ourshinycity | (no subject)

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It was sunset.

Peeta had been up since before dawn and yet here he was, standing on the beach as the sunset against the water. He had an easel set up in front of him, a collection of paints next to him in the sand. There was a thoughtful expression on his face as he considered the scene in front of him. His fingers were covered in a mix of flour and paint, but he paid no attention to it. Tucking his paintbrush behind his ear, he dabbed an index finger into the paint and sketched a muddled line across the canvas, adding to the half-started scene that was already there.

He took a step back, considering his work. There was something missing even if he couldn't place his finger on what. Sighing softly he ran a hand absently through his hair, leaving faint streaks of blue behind as he looked around. Spotting someone else on the beach, he smiled and raised his hand in greeting.

"Enjoying the sunset?"

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Although her feelings on Tabula Rasa are still contradictory at best, Jenny couldn't deny even if she wanted to that the scenery is beautiful. In fact, that seems, at times, to be this place's saving grace — that, of course, and the fact that what she did hasn't followed her here, except sometimes it feels like it has, so that doesn't really count. Now, though it's getting late and there are probably any number of other things she could be doing, homework for the classes she's signed up for included, she can't bring herself to leave the beach, where she's spent the better part of the afternoon. Sunsets never looked like this back in Twickenham. It has a way of making her feel lucky to be here after all.

Sandals dangling from one hand, a cardigan pulled over the swimsuit she has on, she keeps her gaze turned out towards the shore as she walks. That is, until a familiar voice stops her. Turning in Peeta's direction, she smiles, nodding in response. "It's lovely," she says, chin lifting out of curiosity as she heads a little closer. "So is this. I didn't know you painted."

A sheepish, half-embarrassed smile spread across Peeta's face at the complement. He had been told that he did good work before, but that never stopped him from feeling a bit odd after being complemented. Part of him wanted to shrug it off, dismiss it as being another kindness, but instead he decided to be polite. "Thanks. I'm not entirely certain what it is yet, but I think it has real potential."

His eyes scanned the canvas, looking for that thing he had a feeling the painting lacked. There was something just out of reach about it. Turning his gaze back to Jenny, he gestured towards her attire. "Out for a swim?"

"I was earlier, yes," Jenny says with a slight nod. She's mostly dried off now, which is good, the breeze rolling from the ocean enough to make her just a little chilly even now that she isn't damp anymore, but she wouldn't see the sense in going to the beach and not taking advantage of the ocean being right there. It'll lose its novelty, probably sooner rather than later, but for now, she means to enjoy everything that she can. She smiles, then, slow and almost teasing. "I'd go again, if you wanted. I'm sure this would be safe here."

"Um, thanks for offering, but I think I'll pass on this time. Maybe next time though?"

Admitting that he didn't want to go into the water because he couldn't swim very well wasn't something that he was going to admit to a pretty girl. Sure Peeta was better than he had been when he arrived, much less likely to drown than he had been but still not up to showing anyone. Noticing her shiver, he frowned slightly. "Are you cold? I could build a fire if you want."

"Could you?" Jenny asks, not even trying to pretend that the idea isn't appealing. She's not overly cold and it certainly isn't necessary, but she likes the fact that he could, fairly sure that she's never known anyone else who'd have been able before. She definitely hasn't ever seen it done. "That would be lovely. As long as you stay after."

"Yeah, I could." Brushing his hands on the back of his shorts, he bent down and closed the lids on the paints before standing. The light was fading too fast to get the painting done. It would have to be waited on until tomorrow.

"It might take me a little while, just to get some wood together." Peeta was already working to ready a spot, pausing with a piece of wood in hand to look at her. "Is that okay?"

"Of course," Jenny replies easily, nodding. It's not as if she really has anywhere she needs to be, and anyway, it'll be worth it. He's good enough company, one of the few people she really considers herself able to call a friend. "Let me know if... there's anything I can do." She doubts there would be, if only because she wouldn't have the first idea what to even look for, but it's the thought, she supposes, that counts.

