Running {Away} into The Future {Arrows// Kirito & Anastasia}
May 14, 2017 22:32:48 GMT -5
Post by Cameo {RIP Charlie} on May 14, 2017 22:32:48 GMT -5
Anastasia
Age: Five
Petite feet beat against the pavement of a sidewalk, with no plan of a brief halt in the schedule. There’s an instinct to gaze back, to view if a Chaser is in pursuit, yet her head does not turn in the slightest. A bird chirps from a nearby tree, as if encouraging the race - and soon even that tune fades from the travel. Will the Foster Parents be in search of her immediately, unlike the Parents who rejoiced in her absence? For once she internally pleads they’ll perform as her Parents would have - and leave her to her travel. She mustn’t return to the house her Brother shares residence under. The journey must contain a length that’ll permanently separate her from this unbearable reality.
Smooth concrete layers the path ahead, without a mere crack interfering with it’s perfection. Why must it all appear pristine, when in truth it is not? How many masks were required to reach appearance satisfaction across these sidewalks? The history of this footpath has been wiped from view. What number of families are suffering with the facade of displaying an elegant picture to the public as well? While Anastasia’s eyes are pierced to every future step in front of her toes, it’s the wonder of other families that flicker in her vision.
The beautiful Gardens, before breathtaking homes, shrivel to smaller sizes with every block. Separation between the Houses grow thinner, until completely nonexistent - then the Houses themselves become skinnier, as they’re smothered between each other. And soon individual entrances are even absent from the street. The heights of these buildings rise taller. City apartments is a tittle Anastasia recalls that they’re labeled as. Dazzling windows stand prove that these massive towers contain homes within them. And she understands more so how foreign the Panem is to her - how unknown every aspect is.
Her lungs burn in a desperation to pause her rapid hurry, though she presses forward as if her life depends on such - which to her perhaps it does. When her Brother began to despise of her is unidentifiable. Certainly the blame of her being the sole reason they were removed from their Parents increased the hate, but before? It’s a memory she’s unable to grasp. And perhaps she never will retain that knowledge if her strategy succeeds; continue sprinting until a new existence surrounds her.
“I’m going to kill you like my Father wanted to when you were born!” Lingers in her hearing, enforcing her to manage through the agony of her strained legs. The foot she kicked him with pulses with every step, sobbing from the pressure of her Brother’s hard head. Her cheek radiates a sting from a red imprint left by his knuckles. Even her stomach cries for her to break for just a moment. But the pain solely restores her need to endure. The television, she’s occasionally allowed to watch, showed of the potential loving Families that reside somewhere - she simply must go onward to reach them.
The amount of Strangers that are strolling amongst the way increase as she advances into the City. Ungracefully she weaves through them, rejecting the comments of concern the occasional one blurts out. She’s unsure of how long she must run, or where she must turn - purely that she’ll eventually encounter her innocent desires. But before contentment is discovered, she’s colliding into an unsuspected Bystander - and her clumsiness collapses her to the immaculate sidewalk below.
Embracing the floor with her bottom is all too familiar - yet at least in this case, it’s actually her own fault that brings her here. Immediately her alluring irises gaze up to the casualty of her collision, to be met with a vaguely familiar exterior. She’s unable to place a finger on the memories, but she’s grazed across his face numerous occasions before. The Tv? Billboards? Magazines? She’s unsure. But she can not lose her available time for more distance, and begins scrambling to her feet once more.
