transience ; arbor/celia {{ aya/ava }} ; blitz

c e l i a .

{{ i woke up to reality ;

. . .

( "Then don't wake up." )

She'd shot an equitable bullet in the head for all she marked as even somewhat tolerable. It was a conceivable thought that'd passed her mind as hour sent by back and forth along the sky, where the day turned to night and back to the first. She spent all her time staring alongside the window seat, watching as the lights from Twelve, Eleven, Ten, and so on slip into the fading wilds of forests as the train passed through, and around, each one. Refusal to move from her cabin throughout the duration of the trip, she'd only meet face with her mentor, Arbor, when he'd checked in to see if she hadn't disemboweled herself already. She called him a forlorn being and he hadn't bothered her since then- much like dying, guilt was not among her character and thus she slit her lips against her serrated, silver tongue once again. However, she'd always been tolerant of the twinge. Must've been the anesthesia.


Grabbing a paring blade from the counter of the kitchen, they'd finally been off the train and into the Capitol. Fascinated by the improvement in selection of utensils, particularly knives, Celia'd commenced collecting them within her fur coat pockets, and stashing the varieties within her room. Though, looking up from the counter she eye'd Arbor, matching eye contact with her, suspiciously, bringing a look of consideration drawn upon his face, though in retaliation she mustered a smize, matched with a wicked grin hid behind a facade of virtue. She could tell he couldn't quite read her very well, and she found pleasure in this little game they play.

"I've an instinct about you, y'know, Arbor."

. . .

only to chase my daydream }}

table inspired by rook