all that is {gold} is rusting :: Nightbird/Rook ::

last night i fell in love without you
i waved goodbye to that heart of mine beating solo on your lawn
and every aching wound will cauterize and bruise
in memory of what we used to call in love

There would be a time where I didn't care for consequences. A time where I was naive and innocent, not shaped by the incident that changed my life. Now I am stubborn and rough. I've been sculpted by events and changed as a person. I'm handicapped by my near-blindness, but refuse any assistance. There's nothing I can't do, and I don't need people telling me I'm weak and helpless.

So, why I find myself in the booth of an old pre-war entertainment machine, trying to figure out what wire does what is beyond me. Maybe I've gone crazy? It wouldn't be the first time. It certainly wouldn't be the last either. Am I the only one who just gets urges to do things? Is there no adventure left in the world? Just because curiosity cost me a significant percentage of my independence and quality of life, doesn't mean I should be feeble and crippled. I grow stronger from experiences, and I'm proud to be sniffing around abandoned crap.

I try to dig through the wires, see what's behind the spaghetti mess and try to figure a way to unplug it all. Maybe I'll piss off who ever is powering this thing, then I can confront them
Then what, genius?
Then I'll make some loud-mouth remark and head home having done something with my day. Simple as that. I run out of space in my hands to hold the wire, so I use my teeth to hold a few strands as I part the rest. That's when I hear it.

Footsteps.

Y'see, having a seriously depleted vision does wonders for your hearing. I rely heavily on my other senses, and hearing is probably the most important - I'd fear what I'd do if I went deaf. No chance of that though, unless I get old. I hear footsteps, heavy and uncaring. They are footsteps that are not expecting anyone to be here. I conclude that whoever it is, is the person powering this machine. I want to find out who they are and what the purpose of this powering is.

My head pops out from under the counter, wire still between my teeth. I look like a meerkat that has just come out of it's den. Albeit a meerkat with wire held in it's mouth. I blind rapidly, spitting out the wire and staring at the figure. Young I deduce by height. My vision is, as usual, poor. I can't see the gender of the small figure, but too young to be able to power this thing. I make out features in the light, I continue my brief analysis, staring blandly at the person through my sunglasses.

"Hey!" I yell angrily, "You're not supposed to be here!" I try to intimidate the person, call my bluff, if you will.

last night i fell in love without you
the coup-de-grace that set me off would've made for decent fiction
and every aching wound will cauterize and bruise
in memory of what we used to call in love

---

narrative
thoughts
personal speech
speech of others

theme~ "Fell in love without you" by Motion City Soundtrack.
notes~ --

last night i fell in love without you
i waved goodbye to that heart of mine beating solo on your lawn
and every aching wound will cauterize and bruise
in memory of what we used to call in love

The smudge in my vision shifts, a shadow that dances and teases me. It's grey form alters, becoming larger. I narrow my eyes, realizing that the person is getting closer. Obviously my threat didn't work, and now I'm the one in danger. Yet as the mystery man comes closer, I let out a short laugh in realizing that it's not a man at all, but a child. A boy, to be precise.

The kid seems familiar, but I can't place a name or a place on him. Maybe he's a daydream. Flashes of triplets are laid out before me. The memories are as distorted as my vision. It's unusual, I usually remember things a lot clearer in my head. It's like I can imagine events that happened in more detail, like life in high definition. Memories aren't spoiled by the blur of my only eye. My hand strays to my face where my index finger slips under my sunglasses and strokes where my left eye used to be. Just a fleshy mess now, raw to the touch.

The kid speaks suddenly, stabbing at the humid air with cold, hesitant fear. The voice of someone prepubescent.
"Please don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me"

last night i fell in love without you
i waved goodbye to that heart of mine beating solo on your lawn
and every aching wound will cauterize and bruise
in memory of what we used to call in love

It's not wise to play with electricity. It's even more spoken against to do so if you have poor vision and suffer from colorblindness. But, as usual, I care not for rules. I care not for consequence. I sit cross legged on the tattered leather seat that remains static within the booth. I fiddle with the wires, trying to separate them to the best of my vision. One set of wire is slightly more grey than the other. It's all I have to go on. I grin at the hopelessness of the situation, totally farcical.

I glance up at the boy, his silhouette has shrunk - He has retreated slightly. In fear? Most likely. Years of being blind and stubborn have molded me into a scary teenager that any twelve year old would avoid. I want to know if there is a link with him and the Strekkers. The way the light dances on his chubby cheeks is familiar to me. He was there that day, yes. Nothing out of the ordinary happened on that day, it was just another day. Yet it stands out to me, probably because I met triplets... And this kid, he was there too. Yes. He was definitely there.

"What do you know about Amity?" He blurts out. Yeah. Definitely. I smile as he takes the confident step forwards. Love. Does our little friend have a crush for Amity Strekker? He's definitely sticking up for her for no reason at all. All I did was mention the surname of the triplets and he jumps to the conclusion that I'm talking about Amity. It must be love. Could someone so young be in love? Maybe a childish crush. I remember the Strekker triplets vividly, but all the same they were nothing special. Sure, one of them helped me out in finding my lost parchment, but they weren't memorable.

