d1 // Olivia "Ollie" Ocanas [DONE]

name Olivia "Ollie" Ocanas
age Eighteen
district District One
gender Female
occupation Companion

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Blackbird singing in the dead of night

”I don’t know where I am.”

It was a hoarse whisper, no more than a slither of the words being breathed into the air around me. “I don’t know where I am.” I repeat, again another whisper, my eyes widening as I step further down the streets. I don’t know here I am. Idon’tknowhereIam… I don’t know. I knew where I was a few minutes ago. I’m sure of it. A small frown tugs at my delicate features, pulling my eyebrows down over those dark brown eyes. I shrug of that pestering feeling of doubt. Of course I hadn’t been here before, I’d have remembered. Wait no. I do remember! ”I do know where I am!” I laugh delighted, my feet picking up speed as I skip down the next road, turning left and then right. The streets of District One were rather confusing at times, more so when you were as careless as I was. I was always getting lost and always forgetting. Normally I remember everything clearly, but sometimes memories disappeared from my mind, just one here or there. Nothing to worry about, just annoying, really.

”Ripred they are going to kill me.” I hurry forward, the lights of a bar coming into view. I hurry on, my feet patting lightly against the ground. I was supposed to be meeting some people here, tonight for dinner. Ever since mother passed away father was always going out now. At first he stayed with me, hugging me and holding me and telling me that everything would be alright. But then he kind of started slipping away, as I grew older he grew more distant. It was about that same time I started forgetting most of my childhood, large gaps in my memories. They weren’t that big, I don’t think so, anyway. More like a forgotten name here and just little things. And other times I’d forget what I did last week, but then most people do! Well I think I was forgetting stuff, I mean maybe I’m just a forgetful person. I am awfully clumsy, smart, but rather odd in that way. I do, however, remember every little thing about my mother, she was a hard person to forget about. Well sometimes I’m not sure I’m seeing her, sometimes the image fades and I find myself staring into the face of a woman almost the same as my own. Then it fades and I’m staring at my mother.My parents, love me.

The bar holds only a few scattered groups of people. No one is talking loudly and it looks like a rather sombre place. I ignore the few glances that are thrown my way and I head to a well-lit table. My father looks up as I approach. “Oh gods Ollie, where have you been?” I grin, my teeth flashing in two perfect, neat little rows. “Oh, you know doing stuff.” My grin widens as I reply with a small shrug. Before I sit down my dad hops up and opens his arms. I lean forwards and we embrace, he hugs me tightly and I hug him back. We had grown distant, barely talking to each other anymore, but we still loved each other. I was his daughter and he was my father and I loved him and I knew he cared a hell of a lot for me. We were still close in that way, just not in others. I didn’t live with him anymore. I was staying with another family at the moment. Something was keeping me there, and stopping me from leaving. I took care of the two kids that lived there, maybe it was because they had no mother and I knew what that was like. But I didn’t mind it, that much. I wanted to travel one day, though. Explore the world; well explore it as much as anyone bound to a district could.

I sit down, tugging my jacket off, to reveal a high collared floral dress. It was red, covered in little flowers. It had a black, little, collar that went all the way up to surround my neck. My dark brown hair was in a messy bun, a few strands falling down to frame my round face. Smiling I turn my attention to the man sitting opposite my father. He smiles in return and I offer him my hand. We shake. He had black, straight hair; A cut, well scar, right across part of his forehead. His eyes were blue and rather cold. His smile was charming, but something about it warned me away. He was an older man, and so the haircut on his head looked rather young for someone of his age. “Ollie this is my friend Dexter – we work together, Dexter this is my daughter Clara.” I nodded politely, withdrawing my arm back to my side. “Nice to meet you, Dexter. “ He smiles, and looks at my father, ”You forgot to mention how pretty your daughter was, Martin.” The comment makes me look away, a cold chill spreading through me. I did not like that.

That is when I spot him. At first my gaze slides over him, but it is instantly drawn back. The perplexed frown on my forehead deepens and I stare at him, some part of my memory trying to tug forwards this familiar feeling that flows through me. He looks so familiar. He wore an odd style of clothing, a faintly amusing style of clothing if I was being honest. The weirdest thing was tied around his neck. A bowtie. The word shimmers into existence and I have to force myself to not giggle. What was a bowtie? I’d never heard of that before, but I must have seeing as it was right here before me, sitting right around the neck of that long necked giraffe. The clothes were old fashioned, if you could call it that. What I meant was that they seemed to be drained of the style and the kind of ragged, tight look that clung to the people of the district now. What was more there was this odd sense of power wafting from him, as though he wasn’t a resident of the district. I shrug, forcefully removing my eyes from him. Still frowning I turn my attention back to the conversation in front of me, but after a few more seconds of pondering this mysterious man I can’t help, but look again. And this time I stare, giving him a long hard look. I wonder if he notices my eyes basically burning into him. If he does, he says nothing. If I was being honest with myself, I’d have to say I was a tad disappointed that he did not look at me, or that he did not talk to me. I wanted him to notice me. For some reason I wanted to hear him speak, to feel that sense of familiarity vanish or strengthen.

I sigh.

