we bleed for ourselves | (thundy) | Hunger Games: The RPG

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we bleed for ourselves | (thundy) Dec 18, 2013 14:50:59 GMT -5

Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Dec 18, 2013 14:50:59 GMT -5

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h a r p e r levesque

this is how an angel flies
I blame it on my own sick pride
I blame it on my a.d.d. baby
sail, sail, sail

I was all alone.

Not literally. In reality, people swarmed around me like hungry sharks, but I felt completely alone. Once, I had Mayson to hold me during the night, finally someone that was looking out for me and I pushed him away just like everyone else I have ever cared about. People like me didn't deserve to be happy, because all people like me ever did was break things that we got our hands on. I wanted to be different, but there was no room for caring about others in my life. In fact, I was specifically taught that things like love and affection were myths that could only distract me from power. I trained to become the best, and I thought I was doing a more than decent job, but I was beginning to wonder if this life was the one I should have lived. Each year, I grew older, and my chances of being reaped both increased and lessened all at the same time. My time was running short, and I couldn't help wondering what would become of me if I managed to grow too old for the games. Most became trainers if they were lucky, others drove themselves insane, and honestly neither of the choices sounded very appealing to me. Maybe I wasn't meant to be a machine, built to kill and to win. Maybe I was meant to be a human.

The blades cut through the air with a whistle, and stabbed into target after target with a dramatic thud. They all made their mark accurately and with precision, but I hardly noticed. My mind was swimming with questions, and I couldn't shake them away. After a few more throws, I grew bored and decided to just run for the rest of the allotted time around the center. It seemed to help, not much, but it cleared my thoughts enough for me to focus, so I pushed myself as hard as I could. Speed was my strength, and no arena could take that away from me like those who happen to be particularly skilled with a specific weapon. Unless they cut my legs off, which actually wouldn't surprise me all that much, I would always be a step ahead of everyone else. When the buzzer sounded in the corner of the room I came to a quick stop and rested my hands on my knees.

I took a shower in the center, and then quickly left, eager to put some distance between myself and the place. Training was a necessary evil. Some districts didn't have the privilege, but it was like school, only we got swords and spears instead of books and pencils. I always felt trapped within the walls that echoed with the sounds of grunts and angry punches on plastic, and swords flying, and being there and doing the same thing every day bored me.

The air never smelled too much like salt in the colder months, which was a bit sad because it was one of my favorite scents. Instead, the smell of cooking meat invaded my senses and made my mouth water. I located the source, a small restaurant with only a couple of tables that were covered with checkered cloth and two waitresses that looked equally pleasant. One was older, with her salt and pepper hair pulled back in a ponytail like my own raven locks, and the other was only a few years older than me with twin braids of blonde falling past frail shoulders. The sound of something frying filled the room when the door behind the counter was opened, and I decided I liked the place. There weren't very many people around, but the entire shop only had five tables. Four of them were occupied, either by a mother and a small child or older couples. I took the last one, and had just ordered a burger when the door opened once more. A boy walked in and rested his hands on the counter. He spoke to the waitresses like he knew them and then one nodded in my direction. "Looks like your table is being used already. But I am sure this young lady wouldn't mind sharing?" The older one said, and I didn't realize she was talking about me until all three of them were looking at me.

His table? What, was it reserved, or was he like the old men that claimed specific benches belonged to them because they typically sat there? I resisted scoffing and nodded. "He can sit here, I guess." He had blonde hair and a square jaw. He was tall, and definitely attractive, but that didn't mean anything. I was just being nice, and that was all I was going to do. "I'm Harper, by the way." As long as we were sitting next to each other, we might as well have gotten acquainted.

