When Will My Life Begin? (open)

[Deleted]

I'm really late. Like, the latest I've ever been to anything. Probably. Who knows? But, I mean, Lana will understand... right? Is it my fault that my alarm didn't go off and I accidentally slept in? Is it my fault that my hair decided to come out of bed looking like a huge golden bird's nest that required a shower to make it look anything less than hideous? Is it my fault that I ran out of eyeliner, and then couldn't find my favorite gladiator sandals that were just flawless with this outfit so I could run to the convenience store down the street to get some more? Really, how is any of that my fault?

Another thing that isn't my fault. My stupid apartment is forever away from Style Street. So it took me like fifteen minutes to get here, which is a pretty impressive feat while balancing this huge stack of designs and portfolios. I didn't even have time to put on a decent amount of jewelry. All I have on is my trademark anchor necklace and a pair of oversized hoop earrings. Oh. And the set of bangles I got for my birthday last year. And my mood ring. But still, you can always have more jewelry.

Anyway, Lana will understand. She's a pretty cool boss. Besides, these designs look so amazing that she'll completely ignore the fact that I'm two hours late when she sees them. These outfits will sell like hotcakes the second the hit the racks. I have to admit, I'm getting to be a much better stylist, which was the point of the whole apprenticeship in the first place, other than making some money. I pulled in a decent living selling my pottery, but the stimulation from the apprenticeship adds so much to that, that soon I'll be able to move out of my horrid apartment in what can only be described as the ghetto of the Capitol and into one of the nicer flats here on Style Street. That means I'll never be late to work again! Plus Mom says I shouldn't be living in the Backstreets because I never pay attention to my surroundings and I'll get kidnapped, but what does she know? I'm totally observant... except for that one time I got pickpocketed. And when I accidentally walked into gang territory and almost got killed. And the time... never mind, I'm moving to Style Street soon anyway, and I won't have to be observant here. Life just keeps getting better. Maybe eventually I can even afford the surge to get my stupid crooked nose fixed.

Finally, I can see the shop. Good thing, too, these portfolios are uber-heavy. Not to mention that it's really inconvenient that I can't see over this stack of crap, because I'm a freaking smurf. Really, what kid of height is five feet (with my hair fluffed up)? I got royally screwed by the gene pool. Just fifty more yards. Thirty. Twenty-five. WHAM.

Suddenly, I'm flat on my back, looking up at the grey sky, vaguely aware that my portfolios are scattered all over the place and a few loose designs have been caught by the wind, already being carried away by the wind. Damn it all. Did I trip over my hair again? This is not my day. Wait... It couldn't have been my hair, I felt something hit me. Or someone. Awesome. I pull myself up, doing my best to salvage the portfolios from the street and the feet of passerby, sighing heavily.

"Worst. Day. Ever."

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[Rosetta]

Luca Bennu Stentori

Luca's text: 50686E
Other Speech: 006363
Luca's Writing:034769

There’s blood on the ground, scarlet, thick blood. A man, a bloodied, bruised man, eyes half-closed, mouth hanging open, something dark dribbling from it. I stare, like I always do. The floorboards are dark, a pale hand lying limply across them, leading to yet another man in the shadows, but I don’t look at him. They have my arms pinned now, and the man who I‘m watching has come out of his unconscious stupor. He’s begging, always pleading, choking out the same words. “Not him. Not my son. Please. Not my son.” They don’t listen. They never do. The man now looks at me, his eyes are wide, fearful. I can only stare back, just as scared. They’re yanking back my head now, their rough hands forcing my mouth open. I flail against them, but they hold me tight. The glint of a knife is in my eye, and something stirs deep inside of me. Horror. I scream-

Bang!

I awake with a start from my usual nightmare. Sweat coats my body, and I see the thin blankets covering me had been kicked off by my good leg. Light flits in through a tiny window up high in the rafters of my attic room. A draft sweeps down from it, and sends goose bumps up my arms. Bang! Bang! Bang! The banging persists on the door, louder and harsher than ever. I pause and listen intently for a moment, knowing only too well that Yvonne, the other Avox, was just beyond the door, annoyed at my sleeping late. I pick up the nearest thing to my bed, which happens to be a shoe, and hurl it at the door. It bangs loudly against it, obviously startling Yvonne and the knocking stops.

Satisfied by this, I slowly make my way out of bed. My bad leg shudders in pain when I try to put weight on it, as I stand. Wincing in irritation, I drag it along behind me as I go to the only other piece of furniture in the room other than the cot I sleep on: the dresser. It’s tiny, and falling apart, complete with decaying wood. A sheen of dust lets loose as I open a draw, which is odd, considering the fact I open them every day. A row of crisp white shirts greet me, as well as unexpressive slacks, the usual. After getting dress, with a bit of a struggle pulling my pants leg over my bad leg, I study myself in the crack glass shard I managed to steal from a broken mirror. Dark stubble has grown along my chin, and my curly hair is as unruly as ever. Yawning, I stretch my muscular arms, and reach back, underneath my shirt, and feel the raised scars along my back. Just the touch of them sends electric sparks through my body, evoking painful memories, ones that had already been pulled up from the depths of my mind from that dream. The nightmare of the day they cut out of my tongue. My father had been forced to watch, and it was the first time I’d ever seen a grown man cry. It was both terrifying, and pitiful. But, at the time, I was more concerned about myself than anyone else. They wouldn’t even let me look at him when they took me. The Peacekeepers, I mean.

Bang!

Yvonne is back, angrier than before from the ferocity of her banging. I hobble to the door, rolling my eyes, and thrust it open. Yvonne stands there, her plump arms crossed, forehead creased in frustration with me. Her blonde hair is steadily coming lose from her ponytail, but she doesn’t bother to fix it, and stains are already splattered across her cream-colored tunic. I may sleep late, but at least I’m not a slob. I limp past her, feeling his disapproving eyes on my back, and make it to the stairs. Glancing around to see that no one is watching, Yvonne having gone down the hallway to clean up the mistress’ bedroom, I sit atop the banister, and push off the wall with my good leg, sliding down it. I know all too well that to walk down it would be torture on my leg. I could still feel the after-effects of the heavy anchor being dropped on it, crushing it. After that, I’d never been able to walk on it too well, and I still walk up in the night, pain hurtling up and down my leg. I was something of a joke to the people in the Capitol, you see. An Avox cripple. Awful luck I’ve got.

I stagger on landing at the bottom of the stairs, my leg groaning in agony. My eyes water at the searing pain, but I push it from my mind. It’s unimportant really, pain is. Casting my eyes downward, as it’s respectable, I shuffle into the dining room. My “mistress”, as she insists she is, is already sitting at the table. Her bony legs are crossed, slim neck craning over the endless mounds of food to see who’d arrived. Her lips purse at the sight of me.

“You’ve slept far too, Luca,” she reprimands, squinting her purple eyes, surgically colored that way. Her lips are also dyed a poisonous shade of purple, and her hair shines violet in sudden light. Overall, the woman, who is in her late 50s, is quite frightening, caught between her old age and trying to look young. She crosses her thin arms, her elbows protruding unnaturally in her sea-green dress, pearls dangling off her ears and resting on her neck. “Would you like to spend a night in the cellar?” She knows the cellar stairs are far too steep for me to scale, and the last time I’d tried to go down them, I’d tripped and cut my chin open. I shake my head. She doesn’t look satisfied, but looks away from me and to the mirrors that line the elegant gold walls. Fluffing her hair, she says, “I want you to go into town for me and pick up some fabric. Purple silk. You know where to go.” I nod, and start back towards the door. “Wait!” She cries out behind me.“Take your cane! I don’t want you falling and ruining the fabric! Now go!” She also knows I hate my cane. But, Yvonne is already waiting out in the foyer, the cane in her hand, and a smirk on her face. I yank it from her hand, but as soon as she turns the corner, I stuff it under the staircase, into the cupboard. What the mistress doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

The air greets me as I limp out into it. The smell of expensive perfume is in the air wafting off of oddly discolored women, walking past me, and sniffling, disapprovingly. I’d never quite gotten the fashion of the Capitolites. It was garish, clownish even what they adorned their bodies with. The prettiest women I’ve ever seen are the few in the Capitol who are natural looking. Of course, they were probably surgically enhanced to look natural, but I swear on my life, I’ve seen a couple women without any changes, Velia being one of them. But, she’s a slave, just like me, so I don’t think she counts. I stop for a moment, massaging my bad leg, trying to get the stiffness out of it. Up ahead, a girl walks, with incredibly long blonde hair. I roll my eyes, wondering how much it possibly cost her. She’s lugging these heavy looking portfolios and as she walks, her hair gets in the way, collecting around her feet, until she trips, falling flat on her back. For a moment, I try to conceal a chuckle, but it’s quickly staunched on its own, as one of those portfolios come flying my way. I snatch it out of the air, and glance at it. It’s a design for something, but the wind is blowing too hard, straining desperately at the piece of paper, for me to get a clear view. The girl most likely needs them. Sighing, I pocket the one I’m holding, and totter over to her. Leaning down, I offer her my hand to help her up.

