jo-hannamason:

With each ring, Johanna’s stomach twisted a new knot. By the time she heard Murphy answer, she was ready to puke. “Hello-hi.” Johanna cleared her throat, her cheeks heating up, the reasoning behind that unknown to her. “It’s Johanna. Johanna Mason.” She licked her dry lips and prayed that she didn’t puke while on the phone.

That would be just her luck. Finally plucking up the nerve to call the girl, only to ruin it by retching into the mouth piece while she emptied her stomach of her lunch.. yeah no thank you. But really, what was the point of being nervous? Johanna wasn’t a shy girl by nature. What about Murphy made her feel this way? It was maddening to think about, since the answer refused to come to her.

“I- I just wanted to call you and see how you were doing.” Johanna spoke in a rush, unsure why she was still talking and why she wasn’t giving Murphy a chance to talk.

A grin spread across Murphy’s lips at the sound of Johanna’s voice, clear and warm. She hadn’t been expecting a call. Still, when she got home from her encounter with the mentor she had imagined what it would be like to hear from her, see her again, other than as a figure on her television screen who seemed less real the longer she watched.

“Hi!” Murphy squeaked, flushing with both excitement and embarrassment, unbelievably glad Johanna couldn’t see her right now. “I’m glad you called.” Glad, ecstatic, relieved. She’d resolutely told herself not to get her hopes up, not to read too much into the actions of a woman like Johanna who was, even at a glance, complicated.

Padding across the wood floor of her apartment, Murphy threw herself down on the couch in her living room, smiling at the way Johanna spoke. Was she nervous? Or was that just Murphy projecting? She was nervous, terribly so. “I’m wonderful,” she said with a soft laugh. “How are you?’ Murphy would kick herself if this conversation dissolved into polite platitudes. “How are your tributes?” That was perhaps a private matter, but Murphy had taken an interest in the District 7 tributes this year, unfairly perhaps. Her parents frequently sponsored children from the Career districts, but Murphy was very tempted to convince them to put their wealth to use for Johanna’s tributes.

jo-hannamason:

Early afternoon found Johanna pacing around her room, glancing every now and again at the phone plugged in next to her phone. Clenched in her hands was the card Murphy had given her, though Johanna didn’t necessarily need it, since she now had the number memorized, but it gave her hands something to do. Johanna wanted to call Murphy, wanted to hear her voice again and wanted to maybe make plans to meet up again. There was only one problem, Johanna couldn’t bring herself to actually pick up the phone and dial the number.

Groaning in frustration, Johanna glanced in the mirror on the wall, giving herself a dirty look. “Don’t be such a baby,” she whispered to herself. “It’s just a phone call. A simple phone call.” She was a victor of the hunger games. Surely a phone call wasn’t as daunting as going into an arena filled with traps, dangerous beasts, and 23 other tributes who would gladly kill you at first sight. At least back then Johanna had had some sort of idea what she was doing. Her plan of coming off as the weak and least threatening tribute had worked like a charm. But calling Murphy? Johanna had no idea what her plan of action was. What would she say? What should she say?

Johanna had never done this before. Called another woman. Or even a man for the matter. They always came to her. Nothing serious had ever come out of her past interactions with both men and women. There had been some heavy flirting and maybe a few stolen kisses, but nothing more then that. Johanna definitely felt like Murphy wasn’t someone she just wanted to flirt with, or even a random hook-up. No, Murphy was someone special. She deserved more respect then a one-night stand or casual fling.

That was another problem. Did Johanna like her like that? Or did she simply enjoy Murphy’s company? Did she want friendship or a relationship? Johanna barely even knew Murphy, yet she felt connected to her in a way that was deeper then she even imagined possible. There was only one way to find out.

Gritting her teeth, Johanna marched over to the phone, picking it up ad dialing the numbers before she had time to stop herself. The ringing in her ears made her stomach tense up, bile rising in her throat, making her want to hang up. Growling in annoyance, Johanna gripped the phone tightly in her hand so she wouldn’t slam it back in the cradle. Taking deep and slow breaths, Johanna waited anxiously for Murphy to answer.

