Cocoon
Effie sleeps on the small couch in his room most of the time, still too weak and exhausted to do much else. Her wounds are healing slowly but her nightmares now mirror his own.
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Hayffie Fanworks Challenge
Prompt # 7. Haymitch likes his fantasies; Effie does not
Effie Trinket adjusted the bangs of the shoulder length black wig, checking herself from all angles in the full length mirror. This wasn’t a usual look for her - black and white being too monochrome for her bright personality - but she was relishing in the opportunity to step outside the norm for a few hours. It was the Annual Gamemaker’s Costume Ball and Effie had been preparing for days to make an impression on all the big-wigs.
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The Hayffie Fanworks Challenge
Prompt #4 - Cupcakes
The meal at Katniss and Peeta’s had been superb that evening.
“So, I made dessert”.
With a flourish Peeta pulled back the cloth to reveal a stack of beautifully iced, jewel coloured cupcakes. Effie found herself salivating just at the sight of them.
“Oh Peeta! They look amazing!”
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Haymitch jumped as a large vanity case was dropped on the table. A petite blonde woman wearing a white vest slid into the booth next to him, a huge grin on her face. He tried to focus - she seemed sort of familiar…
Read moreAs the meeting draws to a close Plutarch Heavensbee approaches them.
“Effie Trinket! Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!”
She smiles back politely; he means well. Haymitch is still slouched next to her and Plutarch slaps him on the back jovially.
“Well, now you two love-birds are back together you can cheer this grump up!”
Plutarch follows this statement with a lecherous wink and a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Haymitch reacts by shoving his chair as far away from her as possible. He shoots a death glare at the gamemaker.
“Don’t be ridiculous Heavensbee.” He snaps.
Something constricts painfully inside Effie at his vehement and instant rejection, but she swallows it down. She knows he is right; it is ridiculous for her to feel this way.
“You are mistaken Plutarch,” she murmurs, “It is not like that at all.”
She can feel the traitorous blush rising in her cheeks, and once again she wishes that District Twelve had make-up with which she could cover herself – it was so much easier when she had her mask of powder to hide behind.
As they stand to leave she notices Haymitch eyeing her curiously.
Prompt: Effie hiding her feelings from Youthanizer, double drabble
The doctor tells him she is healing up just fine.
Sure, they’ve patched her back together but something isn’t right. She holds herself at unnatural angles, a marionette with broken strings. The bruises are mostly faded from sight but he can still see the hand-prints on her body.
The rebels tell him she is an asset to the team.
She is, as always, a whiz with information. She reports back her findings in a quiet monotone that scares him. He finds her working late at night, scribbling feverishly at plans and schematics. He is not sure when, or even if she sleeps.
District Twelve tells him she is a model citizen.
She follows the schedule on her arm precisely. A wraith in oversized grey, she limps in her hand-me-down boots and never complains. Stripped of her colours she is content to huddle in a corner and fade away.
He tries to tease her, to make her smile or fuss, but she looks a him with the vacant eyes of a stranger. When he reaches out to take her hand she flinches.
She’s not his Effie any more.
The doctor tells him she is healing up just fine.
He doesn’t believe it.
Prompt: Healing from fl-uorescence, double drabble
