12 } Anastasiya Vasseur | fin | Hunger Games: The RPG

анзие (Anz) Retired Staff 1,547 POSTS last seen Jun 14, 2015 16:34:46 GMT -5 probably away	12 } Anastasiya Vasseur \| fin Nov 8, 2016 10:18:13 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by анзие (Anz) on Nov 8, 2016 10:18:13 GMT -5 The day was breaking. In the disfigured street He left me, with a kind of valediction, And faded on the blowing of the horn. - Little Gidding, T. S. Eliot
	Last Edit: Nov 19, 2016 20:11:52 GMT -5 by анзие (Anz) ✨ zozo. made this. she is my spirit animal. basic table guide

анзие (Anz) Retired Staff 1,547 POSTS last seen Jun 14, 2015 16:34:46 GMT -5 probably away	12 } Anastasiya Vasseur \| fin Nov 9, 2016 7:18:58 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by анзие (Anz) on Nov 9, 2016 7:18:58 GMT -5 Anastasiya Alexei Vasseur district twelve seventeen female How can a heart be put in words? By others -- will people know what you live by? A thought expressed becomes a lie. s i l e n t i u m
	Last Edit: Nov 19, 2016 16:29:33 GMT -5 by анзие (Anz) ✨ zozo. made this. she is my spirit animal. basic table guide

анзие (Anz)
Retired Staff

1,547 POSTS
last seen Jun 14, 2015 16:34:46 GMT -5

probably away

12 } Anastasiya Vasseur | fin Nov 19, 2016 15:53:58 GMT -5

Quote

Post by анзие (Anz) on Nov 19, 2016 15:53:58 GMT -5

Her heart trips. It's nothing more than half a beat displaced into the realm of forgetting, like looking down the branches of a tall tree and seeing familiar faces an eighth of the size she remembers them - but it trips, its voice in rhythmic actions rather than plaintive words, trips asking if this is supposed to mean something. This: the shy shadow of friendship hovering in kindred eyes, the hidden not-smile beneath coal dust, relaxed hands asking for hers - and then it's gone. The stranger walks by, shoulders hunched with exhaustion, tired eyes sliding off Ana's face and onto the next stranger, and the next, and the next. Ana twists around like she's going to follow, then makes a full three-sixty back onto her path. Her actions become nothing more than the day's semi-forgotten curiosity in bystanders' minds.

She walks this road on alternate weekends. It's the longer one, the one that coats the soles of her bare feet in gunmetal gray and dulls her skin with the particles hovering lazily in the still air. This one takes her down by the entrance of the mines, where she can climb a nearby tree and watch the procession of weary workers trudging in and out of the yawning ground until someone yells at her to get down and go home - usually around sunset, after the crowds of coal-covered miners have dwindled to one or two Peacekeepers milling around the gates. Funny how that happens less now that she's obviously old enough to get away with stupid things like climb trees herself. Nowadays they yell at her to get down and get on their laps instead.

The idea repulses her, and she usually just returns to the shelter once they start. It's not quite as interesting there, but the other girls tended not to make lewd suggestions, which is a significant improvement on a dozen levels. It's consolatory that - once again - she probably missed him as he was headed home from work. Mining filth tended to wash out defining features, like the deep ash of Zan's curly hair or the sharp, dark brows that they both inherited from mother. When she first started her stakeout as a pre-teen and could barely keep her eyes open for any length of time, before she gave up consciousness, the miners sometimes became featureless blobs under the dirt, dragging themselves along the well-worn paths to and from the town.

Falling asleep in the trees wasn't so bad back then, before her body lengthened and filled out and she learned what the older girls meant by 'groping', amongst the other elements of womanhood that she was hastily shoved into. Staying awake in the tree was as much a necessity for the protection of thrice-broken dignity these days as it was to fulfill her self-assigned mission. Once Zan pronounces her old enough to look after herself and allows her to return to his brotherly guardianship, anyway, all those heart-skipping moments will be unimportant. Distant memory, the older girls called it, though they were usually referring to the shelter as they packed their meagre belongings on their last day. Someday she'll be standing beside Zan and saying the same words to the bright-eyed girls watching her leave: distant memory.

