mingling, or not, with the crowd |thundy|

[jynx has a trojan]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=background,http://i32.tinypic.com/28a3qd2.jpg ,true] Was it bad that Saber couldn’t stand to be in her house, with her parents and her brothers, so much so that she was always running out the door? They always sent someone out after her, brought her back for something that they needed her to do, but she couldn’t help the need to escape. Sure, the citizens of District 2 were every bit as revolting as they always had been, but she wasn’t really escaping her house because of her need to socialize, after all. She was escaping so that she could get a bit of well needed peace from her corrupted relatives—her sisters were the only ones that she could stomach for even a short time. Unfortunately for her, though, escaping meant choosing one evil over another; it did always manage to be the lesser evil though. Dealing with the idiots that walked around beside her, most of them shorter than her, her head almost always towering over at least the majority of the girls. A few boys managed to reach her height or top it, but it was a rarity, unfortunately. Most of them just hovered near her height, while there were the few that stayed closer to the other girls heights, meaning that she could see clear over a good amount of the males heads. Yes, dealing with these idiots was indeed a considerable evil, but it was one that she could usually manage. Of course, shoving her fists into one of the crowd’s faces would make managing it a good deal easier, but then again that wouldn’t be truly managing it. She was just contemplating how bad it would be if she were to do something as dastardly as tripping someone so that she could have a reason to be insulted, and thus a vaguely plausible reason for why she would then punch said person, when someone managed to do just what she’d been thinking about making one of the crowd do—tripped over her own two feet, and into Saber. A low, almost animalistic growl sounded in her throat and she shoved them off of her and onto the pavement, so that she towered over the person even more than she already would have had they not been on the ground. “Watch where you’re going, fool.” The words came out a snarl, and she had to really work to hold back the urge to spit on them as well as she stepped completely over them and continued on her way down the street, her eyes moving from their usual ‘straight forward’ position to savor the reaction of the streets crowd to her little display of anger. Always so afraid of her, always making a little pathway for her so that no one would accidentally brush against her and risk igniting her temper, although someone still did usually manage to bump into her. Idiots, the lot of them. Why was she doing this? Saber wondered to herself as she soon grew sick of the stares, of the constant but always changing pairs of eyes on her back, glued to her whenever she couldn’t see them so that she could meet their gaze and stare them down until they wet their pants. Not fair at all, they were such wimps. It was driving her crazy, though, when she was supposed to be getting a moment of peace. Which really wasn’t any good at all. So she darted into a shop, shot a glare at the shopkeeper as a bit of warning that she wouldn’t put up with any staring nonsense, though she didn’t particularly expect that to work, and walked as far into the shop as was allowed. Far away from the door, far away from the shopkeeper, far away from prying eyes. Now that she was more or less as alone as she could be while still remaining inside the District, she plopped down on the ground, her knees pulled up close to her chest, and focused on breathing for a few moments. She had to calm herself down, she reminded herself, had to regain that icy exposure that her parents had taught her how to create, had to keep it so that she didn’t freak out like she used to always do. It wasn’t fair that they had given her this temper and then taught her to keep everything bottled up like a perfect little doll. Another breath and then she looked down at her hands, suddenly distracted by the onset of pain that she hadn’t expected—hadn’t expected, but probably should have, as this sort of thing happened every moment of every day to her. Her fingernails were biting into the palms of her hands so hard that the very young scabs were easily breaking and blood was beginning to pool there. “Damn.” She whispered, darting looks around the shop to see if anyone else had come this far back, and then lifted her palms up to her face to lick the wounds as quickly as she could, and then wiped them on her pants. She would just be digging into them later on when something else pissed her off, but she couldn’t have her hands bleeding all over the place. Someone might see, after all—and hadn’t her parents taught her that appearances were everything? Appear to be a perfectly in control girl and they would give her anything she wanted, let her use whichever weapon she wanted whenever she wanted. Appear to be a perfect family, and no one would stick their noses in their business. Appear to be good peacekeepers, and no one would arrest them and leave Saber and her siblings alone and abandoned. Odd as it was, these thoughts served to calm her down to what she considered to be a normal level of anger. But of course, it was just as that happened that she heard someones footsteps coming close to where she was seated. "I swear if some fool steps on me..." Her words were loud enough that anyone would hear them, and hopefully know better than to continue towards her. Just in case, though, she stood up and straightened to her full height, glad of it now and then when it gave her a distinctive advantage over others. 1,042 words - - - - - tag; eve renner (I think? Thundy, any way.) - - - - - notes; it kind of fails - - - - -

