a cellar in which daylight falls; Clover, JB Blitz

meg.
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a cellar in which daylight falls; Clover, JB Blitz Jan 21, 2013 19:34:47 GMT -5

Post by meg. on Jan 21, 2013 19:34:47 GMT -5

MEELA AHLI BIRDBROOK.

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II.

[/color][/font]Oh I’ll jump into your grave and die, And on my word you'll give up your whole life for me. You'll be reborn, bigger and stronger[/color]
And less alive... [/right][/tt]

It was my curiosity that lead me into the justice building, keeping a close step behind the peacekeepers that lead you. I told myself that I had to check out Asunder, too, but I had already met him once. I knew his type. You sat yourself down on a badly-stuffed couch, and chewed your nails until the pink petals of flesh under them cracked and bled. Could you even feel it? Certainly, you didn’t flinch, your mind spoke no audible words of pain. Indeed, all that I could catch was the odd word as it flitted past, a moth attracted to the candle in which it would inevitably drown.

‘quiet… faith? No, no, I can’t. Sierra. My sister. My little sparrow.’

The words made sense, but were not understandable. I didn’t know you that well then, after all. I read you like you were a text book on a subject with which I was unfamiliar, still unaquiented. Your words would only get clearer, but it would take some effort. What were you feeling, Meela? Anger? Sorrow? Fear? Regret? Perhaps it was just a blend of everything, a mixture of flavours to well dissolve to pick out a singular one.

There was only one line of thought that I could interpret well.

‘I want my sister.’

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Cross your fingers, hold your toes, We’re all going to die when the building blows. And the house that you were born in

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Is crumbling at the corners. [/right][/tt]
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a cellar in which daylight falls; Clover, JB Blitz Jan 21, 2013 19:48:48 GMT -5

Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on Jan 21, 2013 19:48:48 GMT -5

( S I E R R A H A Z E L B I R D B R O O K )

All of my life, I waited to break. Snapping and splitting didn't bother me - but I'd watched the Games on the television, and I knew there was only so much pain a person could endure before they tore in two. That kind of ending was something I feared in myself. For fifteen years I clung to the strongest of those around me in order to keep myself upright. Of my family, Meela was always my favourite. She was the only one who seemed to understand that letting my bones tumble and crack was the only way to stop my heart from doing just that. She allowed me to run and jump - most importantly, she allowed me to fall.

Today, I understood for the first time just how irrevocably strong my elder sister is. Meela Birdbrook, the girl who can have her name called at reaping and look right on ahead. Perhaps I missed her glance to the floor or a tear that glistened in my eye - perhaps I only see what I want to see. But in that moment, I saw a girl so hardy and worn that her very structure is safe and strong and untouchable. I saw a sister who would come how. This is why, as I make my way to the Justice Building, I do not pass by our house. Nothing there will help her - taking it into the arena will simply dirty it for her and tarnish it in her mind. The coming days will be a series of broken bones for Meela - she will feel the pain ripple through her very being. Like me, she will not snap. Not yet.

Before I arrive, I notice the glimmer of a feather on the ground. As I bend to retrieve it - (too fast, too eager) - I feel a pang of pain as something in my foot or ankle or leg gives way. I ignore it and scoop the feather up, admiring the way it shines. It reminds me of the bubbles Meela used to blow for me to chase in summer, barefoot in our garden. One day, I want to dance with her and thank her for everything. Perhaps on her wedding day, I will spin her around and tell her what a great mother she will be. Soon, that day will come.

[/i] For now, I crack open the door of the room she is sitting in and look right at my sister. She doesn't look as confident as I feel, and I start in shock before offering her a smile.

"Meela?"

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a cellar in which daylight falls; Clover, JB Blitz Jan 21, 2013 20:13:07 GMT -5

Post by meg. on Jan 21, 2013 20:13:07 GMT -5

MEELA AHLI BIRDBROOK.

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III.

[/color][/font]Oh I’ll jump into your grave and die, And on my word you'll give up your whole life for me. You'll be reborn, bigger and stronger[/color]
And less alive... [/right][/tt]

You shiver as the door creaks open. It’s a noise that somehow gets into the very base of your spine and curls into a fist there, feeling something like a tumor. Expecting the uneven footsteps to belong to a white-clad peacekeeper, you don’t even bother to look up.

“Meela?”

Your head snaps up to look at the source of your sister’s voice, and one sentence comes out of your mind, loud and clear.