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^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

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we bleed for ourselves | (thundy) Dec 18, 2013 23:03:01 GMT -5

Post by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] on Dec 18, 2013 23:03:01 GMT -5

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Broke every window
In my hotel heart

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A bitter ocean wind cut into the shores of District Four early that morning, but Hero was awake and braving the weather, not entirely by choice. His goal was simple: find a house empty of its inhabitants and find a way in to find something, anything that might help him eat or stay warm over the next few days. His ragged blue jeans were torn and scattered with holes, snagged by fishing lures and worn almost beyond repair. He had been thinking on patching them up himself with a bolt of cloth or two (which he didn’t have) and a needle and thread (which he also didn’t have) but the only way he could imagine that happening was if he brought his pants into the training center to sew up during his free time – which he didn’t really have much of, either. So his pants remained in their tired state, and until he found a new pair that happened to fit, he would just have to deal with what he had. Plus, there was a good deal of strategy behind finding a good pair of pants. He had to find a house that was empty, so he had to know who lived there and if they worked and if they had any children that might be home to catch him in the act. He also had to find a house that wasn’t too fancy, ‘cause the rich folks were always laying around and doing nothing, and the things they wore were too nice for a guy like Hero. If he tried to put on those fancy men’s pants and walked down the street with them, someone would immediately call him out on it – as a thief or as a moron, one of the two.

Hero didn’t necessarily like having to steal from people, but he didn’t exactly feel bad about it either – that much he would admit. The rich people could deal with a missing pair of pants, so he didn’t feel bad about them. Mostly he felt bad about the people who weren’t as well off, the people who went out to work on the waves during the day, leaving their ramshackle homes unattended and (sometimes) unlocked, leaving the poor boy an opportunity to raid their cabinets for crackers and their bedroom drawers for shirts and pants and anything else that might be useful.

Only that morning, not many people were roaming the streets. Perhaps it was the bitter cold or that harsh wind pulling in from the South, but the homes were all lit up, fireplaces dancing with flame and sending identical columns of smoke into the air. And if there was a fire burning in the hearth, there was someone there to tend to it, meaning that his efforts would be pointless until people decided to go outside and meet the cold. For that reason alone, he found himself walking towards his only real hope for a meal: a small, obscure restaurant that would sometimes offer him a free meal. He knew a few of the people that worked there, and if he asked nicely they would sometimes offer him something to eat, or a free cup of coffee during the winter, or just a place to sit for a while when he didn’t feel like going home.

When he walked into the restaurant, his eyes immediately flickered to the girl who happened to be sitting at his usual table, then scanned the other tables to see if there was anywhere else to sit. Dejectedly, he realized that every one of them was taken, so he walked up to the counter and nodded at a waitress who knew him by name. ”Any free tables soon?” he asked, eyebrows raised and hands clenched against the side of the counter. He couldn’t bring himself to smile, but he felt like the situation called for it – anyone desperate enough for a meal would at least be polite to the lady that would decide whether or not he would have something to eat that day. Regardless, his expression remained solemn as she shook her head. ”Nah, everyone just got in. Looks like your table is being used already. But I am sure this young lady wouldn't mind sharing?” He interpreted that as, okay, sit down and we’ll give you a meal (‘cause they all knew he couldn’t pay) and the waitress nodded to the girl he had noticed earlier. He turned to look, and immediately considered leaving. He had expected it to be some sort of working-class girl, someone pudgy-faced and dirt-covered who would nod in his direction and ignore him completely even as they sat across from each other, but no. No, this girl was a Career – and a wealthy one, by the looks of her training clothes – who looked displeased by the idea of sitting next to him.

"He can sit here, I guess," she said, not smiling but thankfully not refusing the seat. He awkwardly pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning back as she introduced herself. She looked like a typical kind of Career girl, dark-haired and toned, pretty enough to make her dangerous. That is, dangerous for those who might come across her in an Arena; surely he wouldn’t be affected by it.

”Hero,” he said, aware of how odd his name sounded. People commented on it almost every day, usually with something like ”You’re kind of an asshole to be named Hero,” which, to be fair, was probably true.

”The usual?” the waitress asked him, and he nodded. She shuffled away, but not without first – not subtly – staring at the two of them with a long smile as if she’d just created some sort of friendship and done something wonderful for the world.

Hero would have been inclined to remain completely silent, but he felt a pressure to keep talking, what with the girl introducing herself and all. He stumbled for a moment, wondering where to begin. ”So, uh. Harper, huh? What’s your deal?”

