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bloodline / vera, day 4
Jul 19, 2024 9:50:51 GMT -5
Post by andromache s. ⚔️ [d1b] sucy on Jul 19, 2024 9:50:51 GMT -5
Cleaning myself up alone makes me miss Nori and Lucia like crazy. I'm no seamstress, but I think I did a pretty decent job on Nori's leg back after the Bloodbath. If she was here I'd probably ask one of them to return the favour -- either cash in my sewing job from the first day, or leverage Lucia's little glass labyrinth induced sanity break -- because suturing up your own wounds is much, much harder than it looks.
Marceline did this a bunch last year, even on her own face. And here's me, struggling to do it while looking down at my body.
The needle would have stung regardless of my skill though. In that I take some comfort.
Grey sponsorship balloons rain down on me. Mostly actual practical stuff, the kind of things you see even the most useless kids get out of sympathy after the Bloodbath, but then something different... a big package lands in the sand next to me. Whoa. I open it up to find a parasol. I pop it open. The first thing I notice is the handle's sharpened end. I laugh. I love it. I hold it back to get a proper look. It's blindingly colourful, like most things in this godforsaken sandpit, but people have written on it. Fans?
Before reading anything, I throw the open parasol over my shoulder and spin around beneath it.
"Thank you! Thank you so, so, so much!" I cheer to the sky.
While the Gamemakers have the sun turned off for the night, I take the opportunity to read the messages they've written for me, and put Marceline's headband on while I do it. Some of the messages mention her, and our family's equal measures of strength and bad luck.
By the time I'm finished, turning the parasol on its sides to read each panel's contents, I'm crying. I always dreamed of making it to the Capitol, but knew if I was ever going to make it, it would be like this. From there, I figured I'd get my neck snapped by some big, burly career. But everything's been different, from the second I stepped on that train to the Capitol.
From the day I met Lionel Estrada on his Victory Tour.
No; from the day I saw my sister die on that beach, bleeding out on sand not unlike this.
I've got a purpose now, and better yet, people who believe in me.
Marceline did this a bunch last year, even on her own face. And here's me, struggling to do it while looking down at my body.
The needle would have stung regardless of my skill though. In that I take some comfort.
Grey sponsorship balloons rain down on me. Mostly actual practical stuff, the kind of things you see even the most useless kids get out of sympathy after the Bloodbath, but then something different... a big package lands in the sand next to me. Whoa. I open it up to find a parasol. I pop it open. The first thing I notice is the handle's sharpened end. I laugh. I love it. I hold it back to get a proper look. It's blindingly colourful, like most things in this godforsaken sandpit, but people have written on it. Fans?
Before reading anything, I throw the open parasol over my shoulder and spin around beneath it.
"Thank you! Thank you so, so, so much!" I cheer to the sky.
While the Gamemakers have the sun turned off for the night, I take the opportunity to read the messages they've written for me, and put Marceline's headband on while I do it. Some of the messages mention her, and our family's equal measures of strength and bad luck.
By the time I'm finished, turning the parasol on its sides to read each panel's contents, I'm crying. I always dreamed of making it to the Capitol, but knew if I was ever going to make it, it would be like this. From there, I figured I'd get my neck snapped by some big, burly career. But everything's been different, from the second I stepped on that train to the Capitol.
From the day I met Lionel Estrada on his Victory Tour.
No; from the day I saw my sister die on that beach, bleeding out on sand not unlike this.
I've got a purpose now, and better yet, people who believe in me.
[kaitlin]
