Mind Tricks | [Stare]

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Destiny
. . . .
Lenstil

I am rather uncertain as to what exactly drew me out of my house in the depths of nighttime. I had been lying in bed, trying to get a decent amount of sleep before my planned journey into the wilderness tomorrow. The covers were warm and familiar, shielding me from the chilled air of winter that I know I will soon be exposed to when I sleep at the bases of tall trees or perhaps, if I am lucky, on the cold stone floor of a cave. And yet, even with the warmth surrounding me and the knowledge that tonight is my last night to get a good night's sleep in a heated place, I tossed and turned for what felt like hours. Something wasn't right- there was some unrest within me, something wailing to be free as it yanked on its chains. And who was I to deny myself the strange desire to leave my home and never look back to explore the darkness of District Two's long forgotten streets. Silent as a shadow of something terrible, horrible, nightmarish, I had slipped out from under my comforter and over to the creaking rocking chair on the other side of my cramped room, the white paint chipping and forming ugly scales all over the once smooth surface. There were my boots, jacket, and hat, all waiting for the sun to rise and warm their soft surfaces so that I could use them while battling nature out in the wild. It seems that they would get early use, however- without even bothering to change, I roughly yanked on my black winter boots and fumbled with my zipper in the inky darkness of my room (a place that had been quickly becoming suffocatingly safe). At last, I had been able to push open my front door and be greeted by the wonderfully sweet winter air, breathing in freedom and proceeding into the world of darkness and danger.

As I trudge through the icy streets of the Career district, I quietly realize that this is not the first time I have done something like this. There have been nights that I have tossed and turned after particularly long stays in this prison district where it all became too much, and I had to get away from the shrinking rooms and nameless faces and horrible comfort. Before she left me, I wasn't like that. I was one of those faces- I belonged in the glittering chandeliers and long, hard days of Career training. This district was once my district; or perhaps it was the other way around, and I really belonged to it. But that all changed the day she got sick, when the sun couldn't set fast enough and then, when it did, the night dragged on for hours as she screamed at invisible people and begged me to somehow drag her out of her misery. Of course I couldn't- I was just a little girl, after all. And then there was that night with the doctor's cold, desperately emotionless faces and her cold, cold hand. That was the night I broke free. As soon as the final mark had been carved into her gravestone, I fled. The district didn't own me anymore, and neither did the Capitol. I flung myself into the understanding hands of nature. And yet... and yet perhaps the district does possess me still, in some strange way that keeps on drawing me back to this place. The idea of calling District Two my home is almost laughable, for the woods have become my home- that event long ago turned me into a creature of nature, a wild spirit too free to be tamed by the Capitol. But my mother's affection for the horrible place tied strings to my otherwise unclipped wings, anchoring me to a district I hate. I want so badly to be free but dreams of her ghost whisper for me to stay, for things have yet to be seen and done before I may finally escape the Capitol's icy fingers forever.

My breath forms silvery mist in front of my face and everything feels so still that only the inward wailing trapped within the depths of my mind keeps it from being peaceful. This isn't enough it'll never be enough; something within me screams runrunrun and so I do, my feet pounding against perilously icy pavement but my mind barely registering the danger. It is all I can do to keep from spreading my invisible wings arms out and pretend I am flying, toes barely grazing the hard ground as I soar through the streets, light as air with the icy wind on my face and the taste of winter fresh on my lips. Something howls pleasure within me, and perhaps I laugh or perhaps I cry but I am so lost in my new fantasy, this almost freedom, that I don't even notice either way. This is what I was born to be- not a girl with a pretty dress and beautiful jewelry, but a fox bird wolf bear butterfly free spirit with the seasons tucked away into the strands of my hair and the creases in my lips and the folds of my clothing. They attempted to mold me into something plastic and perfect, but I was meant to be so much more.

