hester shaw // district two // wip
Nov 30, 2023 18:00:19 GMT -5
Post by ali on Nov 30, 2023 18:00:19 GMT -5
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Hester Marie Shaw
♛
There was always a bitterness to winter that Hester found solace in, like the one that surrounded her now as she walked the cobbled streets of Two. Her mother had always said she was the only one who could stand the cold, because the day she was born saw the worst blizzard District 2 had seen in half a decade. Hester wasn't sure. She was certain the bitterness came from the lonliness that suffocated her, from the fact her fathers letters and the cash in hand passed from him to her mother had ceased since District Nine had become the crowned jewel of Peacekeeping.
Hester never had known her father. Her mother seldom talked of him- he was a shadow in her life, a deep rough voice at the bottom of the stairs in the middle of the night. The delicate white peacekeeping boots she could sometimes catch a glimpse of through the crack banister railings as she sat crouched, perched on the top step of the stairs. What she was certain of, that he was a Peacekeepr and she like many children, had a father who could play no part in her life lest he be punished.
And so she never knew whether he ever wanted her or not- and that thought was like poision. That was what made her bitter.
Her bitterness was bolstered by the unspoken label she wore. She was a Shaw and like the District she walked through, breath forming as clouds on the winter air, her family had fallen from grace. A long time ago, they had been put upon a pedestal. Descendents of victors, owners of the mines that produced the finest gems, they had once lived in the white mansions and townhouses in the heart of town behind iron gates, silk curtains and the best education Two had to offer. Then disappointment, after disappointment had befallen the family- Astrid, Cassiopeia- and then the mines had dried up.
Then that was that- her mother always told her.
Her bitterness was bolstered by the whispers that followed her in her wake, like ghosts haunting long forgotten corridors. Even now, she could see quick glances, turned away and hushed mentions of her name- each one caused her to bristle, hardening the armour she wore as the whispers desperately looked for a way into the cracks. Even though she could not make out their words- she knew what they were saying. Weaving the tale she had heard a thousand times from the mouths of people more bold to speak more openly about her and her mother-
'She's a bastard you know.'
'- her mother fell in love with a Wanderer I hear-'
'- even the other Shaw's did not want to assocaite with them after she was born.'
- Bastard. Discgraced Child. Daughter of none. These were names she heard more often than she did her own name, they were wove into her so tightly that hearing them did not even hurt her like they used to. Most of the time. Quick to temper, a fire inside her like the red of her hair, she hads stood before the Principal at school more times than she could count- fists, hair pulled, she even had bitten someone once because their words had gotten beneath her skin, they had dug so deep that she no longer had control over the flame that grew inside her.
That's why she had been expelled
Hester never had known her father. Her mother seldom talked of him- he was a shadow in her life, a deep rough voice at the bottom of the stairs in the middle of the night. The delicate white peacekeeping boots she could sometimes catch a glimpse of through the crack banister railings as she sat crouched, perched on the top step of the stairs. What she was certain of, that he was a Peacekeepr and she like many children, had a father who could play no part in her life lest he be punished.
And so she never knew whether he ever wanted her or not- and that thought was like poision. That was what made her bitter.
Her bitterness was bolstered by the unspoken label she wore. She was a Shaw and like the District she walked through, breath forming as clouds on the winter air, her family had fallen from grace. A long time ago, they had been put upon a pedestal. Descendents of victors, owners of the mines that produced the finest gems, they had once lived in the white mansions and townhouses in the heart of town behind iron gates, silk curtains and the best education Two had to offer. Then disappointment, after disappointment had befallen the family- Astrid, Cassiopeia- and then the mines had dried up.
Then that was that- her mother always told her.
Her bitterness was bolstered by the whispers that followed her in her wake, like ghosts haunting long forgotten corridors. Even now, she could see quick glances, turned away and hushed mentions of her name- each one caused her to bristle, hardening the armour she wore as the whispers desperately looked for a way into the cracks. Even though she could not make out their words- she knew what they were saying. Weaving the tale she had heard a thousand times from the mouths of people more bold to speak more openly about her and her mother-
'She's a bastard you know.'
'- her mother fell in love with a Wanderer I hear-'
'- even the other Shaw's did not want to assocaite with them after she was born.'
- Bastard. Discgraced Child. Daughter of none. These were names she heard more often than she did her own name, they were wove into her so tightly that hearing them did not even hurt her like they used to. Most of the time. Quick to temper, a fire inside her like the red of her hair, she hads stood before the Principal at school more times than she could count- fists, hair pulled, she even had bitten someone once because their words had gotten beneath her skin, they had dug so deep that she no longer had control over the flame that grew inside her.
That's why she had been expelled