[Deleted]

I’m able to salvage most of my drawings, for that I can be thankful, but I’m left with unshed tears stinging my eyes as I watch the few designs I wasn’t able to save flying away on the wind. This really isn’t my day. First I’m late, then I fall down (I realize now that I really had tripped over my hair because it’s tangled impossibly around my legs), and now I’ve lost the designs that could have stopped Lana from having an absolute hemorrhage when I walked in two hours late. There are small scrapes along my forearms, the irritated skin raw and pink, but I’m not bleeding so I shouldn’t need any cosmetic surgery to fix it. I don’t know how some of the people around here can surge all the time, I’ve only ever gone under the knife once, to get my eyes adjusted to the brightly glowing magenta color that they are now, and the ordeal traumatized me so much that I vowed to never do it again. Except maybe to get my nose fixed.

Gently prodding at the raw patches of damaged skin along my arm, I almost don’t notice the hand enter my field of vision. Slightly startled, my follow the muscular arm that is extended towards me, Tracing it up to the face of a boy who is only slightly taller than myself (which is odd because I’m one of the shortest people I know,) his dark eyes gazing at my fallen form in a way that is almost bored as he silently offers his aid. He’s dressed plainly by capitol standards, simple shirt and slacks, no visible surgical alterations, no wild hairstyles formed by his slightly unruly brown curls. Smiling in gratitude, I grasp his hand and pull myself to my feet, still clutching my remaining designs protectively to my chest.

”Thanks!” I say brightly, reaching down and disentangling my legs from the curly golden net of my hair. ”I swear, I’m going to cut it all off one day, no matter what Mom says. It’s a pain!”

My legs free, I look around for any remaining drawings that might be floating around, disappointingly not finding anything among the feet of the other flamboyantly-dressed passerby that crowd the street. I brush the dust off of the gauzy baby-pink cotton dress that thankfully wasn’t damaged by my fall, looking back up at the boy inquisitively. ”Um, have you seen any drawings flying around? Fashion designs, like this?”

I pull a random drawing from my stack of designs, a fitted ball gown designed to look like a large tidal wave about to hit the shore, the fabric fading from oceanic blue to foamy white near the hem. It’s one of the drawings I’m extremely happy didn’t fly away, my wonderful (and highly improbable) dreams of seeing it adorn the body of next year’s female tribute from Four refusing to leave me. It’s not that I’m a Games fanatic; I actually think the whole thing is really gross. But Mom says to never say that in public because it could make her lose her job as the stylist for District Two and that I should be seen and not heard. Yeah, watching a bunch of kids run around and kill each other makes me want to hurl, but the fashion… exquisite. That’s why I’m in this apprenticeship with District Four’s stylist, why I sketched out this wonderful dress in the middle of the night. I want to make people look pretty. I’m not sure that I want to be responsible for dressing Tributes, though. I went with Lana to get the measurements for the girl from Four this year (Winona? I think her name’s Winona). I only met her once, but it still makes me sad when I turn on the TV and watching her trapped in the arena. So maybe I don’t want to be a famous Games stylist, but making clothes for people in the Capitol is a job I can really see myself being good at.

Jolting out of my thoughts, I look back at the boy who helped me up, wondering why he isn’t answering me. Then the realization clicks in my mind, and I want to bury my face in my hands from embarrassment at my own stupidity. Then plain clothes, the natural, no-surge look he has about him, the lack of speech – the boy’s an Avox, and I’ve been standing here babbling like he’s one of my old school friends. A slight crimson blush paints my face, and I cast my eyes down to the immaculately-layed cobblestones. Another thing I’ve been told to never say in public, I’ve always felt kind of sorry for Avoxes. I mean, I know they’re all traitors and have done something horrible against the Capitol, but I just can’t shake the thought that no one deserves to be silenced for life, no matter what they’ve done.

”I’m sorry,” I say, trying to simultaneously apologize for my insensitivity to his condition and the fact that helping me has most likely made him deter from whatever errand he was running before he saw me fall over. ”I, uh… I didn’t mean to fall.”

For someone who talks all the time, I’m surprisingly un-gifted in the art of conversation. I didn’t mean to fall? What’s that supposed to mean. Blushing more, I tuck a stray curl into place behind my ear. ”I mean… I’m sorry I distracted you. If you get home late or get in trouble or something, give this to your…” Master I think, but the word doesn’t leave my mouth because it just feels wrong. ”Give this to your, um, boss.”

I pull a pen out of my purse, tearing the corner off of one of my less-than satisfactory designs and neatly writing “Zell Thornton” across the paper, followed by my address and phone mumber. Tucking the writing utensil back in my bag, I hand the scrap of paper over to the dark-haired boy. ”There. If they want an explanation, they can call me and I’ll tell them that you were late because you helped me. By the way, thanks. For, um, helping me, I mean.”

[Rosetta]

Luca Bennu Stentori

Luca's text: 50686E
Other Speech: 006363
Luca's Writing:034769

((occ: alright, sorry, I can’t take present tense and 1st person, I’m switching to past tense and 3rd person.))
Luckily, the girl accepted his hand, smiling broadly. She was small girl, and it didn’t take much effort to pull her to her feet. Her eyes were a bright purple, which reminded Luca heavily of his mistress, causing a grimace to appear on his face. He hastily shoved it back down, composing his face to a blank one, which was expected of Avoxes. Instantly, she began speaking, very quickly, and excitedly. He listened, nodding here and there. There isn’t much for him to say. He imagined himself replying to her, being amiable.

”I swear, I’m going to cut it all off one day, no matter what Mom says. It’s a pain!”
Actually, I kind of like your hair. It’s natural, at least, I think. Unlike many of the women here.
”Um, have you seen any drawings flying around? Fashion designs, like this?”
Yes, yes I have. It’s right here in my pocket.

But, before he could pull it out, she pulled out a drawing. He caught a glimpse of it, and his eyebrows raised, slightly. The dress she’d drawn is beautiful, and although he had no taste whatsoever in fashion, nor did Luca care very much, it is a truly lovely outfit. Luca had always liked the feel of smooth fabric beneath his fingers, up until he’d been kicked out of his previous master, Jupitor’s house. It reminded him of Velia’s silky, soft skin. There was a jab of pain in his heart at the thought of Velia. The last he had seen her, she was standing, horrified, behind a red faced Jupitor, who’s voice reverberated all through the house. Velia clutched her stomach as if in pain, as if that would tell her whether it was Jupitor’s or Luca’s child. But, he would never know. Jupitor had grabbed him, tightly, by the back of his neck, fingernails digging into his flesh, and literally threw him out of the house. He yelled at him, the “filthy little bastard,” he was, to never return. And he never did. He steered clear of the house, although it killed him to do so. Leaving Velia behind had been the worst, far worse than the lashings he suffered on his back from being whipped, and the hateful words. It was the fact he’d never get to see her again. Velia had been the first girl he’d ever actually liked. Back in District 4, he had a few admirers, but almost everyone stayed away from him. He was a cripple. No one wanted to say the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing. His disability fueled fear and uneasiness in the people he came in contact with. But, here in the Capitol, he was even more of an outcast. A cripple and an Avox. However, there was much less looks of pity than there were realization, and disapproval, it seemed. Why would someone want a crippled Avox? What good was he?

Luca looked back up at her, his hand inching towards his pocket, but then he stopped short, as that familiar look crossed her face. Damn…there it was, the comprehension, she finally got it: he was an Avox. Red flooded her cheeks, and she looked down, eyes refusing to meet his. And right on cue: the pity. Because Luca Stentori was someone to pity. Who was he? A poor Avox, someone who’d done something bad, real bad, and had his tongue cut out, and must work all his life. Pitiful. It was almost like standing around someone’s death bed. No one wants to bring the severity of it to the attention of the one dying, so they don’t. They stare away from them, they speak in low voices, and they apologize too often. But all the while, the one dying knows. They know they will soon leave this Earth. Perhaps, as they’re lying there, they’re suffering from the same frustration as Luca. Aggravated that no one bothers to not pity them, not be uncomfortable around them. It would make things a whole lot easier.


”I’m sorry,”
Sorry for what?
”I, uh… I didn’t mean to fall.”
Falling happens, don’t worry about it.

Luca answered her in his head, wishing he could in real life. He often kept a scrap of paper and a pen in his pocket. Although Avoxes weren’t supposed to interact with others, especially Capitolites, it often helped when trying to communicate with Yvonne, who hadn’t quite mastered body language and signals. Most of her body language involved accidently dropping something or spilling something. Oh yes, and the occasional glare in Luca’s direction. Yvonne had been the Avox of the house before her, therefore gaining the favor of the Mistress’s teenage son, who loved bothering the Avoxes as much as possible. The arrival of Luca didn’t deter his determination to make Yvonne’s life as miserable as possible.

”I mean… I’m sorry I distracted you. If you get home late or get in trouble or something, give this to your…Give this to your, um, boss.”

