Leaves of a Lily [Myst; Thundy; open!]
Apr 17, 2012 13:12:11 GMT -5
Post by Yuri Yoshikawa on Apr 17, 2012 13:12:11 GMT -5
"Hwey! Gwive that bwack, mine!!"
"Nuh-uh!"
"Hweeeey! No fair!!"
"Of course it's fair. I'm older, so it's mine!"
"N-no!! L-Lily, Tai t-t-took my t-twoi...!"
Yuri sighs. She scrubs madly with her sponge against the course film that covers the sauce-splattered plate. Water pours down over her hands, her sponge, and the plate, washing away only little bits of filth away at a time, first onto her skin, and then down the sides of her hands and into the tiny drain at the bottom of the equally tiny sink. Beside her, three lopsided piles of dirty plates, bowls, spoons, knives, forks, pans, pots, lids, and other assorted tools sway dangerously next to the sink. She places the plate in her hand, only half removed from its accumulated sauce -- the plate, white with a simple golden border, was the only one of note in their household, and it was exclusively her father's -- on the other side of the sink, where a much smaller pile of neatly stacked but mostly clean dishes glimmered in the dim light that trickles in from imperfections in the wooden walls and the small rectangular window just above her.
Taiju giggles somewhere behind her. Hikari's little voice cracks, burbles, and transforms into small, fleeting gasps. For the fourth time that day, the youngest of her siblings bursts into tears. Her wailing fills the small, cramped cottage, reverberating against every wall, the seaweed-littered floor, and Yuri's ears.
Yuri sighs again. She spins around to find Taiju sitting with his feet crossed on top of the round kitchen table, a small wooden doll adorned in a cute, hand-crafted blue dress clutched between his mud-caked fingers, and Hikari leaning against the legs of his chair for support, looking up at him with huge, watery eyes.
Yuri runs a hand through her flowing midnight hair and shakes her head for a second time. She's almost cross at them for making such a racket when their father was finally tucked away in the confines of his room, but she knows she can't blame them -- they are just children, after all. She puts a smile on her lips and crosses the room to where the two of them are fighting. Hikari gazes up at her with hope in her eyes. Taiju eyes her but remains silent. His grip on the doll tightens. Yuri smiles wider.
She sinks down to her knees before Taiju, her hands clasped elegantly over her lap. He tilts his head, eyebrows raised, clearly confused. Yuri bows her head and raises both of her hands towards him.
"Oh, good sir, won't you return the young lady's toy?"
Taiju stirs. His eyes widen. He glances around uncomfortably, particularly at the door, in case any of his friends are waiting outside and happen to catch the scene. He tosses the little doll into Yuri's open hands and jumps up from the table, his face a bright pink.
Yuri closes her fingers around the doll's fragile frame and lifts her head to give Taiju a warm smile. He huffs and crosses his arms. Yuri hands the doll back to Hikari before pulling the younger girl into a tight hug. Hikari giggles and smiles under the curtain of Yuri's hair before returning her sister's hug. Yuri leaves a kiss on the girl's forehead before standing up and turning to Taiju. Her brother stirs again, but before he has the chance to get away, Yuri practically tackles him and gives him the same treatment.
"Ew, gross!" Taiju sputters when Yuri kisses him too, but as she pulls away she catches the near-invisible smile that creeps across his lips.
"Love you too," she sticks her tongue out at him. Taiju rolls his eyes.
The sound of voices cheering bursts into the household through the open windows. Without even looking, Yuri knows that the sound comes from the District square not far from their home. She rattles her thoughts as to what could possibly have turned up that level of excitement this early in the morning -- the answer comes quickly.
Of course... the Hunger Games.
"I'm going out," Yuri announces and grabs for the ice blue sash that hangs neatly off the coat rack beside the front door. She slips the thing around her waist, ties it expertly, and adjusts the folds in her simple blue dress. She looks over her shoulder at her siblings and winks. "Promise me you'll stay out of trouble until I'm back?"
"Whatever," Taiju growls.
"Thanks."
Yuri slips out the door without another word.
She makes sure to head in the direction of the village square in case Taiju or Hikari decide to watch her walk away from the house, but she has no intention of joining the crowds of adults in the square that would no doubt be placing their bets or arguing about the latest round of mock reapings. She cringes at the mere thought of it. Every year, her District got together in the square -- at least, most of the adults and the select crazy children who were actually willing to become Tributes -- and discussed in raised voices the potential that District 4 might actually beat District 1 and 2 in the Games this year. As the smallest of the Career districts, 4 not only had to provide its routine two Tributes, but it also had a dying reputation to keep, according to the crazies, Yuri thinks.
