food for the thought {yoya}
Jan 29, 2017 17:17:59 GMT -5
Post by Knuckles on Jan 29, 2017 17:17:59 GMT -5
Ivar Hammerfell Seventeen | Male | District Two |
Gathering food in the Capitol was much different than back home. Ivar struggled reaching the plates, and even after grabbing a plate, placing the food on top was nearly impossible. Yet he slithered across the ground holding the plate on his back while trying to raise himself up high enough to even reach the utensils. At one point, he knocked an entire pan of mashed potatoes earlier leaving a fluffy white mess for someone to clean up. Soon he had enough to at least sustain him until he was in the district two lounge. He picked out a table in the corner of the room, and he placed his plate in one of the chairs before hoisting himself into the air. His arms ached from the constant use, and the training in general. Ivar played it off as a figment of his imagination because he was used to pain. Once he was in the chair, he lifted the plate setting it on the table.
Having a spoon and fork was common in his house, yet Ivar wanted to shovel it in his mouth with his hands. The only thing stopping him was the idea of his hands touching the nasty floor where other tributes walked. Not knowing what was on the bottom of their shoes ran through his mine. One night he ate some bread before cleaning his hands of moldy trash. It wasn't a pleasant sight, and it was something the boy swore he would never do again. Most of the morning he listened to the people around him scolding him for ruining his outfit. Maybe if they paid attention, they would understand the predicament he was in. He couldn't walk, and he had nothing to assist him. All he did was the floor. It took just a few seconds before the two became best friends, and now he wouldn't have it any other way. Thankfully the floor in the Capitol was much cleaner than the streets of district two.
Blue eyes scanned through the dining hall before locking on his plate. He was hungry, and it was time to eat.
Having a spoon and fork was common in his house, yet Ivar wanted to shovel it in his mouth with his hands. The only thing stopping him was the idea of his hands touching the nasty floor where other tributes walked. Not knowing what was on the bottom of their shoes ran through his mine. One night he ate some bread before cleaning his hands of moldy trash. It wasn't a pleasant sight, and it was something the boy swore he would never do again. Most of the morning he listened to the people around him scolding him for ruining his outfit. Maybe if they paid attention, they would understand the predicament he was in. He couldn't walk, and he had nothing to assist him. All he did was the floor. It took just a few seconds before the two became best friends, and now he wouldn't have it any other way. Thankfully the floor in the Capitol was much cleaner than the streets of district two.
Blue eyes scanned through the dining hall before locking on his plate. He was hungry, and it was time to eat.
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