Finally Facing Faces {Victory Tour, Kind of open?}

new

« Prev
1
Next »

Tsarashi 2.0
Merchant

205 POSTS
last seen Dec 31, 2012 23:55:02 GMT -5

"I've always wanted to use that spell!"

Finally Facing Faces {Victory Tour, Kind of open?} Jun 29, 2011 12:01:55 GMT -5

Post by Tsarashi 2.0 on Jun 29, 2011 12:01:55 GMT -5

The Victory Tour. Even the name of it sounded grand and inviting. The food was phenomenal, at the parties people laughed and danced, the outfits were beautiful and the gifts extravagant. Even though all of these things were going on the current Victor couldn’t help but shy away from it all. At some point, maybe in District 8, she realized that she was the only one having such a terrible time. Or at least, she felt that she was on that same low level that the families of the other Tributes were, only lower.

When she had arrived home in District 12 Heron was greeted by her parents and many other people that she knew from the District. There were cameras, lots of chatter and even more faces that she couldn’t take it all in at once. There was everything but the one thing that she had been looking forward to since the day she left. There was no Fletcher. Or at least, she didn’t see him before she was ushered off to her new home; a god-awfully large building with the ugliest furnishing which she would hope to change once she got the chance.

Nightmares haunted her at night so logically she found herself sleeping during the days. Heron had slept so much that she didn’t even know how many days had gone by. Sleep was inviting and terrifying at the same time, but it kept her from the reality and was the first stage in her readjustment back into family living. Her parents hovered over her whenever she came into consciousness and they worried at her bedside, completely relieved to have their daughter alive and safe only for her to come home and catch a fever.

Fever?

Right, Heron thought back, that was another reason why she had continued to fall in and out of consciousness for an untold amount of time. She was sick, though she continued to speculate that it was a mental illness caused by her nightmares, she wouldn’t have been surprised if it was. Nobody was allowed to see her for fear that she would only become worse, which included Fletcher. Heron had been within such a tangible distance of him for who knew how many days and yet she had yet to see him even once.

Then the next thing she knew Mima was there clicking her tongue impatiently at the state of her designer project. Having hair ripped off of your body certainly does wake you up, regardless of your state of health. Her people, whom she still didn’t know the names of, were disappointed that Heron hadn’t been working on a talent. She’d get right on that, she’d told them, between the sleeping and the nightmares she would make absolutely sure to get right on that.

Once they were on the train her staff began to slowly introduce to her an estrogen pill that, with time, would fix the hormone imbalance that had made her so masculine. Heron hoped that it wouldn’t change her too much, but if she was going to live as a woman she might as well go all out. With that in mind the tomboy actually took two looks at a frilly green dress that Mima had made her before denying it. Baby steps. Instead she chose a silk blue pantsuit that felt otherworldly with a white under blouse.

Also on the train they forced her to wear the fake legs that had been given to her and were forgotten about since she hadn’t been away from a bed in some time. It was awkward and difficult to get used to them. But she surprised everyone when she started to walk on her own around District 8. It was still wobbly at first, but once Heron was determined to do something she wouldn’t stop until it was complete. Even if that meant practicing to walk on a moving train so that she didn’t have to rely on any of these annoying people any more. Her independence was her first priority. She was sturdy by the time they got to District 6.

Stopping through all the other Districts felt like a terrible, painful chore to Heron, like she was being forced to pick up a large amount of tiny barbs but not knowing where they are, constantly being pricked until it was a dull pain. She didn’t know those Tributes, so she had nothing to say about them which made her feel bad, but at the same time she didn’t want to care about what all of these people thought about her. That way of thinking was hard to keep when there is a camera in your face. All of her smiles were fake, if she bothered to smile at all that is. She just wanted to go home and finally see that boy. Her afternoons and evenings on the train were spent daydreaming and ignoring her stylist.

That was when they made their next stop, one that she was looking forward to the least and the most at the same time. District 5, Storm’s home. He had a good sized family, that was all she knew. Throughout all of the time that her and Storm had spent together they didn’t really get into too much detail about their family lives. Heron wondered what she would see when she stepped out onto the veranda that overlooked the city that was a strange combination of factories and farmland. It wasn’t as big as 11, and it wasn’t as industrialized as 9, in fact, it seemed rather comfortable compared to what she was used to.

