phases of metamorphosis { ness x arcadia : d7 : day 5 }
Dec 16, 2023 2:56:00 GMT -5
Post by k!ah on Dec 16, 2023 2:56:00 GMT -5
N E S S A
G A R N E R
My back is pressed against the dirt, and my eyes turned to the sky. Rays of artificial sunlight streams through the gaps in the branches above me and for a moment I close my eyes and imagine that the light that touches my cheek is warm, not hot, not like the fire that had raged around me less than an hour ago, but warm like the loving touch of a mother. The thought instantly turns the touch ice cold. I huff a sigh and push myself into a seated position.
After everything that had happened today I had left Arcadia to say goodbye to her friend. It had felt too intimate, too private, for me to be lurking around the edge as she farewelled the hot headed girl from Nine. I had murmured to her as I was leaving that I would meet her in the forrest when she was done. I had been so eager to escape the floor above, to escape the turmoil and devastation that had crashed through it like wild fire.
Every time I blinked I saw Antigone fall, her body encased in an inferno of flames. I heard her screams. They pierced through my heart, and each moment I temporarily forget how to breathe. I had thought that the forrest would offer me a sanctuary from the catacomb that we had barely escaped from as it became engulfed in flames and smoke and blood and death.
So much death.
I shift in my position until my back in pressed into the rough surface of a tree trunk, my eyes turned to the artificial sky once again. I blink slowly, and unconsciously my fingers run through the dirt beneath my hands. How many days had it been now? How many tributes were left? After the explosion, the sound of canon fire became impossible to hear as my ears fought to adjust, to acclimatise. We were past half way I knew that, and it felt surreal.
Suddenly the image of Jackson Reeves face in the Anthem flashes before me and I feel my hands fist in the dirt. Arcadia's icy words slice into me once again. I’m sorry- No, you’re not. She was right. I wasn't. And that, that was what made me hate myself that little bit more. But more than that, the fact that I had felt satisfaction at his death- at another persons death.
I was changing, morphing into someone else. I was losing myself. With each strike of my blade I was loosing a piece of of who I was, becoming a creature of the Capitol, and I wasn't sure I was going to ever be able to find those pieces again.
( scavenges pond )
GIU|Iwd58f1-8
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GIU|Iwd58f1-8
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