own arm. He held off one of the mutts with it— the ones from the 74th Games.
[ The wolves, whatever they were. Peeta doesn't have to ask if she'd watched the coverage, not when they'd been up against each other in the 75th. Homework, same as her victory had been for him. ]
[That is interesting, in a slightly perverse sort of way. It's not like there's any honor or glory in losing a limb--and even if there was, that's not the sort of thing that Johanna is into. But even all of Johanna's bitterness doesn't stop her from thinking that someone with an arm like that is someone she probably wants to meet.
Except before she says any of that, or even really thinks it, wariness shades in to her tone.]
What do you mean, he held off a mutt with it. When did that happen. [More importantly--] They were here?
[ It's the only honest answer he has, though it sounds like he's thinking it through even as he says it. It'd been real. It had felt real, registered on every one of his senses, but it still shouldn't have been possible. Even the Capitol had limits; the ship's surpassed them. ]
The hallways. When they changed— I thought I was back at the Capitol. The mutts were there.
[Johanna's answering silence goes on for too long and she knows it. Hallways that change, monsters from nowhere. Everyone's told her things just like this, but it was easy to assume that they were exaggerating, that they were just scared. The ship is bad, she knows, but it can't be that bad. Not after where she's been.
Having Peeta be the one to say it makes it different. It shouldn't, but it does. She's just as stupid as the rest of them, just as weak and as dumb--there's a little door, in her head, and it opens onto a white hallway. The hum of electricity, never loud enough to keep out the screams.
There's an itch in her hand, a desire to just hang up the phone and end this. But she doesn't--instead, eventually, she breaks her silence with a laugh. It's too loud. This was supposed to be a game. She shouldn't be this easy, not after everything.]
And you're sure, that it's not the Capitol running this show. Because I think this shit is getting more familiar by the day.
[ Reading people used to be easy. There are still moments of clarity, when conversation's so far removed from himself and Panem that memories can't get in the way. Even with Johanna, it's difficult — whatever clarity he gets from her is frantic, run through a filter of white walls and screams, her face covered in blood. He can't even remember if that's just the 75th Games, the sight of it tangled up in what came after.
Even when he's got it right, there's nothing truly lucid about it. He knows that her silence is heavy, complicated. Knows there's anger and fear in it, though he's never quite decided if she dropped the distinction between the two feelings somewhere around her first games or well before. Part of him wishes he could take back the words that caused it, but he just sounds detached when he replies. ]
Does it matter? We're here. There's no Mockingjay to break us out.
[ Katniss, yes. The machine behind her, the people with the real power, the ones playing them all, they're not — chess pieces can't move themselves. ]
[She spits out the word, her sudden twist of anger in stark contrast to his quiet detachment.]
Fuck the Mockingjay. I was never doing any of it for them. If it's the Capitol, I want to know, so I can personally get involved. [guess how if your guess involves axes you win] Don't tell me you'd really stay out of it. After everything that happened?
[Which is maybe a shade too close, a mere step away from the white hallways and the screaming. Johanna opts to white-knuckle it, careening right through without stopping or thinking.]
If it's the Capitol, I want to help peel some pretty perfect skin off of some pretty perfect skulls.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
voice; hi before i forget
Hi. Are you a disgusting-looking freak who can't carry on a conversation, or just a regular guy who can't carry on a conversation?
voice; hello!!!!
Have you seen Katniss?
[ Somewhat stilted, said after an obvious pause. ]
voice; kisses!!!
Ugh, can we not talk about Katniss? [Like this was going to be gossip and not something else.] Yes, I have seen Katniss. Everyone has seen Katniss. She was splashed all over screens and all in my face for months now, and I still can't get rid of her. I'm so tired of seeing Katniss.