I swear I’ve seen him before. I’m not lying. I’m not. I have, I really have, and I promise you that. I turned back, and carelessly I ask father if he knew the man. I did not mind that had just interrupted their entire conversation. This was far more important and besides I was burning to know and father might enlighten me, if I was lucky. And to my own surprise he did. He laughed and so did Dexter. They laughed, they said “of course we know who he is, love. Everyone knows who he is.” Of course that made no sense to me. I blinked back at them, annoyance prickling me as they turned back to the conversation, were they not going to tell me? I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest. Father spared a slight grasp, a grin touching is face before responding back to a comment Dexter had made. My patience was wearing thinner and thinner by the second; I was so ready to yell at them to spit out a name and to just tell me. Couldn’t they see I wanted to know? It was like they knew I knew him and they thought I was being silly. I didn’t know him. I think. Whenever I try to pull the memory from my mind it slips away from my grasp. I’ll have it right there in front of me, both hands outstretched, brown eyes screwed up in concentration as I reached for it. But it was always the same; the memory would run from me as soon as I made a move for it. Yet I’m sure I had seen him before, you know not the way most people see him, like I’d actually spoken to him and talked to him and been around him. I didn’t know him, I don’t think anyone could ever know him.

Exasperated I look at him again, just in time to see him get up, slide some money across the counter and straighten that infuriating bowtie of his. He leaves the bar. I turn to the people I’m sitting with shrugging off that feeling that there was something I was forgetting, once more. It wasn’t going to come to me, it never did when I forced it to, but then when I forgot about it, it never did come to me as well. All I got were headaches. I turn my attention back to my father and his friend, and this time I adopt an interested look, as though I completely understood what they were talking about. It was hard trying to concentrate on the strained conversation they were having on boats. Boats? No, wait, it was on district Four. Yes, not boats. I think. I didn’t know anymore, and I did not care. My father looks at me and I raise an eyebrow asking him ”what?” He shakes his head as though it was as he had expected. Then it hits me.
”Detective.”

The name rolls of my tongue. And I know, I just know that that is him. Then I’m up and I’m on my feet, my hands fumble over my jacket and I take off after him. My father calls my name, but I ignore him as I shove the door open and step into the cold night air. Then I halt, my mind spinning, trying to figure out which way he went. “DETECTIVE.” I cry, frantically I look left and right, I step to the right and then with a flick of my head I turn left and dash off down the nearest street. It was blind luck that lead me to the street where he was. I stop my mad dash, slowing to a jog until he is a few feet away. ”Detective?” I take a step closer. “Do I know you?” The Detective turns around, and looks at me as if considering the question. I swallow, that gnawing feeling biting at me once more. "How can you not know if you know me or not. Isn't it you who knows what you know, besides the fact that yes, you do."

I stare it him, momentarily dumbfounded. Then I slowly say, ”okay then.” A brief awkward pause follows. "So if I know you then how come I don't remember you at all, but you feel so familiar, and also that bowtie is rather odd, don't you think? I like it though, although you look a bit long-necked with it. No maybe that is just your neck. You have a big neck" Normally I would have been horrified by what I had just said, but this time I simply just stare at the man in front of me. "Interesting. I wonder if you know that you said that exact thing about my bow tie the last time we met? It seems that you don't, which could mean you are not who I think you are, which would be rather odd because then who are you?" He says, then, "my neck is lovely." I open my mouth to apologies, but instead I laugh as he pokes his tongue out at me.

Holding back another small laugh I manage to say, "I did? Ripred I must be losing my mind. And me? I'm just plain old me, nothing special at all, just Ollie Ocanas." I offer him my hand, that seemed like a good enough introduction for me. Especially seeing as it was between two people who had already met before, apparently. "We have meet then? That is good to know. And your neck is nice, just a tad bit too long, a bit like your chin, you know?" I continue, regardless of the rude comments. "Ollie you say? Not the name you gave me last." The statement perplexes me, how could it not be the same? I shrug, my mind already flipping and shoving away this new information. The Detective grips my hand, shaking it, an edge of curiosity enters his motions and I find myself in the same situation; curious. He flips my palm over, his eyes looking intently at it as though it would give him answers. "You, miss Ocanas, are a mystery. Shall I solve it?”

"Yes, Ollie. If we had met then why would I give you a different name? I have never forgotten my name before. That is what father says, I’m a mystery wrapped in shadows." I offer him a small smile. "The mystery is the best part, though."

"I quite agree, I quite agree...." He considers me for a few moments, gaze intent. "How are you at that, mystery solving, that is... Miss Ollie."

"Me?" I drop my gaze, pondering this odd question. "I think... I think that a mystery is a mystery and that without some way of solving it, and knowing the truth behind that mystery life can be rather dull. But then there are those mysteries better left unsolved, Detective."

"Aha, I quite disagree with you. In a roundabout way, I agree with the first bit you said, that was lovely, however, there are no mysteries that are better left unsolved Miss Ollie. Unsolved mysteries are annoying and need to be solved, that's why they are mysteries in the first place, and they can be solved. Would you like me to solve you?"

I look at him intently, unable to take my eyes off of him, a slight frown tugs at my face. "You are an odd man, very strange." I give him a small, shy, smile. "I would." I reply, because I was a twisted tangled mess and the idea of having someone solve that and figure that out was a pleasant one. "I get that a lot," he grins, "Come with me Ollie Ocanas, I will show you things you never even knew you wanted to know in the first place. I will find your answers." He grips my hand, and I find myself gripping his, holding it tightly. And I can’t help myself but smile, because maybe mysteries were meant to be solved, and I was ready to solve mine.

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free
Blackbird fly, blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night