Nothing she had imagined in her mind could have prepared her for the sight of his family. If anything she had imagined him to have at least one brother, but no, apparently he had sisters. Several sisters. All of which looked strikingly similar to him. The oldest looked to be around her age, and briefly Heron wondered if there were any similarities between herself and that girl that Storm had seen to urge him to continue helping her. “Heron…you are going to go home and you will be back with your family.” Heron shook her head to rid it of the memory that decided to emerge at such a bad time and continued to listen to the Mayor’s speech.

“Just get it in your head, Europa!” Heron stiffened and surreptitiously peered down at the girls again. Which one of them was Europa? There was still so much that Heron wanted to know, but it choked her up thinking about it. When it was her time to talk she did so quietly, reading what was on the paper in front of her. She couldn’t force herself to look up again; the tears would have come if she looked at the girls. Storm had meant to much to her in the arena, but she was the one who took him from them. They must hate her. After the small speech she was allowed to say some personal things, she knew that, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She just stood there biting her lip.

Thankfully Heron didn’t have to stand there awkwardly for too long, the Mayor concluded the piece with handing her a bouquet of flowers, flowers that she thought were obtrusive. The flowers were cut, dead; she felt as if he was giving her corpses and their sweet fragrance was transformed into the stench of blood and sweat in her mind. The black haired girl turned around to walk back inside, but after only three steps she found herself running for the first time in a long time. Sure, everyone in the District could see her cowardice, but that was better than seeing the hot tears that were threatening to fall for the first time since she had left the arena.

Heron continued to run awkwardly, still getting used to her legs, flowers in hand. Nobody chased her; they trusted her to come back to the dining hall at the assigned time. There weren’t many peacekeepers around, not that they would punish her anyway. She despised the special treatment that they gave her. Doors flung open and she found herself outside, the sun shone brightly and she needed to block it from her eyes before adjusting. Heron continued, not caring if she was allowed outside or not, she continued past the houses until she found that she couldn’t go any further. A fence blocked her way, which she only noticed after ramming into it. A few petals fell to the ground from the flowers in her hand.

Heron took her time to catch her breath, which was made difficult with the stream of moisture falling from her clouded eyes.[/size] ”Stupid. This is so stupid!” She cried to the empty field in front of her. Slowly she felt herself sliding to her knees, the plastic of her false legs was cold through on her thighs. ”Who the hell thought this would be a good idea!?” Now that she was down Heron didn’t know if she would be able to trust herself to stand again, it was difficult enough without the choking and the tears. So she just sat there against the wooden fence that housed who knew what kind of animal, waiting for the tears to stop.

(ooc=So, I am finally back and decided to do a few Districts for the tour and I'm starting at 5. Sorry for taking so long, just know that I'm back now. Sorry that I didn't write what they said, it would have been rather generic anyway. Also I sort of wrote this forgetting about the whole 'no leg' thing so I hope no one is too angry that I sped up the therapy process a tad)

Last Edit: Jun 29, 2011 15:11:26 GMT -5 by Tsarashi 2.0

ᕙʕ•ᴥ•ʔᕗ
Retired Staff

1,911 POSTS
last seen Jun 11, 2024 10:55:54 GMT -5

I go "Grawr!" =)

Finally Facing Faces {Victory Tour, Kind of open?} Jul 1, 2011 4:36:38 GMT -5

Post by ᕙʕ•ᴥ•ʔᕗ on Jul 1, 2011 4:36:38 GMT -5

((Will be formatted and possibly edited...))

Europa could hear the words pounding away in her head. ”Don’t be rude, Europa. It’s not nice to be rude to the Victor.” “She might have killed Storm but we should still treat her with respect.” “Europa, just be nice…please?” Why would they think that Europa was going to be mean towards the Victor of this year’s Games? Of course, she might have resented the fact that she was the one who had killed her brother, but Europa knew better than to just shout at the girl; it would do nothing for her and Storm.

