bastard children [haze/amor] JB

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kap
Retired Staff

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Pronouns: they/them
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trans rights are human rights <3

bastard children [haze/amor] JB Jan 28, 2023 9:48:03 GMT -5

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Post by kap on Jan 28, 2023 9:48:03 GMT -5

Was she even really my cousin? It was hard for me to tell at this point what the family relations were on the Izar side of my family. It was all a confusing mess, to be totally honest. The Lanhua side was much easier to understand: there weren't all that many of us, and the world didn't pay us much mind since Ping died. Being an Izar, however? That'll get you a lot of attention.

When she— Haizea that is— was picked at the reaping, it honestly took me a moment or so to remember quite who she was. I know that sounds bad, but it's true. I honestly don't know if I had ever even met her before, despite some sort of weird blood relation that seems to allegedly exist between us somewhere down the line.

Somethings still told me, though, that I needed to visit her. I hardly new a thing about her, but I knew she was probably full of fear in that moment. At least, I would've been if it were me instead. An Izar had never won the Hunger Games. That just wasn't how it worked. Or, maybe I was completely wrong: maybe she was looking forward to it. Judging by the way she froze at the reaping when her name was called, though, I'm highly doubting that's the case.

I decided that I'd make my way to the Justice Building. I opened the door to the room she was in somewhat slowly, so as to not to be arriving too aggressively.

"Hey," I greeted her simply. "I know we've probably hardly ever talked, if at all, honestly, but I wanted to see how you're holding up. Maybe give you a bit of a pep-talk too."

I gave her a small smile.

"Oh, and I'm Amor, in case you can't place me. A sort-of... half-cousin, I suppose?"

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bastard children [haze/amor] JB Jan 28, 2023 12:48:29 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Jan 28, 2023 12:48:29 GMT -5

« h a i z e a r o s e - i z a r »

Her rhythm never quite catches back up to her, shaking with the release of every emotion she could imagine. Fear, sorrow, adoration, glee, rage, and disgust. They come to her like colors of the rainbow, she almost can't control it. Haizea stands in the middle of the chaos - it swirls around her but in the silence it's almost eerie. She doesn't budge until Elias Izar leaves the room and even then some, she's stuck, replaying the exchange over and over and longing for what she could have said.

I'll never understand, she accepts.

And the storm subsides shortly after, as she takes a seat with a deep breath. She buries her face in her hands to stop the spinning, a pounding in her head taking hold of any wandering thoughts. What next? It's almost agony to still be in this room and she may not even be halfway through it all. The darkness of her eyelids is much more comforting than the sight of her holding cell, at least there she can play pretend a minute longer.

Slowly, the door creeks open again. Haizea doesn't lift her gaze at first, clinging to the minute's relief of solitude. Never ready but always moving, she's learning to adapt to it. Gather yourself in seconds, mijita, and she tries. She really tries. The softest of hey's catches her attention, but it's a labor to make eye contact.

The words are kind, but the smile is what she needed.

She doesn't recognize her visitor, but in a way that may be for the best. It was becoming overwhelming dealing with all her loose ends - "well, I'd much rather a hello over another good bye right now." Haizea doesn't move from the chair, her energy drained over the last hour's time.

"It's nice to meet you, Amor, would I know your parents?" She asks, distracting herself with piecing together how they've come to know each other. Family is so strange in the way she's come to yearn for it, she always felt so content with just her mother and abuela. "My mother is Lina Rose," she states, "the other is Elias," it feels terrible to confess it.

kap
Retired Staff

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Pronouns: they/them
last seen Jul 4, 2024 19:59:43 GMT -5

trans rights are human rights <3

bastard children [haze/amor] JB Feb 1, 2023 20:46:20 GMT -5

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Post by kap on Feb 1, 2023 20:46:20 GMT -5

Ventures into the Justice Building are something one might expect I had more experience with, given the amount of Izars that have been turned into Games fodder— er— tributes, over the years. Luckily, anyone who assumed as much would be wrong. I'd managed to avoid any trips into the Justice Building and its room of goodbyes up until now. This was my first, and Haizea was right: it was more of a hello.

"It's nice to meet you, Amor, would I know your parents?" She wants to know as she shares who her own parents are. "My mother is Lina Rose," she tells me, "the other is Elias." I wonder if I sense a hint of distaste at her mention of Elias. I supposed I couldn't blame her. I'd never properly met him, but I'd heard plenty of stories.

"Fa Lanhua is my mother," I tell her. Most people these days don't remember the Lanhua name at this point. It's been long enough for them to forget the poor girl who was first to go in the Seventy-Ninth, speared in the neck.

"Deval Izar is my father." I'd honestly started to lose track of the family connections: who was related to who and how they were. I didn't even think about the fact that I might've been wrong about how exactly we were related, but I supposed that didn't matter right then. This was a hello. A welcome. An introduction. If I overthought things, that could make things stressful, and stress was the opposite of what Haizea needed right now.

"Since this is a hello, I figure we should learn a bit about each other, right?" I asked her, trying to make a more positive conversation.

"I make and sell jewelry to the people in the District," I explain. "I've got a bracelet I made that I wear for luck."

I hold up my wrist to show off the bracelet, made with little green beads, meant to imitate jade stones, since I couldn't afford the real thing. I then put my arm back down, and my eyes meet a white wooden ukelele situated near Haizea.

"Is that your good luck charm?" I ask, motioning to it. "Looks like it could be a good one."

My mom's side of the family was all about luck and superstition, and for some reason, I really did get the feeling that there was something lucky about that instrument Haizea had. I decided to share that with her, too.

"My mom's side of my family has always been all about lucky charms."