gashina }} vila x heather -blitz-

ᴥ
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gashina }} vila x heather -blitz- Sept 16, 2017 15:10:16 GMT -5

Post by ᴥ on Sept 16, 2017 15:10:16 GMT -5

heather morrison

Its nice outside of grey walls. Away from the rattle of life support, the pulses that I can feel with palms flat upon robot hearts and I feel so much smaller outside. The way the wind kisses my cheeks, hot asphalt beneath bare feet and I can feel them blistering. Because the sky is tainted. Grime lines a blue canvas and I cannot help the way that my smile falters, natural beauty obscured by disease and humanity is to nature like the cancer is through my grandmother's veins. It's hard to find beauty within this district, but the fresh air is nice.

Just a snack shop. Filled to the brim with beautiful sweets, brightly colored wrappers and there are so many that my fingertips yearn to dance across the packaging. To tear into what is hidden beneath. They are like little bits of buried treasure and I am so excited. Grandma gave me seven whole dollars to buy whatever I want and I think she was hoping I'd spend it on something like makeup or dresses.

She always wants me to act more like my father's daughter, to hold myself as the heiress I never was. I can already hear her words, fierce as ever with love buried somewhere deep beneath the sharp edges, You're a Morrison, alright, blowing your money on useless and temporary things. But I like candy.

And I really wasn't staring at her and that's really not why I saw her do it. Slip a little something into her coat pocket and I'd like to think she's just hiding it there for safe keeping. Because she reminds me of a queen, not a princess, but the youth within her features is all too refreshing after the months I have spend surrounded by those who have already begun to rot.

"Ah! Are you going to pay for that?" Perhaps she's forgotten how the world works. But that's okay, maybe that's why I'm here to remind her. The universe is funny like that.

Last Edit: Sept 16, 2017 15:10:46 GMT -5 by ᴥ

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gashina }} vila x heather -blitz- Sept 16, 2017 15:37:39 GMT -5

Post by я𝑜𝓈𝑒 on Sept 16, 2017 15:37:39 GMT -5

v i l a .

She has never stolen out of necessity — the Sarasin family is far from poor. Vila should want for nothing, and yet she does, but not for material things. Her hunger stems from curiosity and her own enjoyment; stealing has become a sport. There is nothing more satisfying than simply knowing that she got away with breaking the law. She's too careful to do something like sell drugs or murder someone (she doesn't have the stomach for it, anyway), so instead she settles for thievery. It's a small crime, but that's all she needs.

Vila Sarasin stands in a snack shop, perusing the aisles of candy and periodically slipping candy bars into her coat pocket. Her hand closes around a chocolate bar and she tucks it into her pocket, which is almost completely full of snacks. She wears large coats for a reason, though, and due to its size, there isn't much of a bulge in the fabric.

Just as she thinks she's going to get away with it once again, someone pipes up.

"Ah! Are you going to pay for that?" a small voice exclaims. Vila's heart shoots up to her throat and she nearly chokes in shock. She's only been caught once before and received a slap on the hand from the shopkeeper.

I swear to Ripred, if this is what gets me in trouble — she loses her train of thought when she turns around and sees the girl who outed her. She is absolutely tiny — "bite-sized," Calanthia may have joked. The girl has long auburn hair that cascades in gentle waves down around her cherubic face.

Vila can see it in her eyes that she is too oblivious to realize what she's done. Luckily, she thinks she still may be able to play it off. She scowls at the girl and fires back, "Of course I'll be paying for it. I'm a Sarasin, do you really think I'd steal?" Using her family name to get away with a crime — good one.

"I was just putting it in my pocket so I wouldn't get tired of holding it in my hand, duh," she huffs, crossing her arms in frustration. You better not cost me my game, she says silently to the girl, narrowing her eyes at her.

She's cute, admittedly, but that doesn't mean Vila is willing to let her throw her under the bus.

"even stars burn out."