And if you're asking me that because you want me to cut her throat for you, or something, take it somewhere else. I don't do that kind of thing. Not for you. [But she says it all bored, like they've had this conversation 1234955 times and she is just so over it. Best way to deal with PTSD and violent torture after-effects.]
voice;
She looked like a— [ A mutt. It should be easy to say, reality finally lining up with what his brain's been screaming at him, but it doesn't quite fit. ] She still looks wrong.
voice;
Unseen, Johanna looks at her left shoulder. She hasn't bothered to wash out the bloodstains from her post-jump emergency surgery. Her mouth tightens a little--not at Peeta. He didn't cause the mutations--and as much as she likes throw blame around, even Johanna knows that this is different.]
I've got news for you, buddy. We all look a little wrong. You should see me. My skin is still disgusting, and I had these knobs, growing on my shoulders? Don't worry. I cut those off. [Her tone stays clipped, and quick, matter-of-fact. Whatever sympathy she feels, it doesn't show in her voice.] This place just loves screwing with us. Same old, same old.
[The 'us' is inclusive. She doesn't want to get too involved, in whatever's going on, because, again: it's not like she cares. So why she's saying anything at all--well, chalk it up to masochism, a little. Maybe.]
voice; heh heh edits
I know.
[ Knows enough to say it, though it doesn't quite sound like he believes it. He hadn't exactly looked right last month, either, but things that should be obvious still turn into a tangled mess whenever Katniss is involved.
He rallies again a beat later, regaining a ghost of nonchalance. ]
You should go back to medical.
voice; you taught me well in the ways of the edit master kenobi
Go back to medical. Oh, yeah, they'd love that.
[The ubiquitousthey. Whoever they are; whatever that means. Paranoia is a hard thing to lose.]
I don't want to say that the worst of it is over, because it never is. But I don't like being under anyone's watchful eye but mine. I'm staying here, and you're going to keep me company, just like this.
voice; :>
[ Bickering on the phone. Not that he has much else in the way of healthy socialization to compare it to, but the question's more honestly curious than mocking. ]
voice;
[Because without the debilitating monster transformations, a nice phone call with a few tense PTSD moments thrown in counts as a positive social interaction, in Johanna Mason World. As if to prove how friendly and social she's being, Johanna puts a little bit of sassy scandal in her tone.]
Wait, are you just trying to get me to invite you over? Naughty.
voice;
And that's enough for you. Talking around things once a week.
[ It clearly isn't for him. His house arrest is almost self-imposed, at this rate, but it's not something he's enjoying. The question isn't accusatory; he's looking for the secret, something to make this enough. ]
voice;
[That comes out an exasperated sigh. Actually, her continued patience with this conversation should be an indication of some arguably real feelings that she's got for Peeta. Anyone else, and she would have hung up by now, or maybe gone down and slapped them.
Her tone doesn't soften. It stays clipped as she confesses, briskly--]
No. It isn't enough. Nothing is enough. But what else am I going to do? Cry on people's shoulders? Tell everything to some doctor? Start drinking? Haymitch would be proud, but my goals in life have nothing to do with making him proud. If that's what you're after, be my guest. Drink up. At least you'll make decent conversation with a few drinks in you, you're not even trying right now.
This way almost works. And by the way, I'm not the one trying to kill someone every twenty minutes, so I think I have a better idea of therapies that work and therapies that don't.
voice; lmao i like how my account expired and left me with zero movie icons (8 best rper
Sometimes it ends disastrously, sure. But that's the case for any interaction, lately, so he'll take what he can get. The mention of Haymitch is distracting, drags his thoughts back to the cameras and the lies, and it adds a slightly cagey quality to his voice. ]
I'm not looking to make Haymitch proud.
[ fuck that guy tbh. For now, tune in tomorrow for less vitriolic feelings. That last part, the trying to kill someone, that grates. But he barrels right past it, letting it fuel almost childish impatience. Easier that than acknowledging its veracity. ] Fine. What did you want to talk about? Cutting off people's arms?
voice; please return to the rp house, pack your things, and immediately return home
Please. I'm over that. You better learn to keep up with fashion or I'll get bored with you. [She is, in fact, checking her nails right now. Still gross and dirty and unmanicured. Good.] No, we're going to play a game. You're going to tell me something interesting.
voice; no. argues w/tyra banks instead, makes scene, becomes internet meme!!
