the price we pay for freedom }} open

the price we pay for freedom }} open Apr 29, 2014 6:32:20 GMT -5

Post by k!ah on Apr 29, 2014 6:32:20 GMT -5

DHARMAAVON

I was free.

No bars held me back.

Darkness did not lurk in the corners.

No hysterical laughs.

No desperate screams.

No stale air.

Nothing, nothing but freedom.

A smile slips onto my rose red lips as I wander down the rather empty alley way that lead away from the place that I called my home. This time 10 years ago I would not have thought that I would see the sky again, I had thought that I would have died and been preserved as a doll for my captures pleasure… But here I was now. Alive, free. I did not have a tube stuffed down my throat that would allow the moulding mixture to harden my insides. I did not have stitch in my skin, I was not one of his victims. Not anymore- and n one would understand this feeling, no one but my twin sister.

Around me buildings grew, and pathways widen. I was heading to the centre of town, my feet barely making a whisper of noise has I headed to the place where I would be able to snatch up something that would make me smile. I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to get, maybe I was just going for the walk, to be able to feel the suns fingers caress the bare skin of my arms and legs. Or maybe it was just because I didn't want to take life for granted, maybe I wanted to experience everything.

Rounding a corner I enter the city centre which was buzzing with life. People were idling around in the corners, children ran around near a fountain screaming, chasing each other round and round in circles. The smile on my lips grow as I watch one of the smaller boys lunge at a girl and the girls squeals with laughter. Now that was the childhood that I wished that I could of had the pleasure of growing up with. The smile of my lips falters for a moment. I wish I could have been happy.

Delicately pull a piece of purple hair away from my face and tuck it safely behind my ear. I push the thoughts about childhood and happiness into the back of my mind. I didn't need to think about that, I didn't need to think about the darkness that haunted me, the memories that filled my dreams with nightmares. I no longer needed to think about those times. They were history, and I was living in the present, looking forward to the further. Finally I manage to push the thoughts to the back of my mind my feet leading me towards one of the busier stores in the square.

It was a clothes store, and when my eyes scanned the sign the name Target was engraved into the back of my eye lids. It was to often that I shopped in a place like this and I thought about turning my back and walking away, but then, at the last minute, I open the door- bells chiming in my wake as I wander deeper into the store. Clothes on racks hung lifelessly in rows. Bright pieces of clothe, rough soft gentle material shaped in shorts and shirts and shorts and dresses. But I couldn't care less about them, almost instantly my feet carried me towards the shoes where my eyes darted towards a pair of black boots with thick heels. My fingers reach out to grab the boots, connecting with the cool leather material.

The boots were beautiful and my eyes begin to glow as I pull off my shoes and socks and slip my feet into the soft leather boots. The leather climbed to just below my knees and the heels were tall and thick. They were stunning, just the thing I was looking for, just the thing to release the grin that was hiding behind my gentle smile.

The boots were yet just another reminder of my freedom.

I was free. I was free and I was safe.

the price we pay for freedom }} open Jul 15, 2014 7:43:24 GMT -5

Post by анзие (Anz) on Jul 15, 2014 7:43:24 GMT -5

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Davanie Avon

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[attr="class","davabox"]

female

sixteen

district 1

the end comes too soon, like dreaming of angels

er boring everyday job is boring on a daily basis. People come into the shop, look at clothes, try them out, buy them sometimes though most of the clothes end up thrown messily onto the counters in the dressing rooms, and then they leave. Sometimes they take their stuck-up little brats with them, and in Davanie's eyes those are the worst kind of customers to deal with. It's not unusual for the brats to start bawling in the middle of an aisle with a demand that they absolutely need those glittery skirts because it's in in the Capitol.

Those kind of brats just want to make Davanie scream.

"Not your best day," one of her more sympathetic co-workers says sympathetically, and Davanie simmers back at her, flushed from her pathetic attempts to help the mother calm the tantrum-throwing kid down. She is definitely not mother-material - not where Dharma isn't involved, anyway.

"I hate this place," she grouches to herself. In an attempt to console herself she thinks, It's just temporary until I find something more... glamorous. It's for Dharma. This is for Dharma.

Fortunately her saving grace from screaming children comes in the form of a cheerful blonde girl who has many times confided to Davanie just how lucky she is to be able to deal with children all day and every day. Davanie envies her because grown-up women in the shoe department are significantly less scream-y. Gladly taking the offer to swap, Davanie makes her way to the shoe department after lunch and settles herself behind the counter to eyeball everyone that comes in like they are diseased (it successfully intimidates most of them).

The bell - and the thought that runs through her mind every time is, They have a bell here? - chimes, and Davanie lifts her head out of the magazine she's been poring over for the past quiet hour to stare into a mirror.

But Dharma is not her exact mirror, not while Davanie is forced to wear this horrible uniform and braid her soft pink hair back; Dharma wears her hair loose today, and she's dressed in her own clothes. So shocked is Davanie to see her twin sister that she doesn't move like she's been bolted to her chair with a nail gun. Dharma doesn't even notice; she walks by the counter like she's in some kind of dream, her expression full of wonder. It's beautiful here, it's heaven, her face seems to say, or maybe Davanie is reading too much into things.

She's my twin though.

Dharma heads to a display and picks up a pair of tall black boots - ones that Davanie catalogs greedily because now she knows what to get Dharma for their birthday. Eyes that are so like Davanie's (yet not, because Dharma's always so much less bitter) glow as Dharma takes in the boots like they're some kind of deity. She really likes them.

And they look stunning on her as well, elongating her twin's legs and making her look so much taller than she already is. We were born to be spoiled, to be pampered, if only because we look so damn good. A proud smile finds its way onto Davanie's face, and she gets up to touch her grinning sister on the arm.

"Whatcha doin', sis?" she says playfully. "You're looking good - nice boots."

and leaving with them, and leaving with them

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