But on the off chance that Europa did see Heron and talk to her, she was going to keep her mouth shut. She was afraid of what would happen if she was too into the moment, if her grief got the better of her. It was no use telling the others that she was actually reasonable; they knew that she had been particularly close to Storm. Storm…now that he was gone, it was just a family of girls. Europa knew that she could go to Sundra if she ever needed to, but it wasn’t the same. Sundra’s hugs didn’t feel quite as wholesome as Storm’s, not as warm as Storm’s. She knew it must have been difficult for her older sister, but Europa was hurting inside. The only item that could console her was Storm’s bracelet, the one that he had handed to her before.

Heron had the other one, though. The other bracelet was the one he took with him to the arena, a promise that he would come back from the Games, come back to the family. It was his hope, his placeholder, his anchor to District 5…and now it was gone. Europa had watched the District 12 girl take it from her brother’s wrist, just as she had taken the District 1 girl’s ring. Europa had wondered if Storm would have wanted that to happen, if he would have preferred it resting with him when they buried his body. But it was too late to consider the “if”s; Storm’s body was resting in District 5, cold and forever gone.

The actual bracelet remained on Europa’s wrist, wrapped three times around as her wrist was smaller than Storm’s. Even though she wanted to carry his tradition of adding one bead every time his birthday passed, she knew there would be no point. The bracelet would always remain with the same number of beads, because her brother was never going to celebrate his birthday again. He was never going to add another bead, see another year, grow old and wonder what he was going to do with the long bracelet that might as well have been a necklace. The bracelet was stuck, neither moving forward nor backward.

As Europa stared at the bracelet, she could hear her family scrambling so they would make it in time for the ceremony. It was the Victor’s tour, and the Victor was finally coming to District 5. Europa wondered if the girl was hurting, if she would actually stand up in front of the whole district. It must have been hard for her to lose an ally, but this girl had killed Storm. And what was the district’s reaction going to be? Europa knew that Storm had asked Heron to kill him, but it still would have felt like a betrayal. But Storm had hit her first…right? Europa shook her head, trying to discard any memory she still had of the Games. Once Heron left the district, everything would go back the way it was. Or at least somewhat. The Wies would still be hurting, but they would be working. After all, it was all they ever did.

Being there, watching Heron…was difficult. Europa knew she had to keep her mouth shut, but at the same time, she had so many questions. Questions about the Games, anything Storm might have said…and how Heron felt. She watched the girl, scrutinized her, even, trying to figure out if Heron really was remorseful or not. For all Europa knew, Storm was just a tool for her to get home. After all, had he not helped her when she fallen into the lava lake? Had he not carried her around the arena? There was nothing Europa could see in her eyes but a hard look, one that clearly indicated retreat. But she couldn’t retreat just yet; she still had to read her note. It was clear it was written on paper, meaning there was hardly any feeling in the message. And while the girl did sound like she was ready to cry, Europa couldn’t tell if she was being heartfelt or just acting. Heron didn’t even say any of her own words.

Europa bit her lip, feeling the need to approach that girl. Approach her and demand from her. Was this how she was going to repay Storm? By standing up there and not even acknowledging him? She didn’t acknowledge the female tribute’s family, but Heron didn’t know her. She knew Storm…and she couldn’t even say anything about him. Europa looked to her side to see Io squirming. Her little sister was always pampered, babied, told that everything was going to be alright. Europa was sure that Io was sad that Storm wasn’t there anymore, but she wasn’t going to remember, not like Europa would. She then looked to her other side to see Sundra there, her new protector. When Europa was younger, she had always considered Storm and Sundra her “father” and “mother”. But now Sundra was going to have to be both. It was only when Europa recognized the difficulty Sundra must have been facing as well that she cooled down and her attention went back to where Heron had been standing.

It was over and Heron was already gone. So what did this mean? Did the family go back home and pretend that everything was okay again? No…Europa didn’t want that to happen. Especially since Heron had something Europa wanted, something Europa needed. It was going to be Storm’s present when she visited his grave next; she was sure he would appreciate it. But she had to find the Victor. Europa took off without telling her family members where she was going. She needed to find Heron, and she didn’t care if her family didn’t approve.

She asked around, hoping that there was someone who had seen Heron around. But everytime she inquired about Heron, they all shook her head and told her that she might as well go home. Europa didn’t want to go, though, not until she found that girl. Her search continued to the point that Europa was no longer in the district square. There were a few houses, one of which she recognized as her school friend’s. Her search was now an aimless wandering, looking for someone she would never find. Her desperation drove her on, though, convincing her that she would eventually find the legless girl.

