I Will Dream (Open)

[Stare]

Senalia Livery

Fantasies aren't meant to be feared.
They are your dreams, after all.
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I move through the crowd with grace, twisting around to avoid bumping into people. The brown knit hat I wear causes an itch to crawl over my scalp, and I reach up to adjust it slightly. A bit of golden brown hair falls into my face as I do so, but I make no attempt to brush it aside.

A whispy cloud escapes my lips and floats up toward the sky, painted pale pink with the sunrise. I'm surprised at how many people are awake this early in such cold weather. The only reason I'm up and about is because of the nightmare that had me awake before the sun this morning. I found myself tangled in the sheets, one pillow half on the floor. My breathing was coming in quick, short gasps, and I made no attempt to hold onto sleep, as it couldn't escape fast enough. Seeing it was still dark, I rolled over to see the time, blinking the sleepy fog out of my eyes. Still blurry, the clock read five in the morning. It took half an hour of rolling over in bed before I finally concluded there was no returning to sleep, and I dragged myself out of bed, threw on my clothes, and started into the crisp morning air.

My hand digs into my pocket, grasping the crinkled paper. My handwriting is messy, smudged, and light, but I can still make out the words. It lists several food items and some material I need for weaving. Although the district industry changed, I have stuck to weaving, and still earned a decent amount of money by selling my work. All the weavers in the district are greatly skilled, which made it harder to sell in the past. But now, since many have changed with the district, weavings have become scarce, and more valuable.

I don't know why I stuck to weaving. I'll admit, I'm good at it. I've always loved it. My parents were weavers before they died. I have very fond memories of my mother guiding my hand over and under with paper. I remember nights we spent by the fire, with the winter wind howling outside, while my mother weaved fabric and I weaved some more place mats that we would never use, and my father would sit in the big red chair near us and read. Now, those memories seem warmer, painted in a golden color. Maybe it's because I know that I will never relive those moments. My parents are gone forever, and so is my childhood. I never really realized how wonderful those times were until they were gone.

I catch myself quickly. There will be no more feeling sorry for myself. No more sob stories about my past. I'm going to make today bright and happy, just like all the others that came before this. The wounds will never really heal, but they will hurt less if I stop rubbing at them. I allow a soft smile to appear on my face, and gradually slip off into a fantasy world.

I swing into a store, scanning the shelves for a few minutes before finding one of the items I was looking for. I grab the can and throw it into the basket I had grabbed when I came in. My shoes squeak as I move to find the rest of my items and towards the counter.

A few people stare, causing me to look down. My coat is worn and dirty, and my jeans are wrinkled. I reach one hand up, working my fingers through my hair. I barely brushed it before rushing out onto the streets. I'll admit, I'm not the cleanest or neatest person here, but I'm too tired to really care.

The door resists at first when I throw my weight against it, but slowly swings open, welcoming the cold air. I sigh, releasing another mist that momentarily alters my vision before fading. Someone shoves into me, and I stumble forward a few feet before straightening. As I lift my head, I notice two Peacekeepers looking this way. Without missing a beat, I change my direction and avoid their gazes, which are colder than the air. The Peacekeepers have never been very fond of me, but unable to proove the 'danger that so obvioiusly hides in me', they're forced to leave me alone. I can't say I'm too attatched to them, either. It's their fault I never got into an orphanage. It's their fault I almost starved.

A few lights float lazily in the air, but they are very faint and disappear almost as soon as I focus on them. None come near me, which makes me a bit sad, and I think back towards my nightmare. Total blackness, and a scream, and then pain...

I gasp as I walk straight into another person. The impact stumble back, my feet stirring up little clouds of dust on the road. I hold out my arms to steady myself, blinking before looking up."Oh, I'm so sorry. I was lost in thought for a moment there."

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[annamarie]

Ilse Madonfried

Ilse was angry. It was as simple as that. Her small, delicate feet slammed down on the paved sidewalk with the noise of a dozen elephants; the pale flesh of her palms was turned pink from the force of the nails in her tight fists; her usually bright and happy brown eyes, though heavy from a lack of sleep, burned with rage. She had seen The Boss in his moods before, but this - this was too much. Randomly deciding that she couldn't work for them because she was a girl? Hell, she could rob a grocery store better than most of the boys there, and many of them were almost twice her age. And The Justice Squad wouldn't be anywhere now without what she had helped them with in the past. No. The Boss had no right to be making accusations about her gender, especially not when she had been there for longer than he had. But what could she do about it? Ilse was nine and The Boss was sixteen. He'd probably be in a better mood tomorrow and let her back in. He'd better be, anyhow.

Brushing a strand of loose light brown hair behind her ear, Ilse took a deep breath to calm herself. There was no point in getting worked up every time The Boss made a fuss. She should be used to it by now, shouldn't she? After two years of working with him, the answer was yes, she should've been. But for some reason, she wasn't. Any time her leader or anybody else made a reference to her gender, she was angry. Yeah, she was a girl. So what? Ilse had proved herself time and time again that she wasn't a useless member of the team. But still she was jeered and taunted about her gender and her age. Maybe it was just because they were boys. So insecure about themselves, they had to find someone to pick on, and Ilse was the easiest target. Some team members they were.