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[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

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Shaking, ungloved hands and a face bright red from the wild wind whipping around almost send me back into the comforts of my home to go back and snuggle underneath the covers of my bed, but I haven't been out in days. The flu that so quickly took over me didn't hesitate to take it's time in leaving, and I'm tired because of it. Tired and weaker than I'm accustomed to being, but I am also sick of being confined to my bed and sleeping all day. Excitement isn't exactly a craving of mine when it comes to my day-to-day life, but I can only stay within the same small radius of a place for so long before going mad. The only faces that I've seen belong to my family, and they should not count as it is. They are all I ever see, really the only people that I talk to other than the usual few that guide me through my day. The bookkeeper in my favorite shop, my teacher in school, the snobby girl assigned to sit next to me in class who always keeps her large, pointed nose upturned as if keeping it that way gives her some kind of invisible strength that I am unaware of.

My own face is tilted shyly towards the ground, and I can't help but test out my previous theory. I can't ever remember a time when I didn't walk like this, eyes averted towards the ground and avoiding the aimed glares of any passersby who somehow have a problem with someone clearly invisible. I find it difficult to raise my downturned face up to a considerable level, and holding it up high is something that takes actual force. There aren't many people bustling about at this time of day - most of them are likely working - but those that pass silently around me strike a pointless feeling of fear into my brain that should not belong there. Are they looking at me? Is that girl over there glaring at me? I subconsciously swivel my head around to search for anyone that she might actually be angry with, but there is no one within my vision. Even more uncontrollable is my next action, the shy look towards the ground and the steadfast glance at my shoes that has become far too habitual, and yet more comfortable than anything else.

A sudden flutter of the wind sends violent shivers through my torso, and a particle of stray dust brings an uncontainable sneeze through me, and the noise that it creates is both embarrassing and fragile. I feel something like a small bug, perhaps a spider. So small (I could never be one of the intimidating, poisonous spiders,) and so easily squashed by any person feeling threatened by it. Threatened.. It's not the correct word. I coudn't cause even a fly to feel fear (if they could) if I had a thousand fly-swatters aimed and ready to pounce with the slightest movement. I am never the predator, always the prey. The bottom of the food chain, or else the low girl on the totem pole of this social hierarchy that exists in the minds of people my own age. I've never actually had a problem with people older than myself; they are most often considerate and kind to me, even when I stumble over my words and have difficulty with them. The bookkeeper, my teacher; they are both gentle people. They have the patience with me that nobody else does, except for my brother and occasionally my parents.

So perhaps that is why I'm venturing out of the house today - not to wander, but to speak with my favorite shopkeeper. Maybe I'll even buy a book. I'm one of his best customers, though on most occasions I'll only come in to talk with him. He always has some sort of new book for me to read, fresh from the Capitol. I'm lucky enough to have such a luxury, for if I lived anywhere else (except perhaps District One) in the country, I surely wouldn't be able to throw myself into books as I do.

A tiny bell signals my entrance into the dusty shop, and my blue eyes search for the man that is sure to welcome me in seconds with a book in hand and a story to tell about it. It has become a comfortable routine, and I'm very thankful that I have this one person to talk to outside of my family. It's not quite the same as having a friend of a person of my own age, but it's a relief nonetheless. I stand still in the middle of the doorway as I wait, but no bustling footsteps alert me of his coming presence. He must be in the back if he didn't hear the bell. I lift my gaze up from the ground to search for him, but instead I see a domineering figure in the back of the room. The presence of another person in the shop seems odd to me - who else would be here in the middle of a workday? - so I take a few steps forward and curiously tilt my head to the side for another look.

"I swear if some fool steps on me..." A girl's voice exclaims loudly, each word filling the room with a threatening, angry sound that scares me out of my wits. Any normal being might step forward and demand respect for such rude words, but for me they send tingles of fear through my muscles and I stop right where I am, not daring to step any further into the store.

I'm not sure what to do next, but I didn't come all the way here just to be driven out because another teen deems this place as her own. Even so, there is absolutely no way that I'm going to stand and defend myself of this and proceed, so instead I walk forward with small strides and careful steps, scared eyes directed towards the ground again.

"H-h-hello? W-who are you?" I ask shakily, my voice as jumpy as if I were laying on my deathbed and I could not bring any strength to my words. I stop once again, unable to walk any closer towards the menacing figure.

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