~Drumming Noise~ [Lorraine]

The constant crashing of the waves and the high pitched calls of the seagulls was the most soothing lullaby that Lorraine could ask for. Her thin hands dug into the warm sand beneath her, finding comfort in this particular layer of earth. It was more windy today than most, which blew out most people from entering the beach. The redhead remained as one of the few people here sprawled along the sand, which she preferred. Crowds aren't exactly an ideal for her. The winter wind chilled the bones that were blanketed in Lorraine's flesh, but the Sun's heat embraced her in a warm hug. The pianist laid on her back with her wide emerald eyes staring up at the sky, watching it change from a deep blue in the day, a crimson red at sunset, to a pitch black in the night. As the hours grew longer and longer, and as the night began to slowly creep in, the sixteen year old found the beach to be deserted - with the exception of herself. Casting one more longing glance at the ever changing sea, she abandoned the area herself.

Lorraine walked the lonely pavements with her bare arms folded across her chest - an attempt to keep warm against the chill of the night. Her teeth chattered in her mouth like a prisoner clacking a cup against it's steel bars. Still, she walked slowly, unexcited to arrive home.

Home.

What did that even mean anymore?

Home should be a place of belonging and happiness, a fort against the evils that reality controls. Lorraine thought of a time when her home could truly be described as this, or, at the very least, something along those lines. Even without her mother in the picture, life was still blissful with Tim and Rachel. When did things begin to go wrong?

When Rachel died.

Lorraine shuddered at this involuntary thought, her conscious giving her more chills than the weather. Lorraine yearned for the memories of Rachel's death to swim away - just like how she did that day when the vigorous waves and dark storm tore her away from her own sister.

Her shoulders heaved a bit as she gave a deep sigh. And now, she thought sorrowfully, My dad is sick, and he won't even let me take him to a doctor.

This couldn't have been more true. When it came to illness, Tim was simply not a walk in the park. He would deny any forms of a disease, which only caused his daughter to worry for him all the more. Often, Lorraine would stare at her father's sickly frame and hollow cheek bones, which used to be filled with color and life.

Lorraine hugged herself tighter at the thought of having to face a life of solitude and misery without the presence of her father. How could I bear it? She asked herself, before stiffly turning her thoughts away from this melancholy subject. Now was not the time to get caught up in her own sorrow, not now while in public. Even though there was only one girl who sat on a bench near where Lorraine walked, she still couldn't allow herself to break. Especially if she would fall apart at something that has yet to happen.

Yet.

Lorraine paid no attention to her surroundings, she was already submersed into her own thoughts. The few things she took to notice were the almost inaudible thuds her delicate feet made as they daintily walked down the path, and the calling of the gulls in the distance. Do they ever shut up? She thought to herself, a smile lightening her countenance and she let a faint giggle slip through her lips.

At the same moment, another laugh echoed through the empty streets, and Lorraine's body instinctively froze. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up as she scanned the area for any signs of an intruder. The laugh didn't exactly sound threatening - in fact, far from it. But one in Panem could not allow them self to be too trusting. She clenched her fists - although she may not be a Career, the redhead beauty knew how to defend herself.

Her head turned to the direction of where the sound originated, only to lock eyes with the girl who sat alone on the bench. Lorraine's shoulders relaxed a bit at the sight, comforted with knowing she wouldn't have to face danger tonight.

The stranger's hazel eyes widened. As she wrapped her arms around her stomach, she hastily stood to leave, her blonde hair flowing behind her. The pianist cocked her head in confusion, wondering why the girl would make such a sudden departure. I always seem to scare off others, she thought silently, wondering if she seemed like a threat to anyone.

As Lorraine continued to walk down the pavement, her ears detected the sound of a thump, followed by an, "Ow."

Lorraine's head whipped back to the same direction, only to find that the young lady had fallen to the ground. Not sure if her help was wanted because of the stranger's frightened countenance, Lorraine was hesitant to aid her. But, her mind overcame matter, and she closed the distance between them in a few quick strides. "Do you need some help, there?"

The young girl craned her head up to get a view of the redhead, her hazel eyes dazed as if in confusion. Lorraine had to bite back a smile as she lifted the light stranger off the ground - the blonde’s innocence reminded the pianist of Rachel.

Even with the lack of light, Lorraine observed the girl’s appearance clearly. They were probably of the same age, and maybe even attended the same school. The young lady had luminous blonde hair, whitened skin, symmetrical feautures, and a tall and lanky frame. The most distinctive aspect was the stranger’s eyes, beautiful with color ranges of hazel and flecks of green, but … empty. Almost like traveling on a wide path that never ends, never being able to reach the desired destination. The young muscian saw lost hope in these set of eyes, she detected sadness and despair. So, what’s your tale of woe? thought Lorraine bitterly to herself, thinking of her own story.

