Caliope Georgiou || D10 {FIN}

Her thin face was cocked in a worried manner and mouth pursed in a straight unsure line, the sunlight reflecting off the cheap, shimmering gloss plastered onto her thick, doll-like lips. “You’ve done a lot of stupid things String, but this..” said her concerned, almost childlike, soft voice. Her eyes were glazed in a hint of despair but a glimmer of excitement was infused in to her bright blue eyes somewhere. Those same wide eyes watched as her best friend strapped the leather brace tighter to her body, attaching herself to the zip line so she hopefully wouldn't fall, although, the strap didn't provide much support. Cal just shook her head in disbelief, her golden locks of hair bouncing up and down in the movement.

ZOOM! Off went her beloved sister-like companion, String, flying through the stuffy District Ten air like a bird. Seeing her do this brought a slight smile to Cal’s glossed lips, her eyes brightening in excitement. Quickly, her small feet shuffled down the stairs of the platform, her worn blue sneakers being careful not to trip and send her tall, lanky frame tumbling head over heels to the ground. Cal tipped her head up and watched as String made the most ungraceful landing on the next platform, kicking up large amounts of dust, dirt, and stones which came hurling downwards towards her as she hustled her light body along the thin dirt road. She used her thin, delicate fingers to shield her sparkling, sun drowned eyes, bending her rather odd eyebrows downwards in discomfort against the harmful spray.

She climbed the next set of stairs without trouble, practically flying up them to greet String. “A new speed record I think.” She recited with a bit of giddiness in her voice. It was met with the rather cocky nature of String, ending it with her second adopted nick name. “It’s cause I rock, babe.” The corners of her mouth twisted upwards with amusement. She takes her rather worn out, leather jacket and hangs it over her broad shoulders. “Let’s go to the ware house.” String suggests, not leaving her friend with a choice and starts walking away in the direction. Cal skips up beside her, her legs looking like twigs as she walks next to a better built String. The two friends walk together to their hiding place, both very different in appearance and personality, but strangely, oh so similar.

“You shouldn’t worry so much, babe,” said String as they walked, “I landed it didn’t I?” Cal giggled in her small voice and looked at her friend with a defeated gaze on her face. “Your right, I should trust you.” She said putting a thin arm around her friend. String had always told her how much she worried, but she guessed it was just in her nature. She never had a sister or brother or anything, so she felt like String was her sibling, and if she lost that sibling, she would be lost herself. They walked with their steps in sync along with their thoughts. It seemed String was her only friend; Cal never really out stretched her arms to anyone else besides her. She was a very shy girl when it came to meeting people, so she let them come to her, and not her go to them. A bubbly personality made her widely liked by people in her district, always happy and cheery despite her lack in companions, but she never let it get to her.

“I always wonder though, why are you such a dare devil?” asked Cal, sparking the conversation. It took String a moment to respond, but she eventually answered, “It’s instinct.” She was not much of a dare devil herself, her worried soul got in that way, but she wished she could be more of one. Go out on the limits and risk things. She wanted to feel the adrenaline pulse through her veins as she took a dive off a cliff, or flew down a thin wire on a zip line over rooftops of rundown houses and farms. Instead, she took the safe route, not only in reality, but through life. She never gossiped, or partied, or made many friends. She was just a good girl staying home and studying, if not, working on her next essay or book. Cal liked her way of life, she liked studying and learning. In fact, she was a very smart girl. She loved writing especially, coming up with creative tales of girl’s going on crazy adventures. She expressed her sense of adventure through her stories; it was her source of an adrenaline rush.

“You’ve always been such a risk taker; I wish I was more like you, String.” She said sweetly, the childish side of coming out through her voice, as if saying to her mother that she wants to grow up and be just like her. “Oh babe, don’t get ahead of yourself, your great just as you are.” explained String as if she was her mother. A smile flashed across her face, her teeth glowing against the brightness of day. Dependent was always a way to describe Cal as well. She always had to have a shoulder to cry on, or a laugh to laugh a long with. He parents had provided that when she was a child, but as she grew, they knew they had to detach themselves from her as well in fears she would never let go of their hand’s.

Cal felt she needed a hand to hold her’s as she passed through life, but her parent’s wouldn’t give her that. When String finally came along, Cal felt relieved she provided that warm, needed hand. She really looks up to String like a big sister, despite them being the same age, and Cal being slightly taller than her. She really did act like a child sometime, foolish comments and getting distracted easily. She even laughed at herself sometimes for these actions. It was just her though; she couldn’t help her god given personality!

