Pamela Edge :||: Capitol :||: FIN

                                               Sleeping at last, the trouble and tumult over,
                                              Sleeping at last, the struggle and horror past,
                                          Cold and white, out of sight of friend and of lover,
                                                                 Sleeping at last.

                                               No more a tired heart downcast or overcast,
                                       No more pangs that wring or shifting fears that hover,
                                           Sleeping at last in a dreamless sleep locked fast.

                                                                    Fast asleep.
                                                       Singing birds in their leafy cover
                                             Cannot wake her, nor shake her the gusty blast.

                                                Under the purple thyme and the purple clover
                                                                   Sleeping at last.

                                                             ~ Christina Rossetti

    She was a walking corpse, her skin an ivory pastel, her eyes piercingly green. She stood at the height of five feet, nine inches. Towering over most people of her gender. Her hair a snow white blonde, styled up over her head. She was detached from this world, no longer partaking in the normal events of a Capitol resident. She had welted into a feeling less being, or at least that's what they thought. Day after day she was treated as ignorant, incapable of acting as a piece to her own society. Her sight has diminished. She was born nearly blind, and age has taken every once of sight she had held on to. Her eyes were useless, nothing more then a filler for her socket. She was treated as lesser, pulled around at the command of another. She didn't fight this fate, she embraced it. She chose to speak on rare occasions, because the sound of her voice was like cream swirling though a cup of brewed coffee. It twirled through the listeners ears, and melted into the concoctions with ease. She was a manipulator. Born to strive for her needs. Her body was tall and lanky. Every bone protruding through the surface of her skin. It was so fragile, blemish free, but vulnerable. Like the smooth notch on a newborn babies head, it needed handling with care.

    Her skin burned with such ease, she avoided the sun all together. Her eyes seemed to stay blank. They couldn't find a target to look at anyway, so she normally stared blankly in any given direction. Her hair was styled by her avoxes, they cared for her with kindness. Considering she had taken them from more disaster filled homes, and made them her own. She was respectful to them, treated them with dignity. For she called them her "lost souls". She believes she had taken them from a burning pit of hell, and shown them the glorious light. Most of them thank her, but few have left, for she was incapable of stopping their escape. Her body could not stop a being it was incapable of seeing. She let them come and go, for her persona could not accept this thought of constriction. She was a free being and believed every being should have the same freedom.

    She never fought her vision. She didn't want to condemn her body to painful surgery, to regain sight. Her hearing, sense of smell, and touch, where enough for her to engulf herself in imagination. She enjoyed sitting in her garden, or "Garden of Eden" as she called it. She would sit in a wooden chair, with perfect posture, and listen. The birds chirps, the trickling streams. The scent of pine, and roses wafting through the air. She would sit there her eyes focused ahead, and waste away. She take a liking to fashion, or food, or assortments of alcohol or drugs, like many other Capitol residence. She found her peace in solemn loneliness. She loved the independence of being alone, fending for herself. She didn't see a reason to fight her born blindness, but fighting its limitations seemed intriguing. She was very wealthy, bathing in the riches of her family name. She had no blood to share her riches with, and was bothered by this. She was a large sponsor when it came to the games. She fought for her favorites and cried when they died. She didn't understand why the games were so apparent in her day and age, but she settled with it. She understood the thrill of it, but the cruelty behind it made her quiver. Her being blind may in some ways be a curse, but she has never had to watch a child be torn limb from limb, and she is grateful for this.

    She was brought up in a large house. They accepted her with joy, but never fully made her their own. She had no knowledge of her blood family, until the age of thirty-five. When she was informed that her blood mother and father became sickly ill and died. She was given a large sum of money, and never had to work a day in her live. She simply invests her money, and spends her time freely. She found enjoyment in painting, though she couldn't see her results. She moved her hand with a sort of intuition. As if a voice was telling her when her wrist should change direction. Her avoxes always encouraged her painting skills, with light shoulder touches and pats of care. They seemed to like her more then just an owner. Like a sort of mother. She loved them, they had become a part of her heart. Though she may never know who they are, or what they look like, they were the only human contact she had. She had made contact with president snow on rare occasion. She sometimes invested her money in projects that he proposed. But they weren't the closets of friends. For she didn't take a liking to most of his judgments. Especially when it came to the Districts.

    She was born blind in her left eye, and her vision was blurred in her right. By the age of seventeen her vision was one hundred percent gone. She never was aware of her blood parents reasoning for leaving her. But she had heard that they weren't the greatest of people, and a child would not have been a step in the right direction for them. Her blood father struggled with abuse and drugs, and her mother drugs. Neither of them capable of caring for another being. Her foster parents had taken in many children. Housing seven children, by the time she was fifteen. There money went toward providing for the children. The parents were wealthy, but only wealthy enough for the essentials. They never had the money to afford her expensive surgery. She was given glasses, but they didn't help. They have always felt sorry for not being able to restore her vision, but she has accepted this. Now that she has become a mature older women, she has decided that she didn't want to see the world for what it was. She was intent with her life of blindness, never wanting to expose herself to the worlds hatred. 

    She made time annually to visit her foster family. She never made a deep connection with the father of the house, or any of the "siblings". But she was deeply attached to her "mother". She loved her with all of her heart. And now that her mother has become older she is there more often to provide for the foster home. Pamela has funded the home since the day she was given her large sum of money. She has given back since she was capable. She is a person of dignity. She will not except the care of others, until she is sure that she can return the favor. It was the way she was brought up, and she has held on to this. Her mother has taught her much about this world. She was taught of the cruelty and darkness, but also the kindness and light. Her mother loved to craft the most delicate of things. Like rose gardens, and sketching. Pamela was never capable of visually enjoying her mothers artistry, but she always made it clear that she enjoyed her mothers crafting. She would sit for hours at her feet and listen to her hum a delicate tune, and rock in her chair. That was her save haven, her salvation.

    She had made amends with her lifestyle. Never fully being satisfied, but making her own way. Sure her life was lonesome, but she endured. She didn't need to companionship of another, she only needed peace within herself. She found that the way she lived, with compassion, and joy, and care, was plenty to live a long and complete life. She wasn't afraid of death, in some ways she already considered herself to be dead. Living in heaven on earth. She didn't have much to ask for, and isn't that in some ways heavenly? She thought so, and so she continues her life of carelessness, and freedom. Waiting for the day that her life will really end, and she can open the next chapter of her souls journey.