She pulled out a drawing, and began writing on it. Luca read it upside down, making out her name, Zell Thornton. It’s not an overly ridiculous name, like the ones given to the children here, it has a nice feel to it. Luca actually liked it. Not too ordinary, and not too flashy. The in between which failed to exist in the Capitol. She held out the paper.

”There. If they want an explanation, they can call me and I’ll tell them that you were late because you helped me. By the way, thanks. For, um, helping me, I mean.”
I’m not late, Zell. I was actually heading to the fabric shop, I-

Aha! It all clicked together in Luca’s head, finally. She drew designs, meaning she probably worked at the same place Luca was heading. For some reason, the thought of it satisfied him. He glanced around, contemplating risking taking out his scrap of paper, and writing something down. There weren’t many people around, and most of them were too wrapped up in themselves to notice the pair standing there. Slowly, and carefully, Luca slipped the pen and paper out of his pocket, and wrote on it.

I’m not late. I’m going to buy fabric.

He always aimed for simplicity when writing things down. It was much more innocent, save the paper be discovered. His pen remained poised above the paper, unsure of what else to write, before he finally decided, remembering his manners.

My name is Luca Stentori.

And with that, he handed the paper to her, and gave her a meaningful look. If she worked at the same store, she’d come with him, right? A little part of him hoped so, as he pocketed the drawing she’d given him, and began limping back down the sidewalk, at a reasonably slower pace than usual.

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[Deleted]

((ooc- I think I'll try 3rd past with Zell, too. We'll see how it goes. ))

Zell was slightly taken aback when her new acquaintance pull a pen and paper scrap of his own from the pocket of his slacks, glancing around before writing something down and handing the paper her. She grasped the scrap in her small hands, magenta eyes raking quickly over the words.

I'm not late. I'm going to buy fabric. My name is Luca Stentori.

Luca. It was a nice enough name, the blonde thought to herself, short and to-the-point but somehow flowing and musical at the same time. Simple at first, but concealing deep intricacies that presented themselves when explored further. Zell tended to dwell a lot on peoples' names, finding some way to connect them with their unique personalities. Her own given name was ugly and choppy in her opinion. Rapunzel, an old German word for some kind of plant called rampion, although according to her mother it was the name of some beautiful princess with long golden hair. Well, princess or not, it was still an ugly name, too long and ostentatious for such a small person, too grating for her bubby nature. The nickname Zell worked much better, short and bright and fun like the girl who bore it.

"Hey, I - " Zell glanced up from the paper for a moment, realizing that Luca was now leisurely making his way back down the sidewalk. Clutching her remaining drawings protectively with one hand and hiking her hair up as not to trip over it with the other, the petite girl quickly followed the dark-haired Avox, her short legs slightly detrimental but allowing her to catch up nonetheless. "Hey, Luca, wait up!"

She was panting slightly by the time she reached him, her body not used to physical exertion. Grinning widely through her heavy breaths, she held up the scrap of paper to reference his previous statement. "I work in the fabric shop! I'm an apprentice with the stylist who runs the place. I'm sorta late for my shift, but once I go check in with Lana I'll get you whatever you need on the house, okay? As a thank you."

Still smiling at the slightly taller boy while trying to balance her depleted stack of drawings, she nudged the glass door of the shop open with a hip, wide purplish eyes darting around nervously. No one in sight, other than a few customers combing speculatively over design books and bolts of fabric. Zell relaxed, nearly giggling in relief. Maybe Lana wasn't in today. Walking briskly over to the front counter, she gently laid down her designs and turned back to give Luca a reassuring grin.

"Rapunzel!"

She winced at both the hideous sound of her full name and irritation with which it was spoken, rooted to the spot as her expression jumped back to the on-edge state it had been in a few seconds ago. Chuckling nervously, Zell turned slowly around to face the source of the sound. "Hey, Lana. I can totally explain."

"I bet you can." Lana Stilgenbauer was pure Capitolite with her aqua beehive, surgically enhanced cheekbones and one-too many liposuctions, towering imposingly over her diminutive apprentice. The District Four stylist pursed her lips, dyed oceanic blue to match her hair that made her look slightly cyanotic, blinking silvery eyes in disbelief as long-nailed fingers fussed arbitrarily with her hair. "You know you're two hours late, right? We've been swamped all morning."

"I know, I'm sorry," Zell replied softly, bright eyes fixed intently on the floor. "I had some trouble getting here from the Backstreets, not to mention that my alarm didn't go off today and I had a wardrobe malfunction and - "

"Save it." Lana snapped, fixing the smaller girl with an icy glare. "I gave you this job as a favor to your mother, so she wouldn't have to worry about you being able to pay your rent or eat after you moved out. But I can't have employees that are going to be two hours late to their shifts. Don't let it happen again."

The blonde nodded, shuffling submissively behind the counter and meekly pushing the stack of papers toward the older stylist. "I won't be late again, I promise. Here are those designs you asked for."

She glanced over at Luca as her boss shuffled leisurely through the papers, trying to communicate an unspoken Sorry about all of this with her eyes. Lana's face shifted from irritation to mild satisfaction as she finished going through the stack, and the taller woman bestowed upon her apprentice a rare blue-lipped smile. "These are really nice, kid. Good work."

After patting Zell patronizingly on the head, Lana bustled off to a different part of the store. The petite girl immediately walked back out from around the counter, half-smiling wryly at Luca as she pulled the lanyard containing the nametag she was forced to wear at work over her tousled blonde head. "She's actually all right. It's just tough love with her, she wants me to be a good designer, and good designers are never late."

Grabbing the dark-eyed boy gently by the arm, she led him to the section of the store containing aisles upon aisles of fabric, shelves stacked floor to ceiling with silks, satins, brocades, chiffons, and other textiles that Zell couldn't even begin to name. Customers usually visited this section first before going over to the pattern section to pick any garments they might want made out of the fabric, thick leather volumes full of Lana's gorgeous designs, and, to Zell's immense pride, a few of her own. However, on occasion some people came into the shop to buy fabric by itself, since Lana's place had the biggest selection in the Capitol, but then they would take it to another stylist to get the actual clothing made, a practice that made the aqua-haired stylist fume even as she counted the money from these purchases. Apparently, that was the agenda that Luca's master or mistress had sent him here to fulfill, buying one of Lana's splendid fabrics before hauling it off to be molded into a dress or suit by some other stylist. Zell grinned amusedly at the thought of what Lana would do if she knew. The blonde decided it was a good thing that she would be the one taking care of the Avox boy's purchase.

"So... What'll it be?"

[/size]

[Rosetta]

Luca Bennu Stentori

Luca's text: 50686E
Other Speech: 006363
Luca's Writing:034769

Luca was right. Zell followed him, babbling on about how she worked in a fabric shop (he knew it). She offered to get him whatever he needed “on the house.” Although he had no idea why, he liked that offer, and nodded in reply, fixing Zell with a smile. For once, Luca didn’t mind the constant talking. It never left room for him, which suited him fine. People always expected him to find a way to answer them, well, if they took the time to talk to him. Generally, people weren’t to speak to Avoxes, but shop workers found it appropriate to talk his ears off every time he came to get something. Then, they’d give him that look. Yes, that look, the expectant look, almost excited, to see how the Avox would try answer. In times like that, he’d nod, or shake his head, or just look away. Give them nothing, and they stop. And if you keep on doing that, people expect nothing. It was a sad, degrading sort of thing, but it helped Luca out of awkward situations.

A bell jingled overhead as the pair went through the door to the fabric shop. Luca was quite used to this one, but he’d never actually seen Zell working here. Usually, he was helped by-

“Repunzel!”

Yeah, the one yelling. But, it was more of what she was yelling that interesting Luca. Repunzel? Oh, Zell. Luca stifled a snort. Repunzel, as in fairytale Repunzel, he assumed. The very same that the girls on the playground would pretend to be when he was little. They’d drape their hair over the monkey bars, and call out for their prince. Usually, the boys would roll their eyes and walk away, knowing already the princesses and fairytales were all lies to distract from the horrors of every day life. Zell certainly fit the part. The long hair, the petite frame, the constant talking like she’s never met another human before…

Luca waited, patiently, as the owner, Lana, reprimanded Zell. He stared at his ripped cuticles, politely acting as if he had no idea what was going on. Underneath his weight, his bad leg seared with its usual pain. It usually was better when Luca walked, dragging the lame limb behind him. Standing still, blood flowing through it, pain collided all down it. However, Luca did not grimace, although his fingernails dug into his fists.

"These are really nice, kid. Good work."

Luca looked up to see Zell, looking satisfied. Lana glanced at Luca, before moving on. Her face betrayed no emotion when their eyes met, but Luca knew that Lana had recognized him, but she probably also knew about his ridiculous mistress, and would much rather Zell take care of the order. Luca didn’t blame her. His “mistress”, who’s real name was Magic Periodate, probably the stupidest name Luca had ever heard. But, it fit her, just like Repunzel matched the girl in front of him. Magic or the “mistress” was never satisfied with anything. She refused anything not gaudy enough, and insisted on speaking in a voice octaves higher than her normal voice. Magic had her skills though. She could walk in seven inch heels and not trip. She could down three bottles of vodka, and not even begin to feel tipsy. And yes, she could wear all the purple she wanted, and never get sick of the color.

