| Curiousity; (it killed the cat) | [Open]

I am a bird with broken wings,
Trapped in a cage made of ice cold things.
I am a (girl) who has lost her way,
Greeting the night but fearing the day.
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Luna.

It is scary that by now, it feels strange to have the name fall upon my ears. With it come memories that are already fading and dreams that are still so alive dying so that it hurts my heart to remember. I am Violet now, and though she is falling apart at the seams and losing her mind, I am her and she is me. Still, when I try to connect the name to myself, it is like I am trying to put together two puzzle pieces that don't quite fit. Luna glides in easier but the picture doesn't match up. So am I simply nameless now, broken pieces of a girl that wander in search of answers that aren't there? That's what it feels like- the forest has accepted me as one of its own, so that I am hardly more than a ghost that whispers through the mighty trees as the sun's final rays light the forest on fire. Scarlet, orange, and yellow chatter to each other quietly as winds begin to gracefully slip through them, opposing my movement as I force myself forward, though limbs that lost their strength long ago ache in protest. My head hurts, though I am uncertain as to whether it is from recent encounters or lack of nutrition.

Once, back when I was the mighty queen of the night with the stars inside of me and the moon my king, I could slip through the forest like a shadow, even when autumns colorful leaves hid the ground. It was an ability that all from District Nine had- we were hunters, after all. Now, lack of food makes me clumsy and loud- though perhaps a regular district citizen would not hear me, any wanderer or animal could easily hear me. Oddly enough, I don't really care anymore- my world now revolves around walking and walking and walking, not even searching anymore. Just taking one step after another, while the golden sun at my throat burns me when nothing else can. I'm beginning to scare even myself as I stare through the world through the tinted black glasses that hide my secret (curse) from anyone who would be willing to use it against me.

Or use it to recognize me.

As I made clear during my last encounter, I do not wish to be found. I simply wish to wander and allow myself to slowly become a part of the world a love, because what else can I do? It is too late to piece together the world I once knew, and too late the find my loved ones again. My heart beats, beats, beats, but it is empty and so what is it worth anymore anyway? I am now more afraid of those who care about finding me than the Keepers. Let them take me away and try to break me- they'll find that there is nothing left inside of me to shatter. They will find that I am too empty to hurt. They will realize that I have experienced all the pain in the world, and that nothing they could do could make things any worse.

My body stops while my mind continues to wander, and it takes me a moment to realize what has happened. I gently tilt my head to the side, because I know this feeling. It's the same thing I felt when she dangled only feet above me, and we were still strangers until the other spoke and then came the memories that I love hate, crushing me under their powerful weight. But no, it can't be her, and so it must be someone else, somewhere around me. I now possess my vision, so my situation is not so hopeless- I bend down as if to tie my book but instead reach inside and pull out the gleaming knife that I use to hunt, preparing for any sneak attacks.

There is the quiet grown of wood, and I look up just in time to see someone dangling above me before I hear the telltale crack and scramble out of the way. Every inch of me screams run, run, run but for some reason, something tells me to stay and wait and watch as she hits the ground with a sickening thud. Luna would have immediately run forward to help, and perhaps her ghost still remains, for I slip forward quietly to stand near her, ideas of leaving her here whispered in my mind but never considered because she could be hurt and that would not be okay.

"Are you hurt?" I whisper to the pale haired girl, for I can hardly manage any more. My voice is hoarse, for I have not spoken in days. There is a hollow kind of concern in it- a tone that is forced because nothing will come no matter how loudly I call. I know about falls and fear them greatly, though I cannot resist the temptation of heights. My first fall was prevented by Ari, who managed to save me just in time, but my second badly hurt me, and lead to a chain of events that have made me this empty, tired person that stands before the girl in front of me. "Have you broken anything?"

When the blazing sun is gone,
When (she) nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light.
Twinkle twinkle all the night.
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Sore muscles become tense when I see the blood, and my grip on the intricately carved knife becomes tighter as I search for enemies in the increasing shadows of the trees. Almost a year spent with Flight has taught me that where there is blood, there is danger, and my many months living out in the wild have only strengthened this idea- it is purely instinct, for I know that she has only herself to blame for these injuries. The words she speak are rough on her tongue, the syllables all twisted and forced out. Her words are loud, and they make my head pound. When she has at last finished, kneel down near her, my joints aching in protest. Dehydration and starvation have made both my body and my mind weak, but a heart still beats weakly in my chest, and I do not intend to leave this hurt girl (about a year younger than I am, I would say) alone to face the world in the state the she is in.

