Crystaline, pristine as they fell. Mercy watched them with hopeful eyes, yearning to be as free as those little delicate flakes that came with the cold of winter. There was a certain magic hidden in the smaller things- she had learned that long ago and she now actively looked for it underneath every stone she crossed paths with.
Lately, there hasn’t been much.
She stuffed her hands into her pockets, sweater warm against her back, and said a silent goodbye to the snow as she walked inside a coffee shop and ordered a coffee.
When she took her seat, she noticed a boy around her age with a red nose, chapped cheeks. She remembered what it was like when she had first been arrested and they had forgotten her blanket, remembered how cruel the winter had been, and while her eyes glistened with a most haunted past, she put on a warm smile and handed over her scarf without thinking twice.
“Made it myself,” she explained, setting it on the table in front of him, “And I don’t mind making another later.”
❝ GOLDEN CHILD, LION BOY, TELL ME WHAT IT'S LIKE, ❞
Post by d2m claudio markham [windy] on Dec 30, 2017 17:55:45 GMT -5
It’s warmer here than it is at home right now, all slammed doors and clipped tones to match the snow that had started to blanket the district the night previous. The house is old, and the windows and doors do little to guard from the wind at present. Ma’s been howling to match it, coiled in on herself in concern like she always is when Pop has to go to the Capitol for any length of time. I can’t find it in me to blame her, even when she’s calling after me that I’m never going to keep up with my sister, that I’m not training hard enough, that I’m not good enough to carry our family name.
Staring down at my tea, I dab at my lip and frown, feeling it pull until the tang of iron sweeps across my tongue. The day I taught little Taron Elsworth to punch was a mistake, especially now that he’s sprung up like a weed and grown the muscle mass to keep up. I frown again, brushing my bare hands over my cheeks quickly to stave off the chill, and reach down to take a swig of my tea.
And then there’s a scarf on my table.
I look up, blinking from behind my cup, at the girl before me. She has a warm smile and a warmer voice, and my eyebrows furrow as she offers me her scarf with not strings.
“Uh… Thanks?” I reply, glancing back down before sitting up straighter in my seat and putting my cup down. “What’s the catch though?”