Luca was already sick of it, however, as he stood amongst various fabrics lining the walls. Purple peeked down at him on one wall, so many different shades, all the shades he lived amongst daily. Wrinkling his nose, he looked all around, as Zell asked him, "So... What'll it be?" Luca glanced around, finally spotting the silky fabric that Magic loved. He pointed at it, but didn’t touch it. He didn’t want to, it would remind him too much of her. And he didn’t mean Magic.

Hoping that Zell would wrap the fabric for him, Luca pulled out his money bag. Sure, she’d said on the house, but now that he thought about it, and eavesdropped just a bit on her conversation with Lana, he decided money would do her good. Of course, as usual, Luca came up short. Magic’s skills stopped when it came to adding. Hopelessly, he looked up at Zell, trying to tell her with his eyes. No, I can’t buy today. That would mean lashings on his already scarred back, but it was just what he’d have to take.

That was the life of an Avox.

[/color][/blockquote]

[Deleted]

Zell followed the line of Luca's gesturing hand to a bolt of fabric high up on the shelf next to her, a thick roll of Crepe de Chine silk dyed an oddly colored purple, somewhere between the bright magenta of her own eyes and a more bluish, royal violet. Personally, the young stylist thought it was a hideous color, but tried to push the thought from her mind. Rule One: The Customer is always right. She had to jump a few times before she could grab onto the roll of fabric, eventually pulling it and a few of its neighbors crashing down to the tiled floor and incurring several looks from surrounding customers. Blushing and cursing herself internally for being so short, the blonde propped the other bolts of fabric up against the shelf and picked up the odious purple silk, dragging the bolt that was almost as big as she was back to the counter to cut it. Once she had her scissors out, Zell began to measure out the fabric with quick, practiced movements, keeping a running babble going while glancing up occasionally at the dark-haired Avox boy.

"I'm guessing you only need one cut, right?" she asked, a "cut" being Capitol style slang for seven yards of fabric, the typical amount needed to make a single dress or suit. Assuming that this was the case, she adjusted the yardage measure on the wooden surface of the counter accordingly, stretching the silk between her fingers repeatedly as she counted out lengths of fabric. Two, three... Looking up, she saw Luca gazing forlornly into his bag, and then back to her, the message clear on his face. Not enough. Grinning good naturedly at him, the petite girl flicked a hand through the air in dismissal. "I told you, this one's on me. You totally deserve it for helping me back there. Plus, I don't want you getting in trouble."

She went back to her measuring, humming serenely as the smooth silk flowed through her pale fingers. It really was lovely fabric, the finest Crepe de Chine that District Eight had to offer. It was a crying shame in Zell's opinion that such a gorgeous textile had been dyed such a hideous color. For one of the few times in her short career, the young designer questioned Lana's motives in buying a product. Honestly, who would wear this? Four, five...

"So, did you hear about the lights tonight?" Zell asked suddenly, looking up at Luca with excitement glinting in the pinkish depths of her eyes. The floating lights were a yearly occurrence, a Capitol-wide festival that took place to celebrate the beginning of spring. Citizens went out and bought small electric lanterns with hover-lifters attached to them, releasing them into the night sky simultaneously. Oftentimes those who owned or could rent boats down at the marina in the huge man-made lake a mile or so from the City Circle would drive out into the open water, the best seat in the house, viewing the wave of glowing light gradually surrounding the city like a brilliant halo. Zell had only ever watched the spectacle from the distant vantage point of her bedroom window in her parents' house, begging every year to be allowed to go with her friends but always receiving a firm denial. Six...

"I've never been, but I can go this year because I'm eighteen now and I have my own place and that means that I do what I want no matter what Mom says," she stated matter-of factly, pulling out the last yard of fabric and slotting her scissors into the straight groove on the counter, the blades biting into the fabric with a pleasant shushing noise. "I'm kind of scared to go on my own, though. All those people. Mom says that I'm not observant and I'll get kidnapped, but she's totally paranoid. But still, you never know. I'm kind of sheltered, I guess."

The scissors severed the length of fabric with a final snip, and Zell began folding the fabric with the same practiced motions as she continued talking aimlessly to Luca. "I don't know, I probably won't go. I'll just watch from my apartment. My friends all have dates, you know, I don't want to be a third wheel. Sure, I'm clear out in the Backstreets, but the view might be all right."

Wrapping the folded silk in pink tissue paper and securing the package with a shiny gold foil sticker, Zell stood on her tiptoes in order to reach over the counter and hand the boy his fabric. Somewhere in the exchange her hand brushed his, and for some reason unbeknown to the tiny blonde, a crimson blush settled across her cheekbones as her eyes darted back down to the floor. She glanced up at him after a moment, magenta eyes meeting dark ones as she gave him a parting grin. "It was nice to meet you, Luca. Thanks again for helping me. Maybe I'll see you again sometime if you're ever out on another fabric run..."

"Rapunzel! Get back here to the silks and clean up this mess!"

The irritated screech from the depths of the store indicated that Lana had stumbled upon the bolts of fabric that Zell had neglected to re-shelve. The long-haired girl gave a little jump, rushing out from behind the counter and turning to give the taller boy a final wave. "Bye!"

Luca Stentori, she thought to herself as she struggled to place the overturned rolls of fabric back on their high shelf, musing directed at the folded piece of paper that she suddenly realized was still clutched in her hand. It's a nice name.

[/blockquote][/size]

[Rosetta]

Luca Bennu Stentori

Luca's text: 50686E
Other Speech: 006363
Luca's Writing:034769

Zell understood, instantly, and Luca was once more grateful as she took the fabric down. Being so tiny, she had to leap up to grab it, knocking over several other rolls of fabric along the way. Luca flinched as they hit the floor, and started over to pick them up, but Zell had already cruised past to cut the fabric he needed. She was a fast worker, lithe, and quick. It was a wonder that Lana could find anything to yell at her. Luca stood, awkwardly, watching her, ignoring the glances of other costumers. They turned their noses up or looked away, the occasional glare in Zell’s direction. He knew their message. Years of only body language himself had taught Luca Stentori to recognize the looks and language of others. They were disapproving of the small girl working behind the counter. How dare she speak to an Avox. Was she mad?

The thought of it amused Luca. He watched the girl, cutting the fabric so precisely, measuring it. It could be possible that Zell was out of it. Or perhaps she liked to talk. Maybe she was just as lonely as Luca…

"I told you, this one's on me.”

Luca flinched, realizing she’d caught his look, his glance at his limited money. Guilt pitted in his stomach, guilt of not paying. Maybe she could use the money to get a haircut, although he rather liked the air. He wondered if it was smooth, silky and soft like Velia’s red hair had been. He watched her hair waterfall down her back as she worked again on the fabric. He nearly lost her next few words.

"So, did you hear about the lights tonight?"

The lights…of course, that’s why Magic wanted the fabric! Every year, in celebration of spring, when the Capitolites sent up those stupid little lights, Magic always had a huge party on her yacht, full of important people, alcohol, and of course…purple. She even had the yacht, the Violet, painted purple in honor of her creepy obsession. Usually, only Yvonne went on the yacht to serve the guests. Luca had gone his first year serving Magic, but that had taken a turn for the worse. A drunken guest ended up lurching overboard, and instinctively, Luca dived in to save him, forgetting his bad leg. He nearly drowned, and after that Magic told him to stay home. For the past two years, he’s been stealing a small dinghy of Magic’s, hauling down to the dock in the darkness, and rowing out into the water, just out of range of the yacht. He remembered various times rowing with his father, out into the ocean. When he was younger, he loved to watch the silver fish dart around away from the boat. He loved to listen to his father’s gruff voice thanking the fish for his life whenever he caught one.

“You see, Luca,” he would say, gutting the fish. “Fish are just like us. Their lives are just as important, so we must be thankful.”

In the man-made lake, there were no real fish. They were engineered by the Capitol, overly large, brightly colored, beautiful-looking, but not good to eat. Not good enough to thank. Still, Luca did quite enjoy the lights. Their soft glow stretching over the rippling water, like moonlight, creating a sense of ease. Something calm. That feeling was what he craved more than anything. Safe. He listened to Zell talk about how she’s only seen them from her bedroom window, and he pitied her, suddenly. He doubted that the wind whistling over the window could create the same comforting sensation that the soft sound of the water lapping against the boat did…Still, Zell, an optimist he decided, promised him it would probably be alright from her window. The water would be better, he thought, reaching for the fabric.

An electric spark shot up his arm as his hand grazed her soft porcelain one…just like Velia. He quickly jerked away, holding the pretty little package of fabric tightly, and looked up at her, eyes wide. She was blushing, looking at him. Her vibrant eyes found their way to his, and after a moment, he looked down at his package, uncomfortable.

"It was nice to meet you, Luca. Thanks again for helping me. Maybe I'll see you again sometime if you're ever out on another fabric run..."