Murphy sat sprawled artfully on her bedroom floor, one leg stretched out in front of her and the other bent with her toes tucked by her knee as she leaned forwards at the hips to peruse the stack of photographs she held in one hand, lazily flipping through a glossy Capitol magazine with the other. There was only one publication she ever bought, and she did only when one of her reporters friends had a piece published. She didn’t like the nosiness and intrusive ways most of the stories in the magazine were uncovered, and she skimmed through without really reading.

She was feeling rather relaxed that day, having burned all her energy off on a long run that morning. The day was drifting away from her and she didn’t mind, never one to go chasing after lost time. One of her photographs caught her eye and she smiled at it, pulling it closer to her face to peer at the minute details of the City Circle. It had been taken on the day of the memorial for that mentor who passed away recently, and the crowd was made up of mournful black. She’d gone to watch from the balcony of one of the buildings that overlooked the City Circle and had caught a few photos of the day.

Murphy absently wondered if the mentor who’d died had been a friend of Johanna’s. She didn’t know how it worked, the life of a victor. Were they free to do as they pleased? Or were their limitations. She hadn’t had the chance to ask Johanna, and maybe she hadn’t wanted to either, because it was hard to look at a victor or a mentor and not wonder at what the Games had done to them. Murphy’s experiences were the typical ones of a Capitol citizen; sheltered and distant and she knew she’d been lucky, like all the children happily born in the Capitol, because the Games were something that happened to other people.

The blonde jumped, startled at the sudden ringing of her phone. She dropped the photos on the floor, on top of her magazine, and pulled herself to her feet, grabbing the phone off the kitchen counter where she’d left it, hitting the talk button and bringing it up to her ear. “Hello?” she spoke into the receiver, realising she hadn’t looked at the caller ID before answering the call.

(Source: naya-riveras)

(Source: bowtiesandhazeleyes)

jo-hannamason:

“Could you have been convinced to stay, anyway?”

Yes. Johanna almost said that aloud, but she stopped herself in time. She most certainly could have been persuaded to stay. To just forget her duties as a mentor altogether. For Murphy, the answer was yes. Instead of saying all of that, Johanna said instead, “Perhaps. If you used your right words.” Johanna laughed easily. “Unfortunately I can’t put my life on hold.”

Walking slowly, Johanna tried to prolong her separation from Murphy just a little longer. She found that she didn’t want to leave the blonde, and that no matter how much she knew she shouldn’t, she tried to drag out their final moments together. When she got back to the training center, she would have to set her mind to Fern and Rowen and the fast approaching games. While she could, Johanna wanted to soak in Murphy’s positive energy and memorize the planes of her face.

Getting away from the center was not something Johanna was able to do everyday. Today had been a rare opportunity. While she wasn’t kept on watch like the tributes, she wasn’t exactly free to roam about as freely as she would have liked. Johanna guessed it was because the Capitol wanted the mentors to remember they were just as much a game piece as the tributes. So the fact she was able to go out alone had been a nice surprise, but Johanna doubted it would happen again soon. Hence why she was lingering with Murphy and trying to memorize as many details as she could.

“I suppose I should thank you,” Johanna said quietly, jerking herself from her thoughts. “For today. And the coffee. Even for the coffee cake.” She glanced at Murphy, a smile playing on her lips. “Which was pretty damn good.” She stuck her hands in her pockets, looking straight ahead. Was that really going to be her only memories of Murphy? Coffee cake? Johanna grew irritated with herself. Why did she want things to remember Murphy by? The games were coming up. And after the games were over, provided one of her tributes didn’t win, Johanna was going back to Seven. Back to the too big and too empty house in the victor’s circle. She should just forget Murphy while there was hardly any memories filled with the blonde’s face or associated with Murphy. That was the smart thing to do. But when had Johanna done the smart, logical thing?