Even though they would happily welcome her back the next day, Ilse couldn't help feeling like she had to prove that she could get along without The Justice Squad. Prove to who? she felt herself wondering. To the boys... or to yourself? She shook her head, brushing the thought out of her mind. She wasn't trying to prove anything to anybody. She was just being normal Ilse Madonfried, going out for a walk in District 8... at five in the morning... and planning to rob a grocery store. Yeah, that was actually pretty normal for Ilse. But before she could even get in the same block as the store, something soft hit her in the back, nearly causing her to fall flat on her face. Catching herself in time, the nine-year-old spun around, facing the teenager now standing behind her. She bit back an angry word, just saying instead, "It's okay." Even though it wasn't. This girl should've been watching where she was going and not lost in her daydreams. Idiot. But she couldn't just go off being mad at someone when it wasn't their fault. Even if she was a petty thief, Ilse didn't have absolutely no morals. The first four or five years of her life had seen to that.

[Stare]

Senalia Livery

Fantasies aren't meant to be feared.
They are your dreams, after all.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>

It feels like I'm waking up from some sort of odd dream. My lips are moving, turning my voice into a mesmerizing lullaby that softly drifts into the delicate breeze. There's a thin wall of rusting metal that stretches a few feet above me. The knees of my pants are wet, the fabric sticking uncomfortably the my legs. My hands, which steady me as I crouch, are filthy and damp. There is a series of tiny indents along the palms where pebbles dig into the soft flesh. Confusion instantly sweeps through me. I had just been talking to Will, and now I'm... here. My nose wrinkles up and a sharp stench hits me, bringing tears in my eyes. My voice stops aburptedly, and I gag slightly, leaning over.

And then I hear it. Muffled cries of pain, the sound of fists hitting flesh. Cruel laughter bounces around in my head, and I frown. Something's not right. Pale blue lights zig-zag in front of me, a sense of urgency about them. I've always trusted the lights. They seem to be able to detect danger, and have always helped me through it. I have to trust them now, too.

Straightening my legs, I glance around. I'm in some kind of ally. I see a few large men in the distance. They move unsteadily, and one has a half full brown bottle in his hand. The moment I catch sight of it, it slips out of his hands and shatters on the ground. He barks a curse, shifting to avoid the broken glass that sparkles like golden tears on the ground And that's when I see him. Will. He's laying on the ground, limbs bent at odd angles. Skin split. There are red marks on his face. The men are laughing... I don't think they realize that even though they're having fun, he's getting hurt. I've seen boys do that before. They would be playing swords or something and one would take it a bit to far and someone would end up hurt. That must be what's happening here. The men continue to laugh, and I frown, staring at Will in confusion. He's trying to be strong, but I see it. I see the pain.

He's broken.

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People call me crazy. They say I'm insane, just because I'm positive. Because I like to look at the good things in life. This confuses me greatly. There are very few bad things in life. Everyone in Panem is extremely kind. People make mistakes, of course, but those can be easily overlooked. The Capitol even lets a bunch of kids play in a really fun game that everyone get's to watch on T.V., and when they're done pretending to die, they get to live in the Capitol. I never really understood why the winners have to come back, though. It doesn't make very much sense.

I'll admit, I miss Will. He was my only friend, the only person who never called me insane. He was so nice to me, too. When he "died", I almost believed it. I almost cried. But then I reminded myself that he was fine, that he would have a better life in the Capitol. Still, I wish I could write a letter to him or something. Tell him how amazing he was in the Games. Tell him that I was cheering him on the entire time. Gush about how amazing it was that he made it so far. My heart ached the entire time he was gone. I was just about ready to cry when he was reaped.

I don't know why I thought of Will when I saw this girl. She looks almost nothing like him. Maybe it was because when she speaks, the lights suddenly blaze, like bright stars, and float towards her. They swim through the air around her, making rings around her head and legs. They leave little trails of a glittering light behind them, which slowly fade into the air. They used to do that to him, too. I wonder if there are lights where he is. I wonder if they still circle him. I wonder if he knows that they're there, even though I can't tell him about them. I wonder if he remembers me.

I smile down at her, my eyes gazing at a light that hovers on her right shoulder. "They used to do that to Will, too. They liked him a lot. They like you, too, but not as much... They used to land on Will. They just kind of... float around you."

I give a little giggle when two explode at the same time, on on each side of her head. Two immediately replace them, one blue, and one red. A few come and circle around me, too. One brushes against my hand, yet I feel nothing. This doesn't surprise me, though. They're made out of pure joy and curiosity. The only place you can feel that is your heart.

Suddenly, I catch sight of the girl. She looks annoyed and slightly angry. I burst into a series of giggles, leaning forward slightly and crossing my arms over my stomach. I can't help myself. She's just so small, but she looks so mad. Like she's ready to punch me in the face just for running into me. This thought makes my giggles turn into laughs, and a few people nearby stop to stare. The Keepers' heads whip around and glare at me, but I don't care. Finally, gasping for air, I pause, grinning down at a light behind her head. "You look mad."


((OOC: In case you're confused, Senalia's insane, so she sees lights and thinks the world is a bright, wonderful place where everyone's nice and nothing bad could possibly happen.))

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