Xenia Robbins {D11} {WIP}

make a stand believe in me

Xenia Catherine Robbins

* eighteen * district 11 * Noelle downing * code:odair *

My wake up call this morning had come in the form of a familiar song from a group of nearby mockingjays and my eyes were greeted with the sun beaming in through my window. Lying in my bed I gave a contented sigh. Living in District 11 could hardly be called nice but getting woken up in this way had to be one of the few perks it had. Slowly removing myself from my bed I took a minute to look out of the window and observe the conditions outside of the small place I call home. Luckily for me there were only a few traces of cloud hazily breaking up the sea of blue way above my head. It was perfect weather for a Saturday, especially when I planned to spend most of it outdoors.

Remembering my plans for the day required to be out of the house rather early I turned my attention to making myself look fairly presentable. Not that I really have that many clothes to choose between but I like to leave plenty of time. Today's choice was a multicoloured, checked shirt with half sleeves and a pair of black trousers. I finished the outfit with a pair of trainers that started off white in colour a few years ago but now are a murky grey with small holes in. They aren't my favourite and my growing feet mean they provide little uncomfortable but my family can't really afford new ones on my parent's wages. I walked across the room once the laces are tied.

I looked in the tiny mirror that I possess in order to check how my hair looked after both a night's sleep and pulling my nightdress over my head. There hadn't been too much damage to the long brown waves so I decided to just brush them lightly and wear it all down. Then I turn away. I didn't stop to look at the rest of me since I see it most days anyway. I can already tell without looking that I have hazel eyes with dark brown accents, slightly pale skin and a figure that is somehow quite ample for someone who can't even guarantee having food on the table every day. It's not like it is full of muscle either. Alright, there is some good muscle there but not enough to really show.

The familiar voice of my mother reached my ears from the kitchen calling me to join her and my father for breakfast and I instantly oblige. Having only been able to have a tiny portion of a homemade soup last night the rumble of my stomach was sending me clear signals to get over to the breakfast table. There wasn't much on offer, just two small slices of bread but when you live hear you learn to appreciate every crumb of it. At least things will be better tonight since today I get to pick up the meager supply of food that comes each month for the tesserae I have signed up for this year. Me and my parents have small threads of conversation while slowly savoring our food. Once I have finished I said my goodbyes and headed out the door.

I'll never let them hurt you again
for saying what you feel