Heartache by the Number {Hidden}

I roll over, the canvas sheets rubbing harshly against my skin. I press my fists into my eyes, and flip off the thin fabric I was using as a blanket. Grumbling to myself, I crawl from bed, and paw around in the dim light to find the clothing I desire. I've slept longer than I intended, and it's later than when I usually set out, but the weak winter sun provides little light with which to see. I thunk down the stairs, shrugging on my leather jacket as I go. Much to my delight, the tiny house is empty. My brother and father have long since left for the mines, and my mother must've gone to the market. I pull on my hunting boots, and hunt through the cupboards until I found something suitable for a small breakfast. A small apple, still good. I move about the cramped kitchen/dining room and gently clean it with an old towel. I look up, and find my refelction staring back at me from an half shattered mirror. Wavy, jet black hair. A blue eye. A green eye. Me. Underweight, with a wild look in those two tone eyes.

I stare at myself for a moment, then turn away to pull on my boots. I dart out the rickety door, swalling my measly excuse for a snack. Perhaps I'll find some sort of berries later on to satisfy me. I move briskly across the Seam until I reach the bent wire fence. A quick glance assures me of no unwanted eyes, and then I wriggle through. Without second thought, I dart into the trees, quickly reaching the location where I hide my weapons. I slide the knife into my belt, ang sling the quiver onto my back. Grabing my bow, I set off. I wander through the tangle of trees for a while, taking care to make my footsteps silent. I do some gathering, collecting various edible herbs, roots and berries in a small pouch, also tied to my belt. I don't do any hunting, I really just wanted to get away, like always. I encounter nothing of excitement, until I realzie how far I must have come. It means nothing to me, the distance, I'll be able to get back. I know the woods.

I scale a large tree, pulling myself up perhaps twenty five feet or so. My bow makes it a slight challenge, but then again I do this almost on a daily basis. From my perch, I can see much farther, and notice sunlight brightening one small section. A tiny forest clearing. Curious, I make my way toward it quietly, remaining in the trees for safety and concealment. It's even less noise then when I tread on the soil, and I'm less likely to be noticed, which I greatly prefer. I swing to a last tree, one standing just at the edge of the scruffy little clearing. My sweep over it, and almost immediately come to focus on a young man, sitting against a fallen tree. Just reading. Cautiously, I slip out an arrow and load my bow. He won't be able to reach me twenty feet up, but still. He's definately older than myself, tall and muscular. I will take no chances. I'm quick, yes, armed, and have the adavantage of being up higher. He appears very absorbed in his book, and it seems he has yet to take not of presence.

outfit: here
notes :: meh, sorry kinda rambled in the beginning there.

I'm still perched high on my branch - my brother used to say I looked like something a bird, ready to take to the woods at any moment - when the young man slowly closes his book and returns it to a small nook in the fallen tree. His eyes scan around the forest, and I'm a bit surprised I'm not noticed. I am, after all, right on the edge of the clearing. The limbs cover me some, but I'm visible enough. Must not have been looking high enough. Not everyday you see someone twenty feet up in a tree. He rises to his feet, and I tense in anticipation, my fingers curling tighter around the bow string. He's bigger tha nhe looked sitting. Must be over six feet, and very muscular. I'm five seven, not too short for a fifteen year old girl, but skinny, because I do live in the Seam. This young man makes me look like a scrawny child. He picks up a decent sized rock, tossing around, before he sends it flying toward the forest. At first I think he's spotted me, but the stone doesn't appear to be aimed at me.


His voice startles me, when he calls out, rather loudly, and I jump slightly. "Always so quiet here..." Not what I had expected. I raise an eyebrow, half expecting him to turn and spot me. He doesn't. My eyes flit around the clearing briefly, and hesitate his bag. I immediately wonder if he's armed, and the thought makes me uneasy. But, you do have the advantge. At least for now. There's no way he's getting up this high, the branches are too thin, they'd snap under his weight. The thought eases my discontent. The second thing I take notice of is his jacket. It's labeled somehow, but I'm not quite ablet to make it out. I squint through the branches, and make out the number eleven. Eleven? Can that be right? My brow furrows, have I wandered tht far from Twelve? Must be. Doesn't matter I suppose. I can get back easily enough.

