a walking study in demonology
Katniss/Johanna. 896 words.
Summary: Johanna was a dumb little girl once too, brasher and more brazen but not altogether different.
Originally posted here.
Somewhere deep in the dark recesses of Johanna, where there are only trees, she feels a twinge of sorrow seeing that dumb little girl in her Capitol wedding dress. Johanna was a dumb little girl once too, brasher and more brazen but not altogether different.
She stops Katniss before she makes it to the stage, stands behind her to fix the line of Katniss' long pearl necklace. The wind whistles through her trees and Johanna almost says you look real nice, Twelve, don't listen to Cashmere.
But what comes out is, "Make him pay for it, okay?"
---
Before that, before the wedding dress and after the elevator, Johanna is plucking off her fake nails, careless of the tiny burst of pain each time the glue separates from her real nails. The fake ones are unwieldy, silver at the tips and the rest painted to look like wood grain, cut at the top to look like miniature axes. The most creative thing Augustina ever came up with and of course they're ugly as fuck.
"Oh," Katniss says, at the door. "I didn't know anyone was up here."
Johanna drops each synthetic nail over the edge of the roof, waiting for them to come back up like rain falling. "Don't worry about me throwing you over the edge," Johanna says, just as the nails clatter around her again. "I'll wait for the gong to sound."
Katniss rolls her eyes, which Johanna likes. "I'm just glad you're wearing clothes," she says.
Johanna smirks at her a little. Clothes is somewhat of an overstatement; she's only wearing the silk robe Augustina gave her, patterned with overlapping green like leaves. She shifts her legs so the front opens all the way to her thighs, gapes at her chest. "I bet you'll be a virgin on your wedding night, huh, Twelve?"
Katniss colors, cheeks flaming as her costume had been. She looks crazy young for a minute, face scrubbed and hair plaited, dressed simply. Johanna is not so much older than her but she feels it.
"I'm just fucking with you," Johanna says, turning to look over the edge. She is still wearing her makeup, the gold lips and branches drawn onto her temples. She hadn't even taken out the fake hair. She's gotten too used to the stuff. "Promise you can take it out on me in training."
"Looking forward to it," Katniss says, before she turns on her heel and leaves. Johanna likes that about her, too.
---
In front of the elevator, Johanna's gaze slides sideways to Katniss and Peeta, their hands still clasped. She stifles a snort. "You kids sure looked great out there," she says. Her stylist has been an idiot since before day one, but that helped Johanna the first time around. Nothing builds credible weakness like being tarted up as scenery. "Isn't my costume awful? Wish I'd gotten Cinna."
Katniss momentarily freezes and then says, forcibly conversational, "Yeah, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet."
Johanna suddenly remembers Katniss' clearly manufactured talent and almost laughs; she's never seen a girl more uncomfortable in a dress. Besides herself, of course. What had Johanna's talent been? No one's asked her in years… Carving, she thinks. She spent all that time in the first year making those bullshit miniature carvings.
"I have," Johanna answers. "On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back."
Johanna's not exactly lying. She does remember that dress, the structured bodice and fitted skirt, the glittering embroidery. She remembers the shape of Katniss' body in that dress and the swell of her breasts, her pale skin against the rich fabric. Yeah, Johanna had wanted to rip it off her, alright.
Katniss, of course, probably doesn't even realize her implication.
So half to get a rise out of the girl on fire but with a good dose of flirtation too, Johanna unzips her dress and lets it fall, kicking it behind her. She does feel immediate relief, able to breathe unconfined at last. "That's better."
The minute widening of Katniss' eyes almost bring a smile to Johanna's lips, almost.
---
Johanna sits alone in her cabin in the Victor's Lodgings of District Seven. She's a lazy cook and she eats mac and cheese straight from the pot she made it in, stabbing each noodle viciously with her fork. Flickering on the wall in front of her is live feed from the Victory Tour, Miss Katniss Everdeen and her devoted puppy dog. The speeches have been scripted as fuck since that first debacle and sometimes Johanna throws things at the screen when she really can't stand it.
She doesn't like this girl, she decides, doesn't like anybody who holds themselves on a moral high horse, who plays to the cameras. But not everyone is like Johanna, not everyone has paid the price she's paid.
Johanna doesn't like Katniss, she decides without ever meeting her, but she's got to admit there's something about her. There's something in those flint gray eyes, something that sparks.
It doesn't hurt that Katniss is wearing a pretty boss dress. God, another thing to be pissed about, Johanna thinks; she was even screwed on stylists.