Cal and String reach the ware house hand in hand. They both use all their strength to pry open the big metal doors to reveal a single, huge dark and quite musty room with dust filling every corner, causing Cal to let out a couple strong coughs. Due to her weak lungs, she usually can’t handle much dust, but she has dealt with the coughing because even though this ware house seems quite depressing and eerie, hidden in a corner are a couple worn, but clean navy couches, with a couple lamps flooding the small square space with a pale luminesce and a small red and black patterned carpet, nuzzled in between the two couches. The two made their way there and both sat down on their own couch, Cal laying on her stomach and head in her hands, waiting for String to speak.

Seeing she wasn’t about too, Cal took her chance. “Remember how we met String?” she said quite sweetly in her small voice. String nodded yawning, and sitting back against the arm of the loved couch, stretching her feet out in front of herself. “Why don’t you tell me again Cal.” She suggested placing her hands behind her head, a small smile creeping upon her plump lips. Cal let out a big smile, showing her bright white teeth which reflected the light in the lamp. “Well, before I met you, I was really lonely remember? My parents always bought me toys and dolls to play with, I had no need for friends,” She began taking a look back into her past. It was all true; Cal was born into a very small family and was always treated quite respectfully and well. Her parents dealt in the far business, and a wealthy one at that. They owned a huge plot of land in the eastern District and grew various crops such as corn, barley, basil, and cabbage. They always made a huge profit and were able to hire workers to maintain it while they lived a bit further away in the town. No, they weren’t filthy rich capitolites, but they had enough to pay bills, pay for food, and have enough left over for personal uses.

“I loved the dolls though String, Emily and Julia and Mary, they were my sisters before.” exclaimed Cal, her inner child bursting like popcorn from its kernel. Emily Julia and Mary were the three dolls she adored, Each one having a soft, fabric body and head, each eyes, glimmering black buttons and their lips delicately sewn with a baby pink thread. She loved their yarn hair as well, Emily black, Julia blonde, and Mary ginger. Cal enjoyed putting them in pig tails and ponytails, even braiding them. Those dolls were her world as a toddler and young child. As the years passed though, different needs started to appear. She had gotten bored of playing the puppeteer and wanted a real friend, the problem was, she felt to shy to go out and ask anybody to play with her.

“Oh String! I was so shy! It was so difficult for me to speak to another girl or boy. I was so used to my dolls, why couldn’t I just be brave and speak out?” complained Cal, getting a little emotional. String just sat back and watched a sympathetic look on her face. Cal pushed a lock of hair out of her face, her lips curving downwards in a disappointed frown. She could never hold a friend when she made one. Never did she find a true friend until String. Occasionally, she had a ‘best friend’ for more than a week, but that was it. They always left her for another girl, one less odd and reserved. It hurt her parents to see their daughter with no friends, so they attempted making some for her at well, but no friend ship ever lasted long for her.

“Then String, when I was about ten, I met you! I felt like you were different than the other girls, I felt like I had a connection with you, like almost a sister-like connection.” She explained, the pride in her voice growing like flower blooming. The more sophisticated part of her was expressed through this, the childish part of her fading away quite quickly as she spoke. Yes, she was at the ripe age of ten years when she had first met String. String was the first one to speak, asking if she wanted to go exploring with her. Taking the new friend opportunity, Cal fled with her new best-friend to the forests where String spent the day teaching Cal how to climb trees and what not.

Cal was overjoyed to see String’s interest in her, she almost exploded with joy as their friend ship held for over a month. Months faded to years and years faded to, well, more years! By age fourteen, they were sisters, bonded by appreciation rather than blood. That fourteenth year of Cal’s existence though, something grave happened. Her father had fallen ill from pneumonia, a deadly illness that almost always meant certain death in their poor district. Cal fell, her diversity and happiness fell like falling glass. It finally hit the dark floorboards of loss and shattered into a million pieces when her father finally passed away one June evening. It hit Cal hard, she locked herself in her room for days on end, refusing to speak to anybody or even eat. String and Cal’s mother had brought her food and drink, only to find it sitting outside her wooden door, untouched, the next morning.

One week, String got the chance to sit down and talk to Cal, of course, not expecting any words in return. The girl looked like a complete wreck. She was bone thin and her eyes had sunken in, making her face skeletal like. Her skin had faded to a very pal white and her hair in knots and knots. String had talked her into eating, and soon, speaking and leaving her room. Gradually, with the help from String and her mother, they molded Cal back to her usual, childish, bubbly self. It was hard long work, taking about a month, but Cal was back up running.

The incident had changed her almost, a new person forming from her old body, making her stronger. It was like a butterfly breaking from its cocoon, spreading its newly developed, thin and fragile wings, and flying off to the skies, in which referred to Cal’s life. Nothing very important happened after the new Cal blossomed. Her and String have the greatest bond ever, dealing through the occasional misunderstand, disagreement, and holding strong through every reaping. Honestly, they are sisters for life, almost seems as if no one can break their seams.