The back of Murphy’s neck tingled pleasantly as she got the feeling Johanna was going to say something else. She didn’t know what it would’ve been, what her answer might’ve been, but Murphy tried to imagine her smiling and saying yes and giving her a look that maybe spoke louder than all the words she could speak. What she did say was almost careful, if quite playful. “My right words?” Murphy repeated with a grin. “Now I’m curious. Maybe next time I’ll know just what to say.” She was being presumptuous again, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Unfortunately I can’t put my life on hold. Murphy was inexplicably saddened by this comment. It was probably true; definitely true, even. But she wanted to be a part of Johanna’s life. She wanted to be her friend and talk to her again the way they had, but she probably had more than enough friends. Maybe in her District she had family and people who loved her and who she loved. Murphy was just some girl who’d shown her a decent coffee place.

When Johanna thanked her for exactly that, Murphy couldn’t help but chuckle. Even for the coffee cake. “It is fantastic, right?” she said, smiling lopsidedly before her expression settled into something more serious. “But… you don’t have to thank me. I had fun. It was really nice talking to you, Johanna Mason.” 

They were outside the Training Center now. The walk was short and barely worth the time and yet Murphy had somehow wished it would drag on for hours just to give their conversation the time to reach its proper end. It didn’t feel final enough, saying goodbye to Johanna, and for the first time Murphy started to think they might just see each other again. She couldn’t have this feeling of unfinished business for the rest of her life; it wasn’t right, it wouldn’t work. So she turned to face Johanna and sighed.

“Good luck with your tributes,” she said warmly. “And with everything.” She fished around in her bag until she found the rectangular card with her details printed on it. Her father had made them for her after she started looking for work. It read Marcella Fairvine with her phone number and address beneath her name, but now she plucked a pen from the depths of her bag too and crossed out Marcella, scrawling Murphy in its place before she held it out to Johanna. “If you ever need to get in touch with me, for any reason. I’m a call away. Promise.”

(Source: murphy-fairvine)

jo-hannamason:

“I’ll walk you back.”

Johanna felt unsure how to react. Never had she encountered someone quite like Murphy. So carefree, yet so in control. Nor had Johanna met a person this determined to spend as much time with her as possible. Or at least that’s how Johanna saw it. Maybe Murphy was just being polite and wanting to see that she got back to the Training Center without harm. However, Johanna preferred to think Murphy was sticking around for the company.

“Alright,” she said slowly. She stood up, chewing on her bottom lip. Why wasn’t she saying goodbye? Why was she letting Murphy stay and walk her back? Murphy was like a drug. A drug Johanna couldn’t afford.

“You really must see some more of the city. When you get the time…”

Johanna looked at Murphy. She smiled wryly. “Time. That is one thing I don’t have right now. I’ve already spent time I don’t have on you.” Johanna coughed, quickly backtracking. “I mean, I had a good time with you. It wasn’t wasted time. But I lost track of time.” Looking into Murphy’s clear blue eyes, Johanna couldn’t help but smile. Murphy was so beautiful, but it was her eyes that drew Johanna in. “Anyways,” Johanna said roughly. “Let’s get going if we’re going to go.”

She annoyed herself so much. She shouldn’t allow herself to get into situations like this. Johanna should have refused the offer for coffee right from the start, avoiding all contact with the citizens of the Capitol. If she had, maybe she wouldn’t be wanting to tell Murphy that it was okay, they could sit back down and finish their coffee, and continue talking. But if there were two things Johanna had never been good at it was expressing her feelings and keeping herself from getting hurt. Johanna could already tell that it would hurt a lot to lose a girl like Murphy. The blonde was one in a million and the kind of girl you held onto for life.

Murphy sensed Johanna’s reluctance and was beginning to think she was overstepping her station, or basically just making a nuisance of herself. She promised herself she’d pull back a little and not come off quite so strongly; just because Johanna had humoured her this far didn’t mean she wanted to keep doing so. Johanna reminded her almost of a wild animal, suspicious and hostile and reaching out slowly, all senses alert for danger. It was almost sweet, but Murphy’s tread wasn’t light when it came to other people. She had a habit of getting too personal too quickly, and she had a feeling Johanna wasn’t used to that.

Despite the sudden urge she had to take more pictures of Johanna. The desire to have her smile and laugh and get it captured on film was overwhelming, and one completely isolated event with her wasn’t enough to encapsulate it all. She was beginning to rack up promises, fleeting thoughts that said she should try to engage Johanna more, but she wasn’t sure how to do that yet.

