Listen to the wind blow // Circe&Jupiter day one

The sand has already begun to stick to my skin, sweat dripping down my forehead as the wicked sun radiates heat. There was not a body of water in sight, dry land was never good for siren.

Sera and I had not spoken much as we escaped the draining tunes of the mutt stacked band. I had not much in common with the girl from six, her cynicism of balanced against my own cold nature. No doubt that we did not exactly like each other, an irrelevant fact, I did not need to like her. I preferred not to like her for the day would come where she would need to go. Emotions had always gotten in the way of success. Mother said it was a women’s best weapon, but I was still learning how to wield it.

Around us tall status stood dramatically against the yellow-beige sand. Shapes resembling the human body morphed into something other. Abstract and perfectly set with the low tune of the band still playing. There was no telling if it was engrained in my mind or if the wind had carried it over. Non the less its effect had been something I had never experienced before with when it came to music. A concept I often sought safety in, granting me refuge from the twisted minds lurking behind every glass wall at home.

My lips pressed together humming a simple tune, resisting the one the gamemakers had poisoned our ears with. A hymn to the kraken who carefully watched over the girls seeking refuge in a place filled with sin. My mother’s story. Hafen’s story. My story, even when I wished for it to be nothing else but a tale. Stories never did come true, and I had never come to learn the true meaning of safety.

Before I realized, I had drifted away from Sera. Not with intention, my eyes darting around the statues wondering where she had gone. Or had she left on purpose? Searching for Portia in what seemed to be an eternal desert. The girl from one was fast, if she had taken off elsewhere I doubt Sera would ever be able to find her. Whatever abilities the girl from six possessed, it was unmatched in the specialties of careers.

At least the type of career I was desperate to prove myself as.

My fingers grazed the body of the red statue as I continued to hum my song. Was Lore watching? I would have assumed they all were, some rooting for my early death. I wouldn’t put it past some of my siblings to have even bet I would not make it far. My mute brother would understand, the tune one I had taught him. What became my refuge had eventually become our secret. A promise that I would be on that train back home with my heart still beating.

From the corner of my eye, a silhouette lurking. The boy from one, the one with the cold eyes and static face. My hands still lightly tracing the statue I turned to face him, wondering if he would make the first move; swing his fist in my direction. A waiting game.

“What do you think about the arena? Personally, I think it could use a little more red” I folded my arms across my chest, trying to hide some of the skin my stylist failed to cover. My lips in their ever-present annoyed pout.