He nodded at her words, turning to go. He heard Lana calling to her, and listened to Zell’s small footfalls as she hurried off. Luca began to limp away, quick as possible, but his pen fell out of his pocket. Tumbling down his leg, it hit the floor with a small sound. Grumbling to himself, he leaned down to pick it up. As his fingers scraped it, he was struck by sudden inspiration. He put his fabric down, and straightened up, hastily scribbling a small note onto it. Then, swiftly, he wrapped the note around all his money, and laid it down on the counter. Glancing around to make sure no one had seen, Luca grabbed his fabric, and hobbled out of the place as quick as possible.

The note read:
Z,
meet me at the dock at 7.
-L.S.

[/blockquote]

[Deleted]

It took Zell a solid fifteen minutes to get the scattered fabrics folded back into some semblance of order, pull a stepstool into the aisle, and gently slot the bolts of silk back into their respective places. After her task was accomplished, she brushed her tousled hair back from her face and gave a heavy huff of air, trudging back to her designated spot behind the counter. Upon her arrival, a blonde eyebrow raised in curiosity as her pale fingers closed around the folded bit of paper that had been left on the wooden surface. Zell unfolded the little scrap, a squeak of surprise passing her lips when a few folded bills tumbled out onto the countertop. Picking up the money with a confused expression working its way across her face, the long-haired girl glanced down at the neat, elegant letters that worked their way across the paper scrap in an inky path.

Z,
meet me at the dock at 7.
-L.S.

Magenta eyes widened in surprise, raking again and again over the note’s content just to be sure she’d read it correctly. Zell smiled, elation flooding her features as she folded the paper and tucked it gently into her purse before launching herself from behind the counter. Her legs carried her through the staff only door and down the hallway to Lana’s office, where she knocked frantically and hopped with excitement from one foot to the other until the older stylist’s aqua-colored head poked out around the door. ”What?”

”CanIpleaseborrowadressfromthecloset?!” Zell’s request was a high-pitched mash up of blurred words, tiny hands clasped imploringly in a gesture of supplication to her boss as innocent pinkish eyes glimmered up at the taller woman from a foot below. Lana seemed to be either overwhelmed or unaffected, silvery orbs beaming down on her apprentice as she cocked a single aqua eyebrow.

”It’smyfirsttimegoingtothelightspleasepleaseplease!” The petite blonde wailed, giving a little bounce on each “please.” The closet full of Lana’s premade dresses was tucked away in the back of the store, the garments already constructed for those who didn’t want to pay for custom work. Even though these clothes were generally cheaper they were still fabulous, the racks full of sparkly party dresses that Zell had seen her friends wear as the went downtown for the festival each year. There had to be a perfect one in there somewhere, she knew it. ”I’ll never be late again, I promise!”

Lana sighed, bringing a blue-nailed hand up to rub circles across an overly face lifted temple. Blinking quietly for a few seconds, she looked to be weighing her options before she made a decision, sighing heavily. ”Fine. I was going to close up early for the festival anyway. Just be careful with whatever you pick and bring it back in decent condition, or it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

Zell cut the aqua-haired woman off by throwing petite arms around her alarmingly thin waist, hugging her tightly and squealing for joy before sprinting back down the hallway as fast as her short legs would carry her. ”Thank you so much, Lana!”

She rocketed back into the main lobby of the shop in a golden blur, quickly running up to the door and flipping over the sign so it now read “Closed” to the passerby outside before weaving her way beck through the aisles towards the large archway that led to the premade clothing section. Zell shuffled quickly back to the rack full of petite-sized party frocks, reverently smoothing the gorgeous fabrics between her palms. With all the jewel toned jacquards and neon satins in every shape and size, how could she choose just one? But then there it was, shining like a beacon amidst the other garments. The dress was relatively simple compared to the gaudiness of the others, a light pastel pink chiffon that was layered multiple times so it would have a floaty appearance, the skirt falling to just below the knees. It was strapless with a sweetheart neckline and little pink beads stitched intricately all over the bodice, giving the dress a soft shimmer under the shop’s fluorescent lighting. Inhaling an awed breath, Zell silently removed it from the hanger, already liking the way the layers of sheer silk felt against her skin. IT was perfect.

She made a quick run to the other side of the huge room to grab a pair of matching pink shoes and a wrap in case the weather turned cold, gently setting all of the items in one of the store’s plastic bag and carrying it out onto the street with the same care one would take with a baby. The petite girl walked carefully all the way back along the fifteen-minute walk to her apartment, hopping on the first available elevator and riding up to the fifteenth floor. Zell’s door creaked a bit as she opened it, stepping into an apartment that was somewhat shabby by Capitol standards but still clean and homey. Kicking off her sandals and padding up the small hallway to her room, she chanced a glance at the clock on the wall. Four-thirty. She had plenty of time.

Six forty-five found Zell frantically jamming her tiny feet into the pink kitten heels, flying into her bathroom for a last minute makeup check. She hadn’t meant to take this long, but this was her first time at the lights and she had just wanted everything to be perfect. It turned out that flat ironing four and a half feet of hair took a few hours, not to mention the time it had taken to attain the soft pink glow of expertly applied makeup that emanated from her pale visage. Deciding against dragging the sheer chiffon wrap along with her, Zell nabbed her purse from her dresser and raced out the door, speeding downwards through the apartment building to join the mass of migrating people on the street outside. It was only a short walk to the lake, and when she first caught sight of all the brightly-illuminated boats bobbing in the water she couldn’t hold back a gasp. This was it, the event she’d been dreaming about for years. Resisting the temptation to play with her newly-straightened hair and mess it up, she took a few tentative steps onto the dock’s wooden surface, purple-pink eyes wide as saucers and glimmering with reflected party lights as she drank in the scene around her. There was only one missing piece left in the puzzle.

Leaning up against a wooden post and surveying the crowd for a familiar head of dark curls, Zell waited.

[/blockquote][/size]

[Rosetta]

Luca Bennu Stentori

Luca's text: 50686E
Other Speech: 006363
Luca's Writing:034769

“Luca!” Magic’s voice rang up the stairs, and Luca winced as the annoyingly high frequencies of it reached his ears. He gripped the edge the his bed, coming up out of his curl-ups. Slowly sliding his good leg under him, Luca hauled himself to his feet, grimacing slightly. He hadn’t even gotten to twenty-five yet, and she wants him already? After returning home from the fabric shop, Magic had Yvonne have it made into a gaudy dress. Then, she had insisted upon having it covered in reflective jewels. Luca had no idea how fragile Magic would be able walk in that, and was quite disappointed to see the original fabric was almost completely hidden from view now. Sorry Zell…

He hobbled downstairs, not bothering to slide down the banister, knowing Magic was at the bottom. She stood there, decked out in jewels that made him squint, hands on her hips. [color=006363
“About time,” she snapped. Yvonne gave him a look from behind her. “Well, I’m about to leave. Don’t mess up anything. And I expect you to be up to help me undress in the morning.” Luca tried to hide his flinch, instead he nodded. Looking satisfied, she motioned for Yvonne to follow her, before walking towards the front door. Luca noted the general decline in her usual straight-backed posture. As soon as the door shut behind her, Luca stumbled back up the stairs. He nearly collided with his bedroom door, before going back into the room. His eyes flitted towards the tiny window, and he sighed in relief to see that the sun hadn’t even gone down yet. Luca dressed simply, as usual, and patted some water on his face. He attempted to flatten his hair, but it refused to be tamed, and Luca finally gave up. Passing his cane, Luca limped towards the front door.

The streets were already packed with people, ready with their plastic light balloons. Excited chatter filled the air, coming from people dressed in bright, spring colors. Luca politely pushed past them, bowing his head. He neared the dock. Earlier that day, he’d hid the boat in a tiny little cove nearby along with two oars. He’d told Zell to meet him on the dock, and from there, he’d bring her to the boat. Suddenly, his palms felt sweaty, and he wished he’d showered before he’d come. Why did he decide to do this? He was going to meet a girl who’d met once. And he was an Avox…oh no, he was bound to get into trouble…

At first, he didn’t recognize her. Stepping onto the dock, he stared at a girl with long straight hair, make-up, and a pink dress with matching shoes. Then he realized he was staring at Zell. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn’t realized she’d get so dressed up! Here he was, standing in his simple clothes, his hair a mess. And there she was, dolled up, and radiant. Swallowing hard, Luca approached her. He lightly touched her arm, and then motioned with his head for her to follow. Then, he hastily turned away to hide his burning cheeks. Did she expect him to get all dressed up too? Did she expect him to be not as sweaty, and perhaps a little more…presentable? He tried to hide his limp, but failed, as he made his way towards the cove.

The little rowboat was gently rocking back and forth in the steady waves. Relaxing slightly, Luca climbed in, and offered his hand to Zell. Once she was safely inside, Luca sat, gripping the oars in both hands. He dipped them into the water, and began to row. It was slow going at first, but he soon regained his usual rhythm. His father had always told him that you just needed to find your rhythm in rowing. “Find your heartbeat,” he’d say.
“Now match your rowing to that. That’s your rhythm.”

