feast your eyes [gaby]
Feb 2, 2017 16:12:54 GMT -5
Post by solo on Feb 2, 2017 16:12:54 GMT -5
Riven Fowley
Finally, it's lunch time. I've spent my entire morning at the self-defense station, and physically, I'm exhausted. I make a mental note to visit the camouflage and plants station this afternoon, where I can sit and paint and press buttons and not have to move or push someone into the ground. I need a break from being around so many people, but I know that's not an option at this point. I need to be around them as much as possible, gather all the information that I can before I'm pitted against them in the arena. So far, I'd say things are going fairly well.
I'm at the back of the line, but when I get to the table, there's still just as much food as there was when the tributes started piling up their plates. What amazes me about the Capitol is the endless supply of food they have. In District Ten, there were days that went by when our bellies were never full. And even then, my family has it better off than most of the others. In the poor parts of our district, there are those who can go a day or two at a time without eating anything at all. Here, you are expected to stuff yourself at every meal, and there will still be food left over when you're done.
I grab a plate, and with quick, steady hands, I gather on to it a chicken breast covered in some sort of thick, white cream, glazed carrots, golden mashed potatoes soaked in butter, and a roll of white bread that still feels warm, like it was just baked. There's loads more to eat on the table, but I put the restraints on and try to stick with what I have. There's still dessert, and I can always go back for seconds.
I turn around, ready to sit somewhere that I can be alone and people-watch. I spot a welcoming chair in the back corner, secluded from the others. But then my gaze lands on a somewhat familiar head of brunette hair. I hesitate, then adjust my coordinates and head in her direction.
"Hey Leticia." I murmur, and take a seat beside her. She's a bit sour and hot-headed for my taste, but she's all I've got. Her, and two others. The three who could be the difference between by life and death.
I pick the roll off my plate, holding it in my tiny hand, and take a bite. Warmth fills my mouth and the smell of yeast floats up into my nose. We never had bread like this in Ten.
"It's crazy how much food they have here." I say with a small laugh, hoping to start up a conversation. I want her to like me, don't I? "Always more than you can eat."
I'm at the back of the line, but when I get to the table, there's still just as much food as there was when the tributes started piling up their plates. What amazes me about the Capitol is the endless supply of food they have. In District Ten, there were days that went by when our bellies were never full. And even then, my family has it better off than most of the others. In the poor parts of our district, there are those who can go a day or two at a time without eating anything at all. Here, you are expected to stuff yourself at every meal, and there will still be food left over when you're done.
I grab a plate, and with quick, steady hands, I gather on to it a chicken breast covered in some sort of thick, white cream, glazed carrots, golden mashed potatoes soaked in butter, and a roll of white bread that still feels warm, like it was just baked. There's loads more to eat on the table, but I put the restraints on and try to stick with what I have. There's still dessert, and I can always go back for seconds.
I turn around, ready to sit somewhere that I can be alone and people-watch. I spot a welcoming chair in the back corner, secluded from the others. But then my gaze lands on a somewhat familiar head of brunette hair. I hesitate, then adjust my coordinates and head in her direction.
"Hey Leticia." I murmur, and take a seat beside her. She's a bit sour and hot-headed for my taste, but she's all I've got. Her, and two others. The three who could be the difference between by life and death.
I pick the roll off my plate, holding it in my tiny hand, and take a bite. Warmth fills my mouth and the smell of yeast floats up into my nose. We never had bread like this in Ten.
"It's crazy how much food they have here." I say with a small laugh, hoping to start up a conversation. I want her to like me, don't I? "Always more than you can eat."
THROUGH ALL MY MAKE BELIEVE
THERE'S SOME REALITY
THERE'S SOME REALITY
{Word Count: 464}