The blonde stranger patted the dust out of her dress before settling her eyes on Lorraine. Lorraine did her best to provide a friendly expression as the girl thanked her for the simple gesture.

“Its no problem,” Lorraine replied brightly, the somber tone in her voice diminshing into a warm hearted beat.

”I’m Lenoura,” the stranger introduced, before dropping her head and twiddling her slender fingers in her lap. As she did this, Lorraine was reminded of the iconic image of her younger sister nervously playing with her hands whenever she felt she was stuck in a sticky situation. Involuntarily and without meaning to, the redhead suddenly gained an over protective feeling for this girl she had barely met, an instinct that came almost as a second nature to Lorraine. Protecting and caring for others makes the pianist feel important, in contrast of being protected and cared for. This would probably explain Lorraine’s constant efforts of sacrificing her own time for her father. Not to mention, this tiny ambition of sheltering and defending others add a lively gleam to her usually vacant eyes - a spark of light in the midst of smoke and ashes.

Lenoura’s voice arubptly ended these thoughts.

“That usually happens a lot.” She said. ”The tripping.”

Lorraine couldn’t help but ring out a laugh at the simple but random statement. Lenoura’s reddened cheeks and nervous fiddling told the sixteen year old that she was embarrassed, and the laughing probably only encouraged this feeling. Lorraine let her soft laugh fade into silence before adding, “Falling is inevitable, it happens to everyone at least once.” Of course, this phrase had two meanings - the obvious one being physical, and the less obvious being emotional. As for the melancholy pianist, she had felt both.

The redhead offered a pearly smile to the blonde girl and herself in order to avoid lamenting her own personal falls. She extended her thin hand to Lenoura. “I’m Lorraine.”

"Nice to meet you." The words seemed strangled out of the blonde beauty's petite throat, as if she struggled on what to say. Lorraine detected the anxiety in her voice, and understood the nervousness she must've felt. She shared this characteristic, as well, but it only glared it's brightest during the worst of situations. Still, the smile that dawned upon Lenoura's face shone like the rising Sun over the Pacific Ocean, and it overshadowed this poor social skill. "I'm sure it's really none of my business to ask you this, She continued. "But why are you out at a time like this?"

The sixteen year old bit her lower lip after the question was asked, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Would it be too soon to give such a personal response? "My sister," wouldn't really explain much, and giving the whole back story would just cry out attention seeker! even if Lorraine hadn't meant it in that particular way. But, to create a blunt lie to a person who she'd hardly meant? That's just not acceptable. Even if it did no harm to anyone.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want. We're all entitled to our privacy." Lenoura quickly added, probably sensing the tension that had suddenly grew in Lorraine's expression.

Lorraine dropped her crossed arms and lightly smiled, just to reassure her newly found companion to not stress over the question. The pianist didn't want the girl to feel as if she struck a chord within Lorraine even if she had. Plus, it'd only add on to Lenoura's anxiety, and the last thing that the redhead would want is for her friend to feel uneasy. What she asked was a simple request, so how could Lorraine deny it?

"I usually stay out at the beach until this time." Came the simple answer. She shrugged and slightly giggled. "I know, it's a bit late. But, I can't help myself. It's like the ocean calls out to me."

This bit of the puzzle, at least, told the truth. But, it didn't state how the ocean was more of a negative connotation than a positive one (unlike most who strive in District Four). It didn't tell how the way the "ocean called out to her" was through Rachel's screams that never separated from her since that savage day. It didn't say how even with the years flying by after Rachel's death, Lorraine still feels as if she's still out there, floating about the sea, waiting to be saved.

No, She begged her mind instantly. Not now, please.

The redhead tucked a strand of her curly hair behind one ear and stared at the cemented pavement. She clutched her middle section of her torso, violently scratching at her skin to keep herself distracted with physical pain instead of emotional. Her eyes slowly ascended back to Lenoura's gaze, and the pianist felt the smile on her face was now more strained instead of genuine.

For some reason, Lorraine felt it was okay to be this way around the girl she'd just met. It's something they shared in common, and, although the blonde beauty hadn't revealed much in their short time together, the sixteen year had already made the conclusion that something bad happened to this girl when she first beheld the empty set of eyes. Something happened to Lenoura, something tragic and permanent. She felt it in her atmosphere, saw it in the way she sullenly carried herself. This "something" that happened was probably an element in why she sat at this lonely bench in the early hours of the dark night.

