those who wander [nofo]

The shrill cries from the district square seemed to shake the entirety of District 1 heart rattling rumble. The occurrence of another earthquake was unlikely, but the destruction that surrounded the District was still very much present and weighed heavily upon the hearts of many. The chances of the District ever really truly returning to normal were slim to none, but buildings and normal life had seemingly gone back to normal. The multitudes of crowds had dwindled down to coming across perhaps one or two other district people on a walk, not that he was complaining. There was nothing quite as disgusting as the filth that had filled the streets in the previous weeks. Lower districts groveled at the luxuries and begged for jewels for discounted prices and Peri could only shake his head.

Swing. The swishing sound of the glaive full force silenced the crowd. The gathering around the District square was the source of the rumbling, not another earthquake, however the crowds screamed with the same sort of urgency. The battle had barely raged on in the finale, Reyes Moreno, Peri could only scoff. An early choice for a winner in Peri’s mind, he watched disgustedly as he stood there as the smaller District 2 boy laid gash upon gash on his strong District 1 skin. A career showdown was always exciting, however this one wasn’t. The glaive came down on Reyes head, ending it all. Done. They had lost, again. Crowd screaming in distaste and disappointment, the overbearing sounds were contagious. Soon enough, Peri found himself slandering the dead boy who had barely tried at all. Failure, loser, a disappointment to the District. Never would the weakened boy be celebrated in this place again.

The building hatred rose within him, a bizarre feeling of wanting to scream and destroy. Before even realizing it, the garbage can that stood beside his angered body was kicked to the ground at full force. “What a loser!” The screams continued for what seemed like hours, but Peri’s anger had died down after about twenty minutes. It was too much effort to care for the trash that surrounded him. If the chance should arise, he would show Panem what sort of career should be in the games, though the odds weren’t in his favour. Bulkier and more determined boys lined the streets jumping at the opportunity to show the very same thing that he promised: honour to the District.

Today was a day off, a treat really. Work consumed his life like a leech sucking out his life force bit by bit. When there wasn’t training to be done, or work to do, it was time to sleep. Even at that, sleep eluded his grasps most nights leaving him alone in the dark, moonlight trickling from the dirty glass panes of his bedroom window. There wasn’t any way to win. Night’s without sleep had now become strategic planning sessions. The end of the games brought a sense of determination within the reluctant, lazy career. If he could map out any situation, and have a plan with it, there was no way on earth that he couldn’t win.

Work was becoming hard as well. Zircon, his father, was becoming sicker each day. The constant inhalation of polishing chemicals, dust, and constant bent over back hadn’t done wonders to his health. To say it in the most succinct way possible, someday soon, Peri wouldn’t be surprised to wake up and find his father on the deathbed. That itself arose such problems with the store, and his mother, and the family dynamic, yet Peri hadn’t even taken the time to consider what the death would do in his own heart. If his father died, the shop would be his to manage as his mother wouldn’t quit her job. Nothing would really change; the store had been his for months. Working every single day for hours on end had taken its tolls on the exhausted teenager more than training ever had. Running a business proved to be difficult and stressful. With money, inventory, polishing, and everything put together, Peri was surprised that grey hair hadn’t slinked down his ragged dirty-blonde hair.

A day to himself was now a miracle. Yet, there was nothing to do. He debated journeying to the training center and taking up some spear work, which was now his weapon of choice over the small blades he’d once been using. Instead, he found himself kicking the cobblestone roads of the District with no particular destination in mind, just to wander. Those who wander are not lost, or something like that. Still yet, there was no purpose to his escapade. Thoughts loomed through his mind, the shop, the training, the sickly father, but never the steps he was taking or the people ahead of him. The world had disappeared.