Penn Larsen :: D10 :: WIP

Penn Larsen :: D10 :: WIP Jul 8, 2012 12:22:14 GMT -5

Post by MJ on Jul 8, 2012 12:22:14 GMT -5

Do you recall how I was once your fire??
And we, a regal cloud of unity
Meandering through the closing blues of night,
Commanding stars to glitter;
Dawn to blush?

They surround me in the middle of the living room, clipboards in their hands. They stare at me, and I can't help but wondering who they are, or what they would want from me, Penn Larsen. It's been said that the capitol people were in town--and I have no clue why they would be interested in a seventeen year old man like me. Why would the rich capitol people, the ones who shunned all of the people in district ten, visit us at all? Why were they here? When I really think it through, they could be here for one reason, and one reason I know of.

Your answer comes in ever-blanking stares:
A wall that blocks the know,
Damping down the glow that used to emanate
From clear and lucid eyes.
They've lost the will to recognise.

I'm the odd one out in my family of blondes--my dark brown hair is wavy, unlike the straight locks that fall down the back of my sister's heads. I don't know why I'm different--but, was I really that much different. They call me sometimes, but not in a yelling voice, or anything that would suggest that I'm in trouble. I live in the small house on the street corner, my mouth set in a small smirk, for it's the simplest of expressions out there. My ice blue eyes are often compared to the water that comes during the summer in district ten. It's clearness is almost too obvious, sometimes even hard to see. My eyes appear clear, though the tint of blue is obvious once I think about it. Or are they more of an icy color? I'm not sure. My frame is very tall and lanky, and not too many prominent muscles have appeared anywhere on my body, leaving a thin frame instead. Standing at six foot two, I'm not the tallest, nor the shortest in my family of five. No, that's my brother--he's about six foot six.

I don't like to dress in a fancy manner. Whenever the local salesman or sewer from around town comes to the main area of district eleven, I walk up to him and offer a small price for ragged clothes. "You sure you don't want any of the better clothes? I can get you some for the same price," he often asks me, but I just shake my head and respond with a simple "No." I prefer to wear the lightest and easiest clothes to put on and take off. After a long day of working on the ranch, I like to go cool down in the small lake the resides across the property, which belongs to my family and the neighbors.

But here, we are fifty years together –
And once we writhed in pleasure –
Drowning in emotion,
That which was our prime.