And so she did. Heron was sitting against a fence, looking as if she was crying. It hit Europa that there was a possibility that Heron was sad about being there, that Storm had meant something more than just another tribute. If that was so, then every opinion that Europa had made about the girl would be thrown out the window and new perceptions would be made. She looked so…pitiful that it was hard for Europa to not feel bad for her. Did it really tear her up that much, just being in this district?

Europa approached the girl slowly, trying not to frighten her. Would Heron recognize her? Would she even be able to tell that Europa was Storm’s sister? Europa looked down at her feet, struggling to really be there. It was so hard, so painful to be across from her brother’s killer…but how difficult was it for Heron? Was it painful for a Wie to be standing there, looking at her? Europa squirmed a little more before she struggled with the next words. “Storm…Storm would have been ha—happy. That you won. I—it was…what he wanted.”

Last Edit: Jul 1, 2011 4:38:16 GMT -5 by ᕙʕ•ᴥ•ʔᕗ

^credit to Shrimp

char info yayy

Tsarashi 2.0
Merchant

205 POSTS
last seen Dec 31, 2012 23:55:02 GMT -5

"I've always wanted to use that spell!"

Finally Facing Faces {Victory Tour, Kind of open?} Jul 1, 2011 9:08:50 GMT -5

Post by Tsarashi 2.0 on Jul 1, 2011 9:08:50 GMT -5

Heron didn’t know how much time had passed since she ran into the fence, but it was long enough for her tears to evolve from a hysterical choking sob to a hiccup filled crying fit. It hurt both emotionally and physically since the hiccups racketed through her diaphragm so quickly that her stomach ached, her throat was raw and the tears were practically burning the flesh on her cheeks. Not to mention the fact that she always felt that crying was a form of weakness, it never helped anything. She hadn’t cried since she was back in the arena, and even letting a few tears go brought her back to that horrid place. The more she cried the more real the memories became thus making her cry worse, which made her want to shut herself into a little hole to hide her tears from the rest of the world. It was a pitiful cycle.

Luckily though she had been starting to calm, though not by much and she had found herself sitting with her side leaning on the obtrusive fence that had ceased her flight. Her hands were gripping at the soft fabric that covered her arms and hiding the beaded bracelet that she wore from view. Heron wanted to just give in and start fussing with it, to twist the beads nervously, but she was too afraid that if she were to touch it now it would fall apart, shatter, just like Storm did in her nightmares almost every night.

On her better nights Heron would have nightmares about the pain in her legs, or the running, or even of Ana’s death. But the worst nights, the ones where she woke up practically screaming were of Storm’s death. Storm’s bloody, gruesome death. And it kept getting worse every time she had it. He would die different ways, horrible, terrifying ways that Heron didn’t even know were possible, but there was always one thing in common; it was her fault. And sometimes he would hate her, sometimes he would thank her, but it never mattered since it scared Heron all the same, watching a corpse talk like that with blood everywhere. Even the thought of it made her arms tremble.

Thankfully though nobody was around to watch her as she fell apart. The pain of losing someone you had grown to love, the guilt of seeing the red blood on your own two hands, the sight of the family that would never see their son again, it was all too much for one person to bear. How did the other Victors do it? How did they survive the pain of living? Arbor, Aranica, Topaz, how can they go on with the memories? She needed to ask them, to talk to them, to learn their secrets. After. After Heron picked up her pieces and moved on, away from this place. After Heron stopped her pathetic tears of sorrow and grief that just wouldn’t go away.

That was when Heron heard the rustling in the grass behind her. It was probably one of her people coming to drag her back into that stuffy, uninviting building. She wouldn’t go with them; nobody could take her from her spot. As long as she was crying she wouldn’t go anywhere with anybo- All of her thoughts ceased to continue when the girl started talking. Heron froze, the wind stopped blowing, the world stopped turning, something happened when that small voice spoke out to her. Heron turned to her with wide eyes, knowing that she would see a little girl with dark hair and beautifully shaped dark eyes. What she hadn’t expected to see was a strange look in her eyes that she couldn’t quite distinguish from pain and pity.

