SAGE ORION | DISTRICT SEVEN | WIP

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Calloused hands were shaking when he finally stopped running, heavy breaths of air falling from those thin lips of his. He pushed his chocolate locks out of his face, and covered his mouth to hide the sounds of the out-of-breath seizures when his brown irises saw the dark silhouettes getting closer. Had they seen his face? He didn't think so, not a good one, at least. Sage had one of those typical faces, round features, lazy eyebrows, and a short, thick nose. The most notable facial feature he had was his crooked smile. so easily brought out of him.

One of the men stopped, Sage guessed it was both because he was out of shape and he needed to take a moment to survey his surroundings. Had it not been night time, had the sun been shining, Sage's hiding spot behind a crate of apples only two feet tall and not much wider would have been laughable. But when the stars were out, he was a shadow behind the thing, as still as a deer when it first sensed danger. He was tired, he could admit it. Even all the time spent running in the woods had not been enough to prepare him for running this far this quickly. He guessed he had already ran five or six miles since the two peacekeepers started chasing him. At first he knew he was caught, that he should have listened to the twins when they told him to be more cautious when selling those traps of his.

Only the sound of deliberate silence filled the air as the man listened, before jogging up to meet his friend and disappearing from Sage's line of vision. He wasted no time bolting in the opposite direction, strong legs grown so weak from the running already accomplished that each step felt like he was being stabbed with pins. His core burned, but he only pushed harder and harder until he was far enough away that he felt safe. He was safe.

Once home, he ran upstairs and pulled the black, form fitting shirt that was currently soaked in sweat over his shoulders, and took a cold shower. The water made it hard for him to breath at first, and he almost thought he was going into shock, but eventually it cooled him down and made him realize just how sleepy he was. Once out, he wrapped himself up with a towel, and walked into his room. When he opened his closest, most of which was filled with bland colors and earth tones, he grabbed only underwear and soft cotton pants. He collapsed on his bed, with one final thought crossing his mind before drifting to sleep. "I hope they didn't follow me."

Having an opinion has always been important to Sage. Maybe it was because he was always able to see the stupidity of things, and how they could be prepared when nobody else seemed to be able to. His mother called him a free spirit, and that was what he was. He was himself. And he wasn't changing that for anyone. He was stubborn, sure, and he was as hardheaded as they came. He couldn't talk to girls his age without making a fool out of himself. (Which was a known and very hated issue.) It seemed like every time he tried to do something that was really cool in his head, it came out dreadful and awkward. Like right now, as he and his brothers walked to school. They laughed at him as he tried to joke with a girl in his homeroom class. His actions were futile and he knew it.

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other

codeword: ---
lyrics: "king and lionheart" by of monsters and men
palette: dried basil
face claim: steven r. mcqueen

and as the world comes to an end
I'll be here to hold your hand
cause your my king
and I'm your lion heart