Luca did that now. Ka-thump…one steady stroke…ka-thump…another stroke…Luca finally slowed towards the center of the lake, out of way of the other boats. He sighed, deeply, glancing quickly at Zell before looking towards the sky. It was completely dark now, only the stars giving light, and a half moon. Then, there came a general sigh from those assembled in the streets of the Capitol and in boats. Luca searched the skies, and then finally came upon one glowing mass, illuminated against the inky backdrop.

The first lantern had been released.

[/blockquote][/color]

[Deleted]

All those days watching from the windows,
All those years outside looking in…

Zell had never been in a boat before. Actually, she hadn’t done much of anything before, her parents smothering overprotection keeping her cloistered behind the safety of closed doors. Magenta orbs wide and uneasy, she tried her best to get situated in the rocking dinghy, nervous little squeaks leaving her mouth as pink-painted nails dug frantically into the wood of her seat. The long-haired girl’s eyes widened even more when the little vessel glided over the mirrored surface of the water, the soft splashing sound of the oars against the surface of the lake forming a soothing rhythm. Feeling adventurous, she let an arm dangle over the side, languid pale fingers brushing through the glassy water. It was colder than she expected, though, so Zell quickly jerked away and clutched her hands nervously in her lap.

”You know, I’ve missed out on so much,” she mused quietly, glancing in Luca’s direction. ”My parents… they mean well, but I’ve just been sheltered my entire life. I really have no idea what the real world is like. I hate it.”

All that time never even knowing
Just how blind I’ve been.

Her gaze flicked speculatively up to the Capitol skyline, bright lights glowing around the city in a neon halo but slowly shutting down one by one by one to allow the lanterns to be visible. ”I’m eighteen years old, and I’ve never even been on a date.”

A soft gasp passed Zell’s lips, a hand coming up lightly to cover her mouth. Why had she said that? Why was she sitting here spouting off the story of her life to some boy who probably could care less? Why was she even here? The diminutive blonde dropped her eyes away from her companion, staring at her wavering reflection in the water off the side of the small boat. Fingers dragged over the shining surface again, scattering her watery mirror image into a thousand ripples. Zell was good with people but bad with talking in the way that she often said too much. For all she knew, Luca was only here with her as payback for letting him take the fabric from earlier at a reduced cost. But for all she knew, maybe he was as curious about her as she was about him.

Now I’m here, blinking in the starlight.
Now I’m here, suddenly I see

”I’ve never been allowed to go out or be with my friends or have an adventure,” she smiled at him sadly, pinkish eyes tracing over the strong contours of his face. To Zell, Luca Stentori looked like someone who knew quite a bit about adventures with his tousled hair and glinting eyes, and that fact made him interesting and alluring and…

What was she thinking? Did that really just run through her mind, wanting to get to know some Avox boy she’d run into on the street, get close to him, be his friend, maybe even… Blinking confusedly, Zell shook herself mentally, launching back into the comfortable babble. She was good at talking without really saying anything, she always had been. Rambling was a security blanket for the petite girl, comforting white noise like a mother’s heartbeat or the patter of rain on the rooftop that served to calm her in situations like these. ”I mean, I’m good at a few things. I draw, I paint, I play piano, I make pottery. But more than anything I just want…”

Standing here, it’s crystal clear
I’m where I’m meant to be.

She sputtered into silence, unsure of her words. What did she want? She had gotten out from under her parents’ watchful eye, had made it on her own in her own apartment with her own job, but Zell had continually found herself wanting something more than all of that, something she could never quite explain. She thirsted for some wonderful mix of spontaneity and beauty and freedom and…

A sigh arose from all around, and the last of the city’s lights flickered out. An ethereal glow appeared against the large cavity of the City Circle, the first lantern rising slowly from the balcony of the President’s mansion and over the skyline, bathing all around it in a dim golden aura. Inhaling an awed breath, Zell lunged forward to get a better view, not caring that it made the boat rock violently. Clinging excitedly to the side, a wide grin worked its way across her face as a second lantern entered her vision, then a third, then so many that she quickly lost count, the light casting itself upon the lake, casting both the water and her pale skin in a liquid gold hue. ”This. More than anything, I just want this.”

And at last I see the light,
And it’s like a fog has lifted.

The sky came alive with the warm glow, lanterns rising in myriads with beating hearts of fire all around her; golden aura lighting up the night in a way that she could have never imagined would be so beautiful. Watching from her apartment could never compare to this, being here in the midst of it all, reaching out to faintly brush lithe palms against the surface of the lanterns that alighted on the water, still burning brightly as they floated on the lake. Zell felt like a little kid again, full of giddy joy as she craned her neck back up to the sky, now filled with unbelievable numbers of floating lights.

”This is… This is completely unreal.”

And at last I see the light,
And it’s like the sky is new.

The glow from the lanterns made the pink glitter that Zell had dusted across her shoulders and down her arms shimmer radiantly, turning the small girl into a creature of the light in her own right. Glimmering in the aura of the surrounding light, she beamed at the boy sitting across from her. ”I never would have thought it’d be this beautiful.”

The blonde shifted her position, settling next to Luca on the wooden plank, the heat that radiated from him doing a little bit to take away the evening’s chill (perhaps she should have brought her wrap after all). She painstakingly turned her attention from the sky’s golden beauty to study the dark-haired boy. The light from the lanterns threw his features into sharp relief, clever dark eyes that told a story she wanted desperately to hear although she couldn’t tell why, a more rugged, earthier air about him than the Capitol boys she’d seen around who often put more work into their appearances than she did with her own. He was interesting, Zell decided. And adventure in and of himself. And wasn’t adventure what she’d been looking for her whole life?

And it’s warm and real and bright,
And the world has somehow shifted…

Throwing allof society’s stigmas by the wayside (it was dark and she didn’t care what people thought anyway), Zell tentatively leaned over and wrapped her arms briefly around his broad shoulders, squeezing quickly before letting go. ”Thank you so much, for all of this. I don’t think you understand how much being here means to me.”

She tried her hardest to fight the crimson stain that spread over her countenance, resisting the urge to look at her feet and meeting his eyes instead. Zell had never been good with social things, too forward and trusting for most peoples’ tastes (like hugging someone she’d met only a few hours ago. That was generally taboo). Still, something told her that this was no normal social interaction. She tried to speak, but her words were jumbled and clumsy, hanging heavy in the gold-tinged air.

”You know, Luca, I’m glad I met you today. You’re different... Not in a bad way though. I like… um… different things…people, I mean. Well, you know what I mean.”

All at once, everything is different,
Now that I see you.

[/size][/blockquote]

[Rosetta]

Luca Bennu Stentori

Luca's text: 50686E
Other Speech: 006363
Luca's Writing:034769

Light filled the sky, masking the stars, but shining just as brightly as the moon. He imagined he could touch it, the glow, and bask in the warmth, but he only met the cool air. To live in a world of light would be fabulous. But that dream was a mere dream. A dream set in the mind of one living in this world of darkness. The light was only tonight. Come morning, and it would just fade away in the gloom…just like everything else.

The lights had always depressed Luca, and he tried to hide his grimace as he gazed upward. The boat tipped gently, Zell sitting before him, her eyes wide, face alive. She was like Velia. She’d always loved the lights. Of course, they only saw them from the big window in Jupitor’s house (he, too, went out that night), standing among the other Avoxes, but they were still a breathtaking sight. The other Avoxes would stand there, crowded around the window, mouths open, awe-struck. Luca always sat behind them, his chin in his hand, occasionally glancing towards the deluge of light. Velia’s smile would be half-way towards a laugh, if she could laugh, that is. Luca loved the way the beams settled over her pale skin, and how her blue eyes glimmered. He’d liked the lights then. That was before he realized that you couldn’t love something beautiful; in an instant it could disappear.

”You know, I’ve missed out on so much,” Zell‘s never-ending voice broke him out of his thoughts, but Luca was glad for it. It allowed the image of Velia, illuminated and grinning to fade from his mind. Memories could get painful sometimes. ”My parents… they mean well, but I’ve just been sheltered my entire life. I really have no idea what the real world is like. I hate it.”

You really want to know what life is like, Zell? He spoke to her in his head, speaking quickly. He spoke of the Games he saw on television. He told her of his fear, a fear not shared by many, only of the crippled boy, of being Reaped. How if he did, he wouldn’t last a second. How he valued his life, how he didn’t want to risk it with the impossible dream of glory, of victory. He recounted a tale of a young boy, tumbling through his teen years, told he was not the son of who he thought, told not to believe it, oh don’t believe it, but told by another to, to believe, believe it, Luca. The boy who fought a Peacekeeper, who tried to keep the family he loved together, but only found a piece of him ripped away, literally. A boy who was forced into slavery, but found someone else, yes, or she found him. But, fate was cruel. Fate torn them apart with sharp teeth, teeth that had demolished much before. And that boy, Zell, is sitting right in front of you now. Of course, she heard none of this, and for a moment, Luca watched her, glancing upward towards the skies, delighted.

