Only Sleeping | Funeral {Arrows/Kay/Zoe/Rade}

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Knuckles
Librarian

4,983 POSTS
Pronouns: he/him
last seen Nov 14, 2024 16:08:02 GMT -5

probably flailing over something

Only Sleeping | Funeral {Arrows/Kay/Zoe/Rade} Jan 18, 2015 11:30:42 GMT -5

Post by Knuckles on Jan 18, 2015 11:30:42 GMT -5

Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?

Most mornings started out the same, but this one was different. Pa didn't wake the sleeping girl to feed the animals. In fact, he fed them himself allowing those around the chance to sleep. Am eerie chill crept through the house turning each corner forcing the hair on the back of necks to rise. Bright blue eyes swept across the room landing on the perfect outfit resting at the foot of her bed. Curiosity surged throughout her body with every breath she took until it took ahold of her. Wood floor boards begged for the movement to stop the moment her feet pressed gently against it sending chills up her spine. Arms swung wildly by her side fighting to keep the waddling girl balanced while she journeyed across the room towards the foot of her bed.

Reaping outfit? Cocking her head slightly taking in everything before her. It was far too soon for another reaping, yet right in front of her was the outfit forced on her each morning before journeying towards the square. The bedroom door opened slowly, and the face of her cousin, Bailey, rested on the other side. Why Bailey here? Not that day. A tiny hand wrapped around the tiny dress. One that Ma made for her the moment she turned reaping age, but none of this made sense. The reaping wasn't happening. This wasn't part of the routine. Chaos fought through her veins ricocheting from one side to the other holding its iron hands against her slowly consuming the tiny girl's wishes turning her into something she shouldn't ever witness.

"Where we going?" Taking a deep breath fighting the war raging on inside her, Evelyn turned towards her cousin. Eyes fixed on her gaze waiting for an answer as thousands of pictures flashed before her eyes making Bailey's expression extremely hard to read. Silence was the only answer in return. No words spoken, just silence while the pictures snapped like crazy. In a matter of seconds, her gaze turned towards the ground blocking out the images before sliding in the dress covered in birds and flowers. The sound of others sobbing throughout the house sent shockwaves of agony through her body. Quickly, tiny hands shot towards her ears blocking out the sounds. It was so loud, and nothing would change it. "Well, we are going to say goodbye to Esme."

Goodbye. A word meant forever. A word said when a person wouldn't be seen again. But why say goodbye to Esme? Shifting her gaze from the ground towards her cousin, questions floated across the front of her brain before turning away. Raising a single finger to her mouth, Evelyn looked around thinking of something to say, maybe even a question, but nothing came across like she wanted. Until the wording felt right. "Where Esme?" The two words she had asked many times over the last few weeks. The two words formed a question nobody answered. Esme was gone. She was taken away, and was on the screen, but none of the family answered her out of fear the words would cause a tantrum the tiny girl liked throwing when things weren't going her way.

"Um well Esme is, well, she is dead."

Dead. Esme's dead. Two words spoken as the screen crashed down, as many gathered around offering condolences, but was was dead? What happened when those words were spoken? Why wouldn't anyone answer? Why was it so hard? "What dead mean?" The words she's been dying to know the answer to. Would Bailey explain it? Would she make it so the tiny girl could understand? Would she speak over her head? Evelyn turned around wondering why the answer was so hard. Struggling to speak was a sign of something, but she couldn't figure out what it was. Why? Why was the family so torn up? Why did water spring from their eyes the moment Esme's name was mentioned? "It means she isn't with us anymore, but she is in a better place watching us even though we can't see her."

Like a bird flying through the sky little by little watching down on those traveling through the earth. Was that where Esme was? A bird in the sky? But Bailey said she was gone. In a different place. Watching down as the rest of the family struggled with every day life. If she was gone forever nobody wouldn't see her. Her face would be forgotten. Her name. Her life. Everything. Was she in a place better than this? A place people cared for her? Never going hungry? Turning around to face her cousin one last time, she spoke again. "Never see her again?" It was the same silence she felt before. The same weary feeling of nobody wanting to answer her. All those questions turned through her mind. Only a few words stuck in her scattered brain, but the few words that stuck she understood. "No, not forever, just, just not for a while. You will one day though, we all will. I promise."

With that the two girls walked from the house hand in hand. The ground crunched beneath her boots with every step she took. Waddling around with her other arm stuck out like a bird flying through the sky, only right now no birds flew across the gray sky with clouds pregnant with snow waiting to coat the ground. A winter breeze slapped across her face turning her cheeks a bright red making her pale face look even more pale. Whistles escaped from lips hoping a bird would pick up the tune with her, but all the responded was the ground crunching with every step. A thick jacket becoming to her Pa rested on her shoulders blocking most of the winter air from chilling the tiny underweight girl to the bone.

No word were spoken as the cemetery grew larger before her eyes. It wasn't something she was used to. It was a sorrowful place. A place of pain and agony. Her heart beat rapidly behind her chest fluttering like a bird. Releasing the hand of her cousin, the tiny girl moved forward with her arms still out to the side making bird calls. Shockwaves of chaos tore through her body turning the routine into mass destruction. Stopping wasn't an option until two fresh boxes came closer into her field of vision, and she saw them and immediately felt drawn towards them. One box held a boy, a man. Kirk Marshall. His name was called the same time Esme's was. I remember him. Blood. Lots of blood. Was he with Esme? Dead?

