Memories Unleashed[Cici]

Freya Hanig

Freya frowned, her arms folded as she stood planted, near the entrance to the arena. "Freya, come on, you'll love it. This arena is actually quite beautiful," her mother said, her eyes pleading. Freya glared back at her, refusing to move. She wasn't giving in: not now, not ever. She hated her parents whole-heartedly. She hated everything the Capitol believed in. She saw through it all, as though there was merely a window between truth and lies.

Everyday, Freya woke up feeling like she was on the wrong side of that window: like she was stuck in a world full of lies, while all she sought was truth. She wanted to escape through the window so badly, out to the other side, but who could she kid? The window was obviously locked. “No, I don’t want to,” Faye replied, her glare moving from her mother to her father, and then back again. Her parents knew there was something wrong with her. They worried about her differences. “You’re acting like a five-year old, Frey. Now, let’s go.” Her mother was getting impatient, trying to get Freya to follow. Freya still wouldn’t move. The thought of entering the arena, reliving what had already been shown on TV countless times, was sickening. People actually had picnics and get-togethers here! They acted like it was all fun and games! But no, it was horrifying and haunting. These were kids that were Freya’s age, who had been forced to kill each other to the death. Freya knew she should consider herself lucky, but luck was the last thing on her mind when she watched these kids kill each other. Finally, Freya let her parents drag her in with them, though she was still keen on not giving in.

Freya knew how afraid her parents were. They weren’t necessarily concerned all of the time, although they were definitely frightened. They were frightened of what their daughter’s thoughts and beliefs could turn into; they were frightened of whom Freya would become; and they were frightened of how that could affect their status as a family. They knew Freya was outspoken and persistent. Her stubborn attitude was nothing new. Though, they did their best to hide it. Freya knew her parents had so many suspicions about her. They probably thought she would end up in prison or something of the sort; they didn’t want to involve themselves in that. So, her parents had to try their best to make their daughter a bit more…normal.

Was this supposed to make her more normal, Freya thought? Visiting past arenas? Because she was pretty sure this would only give her more drive to fight against the unruliness of it all. Freya sighed as she followed her parents into the arena. Of course, just to resurrect the old traditions that the tributes went through, guests were allowed to enter the arena on the metal plates that each tribute stood on before the games. Freya followed her parents up. The moment she was lifted up fully, she felt the wind whip her hair; she wondered how nerve-wrecking it was for the tributes. She wondered which tribute had stood on this particular metal plate.

Freya sighed and stepped off, keeping her head down. She didn’t care to look at the cornucopia, or the trees in the distance, or anything for that matter. She folded her arms, letting her brown curls fall to the left side of her head, as the wind pushed her slightly. She saw a Capitol couple in the distance, and then a few more Capitol citizens across from them. A few of them were laughing, the couple was holding hands, and everyone was acting as though they were oh-so-happy. Freya gritted her teeth, irritation filling her insides. Images of these games filled her head: tributes dying, killing, reaching insanity. It hurt her head, thinking about it. She could see how wrong it was, yet no one else seemed to. Freya spent days and days trying to tell people, trying to promote the fact that it was wrong, yet no one seemed to listen. She remembered the many talks she was forced to have with a few visiting peacekeepers. She hadn’t even known there were peacekeepers in the Capitol. But apparently, one of them had heard about her trouble-making instincts, and had a nice, little-girl, sweet talk with her about it. Visiting peacekeepers were never ever harsh on Capitol citizens. Never. Freya knew they couldn’t stop her from doing what she wanted, and from marketing what she believed; nothing and no one could.

Freya took a deep breath, as she continued to follow her parents. They were talking about the arena, commenting on it as they passed through. “I’m...I’m going to go look around a bit,” she said to them, trying to find a way out of it all. “Alright,” her father said nonchalantly. With that, Freya rushed back in the direction she had just come from. She neared the Cornucopia, wondering how people were supposed to leave this place anyways…back down the metal plates? Side entrances? Something?

Freya, having nothing better to do, began letting her irritation out, muttering under her breath. “This is sick. What do my parents think they’re doing? What does anyone think they’re doing?” Freya’s memory flittered back to the old basement full of books, of full truth. She raised her voice, wanting someone to hear her. “You people have no idea!” She looked around, her face swelling with redness. She hated the feeling: feeling like she was surrounded by ignorance, by people who just didn’t see. She started muttering under her breath again, trying to get her anger out before she exploded on her parents and the rest of the world. She suddenly bumped into a young man by accident, and she quickly looked up. “Watch it,” she said instinctively, but once it came out of her mouth, she realized how rude it sounded. Besides, she had been the one to bump into him. “Um, sorry,” she said. “That was a bit rude of me.”

OOC: Sorry for some of the Freya-ramble. xP I still have to find my grasp on her a bit...

Freya Hanig

Freya watched the man skeptically. Why was he asking if she was okay? Who was he to ask that? Of course she wasn't okay! She was visiting the death place of twenty-three innocent kids! How could anyone be okay? Though, as Freya thought about it, she was upset for a different reason.