I watch his actions closely as he moves towards his bag, and returns to the center of the clearing. He settles down again and begins to sketch on a sheet of paper. It appears as though his utensil is a hunk of charcoal. I'm still a bit on the surprised side, that he has yet to notice me, and it crosses my mind that he might be aware of me, but simply choosing not to aknowlege me. It doesn't seem likely. Hesitantly, I move a few trees over, and settle into my usual stance. My bow is still loaded, but it's not aimed anywhere, I hold it in a relatively realxed position. I do not want to use it on him, I have absolutely no desire too injure or kill him, unless he threatens me. I pause, the drop down onto lower branch. I'm plenty visible now, and the dry leaves on the branch rattle audibly at my movement. I'm sure ot be noticed now, but it would make sense, I'm not here to spy, and it wouldn't make sense to leave unnoticed.

outfit: here
notes :: n/a

I've resumed my usual stance, and automatically re-focus on him. He remains in a crouch, but slowly turns his head around in my direction. My gaze locks with his, and for several moments we just stare each other down in silence. Neither of us moves, but finally he seems to decide I'm not much of a threat. He yells out to me. "Having fun watching me up there?" I hesitate for a moment, but his tone appears friendly enough, about as friendly as you'd expect when adressing someone holding a weapon. "Should I be?" I respond, swinging down from the tree, landing neatly on my feet. I return my hand to the loaded bow string. I have no intention of using it unless he decides to come after me with something, but I suppose being a hunter makes me a bit overly cautious. I pace silently forward, but come to a wary halt about fifteen feet from him.

He's still studying me, sizing me up, and I'm sure he's figured out by now that if he got grip on me, I'd be done. My only hope would be to outrun him, and get into a tree. I've been trekking through the forest for as long as I can remember, and I'm thinking I may be able to move faster through the forest because of my smaller size. Then again, he could be plenty fast. Certainly has a lot of muscle, makes me look like a ragdoll. I figdet, adjusting my grip on my bow. He folds his arms. If was going to get out of a fight here, my best chance would bbe to get an arrow into him, I do have my knife tucked into my belt, but what's that to someone who probably has a hundred pounds on me? If I had to guess, I'd say I'm one hundred pounds, max. My only advanatge would be my ability to kill from a distance. I push these thoughts away, I have no desire to harm him.

The way he's staring at me, I have to wonder if he's taken any guesses as to where I'm from. He'd obviously recognize me had I been from Eleven, but perhaps he's got in his head I'm a wanderer, or from District Twelve, which is exactly what I am. A Seam girl, who barely manages to escape starvation. If I didn't have my bow, I'm sure my family would have starved to death a long time ago. The only thing else one can do to survive is steal, and many people do just that. Many children are also forced to sign up for tesserae, to put their names in more times only to be rewarded with a meager supply of oil and grain. My brother, before he was killed in the games, had put his name in for tesserae on several occaisons. Same with my other brother, and so have I, though not as many as my siblings. I can't help but wonder that had he not had to put in his name more times, he might still be here, hunting with me. I force myself to clear my head. He's gone. I tell myself harshly, refocusing on the young man.

outfit: here
notes :: n/a

His gaze is trained on me, eyes boring into mine. I stare back, unflinching. Finally, his voice breaks the tense silence. "You can have fun if you like, I have no bad intentions." I consider his words for a moment, debating the fact that he might be lying. I let it go. What does it matter? Have fun? I'm not sure "fun" is the term I would use. "Good to hear." I say, but he can probably hear the disstrust in my voice, refusing to let any sort of emotion show on my face. I have no trust for anyone anyone anylonger, even my own family, and I keep my emotions hidden from them. From everyone really. It's more of a habit now, I never smile anymore, never laugh. I've even abondonded singing, my brother taught me a few songs, and I'm not to bad. He always raved about it, but I rarely, if ever, even briefly mention music. My face remains in its usual flat, wary expression. He gives me a bit of smirk, and places his hands in his pockets. This immediately sets me on edge. Perhaps I'm jumping to conclusions, but this smirk gives me a bit of an arrogant impression. I don't know him at well, so I really have no right to assume. The only thing that bothers me is the fact that he's now got his hands buried in his pockets, which could easily conceal a weapon. I suppose it might make sense to at least have knife when you're out in the woods.