"I wish you would not speak so loudly," I say softly, sliding the knife back into my boot where the cold metal calms me ever so slightly. My knife is my guardian out here, feeding me and protecting me when no one and nothing else will. "It hurts my head." The words are almost as rough as hers, as I have not spoken in such a long time, and my tongue and throat are both quite dry. I give a small cough that hurts in my chest, and then swing my worn backpack forward so that it rests between us, leaves crackling under it's gentle weight. The birds stopped chirping long ago, and their silence fills the air heavily. One hand comes up automatically to feel the familiar dips and curves of my sun necklace, ignoring the way it burns to think about her and the life I left behind. I was a beautiful queen back then, and so was she. I reflected her brilliance like the moon reflects the bright rays of the sun, and though our friendship has long since died, I still feel those few golden strings tied to my heart, pulling pulling pulling enough to hurt but not enough to lead me back to her.

Another cough escapes me, and I am reminded of my new weakness. I am lacking of essential nutrients, which makes me no match for the new sickness that grasps me- a mixture of dehydration, which makes it ache to move, and some sort of cold that would have been harmless back at home but endangers me greatly out here. I do not doubt that I will see the dreaded day that is only a month away, but I am not quite sure that I will be back to my full health by then. Sleep that was once so hard to grasp now comes too easily, yet is full of moments when I am half awake, burning in the heat of the sun and the new heat that radiates from within, trying desperately to push out what I can no longer heal on my own. Still, I manage to push forward, and at this point in time that is all that matters. Moving farther and farther away from the place that has caused me so much pain, running from problems that she once would have helped me face is now priority.

I press chapped, throbbing lips together as I search through my bag for anything that might help. I am not clumsy and foolish (or at least, I did not believe myself to be when I left), and so I did not pack bandages or anything to help heal. Instead, I yank out one of my shirts and shove it toward her. Once, my movements were graceful and light, but they now jerk and are shaky, like a broken machine. "For your nose," I whisper, trying to ignore the way the words burn my throat. I bring my hand back to shove my glasses farther up on my nose, eying the foreign girl's ankle cautiously. A long time ago, doing something like this would have seemed so extremely odd to me, but I have seen and done so much in the past year that I feel as if I have a lifetime's worth of bad experienced shoved into my delicate mind.

I dig through my bag a bit more, but there is nothing there to help her ankle. Something about this situation seems familiar, but I can't quite place it. "Try to move your foot around," I say softly.

A few moments. That's all it takes for me to suddenly remember, with an audible gasp that is rough against the hurting tissue in my throat. It was Jasik who said those exact same words to me while I lay in the rebel base, Ari angrily leaning against one wall and watching as I struggled to realize the truth- that I had messed up, the consequences would hurt the rebels. I remember feeling the panic, and then relief as Jasik told me that it was nothing permanent. And then I suggested that I teach him to throw knives in order to pay him back, and then we went out into the woods, and that was where he fought her... when I met her...

Tears are blurring my view, and I'm glad she can't see them through my sunglasses. I blink a few times, forcing the memories and emotions down and pressing my lips together tightly. Any memories with either Jasik or Flight in them make my heart wail, because I long so badly to slip into the past. Again, I reach up to feel the necklace she gave me. A horrible, horrible thing that now feels heavy around my neck. The trees whisper as the wind picks up slightly, whipping raven locks to one side. The final rays of the sun are vanishing, and I take a deep breath of evening air, filling myself with life because although everything else has changed, I still become princess at night with a tiara of stars resting gently on my head. "You can call me Violet, by the way."

When darkness falls,
You can see the stars.
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I frown slightly at the confusion in her voice and movements- uncertainty and slightly fear flows through her even when just her eyes move, searching my face for answers that she will not find because I'm fairly certain that I myself do not even know the answers to her many questions. The word she speaks is fluid on her tongue, as if she has spoken it many times, but I have never heard it before. That I have a great variety of skills from many years of experience, I am not bilingual- and besides that, I have a feeling that what she speaks is not commonly found in Panem. Instinct tells me that this girl has never seen society before. She eyes my shirt as if I am handing her a two headed fish, and this leads me to believe that she has never even come across another person out here. A wild girl, born and raised in the woods.

