nari starfall || district five || done

She lives life like it's a race to the end, toes hanging over a rocky cliff as she smiles down at the abyss. Sweat-stained, adrenaline heavy, Nari Starfall is made up of the bad decisions that make great memories. Comfort makes her uneasy like the slightly bitter scent of salted vanilla and the way her mom's lipstick leaves red tattoos along the apples of Mum's cheeks. It's a suffocating kind of sweet, the kind that makes her itch whenever she catches sight of it. Simple happiness is not a reward all are meant to seek.

Instead she carves her own path made of fire and brimstone. She uses the ash left in her wake to ruin white satin dresses. It's a challenge, it's a battle, she's fighting herself in a war she's destined to lose. That's the fucking point. When Nari smiles through blood and dirt she's at her most beautiful.

Her feet know the layout of Mainstreet to the letter, backwards and forwards especially and in the hidden alleyways adults don't bother squeezing through. There lay the ladders up to rotten rooftops, perfect hiding places for the knotted clotheslines she likes to string between them. One day she'll dance above storefronts on frayed threads, no net beneath her because that's not the fucking point. You could call her a daredevil, but that's probably and understatement.

Nari tries not to worry much about what others think. Like that strange look in her mum's eye when she comes home with yet another broken bone, the kind that makes her heart sink into the pit of her stomach so she merely averts her gaze. Arguments are electric, full of pent up energy she has a hard time containing, but that's got nothing to do with love.

(It's 'cause she loves her moms that they get under her skin like that.)

She's eternally grateful to them after all, maybe even feels like she owes them. It's a privilege to be reared by those who chose you in spite of blood, not because of it. Nari knows they've carved out a place for her and her brother, it's just unfortunate it turned out to be an imperfect fit. Her hands are not delicate little things that have the patience to thread needle's eyes and weave them through dark hems.

Customers are rather unpleasant once you've drawn blood, y'know. It's never nice to get cursed out, even if you can't blame them for it.

And Nari knows she'll love them regardless of this incompatibility - she's just not sure they feel the same.

There was a time Io was her right-hand man. They were younger, of course, and he couldn't recognize her half-baked, wholly nonsensical schemes yet. But even then, she doubted they'd ever been truly close. She had a tongue like over-stretched taffy, spilling secrets he didn't want to hear but she forced on him regardless. Making friends was far harder than simply claiming them, she'd hoped to do something similar with her twin. If only things would go as planned.

It's occurred to her that they're just too different to get along, but that's dreadfully depressing. She doesn't dwell on things that make her sad.

Life shouldn't be hard, not when it's so full of wonderful things. Like the old records that play fast music and the way she's learned to move to them. It's not fair to leave Io in charge of her shifts while she wastes time dancing on rooftops and streetcorners, but things are so broken she'd rather have fun than try hard to fix things that might end up irrevocable.

It's all about the next big thing, another stunt to draw eyes and earn attention.

She sustains herself on the adrenaline rush.

And Nari could be better, but then she wouldn't be herself.