Her thoughts scattered like butterflies when Johanna started speaking again. I mean, I had a good time with you. It wasn’t wasted time. Murphy smiled at that, but she was thinking about what it must feel like not to have enough time. The Capitol inspired a sense of ease and relaxation that kept most of its citizens moving at their own paces. She’d definitely done exactly that for much of her life. A part of her knew that the lazy insousiance fo the city was unhealthy, but it gave her the chance to admire the basic things in her life.

Johanna was not a Capitol citizen though. She was born and raised in District 7. She wasn’t a Career either, just a girl who’d won the Games, and maybe time moved faster for her. Maybe she moved faster. Murphy wondered how she could keep up with that. “I had a good time, too,” she said warmly. “You’re very good company, Johanna.” Let’s get going if we’re going to go. Murphy laughed and stepped out of the cafe onto the street and said over her shoulder, “Could you have been convinced to stay, anyway?”

(Source: murphy-fairvine)

rona-gaines:

“My mother is Rhea Fairvine.”

Rona inhaled sharply. She was in the presence of a legend. Or, a legend’s daughter if you wanted to get technical. But Rona was pretty sure, with the way Murphy dance, the girl could be just as great a legend as her mother had been. “Wow. What was that like? Growing up with a woman like her?” Rona clucked her tongue. “Was it hard? I know some people who expect their children to be as successful as they are. While some are so relaxed, the children run wild. And then there are some-” Rona cut herself off, laughing at herself. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling! I’m just… Wow. Rhea Fairvine. When I was younger I wanted to be exactly like her.” Rona bit her lip, worried that Murphy heard this all the time and was sick of it. She was sure, that with a mother like Rhea, Murphy was often stuck in her shadow. Maybe she was resentful, many she wasn’t. Rona just didn’t want to start off by gushing about her old idol.

Murphy began speaking and Rona listened, only sighing a little when Murphy questioned -in the nicest way possible- why she was there. It seemed that Rona was not only an oddity in the Capitol, but an oddity here in the resistance. Was it so hard for people to believe that a girl like her would want to be free?

“I’m here to try and do the same thing you are.” Rona said calmly. “Help free Panem from this sham of a government.” She gave a genuine smile. “Besides, my friend is involved and since she knew I am tired of the Capitol, she brought me here. I’ve made some great friends and am glad to be helping out such a great cause.”

Rona shook her head slightly. It was official. She was a rambling robot. She either went into gush mode, or interview mode. Was there no happy medium?

Murphy tried her best to pick her words, as carefully as she could. “It was hard, at times,” she said with a smile to offset any colder meaning in her words. “My mother expects the best everyone, especially herself.” She shrugged her shoulders, wondering if it sounded forced when she called Rhea ‘mother’. Since she was a kid she’d been Rhea, because the idea of calling her mum made both of them uncomfortable. In public they were the perfect family, though. Rhea had tried to make it seem like they had no problems, not even the normal mother-daughter stuff that most people dealt with, but Murphy wasn’t under her thumb and she could tell the truth. Just not to Rona, because the last thing she ever wanted to do was ruin the image someone had of a person they admired.

She grinned when Rona admitted a desire to be like Rhea. Not something anyone should aspire to, but Rona was so sweet and unaware that it actually made sense. Murphy could appreciate that her adoptive mother was a talented woman, and once upon a time she’d tried emulating her too, when she was younger.

Her grin faded as Rona explained her reasons for doing this, for joining the resistance. She listened carefully, wanting to understand as best she could. Her reasons weren’t all that personal, or maybe she just wasn’t saying as much as there was. Still, they were enough for Murphy. She knew for a fact that the government was corrupt. Her own biological father worked for President Snow, and if a man like that could help run Panem, who else had slipped under the radar?

“I wouldn’t have thought a rebel movement would be the place to make friends,” Murphy said with a chuckle, turning sideways to face slightly away from Rona, beginning her warm down stretches. “What’s your favourite style of dance?” she asked, loosening her limbs after her long, arduous dance.

(Source: murphy-fairvine, via rona-gaines)

(Source: gangstagron)

(Source: quinngron)