”I’m eighteen years old, and I’ve never even been on a date.”

They both realized the awkwardness of the words at the same time. Luca half-raised his eyebrows as she clapped her hand to her mouth. Uneasily, she looked away, and for a moment, as Luca watched her long hair glow in the light, he nearly smiled. She was a lot less smooth than Velia. He supposed he could say he was a lot more experienced that Zell, seeing as she’s never been on a date, and well…he got Velia pregnant. Still, Luca hadn’t exactly been the starter of things. He supposed before she was Avoxed, Velia had been quite the charmer. She knew her way around. Before Velia, Luca, like Zell, had never had a relationship. He’d never found much interest in the fact. No one special had ever caught his eye, nor had he felt as deep as a connection as he had with Velia. Luca glanced once more at Zell, before glancing at the water. A thousand suns reflected off of the rippling surface. Smooth or not…he hoped this wasn’t to be considered as a date, oh god, no. He wasn’t dressed nice…and he was sweaty…and he just met the girl for crying out loud! It can’t be, he reassured himself, why would this sheltered Capitol girl ever fall for you, an Avox…


”I’ve never been allowed to go out or be with my friends or have an adventure. I mean, I’m good at a few things. I draw, I paint, I play piano, I make pottery. But more than anything I just want…”

She scared him as she lurched towards the side, rocking the boat. Instinctively, he grabbed for her, but his fingers just scraped her back, as he realized she was merely trying to get closer to the lights. Heart still beating, rapidly, Luca settled back, watching her, hoping she wouldn’t make any more sudden movements. He watched one light, shivering across the water, began to descend downward towards the boat. Reaching out one large hand, Luca batted it back upward, but determined not to stay air born, it settled on the water a few yards away, its blazing fire slowly being extinguished.

”This. More than anything, I just want this.”

Those words cast a moment of resentment over Luca. How could she want something like this? She’s just a Capitol girl. She’s never been deprived of much. She’s never seen things disappear before her eyes like some kind of cruel magic trick. Luca’s back leaned against the sides of the boat. The cool air danced around his head, only broken by the tryings of the lanterns heat that didn’t kiss his skin for too long. He closed his eyes, but the aura of the lights painted his eyelids. It was inescapable. He sat up, staring at the glowing cocoon that had wrapped itself around the boat. Many would call it a haven, a safe place. But Luca knew; it was just a distraction from reality.

”This is… This is completely unreal.”

You’ve got that right, Zell.

”I never would have thought it’d be this beautiful.”

I’ve learned not to trust beautiful things.

He felt the boat rock a bit, and looked over to see Zell had moved closer and was studying him. Her pale skin was illuminated, turning a shimmering yellow, like candlelight, and her eyes glimmered. The violent purple intimidated him, and he looked away. His fingers pulled at one another, awkwardly. Before he knew it, he was staring into her chest, as she pulled him into a hug. Color rose to his face, and he, half-heartedly, patted her shoulder. God, did she have to make everything so uncomfortable? Her sudden movements were beginning to make him uneasy. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Zell. He really did. But, tonight, under the glaring of the lights, this just seemed all wrong. Why did he bring her out here? This girl-oh, god, she was blushing at him now-he was probably leading her on to believe such things he didn’t dare dream of. She was a Capitol girl. He was an Avox! He was crossing over lines best left untouched. It wasn’t his own safety he feared for, it was Zell’s. His actions had hurt himself and Velia. Should he risk this girl too? There was hardly time to think with her words head-butting themselves into his brain.

”Thank you so much, for all of this. I don’t think you understand how much being here means to me.”

Of course he did. She was just a Capitol girl. She liked pretty things. She believed things could stay. And to her, things did stay. Nothing ever went away. Still, he gave the simplest response possible: he nodded. Then he remembered his pad of paper. As he fumbled for his pocket, he listened to her speak again, stumbling over her words.

”You know, Luca, I’m glad I met you today. You’re different... Not in a bad way though. I like… um… different things…people, I mean. Well, you know what I mean.”

Of course I’m different…I’m an Avox. But, he didn’t write it. He pulled out his pen, held the two up. For a moment, he sat there, the writing utensil poised over the paper. In a way, Zell was different. She had looked past his disabilities and tried to get to know him. But then again, she was like every other Capitol girl…but still…He leaned over and began to write.

I’m glad I met you too. You’re-
He’d kill himself for semi-lying later.
different too.
He paused, then glanced at her.
Should we go back now, Zell?

For the first time since leaving Velia, he hadn’t minded the lights as much. He had someone else there. But still, he wanted to escape their glare now. It was getting too harsh. Too intimidating.

((occ: brb, killing Luca for being so awkward!))

[Deleted]

Even as the first lanterns lost the charge in their hover-lifters and began to settle like little floating candles on the water of the lake, still more filled the sky. Distantly, Zell wondered how long it had taken District Three to make all of them; there had to be thousands, millions of the plastic vessels illuminating the night air. Not for the first time, the blonde imagined what her life might have been like if she had been born in the Districts instead of in the carefully-padded Capitol bubble in which her parents had raised her. Would she be rich? Most likely not, but even now she was poor by Capitol standards with her lack of surgical modification and less-than-illustrious apartment in the Backstreets. Would she be able to go out and have adventures? Certainly.

Speaking of the Districts... Zell glanced over in Luca's direction, watching as the dark-haired boy began to scratch out something onto a piece of paper. She wondered what place he had called home before he was forced to live in the Capitol as someone's servant. Was it rude to ask? She wasn't sure, so she pursed her pink-painted lips and swallowed the question. She'd made things awkward enough tonight. A golden glow emerged in the corner of Zell's eye, causing her head to turn and magenta eyes to glance around for its source. A lantern descended gently from the sky, the bight fire in its core slowly diminishing to faintly glowing embers. The long-haired girl extended a lithe arm upwards, feeling the warmth of the fading lantern alight on agile fingertips. Pulling the plastic balloon down into her grasp, she studied it carefully, pale digits delicately tracing its contours as the light within continued to die away.

"You know, it's sad but pretty at the same time," she mused softly, watching the lantern's light fade to a dim pulse. "I don't think you can really appreciate the beauty in things until they're gone. It's like if I sew a really nice dress; I won't appreciate how pretty it is until I've sold it. Or if I make a really nice piece of pottery, I won't realize just how intricate the work was until it cracks in the kiln and becomes useless. Or the lights. If we saw them every day, they wouldn't be nearly as beautiful. They'd just... they'd jut be, you know?"

Zell's rambling was more complex than usual, her words more thought-out and meaningful than her usual unceasing babble. She wasn't sure what had prompted the statement, but as the lantern in her hands sputtered and finally died, she realized that it was probably her subconscious justifying her reason for being here. She'd never really appreciate how awe-inspiring the lights were until she watched one snuff itself out, never again to light up the darkness. Tucking the extinguished light next to her feet in the floor of the boat, she looked back up at Luca with a somewhat bashful grin. "I know it sounds stupid, but I've always liked broken things better. They're more beautiful because they tell a story. Like this bracelet, I got it from Lana for free because the jewel in it is broken, but I think it's prettier this way because it catches the light differently and makes all sorts of cool patterns and..."

She saw the piece of paper extending from his hand and cut herself off, leaning forward and squinting her eyes to read the neatly-printed letters in the wavering golden glow. I'm glad I met you too. You're different, too. Should we go back now, Zell?

"Oh! Oh, yeah, sure! It's getting cold out here, anyway," Zell said hurriedly, blonde head nodding in assent. As the little rowboat glided smoothly back towards the docks, she reached down next to her and ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the lantern again, the plastic still holding a bit of the extinguished light's warmth. She'd keep the dead lantern as a souvenir, she decided, put it in her room or something.

She didn't talk for the rest of the trip back to shore, the silence between Luca and herself more comfortable than awkward. Pinkish-purple eyes glanced longingly back at the shrinking golden corona that surrounded the skyline, hands traveling up absently to braid a small strand of golden hair. Zell jumped in surprise when she felt the boat make contact against the dock, and she quickly scrambled to her feet, collecting the lantern from the floor and hopping out onto the dock's surface. The sensation of being on land again actually felt rather odd, the solid planks seeming to sway fluidly beneath her feet.

"Ah, that's a shame, I had money on her," said a nearby woman, nodding her lime-green beehive towards the giant screen positioned on the side of a building near the dock as she continued to babble to her lavender-haired friend. Zell quirked an eyebrow and glanced up at the screen to see an instant replay from a Games update, the time stamp on the video from less than an hour before. The tall Asian boy from five swiftly brought his axe down upon a pretty blonde girl, assisted in snuffing out her life by that poor girl from Twelve who had lost her legs a few days back.

"Oh no!" Zell gasped in horror, a pale hand jumping up to cover her mouth as her eyes darted nervously around. Her mother had never allowed her to talk about the Games in public, fearing that her daughter's unnatural sympathy for the tributes might cost her career as the stylist for District Two. Lowering her voice to a whisper as crystalline tears welled up in her eyes, Zell couldn't turn her glance away from the looped replay of the girl's light going out over and over and over again. "That girl from Four... Winona... I knew her. Well, I met her, the day Lana and I went to get her measurements."

