whispered secrets // zoe

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pup
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whispered secrets // zoe Apr 25, 2020 15:14:29 GMT -5

Post by pup on Apr 25, 2020 15:14:29 GMT -5

"Little Citrine," she says with a small smile, motioning for me to take a seat at the table next to her. Mom was out of the house, so she couldn't stop Grandma from filling me with dangerous thoughts. I brought the two cups of tea I had been working on over to the table after stirring in a little bit of honey into grandma's cup just like she wanted. I fell into the seat, wrapping my hands around the cup, letting them its warmth engulf me.

Mom had gone to get groceries, so it would be a while before she got back. It took her ten minutes just to read the label of a box of crackers to make sure they didn't have any partially hydrogenated oil and really were vegan. It would take her even longer now. She wanted to stock up. The recent curfew that the capitol had placed on district one had seem to shake her slightly. Nothing like this had ever happened before in her lifetime, and the same devoutness to the capitol she's been trying to fill me with seemed to be the only thing keeping her from going insane form worry.

Taking a moment to look out the window at the darkening sky, grandma began to talk, "This has happened before." Her voice was quiet, probably for dramatic effect. She was about to start a story, stitching history together with her words. If mom had been here, she would have seen the sign immediately and would have cut grandma off, equating her to a blasphemer. Look at everything the capitol has given us, she would say, per usual, gesturing to the grand house.

But there was no one to stop grandma right now. I listened to her, entrapped with wonderment. I can't imagine the capitol committing the atrocities she speaks of, but she assures me that they happened. She says this is how the rebellion started the first time, when she was a little girl. There was a tension in the air, peacekeepers lining the streets, a curfew, a stay at home order, and then chaos. If what she says is true, we're two steps away from chaos.

I can't imagine the capitol, the same one that helps people become victors and provides everything in our lives, would do everything she says. Thoughts about the stories we are told in school flash through my head, rebels killing children, burning the giving capitol to the ground. They deserved anything the capitol gave to them afterwards, right?

As if she sensed my thoughts, grandma chuckled a little in that way the elderly do. As if she was all knowing and that whoever she was talking to was simply naive. That put me on edge a little. "Don't worry, my little gem," she says. I can hear the door opening down the hallway. "I know you don't believe me, but with everything going on, I think there's someone you can talk to..."

By the time she finishes telling me about the Aquinos, mom had finished unpacking her groceries. Grandma fell silent with a conspiratorial wink. Mom eyes us suspiciously before talking about how peacekeepers were everywhere in the district center and how they're doing such a great job protecting us and then moving on to complaining about how all the gluten free crackers were out of the store.

The next day, I walked into the training center a bit later than usual. Leaving the house at 7am felt odd to me. Normally I had at least two hours more in the day to train. I looked around for the girl that my grandma had told me to talk to. I had seen her around a few times. I knew her name, barely. There were so many careers here that often they blurred into one hulking enemy.

I didn't see her yet, so I walked over to the swords, running my hand over one of the glistening hilts. It was early enough that the popular station was not yet crowded. I take a few slashes at the dummy before I spot her out of the corner of my eye. I remember the words my grandma said, make sure no one else knows you're talking about what I told you besides her.

Wiping a spurt of fake blood off my cheek with a cloth, I walk over to her. "Hey there, Vera." I say, my voice slowing gently on her name as I try to remember it. "For some reason my grandma says she knows yours. Weird, right? Is there some grandma club that I don't know about?"

✨ zozo.

^Made by the amazing Onyx^

✨ zozo.
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whispered secrets // zoe May 12, 2020 1:59:19 GMT -5

Post by ✨ zozo. on May 12, 2020 1:59:19 GMT -5

Citrine's cool. Got nothing against her. Her hair is wicked, and if my own attempts at turning my locks yellow only to have most of it fall out was anything to go by I really should ask her for tips. A decent fighter, keeps up with us all, never heard her say anything nasty to anyone. But when she mentions her heritage ever so casually, questions mine, I can't help but freeze.

"Too many spies, mi hermana," Abuelo had mused to me as a child. Back then I shrugged him off, but now he's gone I feel his ghost like an imprint in my instincts. Trust no-one. Dust off the questions. Rebellion was three generations down my line and I wouldn't dream of tempting the idea in my lifetime but it's in my bones to be paranoid. My genes gave me my jawline, my height, my brown eyes. But they also gave me an awful anxiety nestled deep within my chest, sparked to light at the mere mention of what my last name once meant.

"My grandma's dead," I push through gritted teeth, warming my arms up with a long stretch behind my head.

It's not a lie. Not quite. My mother's Mom passed away two years ago. My Abuela, however, I haven't heard from her in years. I think she always resented how her husband obsessed over me. I did too, but I just hated the comparisons to his sister. She saw how he looked at me, how he was swept back into the dangerous life he lived before he had met her, before the war ended, before it was forbidden to speak of the rebellion. I think she was worried they'd get caught. You spend your whole life hiding from Keepers, that same paranoia clutched around your heart - I don't blame her.

Then he passed, and her heart broke, and that chapter of her life was finally closed. Maybe she couldn't handle putting any of us in potential danger, maybe she couldn't look at me without resenting Aisha, I don't know and probably never will. She hasn't spoken to me since Abuelo died.

I pretend not to care.

"What's your grandma's name?" I ask Citrine, focusing my eyes on the sword in my hands and not on hers. Flip the conversation around, lead the dance, all techniques I've learned from a life of dodging bullets shaped as question marks.

"No confíes en nadie, si?"
Si, I respond in my head, slashing at the dummy in front of me.

“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”

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whispered secrets // zoe May 24, 2020 21:15:33 GMT -5

Post by pup on May 24, 2020 21:15:33 GMT -5

Her voice is strained as she stretches, clearly trying to brush away the question as fast as possible. "My grandma's dead."

I nod my condolences as she swipes at the dummy in front of her, drawing a slice of flesh off of the rubber human. It was a respectable swing, definitely career-worthy. I mean, there is a reason that I've seen her here over the past few years.

Uncaring, she continues, "What's your grandma's name?"

I don't blame her for avoiding my open ended question as I prod her for answers. This is what we're taught, to dance our way around our words so we're prepared to represent our district on T.V. We were all groomed to talk this way, to clash words and swords alike.

"Kunzite Metz," I say. She probably could have guessed, my family, like seemingly every other in District One seemed to have an affinity for shiny rocks and loved to name their kids after them.

Grandma's words ricochet around my skull alongside thoughts of how I could figure out how to get her to talk, to tell me what I want. If anything, she'll just tell me about how great the capitol is. Even if Grandma thought she'd somehow fill my head with rebellious ideas, I know the truth. No one would ever openly discuss their questions, their stories about the Capitol.

They gave us all of this, and they can take it away just as easily. Our luxury is what they hold over our heads. We can't live without it.

"And I don't know, I think she thought you have stories about something from a long time ago, if you know what I'm saying. She's trying to prove a point."

I dance around my words, leaving what I truly mean unsaid. This certainly wasn't the place to go about talking about the dark days, the rebellion, but it was the only place that I feel like I'd be able to find her. And all the recent events, the curfew, the peacekeepers lining the streets. I might not have another chance. I'll just trust the clang of swords behind me will mask our words and hope that listening to my grandma wasn't a mistake, that Vera won't turn around and report me to the first peacekeeper she sees.