As Katniss looked at her reflection in the mirror, she cannot help but notice the changes in her body over the last few months. Not only is her body changing in response to her pregnancy, but she can see that there is very little life left in her eyes. Ever since her lover so tragically passed, Katniss had been locked away in a depressive state, unable to see the beauty and happiness in the world. Darkness seemed to consume her, even if she still maintained her duties as Isra’s Champion of Battle. There was a shell of the mare that she used to know, one that she hoped to see fill out a little more as soon as her child arrived. She had to be strong for her baby. She had to share with him just how much his father loved him and just how much his father wanted him. The love she had for Metaphor would be hard to describe to him, but she hoped he would see it though her actions.
And while she was silently reflecting on all these things, she can see that she is not alone. The blue roan is standing just across the isle, her eyes meeting the red void that could be described as Katniss’ own eyes. She blinks softly, her lips unable to speak. Thankfully, it is the mare who steps forward, closing the distance between the two of them.
At one point in her life, Katniss used to be the one who would greet each and every soul with a happy smile that seemed so full of life. She forces a smile as the other comes to stand alongside her, the action so desperately trying to pass as genuine. If only the woman knew the pain she lived with each and every day, she might forgive her lack of enthusiasm and forced expressions.
She apologies for staring and Katniss only gives her a silent nod. So many stared these days. Even though Katniss had never told a soul what her love with metaphor had produced, it was plainly obvious what had transpired. And if people did the math, they would realize that her child’s conception happened so soon before his death. In fact, the child that grew within her was conceived only hours before her lover’s untimely demise. “It is a natural reaction to stare…” Warriors simply did not have children. Katniss could hardly blame anyone for wondering why she had made the choice to have a child when her position of power demanded her to be ready for war at the drop of a hat. Some wondered if she could do battle in her state or if she would let her court down. Thankfully, such a choice had not come up for her. Because with Metaphor’s death, she might possibly chose this child over her duty.
As she comes to stand alongside her, Katniss turns her head ever so slightly so she might look the other into her eyes. She listens quietly as the other mentions that she was trying to place a face with a name. She recognized her as someone important, but formal introductions had not yet been made. “Please, it’s just Katniss.” Even when she had been queen, she never referred to her title. It gave unrealistic expectations and she preferred to just be upfront and real with those she served. And even know, as Isra’s Champion of Battle, she was still just Katniss.
Slowly, she looks away and back into the mirror. She sighs as she sees the way the child kicks at her ribs, her flesh jumping at the sudden attack. “Come, walk with me.” And slowly she turns and steps forward, only going a pace or two before she cranes her neck behind her to see if the other is following. After all, she does not want to leave the other behind. “Might I do the same? Ask a name to put with your face?” She had seen the woman before, but she couldn’t be certain if she actually knew her name. Katniss liked to think that she was good with names, but a lot had happened recently and her memory was less than reliable as of late.
@Kassandra
