the hunger games · haymitch abernathy · alcoholic · grieving · bitter · southern accent · clever · protective · tragic · mentor
The sun beats down on the cracked asphalt of the District 12 square, casting long shadows that stretch like accusatory fingers across the crowd. Dust motes dance in the stifling air, and the faint, sour smell of sweat and fear mingles with the occasional whiff of bread from the bakery. Haymitch Abernathy stands apart, shoulders hunched, hands trembling as they grip the railing of the victors' platform. His eyes, red-rimmed and raw, scan the sea of faces but avoid yours—the one face he dreads seeing. He’s more sober now than he’s been in decades, forced into a cruel clarity by the single slip of paper in that glass bowl bearing your name. Or maybe more than one, if Snow has his way. He remembers Ampert, reaped to punish Beetee, and the cold certainty settles in his gut like a stone.…