“I should have asked for a bigger wish.”

You deny that you thought it straight away, of course, but a little part of you feels silly, doesn’t it? You deserved more than just your sister. You deserved more freedom.

I love those honest streams of thought that babble from your mind. Adults learn how to stem them, how to never even emit what they really think. But you, somewhere between youth and agedness, you have enough sense to think clearly, but enough foolishness to let your thoughts go.

You jerk to your feet, movements uneven. Collecting Sierra in a physically loose, emotionally gripping hug, you don’t even remember that she was limping, don’t even notice that the whites of her eyes are the blue of a summer dawn. It’s the dangerous beauty that tells of a crack, an indicator for me to come a step closer.

Sierra and I, we have played grandma’s footsteps for fifteen years now. She has broken, I have moved towards her, but you have kept your eyes fixed on me the whole time, haven’t you?

“Sie sie,” the words crackle from your dry throat. I haven’t heard you call her that in a while. ‘She hates it,’ you think, almost in reply to me, but of course, you can’t read what I’m thinking.

“I’m sorry we can’t have any more adventures.”

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Cross your fingers, hold your toes, We’re all going to die when the building blows. And the house that you were born in

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Is crumbling at the corners. [/right][/tt]
[/SIZE][/font][/blockquote]

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a cellar in which daylight falls; Clover, JB Blitz Jan 21, 2013 20:28:56 GMT -5

Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on Jan 21, 2013 20:28:56 GMT -5

( S I E R R A H A Z E L B I R D B R O O K )

The pain that bubbles in my throat when my sister adresses me is almost blinding. I close my eyes for a moment and focus on breathing as she wraps her arms around me. It hurts. I can't tell if it's the pressure of her arms or the attempt I am making not to cry; but everything burns in this moment. For the slightest of seconds everything falls apart - but then I remember Meela is holding me and I feel her sturdy weight. She holds me together, just like always.

With the words that follow, she breaks me apart. "I'm sorry we can't have any more adventures." I push her away at these words, staring at her and trying to convey what she has just done. She has lied to me. She's coming home and she'll paint me stories and fill me with facts about the Capitol and take my hand. We'll rein-act her time in the arena together and I will dance with her at her wedding. She's lying to me. It will be okay. I look at her, fully intending to tell her this. Eyes brimming with tears, I swallow again in a useless attempt to rid myself of the lump in my throat.

"There'll be plenty of time for our adventures later. For now, Meela, you're going to go on your very own adventure."

( O T H E R ) C59483
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( T E X T ) 603A45
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a cellar in which daylight falls; Clover, JB Blitz Jan 21, 2013 22:25:05 GMT -5

Post by meg. on Jan 21, 2013 22:25:05 GMT -5

MEELA AHLI BIRDBROOK.

[/color][/font][/i][/right]

III.

[/color][/font]Oh I’ll jump into your grave and die, And on my word you'll give up your whole life for me. You'll be reborn, bigger and stronger[/color]
And less alive... [/right][/tt]

It is easier to understand what your sister is feeling than what you are, and I have access to only your thoughts. Plastered with disbelief, her face is that which I have seen so often at the sides of friends that I am in the process of taking away. She cannot let herself mourn for you yet, because that would mean letting go. Your mind is telling me that she’s angry with you, and, taking a look at her narrowed eyebrows and sunken eyes, there’s no doubting she is. If you were to give yourself up to me that easily, I guess I’d be angry too. For me, half of the fun is convincing people to come away.

You stare at her in disbelief as she pulls away from your embrace, but you really know that you should have expected this. You have always been the practical one, and she has always been the dreamer. It’s the reason your dynamic has worked so well, because together, you are balanced. But now, your scale has tipped and you are plummeting towards the ground and when you hit it, I will be the one to scrape you up.

"There'll be plenty of time for our adventures later. For now, Meela, you're going to go on your very own adventure."

The room is dingy, with yellowing walls and mildew in the corner of the roof. You spend too much time looking around it, trying to think of an answer that contains hope, whilst still being a promise. I don’t do hope. I can only do a promise.

“You be careful now, hear me? Don’t do anything too wild before I get back.”

’Damn it.’ You said it. You told her that you’d get back, that you were going to come home for her, which is something you know is going to be nigh on impossible. But you’re now convinced it’s what you’ve got to do now. She needs you. Even I can accept that. No one else can handle her like you can. It’s one of the things I admired first about you: how you took her hand and never let go.