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we bleed for ourselves | (thundy) Dec 19, 2013 0:09:04 GMT -5

Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Dec 19, 2013 0:09:04 GMT -5

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h a r p e r levesque

this is how an angel flies
I blame it on my own sick pride
I blame it on my a.d.d. baby
sail, sail, sail

"Hero," The boy claimed, and I stifled a laugh, but not in time to keep myself from the small smile that grew across my lips. I almost questioned him until he spoke again. "”So, uh. Harper, huh? What’s your deal?" I had always been quick in more ways than one. A quick runner, quick to anger, and quick to respond, but his words caught me off guard and I felt blood rushing to my cheeks. "Excuse me? What is my deal?" I asked, and sat up straighter n my seat.

He had a toned body, one that could easily belong to a career, and his pale blue eyes were filled with hardship, but I wasn't entirely convinced. After getting a closer look at him, I guessed he lived in one of the more humble homes in the district. His clothes were tattered and worn, and his cheeks were slightly sunken in, an effect I had seen before in those that often didn't have enough to eat every night. If my parents were here they would scoff at him, maybe even point and laugh, but material objects meant nothing unless you knew how to use them.

I had gotten lucky, and had been born into one of the more wealthy families, ones that could afford things like tutoring in school, or night classes at the training center on weekends, and I guessed the fact that I didn't care for any of it made me a bad person, but it all seemed like bullshit to me. I looked at him, feeling the bitter edge that I typically used on unknown people grow stronger, and my eyes cut into his, unafraid of the mystery within them. He was handsome, maybe even a step up from that, and it irritated me for some reason. "I don't have a deal." My hands clenched into fists.

"What is your deal, Hero?" I said his name in a mocking sort of way. When looking at him, Hero seemed like the perfect name. He was confident and self-assured, and he was good looking to boot, but after only a few words I was beginning to doubt him. I was known for being over-dramatic, and for a second I wondered if that was the case now, but after playing what had happened out in my head, I couldn't find any place where I had been rude. I had allowed him, a complete stranger, to sit in front of me while the waitresses talked to him like he owned the place, and he returned the favor by acting like I had some sort of disease. I focused on my breathing, just in case he hadn't meant to sound like a dick, but I was fairly certain he had. They always did.

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Last Edit: Dec 19, 2013 0:10:12 GMT -5 by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]
Retired Staff

6,346 POSTS
Pronouns: He/Him
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we bleed for ourselves | (thundy) Dec 19, 2013 1:26:15 GMT -5

Post by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] on Dec 19, 2013 1:26:15 GMT -5

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Broke every window
In my hotel heart

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Harper smiled the moment she heard his name, which wasn’t surprising – most people found it odd, if not just a tad bit ironic. A second later, however, that smile faded and was replaced by an offended look, and he realized that a normal person would probably see his question as a tad blunt. But that’s just how Hero was, so when the girl went on the defensive he didn’t exactly jump to explain himself. He listened to her with eyebrows raised coolly, wondering – apart from perhaps his harsh tone of voice (which was actually pretty typical of him) – what on earth she was offended by. She sat up a little taller, situating herself in a way that suggested power, pride, entitlement, looking like a queen on her throne staring down at some lowly peasant. He could have said something, could have shaken his head, maybe smiled a bit to clear up his rotten excuse of a first impression, but he reminded himself that he didn’t really care. In his world, that was the thing about first impressions: they were the last impressions, too. He likely wouldn’t see this girl again anytime soon – or maybe ever, for District Four was a pretty big place – and it wasn’t his concern to avoid stepping on pretty girls’ feelings when they could so easily stand up for themselves, as Harper was currently demonstrating. If anything, her reaction was a welcome change; it was nice having someone actually challenge him for once.

”I don’t have a deal,” she said, looking a little irritated. It hadn’t even occurred to him that his question might come off as someone insulting. What did she think he meant? Hey, nice to meet you.. what’s wrong with you? Now that he really thought about it, the miscommunication made sense – but he was having a bit of fun with it regardless.