Was that what she had become? A creature to be pitied like a broken bird on the sidewalk? If not then why did she feel exactly like that? A small broken bird that was no longer the tall, majestic, strong heron that was her namesake. Right then she wanted to hide. Heron wanted to shy away from this young girl like a coward just so that she didn’t see her in this state of being. How could she talk about how great Storm had been if his sister looked so much like him?

Heron tried to stay strong and hold the girl’s gaze, but an exceptionally painful hiccup jolted her. Quickly she looked away, covering her mouth and running nose with her hand to save herself as much dignity as she could, which probably was not a lot given the circumstances. Her eyes closed shut and a new wave of tears hit her. It hurt more to try and hold most of it all back, but she did it anyway. Now that she had an audience she didn’t want to be seen as so weak, but the tears wouldn’t stop, no matter how much she willed them to.

There was so much that she could have said right then, she could have talked about bravery and valor and what had to be done, but she knew that none of it was true. There was none of that in the arena, only kids running scared, bending to the will of the capitol by killing each other in a pointless effort to win and live an empty life. She could have talked about kindness and truth, and there was plenty of that, at least for her there had been. But no matter how hard she tried those words just didn’t want to come out. They didn’t want to be said aloud just yet. Those words were her treasure, for only her to hold on to.

”Ah-“ Heron started to say something, but she didn’t know what. She just felt like she had to say something. She needed to explain herself. Another hiccup found its way out and Heron leaned forward so that her nose was practically touching the grass. Her free hand tightened into a fist as she concentrated on words, forcing herself to speak through the unrelenting tears. ”I… I froze. On the s-stage. I couldn’t-“ Heron shook her head fiercely, willing the words to come out. ”I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I couldn’t-“ Her words were cut off when a small sob escaped her. There was no way that this was going to get easy. But somewhere in the back of her mind she hoped that it would get better with time.

Last Edit: Jul 2, 2011 18:40:55 GMT -5 by Tsarashi 2.0

shrimp
Retired Staff

1,953 POSTS
Pronouns: he/his
last seen Oct 19, 2020 18:16:41 GMT -5

Finally Facing Faces {Victory Tour, Kind of open?} Jul 2, 2011 15:20:29 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Jul 2, 2011 15:20:29 GMT -5

But I let my heart go
It's somewhere down at the bottom
But I'll get a new one
Come back for the hope that you've stolen
Way deep down, perhaps she felt pity for Heron Kimberling. After all, she lost her legs on the second day of the games, and had to watch as every single person in the arena expired before her, lungs no longer able to take in air, hearts losing the capacity to beat, brains forgetting how to think. She had to watch the expiration of a fair amount of tributes - there were the kids at the Bloodbath, and then there was Anastasia, Themba, Winona, Katie; and Storm, of course. She saw them die, she'd have nightmares forever, probably. Heron Kimberling would be forced to face her deeds every day, not only mentally, but physically. Wandering around on those pathetic plastic legs would remind her every day.

That was the only thing that enabled Sundra to go to the Tour without any chance of crying. Because she was furious at Heron Kimberling - she would rip her head off in a second if she got a chance. Because here was a girl - maybe she was a nice girl, caring girl, who killed her brother. And the Capitol did not punish her for this; rather, they rewarded her with life, with money, with gifts that all of the families of all of the tributes needed. For all of them, there was no longer someone to help with income, to help with morale - anything. For they were six feet under in wooden caskets, maggots slowly making way to their insides, eating their corpses until they were unrecognizable bone. And the only thing that made Heron Kimberling's fate different from the others was luck and bloodlust.

The Wie family was never particularly open. Rather, they acted like everything was normal, but only because that was required in the Wie household. It was precariously balanced - one wrong move and the entire lifestyle could topple and fall, arguments and sobbing dominating the home. Storm's death almost made it tip over. But with the new industry came new jobs that three of them took along with their previous ranching responsibilities. They almost never came home - Sundra was always up early to make Europa and Io breakfast and make leftovers for lunch and dinner. There was no time to be overdramatic, to be in mourning. There was no time to show disdain towards Heron Kimberling, or anyone who had wronged the Wies. Except for today. Today, Sundra was free to show her hate and scorn towards the girl. And maybe that was why she felt so fragile today. For there was an opportunity to be emotional.