"I'm Randall..." He says, and right aaway any other thoughts vanish and I'm focused solely on hims and any sort of threat. But his voice is a bit softer, more gentle. Still, a pause follows before I respond. "Nola." I reply, still hesitant. I guess in a way, my distrustful attitude is a virtue. I have such trouble getting close to someone, it's even harder to make a mistake in their personality. I take a better look at this young man, from a district that must be so different than my own. He's dressed in somewhat worn clothing, like me. I notice his eyes have fallen briefly on my bow. Whether it's because my weapon makes him a bit uncomfortable, or it's just curiousity I'm not sure, but the it seems he is studying it, and to me that translates to curiousity. "My brother made it." I say, and immediately wonder if I should have spoken at all. I haven't had a real conversation with someone in a quite a while. The majority of my speaking happens in the Hob, when I'm trading some of my game for other necessitites. I'm a tough trader, and will happily argue with you over a price, but other wise I'm a a girl of few words. I prefer it that way, and when I do speak it's because I have something to say. There a plenty of people around who speak far too much, at least in my opinion, because, it seems, they have to say something.

outfit: here
notes :: donedonedone

I stand in a slightly uncomfortable silence, awaiting whatever reply he might have. Our eyes are still locked on each other, mine judging his every action out of disstrust, his perhaps studying me simply out of interest. He seems to be making an effort to appear friendly, and I wonder what other side of him he might be covering. The thought doesn't make me anymore relaxed, but isn't to be expected for everyone two have another "side"? Doesn't everyone have a colder side? Look at us, living like we do, how else would the people survive? Look at me, crossing the fence to prowl through the forest like a wildcat, never any joy on my face. Even with three of us working to put food on the table, it's still a big job. Feeding four people everyday is no small task, and I admit, I bring home the majority of the food. Much of the money my brother and father earn in the mines is used on clothing, coal, and whatever else I can't scrape up from the woods.

I sigh, knowing that if I don't return with game - or heck, if I don't return at all - my family will go hungry. There are times I wonder why I bother providing for them, we are so distant. And as for my brother, well, I can't deny I haven't at least once hoped the mine caved in on him. But I have to, because I do still care about my parents, and if something happened to them, I'd be shoved into some sort of orphange. No way I'd be staying with my brother. I avert my eyes, tracing the wood grain with my eyes. "You have a nice name.." He says quietly. I blink in surprise. If I get any sort of comment, it's usually on my appearance. You know, the eyes. Not a common occurance around the district. Most people just stare. Maybe that's why I refrain from making any attempt at socializing. "Uhm...thanks." I mumble. I rack my brain from something else to say, but nothing comes. I may not talk much, but I'm usually a bit smoother with words than this.

"Its nice to meet you." He gives me a bright smile, and I find myself wondering how he can put a smile on his face. Then I remember he probably doesn't have the same burdens I do. I really need to quit complaining to myself. It's not going to help anything. "You too." I say, wondering how awkward I must sound to him. I make an effort to return his smile. I manange to turn up the corners of my lips to form a hint of a smile. I do my best to recall some happier thoughts, and I think I actually conjour up a real smile. I'm rather pleased with myself. I look back up to him, letting the curve slide from my lips, but keeping my expression a bit more friendly, and let myself relax a bit more. I still don't trust him, I have such issues with that, but it's a start. After I few minutes, I talk myself into sliding my arrow back into the quiver. I pluck it from the bow string and slip in hesitantly back into the quiver resting on my back. Slowly, I let the arm holding the bow relax at my side. I'm still a bit on the tense side, but better thann before.