”What is your deal, Hero?” she asked, emphasizing his name in a way that almost made him smirk. He leaned forward in his chair and tilted his head to the side in question, taking in the details of her face: a small nose, wild brown hair, and dark eyes whose gaze bore into him like a weapon that she had long ago learned to yield. He wondered where she came from, what she did, why she was there – hence why he asked, albeit somewhat bluntly – but he didn’t press her on that matter. Instead, he ran his hands through his hair and leaned back again.

”My deal?” he asked, smiling a little, accepting what seemed to be a challenge. ”Well, that kinda depends. You may have to be a little more specific.”

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we bleed for ourselves | (thundy) Dec 19, 2013 17:42:53 GMT -5

Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Dec 19, 2013 17:42:53 GMT -5

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h a r p e r levesque

this is how an angel flies
I blame it on my own sick pride
I blame it on my a.d.d. baby
sail, sail, sail

He smiled, and I gritted my teeth. No way in hell was I letting him get to me, so I took in a lungful of air, and counted to ten in my head. It actually helped a lot, and now instead of wanting to beat him up, I was just vaguely annoyed with him, and slightly challenged. I didn't like people opposing me. I was the queen. I was the ruler. I was in control. Anyone stupid enough to realize it too late usually ended with a bloody something, and a hurt ego. I tapped my fingernails against the surface of the table, a bit shocked that he spoke again. Could he not take a hint? "My deal?" I nodded slightly. "Yes, that's what I said."

I wasn't sure why, but my sarcasm always impressed me. Other people's sarcasm impressed me as well. It irritated me, but Hero seemed to have a lot of it pent up, and was more than willing to show me. "Well, that kinda depends. You may have to be a little more specific." I kept myself from rolling my eyes and folded my hands together. I spoke to him in careful tone, like a principal talking to a child that got sent to his office regularly, stern and desperate to get my point across but careful not to be rude. Queens had good manners. "Well, I was nice and let you sit here instead of on the floor like a dog," I added emphasis on the word dog so that he knew I wasn't entirely convinced he wasn't one. "And you have the audacity to ask me what my "deal" is?" I clicked my tongue and leaned back a bit in my seat. "Hardly seems fair." And I was right, it wasn't.

Hero might have been annoying, and he might have had boundary issues, but I was actually entertained. I wouldn't admit it to him, of course, but still, something about his confident edge was different from other boys my age, and it was irritatingly endearing. He had a half grin and it made him seem like some sort of mischievous villain, despite what his name claimed he was. His broad shoulders stood out against the old shirt he wore, which seemed to be a size too small, since it clung to him extremely tightly and made it easy to see his muscular core- wait, why the hell was I noticing all of that? I blushed slightly ad returned to the original glare I gave him, my dark eyes staring into his own light ones waiting for his next move.

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^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]
Retired Staff

6,346 POSTS
Pronouns: He/Him
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we bleed for ourselves | (thundy) Dec 19, 2013 19:12:52 GMT -5

Post by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] on Dec 19, 2013 19:12:52 GMT -5

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Broke every window
In my hotel heart

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The annoyance seemed to drip from her skin like sweat, leaving every feature of her face contorted into a frown that was admittedly not unattractive. She looked like a Career through and through, power-hungry and fighting for control of the situation even as he challenged her, sitting tall and tapping her fingers on the table as if counting off the seconds until he would leave her be. Every small action seemed cool and calculated: the way that she stifled a roll of her eyes, the careful pacing of her voice, how she uttered each word with precision. "Well, I was nice and let you sit here instead of on the floor like a dog," she replied, leaving him startled. To be sure, he was poor and not entirely clean and maybe not so nice either, but he was surprised at how strongly she retaliated against his remark – something that wasn’t even that derogatory, for once.

But that wasn’t all. She continued on, leaning back in her seat and clicking her tongue as if she were done with the conversation but couldn’t find a way out. ”And you have the audacity to ask me what me ‘deal’ is? Hardly seems fair.”

That last part caught Hero off guard, so he shook his head and leaned forward in his seat, frowning, unfortunately aware of how the words cut into him. He was also aware of the slight moment that her guise seemed to fall apart, a moment where she was looking not so much at his eyes but at the rest of him, but he didn’t much know what to think about it through his anger.