Turning back towards Bailey looking for answers, Evelyn shook her head not knowing what to do or what to say. Nothing made sense right now as a small reality struck deep inside her chest. Hunger games. Tributes. Death. Her body froze as she moved around carefully looking into the box holding a girl. Out of all the weeks of searching for her, she found her. Esme rested before her eyes. It looked like she was sleeping. Kirk was sleeping. What happened? Why was this happening? Why did they die? Why did all these people die? What happened? I don't know. Her eyes shifted around the cemetery realizing how so many stones were created, and why they were created.

"No. No. No. No. No!"

Would you hold my hand
If I saw you in heaven?
Would you help me stand
If I saw you in heaven

Lyrics: Tears in Heaven - Eric Clapton

lest we forget [the characters]

credit to Zoe

charade
Retired Staff

3,811 POSTS

last seen May 1, 2024 12:08:12 GMT -5

Thinking

Only Sleeping | Funeral {Arrows/Kay/Zoe/Rade} Feb 18, 2015 7:17:19 GMT -5

Post by charade on Feb 18, 2015 7:17:19 GMT -5

Mayor Marlboro McFadden

Presiding over tribute funerals never got any easier for Marlboro, though in the years since Saffron had come home, he had sort of resigned himself to it. Two more coffins from the Capitol to lay to rest. The peacekeepers could have handled it of course, but Marlboro always insisted on doing the paperwork. In district ten, we take care of our own." he had said with quiet authority the first few times, and since then, they had stopped asking. Marlboro's day had started with a long wait at the train station after an hour or so of mental preparation; When this day rolled around every year, he made it a point to wake up early and dress his best, taking care of the release forms and the other paperwork that needed doing before the train ever arrived.

When it finally had, Marlboro helped the peacekeepers carry the coffins, trying his best not to think about the contents as they transported the pair to the graveyard. Upon getting there, both caskets were propped open and he stared at the two children's bodies with a mixture of pity and anger. Little Esme Truus. Probably the youngest tribute they had had since well...Saffron. The poor dear had taken a spear to the face and not for the first time, the mayor was glad he didn't have any kids of his own. He knew the Truus family would show for the funerals, and he prayed that no more of their children would suffer in the years to come. The Marshalls on the other hand, he wasn't so sure about. He knew from the records that the boys parents had split some time ago, and the death of their son was probably going to drive them farther apart rather then bring them together.

Marlboro sighed, and waved the peacekeepers away as he stared at the young man. From what he had heard of Kirk, the boy had been a promising apprentice to one of the district's blacksmiths, someone who worked with iron but had a heart of gold. And that had been evident in the fiery way he had tried to protect his district partner. In both cases, they had been cut down far before they ever should have. Marlboro stared at the thin scar around Kirk's neck and mused about the skill of the morticians in the Capitol. He knew full well what violence had ended both tributes lives, but the damage had been repaired, and both of them were dressed in far nicer clothing than was available in the district.

And yet, they couldn't capture that spark that had made the tributes who they were. If they could, they would have understood to leave the tokens instead of handing him a box containing them. Marlboro sighed and rubbed at his eyes before taking one out. A little wooden animal. Hand carved. He placed it between Esme's hands before pulling out a battered cowboy hat and turning it over in his hands, debating whether to put it on Kirks head, or between his hands as well. After wrestling with the decision for a moment, the mayor placed it on the boy's face, making it look like he was just taking a nap under an old oak tree. Shaking his head, he made his way to the seat behind the little podium and waited for the mourners to gather. The eulogies had been prepared, but he was never ready.

It was expected that Mace and Saffron would arrive at some point, whether for closure about another two lives that they couldn't save, to let the families thank them for trying, or rage at them for not doing enough, Marlboro had to admit that he admired the courage it took to face those left behind every year. It was a cold day, but no colder than the winter had been thus far. The weather, like many other things in Panem, was not kind. The Truus family arrived first, parents and a pair of young girls. Marlboro greeted the adults and offered his condolences as one of their daughters went around to inspect the coffins. Before he could say anything, one of them started to wail, perhaps realizing what the purpose of the ceremony was.

With a heavy heart, he turned towards the young girl and started to say something, but stopped when he caught sight of a man loping up to the gathering. When he got closer, Marlboro could smell the whiskey on the other man's breath and his grip tightened on his cane involuntarily. The man, who bore a passing resemblance to the boy in the coffin , plopped himself down in one of the empty seats and nodded to the mayor, muttering something about coming to say goodbye to his son. Marlboro nodded and smiled thinly, deciding to keep an eye on the man who has clenching and unclenching his fists if he started to cause a scene; especially if Kirk's mother decided to show up as well. The woman was a well known barfly, and if she came, Marlboro was not optimistic about what was probably going to happen.

With that unpleasant thought in mind, he walked over to the girl that was having a meltdown and crouched by her, leaning heavily on his cane and ignoring the twinge of pain that raced up his leg "Afternoon, young miss." he said quietly, staring at the prone form of Esme with her. "I'm sorry about your sister." Other than that, he wasn't quite sure what to say. Talking to children was not a strong point for him, he thought, thinking back to the other ones he had tried to console. He supposed that if he was married, his wife might help him work on his kid skills, but that was an errant thought, and not one that had any merit in the moment. With a barely audible sigh, he focused on the girl and waited to see if she would say anything in response.