She was okay. That was the problem.
She probably couldn't even imagine what these tributes had gone through; they probably went through more than even she could comprehend. That was the issue here: not the fact that her life was to any necessity, bad, but the fact that her life was fine, while so many others suffered. The fact that she could do almost nothing about it, upset her even more. She wished she were older, with more authority. If only her voice was heard, if only she wasn’t so ignored, if only people weren’t so blind, so ignorant; then maybe she wouldn’t be so frustrated all the time. She wished so desperately that she had some sort of power. She absolutely hated being fifteen: it was an age where no one would listen, where everyone thought your every move was just an after-effect of teenage hormones.

Freya wondered who this man really was. She scanned him up and down, trying to read his expression. Was he one of those selfish Capitol people that Freya saw every day? Or was he different? Freya immediately assumed he was one of the extravagant careless Capitol citizens that killed children for fun. He had the youthful look to him, and his bright red hair only added to the extravagant effect.

Freya wondered how she should answer his question: she had the urge to shout back at him sharply, make some strong-worded retort. She had always been the loud-mouth. Though, what if he was a decent person? He didn’t deserve her attitude if he was. She gave him a crooked smile, with one hand on her hip. He was looking at his feet, as though he was ashamed of something he had said. What did he have to be ashamed of? Freya thought. She finally decided to speak up and answer his question. She wasn’t ready to be all friendly with him, for she was rarely friendly with many Capitol citizens. She forced herself to get to know people before she trusted them, or even showed anything less than hostility towards them. “What’s it to you if I’m okay or not?” She said, narrowing her eyes. This young man was older than her, and she knew it, though she couldn’t care less. In her eyes, she had more maturity than many of these Capitol citizens. Many of them barely understood what they were doing half the time.

Freya put her hand down from her hip, calming her gaze a bit. She started to regret what she said; she was making poorly-based assumptions. She knew she went a little overboard sometimes. She knew that all in all, she was quite a bit too arrogant, a bit too prejudiced, and a bit too critical of those around her. Sometimes she couldn’t help it. She watched the young man, waiting for his response.

OOC: No worries. (:

Freya Hanig

Kormiko was the young man’s name. He seemed like he had so much more to say than merely his name. Freya waited impatiently, just wanting to hear him out. Though, the words didn’t come. Instead, Kormiko said, “Maybe our words aren’t so safe.” Freya felt her heated temper again. Of course their words weren’t safe! Who cared if they were? Was this man really letting the Capitol hold him back? Did he really want to keep his thoughts a secret? Freya sighed, suddenly feeling her anger turning on again. He was a coward, she thought. This man was purely, a coward. He was too afraid to act upon his thoughts, so he hid his views as though they deserved to be held secret. Freya considered secrets immature. Why live your life in a secret, where no one can touch your thoughts? It was a horrible idea, Freya thought. If anything, she would never adhere to it.

She was too honest for secrets.

Freya wondered what to do next: was she supposed to listen to Kormiko, and keep her words to herself, or was she supposed to do what she always did: come out as completely honest? Freya had been completely honest with the world for the last fifteen years. Yes, it had consequences and yes, she did end up in a lot of trouble, but she was still alive, wasn’t she? Honesty was the only thing she had left, and she wasn’t going to give it up now. She didn’t care if the entire world knew she hated the Capitol. In fact, that’s what she wanted. She was only honest about her feelings because she wanted to change how the world worked; and if this man didn’t want to help her, so be it.

But didn’t he understand? People couldn’t just hold secrets like that and hold sympathy for the victim when no one is looking. If he felt any real sympathy, wouldn’t he seek to change it? How would holding in your feeling help? The only way to change anything is through honesty and perseverance!

Freya suddenly felt indisputably angry again. She wasn’t going to let Kormiko tell her that her words weren’t safe! She didn’t want to be safe; she wanted to live her life on the edge and take the risky path, if it meant she was fighting for what she believed.

“You’re just like the rest of them!” She said. “You feel like it is all wrong, yet you don’t do anything to change it!” She took a few steps back and kept shouting. “I don’t care if people can hear me right now! I don’t care if I’m being stalked day and night! I don’t care what anyone thinks! This is me and this is what I believe! I’m not going to hide it! The Capitol is shallow and cruel and ridiculous! So if you think my words are dangerous to your reputation, you’d better leave now.” She folded her arms, out of breath. She didn’t even care to look around and see if others had heard her ranting; she was too stubborn to turn her head. She wanted to escape this place and run away. There was nothing she could do here, not anymore. She could do little change, but chances were, she would never be able to change the outcome of anything, if she was so far from where it all took place.

Run towards the action: that’s what she wanted to do. She knew it was a hopeless wish though. Freya looked back at Kormiko, waiting for his response.

