Catch Her Eye -Open-
Feb 18, 2010 11:37:02 GMT -5
Post by Ryciera on Feb 18, 2010 11:37:02 GMT -5
She only had one jacket. A sweater was underneath it, but it hardly did much to keep her warm. Her pleather jacket, one she'd saved up for for a long time, wasn't doing what it should do. While things were a bit better than before, Jennifer could still feel the cold nipping at her fingers and ears. Spring wasn't far, but it still was just out of reach. Painfully distant to some. Jennifer missed the warm weather. Of course, with all the pollution, District 3 was still a bit warmer than the rest, but gray snow still fell from above and stuck to the mucky streets.
Head tucked in to her jacket as deep as she could get it, Jennifer hurried down the cobblestone, not bothering to glance up at the televisions. The Hunger Games only pissed her off. For seven years, Jennifer had to live in fear of being picked. At around the hunger games, her mother would always wake up early and serve the best breakfast she could muster: usually some nicer jam exported straight from District Eleven, which she generally saved throughout the entire year for this event. Afterward, she would dress her daughter up in a nice dress that would blend in. The reason for this was that, if she were to be called on the stage, she didn't want the other contestants noticing her too much. The less she was noticed, the less they would care about killing her. Of course, luckily for Jennifer, she was never chosen. Once the Hunger Games passed, when she was eighteen, the entire family let out a sigh of relief.
A small girl pushed past her, which made Jennifer glance up in annoyance. Instead of seeing a TV screen, she stopped in front of a shop window. The glass was nearly reflective, showing a cold woman with a little too much makeup on, but on the other side was a dress. Designer, shipped straight from the capitol. It was red, with bright roses across the shoulders, their stems weaving down like vines to give it almost a look of antiquity. She wanted that dress. Eyes stared at it in longing, despite the fact that she knew she'd have to save another few month's salary to get it. Anyway... where'd she wear it? Everywhere. It'd get mucky if she wore it everywhere. But it'd still be beautiful. She'd have to buy matching shoes... maybe some tights... she'd be so respected! God... she wanted that dress.
Head tucked in to her jacket as deep as she could get it, Jennifer hurried down the cobblestone, not bothering to glance up at the televisions. The Hunger Games only pissed her off. For seven years, Jennifer had to live in fear of being picked. At around the hunger games, her mother would always wake up early and serve the best breakfast she could muster: usually some nicer jam exported straight from District Eleven, which she generally saved throughout the entire year for this event. Afterward, she would dress her daughter up in a nice dress that would blend in. The reason for this was that, if she were to be called on the stage, she didn't want the other contestants noticing her too much. The less she was noticed, the less they would care about killing her. Of course, luckily for Jennifer, she was never chosen. Once the Hunger Games passed, when she was eighteen, the entire family let out a sigh of relief.
A small girl pushed past her, which made Jennifer glance up in annoyance. Instead of seeing a TV screen, she stopped in front of a shop window. The glass was nearly reflective, showing a cold woman with a little too much makeup on, but on the other side was a dress. Designer, shipped straight from the capitol. It was red, with bright roses across the shoulders, their stems weaving down like vines to give it almost a look of antiquity. She wanted that dress. Eyes stared at it in longing, despite the fact that she knew she'd have to save another few month's salary to get it. Anyway... where'd she wear it? Everywhere. It'd get mucky if she wore it everywhere. But it'd still be beautiful. She'd have to buy matching shoes... maybe some tights... she'd be so respected! God... she wanted that dress.
