halls of ghost [HG museam]

Artemis couldn't help but sigh in frustration as her history teachers droning voice filled the dark, empty hall. Artemis did not mind school, she actually cared for it enough to get good grades, enough to get her into the Peacekeeping Acadamy if becoming a Victor of the Hunger Games never played out. What she did not enjoy, was her history teacher. Or history for that matter- a compulsory subject she skipped freqeuntly, and passed only with a high enough grade to get by. Something about learning about Panem's history got a bit repetative over the years- there was only so many times you could learn about how the Capitol defeated the rebels during the Dark Days. 

And so when Artemis had learnt that her school was attending the Hunger Games museam, she had actually felt a twinge of something that might be considered excitement. A lesson beyond the classroom was almost unheard of, specially at the Private School Artemis attended where form and regulation was paramount and not following the strict timetable the School laid out would lead to a punishment, and so Artemis had actually begged her mother to sign her permission slip to allow her to go on the trip- for a moment, she had thought that this would mean the lesson would be exciting. 

Now, stood in the first Hall, where her History teacher had somehow found a way to talk about the Dark Days and how the lack of Potatoes at the battle of the Twin Rivers had nearly led to the Capitols downfall, she realised she had been mistaken. The young blonde bit back a groan as her History teacher drawled on and on. 

Rolling her eyes as her teacher began to ramble on in great detail about which type of Potatoes had been popular in the Dark Days in the Capitol, Artemis glanced to one end of the Gallery to the other. The museam was practically empty, apart from the occasional small family with children who were too young to go to school and a few other school groups, and Artemis did not even hesitate as she found her gaze falling on her teacher again as she slowly sauntered towards the end of the Gallery and into the museam. 

Despite the Museam having been opened for months, Artemis hadn't been. She'd been too busy- between training and school and generally avoiding her house as much as he could, she'd not found time to visit. The museam's long empty halls were dimly lit, the tall glass windows eitherside of the galleries cast long distraught rays of sunlight against the grey floors, golden flecks of dust rising to the domed ceiling before they disappeared all together. Aside from the walls and floors and roof, there was little to see except from 24 podiums- 12 on either side of the gallery- a small screen iin front of every one. 

Artemis knew if she walked up to one of them, she'd be able to call forward a tribute from a past games but not wanting to be caught playing hooky, Artemis walked as far as she could through the several, near empty, galleries until she had almost double backed on herself and come to one of the furthest galleries from her school group as she could go. She slowed, her hands in her trousers pockets, as her slowly sauntered over to one of the podiums, allowing her steel grey gaze to sweep over the room, ensuring it was empty before she dug her hand into her blazer pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes. 

Placing one between her chapped lips, Artemis perched against one of the podiums, the one for tributes from Eight which was obscured by a pillar from view from whoever was entering the gallery. as the click of her cigarette echoing quielty as the tip of her cigarette began to glow in the dimly lit gallery. She let out a small sigh as she inhaled and closed her eyes. Somehow the silence was somehow more exciting than hearing her history teachers droaning voice.

As Artemis took another, long drag of the cigarette between her long, worn fingers, she heard the echo of someone closing the galllery door behind them.