And then, as I round another corner, I am jerked out of my beautiful game of pretend by the sighting of a girl. Suddenly, I am not as light as air and I do not have wings- I am heavy and clumsy as I attempt to slow my feet down, to stop them, only to find that the ice is making this nearly impossible. Seeing a painful collision well on its way, I give a little squeal of surprise and then force my knees to collapse, folding so that I land hard on the ice but do slow myself down slightly. Still, I glide along the surface at a rather alarming speed, and my fingernails make a high pitched squealing sound as the dig into the ice, desperately trying to halt myself before tumbling into this innocent bystander. My fingers suddenly catch on a chunk of ice, and I yelp as I am flung forward into a somersault and am finally stopped by a very hard brick wall. As my face smacks into the hard surface, I hear a very tiny snap in my nose, and give a small yelp of pain as I reach up to stem the instant flow of blood, forcefully pinching my nostrils shut even though this is blindingly painful. I take a few deep breaths before trusting myself to stand on wobbly, slightly brushed legs, and turn to face the girl. My cheeks, already pink from the wind, go even darker, and I blink stupidly a few times before taking a few steps forward. "I am so sorry! I didn't mean to disturb you..." the pitch of my voice is made higher by my blocked nasal passages, and I feel like a complete idiot as I stand there in my pink and purple plaid pajama bottoms now thoroughly torn at the knees, and crimson fingers desperately trying to stop my bleeding nose that is already beginning to swell.

. .
Destiny
. . . .
Lenstil

It takes me a moment to realize that the quickly melting snow in the palm of her hand is for me. I quickly put a smile on my face and reach forward, awkwardly removing it from her hand and placing it up against the bridge of my nose although it's already half water, icy cold drops slipping into the creases of my palm and gliding down the inside of my wrist. The cold does a little to help numb the pain, but the blood still flows heavily and begins to squeeze through my fingers and drip crimson onto my lips. "Thanks," I say, smiling as best as I can without making my nose any worse. "It's helping a lot."

I extend my clean hand toward her, ignoring the icy liquid and hot scarlet that is dripping down my face. "My name's Destiny. Sorry I scared you... it really was an accident."

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Destiny
. . . .
Lenstil

I laugh, and it still sounds musical despite the fact that it's a bit more nasal than normal. My eyes are still sparkling despite the throbbing in my nose, and I tilt my head to the side slightly. "I'll be fine, don't worry." I suppose, to a girl who has spent her entire life in a district, that this must seem bad. But I have dealt with far worse out in the wild, where disaster is always just a breath away and when usually all I have to deal with it is a roll of bandages. I've learned to tolerate pain better than most. What I really hate is sickness- the thing that killed my mother, and which is pain on the inside instead of the outside. I can't stand that kind- it feels as if I'm being torn apart and there isn't anything I can do about it. Injuries hurt, but sickness kills.

"So, Saphira, what are you doing out so late?"

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Destiny
. . . .
Lenstil

What am I doing out here? For a moment, I consider telling her that I came out here to fly. It's the truth, after all- I needed to get out and spread my imaginary wings and just feel the wind against my face and in my hair. But would she understand? Would anyone understand? Probably not. No one in the districts can possibly know and long for freedom the way I do. Every moment I am weighed down by the Capitol's chains is a painful one, contrasting sharply with the time I spend outside the fence, which is light and happly and always ending far too soon.

"I don't know. I guess you could say that I'm a bit claustrophic- I don't like being contained for too long. It makes me nervous."

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Destiny
. . . .
Lenstil

My eyebrows rise as she describes the sensation of imaginary flight, which I know all too well. I suddenly find myself thinking that it's a shame that she has never known freedom- true freedom. The kind that only comes from wandering outside the fence, with a face turned up toward a night sky that shines bright without the Capitol's laws to shadow it's brilliance. It's something that can't be understood unless one truly feels it. I've felt it. And I fell in love with it in an instant. I wanted more. I'll always want more, until the day that my mother's memory finally releases me from this dreadful place.

But no, I must not think of such things right now. Instead, I turn toward her and smile as the colors shimmer around her. "You dance, then?"