.:Some Kind of Mysterious:. [lucy x heath]

[Deleted]

H E A T H C L I F F

The fresh soil was wet and cold against his feet. He twisted his toes until they scraped clumps between every last one. The last time he remembered being barefoot in an idle patch of grass, he couldn’t have been much more than knee high. They were learning to climb trees and explore the elements. Heathcliff had spent a morning picking daffodils and being chastised by his mother for wasting time. He’d taken one of them home and pressed it into a book—paradise frozen between pages. Memories were like that now, gentle reminders he could use to put himself together. He’d remember the boy from back then, and think that there was so much unknown. Was he always running with a funny gait? And his sister by his side, pulling him back to reality. Without her to tether him, he kept drifting up and off again.

This was better, though. As much as he wanted to concentrate on the weaponry skills, he kept finding his eyes wandering. How could they not appreciate the vastness of the training center, the rooms filled with history? These were halls filled with ghosts; they too would have their names drift through the halls when time came due. Perhaps it was out of honor, or general curiosity or his problematic attention span, but Heathcliff kept itching to distract himself. There had been enough time to practice his stride. Any fleeting moment of practice here wouldn’t change the course of fate. He kneeled over a patch of lilacs and daisies and began to tear them apart.

Heath weaved the stems of the flowers together, minding some lilacs along with some baby’s breath. He could approve of a tulip or two—their stems were a good base. His hands were steady, and he started to forget the purpose of having come to the plants station was to figure out how to not poison himself. And yet after a few days within the training center he was finding having no center or focus was much better than all the days he’d spent lost as a robot. He knew he needed to focus but this—he felt compelled to put it together, to separate away from the task at hand. He placed the creation atop his head with a smile. How he wished his sister was there to see him now.

He was under no illusion that he should’ve been wearing a crown, but the starry eyed boy kept at playing with the flowers. “It’s much better time spent making these than thinking a patch of berries is going to save you,” He said to himself and anyone in earshot. “Don’t you think?”

Made by Frankel

[d1b. xylia fray ♕ kaяi]

lucy.

Not much reminds of home.


And I don't want it to either.


Sometimes it hurts to think of what I've left behind. Sometimes I forget what I've walked away from. But most of the time my body feels numb. It's better that way. I don't want to think of what I've lost. So I busy myself here, try to distract myself. Sometimes I get lost in thought, watching the skillful movements of those around me. It's an art really, something I'll never be able to master.


Something I'm not sure I want to.


I wander aimlessly, tired of my constant failures with weapons, looking for something to distract me. My eyes fall on flowers, some I know the names of and some I do not. I'm instantly brought back to my home in District 6, sitting in the grass and just drawing. Every moment, every piece of life, it found its way onto my paper. I'm mesmerized, my fingers trailing softly on the petals. For a brief moment I feel peace, for a second I forget where I am, until a voice breaks through the silence. I look curiously up at the boy. A feint smile spreads across my lips. "Yes, it's very pretty. You're Heathcliff right?"No, I do not think it's a good idea, but I would never say that.


I know I'm going to die in there, but I want a chance to live.

[Deleted]

H E A T H C L I F F

“You would be correct, Six.” Heathcliff replied, his hands weaving stems together. He never liked to call any of them by their names, though this one was Lucy. He liked the way the name sounded, simple and clean. It fit her tremendously, though he wondered if she could be as fierce as her short moniker portended. District Six was not known for skill in the arena. He wasn’t sure if this year would be much different. But she liked flowers, or liked them enough to talk to Heathcliff. He could use the distraction from all the rest, at the least. He finished tying another portion together and held up the smaller crown in his hands.

“We should all get a chance to see what it feels like.” Heathcliff presented the crown to her, a small half smile spreading across his face. They were but children now. Sure, some of them had outgrown the playful games, too distracted by the pain of adolescence to really understand that only they could decide whether or not to leave childhood behind. Art was the closest connection they could have—the same twinge of childhood expression carried out through emotion. It was the same with dance; Heathcliff was grateful he had such a chance.

“Do you think the capitol would approve, Princess from Six?” Heathcliff smiled, the little crinkles forming under his eyes and teeth flashing.

Made by Frankel