"But, what about you? What brings you here?"

The question seemed to conjure a nightmare within her friend, and Lorraine felt her stomach take a drop as she watched the blonde's face twist into a pained expression. The question was simple enough, in fact, just the same thing that Lenoura had asked only mere seconds ago. It was only slightly reworded, but other than that, Lorraine would never think that her question contained sharp edges that scraped at the blonde.

Lenoura held her midsection as she spoke, as if to keep herself from falling apart. Obviously, it wasn't working. She turned her face away as if to shield the redhead from viewing her fallen countenance. She inhaled sharply before adding, "It was the last thing my mother touched here before she passed. The bench I mean."

So, her tale of woe was revealed, and suddenly Lorraine felt an unseen connection bind the two girls together. Tragedy tied them to one another, and the pianist felt the urge to collect the girl before her into her arms. I know how it feels like, She thought to herself as she helplessly watched the blonde break down before her. I know how it feels to sink in your own sorrows. You're not alone.

Lorraine desired to tell this to her friend, but as Lenoura hastily wiped her tears away and tried to convince Lorraine and herself that she was okay, the red head figured it'd only be braver to overlook the tears when Lenoura was trying so hard to do so herself.

The musician's eyes glistened sadly as she viewed the girl before her. She imagined the moments Lenoura must've experienced - moments where she couldn't help but torment herself at the thought of her mother's death. She visualized how many tears were shed from those sad set of hazel eyes. She thought of the troubles she must've gone through to bring herself to where she is today. After all, Lorraine goes went through all of them, too.

At least you have a solid memory to hold on to, she thought as she folded her arms over her chest, again. The sea wouldn't stop for me.

As Lorraine patiently waited for the blonde to recollect herself, she felt that she had to say some words of comfort. "I don't have a mother, either." She said, figuring that this characteristic they shared in common could help Lenoura not feel so alone. The redhead sighed and continued, "She ran away from us, God knows why." This last bit was bitter, the sixteen year old felt nothing but resentment towards the woman who abandoned her. Because of her, Lorraine had to learn how to fend for herself when she was only a child. Because of her, Rachel grew up without a mom. If she ever reappeared back into the picture again, Lorraine would never allow herself to forgive her. "But, your experience is obviously a different experience than mine." The sixteen year old hesitantly added. She knew that this simple tale was nothing compared to Lenoura's horror story, and bringing up Rachel probably would've been a better comparison. But, bringing up her sister was something she just couldn't do as of right now. She could only hope that the loss of their mother figures in their lives would help soothe Lenoura's sorrows.

Reading the blonde's facial expression afterwards was a difficult task. Millions of emotions ran across her face, and they all seemed to fly by in an instant. Lorraine detected sorrow, anger, understanding, gratefulness. The red head waited for something, anything - a nod of the head, a play of the hands. Some sign of life. Never had Lorraine let in someone so foreign and unfamiliar (or anyone, in fact) to stand in the exposure of her personal life. Her life is like an open wound - raw and drawn to infection. People discovering of her history, or, even worst, becoming a part of it only added on to the deep gash. Was it right of Lorraine to reveal this side of her - to someone she hadn't even known for thirty minutes? She yearned for her friend to speak, her silence only churned the pianist's stomach.

"Yes it might be different," She finally said, setting the sixteen year old to ease. The revelation was not such a loss after all, she thought. "But the pain is the same. Thank you."

Lenoura took the pianist's dainty hands in her own, pressing it gently. The beauty knew what she meant by this instantly, the hazel eyed girl thanked her for making her feel as if she wasn't so alone in this world, after all.

The taller of the two retrieved her hand back to her side, holding herself together, again. This time, it seemed to be more on account of the weather instead of misery. Still, she continued the story of her mother.

Her mother died during the birth of her younger brother, Dewey. Despite the loss, she continued to care for her father and brother, probably taking on the role her mother would've if she was still here, today.

The struggle to not collapse again was evident in Lenoura's voice. Lorraine immediately gained respect for her new friend - keeping yourself from falling apart after a tragedy at so young an age is brave, but standing strong and keeping it together for the rest of your family is noble.

"Would you like to come with me home?" Lenoura asked, her voice gently trembling. The pianist couldn't exactly tell if it was because of recalling the dark events, or because she couldn't stand the cold. Lorraine assumed it to be both. "It's late and I'm sure we'd be more comfortable inside."

