Locks Around New Faces {Tom // Oasis & Anastasia}
Sept 14, 2017 0:53:18 GMT -5
Post by Cameo {RIP Charlie} on Sept 14, 2017 0:53:18 GMT -5
Anastasia Miristioma
Age: Five
Confusion is an understatement to define the chaos unraveling within Anastasia’s brain. At such a young age of five, there’s no comprehending the likes of what was occurring. All she could grasp was that the cool liquid of sweetness sparking across her taste buds is called lemonade; that kindness radiates from the women requested to watch her, and that she was referred to as Ma. Surely, she compares nothing to the horrid person Anastasia knew as Mama in the Capitol. Age wrinkles her features in manners the Capitol Citizens would not permit, and solely love coos from the smirk that sculpts her lips. A few words were spoken from her, but already Anastasia could sense such difference from the Capitol terrors she knew of.
The overwhelming atmosphere from what was occurring has silenced the already extremely quiet child. Faith had carried her to this foreign land, though still a wave of concern rattles her bones internally. The kitchen they sit within is as luxurious as the house Anastasia had gladly left behind. Cookies rest upon the table before her in a patient wait to fulfill her stomach with their delight, but she doesn’t discover an ounce of desire to consume them. Again, Ma’s voice breaches the hush aroma of this particular room, this time with an explanation to what was happening within the bustling noise down the hall.
Eyes widen in fear of the news being vocalized. Surely Kirito had shared every detail of what awaited them within this home; of a glorious family, of a new baby that’d eventually be joining them. But such an addition was not told to be welcomed so soon. Anxiety ripples through the five-year-old with horror of what she should expect. Solely what painfully rumbles through her thoughts is the fret of being the terrible older Sibling that she had to this arriving infant. What if her new Parents insist on them wrestling as her last ones did? What if she’s unable to resist saying unforgivable matters to this upcoming baby? What if she horrifically hurts it? She had no time to prepare how she’d avoid being just like her big Brother.
The moment that Ma’s attention is distracted for a mere second, Anastasia bolts from the kitchen in a frenzy to hide. There’s an instinct to dash past the front door, but she doesn’t dare to do such to her new family – not unless she discovers she’s a burden here as well. Instead a closet greets her to a sanctuary. The darkness and petite space cradles her in a manner she’s taught herself to be her only comfort. Tears stream down her cheeks while she’s graced with the moment of isolation, as she also taught herself to never cry in front of others. But far sooner than expected, a voice calls for her name in a worried search.
Enough time isn’t permitted for her to erase the evidence of her emotions. The closet door is creaked open, and Ma’s arms are automatically embracing the sobbing child. Now the fears of her conforming to be her big Brother has Anastasia physically shivering within the warmth of Ma’s hug; her gentle whimpers attempting to collect themselves. To no surprise she’s questioned on what is wrong, though no cause verbalizes from the young girl – leaving no understanding to be formed. A sigh wisps past Ma’s lips. But as Anastasia calms from her meltdown, it’s the best that can be wished for.
A refusing gesture jostles Anastasia’s head from side to side. Gently Kirito’s been insisting for her to meet her new Mother and Sister; but until Ana’s assured in herself to not be her big Brother, she’ll sternly resist meeting the baby. Her heart continues to violently throbs from the distrust she’s placed upon herself. And what if Oasis doesn’t approve of her anyhow, and she’s sent back to where she came? Her own biological family despises her, perhaps she’s destined to consistently fail.
“Trust me, they’re going to love you.” Kirito promises in his reassurance, though only unconvinced eyes stare up at him. Evidently, he’s as stubborn as she is, leaving her to cave soon enough.
Even more brutally her heart pounds against her petite ribs as she enters the room. Her tiny fingers softly curl into her palm, as she assumes she has to contain the mean nature she’s destined to have from her genetics. And even still she remains upon the wall closest to the door, in case a swift exit is required.
Upon the other side of the room a beautiful women rests within a bed. Anger doesn’t gloom from her as it always did with Anastasia’s Capitol Mother, nor does fakeness loom in the depths of her features. She gleams to be as loving as Ma is, and as caring as Kirito is. Though still this does not bring Ana a mere step closer, nor breaches a single word from her lips.
