You Matter to Me [Arianna/Vasco] Feb 13, 2019 1:48:20 GMT -5
Post by zorionak on Feb 13, 2019 1:48:20 GMT -5
Vasco IzarAnd though I don't believe in silver linings,I believe there's something in you.something good is trying to break throughyou might have to fight the good fightand when you think you can't, you cantake it from an old man
I remember my reaping days.
Before the sun rose and we set about dressing ourselves, my brothers and I would spend the mornings telling chistes that would’ve made our mother blush (and our father hit us with the wooden spoon). I can still see Druso now, whispering out a tale at the foot of his bed, or Aresti imitating one of the elderly women at the market, with a blanket like a shawl over his shoulders. Even Bakar would poke fun at each of us – settling our stomachs through laughter – because if we knew what it was to love one another, to remember where we came from, we would not be afraid of what we could face.
Peacekeepers dawdle along the corridor of the justice building and I nod, recognizing the ones that tended to mill about outside the mayor’s chambers. There was a time when I would have been anywhere but this building – when I had come face to face with Raquel, my first and most stubborn. I stare at my own photo hanging along the wall ([Mayor Vasco Izar, 80 – ] marked in gold on placard underneath). If she were still alive, I don’t believe I would’ve ever dared to make myself so important.
“Arianna… ?”I knocked at the door, hand heavy against the wood and paused to listen. When an answer didn’t come I placed a hand to the knob and turned to open the door. As experience had taught me, it was best to knock to avoid the unexpected, and better still to let oneself inside when the call went unanswered. I pulled the door closed behind me and stopped.
On the chair along the wall was the body of the child, curled up as though she was already gone to pieces. I took a deep breath seeing her, and steadied myself. I stepped toward her and stopped, making sure to crouch down and take a seat on the floor beside her. I listened for a moment, eyes closed. The muffled sound of voices in the hallway. The whistling draft that came in through the windows. The quiet sound of our own breathing.
“You know, you’re right. It’s much better sitting down.” I say, wrapping my arms around my knees. I give my best smile, even with a lump at the back of my throat. “As Mayor I’m inclined to tell you I’ll do my best to get you sponsorship.” I gave a shrug. “And as a father, that if there is any of your family that I can help to say the word. That is what this district is – family, mija.”*Take It From an Old Man, Waitress