'there is happiness
past the blood and bruise
past the cursed and cries
beyond the terror in the nightfall'
• where olwyn laurier
will do anything to protect
...
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chapter four
AFTER STALLING FOR as long as humanely possible, Olwyn Laurier took her last liberating breath of air in the confines of the small, stuffy lavatory, before stepping back out onto the corridor. Her fingers pushed flyaway, blonde hair away from her face, her mind distracted as she did so. Any emotion had long dissolved off the sixteen year old's face, replaced by a numb, void frown. Pivoting around the corner with echoing yet strong footsteps, Olwyn Laurier kept that same calm, strong-willed exterior as she passed both Peeta and Katniss' families on the way to say farewell to their children. Peeta's mother turned herself away, almost as if she wanted to put as much distance between herself and the mentor.
Keeping walking, Olwyn knew she should've kept her eyes on the door at the end of the corridor, but some invisible force told her to glance at the door to the room Katniss was in. Habits like that are never forgotten; especially ones like this that were engraved in the many scars on your heart. The three gathered outside the door looked to Olwyn as if she was abnormal; all for different reasons.
Mrs.Everdeen wore a similar expression to the young victor; one of past pain and hardship. Standing at her shoulder was Olwyn's least favourite human, Gale Hawthorne. His hard, cold glare fixated itself on the Laurier girl; as if she'd handpicked Katniss to go into that gruesome, televised death match. Olwyn could always remember Atlas remarking that the Hawthorne boy had a 'brain of fluff', and she wholeheartedly agreed. Gale didn't have the mental capacity to separate victors and the Capitol, tarring them with the same coal-tattered, dirty brush.
If Olwyn was going to provide any comfort, it wouldn't be to Gale. It was no surprise both of them despised each other; they so desperately yearned for a spot in the heart of the oldest Everdeen daughter; what made them different was the fact Olwyn, unknowingly, had her own special spot, whereas Gale had yet to achieve anything more than a complicated platonic one. He was trying to fill a hole that could only be filled by the other.
Olwyn could have kept walking, it seemed logical; the perfect way to get on that train and reevaluate her life with a whiskey, maybe a shower before Effie dragged them all together for lunch. But the preteen girl, standing a bit away from the two others, who had narrowly avoided being in Katniss' position and reminded Olwyn too much of herself, halted her pace. Prim's doe eyes were focused on the Laurier girl, a frown on her youthful face. To the surprise of both Prim and Olwyn, the victor didn't move as Prim stepped closer. Olwyn shot her a gentle smile; the kind her own mother used to comfort her when she scrapped her knees on cobblestone paths or burned her thumb on the hot stove. It was warm and sweet, like the sun on the first spring day or a loving embrace after a long day. Olwyn crouched down to meet the eyes of the sorrowful twelve year old, who reached out and clutched the older girl's hand as if it was her lifeline.
