Wanderer :: Wren Moreau (CB)

Name :: Wren Moreau
Gender :: Female
Age :: Seventeen
District/Area :: Wanderer
Face Claim :: Jennifer Sullins

The hovercraft crash was the best thing that ever happened to me. At first I was disappointed when I awoke in the wreckage to discover I hadn't died, but he had and that was enough. My husband, a Capitolite four decades old than me that I had met for the first time that morning at our wedding, had been speared through the chest by a splintered hunk of metal and I didn't shed a single tear. I closed my eyes with a smile dedicated to his oblivion and, for the first time, was glad at the idea that I might follow him.

Orpheus Harlow found me instead, his wife stitching up my wounds and his son telling me it was good that I was widowed, that I was too young, too pretty to belong to an old man with purple hair and ridiculous diamonds embedded in his collar bones. Here in the forest, that man's money didn't matter any more. He may have been rich enough to buy me, but no amount of gold and paper can buy resurrection.

I used to think marriage and love were the same thing, in a way. Except my husband made my stomach turn when he touched me and the Harlow boy — before I even knew his name — he traced his fingertips across my eyelashes, freckles, puffy lips, awkward cheekbones, and the matted brown braids of my bloodstained hair, as if trying to memorize the phenomenon of my appearance in his family's too lonely life of seclusion. He thought I was sleeping. I could have opened my eyes and told the truth, only I didn't have to. Suddenly I had a choice about everything and I know this isn't love, that maybe nothing is, but at the very least —

This must be freedom.

ODAIR