Morana Blackmoore :: D2

:: I love the dead before they're cold,
Their blueing flesh for me to hold.
Cadaver eyes upon me see nothing.
I love the dead before they rise ::

Rain fell from the sky in vast grey sheets- the cloudy skin rolled on overhead- drenching the earth in a summer down poor; somewhere overhead a crash of thunder rumbled loudly. A small skeleton of a girl cowered in a doorway that had since long been used watching the people walk past her; they paid little attention to her desperate stare as they hurried on through the falling rain. Hunger pains shot through her, sharp and suddenly, causing her to clutch at her stomach and curl further into a ball as the agony burnt through her; she could not remember the last time she had eaten, the child’s vertebrae and ribs could be seen through her tattered and rain drenched clothes. Nothing more than a bag of bones, the little one knew her time was near, she knew death would come for her just as he had with her mother and baby sister; her body writhed with the pain of hunger.

Stumbling from the alcove of the doorway, barefooted against the hard concrete streets, the girl made her way through the curtain of rain that fell from the heavens. A gust of wind swept through the street wrapping the girl in its hands causing her to tremble in its grip. Her feet lead her into the road before she fell to her knees choking on the air that gave her life; she let out a stifled sob as the world became numb around her- she knew he was coming for her and that he was close. The girl closed her eyes tightly and prayed it would be quick and painless- she hoped it would be over soon- but she had seen her mother fade away, she had pain in her eyes as she was taken by death. The little girl did not want that.

From the rain and thunder, came the sound of wheels against the asphalt she was now lying on. She secretly hoped the car would run her over but it did not- it stopped before it reached her and its occupants climbed out and began to walk towards her. Using what strength she had left, she opened her eyes and stared up at those who were staring down at her. A long faced man with a beefy moustache and bowler hat frowned at her as if he had not seen a child before; his eyes were filled with caution and surprisingly worry. The other was a well off woman who appeared to be in her late 20’s- crow’s feet had formed in the corner of her large, sinister eyes; something about the woman’s smile especially frightened the girl. The woman looked to the man, who the girl assumed to be the driver.

“I think we should take her home” the womans said with a thin sounding voice. As the man nodded the woman turned back to the girl “What is your name dear?”

“Morana…” she whispered

***

“ARAGORN!!” Morana screamed storming into the living room “ARAGORN!!”

The boy did not turn to his sister who burst into the room- livid with anger- and stormed over to him as he listened to their current victim screaming beneath his feet. Morana stared at him, her eyes full of pointless tears, her hands grabbing at his shirt as she heard the screams too; she knew those screams. She had hoped Quartz had lied to her when they had said they were taking him to the cellar- she had hoped it so much- but she still ran home as fast as she could; even if she wasn’t that great at long distance running. Now she stood, almost on her knees, begging to Aragorn for it to stop.

Her brother did not do anything- he just stood there- he did not even move to stop her when she ran to the door of the cellar and threw the door open and hurried down the stairs. Her heart beat furiously inside her chest as she ran down the flight of- what seemed like- never ending stair case and into the darkened dungeon of torture. His screams continued to echo through her skull as she set off down the corridor towards the room at the end- the light of which was glowing hopefully- not stopping when two of her brothers grabbed at her with their hands; nothing was going to stop her.

As she burst into the room- the boys screams stopped and Morana's heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces like glass. Her mouth fell open in shock and horror- an empty scream escaped her mouth- tears streamed down her face as she stared at the dead boy on the table; he was mangled and mutilated but she knew the boy as her own. The only one she had loved- the only one she promised to offer her heart to- was dead on the table in front of her eyes. His brown eyes were no longer full of light- it was if someone had turned off the lamp inside his head that had made his eyes glow and sparkle with life. Mother turned from the table wiping her hands, smiling at the poor girl who had fallen to her knees screaming pointlessly; her screams where heart wrenching and depressed and painful.

“You are only young” her mother spoke softly over the girls screams “You should not have love at 14 anyway my child”

“WHY?!” Morana’s body heaved which each wretched sob “WHY WOULD YOU DO SUCH A THING!!”

“You are a Blackmoore Morana- we do not share our secrets and our hearts with those who are lesser than us”

With that, mother walked from the room, leaving the poor girl to mourn for the butchered boy on the table.

***

Morana had watched the man from across the room for some time- he had noticed her too- and she knew what she had to do. The man was watching her now; he was watching her sit on the bar stool with her dress that rode up her thigh a little too high, watching her as she pressed her crimson red lips against the rim of the glass as she sipped the honey whiskey and watching her as she fluttered her satin blue eyes sensually in his direction. The corners of his lips twitched as his eyes ran up and down her body; Morana smiled back sweetly, her eyes flickering with excitement of the chase, with the thought of his hands on her and her hands on him as they enjoyed a few enticing moments of romance together.

