ballad of the ( hopeful ) / callum+kestrel
Jun 9, 2020 22:38:18 GMT -5
Post by Stare on Jun 9, 2020 22:38:18 GMT -5
kestrel
She was used to late night performances. Her favorites had always been in the summer in the old abandoned shed she had found, once used for storing the bows and knives for Nine's hunters before the Capitol had worried they looked too much like warriors and taken all the weapons away. Kestrel had turned it into a different kind of armory, filled with worn out dance shoes, tuning forks, violin cases, a makeshift barre. In the candlelight she practiced until her toes wept scarlet and her muscles screamed for relief.
Kestrel was going to be a star, but then the Capitol had decided to give her a different kind of stage.
But I don't want to kill anyone. It was the thought that had forced her out of her room a few hours past midnight, padding around until she wound up in the elevator somehow. At first she worried that the space was too small, but after a few experimental notes and twists she realized that she enjoyed the challenge of keeping her balance while the elevator shot up and down at speeds that made her stomach flip. At pauses in the song she used her bow to press random floor numbers, hoping that the music escaping through the brief opening of the doors wasn't waking anyone up. Even in the cramped space she was able to contort herself, lifting her foot high above her head and holding it there as she played.
That was the position she was in when the elevator door opened and there was a person on the other side. She let out a startled yelp and lost her balance, collapsing to the floor of the elevator in a heap. Her violin and bow clattered to the ground.
Once she'd gathered herself enough to shove her loose hair out of her eyes she grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. Did you, ah, need to use the elevator?"