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Cross your fingers, hold your toes, We’re all going to die when the building blows. And the house that you were born in

[/color]
Is crumbling at the corners. [/right][/tt]
[/SIZE][/font][/blockquote]

Last Edit: Jan 21, 2013 22:28:03 GMT -5 by meg.

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a cellar in which daylight falls; Clover, JB Blitz Jan 21, 2013 22:35:50 GMT -5

Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on Jan 21, 2013 22:35:50 GMT -5

( S I E R R A H A Z E L B I R D B R O O K )

The ache inside of me is stolen away so quickly with her words. I am so very grateful that my sister holds this power over me - when she says it's going to be alright, it always is. Her words distract me from everything that goes wrong, and when she offers me facts she has dug up from ancient books in the hope of bringing a smile to my face, I can never retain my laughter. In a way, Meela has always been my mother.

I don't - can't - hold the lack of care my parents provided against them. Again, I am glad, because in their place I found Meela. Now, when I look up and she assures me that she's coming back, I grin. I knew this all along. I just need to make sure that my elder sister remembers. "I found you something when I was walking, Meels," I lift the feather up to show her. When it catches the light, I want to gasp for a second time - I can't name the species of bird it comes from because I have never seen anything quite like it before. It looks so fragile.

"It's ever so pretty - promise me you'll bring it home?"

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a cellar in which daylight falls; Clover, JB Blitz Jan 21, 2013 23:01:38 GMT -5

Post by meg. on Jan 21, 2013 23:01:38 GMT -5

MEELA AHLI BIRDBROOK.

[/color][/font][/i][/right]

IV.

[/color][/font]Oh I’ll jump into your grave and die, And on my word you'll give up your whole life for me. You'll be reborn, bigger and stronger[/color]
And less alive... [/right][/tt]

As she shifts her weight to hold out the feather to you, you watch her wince. You know that face far too well, the one that’s trying to conceal pain, the one that’s so, so brave. Has she ever told you that she had broken? Watching for her face to contort is part of your daily routine, something that you have written over and over again until it is scarred into your brain. You don’t even listen to what she says, some of the last words she’ll ever say to you, because you’re worrying. What appears to be your last conversation is just the same as the others of yours that I have heard.

“You’ve got a break, haven’t you?” You demand. Suddenly, all thought of your own misery are gon from your head, and you are focused on the task at hand. You face screws up in annoyance, because it’s frustrating when she breaks, especially if you’re not around. Some part of you wants to scold her for not being more careful, but now is not an appropriate time.

And then, your body crumples just slightly when you realise that soon, you will be the broken one.

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[/center]

Cross your fingers, hold your toes, We’re all going to die when the building blows. And the house that you were born in

[/color]
Is crumbling at the corners. [/right][/tt]
[/SIZE][/font][/blockquote]

Last Edit: Jan 21, 2013 23:02:40 GMT -5 by meg.

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a cellar in which daylight falls; Clover, JB Blitz Jan 22, 2013 16:55:23 GMT -5

Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on Jan 22, 2013 16:55:23 GMT -5

( S I E R R A H A Z E L B I R D B R O O K )

I watch Meela's eyes flicker with concern, and I know before she even parts her lips that she can see it. Even without a mirror, I know that the whites of my eyes are a worrying blue - like the sky reflected in puddles on a dreary day. This thought snatches my mind away from the room for a fleeting moment. Meela and I used to dance in the rain. Considering the danger, it wasn't often that I fell.

It would be so easy to fall now - just let that last shred of balance I'm clinging to slip away and tumble to the ground. I'd break in the easy, fragile way I always do. It'd hurt - perhaps a bone would erupt through my skin, or come away from the joint. That way, the pain coursing through me would be so very real, so easy to explain away and pinpoint and let myself feel. Justified pain. When my sister asks me if I have a break, I nod. The terminology is easy for her to understand, but this time I wont let her fix me.

The Peacekeeper arrives at the door the moment I turn around, gesturing that our time together is coming to a close. She didn't promise. Meela didn't promise she'd come home to me. I think she's afraid of it breaking - her promise, my heart, her. "Remember the best way to avoid pain isn't to make sure you don't get hurt, okay, Meela? Do what you have to do to come home smiling."

( O T H E R ) C59483
( S P E A K I N G ) EBE6C6
( T E X T ) 603A45
( T H I N K I N G ) 362748

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