I have, of course, heard stories about people like her. Around this time of year, District Nine would hold a large bonfire near the woods- even the Keepers would come, to 'keep an eye on us'. The celebration would last long into the night, with people roasting their catches and sharing with ours. A fews years ago, a man brought his fiddle, and there was music and dancing as sparks rose into the sky, finally fading to a whispering white color and floating up like ghosts to join the stars. People say that on this day, laughter can be heard from a mile away- I remember that one year when a boy asked me to dance, and my mother laughed and clapped as I spun around, my starry eyes matching the sky exactly because they weren't empty- they were full of joy and life, and not even our financial situation could bring me down on that night. When I was younger, the men would tell us stories of the Wanderers out in the woods (always when the Keepers weren't around, of course). They said that some narrowly escaped their districts, only getting out because they were lucky or extremely skilled. Others, they said, were born out in the wild- they wore animal skins and had wild, tangled hair, and were almost as good at hunting as we were.

During my travels, I have met a few of each kind- one man who had escaped when he was just about my age told me of the multiple times he was almost arrested, while another woman who had been a Wanderer all her life told me tales of her childhood as she grew up away from the people. These stories weren't really taken in, though, as the tales the men told those nights were. My heart was soft back then, and the warmth and excitement of the stories slid into it easily. Now, however, it is hard and cold, and their words bounced right off of it.

"Are you - hurt?"

Once again, syllables are chopped and nouns accented foreignly, but the words are clear enough for me to understand. Am I hurt? For the third time in the last two minutes, my hand rises to feel my golden necklace. Even the whispering wind seems to stop in that moment- everything is still as memories float back into my mind, and even though I promised myself that I will never cry for either of them ever again, I feel tears attempting to push through at the back of my eyes. I give another cough that makes my chest explode in pain, and then nod, slightly. My scars open to feel the cool night air, throbbing gently as they drink in nourishment that will not heal them. "Yes, I am hurt," I whisper. "Here," I point to my heart, "and here." I put a hand on my head.

I watch her face closely as she attempts to move her foot around, just to make sure that she does not try to hide her pain. She makes no such attempt- she voices her pain all too loud, and I am momentarily blinded when the pain in my head spikes. My hand slips into my boot as quick as lightning, whipping out the knife and holding it up in case she has attracted any enemies. No one comes, though, and I give a small sigh of relief, though the knife does not leave my hand again. I'm desperately hoping that it's no worse than a sprain. When she touches me, I jump, my heart racing. I'm about to whip myself away from her, but she beats me to it. Despite the fact that I am now extremely tense, I smile soothingly at her. "Don't worry. I won't leave you," I lie. Because, as soon as I'm sure that she'll be alright, I will once again disappear into the night.

She tries to pronounce my name, but it is obviously foreign to her. For a moment, I am itching to tell her to just call me Luna- it may be easier for her to pronounce. But no, out here, I am not Luna. I am not queen of the night, with the stars captured in my eyes and moonlight flowing in my veins instead of blood. No, out here, I am Violet- the girl who gave everything up for her freedom. Broken. Helpless. Hopeless. And without a friend in the world.

I'm so lost in thought that she catches me off guard- by the time I realize what she is about to do, it is too late. Her hand shoots forward and rips off my glasses that is so familiar, for a moment all I can think is Flight, Flight, Flight! Upon instinct, I immediately squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stay calm although my heart is racing. "They keep my secrets," I say quietly. "The dark glass is magic- it keeps people on the outside from seeing things they shouldn't." I reach my hand out in her direction, turning my head away from her. "I would like to have them back, please."

A heart that aches,
Is a heart that breaks.
But you cannot break
what is already shattered.
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I feel the cold plastic sunglasses being placed in my awaiting palm obediently, and my body relaxes slightly. I slip them back on, the smooth, shining arms catching strands of shimmering black as I slip them back on. Luna would have been mad, but I lost Luna and her emotions a long time ago. It's so hard to feel anger at anyone but myself nowadays- it seems any foul emotions are directed inward instead of outward, and they come alive in my dreams. Whatever I have caught is doing something to my sleep, for as I toss and turn on the cold, hard grounds, I have lucid dreams of lights that are flickering, whispering, dying, and a single voice that is all too familiar echoing around. "It's going to be okay, you know. It always is." Promises never kept, because it isn't okay, it will never be okay. There is a gaping hole in my chest where my heart should be, but they all stole it, one piece at a time, and now they've vanished, slipping through my fingers too easily. The hourglass whispered it's arcane song as time went on and on and on, but they did not appear and so I am left with nothing because I gave it all away far too quickly.

