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right to be proud / andromache & izzabel
Sept 30, 2024 17:10:48 GMT -5
Post by andromache s. ⚔️ [d1b] sucy on Sept 30, 2024 17:10:48 GMT -5
a n d r o m a c h e s t e w a r t
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District Eight is a weird one. My mother said to me once that she wouldn't touch someone from Eight with a ten foot pole, calling them new money, despite the fact that she married into money herself and ignoring the obvious question I posed to her: Mother, when the hell are you going to even be in the same District as someone from Eight? But that's her all over. I think she was born a snob. Even if my mother pretends that she herself is immune from being labelled a social climber, somehow that same leniency isn't applied to me. It was always me who had to prove something to her, so that she could prove something to my father, or to the world, or something.
If I make it home, there's a long list of questions I'll finally be able to ask.
Anyway, District Eight. I wonder how long it will take for the first Career academy to be built in Eight now that there's more money circulating. After all, Two is slipping by all accounts, and you just have to look at Thompson Harvard to see it's true. An art academy? Come on. They're churning out kids whose claims to fame will be designing logos for waste disposal plants to hang outside their doors in the hopes that the bright colours and bubbly lettering will distract you from the stink. Stupid. The last couple of years from Eight have been interesting. Sisters, reaped one after the other. Not often you see that happening. Naturally, I'm curious about this year's offerings. Cynder Adair, I already know, is pretty, and can't throw knives to save herself. At the first opportunity, I sidle up to the other girl from Eight. Time to see what she's woven from.
"Izzabel, isn't it?" I don't wait for her to confirm before I go on. I've watched all of the Reaping footage. I know who everybody is -- if I call them by name or by number, it's intentional. "I'll cut straight to it: are you Eight like... new Eight, or like... handcrafts Eight?"
If I make it home, there's a long list of questions I'll finally be able to ask.
Anyway, District Eight. I wonder how long it will take for the first Career academy to be built in Eight now that there's more money circulating. After all, Two is slipping by all accounts, and you just have to look at Thompson Harvard to see it's true. An art academy? Come on. They're churning out kids whose claims to fame will be designing logos for waste disposal plants to hang outside their doors in the hopes that the bright colours and bubbly lettering will distract you from the stink. Stupid. The last couple of years from Eight have been interesting. Sisters, reaped one after the other. Not often you see that happening. Naturally, I'm curious about this year's offerings. Cynder Adair, I already know, is pretty, and can't throw knives to save herself. At the first opportunity, I sidle up to the other girl from Eight. Time to see what she's woven from.
"Izzabel, isn't it?" I don't wait for her to confirm before I go on. I've watched all of the Reaping footage. I know who everybody is -- if I call them by name or by number, it's intentional. "I'll cut straight to it: are you Eight like... new Eight, or like... handcrafts Eight?"
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