The red headed girl rubbed her arms to spark some warmth - the attempt was fruitless. She couldn't help but agree with Lenoura, being inside a warm house sounded like the most inviting thing she'd heard all night. But, her father would need her. She imagined the growling of his stomach, and him sitting opposite of the window, a book in hand. His bony pictures would lightly trace the keys of the piano, but when he catches sight of her arrival, he'd open the door and welcome her home wholeheartedly. Dinner would be made, the two would eat, and then a night's rest would ensue.

Sad how life has become a routine that I can predict every little bit. She thought to herself.

"If you have other plans then it's completely fine. I can't assume that you weren't on your way somewhere before you watched me fall like the klutz that I am." Lenoura continued.

The red head laughed at the last comment, her giggle lightening the mood. Her friend's face was full of anticipation for her reply, and Lorraine bit back her lip in thought. This girl was obviously in a time of hopeless despair, and at the mere thought of leaving her to fend for herself scared Lorraine. How much more of wreck would she turn into? Plus, maybe the story of Rachel would help comfort Lenoura a bit more.

The invitation is tempting, She carried on. But, Tim needs me.

It was true. If she didn't return home soon, he'd probably become too hungry and try cooking himself - only to burn the house down.

"I'm afraid my dad needs my presence as of right now," She apologized, regret in her eyes. "But you're more than welcome to join us. In fact, we'd actually prefer your company."

The presence of Lenoura would be a healthy change for both Lorraine and her father. Maybe, maybe, tonight would break the chain of their everyday routine.

OOC: I'm so lame. I replied within the same day...

Lorraine's house sat on the side of a large hill, one of the few homes that dotted this side of Four. Although the house may not be as luxurious or stunning as others, the fact that it had been in the Mercier's family for generations kept the enchanting atmosphere close. The walk was a long and brutally cold one, but the view kept the pair's eyes transfixed. Two moons hung before them - one in the sky, and the other gleaming in the water. The sea was gentle tonight, and the sound of the water lapping against the side of the hill was a comforting one - a sound that never failed to remind Lorraine of home. The beach was easily in view here (although not quite visible with the current lack of light). But, when the Sun hovered in the sky, people flooded the sanded spot - the smell of sunscreen lotion and salt water thick in the air.

The Mercier's porch light dimly lit the house. The two story home was made of white wooden planks, with the exception of the dark green shutters that framed each window. A stair case on the left side led to the balcony on the second floor - often a place Lorraine would go to if she needed a spot to find solace in. The small but cozy porch welcomed guests, with a homey rocking chair sitting still on the edge. For a fisherman and the fisherman's daughter, the residence was admirable. The square windows were all covered with a thin, sheer curtain from the inside, except for the one window in the front. Inside this open window, Tim sat parallel to it with his eyes averted towards the book he held before him, the lamp next to him encasing a warm glow around his body.

The red head approached the white door, before gently tapping at the window to catch Tim's eye. He looked up, a smile finding it's way to his face when he discovered his daughter's presence, not noticing the stranger behind her.

He opened the door in a quick and swift move. "So, the princess returns home to cook the king his dinner?" Tim said in a jokingly manner as the door swung open.

Lorraine laughed gently, before retorting, "More like the slave returns." Then, taking Lenoura's hand in hers, she introduced, "Lenoura, this is my dad. Dad, this is Lenoura. Is it alright if she stays over for a bit?"

Noticing Lenoura for the first time, Tim glanced at her with a surprised expression, before it quickly melted away into a welcoming countenance. "It'll be a pleasure. Call me Tim, Lenoura." He extended his frail hand to the new guest. The older man stood with an air of wisdom around him, faltered by the impression of sickness. His wiry glasses were slightly pulled over to the tip of his nose, revealing the same green eyes he shared with his daughter. Tim had a dirty blonde hair with thin streaks of grey running through the sides, a sense of experience surrounding him.

The inside of the house had just as much charm and charisma as it's inmates. Bookshelves lined the walls, all of the books sharing a worn out spine. A large couch sat in front of the lit fire place, with a tattered white rug laid to the floor before it. The most eye catching item, however, would be the piano next to the window. It's wood was a dark ebony color, and it's keys as white as pearls. It didn't take up much space (it was only an upright piano), but the sound it could create is bewitching. On it's surface, a few frames of picture were propped up. Most of Lorraine and her father at a younger time - but a small addition was added to the family. Another girl, younger than Lorraine. She had the same bright red hair, but her rich brown eyes and splash of freckles created a distinction between the two.

The sixteen year old dropped her belongings on the couch, leading her friend to the kitchen. As her friend took a seat at the round, wooden dining table, Lorraine opened and close cupboards while collecting pans, plates, and cups. "What would you like to eat?"