My Tears are Made of Hot Chocolate? (Chase)

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shrimp
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My Tears are Made of Hot Chocolate? (Chase) Oct 3, 2010 12:37:56 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Oct 3, 2010 12:37:56 GMT -5

galaxy clements
~Oh hey look, it's my bio~

It's fricking freezing out here.

As I stand outside, shivering in my gaudy sweater and thick pants, I wonder why I forgot my house key today. I mean, any other day would have been fine, but it's fricking cold out here. I don't like the cold weather. I prefer to be in a warm climate with the sun beating down on my back. I mean sure, I get sunburn very easily, but it's better than freezing your butt off.So I'm standing on my porch, hoping that my father forgot to bring his papers to work. Then he'll come home, and see my frozen Popsicle-ness stuck to the wood. Wonderful.

But I'd rather not die today. I have more to live for. Father finally let me into that internship at the observatory this morning. I can hardly contain my excitement - it's about to burst. Well, it already did burst, when I saw the astrologist who requested me and screamed at him in joy. He looked... A bit shocked, to say the least.

So now I'm still stuck out here. I could go in through a window, but I'll have to pay for damages. So I decide to just... Walk away. Maybe I'll find somewhere with heating somewhere else. But I've been standing out here for about... two hours? Yeah, this isn't good.

This happened once before, only I was with my mother. I remember us standing outside, attempting to get indoors. But the key broke or something. I remember crying.

"Mama, I don't wanna die!"

"Oh sweetie, we're not going to die!"

She laughed, a sweet, kind laughter that was filled with all of the good things about life. I miss that laugh so much.

So we started to walk. We walked down the road, for a long time. I finally felt my shoes hit stone, and looked up. We were in the District Square. I remember being dragged into a warm place, given a large cup of hot chocolate. Yum.

I find myself walking the same path from those many years ago. I sigh. Why couldn't she be alive still? I know she would have been proud of me. I mean, I'm the youngest person in the history of Panem to be an intern at the observatory. That's got to count for something? Right?

But my father doesn't think so. How could he? It's what I love to do - study the stars. It's my dream, and he tried to ruin it. Sure, he eventually let me do the internship, but it was reluctantly.

But he doesn't deserve to be in my thoughts. They trail back to my mother, the greying auburn hair, the freckles on her face, the wrinkles that appeared in her last months - her stress showing on her dying face.

A sob wrenches itself from my mouth. How could she be gone? It's not fair! She was better than so many people here, and yet she's gone. Dead. The remains of her corpse dropped into a hole six feet underground, never to see the light of day again. Her colleagues almost never mention her - it's as if she disappeared off the face of the planet. And she did. But you don't have to act like she never existed.

My feet hit stone. I look up. I'm in the District Square, in front of a little café. It's very quaint. I sniff a bit, and open the door. Suddenly, I'm hit with the warm smell of... Is that hot chocolate? I haven't had that for a long time. The owners must be well-off. It's pretty hard to get chocolate nowadays.

I sit at a small, round table. A waitress comes over, and asks me what I'd like. What I'd like? Oh, there's a menu in front of me. I just ask for a mug of hot chocolate. It calms me down I guess, for when the steaming mug of chocolate-y goodness arrives, I've stopped crying.

It comes with a cookie. How sweet. I dip the cookie into the chocolate, and munch on it. I remember doing this when I came here with mom. But I don't cry this time.

I just sit, and enjoy the warmth that the drink has given me. It's almost as calming as my mother's voice.

Last Edit: Dec 22, 2010 17:51:31 GMT -5 by shrimp

chaseee
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My Tears are Made of Hot Chocolate? (Chase) Oct 4, 2010 18:18:30 GMT -5

Post by chaseee on Oct 4, 2010 18:18:30 GMT -5

A door is thrown open, and slammed shut again. Feet slam on solid concrete, creating a disturbing echo among the streets of District Six. Gerya Keeni, a tortured young soul, flees down the street, trying her best to put as much distance as possible between herself and that dreadful house. Oh, gracious no, the house is not terribly ugly, as the previous sentence might have you think. It is actually fairly nice looking compared to some of the other structures in the district. What Gerya dreads returning to, is the person inside it.

Bear. Her brother. Well, at least that's what she had been told as a small child. But doubt coursed through her at the moment. There were far more differences between the two individuals than there were similarities. For one, the very thought of consuming human flesh sent spasms of nausea flitting through her stomach, whereas Bear would think the idea was simply delightful.

Having no particular talent in direction, Gerya finds herself running into the unknown. With no one else to guide her, she leaves it to her gut (which honestly wasn't feeling that great currently) to steer her through the twisty turns of the District Square. If you think about it, there wasn't that much to it. But for Gerya, the place was an impossible maze, with all the alleyways leading to crackhouses and prostitutes. It was the very reason she tried to avoid the place alltogether.

But, eventually, the girl found her way. She stood in front of a busy coffee shop. The smell of baked goods and flavored motor oil (more commanly referred to as "coffee") wafted from the propped door. She found herself repeatedly inhaling, trying to engrave the smell's very texture into her damaged brain. Leaning slightly, she rummaged in her pocket untill she found a few coins. Nodding her consent, she trudged into the heavenly shop, thinking the day might not turn out that bad after all.

Plopping down in an empty booth, Gerya found herself picking up the menu, and skimming through the fancy food words. Cinammon rolls? What in blazes were they? And this... this coffee cake. Wasn't it bad enough they had to turn the thing into a drink? But one thing stuck out at her. It was called 'Hot chocolate.' It sounded tasty, and anything with chocolate in it struck her as being just fine.

