rising, shooting, or fallen | {miracle/jordan ambrose}
Mar 31, 2021 11:58:38 GMT -5
Post by admin dars on Mar 31, 2021 11:58:38 GMT -5
He still found it hard to believe. Well, hard to accept. Even now, standing in the Capitol with District Seven hours behind him, he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop: someone to pop out of the bushes with a camera to tell him he'd been pranked and film his reaction. But it didn't come, and despite the fact that he looked ridiculously out of place among them, he felt a strange sense of belonging there.
Shoulder to shoulder with people who had always known freedom, and they would've never known he was not like them if not for the clothes and the awkwardness. His phone lit up and he glanced down at it. He was supposed to be looking for someone named Miracle. He'd thought, with a name like that, she'd be easy to find, but he was ready to admit he wasn't having an easy time.
Between the squad of men dressed as zebras and the woman wearing a tutu and giving people brownies from her basket, to a pair of children hacking at each other with plastic swords, to a balding man with tusks sewn into his cheeks spitting water on passersby. If anything, he hoped she didn't stand out among the likes of these people.
Finally, he got smart and climbed onto a bench so that he towered above them all, and he held his always-recording phone out in front of him.
"Okay, guys," he said to the watching virtual audience, "My name is Jordan Ambrose St.Clair- yeah. That's a mouthful, I know." he pursed his lips with laughter as the comments began to rain in.
"I'm supposed to be meet someone named, uh, Miracle. You think she'll see me from here?" His eyes peered around him for something higher to climb.
"Should I just start shouting her name and hope she hears?" the words were said in jest, but there was a small part of him that hoped he wouldn't have to resort to it.
Shoulder to shoulder with people who had always known freedom, and they would've never known he was not like them if not for the clothes and the awkwardness. His phone lit up and he glanced down at it. He was supposed to be looking for someone named Miracle. He'd thought, with a name like that, she'd be easy to find, but he was ready to admit he wasn't having an easy time.
Between the squad of men dressed as zebras and the woman wearing a tutu and giving people brownies from her basket, to a pair of children hacking at each other with plastic swords, to a balding man with tusks sewn into his cheeks spitting water on passersby. If anything, he hoped she didn't stand out among the likes of these people.
Finally, he got smart and climbed onto a bench so that he towered above them all, and he held his always-recording phone out in front of him.
"Okay, guys," he said to the watching virtual audience, "My name is Jordan Ambrose St.Clair- yeah. That's a mouthful, I know." he pursed his lips with laughter as the comments began to rain in.
"I'm supposed to be meet someone named, uh, Miracle. You think she'll see me from here?" His eyes peered around him for something higher to climb.
"Should I just start shouting her name and hope she hears?" the words were said in jest, but there was a small part of him that hoped he wouldn't have to resort to it.