outfit: here
notes :: ramblerambleramble xD

The smile has faded from my face, in part because of the way he is now looking at me. Like that expression might put a crevice in my face. I press my lips together, feeling rather out of place, but after a moment he returns my smile again. I'm quite relieved, I the last thing I need is anoother enemy. I've made a few in my time. There's a short pause, which I spend plucking absentmindedly at my bow string. Finally he breaks the silence, gesturing toward his bag. "Hey, I've got a lot of bread from the mills in my bag, do you want some?" I hesitate biting my lip. Back in Twelve, I hate it when people give me that pitiful shake of their head, offering what they can spare. I don't want their pity. I can take care of myself, I've been doing it for years. Still here arn't I? I've been scolded for that though, by my parents, who always instruct me to take whatever I can get. I still refuse nay offering of food. If my parents want to wander and beg for food, fine. But I won't.

My usual response to this type of offer would be something along the lines of '"I don't take charity,"' or '"I don't need your pity,"'. Like I said, I hate seeing the pity in their eyes. But it seems rude to reply like that, and it's not like I'm not hungry. It looks like a lot of game I bring back, but I trade some of it off, and then the rest is divided among four people. Well." I begin slowly. "I suppose it couldn't hurt." Warily, I step forward, and as I near him I notice a nasty scar on his face. I can't help but to wonder about it, I'm sure people wonder about mine - I have several, some small, faint ones among my face, but mostly on my limbs - and I'm sure some have guessed correctly. To me it looks like a wound that would've been caused by a whip. There are always people who walk the streets with whips wounds. I swear, it is the Capitols favorite punishment, with the exception of the games. I don't bother to ask about his scars, and am sure not stare. I do give an approving nod though. "Steal it from those pigs in the Capitol?" I ask with a half smile.

I'll do the same thing, if given the chance. However, I must take care to be diligent. Many of the peackeepers redognize me as teh girl he brings back game from the woods. They might be some of my customers, but if they caught me stealing, I'd be in way over my head. But I know for a fact they don't need all that they get down at the Capitol, they could easily keep the districts better fed than they do. But there's nothing the districts can do. There are times I wish someone would start another rebellion, but it would have to be everyone or no one. Otherwise, the rebels would be crushed, and I have no doubt the districts would be severly punished, the one who began it all obliterated like they did District Thirteen. There are always the rumors though, we've all heard them. That there are people living there, underground. And I've been tempted to make a run for it. But I can't. I'm being counted on to bring back a meal. I push my thoughts away, waiting for Randall to come to. He looks lost in some memory as well.

outfit: here
notes :: n/a

He seemed pleased by my response. He beckons toward his bag, and I follow him over, not quite as hesitant as before. My comment makes him grin, and his reply influences another smile from me. "I don't call it stealing. I call it taking whats rightfully ours." I nod. The Capitol has a surplus of anything and everything they could ever need or want. Only districts One and Two seem to have enough to sustain their populations. Probably because their the Capitol's lap dogs. "Agreed." I say. It's nice to have someone around who feels the same way I do. My family cringes at the thought of me talking trash about the Capitol. Why, I'll never understand. It's their fault, after all, that we're so close to starvation. That my brother was murdered. He holds out a small pouch to me, and reach out to take it. "This should be enough." He mumbles. I blink in surprise. There's several loaves in here, enough to keep my family going for several days if we're careful. "Thank you." I tell him, securing the pouch to my belt, near my knife. He carries a blade too, I notice as he stands. This doesn't bother me as much as it might some people, who's going to come out here unarmed? Back in Twelve, there are few people who will brave the woods to hunt or gather, because they don't have weapons. Not brave enough to go out with just a small knife in their hand. My bow is rare, and I keep the one my brother used well hidden in the forest. Our gazes meet briefly, and I'm happy to be talking more openly with someone. It feels good to smile again, it must have been years.

outfit: here
notes :: sorry for the shotness, had to rush it. :-P