the house built on sand ; elias & estelle (jb)
Jun 11, 2021 20:07:46 GMT -5
Post by calla on Jun 11, 2021 20:07:46 GMT -5
E L I A S
I Z A R
There's this -
Alfer stays out too much and Mateo stays in too much. Vasco is mayor again, and he's still driving the district forward on a three-wheeled tractor. They'll be hurtling off a cliff soon - he's said it to Laurel and he's said it to the local paper. And he'll say it again.
But the years haven't exactly been kind, and the house is the quietest it's ever been. It's quiet like the fields and quiet like the square during the reaping. Quiet like the crowd had been when Estelle Stirling-Izar stood on stage and said her name into the microphone.
Laurel hadn't looked away from the boys. Elias hadn't looked up from the ground.
They don't have a daughter. The boys had been born and that had been that. He's only met Cat once, and it was clear from that one visit that she wasn't interesting in ever meeting him again. Elias was never meant to be a father. He knows that. Ella Mae knew that. Laurel knew that. The whole fucking District knew that.
He almost doesn't believe them when they say Estelle is his. A kid that barely comes up to his knee tugs on his coattails on the way home and forces a crumbled piece of paper into his hand, something that looks like it was ripped out of a journal.
He'd been naive enough to hope that the Izar part of her name had come from someone like Jurgi.
Life has never worked out that way.
When Vasco leaves the Justice Building on his way in, Elias doesn't meet his eyes. The Keepers let him in the room and they shut the door and Elias suddenly feels very out of his element.
There's probably something poetic there. Something about actions and consequences and finally having to face them.
Elias clears his throat at the girl standing near the window. The room is quiet as they look at each other, father and daughter meeting for the first time, and he forces himself to be the one to break the silence. To get the first word in. He scuffs his foot against the floor and sighs, wanders across the room and pretends to admire the decor.
He isn't cut out for this.
"Hell of a world, kid," He says, because if she's anything like Cat, she won't want his explanation. Even if he did have one to give.
He sits stiffly and looks for his features in Estelle. He doesn't know what to say.
"How's your mother?"
Alfer stays out too much and Mateo stays in too much. Vasco is mayor again, and he's still driving the district forward on a three-wheeled tractor. They'll be hurtling off a cliff soon - he's said it to Laurel and he's said it to the local paper. And he'll say it again.
But the years haven't exactly been kind, and the house is the quietest it's ever been. It's quiet like the fields and quiet like the square during the reaping. Quiet like the crowd had been when Estelle Stirling-Izar stood on stage and said her name into the microphone.
Laurel hadn't looked away from the boys. Elias hadn't looked up from the ground.
They don't have a daughter. The boys had been born and that had been that. He's only met Cat once, and it was clear from that one visit that she wasn't interesting in ever meeting him again. Elias was never meant to be a father. He knows that. Ella Mae knew that. Laurel knew that. The whole fucking District knew that.
He almost doesn't believe them when they say Estelle is his. A kid that barely comes up to his knee tugs on his coattails on the way home and forces a crumbled piece of paper into his hand, something that looks like it was ripped out of a journal.
He'd been naive enough to hope that the Izar part of her name had come from someone like Jurgi.
Life has never worked out that way.
When Vasco leaves the Justice Building on his way in, Elias doesn't meet his eyes. The Keepers let him in the room and they shut the door and Elias suddenly feels very out of his element.
There's probably something poetic there. Something about actions and consequences and finally having to face them.
Elias clears his throat at the girl standing near the window. The room is quiet as they look at each other, father and daughter meeting for the first time, and he forces himself to be the one to break the silence. To get the first word in. He scuffs his foot against the floor and sighs, wanders across the room and pretends to admire the decor.
He isn't cut out for this.
"Hell of a world, kid," He says, because if she's anything like Cat, she won't want his explanation. Even if he did have one to give.
He sits stiffly and looks for his features in Estelle. He doesn't know what to say.
"How's your mother?"