One to my father, who I know will never return. I go to his grave once a year and leave (Violets) near the stone. That part of my heart is filled with guilt that will never leave me- it always surfaces with the rest of my regrets somehow. One to Ari, who saved my life. He was kind but firm and somewhat cold, with a frozen heart not even I could thaw. He build his castle one brick at a time, and I would have done anything I could to help him rise again when it all collapsed. But I could do nothing but watch as the Keepers came, eyes filled with fire, and listen to the screams that echoed through the night. One to Jasik, who healed me after I fell from the roof. I often think of him on the nights that I awaken, my skin hot to the touch that I am shivering. On the nights after my fall, I slept on the couch, and Jasik would sometimes spend the night by my side, lighting a candle when I would awaken with pain clear in my teary eyes and speaking of many things that did not matter to either of us but somehow managed to force the pain away for a little while.

One piece to my mother, who's fate I do not know. She raised me, a single mother who was struggling to pay the bills and feeling the pain of a cruel boss. When I try to remember her (it has only been two years, yet her face is starting to fade), I see bruises and tangled hair and dark circles under ice blue eyes. She gave me everything, and in return I ran away, trying to convince myself it was for the best even when I knew that she would spend many nights awake, staring out the window in hopes that her little girl would come home. And one piece to Flight, who is just as helpless and hopeless as I am right now. Our friendship was cautious at first, for we had both experienced problems with this kind of thing in the past. But gradually, we grew to know each other and formed a bond that would tie us together even two years later, when her location is unknown to me and I am nothing but a memory to her. The golden sun around my neck has been thrown into ponds, buried, and tossed up into trees, but I always end up running back to retrieve it with tears streaming down my cheeks because although I try, I can't leave the last connection we had behind.

Yes, my glasses keep my secrets. They hide my newly gained weakness, and also keep in the memories that wish so badly to bleed out of me. Ever wish upon a star that never came true, every night spent prancing through the woods, every afternoon spent sitting on old wooden fences laughing with them in the lazy heat... everything that is and was Luna is locked behind these glasses. It seems that those who I come across always want to know, and I answer with a quiet iciness that conveys that the question is not to be asked again. There are few who would be willing to remember my starry eyes, and someone who can remember them and not have pain come rushing on along with the recollection... well, such a person is nonexistent.

The wind whispers my secrets into my ears, pulling my raven locks forward as I watch her silently, crouched down like a wild animal. Another cough escapes me, the fire making my eyes water, but I do not move for another moment or two. The sun has finally dipped below the horizon with a final wink, and the last traces of the sunset are quickly fading into darkness. I rise, greeting the cool breeze and looking up at the sky with a slight smile on my face. Joints pop as I arch my back, breathing deeply to drink in the wonderful night air- though midnight can no longer heal me, it can fill the spaces inside of me with starlight. At least, until morning it can.

At the mention of 'mother' and 'father', I halt, becoming as still as stone. Ice slowly crawls out of what remains of my chest, threatening to consume me. Slowly, mechanically, I straighten, and look down at her, shaking my head slightly. The wind is picking up, persistently tugging at me and cutting through my clothing to meet all too warm skin (the fever worsens at night), and I reach up to brush some inkblack strands of hair out of my face, fingers lingering near the spot where the scar is hidden under my locks. (screams, voices, music, laughter, snow, tears, pain, monster, fear, betrayal, whisper, howl, red, crack!) It was a horrible mistake. The kind only I can make. The regret and guilt washes over me, and I look down, away from her. I should leave now, just leave her here to struggle... she brings back to many memories and asks too many questions.

Yet something is stirred in me by the way she asks childish questions, which prevents me from leaving her behind. One hand automatically comes up to my chest, spreading out protectively over my heart. No. No more. I have no more to give. Yet, I can't help myself. "I had a friend, once, but she... I am alone now." There is a pain in my voice that she will never understand, and will never know. I envy her and her perfect world for a moment- she obviously has a family and friends. I lack these things that nourish a heart and repair it. She will always have someone to catch her when she falls, and I will always be doomed to hit the ground hard.

"It isn't safe for us to travel in the dark." It isn't safe for her to travel in the dark. Nighttime is my kingdom and always will be, but she is weak when she loses her light and so for now we must wait. "Perhaps I should start a fire? And then you can tell me about your tribe, and your mother and father." These are things I do not wish to hear, but I know that it would distract her from the pain, so I am willing to bear it until the sun rises again. And then, I will return her home and be gone before they can thank me.