Annie is not fond of hospitals. In actual fact, she hates them. Hates the smell. Hates the blank walls. Hates the sounds that sometimes echo around. Reminds her too much of the cell in the Tribute Tower. Which all goes a way to explaining why there isn't a white wall in sight. Not here.
Operating theatres, yes.
But elsewhere, gentle colours. Plants in the waiting room, in the corners where they won't get in the way. A fan to stir the air on awful summer days, which will just increase because it's only the start of June and this is the eastern coast of the Gulf of Panem.
The hospital is still being outfitted, but parts of it are open: City One needs it to be. The reception area where Prim's been directed, though, that's only really open to builders, to doctors and healers, to merchants for supplies.
And for friends.
Annie hears her name, and sticks her head up over the ledge on reception's desk.
"Prim! You're early."
She pushes herself up out of the chair (or, more accurately, hauls) and walks around to greet the girl, and a couple things become apparent.
The first is colour. Even in the Capitol, in the first few weeks after the surrender, Annie had worn colour when she could. But she'd had to be careful due to politics, and besides, she was mostly altering Finnick's clothes and it was winter. But here, she is home. And home means flowing skirts, home means prints, home means multiple necklaces and some peonies in Annie's braided hair.
The second is that the small woman is very, very obviously pregnant. Not the people have been believing her when she says how far along she is. But you're so tiny, until Annie glares, until Annie stares at them flatly. Different women carry differently, or so her midwife and Marigold keep telling her when she worries and asks, yet again.
(She's a worrier, is Annie. And this is her baby.)
That aside, she's pregnant, and largely so, until she feels not unlike a ship when she walks around, her bump the prow that parts air and water and crowds.
"Weren't expectin' you until the midday train," Annie continues. Smiling, though. She likes Prim. She likes Prim, and Prim is here for the baby, and Annie is happy. Tired. Still stressed about many things. Still healing. But happy. "How are you?"
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Operating theatres, yes.
But elsewhere, gentle colours. Plants in the waiting room, in the corners where they won't get in the way. A fan to stir the air on awful summer days, which will just increase because it's only the start of June and this is the eastern coast of the Gulf of Panem.
The hospital is still being outfitted, but parts of it are open: City One needs it to be. The reception area where Prim's been directed, though, that's only really open to builders, to doctors and healers, to merchants for supplies.
And for friends.
Annie hears her name, and sticks her head up over the ledge on reception's desk.
"Prim! You're early."
She pushes herself up out of the chair (or, more accurately, hauls) and walks around to greet the girl, and a couple things become apparent.
The first is colour. Even in the Capitol, in the first few weeks after the surrender, Annie had worn colour when she could. But she'd had to be careful due to politics, and besides, she was mostly altering Finnick's clothes and it was winter. But here, she is home. And home means flowing skirts, home means prints, home means multiple necklaces and some peonies in Annie's braided hair.
The second is that the small woman is very, very obviously pregnant. Not the people have been believing her when she says how far along she is. But you're so tiny, until Annie glares, until Annie stares at them flatly. Different women carry differently, or so her midwife and Marigold keep telling her when she worries and asks, yet again.
(She's a worrier, is Annie. And this is her baby.)
That aside, she's pregnant, and largely so, until she feels not unlike a ship when she walks around, her bump the prow that parts air and water and crowds.
"Weren't expectin' you until the midday train," Annie continues. Smiling, though. She likes Prim. She likes Prim, and Prim is here for the baby, and Annie is happy. Tired. Still stressed about many things. Still healing. But happy. "How are you?"