Twirling a lock of pale hair around a finger, Ana tucks herself in the little crook at the joint of the branch and main trunk, settling in - as she has done for every alternate weekend since he left - to wait.

Ana Vasseur

тысль изреченная есть ложь

Last Edit: Nov 19, 2016 16:23:52 GMT -5 by анзие (Anz)

✨ zozo. made this. she is my spirit animal.

basic table guide

анзие (Anz)
Retired Staff

1,547 POSTS
last seen Jun 14, 2015 16:34:46 GMT -5

probably away

12 } Anastasiya Vasseur | fin Nov 19, 2016 20:10:54 GMT -5

Quote

Post by анзие (Anz) on Nov 19, 2016 20:10:54 GMT -5

Ana Vasseur

тысль изреченная есть ложь

Thursdays are the jagged result of a hand that twitches when drawing a straight line, disrupting the uniformity of Ana's week to re-orient her into the construction of days and months, of seasons and the wheels that spin in the scuffed clock back at the shelter. Thursdays break the monotony by introducing more of the same: exactly three hours spent after school putting scented soaps back in their allocated shelves and checking off the list of hand-crafted knick-knacks that old Mrs Lincoln sells on behalf of the elderly in the home down the street. At the end of those three hours, when Mrs Lincoln kindly says, "I'll see you next week, Ana," she makes no attempt to say goodbye - and so she goes back every week on Thursday, like a clockwork or a train with only one way to go.

Some Thursdays the jagged line flies off the page when Bird and Verge lean against the shop's window chatting idly while Ana tucks the list back in Mrs Lincoln's notebook and makes the last adjustment of price tags. Those Thursdays she doesn't leave until one of them surrenders to annoyance and bursts in to grab her stuff and drag her out so they can curl up in a pile on Bird's couch or Verge's bed or Ana's tree. None of them are very good with words - or at least the space between them doesn't need those - and Ana basks in the silence, lingering beyond the onset of darkness in the solidity of them both. When they leave, they say, "I love you." Ana drops her walls to press her mouth to theirs, loving them quietly in return.

When the lock on the door at the shelter was broken, the quiet in early morning hours was occasionally derailed by the other girls sneaking kids from school into their shared rooms, muffling their voices in their sleeves and pillows with no care for the girls whose eyes refuse to close in the dark. But it made sneaking back into the shelter an easier task, devaluing the concept of climbing up rusted pipelines without forcing the idea into extinction. Her roommate turns over as Ana shucks off the stiff clothes and crawls between her sheets. Ana freezes, waiting to be accused of breaking curfew. "Can't sleep?" the other girl says, the words crawling over the cobwebs on her tongue, sticky with sleep.

"Yeah," Ana whispers into the dark. "Can't sleep."

"Mmph." Pale light washes away the shadow from her roommate's face; the other girls' eyes have already fallen shut once more. "Need to stop waitin' up'f'r him. But you need to sleep." Her voice trails off, and a moment later the other girl begins to snore gently into her pillow.

"I will," Ana promises, and doesn't.

✨ zozo. made this. she is my spirit animal.

basic table guide

анзие (Anz) Retired Staff 1,547 POSTS last seen Jun 14, 2015 16:34:46 GMT -5 probably away	12 } Anastasiya Vasseur \| fin Nov 20, 2016 11:36:07 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by анзие (Anz) on Nov 20, 2016 11:36:07 GMT -5 Before I forget, Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] has dibs.
	✨ zozo. made this. she is my spirit animal. basic table guide

Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] Administrator 9,638 POSTS Pronouns: She/Her last seen Nov 10, 2024 11:48:08 GMT -5 cameron stood in line for an hour for a stupid ride for me <3 best <3	12 } Anastasiya Vasseur \| fin Nov 25, 2016 12:34:16 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Nov 25, 2016 12:34:16 GMT -5 so excited for a new ship! ACCEPTED!
	credit umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] credit ✨ zozo. - chars -