2. No One Cares It's been a hell of a ride, and Johanna is knackered. Fresh off the plane from Panem - America, she hastily reminds herself - and still trying to deal with whatever the hell's just happened, she sinks down to the pavement, sitting with her back against the wall. She's not particularly bothered that she's sat on the floor; she's been through worse. She's definitely not scared - that earns a snort. Scared. What is there to be worried about in London? Her hand drifts to her pocket though, to her pen knife. Nowhere near as dramatic as an axe, but effective nonetheless.
She glares at people as they pass by. Let them think she's homeless if they want. She knows she looks a scruff with her janky hair and the old duffel bag next to her. She doesn't care. When she notices a person staring at her for longer than normal though, she sticks her middle finger up.
"Fuck off."
6. Burn It Up
It's a load of gimmicks, isn't it? Johanna sits alone, quite close to the fire, enjoying it's warmth. She glares around at the festivities though, with distain. She has no interest in any of this rubbish. It's like one of Snow's parties, all frivolity and no substance to it. It makes her sick, but in a macabre way, she feels like she should be there. Not that anyone's noticed her. Who would ever care about Johanna being there? She snorts a jeer and shakes her head. She would like to set fire to the whole of freaking London, and America along with it. Light the match, watch it burn, let it take her too.
Johanna Mason | Hunger Games | Werewolf
It's been a hell of a ride, and Johanna is knackered. Fresh off the plane from Panem - America, she hastily reminds herself - and still trying to deal with whatever the hell's just happened, she sinks down to the pavement, sitting with her back against the wall. She's not particularly bothered that she's sat on the floor; she's been through worse. She's definitely not scared - that earns a snort. Scared. What is there to be worried about in London? Her hand drifts to her pocket though, to her pen knife. Nowhere near as dramatic as an axe, but effective nonetheless.
She glares at people as they pass by. Let them think she's homeless if they want. She knows she looks a scruff with her janky hair and the old duffel bag next to her. She doesn't care. When she notices a person staring at her for longer than normal though, she sticks her middle finger up.
"Fuck off."
6. Burn It Up
It's a load of gimmicks, isn't it? Johanna sits alone, quite close to the fire, enjoying it's warmth. She glares around at the festivities though, with distain. She has no interest in any of this rubbish. It's like one of Snow's parties, all frivolity and no substance to it. It makes her sick, but in a macabre way, she feels like she should be there. Not that anyone's noticed her. Who would ever care about Johanna being there? She snorts a jeer and shakes her head.
She would like to set fire to the whole of freaking London, and America along with it. Light the match, watch it burn, let it take her too.