close your eyes { zori | blitz }

mercy woods.

"Do you think girls can be pirates?" She jumps at the noise, at first thinking that the words are being addressed to someone other than herself. But then she looks up, scans the station, and realizes there's no one else here. Just her and this girl.

Gillian Imberline, District Eight. Twelve years old.

Mercy shivers at the thought and tries to mentally shake it away.

She can remember the video, recognize the little girl's face projected behind her eyes, mouth open but no noise coming out. She'd started to cry, but not for long. She wiped them away and stared up at the mountain of a boy who came on stage after her. C'rizz Moon, the crazy from Eight who took someone else's spot before the cameras were even trained on their face.

"I like to think girls don't have to be princesses, or damsels in distress."

Mercy tries to focus her attention on the pair of big blue eyes staring through her, but all she can really notice is the color and how much life dances behind them. So much more than her;s ever held, even when she was that age.

"I think girls should be rescuing dudes in distress, don't you?"

Mercy almost laughs at that. Almost. Instead a faint smile tugs at the corners of her lips, strange and unfamiliar. She looks down at the the unraveled rope between her feet.

"I don't think the Capitol would like having pirates around, whether they're girls or guys." she says thoughtfully, and shifts so that she can brush her little collection into a nicer stack. "Guys don't have to do all the rescuing though."

She looks up, making eye contact with the girl for half a second before peering at something behind her. "My name's Mercy."

mercy woods.

The girl visibly shivers, and Mercy can't help wondering why. It's not cold, or at least, she doesn't think it is. Maybe it's something she said.

"I'm Gilly."

What an interesting name. Mercy assumes it's short for something, although she can't figure out what that something might be.

"I know who you are. I wrote down your name in my journal. I said, 'she looks like she wants to be alone,' which I said because you always seem to be off by yourself. Like me."

Well, the girl isn't wrong. Mercy can feel herself smiling a little for the second time in a matter of heartbeats. She glances up, looking the kid over with a new interest. She's observant, Mercy will give her that much. And she certainly doesn't seem to be afraid to talk to people.

"Do you think people can be friends here?"

These catches Mercy off guard, but also seems to intrigue her. Just yesterday she had spoken to a boy about making friends. It seemed to be the hot topic flying across everyone's lips these last few days. It's a fair question.

"I don't feel like I have any friends here at all. But that's okay. I guess that’s supposed to make the next part easier on me somehow."

Mercy's brow knits together in a frown. She looks down at her feet, twisting her fingers together, pulling the skin tight against her bones. Sometimes she thinks she can see the whiteness of them, glowering through her paper-thin shell.

"I think you can find friends here, if you want." She pauses, thinks a moment, turns the idea over in her head and pokes at a few corners. "Not many of the others want to though." Another pause, this time a hesitation. But the girl isn't an idiot, and Mercy's never been one to hold back information for fear of ruining someone's innocence. "And you're right, it does make it easier to not have friends here."

She leans back against the wall and closes her eyes. "Some courageous young souls might tell you otherwise."

It's something she would say to Gabriel.