...and Circuses (Open)
Sept 12, 2010 10:15:21 GMT -5
Post by Irmó on Sept 12, 2010 10:15:21 GMT -5
Frost.
There was frost on the window.
The rain had been petering out for a while, but somehow a small bluster of it had managed to catch the restaurant. Rain spattered against the windowpane, leaving trails of dots sparkling down their sides as they slid to the ground. If you closed one eye, you'd see a few things: a few cars, zipping along the wet ground without a care in the world; a few people with umbrellas or the like walking along the road. And in the air hung a myriad of twisting, sparkling stars. Only if you closed one eye. If you opened them both the stars would zoom back to the windowpane, too scared to approach the world. The rest of the world, suddenly bereft of the beautiful gems, would simply continue to function as it always had, but much drearier.
Frost leaned back, abruptly irritated by the window for reasons he couldn't explain. He shifted his weight in the red-leather chair, fingers tapping unconsciously on the hard wooden surface. You order the simplest things, he pondered, and then they spend a year on the frosting and garnishes. He hadn't even asked for any, but they would probably give them anyways and then charge extra. That was just how Capitol was. Sometimes it made sense to him, as if it were the only city in the whole world. Sometimes it horrified him, made him want to scream. So much pain, so much suffering. Everywhere. Even in the Capitol.
But somehow, cake with frosting was supposed to make it all right.
Continet atque duas tantum res anxius optat. Well, he wasn't going to be taken in by it. There was no reason for him to sit idly by and watch as the rest of his city collapsed. He was going to do something. He didn't know what, but he was. And, as far as he hated to admit it, he couldn't do it alone. He picked up his walking cane, a slim, crystal rod with a few bands of metal around it, and walked over to a larger, multi-group table. Then he sat down, and waited for food and entertainment.
There was frost on the window.
The rain had been petering out for a while, but somehow a small bluster of it had managed to catch the restaurant. Rain spattered against the windowpane, leaving trails of dots sparkling down their sides as they slid to the ground. If you closed one eye, you'd see a few things: a few cars, zipping along the wet ground without a care in the world; a few people with umbrellas or the like walking along the road. And in the air hung a myriad of twisting, sparkling stars. Only if you closed one eye. If you opened them both the stars would zoom back to the windowpane, too scared to approach the world. The rest of the world, suddenly bereft of the beautiful gems, would simply continue to function as it always had, but much drearier.
Frost leaned back, abruptly irritated by the window for reasons he couldn't explain. He shifted his weight in the red-leather chair, fingers tapping unconsciously on the hard wooden surface. You order the simplest things, he pondered, and then they spend a year on the frosting and garnishes. He hadn't even asked for any, but they would probably give them anyways and then charge extra. That was just how Capitol was. Sometimes it made sense to him, as if it were the only city in the whole world. Sometimes it horrified him, made him want to scream. So much pain, so much suffering. Everywhere. Even in the Capitol.
But somehow, cake with frosting was supposed to make it all right.
Continet atque duas tantum res anxius optat. Well, he wasn't going to be taken in by it. There was no reason for him to sit idly by and watch as the rest of his city collapsed. He was going to do something. He didn't know what, but he was. And, as far as he hated to admit it, he couldn't do it alone. He picked up his walking cane, a slim, crystal rod with a few bands of metal around it, and walked over to a larger, multi-group table. Then he sat down, and waited for food and entertainment.