But if she were to be full of rage or sadness or mourning, how would her family react? They were a tight-knit group of people, easily swayed by the others emotions. And this event would be seen by Capitolites and others in different districts - the Wies needed to look strong, to beat the odds that were stacked against them. Storm was gone, but the Wies were still the Wies - they could overcome anything, and they could overcome this. And by breaking down, the fragileness of her other family members could be affected. What if they all began to exhibit strong emotions - what would that entail for them?

So it was important to do the exact opposite - to stand there, silently watching.

And that is exactly what she did as Heron Kimberling clambered to the center of the stage. She watched her as she watched them for the first time, watched her as she stood there, refusing to say anything about the boy who had ensured her survival, the boy who had fought with her again and again and again, the boy who had helped feed her and take care of her and find them water - Storm did all of that. Storm helped Heron survive, and this was the thanks he had gotten. Buried in the cemetery without a word or two by his murderer, his ally... His friend. Yes, she was his friend, even if she killed him - he had trusted her, liked her even. And that just made the whole situation seem much more like betrayal, and less like a battle. Except Storm had attacked first, which just made it more confusing. And then the girl ran out, and there was no time to think about it anymore.

Sundra turned around as the family began to head back towards their homes. Murmurs of condolences echoed in the air, apologizing for their loss. She brushed them off - she didn't want their sympathy, nor did she need it. She was strong enough to get by with her family, without anybody else being sympathetic towards her. As long as she kept trying, kept persevering, then she and her family would get through. There was no room for emotions, no room for feelings. And then she turned around, and Europa was no longer beside her. She had simply vanished. "Europa?" she called, looking around for the girl. There was no response.

"Europa?" The calls were more frantic now - where could she be? What if someone had snatched her when she wasn't looking? What if some strange man was running off with her sister, the girl that she had to protect [because mother and father were always too caught up with Io's antics to pay any attention], the girl that was hers? Yes she was hers - she was both Storm and hers. They were the parents, and she needed to find Europa, now. Fast paced steps became faster and faster, and before long she was running, glancing left and right for her. "Europa, where are you?" She turned a corner, past a house or two, and fears were suddenly allayed... In a way.

For there was Europa, and she was talking to Heron - talking to the killer of her brother, of the one who had hugged her and told her that everybody was alright. She couldn't understand how Europa was... How she was strong enough to do this, let alone be able to find the victor, who had ran away to this isolated fence in the middle of nowhere. She had truly grown up then, for Sundra would not have talked to the victor. No, if they were alone, she would have attacked her, said hateful words, never have forgave Heron for killing off her older brother. But if Europa could do it, if Europa could put all of that aside and talk civilly, then it would be best for Sundra to do the same as well. So she walked forwards, hearing the remainder of the conversation as she approached, closing the few yards between the three of them.

“Storm…Storm would have been ha—happy. That you won. I—it was…what he wanted.”

”Ah- I… I froze. On the s-stage. I couldn’t -
I’m sorry,
I’m so, so sorry.
I couldn’t-“

She stopped walking. Rage dripped away ever so slowly as she watched the girl sob - it truly wasn't fair, what any of them had to go through, and even though she would never, ever forgive Heron Kimberling for killing Storm, the time for irrational [or slightly rational] hatred had ended a few months prior. It was time to begin the healing process - it was time to begin to let go of one of the only other people who had given a damn about her well being, who had loved her, respected her, needed her. And right now, it was time to be civil, polite and kind towards the girl who desperately needed kindness right now. So she smiled slightly, and quietly spoke.

"We know, Heron."
"I'm... I'm Sundra, and... and this is Europa."
"It's very nice to meet you."

