after the storm ❁ ludo&haze

«    h a i z e a    r o s e - i z a r    »

"Alright, this is the last ya get, Izar," the peacekeeper says, she notices he has green eyes behind the visor. 

Say something, she hears in Yani's voice, but her throat croaks as she tries to. She stumbles her way into defending herself, "Rose," a fragment, "it's Rose-Izar." A rebellion in three words alone - it may not be much, but she felt a flicker of pride in her gut. The white cap hesitates at the door, back to her and turning as she speaks up, a young girl slipping between him and the door frame. 

"What?" He barks, what did you say to me? She hears it in the way he approaches her, looking down upon her. Intimidation in the way he hovers over her, but she doesn't break her eye contact, not even for a moment. No matter how the pressure builds in her shoulders, a fifteen year old fear trying to creep its way into her feeble courage. You can't scare me, the little voice of Yani backing her up. 

"I said, my name is Haizea Rose-Izar," both, neither more important than the other. 

If you're going to kill me, at least know what to put on my head stone. She watches as his glance goes from herself to the ukulele on the desk behind her, and for a second she fears what sly trick he has up his sleeve. There's always something when the keepers are involved, but after a second, he takes a step back. In his absence, she feels as if she can breathe again. "Five minutes," he says, "not a second more." His voice laced with apathy, and she wonders which district he hails from. What sad, sad ego it must take to cower into such a role. 

Haizea exhales as the door shuts, taking deep breaths as both relief and anxiety crash over her in waves. Drags her to the seashore, away from herself and drowning in the flooding of emotions. Her hands shake and her knees wobble, but she just clears her throat and takes a seat, trying to collect herself. She had almost forgotten the girl had entered the room at all, her last visitor of the hour. 

"Ay dios mio," she speaks to the floor, head bowed as she catches up to herself. After a breath or two, Haze faces what she assumes to be another cousin, somehow someway. "I hope this isn't rude, but I'll be happy to leave this building," even if it means being one step closer to leaving her home behind. The villa beckons, but these chains don't budge. "I hope you know our family's good people," she says, "well, most of them." 

Where are my manners? 

"What's your name?"