the mouse and the willow wind girl {kiah}
Jul 7, 2013 2:25:31 GMT -5
Post by Meghan on Jul 7, 2013 2:25:31 GMT -5
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"I'm going out." You whisper to nobody in particular even as you have already slipped through the front door. Disinterest radiates from your old mother as she wills you to do as you please. The slight hint of joyous rebellion did not escape her notice, but why shouldn't you celebrate? Today was yet another day and another year of forgotten freedom. The old Capitolites had passed by your name again and you found yourself in the safe arms of District Five. Fresh air will do you good with this sweet dish of bittersweet relief.
Sure, the blood-stains of the soon-to-be corpses that had departed on that too-fast train would haunt your memories in the next few months, but that did not mean you should not celebrate your selfish little life. As long as you were comfortable in the present moment then why should you care for their fate?
God, you are so selfish, color-girl. You have draped yourself in rainbows and fear, of all things. I can see right through you. The gold-red sun that is slowly falling in this doomed-world's sky is only helping me see your black heart. There is justification somewhere in your smooth skin, but it has fallen short of all the things that define good. I think you secretly are loathing yourself right now. And why not? You are trying to enjoy the day without the black smear of panem's mourning and twisted hope.
I can still feel the rush of your blood and the frantic drum of your heartbeat as you waited for your fate on reaping day. There was little thought of anyone but yourself, even as the faces of the lost were revealed to the crowd. You chose to cross the broken stones to stand next to your mom during their final introduction, your hands intertwining in some-sort of fake pity. "At least we still have each other," you had told her with a barely-concealed smile. Just one more year and you would be safe, just one more year and you could finally live. Like the self-obsessed girl you are.
It is funny how fate works. It is not a result of action and consequence, but rather it seems to twist around itself. It always throws the unexpected into your path, as if it considered what would mess with your head the most and decided to throw exactly that directly in your pretty face. At least, that is what it appeared to do today, especially as you laid eyes on the broken girl.
You could not tell what was wrong with her, nor did your selfish-nature particularly care (though I'm sure you would protest that statement if you could hear me say it), but you knew it would be the noble thing to do if you at least asked her what was wrong. So you did, although you would probably admit to being extra cautious, even while you placed a hand on her back and attempting to look into her eye.
"Hey, how are things going?" You ask the stranger quietly. Was this comforting? Uncertainty dragged itself through your bones and you removed your hand as quickly as you had placed it. "...sorry." You mumble under your breath, but I doubt she noticed. Maybe if you just looked at her she may something in response to your question.
So you stare at her expectantly and bite your lips in your nervousness. What usually went through people's heads the day, well night now, after the reaping? Were they usually sad or mournful, or was everyone like you? Happy to be allowed to live? Death had not come knocking at your door, and it did not seem to be on theirs either. Why should the world dwell on the fate of the forgotten ones? They just met their end early. It happened every year, did it not? That is what you always told yourself at the very least. Oh, what a twisted comfort you reveled in! For many tears had fallen for those you so easily dismissed. Just because their fate was already determined did not make it anymore right!
But how could I expect you to understand that, you who are stuck inside your own head? There is too much of yourself to care. There always has been. I cannot expect you to change overnight. But perhaps fate had a different plan. Perhaps you found yourself in the presence of this girl to break yourself. Or maybe, just maybe, you could be too far gone to be saved by something as simple as sacrifice... I guess it is simply best to let fate decide.
Sure, the blood-stains of the soon-to-be corpses that had departed on that too-fast train would haunt your memories in the next few months, but that did not mean you should not celebrate your selfish little life. As long as you were comfortable in the present moment then why should you care for their fate?
God, you are so selfish, color-girl. You have draped yourself in rainbows and fear, of all things. I can see right through you. The gold-red sun that is slowly falling in this doomed-world's sky is only helping me see your black heart. There is justification somewhere in your smooth skin, but it has fallen short of all the things that define good. I think you secretly are loathing yourself right now. And why not? You are trying to enjoy the day without the black smear of panem's mourning and twisted hope.
I can still feel the rush of your blood and the frantic drum of your heartbeat as you waited for your fate on reaping day. There was little thought of anyone but yourself, even as the faces of the lost were revealed to the crowd. You chose to cross the broken stones to stand next to your mom during their final introduction, your hands intertwining in some-sort of fake pity. "At least we still have each other," you had told her with a barely-concealed smile. Just one more year and you would be safe, just one more year and you could finally live. Like the self-obsessed girl you are.
It is funny how fate works. It is not a result of action and consequence, but rather it seems to twist around itself. It always throws the unexpected into your path, as if it considered what would mess with your head the most and decided to throw exactly that directly in your pretty face. At least, that is what it appeared to do today, especially as you laid eyes on the broken girl.
You could not tell what was wrong with her, nor did your selfish-nature particularly care (though I'm sure you would protest that statement if you could hear me say it), but you knew it would be the noble thing to do if you at least asked her what was wrong. So you did, although you would probably admit to being extra cautious, even while you placed a hand on her back and attempting to look into her eye.
"Hey, how are things going?" You ask the stranger quietly. Was this comforting? Uncertainty dragged itself through your bones and you removed your hand as quickly as you had placed it. "...sorry." You mumble under your breath, but I doubt she noticed. Maybe if you just looked at her she may something in response to your question.
So you stare at her expectantly and bite your lips in your nervousness. What usually went through people's heads the day, well night now, after the reaping? Were they usually sad or mournful, or was everyone like you? Happy to be allowed to live? Death had not come knocking at your door, and it did not seem to be on theirs either. Why should the world dwell on the fate of the forgotten ones? They just met their end early. It happened every year, did it not? That is what you always told yourself at the very least. Oh, what a twisted comfort you reveled in! For many tears had fallen for those you so easily dismissed. Just because their fate was already determined did not make it anymore right!
But how could I expect you to understand that, you who are stuck inside your own head? There is too much of yourself to care. There always has been. I cannot expect you to change overnight. But perhaps fate had a different plan. Perhaps you found yourself in the presence of this girl to break yourself. Or maybe, just maybe, you could be too far gone to be saved by something as simple as sacrifice... I guess it is simply best to let fate decide.
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Word Count: 764