”Well, sweetheart, life isn’t fair sometimes. So excuse the fuck out of me if you think I need to be sitting on the floor like a dog, but this is probably going to be the only thing I eat today, and you’re gonna go back to your big, warm house somewhere and probably have yourself some chocolates. So don’t talk to me about fair.”

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we bleed for ourselves | (thundy) Dec 19, 2013 20:09:56 GMT -5

Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Dec 19, 2013 20:09:56 GMT -5

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h a r p e r levesque

this is how an angel flies
I blame it on my own sick pride
I blame it on my a.d.d. baby
sail, sail, sail

Once when I was a little girl, a boy named Dalvis beat me in a race. Speed was always my thing, and he had bested me at it. Outraged, I slapped him across the face, and he fell and hit his head on a tree stump. It knocked him out and he had to have his jaw wired shut and I had never felt more awful about something. Until right now, of course. "Well, sweetheart, life isn’t fair sometimes. So excuse the fuck out of me if you think I need to be sitting on the floor like a dog, but this is probably going to be the only thing I eat today, and you’re gonna go back to your big, warm house somewhere and probably have yourself some chocolates." Great. I would have liked to lie, to swear I had no idea that he didn't have much money, but I did. I knew just as easily as I knew it was cold outside; Careers were trained to pick up on every little detail. I bit my lip and leaned forward, a knot forming in my throat and my stomach suddenly feeling sick.

"I didn't mean to-" I cleared my throat and tried to look into his eyes, which was suddenly a bit harder to do now that he had made me realize how much of a bitch I was being. "I'm sorry. Really." I stole a glance at him from the corner of my eye, and I could easily see the hurt in his face. I genuinely felt bad for doing that to him, and I barely knew him. Maybe I wasn't as good a Career as I hoped. Luckily, before he could start up ranting again, or I could do something stupid to make him even more mad at me, the older waitress trotted over with my food on a tray. "Here you are, Dear!" She spoke in an overly pleasant voice, and I wondered if she had heard Hero and I bickering. "Thank you," I said as she walked away, then I looked back at him, then to my food, and back to him again. He eyed it hungrily, and before I could stop myself, I slid my fries over to him. Not much, but at least something to keep him while his own food was being prepared. I offered him a sheepish smile and hoped my offering was enough for him to forgive me.

"I promise I'm not always a bitch." I looked at him sincerely, even though I may have just lied to him yet again. There were times when I was nice, but the majority of the time I did tend to stomp on other people's feelings, even when I didn't mean to. I couldn't exactly say I hadn't meant to hurt Hero, because I had, just felt bad afterward because he really hadn't done anything to deserve it. "Well, I mean, there are moments at least." And I smiled at him.

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^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]
Retired Staff

6,346 POSTS
Pronouns: He/Him
last seen Nov 17, 2023 15:15:56 GMT -5

cozy, queer af

we bleed for ourselves | (thundy) Dec 20, 2013 19:25:56 GMT -5

Post by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] on Dec 20, 2013 19:25:56 GMT -5

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Broke every window
In my hotel heart

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That caught her off guard. She looked as if she were mentally backpedaling, biting her lip as her gaze lost a bit of its force. She leaned forward and quickly tried to recover, her voice softer than before as she said ”I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry, really” – but he couldn’t help but think about who she was: a Career, likely the kind of person who had been trained from a young age to manipulate and save face with ease. To be fair, Hero was a Career himself, but he had started learning later than most, and relied more on his brute force than whatever charm he didn’t pretend to have. Was she being genuine? Could he really believe her apology? He could see the way she tried to meet his gaze, and how embarrassed she looked.. but was that real? Hero couldn’t tell.

Before he could make up his mind about her, the waitress came up and dropped off a hamburger and fries in front of Harper with a chirpy ”Here you are, dear!” The waitress hardly looked at either of them as she dropped off the plate and walked away, but Hero had been about to ask her if his food was almost done. His stomach rumbled just thinking about having a warm meal that wasn’t tasteless. Hero looked at the hamburger the same way that Harper was looking at him: basically, by trying not to. He didn’t want to look desperate or pathetic or anything like that, as if he really was a dog who couldn’t wait for his food, but hunger was the one thing that he couldn’t really control.