Last Edit: Jul 2, 2011 15:22:16 GMT -5 by shrimp

ᕙʕ•ᴥ•ʔᕗ
Retired Staff

1,911 POSTS
last seen Jun 11, 2024 10:55:54 GMT -5

I go "Grawr!" =)

Finally Facing Faces {Victory Tour, Kind of open?} Jul 23, 2011 2:36:30 GMT -5

Post by ᕙʕ•ᴥ•ʔᕗ on Jul 23, 2011 2:36:30 GMT -5

She’s…apologizing. Apologies…sorry… As Europa stood there, staring at Heron, she tried to piece her thoughts together. Here was a girl who was crying, apologizing for an event that had happened only earlier today. But what was behind that “sorry”? Europa didn’t have the chance to hear Heron finish as Heron broke off mid-sentence. While she couldn’t honestly hate Heron, a part of her was still struggling to come to terms with this situation. Europa had tried to be kind, she had tried to hold her tongue, but now all she wanted was that bracelet, the bracelet still in Heron’s possession. She wanted to point, she wanted to mention it, but common courtesy was holding her back. Plus, wasn’t she supposed to comfort Heron, tell her that everything is alright? But deep in her heart, Europa didn’t have the courage to speak those words; to her, everything was still not “alright”.

The gentle voice of her sister startled her and she turned around to see Sundra close behind her. How was Sundra so calm? How did she keep her voice so cordial? Sundra introduced both of them, leaving Europa the opportunity to keep quiet. Europa looked back at Sundra, trying to figure out what she could say next before she turned back to Heron and gave her a small nod. Even if Europa wasn’t saying anything, her eyes lingered over the bracelet that was around Heron’s wrist. Another wave of hurt washed over her as she walked back towards Sundra and wrapped her small arms around her older sister. Was it for protection? Or was it for strength?

She had said what she needed to say but not done what she needed to do. Her small, dark eyes continued to move around from Heron, to the ground, to Sundra, and back to Heron. It’s not polite. I shouldn’t say anything. If I do, I might hurt more…or insult her. And if that happened, Sundra wouldn’t be happy with me. Europa tried to convince herself to stand down, that it was not worth inquiring about it. But I need it. For Storm. Storm would have wanted it, wouldn’t he? That’s why he took it with him. He would have wanted it back. She kept her arms tight around her older sister, mentally begging Sundra to help save her. When it was clear Europa would have to be the one to say the next thing, she squirmed a bit.

“Thank you…for coming here. F—for talking to us. It must be…hard, uh…difficult for you to be here.” Europa wanted to say more, but she could already hear herself rambling. Once she had said her fill, she retreated behind Sundra, keeping her arms looped around.

Finally, she let go her hand as her right arm tugged on Sundra’s shirt, hoping to send the message to her sister that she had something she wanted to say. On her tiptoes, she leaned up and forward to reach her sister’s ear and cupped her hand. “She has the bracelet,” Europa whispered softly. “She still has Storm’s bracelet.” As soon as she had relayed what she wanted to say, Europa went back to cowering behind her sister, her eyes curiously peeking out every now and then. If she was able to look at herself, she would have noticed that she was acting very much like Io whenever her younger sister was caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to do.

It felt like such a long time since she was last able to act so little, so small. It had only been several months since Europa learned she had to grow up and realize that she needed to help the family too. And all those months of getting over the fact that Storm was dead and helping the family around the farm that they still held while the elder three Wies went to work had hardened the now-fourteen-year-old girl. When her birthday had passed, Europa had promised herself that being one year older was going to change her, that it meant that she could be a grown-up. But there were still nights when she would cry, when she felt like she was stabbed repeatedly in the heart. Losing Storm was no different than losing a parent.

But her shrinking behind Sundra was her transgressing into shyness rather than sadness. It was as if she was losing Storm’s influence bit by bit the longer she stood there. Storm, the fun-loving, outgoing one in the family, had been the one who taught Europa to express herself and encouraged her to help him try to get Sundra more outgoing as well. And now Sundra was embracing the idea that she was now the eldest of the Wie children and Europa was shrinking back. The world really could not have changed so much that they would change as well, but it was like everything that happened in the arena could never be forgotten, not while the Victor was still in their presence. Where was Storm’s strength when Europa needed it the most? Wasn’t that the reason why Europa wore Storm’s bracelet around her wrist. It used to be his reminder; now it was hers.

After a long period of silence, Europa cleared her throat. Storm was right there, holding on to her shoulder, telling her it was okay. His eyes were twinkling like they often did after a good joke. At least that’s what Europa was trying to convince herself. Make me believe he never left. “Did…did Storm…say anything? To you?” Her question might have been directed towards the Victor still sitting there, but her eyes were looking in every other direction. A touchy subject, one that still made everyone cry every now and then, but Storm was the one thing—person—that connected them all.