;.; Promises Made ;.; ~ {Tsar}

;.; Promises Made ;.; ~ {Tsar} Jul 27, 2011 17:19:57 GMT -5

Post by Eastern Orange on Jul 27, 2011 17:19:57 GMT -5

Fletcher could hardly believe this day had come. He had to admit that he had been worried there for a little while when Heron had her legs blown off. But he should have known better. He knew his ally was a survivor and would not have let a little thing like missing legs stop her from winning; he had been in that mine shaft with her, and knew what she was capable of. Frankly, he was ashamed of himself for ever doubting her.

How long had it been since he saw his ally? Well, only a few months. But it had seemed like forever, and he missed her sorely. Fletcher could hardly sit still; his leg bounced nervously, his fingers twitched with anticipation. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and paced the platform, going over different scenarios in his head (What if she is catatonic? What if she hates the world? What if she doesn’t like me anymore?), while in the back of his mind listening for the whistle of a train.

Eventually, he made his way over to the edge of the station platform, and looked down at the rusted tracks, a few feet below. He sighed with impatience and lifted his eyes to search the distance for plumes of smoke, or the glinting glass of the windows, leaning dangerously over the edge of the platform, eyeing the tracks that reached into infinity.

There. Just there! He saw something shining between the trees. Is that smoke? Is that the whistle? Fletcher leaned further over the edge, desperate to see the train. He lost his balance, and teetered on the edge. Just as he was about to dive face first into concrete, a rough hand grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back to safety. Fletcher blinked slowly, surprised he was still alive. He turned around and met the seemingly cold and distant eyes of Peacekeeper Frost. Fletcher grinned slowly at him, and he smiled uncertainly back.

It was because of Frost that Fletcher even knew that Heron was on her way back to the district today, and it was also because of him that Fletcher was able to wait on the train platform for her. The peacekeeper had showed up at his mine, and caused quite a stir. The miners had scrambled over themselves to appear like the best workers, and when Frost had called for Fletcher, he thought he was going to be arrested for something. He just about fainted from fear. But Frost came with wonderful news! Heron was on her way back, and he was there to take Fletcher to see her! Apparently, the peacekeeper remembered Fletcher from the Justice building and had gone through great pains to find him. This was the same peacekeeper that everyone feared, and loathed; the one that they called cold and heartless. But Fletcher knew better now. Frost wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

“Thanks!” Fletcher said brightly. “And thank you so much for doing this for me!” He laughed, practically bouncing from excitement. Frost cleared his throat uncomfortably, and nodded. “Uh, I think the train is coming.” He said, nodding his head toward the tracks, trying to dodge Fletcher’s gratitude. That was all it took. Fletcher was back at the edge of the platform, bouncing around like an excited puppy, watching the train approach. “Look! Look! It’s Heron! She’s coming! My ally is back!” He practically yelled, stepping back as the train pulled into the station.

;.; Promises Made ;.; ~ {Tsar} Jul 27, 2011 17:26:26 GMT -5

Post by Tsarashi 2.0 on Jul 27, 2011 17:26:26 GMT -5

Six months, two weeks and four days. That was how long it has been since the day the name Heron Kimberling was drawn for the fifty seventh Hunger Games. Meaning that that was also how long it has been since the last time she had seen Fletcher, her ally, the boy who she had declared to be ‘hers’ the moment before she left. But, of course, she hadn’t counted. Her stylist had. The green haired woman had thought it to be an interesting tidbit of information for the victor to take home with her. And it was, she supposed. Only Heron didn’t think of it as how long it’s been, she thought of it as how much longer it would be.

Which wasn’t long according to the man who had just knocked on her train compartment door and announced that they were pulling up to the District that was her home at any moment. She hadn’t replied to him. Heron had found on this trip back that she wasn’t very talkative. People were constantly asking if she was alright as she was gazing out the window or locking herself in her room. After stopping at District five and speaking to the Wie siblings she didn’t quite know what there was to say to anyone else.

The siblings were more accepting of her than she had ever dreamed, and after talking to them and talking to Arbor and Aranica Heron just couldn’t find a reason to talk to the others on the train. No one else knew. They were all from the Capitol; of course they didn’t know anything. They didn’t know the pain of losing a sibling or a friend to the games. When she had talked to those four they had talked, not lingering on about the Games, not about her victory. They treated her like a person who had felt pain, and she returned the favor. They weren’t stuck up, arrogant people who kept asking her painful questions.

As accepting as Heron was she could only feel discontent while she was around people from the Capitol. She’d never truly hated anyone before, but these people were coming dangerously close to being the first. On more than one occasion Heron had been tempted to slap the person who kept asking if she was thinking about the Games as she stared tiredly out the train car window.

Of course she wasn’t thinking about the Games! That was the farthest thing from her mind on their trip to their final destination. She was thinking about Fletcher! He had watched her on television as she lost her legs, he had watched as she broke down and cried, he had watched her kill. Heron feared more than anything that he would look at her differently, that he would see her for the person she had become in the arena.

What she needed was someone who would see her as the person she was, the true person. As the boy in the mines, as the girl in the Justice Building. She needed an anchor to help her relocate her life here in District Twelve. Heron didn’t even know how it was she felt towards the boy anymore. In the arena she had convinced herself that she had fallen in love with him, but now she wasn’t sure any more. Had that just been a desperate longing to hold on to and keep her through to the end?

She heard the squeal of the breaks before she felt the slowing of the train. Heron looked up from where she sat on her bed and out the window that was opposite the District. All she could see from this few were trees and the occasional shack. She heard a rapping on her door again, this time she got up to answer it. “We’ve arrived.” The man told her. Heron simply nodded her head and walked to her dresser to grab the small bag on top that held all of her belongings. “We have.”

From what Heron had been told she would be escorted back to the new, large building that they called her home that she was still getting used to. After that she was free to do whatever it was she wanted, such as going to find Fletcher and see if he had changed at all. Fears raced through her mind as she slowly walked to the door that people were piling out of. What if he’s afraid of me? What if he can’t bear what I’ve done? What if he doesn’t like me anymore…

Heron shook her head forcefully as she took a strong step forward on her false legs. Those fears could wait; she wasn’t going to see him for about an hour anyway. Surreptitiously she checked in her bag to see if the food that she had smuggled to her room in foam containers would survive the trip. She wanted Fletch to try the strange, delicious food too at some point.

Finally, after composing herself and keeping her face free of excitement from the knowledge that she would not have to see another Capitol Gower again for a while Heron allowed herself to step out of the train and onto the platform. No one cheered, for that she was glad. The sun was shining so brightly that she was forced to shield her eyes as they adjusted to it, the wind was blowing, but it was a hot wind that threatened to scorch her bones.

But none of that mattered, since as soon as she was able to see she was met with an unexpected sight. ”Fletcher…” Heron practically whispered as she gaped at him with wide eyes. She wasn’t supposed to see him for at least an hour! What was he doing there!? Why did it matter? He was there! She felt her bag as it slipped out of her fingers and fell to the wood platform, which she would probably regret later. Tears threatened to come to her eyes, but she held them back in exchange for biting her lip.

She took a tentative step towards him and then another followed by a third that was quicker than the last. That was all that it took to close the distance between them to allow Heron to embrace him. ”Fletcher!” She said again with her arms wrapped around his neck, her ear brushing his hair. ”I kept my promise. I kept it”