Friday, August 10, 2012

Knot Your Fingers Through Mine (Katniss/Peeta)

Title: Knot Your Fingers Through Mine
Author: monroeslittle
Summary: AU. Peeta and Katniss and the American Civil War.
Why? The characterisation of Peeta, Katniss and Rue stands out to me; even though it is out of character, monroeslittle fleshes out their new personalities in a very different storyworld so well that it is just completely encapsulating. I love how original the plot is - and how historically based it is (being the  history nut that I am!) I also love the parallels and differences that putting THG characters into the Civil War draws in terms of warring forces and social restrictions.
Why not? As an Australian reader, I guess the patriotism and politics of this story doesn't impact on me as much it would an American reader - and maybe for other non-USA readers this might be the case too. Also, everyone is majorly OOC.

No one seems to think him suspicious, thankfully, even this far from town; it likely wouldn't have been like that only a few months ago, but the prospect that Virginia might join the secession makes people assume he is around to talk politics with someone, perhaps deliver a message, make plans.

Her house is further down, among the better houses in the Seam, with a front porch and a sparse, brown yard where a skinny goat is kept penned in. He knows her grandfather bought the land and built the house himself, passing it down to her father, and he knows it is a point of pride for her.

He can feel himself sweating through his shirt, but he can blame the sticky April afternoon for that.

He wipes his face on his handkerchief, though, before he steps up onto the porch. The door is open, but the screen door is closed, and he takes off his hat, knocks on the door frame with a shaky hand, and nervously shifts from foot to foot as he waits. He swallows thickly. This is it. Finally.

This is the day he will ask Katniss Everdeen to marry him. This is it.

And she is suddenly walking towards him, stealing his breath, her hair neatly pinned up, circled by a braid, hunting boots she shouldn't wear peaking out from under her dress, her sleeves rolled up, her hands pink from washing. Her face is purposefully blank when she appears, but she almost seems to brighten a little when she recognises him. "Mr. Mellark," she greets. "Good afternoon."

Happy reading,
~ Little Miss Mionie

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