Taking one last swig of the whiskey, the sweet nectar slithered down her throat, she slid from the bar stool and began to make her way over to him. Morana was a natural at doing ‘the walk’- it was something that required skill and patience to learn but once you got it right, you had boys clawing at you to get just a piece of your body. Her hips swayed, slowly, side to side with each step she took with her long slender legs; her eyes fixed on the man who had his eyes fixed on her. He did seem surprised as she approached him- his thick eyebrows moving up his forehead- as if he hadn’t seen her coming; the thought of that made her laugh tenderly as she came to a stop beside the man.

“Can I help you?” the man asked

“Help? You, help me?” when the man nodded Morana laughed “Sweetie, it is not me who needs the help”

“What do you mean??”

“With your dancing” she replied with a flirty tone, taking his hand gracefully “I have been watching you all evening and I must say- it really is terrible”

The man chuckled lightly as she pulled him towards the dance floor, her feminine hand gripping his. The music was loud, stifling, with an intense base and was probably hip and fresh from the Capitol; it set Morana’s heart off the moment they touched down on the floor. She turned to him and began to sway her hips slowly, her hands floating in the air above her head, her eyes just closed so she could barely see the effect she was having on him.

He seemed a little bewildered, a little frightened, at her movements- but she could see he liked it. A sly grin crawled across her lips as she fluidly moved against his body to the beat of the music- her hips grinding against his- while his hands flailed about her as if he did not know where to put them.

Grinning wide, Morana leant up to his ear and whispered “How about we ditch this place hm? It seems a bit dull in here anyway”

***

Morana sat up, stretching, her black hair falling in a tangled mess across her face. She threw the satin sheets off her and slipped into her dressing gown- a yawn escaping from her chest- as she walked across the her vanity mirror. Sitting down in front of it, she looked at her naked skin that had once worn makeup. Her skin was punctured with pores and acne scars- something that had been a problem in her early teens- and grey circles beneath her almond shaped eyes. I look terrible, she thought to herself as she began to brush through her thick matted hair; her lack of confidence in her true appearance began to grow again as she continued to stare at her naked face in the mirror.

After pulling her hair back in a bun- which sat tightly against the nape of her neck- she began to make herself look at least human once again. First she applied pale foundation and concealer to hide the impurities that dappled her skin- like rain droplets on a leaf- which with a few strokes of the brush were hidden from the human eye. Next she brushed blush across her tall cheek bones- that sat right beneath her eyes and protruded greatly from beneath her skin- and along other contours of her face. Finally, she pulled out her favourite colour of lipstick- red- and put it on her plump fat lips; pouting as she painted them carefully.

She turned back to the bed and smiled to her partner “There now I look much better now, don’t I?”

The woman smiled as she crossed the room and knelt on the bed looking over him- briefly pressing her warm lips against his cold dead ones. The man had been dead for some time now, his skin was a lilac colour and his eyes were now glazed over with mist- which was a shame because they had been so bright when he had been alive- and there was the distinct sweet odour of peach pits. Morana smiled lazily, pecking the dead mans cheek before standing again; as she reached the door of the room she turned back to him, smiling still.

“Last night was fun, we should do it again sometime” she said blowing a kiss as she closed the door behind her

***

“These people have no taste in the way they kill” Morana said taking a sip of wine as she lazed on the sofa watching the games “I mean, that is no way to decapitate someone”

Her ‘siblings’ didn’t even flutter an eyelash at her comment- their eyes were focused on the blood bath that was occurring on the screen- to which Morana just rolled her eyes and took a last swig of wine before swinging her legs round so she was sat in an upright position. She thought about announcing she was going to get another glass of wine but she knew they wouldn’t give a shit; she was 17 years old and she had yet to feel like one of them. Standing she walked into the kitchen to the wine rack, as she did she took a glance around the kitchen which seemed empty now there was an absence of mother.

Moranastood where her mother would’ve every morning, looking out the window, as the others ate breakfast; if she closed her eyes hard enough she could feel the presence of the memory here in the room- the sound of her mothers mumblings, the drip of the tap, the arguments of children. Oddly, chaos like this was bliss to Morana but now her mother was gone and Aragorn was now in charge- with him being the eldest- so they often ate in silence unless spoken too. She didn’t dislike Aragorn but she didn’t particularly like him; it was something about his personality and undying love for mother that got on her nerves.

Pouring herself another glass of wine, her 3rd glass that day, she took a large sip before returning to the family room where the games was still playing on the screen. It was something she always looked forward to- the games- every year; the sound of children screaming and crying for their mothers as their fellow tributes beat them down with swords and blunt objects of choice. Sadistic, is what some people called her when she said she enjoyed their screams- it was not something she told most people but then again those who she did tell were never round long enough to spread it. She smiled to herself as she took her place on the couch again and watched another soul die.

:: No farewells, no goodbyes.
I never even knew your now-rotting face.
While friends and lovers mourn your silly grave.
I have other uses for you, Darling ::