Still, she would be lying to herself if she said she didn't think about it. Perhaps it was all the propaganda and hype the Peacekeepers and the Capitol poured into televising it year after year. Perhaps it was the way all the boys talked in hushed voices in class or after hours about how long and hard they'd trained to be ready for the reaping. Perhaps it was the nightmares that haunted her of her own reaping, or even worse, the reaping of Taiju or Hikari. The thoughts shake her to her core. She stops near a small bushel of berries, out of sight, to breathe and let the thought pass. She bites her lip and it's enough, barely, to keep the thoughts at bay. When she can feel her arms become steady once more, she narrows her eyes and kicks herself away from the bushel. She turns towards the sea and disappears into the thin line of trees that line the coast. She follows them all the way down, past even the back of her own house and the little dock that harbours her father's (though it should be her's, because she's the one he makes go out and actually do any of the fishing) puny fishing boat, until the ground beneath her feet grows uneven and dotted with small rocks, vines, and the odd flower.
Yuri smiles to herself. She claps a hand around the fabric of her dress and hikes it up as she jumps through the minefield of stones that lays beneath the underbrush, her feet carrying her without her mind having to do any of the work. It's been a while, but her body knows the way to the beach better than she does -- it's like returning to the one place in the world where everything is finally right.
When her shoes sink into the earth, warmth fills her chest like nothing else can. She doesn't have to look down to see the sand form valleys and mountains around her feet to know she's there. She gazes over the mess of underbrush at the ocean and pushes her way through the rest of it. Finally, the world opens up until there is nothing but an endless sea of sand and water before her. The voices from the square are gone, lost to the gentle touch of the breeze and the pounding of the waves. Yuri bursts into a run down the beach, tossing her shoes off without a care and leaving them half-buried in the sand. She stops only when the sand grows wet and cold and the only thing she can see is water for miles and miles and miles on end.
Yuri flops down onto the sand, landing neatly on her knees and then sliding sideways until she's almost laying down on the bed of microscopic grains. The wind plays with her hair. The lily on her head sways and dances. The breezes leaves bits of sand and salt on her face, hands, neck, and dress. She grins. The little grits might annoy someone else, but to her, it was like being sprinkled with warmth and love. It was the best feeling in the world.
She sinks further into the sand. She closes her eyes. The sound of the waves becomes her world, the warmth of the sand beneath her becomes her bed, and only the solitary beach reminds her of how far away and alone she is from everything else.
"Nuh-uh!"
"Hweeeey! No fair!!"
"Of course it's fair. I'm older, so it's mine!"
"N-no!! L-Lily, Tai t-t-took my t-twoi...!"
Yuri sighs. She scrubs madly with her sponge against the course film that covers the sauce-splattered plate. Water pours down over her hands, her sponge, and the plate, washing away only little bits of filth away at a time, first onto her skin, and then down the sides of her hands and into the tiny drain at the bottom of the equally tiny sink. Beside her, three lopsided piles of dirty plates, bowls, spoons, knives, forks, pans, pots, lids, and other assorted tools sway dangerously next to the sink. She places the plate in her hand, only half removed from its accumulated sauce -- the plate, white with a simple golden border, was the only one of note in their household, and it was exclusively her father's -- on the other side of the sink, where a much smaller pile of neatly stacked but mostly clean dishes glimmered in the dim light that trickles in from imperfections in the wooden walls and the small rectangular window just above her.
Taiju giggles somewhere behind her. Hikari's little voice cracks, burbles, and transforms into small, fleeting gasps. For the fourth time that day, the youngest of her siblings bursts into tears. Her wailing fills the small, cramped cottage, reverberating against every wall, the seaweed-littered floor, and Yuri's ears.
Yuri sighs again. She spins around to find Taiju sitting with his feet crossed on top of the round kitchen table, a small wooden doll adorned in a cute, hand-crafted blue dress clutched between his mud-caked fingers, and Hikari leaning against the legs of his chair for support, looking up at him with huge, watery eyes.
Yuri runs a hand through her flowing midnight hair and shakes her head for a second time. She's almost cross at them for making such a racket when their father was finally tucked away in the confines of his room, but she knows she can't blame them -- they are just children, after all. She puts a smile on her lips and crosses the room to where the two of them are fighting. Hikari gazes up at her with hope in her eyes. Taiju eyes her but remains silent. His grip on the doll tightens. Yuri smiles wider.
She sinks down to her knees before Taiju, her hands clasped elegantly over her lap. He tilts his head, eyebrows raised, clearly confused. Yuri bows her head and raises both of her hands towards him.
"Oh, good sir, won't you return the young lady's toy?"