So when she deflects, he follows her lead, voice slipping into a lighter sort of wryness; still with a bit of bite, but very nearly good-natured. ]
I don't know if my definition of interesting is the same as yours. You might need to give me examples.
voice; tyra is secretly proud u go grl 8,)
[So sarcastic, even if it's mostly true--though they've had a bit of time to grow closer. Still, she keeps on indulging him.]
We'll make it an exchange. I'll tell you something interesting, then you tell me something interesting, and eventually, you'll figure out the kind of stuff I want to hear. Come on, I'm so bored. I'll even start. You can turn off the gravity in your room. Have you tried that yet?
voice; thank tyra
[ Sounding a little bit offended, because why the fuck would you turn off the gravity in your room. Sounds like a mess waiting to happen. ]
How did you find that out?
voice;
[Now she just kind of sounds matter-of-fact about her irritation.]
Especially because I was still really hot. Now it's your turn. Tell me something interesting.
voice;
There's a man here— he has a metal arm. I think it's more advanced than anything the Capitol could come up with.
[ Since you're so into amputation, and everything. ]
voice;
Aww. Don't sell yourself short. That's funny, because without your metal leg, you'd be short.
[cripple jokes that are overly explained you better laugh Peeta this is the height of humor. but okay she's mildly interested--]
What does it do, that it's so great?
voice;
[ Just possibly lopsided, but they've already been over that. He sounds amused, though it quiets down a bit while he works out how to answer her question. ]
He can control it like it's his own arm. He held off one of the mutts with it— the ones from the 74th Games.
[ The wolves, whatever they were. Peeta doesn't have to ask if she'd watched the coverage, not when they'd been up against each other in the 75th. Homework, same as her victory had been for him. ]
voice;
Except before she says any of that, or even really thinks it, wariness shades in to her tone.]
What do you mean, he held off a mutt with it. When did that happen. [More importantly--] They were here?
voice;
[ It's the only honest answer he has, though it sounds like he's thinking it through even as he says it. It'd been real. It had felt real, registered on every one of his senses, but it still shouldn't have been possible. Even the Capitol had limits; the ship's surpassed them. ]
The hallways. When they changed— I thought I was back at the Capitol. The mutts were there.
voice;
Having Peeta be the one to say it makes it different. It shouldn't, but it does. She's just as stupid as the rest of them, just as weak and as dumb--there's a little door, in her head, and it opens onto a white hallway. The hum of electricity, never loud enough to keep out the screams.
There's an itch in her hand, a desire to just hang up the phone and end this. But she doesn't--instead, eventually, she breaks her silence with a laugh. It's too loud. This was supposed to be a game. She shouldn't be this easy, not after everything.]
And you're sure, that it's not the Capitol running this show. Because I think this shit is getting more familiar by the day.
voice;
Even when he's got it right, there's nothing truly lucid about it. He knows that her silence is heavy, complicated. Knows there's anger and fear in it, though he's never quite decided if she dropped the distinction between the two feelings somewhere around her first games or well before. Part of him wishes he could take back the words that caused it, but he just sounds detached when he replies. ]
Does it matter? We're here. There's no Mockingjay to break us out.
[ Katniss, yes. The machine behind her, the people with the real power, the ones playing them all, they're not — chess pieces can't move themselves. ]
voice;
[She spits out the word, her sudden twist of anger in stark contrast to his quiet detachment.]
Fuck the Mockingjay. I was never doing any of it for them. If it's the Capitol, I want to know, so I can personally get involved. [guess how if your guess involves axes you win] Don't tell me you'd really stay out of it. After everything that happened?
[Which is maybe a shade too close, a mere step away from the white hallways and the screaming. Johanna opts to white-knuckle it, careening right through without stopping or thinking.]
If it's the Capitol, I want to help peel some pretty perfect skin off of some pretty perfect skulls.