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gashina }} vila x heather -blitz- Sept 16, 2017 16:08:10 GMT -5

Post by ᴥ on Sept 16, 2017 16:08:10 GMT -5

heather morrison

I don't have very much experience with people my age. Most of my life, I have been nothing more than my grandmother's keeper. Listening to her constant criticism of my dress, my face, my voice. Nonsensical rambles about how much of a whore my mother was, how she ruined my father but that none of it mattered since I looked more like him anyway. She changed, she changed a lot once the tumor started pressing upon her skull - the polite cruelty that hid just below her sugar coated tongue became apparent.

I don't have very much experience with people my age but I know how to read between the lines. All of my upbringing I was entrenched in politics and while I fell upon my sword, burrowing beneath the veil of nature and spirituality, I can smell deception. Sarasin, the name is familiar. Perhaps my grandmother has mentioned them in one or two of her rants, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth as if her name is that important, she has the money for a darn candy bar.

We don't have such influence anymore. Our pocket books are no longer swollen, filled to the brim with numbers accompanied by at least six zeroes. Seven dollars is the most I've had in a very long time. Sometimes the nurses will pool together, giving me a nickel each so that I can buy some flowers from the shop across the street. Grandma likes red roses, but I prefer them white. I buy the red ones anyway.

"I have seven dollars." I mumble, her gaze makes me feel weird. There's heat in my cheeks and she's so much taller than me that I'd have to stand on my tip toes to meet her eyes. She has to be royalty. The kind that existed long before Panem was even thought buried within the mind of some official somewhere. Adorned in golden thread, with silken garments that hug every inch of a body that so far, I can find no fault with. Her hair is long, face slim and elegant and I can only imagine her with a crown rested upon her temples. With the skulls of a thousand men beneath the sole of her shoe.

I like the thought of that, and I really like her face. But I don't like what she's doing one bit.

"If you forgot your wallet, I could buy you a candy bar. I don't need seven dollars worth of candy bars."

I'm trying to smile but I think I forgot how.

the m o o n controls the t i d e, it could cause you to d r o w n

я𝑜𝓈𝑒
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gashina }} vila x heather -blitz- Sept 16, 2017 16:36:24 GMT -5

Post by я𝑜𝓈𝑒 on Sept 16, 2017 16:36:24 GMT -5

v i l a .

The girl stands on the tips of her toes just to meet Vila's eyes. Despite her annoyance, she can't help but find it almost endearing. "I have seven dollars," she says quietly. If Vila was ruder, she would have replied, "Well I have thousands." And it would not be a lie; the Sarasins are District Two royalty. They even live in a house built to resemble a castle, like in the times of kings and queens that Vila has read about.

"If you forgot your wallet, I could buy you a candy bar. I don't need seven dollars worth of candy bars," the girl goes on. Her voice is so sweet, like honeysuckle on her tastebuds. She used to lick the nectar from their petals with Lucrezia when she was a girl. And her eyes are so wide — wide like brown buttons, and they are lined with sweeping lashes. She reminds Vila of a doll; perfect porcelain skin, small features, saucer-like eyes with a fringe of impossibly thick eyelashes.

Despite her irritation at the girl pointing out that she is a thief, despite everything, Vila doesn't have the heart to belittle her. She gets the feeling that she doesn't need to take the girl down a notch; there is no pride in the way that she carries herself. There is no high horse to kick her off.

"I didn't forget my wallet," Vila replies, pulling it out from her pocket as evidence. She almost takes a few candy bars with it, but manages to keep them stuffed inside. Her wallet is made from fine leather, and it is thick with cash; a few dollars stick out from its sides.

"It's kind of you to offer, but I don't want your money." (A Sarasin wants for nothing.) "Like I said, I'm going to pay for the candy bar," she tries to assure her. Even if she wanted to steal it, the shopkeeper probably heard them; she couldn't get away with stealing the candy at this point, and it would be too suspicious if she put it back. It wasn't that big of a loss financially, but part of her game is ruined now.