Anglers Guide to Intricate Conversation // Dylan

Solitude was solidified until the sound of weighted footsteps, as if all the world hung on the person's shoulders, came by and past. She was unsure, and a little afraid. She only see the back of him, even as he passed. She wanted to greet him, talk to him. See who he was. She enjoyed that. But he was clearly in no mood to talk to a stranger at this time of the day. Her eyes followed him to the edge of the cliff, where she now began to worry for him. She stood, and was about to...

... It didn't matter now. He was falling.

"No!" She gasped. He was out of sight. No words can describe the noise of him slipping, falling and the splash. It happened so fast and a sudden rush of guilt erupted her body into action. Adrenaline kicked in. Reaction and response. Her legs moved straight to the edge to assess the situation. Ripples, and only ripples could be seen. Some rocks were still falling like little pebbles into a river. Her hands were shaking but so was her inner-self. Shaking at the thought of leaving him to his fate.

She see a way to get down but it was treacherous. Perfect, nothing she couldn't handle. She follows a slippery descent left by the man, or boy. It feels almost wrong going down, and down. But she has to. A sudden lack of grip, and her whole body is plummeting down a diagonal slope. It leaves her at the very small shoreline, only around a meter or two to move. A couple of grazes on her arm, but nothing adrenaline couldn't block.

She recovers quickly, only a minute or two had even passed. And just like a lifeguard she delves into the shallow, which suddenly become deeper and deeper. She could barely see in this light. The sun was almost down, and everything was amber. Or was it blood? She shivered at the thought. But she delved into the thick, salty water. Her hands find things that aren't the man. Stones, maybe even fish. She goes deeper.

And finds a boot. Was it his?

The bottom was too far for her to go, so she knew she only had a matter of time before he beat her to it. So she kicked off of the edge of the shore with her feet and she is able to reach the boy. Losing her breath, she tries to bring him out. She isn't very strong in comparison to Careers, but she could do this. It was like pulling a stack of crates.

It was relentless. But soon, the boy was on the small shoreline with Sabrina. She checks for a pulse.

Like a light echo of a tormented voice, the pulse is faint. The boy was strong to have lived through this. She would admire that if she had the time. She didn't know what to do when a person had a pulse. Half of her was hoping he didn't so she at least knew what to do. Now, he is just unconscious. Was he? She could feel his breath as she tried to listen to his heart. Was it stopping?

She didn't know.

Suddenly, his breath moves her hair in one swift release and she gets back from his chest and looks at him with a smile. "It's okay, it's okay! You're safe." She was half tempted to put on a different accent than her own. People rarely choose to trust it since it is literally a Capitol Accent. (sounding more English than American). But she uses it anyway. She didn't think hiding the reality was a good thing to do anyway.

She is eager to see why he would have went so close to the edge. She knew it was slippery, she's been here many times before. She was afraid of the edge until now.

For some sick reason this reminded her of the times she would refuse to go to school because she had a bad day. Her Father would provide some tough love saying; "Don't go then, see how you end up." She ended up passing all her classes.

"Thanks for saving my life, Sabrina!" She says with a smile, clearly joking. She was quite oblivious to why he would have went that close. She began to care less for why and wanted more to get him fixed up. She didn't like seeing people hurt. There was a girl a day or two ago who had fell and hurt her ankle and couldn't walk. Sabrina helped her all the way to the market and even gave her a walking stick borrowed from an elderly gentleman.

She means well, Sabrina. She genuinely doesn't sound very snide, and definitely more positive than the typical sixteen year old. Most are careers. Perhaps her and him are the only non-careers in the district.

She takes from her pocket a tissue, not used. She goes to tend to the wound to the right of his left eye. She wasn't sure whether the salt would do harm or not. Maybe it would help, maybe it wouldn't. She was hoping to clean it, if he'd let her. It should be clear than she means to help and not harm, that maybe she would be his friend.

Her Father always told her to keep true to herself, and keep positive. She looks at this boy and all she sees is an empty shell of what could have been greater. "People tend to miss the pearls in the oyster." She continues tending to the wound, concentrating more on it than anything else really. She didn't mean much by what she said, but she gets a feeling that he may think more of it than she did.

"You may want to rethink going to sleep early tonight. This may interfere..." She says that in a way that avoids saying it may kill him. She isn't necessarily stupid. He didn't notice her on the way there, and didn't convince her that he had truly fallen.

She doesn't smile. She looks a little frightened. She seems greatly affected by the change in personality. Change in memory, even. It scares her. Her Father began to lose his personality as he neared death. He died of an uncontrollable issue with his brain. Well, it was controllable. But only by the Capitol, and they obviously didn't help. She frowns at him, leaving the wound be for now. Her fear was only apparent in her face. She didn't shake and she didn't squirm. Although she didn't like this kind of scene, it did not scare her. She was resilient to whatever pain was visible, really. Besides this.

"I ..." She seemed unaware of what to do. She didn't want to frighten him, and didn't want to tell him he had just jumped, or fell. "You were just by the edge and a hovercraft came overhead. You didn't see or hear it, and you ..." She looks around her, the fear easing off as she gets more into a believable story. "... Well, let's just say you're here now. I wouldn't touch your head too hard, it's a little rusty."