A Sun Came [TattleTale]

.// cassandra freya larker

The last class was full of doodles and scribbles. Well, not really. The complete opposite, in fact. The lecture was spoken in a normal manner, not endearing enough to catch the attention of the minds of the students who were idly staring unto thin air, and not possibly boring enough to drive them into the verge of a coma-induced sleep, but only to a extent where the words went inside an ear and passed through the other. In Cassandra's case, the words of the teacher were blocked by the scribbles that made their home on the was-blank piece of paper that she tore from the back part of her History of Panem notebook. She wasn't a bad student, and her average grades were proof. But there were times when she let her love ― and talent ― for the arts overcome her academic studies.

And what was the point, anyway? There were no mathematicians nor doctors in District Twelve. The farthest you ever got if you happen to be skilled in mathematics or science was behind a counter counting change to watch over your store or own an apothecary, which most citizens can't afford. Anyone who wanted to become a mine architect or share their knowledge of the minerals found a hundred feet below would end up as a coal miner, because education in not in its finest case here in District Twelve. But Cassandra has different plans for herself. She wouldn't become a coal miner, because her heart was set for something else. And that was to do something in the field of arts. Her time was spent in polishing her sprouting-seedling skills, determined to let it grow tall and strong with a stick sturdy enough to support it. Practice makes perfect. Her ahnds were now used to the hours spent sketching or writing, fingers perfectly molded to the now-rounded octagonal edges of the pencil. Her fingertips have worn the yellow paint that once coated the handle of her paintbrush, sweat of pure determination and perseverance strong enough to break down pigments.

But every dream has their obstacles, and Cassandra found her certain obstacle to quite stereotypical and makes her question her integrity. Her Grandmother, who raised her to the person she was now, was slowly dying with old age. They hadn't really got a stable source of income, when they were mostly relying on her Grandmother's inherited money. It had always been enough ― enough for the necessities to survive and some to scrape by to let her spend on the most basic items for her hobbies.

She sighed, one heavy exhale that was accompanied with her slump shoulders. Cassandra dropped her pen, stood up and gathered her things to dump in her bag. She was glad she knew how to make one from the fabric scraps that that good ol' fabric shopkeeper gives her. It wasn't the best one, with random patterns and random sizes obviously stitched together to something almost shapeless, but three layers were sturdy enough to hold her school items.

Clutching her doodled page, she wove her away around the hallways and smiled once she stepped outside. There was Dillon, waiting for her. She enjoys spending time with him, although he talks for both of them most of the time. He was a ray of sunshine, and he just has this way of making her smile with his easy-going attitude that makes her want to stay awhile a little longer.

She glanced down, and chuckled to herself once she saw his feet, actually trapped inside a pair of shoes. "Wow. You're wearing shoes, Dill."

OOC -- [ I'm a horrible RPer, I know D: But I lost muse for her and these were all the words that I managed to squeeze out of her xD ]