So why did I remember them?

Good question. My head says it's because I saw this kind and my brain made the link. Yet there's something else. Something that made that day memorable midst the ordinary. But nothing happened! Why is it such a landmark day, for no reason? I get frustrated and look back down at the wiring, tugging at a few loose wires so they rip clean out. I look to the machine, but it doesn't seem phased by my interference. The lights still blink.

I hear a thump and look up quickly. He's gone. The silhouette of the young boy is gone. He can't of just vanished like that. Did someone take him? No... What was that noise? I narrow my eyes and see the heap on the floor. It confirms it: He's fallen over. Or, he's passed out. I stare, blinking rapidly. I pause for a long time, just staring, before glaring upwards and cursing loudly.
These things always happen to me

I grunt and drop the wires, exiting the rusty booth. I take cautious steps to the crumpled mess that lies motionless on the floor. For a brief moment, I wonder if the boy is dead. No. I faintly see the rise and fall of his chest. I can hear him breathing. The area is that quiet. Another step, before I pause. I stop a good five meters away from him, leaning forwards but not allowing my legs to go any further.

"Hey kid!" I call, leaning further forwards, "You okay?"
What a stupid question. Of course he's not okay, he's just collapsed. Judging my his hoarse voice and sudden fainting, I'd conclude that dehydration is the enemy here. I screw up my face, not knowing what to do. I let out another annoyed sigh and walk over to his body, kneeling next to him. Now. What would a doctor do? Check he was breathing - I already knew he was. Try and wake him up?

I gentle place my hands on his chest, lightly grabbing the fabric of his shirt before.
"WAKE UP!!" I shake his body violently.
Usually works.

last night i fell in love without you
the coup-de-grace that set me off would've made for decent fiction
and every aching wound will cauterize and bruise
in memory of what we used to call in love

---

narrative
thoughts
personal speech
speech of others

theme~ "Fell in love without you" by Motion City Soundtrack.
notes~ Sorry if Lilith's a little rusty, no pun intended.

last night i fell in love without you
i waved goodbye to that heart of mine beating solo on your lawn
and every aching wound will cauterize and bruise
in memory of what we used to call in love

The shaking doesn't wake him up. He seems half conscious, like he's slipping between one reality and another. I start to panic as he murmurs during his glitches between the two worlds. Slurred sentences, like he's talking to a ghost, inaudible syllables that don't connect into words. What's wrong with him? Dehydration seems obvious, but what if it's something more? Epilepsy at seeing the flashing lights? Surely he'd be having a fit? Maybe it's the start. I know jack-all about the human body, so all I can do is assume it's dehydration - I only know about epilepsy because my older brother is epileptic. I doubt it is, but something's tugging at me that it could be something more.

"Shaking... Not... Helping..." He gathers, his body so frail and weak. So young that I see myself in pain, at a young age. Losing my left eye, crumpled on the floor. This boy could be dying, and I'm shaking him like he's a cocktail. I stop shaking, leaving his body to lie in the dirt. What do I do now? I should probably try and ask him what the problem is. If he has something wrong with him, he should tell me when I ask.
"Listen, keep talking to me... What's your name? Do you have a condition? What do I need to do?" I ask him the trio of questions to try and keep him responsive. If he slips into that realm of unconsciousness, then I fear I'll lose him to whatever it is that has it's dark tendrils wrapped around his mind.

At the moment, I have to assume it's dehydration that's slapped him around the brain. I grit my teeth and stand up doing a full circle. I need to look for water - a faucet or something. It'd be twenty times easier if I wasn't three-quarters blind.

What's going through his mind? Is he panicking like I am? Has he experienced this before? It could be starvation, his lips don't look too dry. It's not rare in District Eleven, we're one of the worst for poverty. It's like there's a chain of living conditions that gradually gets worse the higher the number: From the luxury of District One, to the mediocre life of District Six to the hell of poverty stricken District Twelve. We're ranked in terms of quality of life.

I don't have food and I'm too blind to see any water. I can't just leave him here, and I'm still drawn to that damn machine. I swear under my breath again, pacing. I return to the side of the fainting body, kneeling and placing my hands on his chest. I keep my voice quiet, but stern.
"It's vitally important that you tell me if anything's wrong with you...!"

Because I've seen people starve, but very rarely have I seen twelve year old's on their own, fainting...

last night i fell in love without you
the coup-de-grace that set me off would've made for decent fiction
and every aching wound will cauterize and bruise
in memory of what we used to call in love

---

narrative
thoughts
personal speech
speech of others

theme~ "Fell in love without you" by Motion City Soundtrack.
notes~ --

last night i fell in love without you
i waved goodbye to that heart of mine beating solo on your lawn
and every aching wound will cauterize and bruise
in memory of what we used to call in love

He thanks me when I stop shaking him. On hindsight, it wasn't the best idea. I draw closer to him as his voice is frail, a whisper in the wind.
"M-my name is O-O-Othal Nigh-Nightbird. I-I have no condition a-and I need water. Or food, o-or both."
Don't we all?
I shouldn't complain. I have it good, we sell wool and it's sought after, so our profits are more than enough to keep two kids going in a family of four. I'm surprised at the clarity of his answers. Impressed even. I know his name, and it does ring a bell: Othal. The boy from that day with the Strekkers. I'm gripping at thin wire, not entirely convinced that it was him. At least he has no condition, he's just dehydrated as I previously thought.

