DONE || Drake Sarovich || D5

{Another clever word}
{Sets off an unsuspecting herd}
{And as you step back in the line}
{A mob jumps to their feet}

{Looks}
{Personality}
{History}


Chocolate colored eyes stared himself down in the cracked mirror, slender fingers running through messy dark brown hair. Drake hated the way he looked- too skinny, could count all of his ribs without much effort, and even play them like a xylophone. He felt as though he was a walking skeleton, starved of vital nutrients. But, alas, he was the oldest of a family of three- Himself, his younger sister, Jenna, and his youngest brother, Flint. Each only had two years separating them.

He flexed once in the mirror, stringy muscles contracting over what little form he held, the male grumbling at himself out of spite. Grimy hands reached for his dark blue overcoat a hand-me-down from his father which he gratefully tugged over his skinny shoulders. "I'll be back later!" he screamed to the waiting little ones inside, his head cast to the dusty ground.

He recalled a time before, when the district was well known for providing cattle, sheep, maybe even llamas. But now... Now, the only critters raised around here were dogs, and not the friendly kind, either. Drake felt a pang of jealousy as he passed the Blackcoat ranch, his head hung low as he walked, trembling, unsteady hands shoved deep in the pockets of his coat. Why should the Blackcoats get to keep everything they owned? Why should they deserve to keep their things when almost every other family in the district was forced to work in the power plant?

Himself included...

He brushed his bangs from his brown eyes, and continued to wander across the plains land to where the massive, stone building rose like a monument to man's insolence. Biting his lip, he approached the large building and huffed as he punched in his time-code, ambling through the halls to his station.

Somewhere, between these walls, his father wandered, perhaps shouting out orders or preventing another powerless employee from hurting themselves. Drake's job was not so glorious- his job here was to watch the pressure on the valves, making sure they never fluctuated past 50PSI. It seemed remarkably easy to the male, who'd dropped out of school this year to provide extra money for his family to eat, particularly the two little ones he vowed to care for when his mother died from the sickness which spread around the district.

He recalled her strange symptoms- coughing, coughing, coughing blood, moaning in her sleep, the fever... Oh, her fever... The Healers told him without proper medication, she would die. And die she did- quite violently, all when Drake was merely eight. He doubted Flint remembered anything about the woman who so haunted his dreams, who seemed disappointed in Drake for helping his father at the plant instead of going to school, but what was he to do? The family needed the extra income, even if it were as low as he was currently being paid.

A loud whistle penetrated his thoughts, and the boy leaped from his perch, bones stiff from sitting still for nearly ten hours, adjusting his coat and stretching his legs. He passed others who looked like him, other sullen men providing for their families with a dead spark in their eyes.

Drake wanted out, and he wanted out now.

There was a way to fortune and fame, not just for him- but for Flint, Jenna, and his father. He could win the games for them, for every one of them. The young boy's jaw hardened as he once again, passed the Blackcoat ranch, his fists clenched while his teeth ground into each other. The sun had finally begun to set outside, and he hurried his way home all the while keeping an eye out for marauders. He was in ranch territory, and a few desperate souls would want to steal some cattle.

"I'm home!" he called out, rubbing some of the dirt free of his cheeks as two smaller bodies collided with him, his arms stretching out to hug them tight. "Drake!" they called happily, as he stepped further inside the small shanty, grinning happily at his siblings.

They knew their father would be home in a few hours, so they didn't pester the eldest male, instead, sitting him at the table while they poured a tasty smelling broth into his bowl. "Did you butcher a chicken today, Jen?" he questioned, while the little girl's hands steadily poured the golden liquid from a rusty pot, nodding.

"yes." she said. "One of them wasn't laying eggs, so I had to butcher her." A good enough reason, Drake thought, as he listened to the pair go on and on and on about their day at school. He didn't mind it though, he preferred their company over being alone.

{Now dance, fucker, dance}
{He never had a chance}
{And no one even knew}
{It was really only you}