Taiju stirs. His eyes widen. He glances around uncomfortably, particularly at the door, in case any of his friends are waiting outside and happen to catch the scene. He tosses the little doll into Yuri's open hands and jumps up from the table, his face a bright pink.
Yuri closes her fingers around the doll's fragile frame and lifts her head to give Taiju a warm smile. He huffs and crosses his arms. Yuri hands the doll back to Hikari before pulling the younger girl into a tight hug. Hikari giggles and smiles under the curtain of Yuri's hair before returning her sister's hug. Yuri leaves a kiss on the girl's forehead before standing up and turning to Taiju. Her brother stirs again, but before he has the chance to get away, Yuri practically tackles him and gives him the same treatment.
"Ew, gross!" Taiju sputters when Yuri kisses him too, but as she pulls away she catches the near-invisible smile that creeps across his lips.
"Love you too," she sticks her tongue out at him. Taiju rolls his eyes.
The sound of voices cheering bursts into the household through the open windows. Without even looking, Yuri knows that the sound comes from the District square not far from their home. She rattles her thoughts as to what could possibly have turned up that level of excitement this early in the morning -- the answer comes quickly.
Of course... the Hunger Games.
"I'm going out," Yuri announces and grabs for the ice blue sash that hangs neatly off the coat rack beside the front door. She slips the thing around her waist, ties it expertly, and adjusts the folds in her simple blue dress. She looks over her shoulder at her siblings and winks. "Promise me you'll stay out of trouble until I'm back?"
"Whatever," Taiju growls.
"Thanks."
Yuri slips out the door without another word.
---
She makes sure to head in the direction of the village square in case Taiju or Hikari decide to watch her walk away from the house, but she has no intention of joining the crowds of adults in the square that would no doubt be placing their bets or arguing about the latest round of mock reapings. She cringes at the mere thought of it. Every year, her District got together in the square -- at least, most of the adults and the select crazy children who were actually willing to become Tributes -- and discussed in raised voices the potential that District 4 might actually beat District 1 and 2 in the Games this year. As the smallest of the Career districts, 4 not only had to provide its routine two Tributes, but it also had a dying reputation to keep, according to the crazies, Yuri thinks.
Still, she would be lying to herself if she said she didn't think about it. Perhaps it was all the propaganda and hype the Peacekeepers and the Capitol poured into televising it year after year. Perhaps it was the way all the boys talked in hushed voices in class or after hours about how long and hard they'd trained to be ready for the reaping. Perhaps it was the nightmares that haunted her of her own reaping, or even worse, the reaping of Taiju or Hikari. The thoughts shake her to her core. She stops near a small bushel of berries, out of sight, to breathe and let the thought pass. She bites her lip and it's enough, barely, to keep the thoughts at bay. When she can feel her arms become steady once more, she narrows her eyes and kicks herself away from the bushel. She turns towards the sea and disappears into the thin line of trees that line the coast. She follows them all the way down, past even the back of her own house and the little dock that harbours her father's (though it should be her's, because she's the one he makes go out and actually do any of the fishing) puny fishing boat, until the ground beneath her feet grows uneven and dotted with small rocks, vines, and the odd flower.
Yuri smiles to herself. She claps a hand around the fabric of her dress and hikes it up as she jumps through the minefield of stones that lays beneath the underbrush, her feet carrying her without her mind having to do any of the work. It's been a while, but her body knows the way to the beach better than she does -- it's like returning to the one place in the world where everything is finally right.
When her shoes sink into the earth, warmth fills her chest like nothing else can. She doesn't have to look down to see the sand form valleys and mountains around her feet to know she's there. She gazes over the mess of underbrush at the ocean and pushes her way through the rest of it. Finally, the world opens up until there is nothing but an endless sea of sand and water before her. The voices from the square are gone, lost to the gentle touch of the breeze and the pounding of the waves. Yuri bursts into a run down the beach, tossing her shoes off without a care and leaving them half-buried in the sand. She stops only when the sand grows wet and cold and the only thing she can see is water for miles and miles and miles on end.
Yuri flops down onto the sand, landing neatly on her knees and then sliding sideways until she's almost laying down on the bed of microscopic grains. The wind plays with her hair. The lily on her head sways and dances. The breezes leaves bits of sand and salt on her face, hands, neck, and dress. She grins. The little grits might annoy someone else, but to her, it was like being sprinkled with warmth and love. It was the best feeling in the world.
She sinks further into the sand. She closes her eyes. The sound of the waves becomes her world, the warmth of the sand beneath her becomes her bed, and only the solitary beach reminds her of how far away and alone she is from everything else.
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