But where to get water? For one, I'm mostly blind, I'd need to draw onto places I know to get water. The marketplace and Home are my only options, but I can't leave him here. If I were to abandon his body next to this forgotten relic in search of a lifeline, and he died, I wouldn't forgive myself... Well, not right away, at least.

And so I'm in a dilemma. Stay and not be able to help, or leave for assistance? I weigh the options and decide that the only way to keep him alive is to get water. If this is a life or death scenario, standing around and doing nothing will result in tragedy, and I'm not about to stain my conscience with another messy mistake.

"Stay here!" I say, frantically standing up and darting off.
Well, obviously Lilith...
It's not like he can go anywhere - At least, I hope not. I don't want to come back to find no body. I start walking at brisk pace back towards the entrance of this cornered off section of street, quickening the pace unt-
SMACK
"RIPRED!!" I yell as I walk slap-bang into a solid brick wall. My forehead screams and throbs as my body is rattled from the impact. I fall onto my rear and swear viciously again, not caring for the boy's innocence, he's probably unconscious.

I blame my near blindness, and the fact that I was so worried that I wouldn't find water. So occupied with Othal that I couldn't focus. The wall attacked me, it was so uncalled for that I'm angry at it. Disorientated and annoyed, I push myself to my feet once more. I press onwards, feeling the wall with my bare palms. Sliding along the rough surface until I find a corner to edge around and find my way back into the streets.

Now. Where is the water?

last night i fell in love without you
the coup-de-grace that set me off would've made for decent fiction
and every aching wound will cauterize and bruise
in memory of what we used to call in love

---

narrative
thoughts
personal speech
speech of others

theme~ "Fell in love without you" by Motion City Soundtrack.
notes~ --

last night i fell in love without you
i waved goodbye to that heart of mine beating solo on your lawn
and every aching wound will cauterize and bruise
in memory of what we used to call in love

Into the streets I wander, growing increasingly concerned for the welfare of the young boy. I know him, he nags at my mind with the memories that he haunts. The Strekkers, why are they so important? They stand out like a fixed point in my timeline, the three of them waving their hands to be noticed. It was just a regular day, I remind myself, it was nothing special. But this boy was there, he was their friend? Now he's alone and starving, so something must be wrong. I need to get him water.

As I push through the expanse of people who school through the reef of buildings, I feel a wave of worry drown me - What if I can't find my way back? I'm three-quarters blind and my bearings aren't as good as they would be were I not being pushed around by the bully of a crowd. It picks on me, dragging me away to where I don't want to go. This was stupid - I'm never going to find water, let alone get back to Othal. I should have taken him with me, for an unconscious body would have drawn attention, right? Maybe not... People see enough famine in the lower districts. Why help a stranger when you have to feed yourself? I am disgusted at the state of our District. So abandoned and deserted by the Capitol. Why should we starve when they live so large?

Vague shapes tower over me and I recognize the clock tower chiming its happy tune down at the depressed masses. My bearings are back to what they should be and I push through the crowd in the direction of the market. I have no money, but maybe, just maybe I'll be able to persuade someone. If not, there's always stealing - The blind charity act only gets you so far when you try it on the same people.

I spot faint strips of color that I know to be the marquees of the market. I barge through and find myself in an opening, out of the jet-stream of meat-sack dead men. I search the stands of fruits and vegetables, looking for something juicy. If I can get some kind of hydrating and nutritional food, I think that Othal will be alright. The problem is getting it. I have no coin, and fruit vendors aren't too charitable given the luxury of their goods. A watermelon catches my good eye with it's vibrant colors that stab out from the usual damp grey. Oranges and apples are also an option, each showcasing a different attractive color.

The vendor looks at me likes he knows what I'm thinking, like he knows what I'm doing. I don't look like someone with money, and the way I eye the fruits tells him everything he needs to know. He licks his dry lips and grins, showing me his worm-dirt teeth.
"Don't even think about it, kiddo..." He says, his voice is thick like a bleach or broth, I locate him more easily by hearing his voice, able to pinpoint where he's standing. Sound is important to me, because it's the half-vision that I'm missing. In a way it fills that hole.

And so I'm stuck in a dilemma. I need fruit, but I can't just take it. This guy's staring straight at me and suspects what I plan to do. He doesn't look the forgiving type either. I wish this were easier, it would be if I could spare the coin, but I don't have any on me, and if I did, I'd need it for myself.

Hang in there Othal...

last night i fell in love without you
the coup-de-grace that set me off would've made for decent fiction
and every aching wound will cauterize and bruise
in memory of what we used to call in love

---

narrative
thoughts
personal speech
speech of others

theme~ "Fell in love without you" by Motion City Soundtrack.
notes~ Sorry for the delay. Posts should pick up again now~! ^^