[AW] Let the Fires Burn [ meeting ]

[Katniss]

Katniss had admittedly been preoccupied lately. When she had not performed well in the maze, she had gone in search of something - something that she did not quite understand the meaning of. Later, she learned that it was a quest for her bonded that had taken her away from Denocte. And then, she had traveled north, traveling to the plains where she came across Metaphor - the stallion that meant so much to her. After their reunion, she had gone into battle, to spar in order to show her queen that she was worthy of being called a Night Court soldier. Perhaps it would lead her to a promotion - at least that’s what Isra made it seem like. But as she lay in her small hut just outside the palace walls, she takes comfort in knowing that Metaphor and Finnick are close to her. They seem to make everything feel better and more homey. But as she lay dwelling on all the good things that had happened in her life recently, she hears the sound of the tolling funeral bells. Alarmed, she works at getting herself into a standing position, careful of the injured leg from battle. She hears the soft calling from Metaphor and she offers him a light nuzzle in thanks. She was not aware that anyone had died, so why are the bells tolling? She asks Finnick to come along, the bird soring just above her as she and Metaphor move towards the castle. Her pace is slow, her leg hurting far more than it did so soon after the battle. No doubt the soreness was finally kicking in. As she finally settles alongside Metaphor, he asks if the gathering is about the murders in Delumine. For once, Katniss fears that this is not the case. Why would Isra be worried about murders in another court. Speaking of Isra…where was her queen? She looks up at Moira, a mare she has yet to meet. She has only heard of her by name and by reputation. “I mean no offence…” Her voice trails off as she tries to find the right way to voice her concern and her question. “But why are you calling a gathering at this time of night instead of Isra?” She did not mean for her question to come off poorly, but she knew no other way to ask. Isra should have been the one to call this meeting. Eyes looked to the others gathered, to metaphor, to Pan, and to another she did not know.