Katniss/Johanna. 896 words.
Summary: Johanna was a dumb little girl once too, brasher and more brazen but not altogether different.
Originally posted here.
Somewhere deep in the dark recesses of Johanna, where there are only trees, she feels a twinge of sorrow seeing that dumb little girl in her Capitol wedding dress. Johanna was a dumb little girl once too, brasher and more brazen but not altogether different.
She stops Katniss before she makes it to the stage, stands behind her to fix the line of Katniss' long pearl necklace. The wind whistles through her trees and Johanna almost says you look real nice, Twelve, don't listen to Cashmere.
But what comes out is, "Make him pay for it, okay?"
---
Before that, before the wedding dress and after the elevator, Johanna is plucking off her fake nails, careless of the tiny burst of pain each time the glue separates from her real nails. The fake ones are unwieldy, silver at the tips and the rest painted to look like wood grain, cut at the top to look like miniature axes. The most creative thing Augustina ever came up with and of course they're ugly as fuck.
"Oh," Katniss says, at the door. "I didn't know anyone was up here."
Johanna drops each synthetic nail over the edge of the roof, waiting for them to come back up like rain falling. "Don't worry about me throwing you over the edge," Johanna says, just as the nails clatter around her again. "I'll wait for the gong to sound."
Katniss rolls her eyes, which Johanna likes. "I'm just glad you're wearing clothes," she says.
Johanna smirks at her a little. Clothes is somewhat of an overstatement; she's only wearing the silk robe Augustina gave her, patterned with overlapping green like leaves. She shifts her legs so the front opens all the way to her thighs, gapes at her chest. "I bet you'll be a virgin on your wedding night, huh, Twelve?"
Katniss colors, cheeks flaming as her costume had been. She looks crazy young for a minute, face scrubbed and hair plaited, dressed simply. Johanna is not so much older than her but she feels it.
"I'm just fucking with you," Johanna says, turning to look over the edge. She is still wearing her makeup, the gold lips and branches drawn onto her temples. She hadn't even taken out the fake hair. She's gotten too used to the stuff. "Promise you can take it out on me in training."
"Looking forward to it," Katniss says, before she turns on her heel and leaves. Johanna likes that about her, too.
---
In front of the elevator, Johanna's gaze slides sideways to Katniss and Peeta, their hands still clasped. She stifles a snort. "You kids sure looked great out there," she says. Her stylist has been an idiot since before day one, but that helped Johanna the first time around. Nothing builds credible weakness like being tarted up as scenery. "Isn't my costume awful? Wish I'd gotten Cinna."
Katniss momentarily freezes and then says, forcibly conversational, "Yeah, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet."
Johanna suddenly remembers Katniss' clearly manufactured talent and almost laughs; she's never seen a girl more uncomfortable in a dress. Besides herself, of course. What had Johanna's talent been? No one's asked her in years… Carving, she thinks. She spent all that time in the first year making those bullshit miniature carvings.
"I have," Johanna answers. "On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back."
Johanna's not exactly lying. She does remember that dress, the structured bodice and fitted skirt, the glittering embroidery. She remembers the shape of Katniss' body in that dress and the swell of her breasts, her pale skin against the rich fabric. Yeah, Johanna had wanted to rip it off her, alright.
Katniss, of course, probably doesn't even realize her implication.
So half to get a rise out of the girl on fire but with a good dose of flirtation too, Johanna unzips her dress and lets it fall, kicking it behind her. She does feel immediate relief, able to breathe unconfined at last. "That's better."
The minute widening of Katniss' eyes almost bring a smile to Johanna's lips, almost.
---
Johanna sits alone in her cabin in the Victor's Lodgings of District Seven. She's a lazy cook and she eats mac and cheese straight from the pot she made it in, stabbing each noodle viciously with her fork. Flickering on the wall in front of her is live feed from the Victory Tour, Miss Katniss Everdeen and her devoted puppy dog. The speeches have been scripted as fuck since that first debacle and sometimes Johanna throws things at the screen when she really can't stand it.
She doesn't like this girl, she decides, doesn't like anybody who holds themselves on a moral high horse, who plays to the cameras. But not everyone is like Johanna, not everyone has paid the price she's paid.
Johanna doesn't like Katniss, she decides without ever meeting her, but she's got to admit there's something about her. There's something in those flint gray eyes, something that sparks.
It doesn't hurt that Katniss is wearing a pretty boss dress. God, another thing to be pissed about, Johanna thinks; she was even screwed on stylists.