A moment later, without asking, Harper pressed her fries towards him with a shy smile. He stared at her in surprise, then down at the fries, then back at her. ”I promise I’m not always a bitch,” she said, looking almost sincere. ”Well, I mean, there are moments at least.”

”Thank you,” Hero breathed, though he still wasn’t sure what to think. He supposed that it didn’t matter; he probably wouldn’t see her again after this, anyways. For now, he had a plate of fries in front of him – which he heartily started eating – and for that he was thankful. He ate a few of them (too quickly to be polite) but left most of them for her, considering that it was her food. When he left the fries alone, he nodded, unsure what to do now that she was, you know, being friendly. It was sort of a new experience for him – most people would usually just leave at that point.

But that smile of hers still remained, and she was looking at him steadily. He found that he was somehow smiling as well without even realizing it. ”Oh, yeah? You don’t seem too bad. But then you did give me fries.” And then he took another fry as if to prove his point.

~~Except really, he was hungry.~~

"Don't happen to have any of those fancy chocolates with you, do you?" he asked, grinning.

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warehouse

umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]
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we bleed for ourselves | (thundy) Dec 21, 2013 0:19:21 GMT -5

Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Dec 21, 2013 0:19:21 GMT -5

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h a r p e r levesque

this is how an angel flies
I blame it on my own sick pride
I blame it on my a.d.d. baby
sail, sail, sail

I had forgotten what it was like to be warm.

Not physically, but it seemed my core was a frozen mass of ice, and my heart pumped venom in the place of blood. I was a monster by most people's standards, just as much a mutt as those people cowered in fear over as they attacked innocent children in the arena. We were all made with the same purpose, and I had never really taken a step back and thought about how I must have looked to others, and I found myself in awe when I realized that this boy, as annoying as he had been, he did it. He made me take a step back and realize that I seemed like I wasn't human, just a soulless creature that had stolen the body of a once bright and energetic little girl and left her hollow. It scared me.

He seemed cautious, and I didn't blame him. (I couldn't even trust myself, how could I ever expect him to?) Still, he began picking at the fries, slowly, more slowly than I supposed he would have liked, and I wondered how long it would take him to realize I didn't plan on eating them. Seeing him, so desperate, it made something tick within me, and I was almost positive that my heart had finally began to feel again. I tightened my ponytail and rested my elbows on the table, beaming at him with a smile. He said I didn't seem too bad, and I almost scoffed, almost warned him to run before he realized just how wrong he was, but I bit my tongue, and let him continue speaking. "Not with me, no," I teased. "but you could always come over and get some."

Had I just invited him over? I could imagine the looks on my parents' faces, shocked and confused that I had brought a boy home at all, and on top of it, that he wasn't one of the snobby rich boys they hinted their want for me to marry some day. He was Hero. He was a boy trapped within a sick game called life, and he was fighting to win. I wasn't going to be the reason he lost. For once, I found myself craving adventure outside of the games, and for once, I was determined to take someone along with me.

"If you want, of course."

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^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]
Retired Staff

6,346 POSTS
Pronouns: He/Him
last seen Nov 17, 2023 15:15:56 GMT -5

cozy, queer af

we bleed for ourselves | (thundy) Dec 21, 2013 13:04:41 GMT -5

Post by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] on Dec 21, 2013 13:04:41 GMT -5

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Broke every window
In my hotel heart

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When Hero realized that Harper wasn’t about to start eating her fries, he began to eat faster. Not in the shoving-fries-into-his-face kind of way, but more steadily, confident in the fact that she didn’t stop him. To be sure, it had been a while since he’d had a meal like this (and it wasn’t even his meal yet) because he relied mostly on what he stole or what rations he could buy with the work he did in his spare time. Sometimes he might come home with a fish tucked away in a pocket of his pants, only it would have to be a small fish or else his boss would notice and fire him on the spot – maybe even turn him over to the Peacekeepers for good measure.

