~Roses I Send to You~
Summary:
Mysteriously, on the 25th anniversary since the end of the war against the Capitol, Katniss dies. The cause is found-poison-but even after 6 years no one knows who the culprit could be, nor why they used Nightlock of all things to murder the former Mockingjay. Thus, it is up to her daughter, Carolina, to secretly search for answers. Will she find more than what she bargained for?
Epilogue - BLACK
~there's no such thing as a black rose. they're only very dark red, like blood.~
I'm up, and dawn is still far from approaching; yet, all of the lights in my house are on, and in the corridor, a plastic vase of dark burgundy roses rests on an old scratched wooden table, directly sent from District Four and kissed with early morning dew. The windows are shut but they reflect deep woods around two sides and a small brook in the back, while the walls and ceiling are whitewashed, clean and polished from diligent care. A soft thud and then a few more resounding in my ears, I can already hear the supply truck driver knocking on the storefront's door downstairs.
A beautiful woman in a turquoise dress floats over to my father's side, his eyes turned towards her small figure. Her hair is dark but strands of light auburn are highlighted by the soft lighting in our house though I have to squint because it's covered by a white silk shawl. Her eyes are the color of a sea in a squall and like my dad's eyes, are surrounded by wrinkles gained from smiling without end. It's Aunt Annie. She's not our biological aunt, but she's the closest person to one, since our real one is dead. Next to her are a man about five years older, and their three sons who glance around and shuffle awkwardly, fixing their hastily put-on ties when they think no one is looking. The oldest is in his mid-twenties, handsome and with strikingly bronze hair that contrasts with his black haired younger brothers. They usually look at him with envy though right now they are focused on the main attraction, for lack of a better explanation.
In this home, no one is smiling. Some are crying, silently, though that mainly applies to my father. His blond hair streaked with silver, he already has more than enough stress, being in charge of the family bakery. Still, he blinks his blue eyes and steels them, building his façade. He says in a firm voice, "Carol, please go to bed. Now's not the time to be up."
I yawn and rub my eyes. "I heard a noise, and then Auntie Annie and everyone else came. Doesn't that mean that we should get them settled in?"
"Yes, normally…" His voice is tight and a clenching uncomfortable as he begins tremulously, but eventually, he reasserts himself. "Right now, it's too late for you to be up, so go to bed, and when you wake up you can help. The grownups have to talk now." He and the others form a barricade, preventing me from seeing his room.
"Tell Mommy goodnight and that I love her, OK? She's probably sleeping though," I chirp cheerfully before tiptoeing off to bed.
"Of course we will," Aunt Annie has to say because for some reason Dad has gone dead silent. She trails after me, helps tuck me in, and kisses me on the forehead, but her smile is blank and her eyes have a faraway look in them. I only shrug, and as soon as I close my eyes, I fall into a dreamless sleep that is so light I feel that I'm hearing everyone behind a black curtain.
Some whispers and murmurs are unintelligible though a soft sound permeates throughout all the hours I pretend to be asleep. When I stay still, I realize that it's my father weeping in the bathroom that's in between my brother's bedroom and my own, where he believes no one can hear him or at least, ignore him for the meanwhile.
Further away, I can hear the discussion of my aunt and her immediate family in my parents' room.
"She's dead," says the man with salt-and-pepper hair. He's our uncle from Annie's second marriage, the husband whom she had met in the southernmost region of District Four after her first son was born.
"Poor Katniss," Annie whispers, her voice faint but surging with sorrow. "Let's stay here for now. They need us, especially at this horrible time."
Her son, the one with the bronze hair, steps loudly as he approaches my father. "Peeta, are you sure you have no clue as to how she died? I mean, you slept right next to her, and there she was, dead."
My father's voice is bleak and mournful, as if he's announcing his own death, rather than my mother's. "I have no clue. I don't even know how she died. I'm a horrible husband; I could never truly protect her from these kind of things, but come on! Come on! It's been twenty—I dunno—fucking years, for God's sake! We're supposed to be safe!"
"Twenty five years," Finnick Jr. corrects. "It's the exact year the last Games are supposed to happen."
The sharp intake of breath from my father is what sends my blood chilling.
I didn't know what those "Games" were—I was only ten then—but already I was sick of hearing this teen's voice. I tried burying my head in my pillow to shut him out and ended up falling asleep, but according to my brother, I was restless and made so much noise that I was the only reason why he was up so early in the morning. Frankly, I couldn't care less. This morning or night or whatever was when I found out that my mom died. For six years, six years, they couldn't detect why, aside from that it was poisoning, poisoning from Nightlock apparently. That very word is why my father has become so withdrawn, why the entire family is busy converging in one isolated district where we all can wallow in the misery that's not over. I'd hate to imagine what other kinds of atrocities that my father plans on revealing to me, but that one word; it elicits sparks, and when there's sparks, they ignite a fire that sends me after my mother's murderer.
Nightlock is why I can remember it as if it was just yesterday night.
Author's Note:
This is my first time writing a fanfic. Please review and provide constructive criticism. This story is far from perfect, and I know it needs it, even though I'm horrible at taking it. But it's like medicine; what's needed is needed.
I know I've brought in a lot of unexplained characters who aren't canon, and already, I am on thin ice trying to expand on the more mysterious canons, but I plan to expand on them later, and maybe even give them semi-important roles. Also, I will elaborate on the names of the characters later on as well.
On another note, I'd like some help with ideas. I want to know what fellow fanfic writers and Hunger Game fans have to say and think about the children of our beloved protagonists. Maybe I'm portraying them a bit unrealistically, or maybe they don't have a lot of personality. To be honest, I seldom even have a concept of them. I wrote this grasping on a straw that I'm slowly expanding onto. After all, this all branched from a small prompt. So if you guys have any ideas for developing characters, the world, or the plot overall, I'd appreciate it if you'd share them.
Thank you!