Already fashioning a small pyramid of drift wood, Peeta shook his head. He dug a quick pit in the sand, reassembling the wood there before picking up his sketch pad and tearing out of sheet of paper. Opening the book that he kept his drawing supplies in he pulled out a box of matches, mostly used, but there were still just enough where one wouldn't be missed.

Striking the match, he shield it with his body and lit the crumpled piece of paper. Feeding the flames with small twigs there was a snap and crackle and soon enough a small fire had started. "There we go," he looked up from the flames satisfied that he could still get it to work without life or death on the lines. "We just have to watch it, but it should work."

All things considered, it's not like fire-building is a skill that Jenny has any desire to master. It isn't even one that she would rank that highly in other people, if the occasion arose to do so. She will admit, though, that it does seem useful, and there's something enjoyably atmospheric about it. Besides, he offered to do it just for her sake; that in itself makes the whole exercise worthwhile.

"That didn't take long," she says warmly, grinning over at him. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Come, let's sit."

Without the added pressure of starving or freezing to death if he failed, Peeta found the fire-starting experience to be a lot nicer. Back in District 12, his older brothers had taken turns starting the fires in the bakery. He could count on one hand the number of times that he had been tasked with that particular job. He could do it, he just didn't have to.

"Years of experience," he explained with a smile, moving to the other side to sit next her. "The wind makes it harder, but if it doesn't work, then it doesn't work."

"I suppose that would make it more difficult," Jenny says, thoughtful, drawing one leg up underneath her so she can angle towards him better, half-facing him and the fire both. It's nice like this, the fire and the sunset and someone sitting close, more like how she imagines an atmosphere like this is meant to be, rather than something that gets old so quickly. If they're going to have the beach and this weather, they ought to put it to use. "This one seems to be doing well, though."

"Yeah, it does," Peeta agreed with a nod of his head. His good leg was bent, the other one straight out in front of him. It wasn't that he couldn't bend his fake knee, he just was more comfortable not messing with it when he didn't have to.

Smiling at her, he nodded. "Feeling warmer? We might have to wait to get a bit more flame, but this should work."

"Much," Jenny answers with a nod, visibly pleased. It's worth keeping her sweater on, but there's something about this that's just cozy, and the fire really does help with the chill of the evening. That's one thing that's taken some getting used to, the way a tropical island can get so cool with the sun down and the breeze off the water. "And I don't mind waiting."

"Okay." Peeta was fine with waiting for it as well. He was in no hurry. The light that he had been using had been lost, the scene had changed entirely with the twilight. This was the sort of scene that would like to paint eventually, but there was no way that he could get it done now.

"How are you? Everything okay?"

"It's alright," Jenny says, lifting one shoulder in an easy shrug. There's a monotony to island life that she never has been and never will be fond of, much harder not to dwell on now that the exoticness of the place has worn off, but she's learning, at least, not to complain too much about that. It could be worse. Maybe she's just getting her due, unable now to have either the kind of life she wanted or the one she knew she needed to have. "It could always be worse, couldn't it?"

It was nonthreatening monotony. Peeta could understand how people could dislike the way that the days had a way of blending in with one another, he wasn't one of them. There was something nice about not having to worry about survival. About how things were less bleak here. He could appreciate it.

Laughing he nodded, trying to not think about how right Jenny was with such a simple statement. He knew how much worse it could be, but there was no need to say anything. "Yeah. It really could be."

All things considered, Jenny is well aware that her situation isn't nearly as bad as it could have been, either here or back home. That doesn't make any of it ideal, of course, but she can still acknowledge that she got off relatively easy. Her parents remained supportive, she wasn't pregnant; for a girl in her position, those are both fairly significant. She ought to be grateful. Now, she just has to try to remind herself of that.

"Not that I'd have chosen to be here if given half the chance," she adds, "but it does have its good points."

"I don't think many people would have, but you're right. It does."

There was an easy smile on his face as he thought about this. Peeta still wasn't certain that he would have picked this turn in his life, but he was certain it was better than the alternative. What Katniss had told him said that the road ahead was dark and dangerous back in Panem. This might be boring, but at least no one was dying.

"I think that's why people take up weird hobbies around here."

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