Waving down a waitress, the distressed girl repeated her order. The tiny woman with the notepad nodded at everything she said, and turned around, all but flying towards the counter to put in her order. Glancing around, Gerya discovered why.
The place received little to no business. Sure, they had the best goods in town, but people these days just could not afford to buy these simple luxuries. Gery just happened to have a little bit of loose change ~~thanks to her mother's prostitution money~~.

Leaning back on the hard cushion behind her, Gerya spotted a girl, about her age, also sitting alone, a few tables over. She seemed to be... crying? The sight made Gerya's own eyes tear, but she closed them for the breifest of moments, and forbid the notion. She had to be strong right now. After all, she was a Keeni.

She got up from her own table, and stalked over to the other girl's. Gerya had to wonder if the girl even wanted company. She was a wreck. She knew that if it had been herself in the girl's position, she would have locked herself up in her bedroom, and told anyone who came along to go shove a stick up their merry a-... but she hadn't done this, of course. She knew Bear wasn't above using violence on people now, proof of the theory lay in that mysterious backpack of his.

Flinging herself onto the opposing bench, Gerya stuck out her hand, palms extended. "Um, my name's Gerya. Gerya Keeni. Pleasure to meet you?"

OOC-Gah! Sorry it's so short D: I'm a phail.

Last Edit: Oct 4, 2010 18:52:04 GMT -5 by chaseee

Rosetta: Why do you think you have so many friends?
Rosetta: My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard!

shrimp
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My Tears are Made of Hot Chocolate? (Chase) Oct 6, 2010 20:25:36 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Oct 6, 2010 20:25:36 GMT -5

----------

G A L A X Y - M A R I E - C L E M E N T S

THINKING/LIVING - F2AE3B
SPEAKING - A25E1F
FLASHBACK - BC7C25

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(OOC: it was only 10 words less than mine xD)

The thick, warm chocolate rushes down my throat in a melody of smooth, wonderful goodness. It's amazing how a little bit of sweets can brighten your day by so much. I sip the sugary substance, indulging in my own personal paradise. It's heavenly.

Now if only my mother was here to share it with me. She used to love little shops like this. I guess making ground-breaking discoveries in science comes in handy once in a while. She had enough money to do a lot of things. Well, except for the most important action.

I was young when her cancer was discovered. We hadn't learnt about it in school yet, so I had no idea as to how deadly it could be without treatment. But as the months flew by I was able to deduce that for myself. She became more frail - It was hard for her to get to work in the mornings. She eventually was forced to retire early in life. But every night, I'd walk into my mother's bedroom and watch the stars with her. She's point out the constellations as well.

"Look Galaxy, that's Cassiopeia!"

"And over there, see that bright star in the sky? That's Polaris; the North Star. And that's Gemini, see the two figures? That one's Castor, and the other one's Pollux."

But as the months turned into a year, my father began to usher me out of the room, saying that "mommy needs her rest if she's to get better."

Lies. All of it was lies. My scheming father knew that there wouldn't be a cure coming any time soon for his wife. But he kicked his daughter out of her mother's life. Or at least, he tried to. The picnics on the college lawn stopped completely. My mother was forced to stay in bed all the time. Her complexion, lively with color and a slight tan, turned deathly white in the course of her sickness. Her smile, strong and healthy, turned weak and sickly.

She was already dead during the last few weeks of her life. I heard sobbing late at night. It wasn't my mother's voice though. And that's when I knew that there truly was no hope for her.

On the last day of her life, she called me into her room, and we had a conversation. It was a simple one, about the weather, the upcoming hunger games, the constellations. You know, stuff.

But as I was about to leave, she took my hand in her's.

"Galaxy darling, promise me one thing. Don't ever give up on your dream. Don't succumb to other peers. Just be yourself."

Be yourself. Those were the last words my mother ever spoke to me. She died a few hours later. There was no trace of a smile on her lips.

Galaxy Clements, why can't you just be like a normal person and move on? Well that's a simple question to answer: Because I don't want to. I don't want to forget about her. What if moving on means losing the part of you that was so attached to her that you forgot all of the good memories about your mother, the ones before she got sick? That can't happen. It absolutely cannot. I'll die before I forget about my mom.

My father on the other hand, well that's a different story.

But I'm shaken from my thoughts when I hear footsteps. I turn to see a girl. She looks around my age and has the same color hair. Wow, I've never ever met somebody with similar hair to mine; except for my mother of course. But mom's hair was different - silky, wavy strands fell to the side of her eyes, dangling in an almost comical way. My hair however falls straight and lands in front of my eyes.

But I can tell - the color looks synthetic. It's too saturated, brighter than normal red-heads. And her hair, well... It's so long! It practically touches her butt for crying out loud!

And her eyes, they are beauties. Hazel-brown and Brown-hazel. Complete opposites, yet drawn together in an amazing fashion. I could stare at those for a while... except they probably don't glow in the dark like my star-friends. Not like they're my friends or anything, but I spend more time with them than with people, so I consider them to be almost human.

Gerya Keeni... I like that name. It's unique, cool. Not like I should be talking, my name isn't cool at all. Uniqueness, sure it's unique but nobody cares about that. They just call me "Space-cadet Galaxy" or something. I'm not exactly sure about what they call me - I try not to listen to them.

I smile, and attempt to wipe the dry tear marks from my eyes using my long sleeves. It doesn't really work, but I could just pretend that it was allergies or something.

"Hi Gerya, I'm Galaxy. Have I seen you around or something? School maybe?"

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