OOC: Yep, I'm rooting for 'im. Oh, and no worries about the templates thing. (: And sorrry, my post isn't very good...bleh.

"You're crazy..."

Oh yes, Freya knew she was crazy. She definitely knew she was crazy, wild beyond repair. But there was nothing stopping her at this point. Her wild nature would only grow; never would she give it a rest. Never would she abandon her beliefs, her life, herself. This was who she was, and no matter how much hurt she had to go through to get to her goal, she wouldn't leave it behind, she wouldn't stop, she wouldn't give up.

Freya was a fighter.

She stared at Kormiko, trying to figure him out. She could see wheels turning in his head, as though he was actually considering the idea...was he really accepting her own insanity? Listening to her words? He really thought she had some sort of sense, some point? Freya raised her eyebrows in surprise. She had expected him to leave in cowardice, or maybe push her out of the way at the very least, but no, he was actually listening...actually considering.

Was Freya underestimating Kormiko? Did he have more strength than she thought? She realized, her words had been a bit harsh. It was true, she couldn't just force people to drop whatever they're doing and speak out. Maybe Kormiko had a life here in the Capitol; maybe he was happy. Maybe he had a family that he cared about, a family that he didn't want to put in danger. Maybe that had been the reason he had tried to stop her from shouting out, from speaking so loud, and from making her thoughts known. Freya felt a few fragments of regret at the edge of her soul. She knew it would be best to just leave Kormiko now, run away, take a risk, and try to do this on her own. Kormiko obviously had a life here, with things he still cared about, and there was no way Freya could take that away from him. He deserved it, at the very least. If only everyone deserved what Kormiko had, what Freya had, what the Capitol had.

But Freya had her mind set on running away, not out of fear of her own problems, not out of cowardice, but out of bravery and courage. She wasn't running away from her problems; she was about to run straight towards them. She had to admit: there was nothing she could do in the Capitol, not if she wanted to help people in the districts, not if she wanted to stop watching those games that occurred on live television. Capitolites didn't listen to her. But maybe District citizens would...if she helped them, if she somehow found a way to start rebelling with them, maybe there was a chance.

Oh, the thoughts in Freya's head were so extravagant, so vast and full of life. They seemed so impossible, yet Freya couldn't push them away. She wanted them to be true, by all means; she wanted all of her wishes, her dreams, her goals, to be possible. Impossible? No, that word wasn't in Freya's dictionary. Impossible was only a word to describe the things that people feared, the things people feared to admit they feared. Freya wouldn't let fear get in her way: not now, not ever.

Freya looked back at Kormiko, trying to imagine his life, trying to imagine him being happy, with a family at his side. She had to stop pleading for his help. So what if he thought it was all wrong? That didn't mean he would drop everything and come run away with Freya? Did it? Who was she kidding? Freya knew she had to let this man go...before it was too late, before she pulled him in, convinced him that he should come with her, risk everything. She couldn't let him risk that much, not for this. Even if she knew she could do it, that didn't mean she had to force everyone else to too.

Now that she thought about it, maybe it would be better to just stay here anyways. Maybe there were people that could be convinced, souls that weren't completely corrupted. There was still a possible chance in the future to run away; she didn't have to make that decision now, did she? She was still young. She didn't want to wait though; she wanted to take action. For the next few moments, Freya felt extremely conflicted. She could leave and risk everything, including her life; although if she did end up dying out there in the real world, it would be for a good cause.

But here...if she stayed here, what if she never left? What if she never had her chance again, her motivation? What if she let her beliefs fall, like raindrops from the sky, emptying out the fullfilling feeling that she still had? What if, in the future, she lost her touch, and slowly let all her determination, all of her will, fade away? It was hard for even Freya to imagine. She looked back at Kormiko, suddenly at a loss, suddenly at a weak moment in time. Freya didn't have too many weak moments; usually she came out as strong, driven, and stubborn. Weakness had always been a meaningless word to her, but right now...she felt as though she knew the meaning much too well.

"I'm....I'm sorry," Freya said quickly, almost ashamed of apologizing. She couldn't remember the last time she had actually apologized to someone; so why was she now? Was it some sort of respect that she owed Kormiko? Because she knew, feeling sorry was not instinct to her. "I shouldn't be...I mean, stay here. Maybe you're right; I don't know what I'm thinking. Running away...I don't know where that would get me. I...I just...can't do this anymore." Though, maybe there were more opportunities in the Capitol than she could see; maybe there was something she could still do here, without leaving. Or maybe not. Freya blinked, feeling suddenly dizzy from her incessant thoughts. She closed her eyes, suddenly feeling a headache coming on. She was too young for this, for thinking like this, and she knew it in that moment. She needed to stop thinking; she needed to go back to acting on instinct. It worked well enough, didn't it? It was easier, more efficient, as much pain as it brought her....

Freya reconsidered her own words. She was right....she couldn't do this anymore.

But, honestly, what did that mean?

OOC: Lol, don't worry about it. I felt the same way last post....xD