Anastasia Miristioma {D11}
May 10, 2017 14:30:30 GMT -5
Post by Cameo {RIP Charlie} on May 10, 2017 14:30:30 GMT -5
Anastasia Miristioma
Five yrs Old
District Eleven
Female
Cheeky grins crowd one of the various shopping plazas within the Capitol. Obnoxious makeup frames these outstretched smirks. Numerous colors from gold, to silver, to blue, and so on, unnaturally curl elongated eyelashes, and paint plump enthusiastic lips. Flowing hair range in shortness, or longness, and everywhere in between - while abnormal shades brighten or darken them from the sensible hue they were bred to produce. Chuckles and giggles of different tones flutter the streets of greedy spendings. Fashion fluctuates from person to person, just as their expensive features do. Yet all the same they blend to a sole trait, selfish - and terrifying to the one young Girl who does not match their outrageous smiles, or purchased appearances.
Petite hands clasp with their Parents in refusal to lose one another, for all except little Anastasia. While everyones’ chins steady high in confidence, her’s gleams towards the floor in fear of the crafted characters consuming every direction. Her glowing blue eyes stare at the ankles of her Mother and Brother, as they stroll hand-in-hand a few paces before her. Did they desire to misplace her within this sea of Strangers? Not once does her Mom gaze back for reassurance of her location, that she was following. Her other palm does not crave for the hold of her second child. If anything she was internally pleading for the Girl to be trampled to nonexistent by the countless heels clacking down the road; and unfortunately Anastasia understood this all to well at the mere age of four.
The population thickens across the carless street, and Ana quickens to maintain sight of the two family members. Surely she despises them, as much as they do her. But they feed her just enough, and shelter her from residing on the streets - they provide her with the only life the small Girl knew. And what punishment would await if she became lost and was then returned to them? She doesn’t contain a longing to discover the answer.
“Don’t bump into me!” The Mother scorns, with her first glance towards Anastasia. A line of people threatened to separate them for an unknown amount of time. Long enough for sight of her Mother and Brother to deplete entirely? She couldn’t take the risk. Unwittingly she crashed into the back of them; and in return her Mother’s free hand shoves her back to ensure it doesn’t occur again. Misbalance brings her to the floor from that simple sluggish force. Her Brother’s laughter irritates her hearing, as she watches the two move onward. Foul language -that she’s learned from her very own Parents- lust to come forth from the little One’s tongue, though certainly aware of the consequences that arise from such - she refrains. Bad attention is better then no attention for most, while she’d prefer sticking with the neglect.
Just for a moment she studies her small, scratched-up hands, as if unintentionally wanting to lose her view on the two she regrettably shares blood with. Will this be her reality for the rest of eternity? In her almost five years of experience, she’s unsure. All she knows is that it’s all starting to hurt less as the days go by. An unaffected face lifts back up to the path in front of her, to notice that they’re far gone. She waited too long. She should have been much faster with following them. Now her heart beats rapidly in reaction. What’s going to happen?
“Mama?” She screeches out for, stumbling back to her feet in a hasty manner. Instantly she’s pushing through the crowd, desperate to discover herself behind them again. What will result when they spot her absence? Will she go to bed with a rumbling stomach from lack of supper again? Will she rest her head for the night in the backyard once more? If she can find them before they even comprehend this event, she can prevent anything from happening. Silence guides her through the travel she hopes they’ve taken, internally pleading she’ll be right there when her Mother looks back for a rare second time - completely oblivious of her Daughter’s struggle to be in that view… But it doesn’t go as Anastasia severely yearns for.
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