They weren’t supposed to eat the fish they caught, not generally speaking, but people did it anyway. Others had paid off the boss to turn a blind eye so they could take a few fish home for dinner every other night or so, but that was Hero’s problem: he didn’t even have the money to do something like that, ‘cause the boss charged more than was really necessary. What money he did make went into paying for everything else: clothes, wood for the fireplace to keep the house warm during the winter, medicine for his dad’s aching back, and meager rations of bread. He stole just about everything else: extra shoelaces, blankets, cans of vegetables, glue for fixin’ stuff – anything that could be useful, really. He always made a point never to steal anything of much worth, or else people would notice that something was gone. It made for a much smoother operation if he just went into a house and plucked a can of sweet corn out of the drawer and left. Just enough that people might wonder if they somehow misplaced something, but not enough for them to suspect mischief. It was difficult, to say the least, not to pluck other things from the houses. Hell, even more difficult not to just sit down and stay awhile, soaking in the excess warmth, ‘specially in the rich houses where people spent so much money on heat.

There was still that warm smile beaming at him from across the table. ”Not with me, no,” she began, that smile remaining. ”but you could always come over and get some.”

The only thing that really registered in Hero’s brain was, I wonder if her house is heated. But look at her! With that pretty white smile and those fancy training clothes – of course she had money. Of course her house would be warm. Maybe even clean, too, and Hero could only imagine that his presence would muck up the place somehow. Still..

”Can I? Is your house warm?” he asked, eyes hopeful, smile faltering in the place of something more grim. ”I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.” Too late, he realized the reality of the situation. ”But.. ah, crap – you were probably just trying to be polite. Nevermind. I’ll leave you be after I finish eating,” he said, looking down at his hands.

As if on cue, the waitress shuffled over and brought him a hamburger and a small cup of chicken noodle soup. Hero tore into the burger shamelessly, thankful for the heartiness of the protein. It was better than fish by about a hundred times, not that he had anything against fish. It was almost a requirement, in District Four, to like the taste of fish, and Hero didn’t have any qualms with it. Still, given the choice between a chunk of halibut and a burger, well.. there was no contest.

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warehouse

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we bleed for ourselves | (thundy) Dec 23, 2013 2:49:58 GMT -5

Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Dec 23, 2013 2:49:58 GMT -5

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h a r p e r levesque

this is how an angel flies
I blame it on my own sick pride
I blame it on my a.d.d. baby
sail, sail, sail

I would have been lying if I said I was hoping he would reject. I supposed the least I could do was help him out, and if a warm place to go was enough, then that would be what she gave him. I prepared myself for the passive aggressive bitch she called "Mom" and her complete disgust that I had allowed a street urchin to crawl into our home. It was quite sought after, three stories, completely furnished with the golden laced interior my parents inherited and bought with money that could have been used to help people like Hero. Once a year they donated to charities, but until now, I hadn't blamed them for not really caring about anyone one outside our home. I thought they were all just too lazy to work, and a a result, couldn't have nice things, but Hero was obviously working hard to survive, and for some reason that mean something to me.

I nodded and offered a faint smile. "Yes. Finish eating and we'll head over there." It didn't take long for him to protest. "I mean, if it’s not too much trouble. But.. ah, crap – you were probably just trying to be polite. Nevermind. I’ll leave you be after I finish eating," I held my hand up and shook it back and forth. "No, seriously, as soon as we get finished, I promise. Now stop questioning me." And I took a bite of my burger to signal I was mostly kidding. He plopped one last fry into his mouth, and the waitress returned again with his food, and she seemed for friendly, like she wasn't as eager to run back into the kitchen to put some distance between herself and the teenagers on an emotional roller-coaster in the front.

"There ya go, Hon." She looked at me, flashing me a quick and grateful smile, then disappeared. "Is she a friend of the family?" I asked, watching as she walked into the back. My parents had taught me that having good resources and wonderful connections was always the key, and I could see now that they weren't lying. In this case, resources were keeping Hero alive. It actually shocked me that my parents weren't completely full of shit, even though, like an idiot, I followed their every move blindly like a toddler, as if I were unsure what to do until they told me. Was I anything more than a puppet that my parents held the strings to? Because the majority of the time, I didn't think so.