heliotrope yanover / d12 / fin
Jun 23, 2019 18:52:40 GMT -5
Post by goat on Jun 23, 2019 18:52:40 GMT -5
heliotrope yanover
17
she/her
district 12
17
she/her
district 12
She isn’t sure if she’s named after the plant or the stone, but she figures it doesn’t really matter. Neither are present in the barren landscape of Twelve. Nothing beautiful lives here. There are only starving children, the promise of intergenerational poverty, and the fear— slow, lurking, constant. It cements itself in her veins like sharp ice crystals and refuses to melt.
People butcher her full name on accident and on purpose. Her mother calls her “Helio”, like she cannot bear the burden of the name she gave her own daughter. Her older sisters all have normal names, and here she is, the outlier, the black sheep. Her name aside, she’s always been the designated strange one— the one who hovers in corners, who stands barefoot in fields, who memorizes the name of every dead neighbor and tribute.
She worries that they will be forgotten, and thinks it is up to her to keep that from happening. There are enough dead in the district that sometimes she doesn’t know what’s coal dust and what’s charred remains, but she figures it doesn’t really matter. In the end, everybody will return to the earth, their bodies melting into the dirt, giving back to the planet that took so much from them. Another unfair cycle that cannot be stopped, that Heliotrope plans to welcome when her time comes. She just hopes somebody will remember her as she has remembered everybody else.
People butcher her full name on accident and on purpose. Her mother calls her “Helio”, like she cannot bear the burden of the name she gave her own daughter. Her older sisters all have normal names, and here she is, the outlier, the black sheep. Her name aside, she’s always been the designated strange one— the one who hovers in corners, who stands barefoot in fields, who memorizes the name of every dead neighbor and tribute.
She worries that they will be forgotten, and thinks it is up to her to keep that from happening. There are enough dead in the district that sometimes she doesn’t know what’s coal dust and what’s charred remains, but she figures it doesn’t really matter. In the end, everybody will return to the earth, their bodies melting into the dirt, giving back to the planet that took so much from them. Another unfair cycle that cannot be stopped, that Heliotrope plans to welcome when her time comes. She just hopes somebody will remember her as she has remembered everybody else.
