helly /d9

she never stays in one spot for very long.

it's like there's a tide beneath her skin- like how a bird might follow it, she goes south across the district for the winter and then you'll find she's gone west for the spring. she moves as required for the temp work she takes on and isn't very good at goodbyes. one day she's there and the next the windows of her brief homesteads are dark, a fresh vacancy sign on the door. she doesn't take much with her but often leaves behind the dog-eared paperbacks, ticket stubs and the other vague little clues left behind by a mutable sense of self.

the bulk of what she inevitably accumulates is often forgotten in the discarded shells, a strange shrine to a lonely existence.

district nine learned young not to trust strangers but helly with her disarmingly warm smiles has a way about her that few know how to reckon with. there's an honest kindness to her that runs off of her like spring melt. it pools at her feet, crystalline, and fills every room she stands in with refracting light.

she has a way of seeing people in a way that they never have been before and lives seem to come together around her, drawn in by that underlying current, and swirl around each other in her strange tides. they never make it much closer than that.

no matter how much she entangles herself, helly knows that she's better of as a question mark. there are too many aspects of herself that don't connect like they should. when she feels herself slipping, when someone sees a glimmer of the fragmented pieces below her surface, that's when it's time to leave again.

she gives the world her smile, but the rest is hers alone.

she never stays in one spot for very long.