She swayed on her feet a little both from shock and still getting used to being on solid ground, a single tear spilling over and tracing a hot, salty line down her cheek. "She was so pretty... such a sweet girl, so nice... I wanted her to win."

Suddenly remembering where she was, Zell snapped to a tense attention, hurriedly wiping away the moisture that sat on her skin. "Sorry, I'm being stupid. Did you want to do something else, Luca? If not I was just planning on going home and working on some designs..."

Her voice trailed off, still distant and absent of its usual chipper soprano edge. No matter how hard Zell tried to focus on other things, all she could think of was her brief encounter with the blonde girl from Four, her pretty smile, her laugh, how sweet she had been to her and Lana throughout the whole process of getting her measure, the stories they had heard about her parents and her home. Had Winona been a Capitolite, Zell could imagine the two of them being friends. And now she was dead, as dead as the burned-out lantern that the long-haired girl held in her hands.

Beauty was tragic, she decided. You never know it's there until it's gone.

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[Rosetta]

The water lapped up against the side of a boat, mimicking the rhythm Luca had created earlier when he was rowing. His bad leg for once wasn't filled with tear-jerking pain. His body was at ease, trapped in this soft world of color, but his mind was in tumult. He had made the wrong decision. He should've left this Capitol girl alone. He found himself seized by fear, an uncommon thing. Fear was usually deflected off of Luca's outer shell, the walls he'd build to protect himself, but every once in a while, it seeped in, and choked him. This girl was a Capitol girl. He had no right taking her out here. He had no right keeping this up with her. Whatever this was. This...friendship.

No. He didn't like the word. He was getting ahead of himself. Perhaps he was selfish, caring only for his safety, but wasn't her reputation in jeopardy as well? She had no right either accepting his invitation. Perhaps she was a stupid girl after all, living in a fantasy, living a life she thought was beautiful, that she tried to make the best of, while the real truth was clear. In that case, Luca was a fool as well. He watched the girl cradling a light in her arms. She was a delicate thing, bathed in that soft light. So easily breakable. Luca tuned out most of her words, as she spoke of beauty, of broken beauty. It reminded him too much of Velia. Of her own beauty that was natural, but also torn, destroyed. She had soft skin, skin like silk, but she shared that same rough scars as Luca. But they weren't always physical. Those scars hid deeper, under many layers, and couldn't heal. They weren't scars. They were open wounds, bleeding wounds. And even worse: they never stopped hurting. There were times when he could gently pull her down onto her bed with him, kiss her, touch her. There were times when she pulled him to her, and traced the birthmarks on his body. But there were also times when she refused his touch. When she stared out at the rain and nothing could pull her from this state. But, he had similar days. In a way, Velia and Luca were one. They were both Avoxes, and they both experienced that same pain, suffering and emotion. But now, Velia was gone. And Luca was left to deal with these himself. Slowly and carefully, Luca placed his note in her hand and watched her vibrant eyes flick over it.

"Oh! Oh, yeah, sure! It's getting cold here, anyway."

Without realizing his actions, just moving instinctively, Luca pulled off his coat, and draped it over her thin shoulders. However, as soon as he'd done it, he regretted it. In doing so, he was continuing the gambles he had told himself to stop. But, some other force seemed to have stopped him from obeying himself. What in the world- Whatever it was, Luca resented it. Luca hated the lack of control he even had over himself. He knew he couldn't control the world. He couldn't even wish to tame the fierce winds that whipped around every being, deciding their fate. But, his father had always told him that he had control over himself. No, not the things that happened to him. He couldn't stop the Peacekeepers from cutting out his tongue, or protect Velia from Jupitor, or even prevent Zell from dropping all her designs this morning. But, he could command how he acted. He could've left Zell, never to see her again. He could've stayed home tonight. He could've kept his coat. But, no, that other force dominated him now. If only he knew what it was...

His mind was elsewhere as he rowed back to shore. His thoughts found themselves into his rhythm. Thump...why does she stare at me like that...thump...oh gosh, and when she blushes...Thump...and sure, she's pretty and all...Thump...just a stupid Capitol girl...Thump...I'm an idiot as well...Thump... Once at the dock, Luca left the boat there. He could retrieve it when Magic was too hung over to function properly. He watched Zell's hair slide down her back, and fall nearly to the floor. He wondered how long it took her to grow it. Maybe she put some weird Capitol products onto it, to help it along, like some freakish plant or something. The thought amused Luca. He nearly smiled.

"Ah, that's a shame, I had money on her."

That brief pleasant moment was almost instantly shattered from a woman's shout. Luca's attention was drawn to a screen, and saw it all. The Games. He swallowed at once, knowing who'd it been this time, recognizing her. Winona. She was from District 4. He'd seen her only in passing, never exchanging words or looks. She probably just saw him as a cripple, like everyone else. Zell's distraught face astonished him. She'd known her? Zell, little Capitolite Zell, was actually feeling sympathy for this girl? He understand her sympathy for him. Luca was a mere Avox. A cripple. But, Winona? He supposed it had to do with the words exchanged. Words, no matter how little, mean much. A hello could mean the world to someone. Words were a beautiful thing, and people seldom took the time to appreciate them. Luca did, Luca loved them. He knew what it was like to lose them. He'd never known it possible that a Capitolite could feel much sympathy, having all they could ever want. It appeared nearly impossible. But, Zell's sudden distress brought Luca to a conclusion that he'd ignored: they were only human. Or at least Zell was. A surge of gratitude built up in his chest for caring, for the fact he'd finally met someone other than Velia in this city who understood. Perhaps she wasn't the stupid girl he'd previously thought...

"Sorry, I'm being stupid. Did you want to do something else, Luca? If not I was just planning on going home and working on some designs..."

Before Luca could figure out an answer, the slurred voice of a man drifted through the air. "Hey, blondie!" Luca knew right away the group of men, drinking by the dock nearby were addressing Zell. Just as fluid as giving her his coat had been, Luca stepped in front of Zell. "Ditch the cripple, and come an' join us, sweetheart," One called. Luca shook his head at them, and gripped Zell's arm. The first man who'd spoken stood, waving his beer bottle. "Don't crowd her, cripple. Come 'ere, girlie!" Luca fixed him with a look, shaking his head once more.

In an instant, the man had advanced. A foot away, and his rank smell reached Luca. His bloodshot eyes were wide open, and his arm raised, holding that beer bottle. Quickly, Luca let go of Zell's arm, and threw his own arm out to deflect the blow. The bottle shattered against his arm, glass digging deep into his skin. Luca winced, but shook it off, shards raining down with his blood to the ground. With his good arm, Luca reared back, and punched the guy hard in the chin. He hadn't realized he was going to do it until his knuckles hit his jaw bone with a satisfying crack. The drunk stumbled back, obviously dazed, and Luca stood there for a moment, shocked at what he'd done, as were the man's companions. Then, realizing what exactly had happened, Luca grabbed Zell's arm again and began to hobble away, pulling her alongside him.

"You Avox!" One man shouted behind them, understanding. Luca's stomach lurched, and he quickened his delayed pace. "You'll pay for this!" Luca didn't stop until they'd reached an alley, shadowed and safe. He took a moment to regain his breath, then his eyes found his cut arm. Stupid men...Luca was used to the abuse of the Capitol residents, but fury invaded him that they dared to go after Zell. Still, he wished he pulled Zell away at the first chance rather than stay. Now, they realized. They knew an Avox was with a Capitol girl. It wouldn't look good for him nor Zell...

Refusing to meet her eyes, Luca gripped the largest shard of glass in his arm, and wrenched it out. Pain shot up his arm. Tears burst forward to his eyes, but he didn't shed them. He dropped the glass, and clasped the bloody cut, trying to staunch the blood flow. He watched the substance squeeze itself through his fingers, trying to escape. Luca listened to his quick heart beat. He studied his breathing. He saw a rat run past. Finally, he found it in himself to meet Zell's eyes. The violet color and the innocence of her face was too much. He glanced down, ashamed, unsure of what to do or say. He'd really screwed up. With only one thing left to do, Luca held his head up at Zell, and mouthed to her,

I'm sorry, Zell.

((occ: alright, I know I power-played just a bit here. I’ll change it if you like. That burst of muse just popped into my head at that time. Just let me know if you want me to change it!))

[Deleted]

She lives in a fairytale
Somewhere too far for us to find
Forgotten the taste and smell
Of a world that she's left behind

Zell had never been one to deal with conflict. It was for this reason that she remained staring in studded silence at the confrontation in front of her, only jolting back to reality when Luca's hand closed over hers and he dragged her down a side street. They both paused momentarily, eyes locked in wordless conversation that neither of them seemed to be able to accurately translate. The alleyway was poorly-lit, but there was enough light from a flickering street lamp some distance away for her to watch his movements. I'm sorry, Zell.

"Oh, no! Don't apologize!" Zell squeaked frantically, watching the motions of his lips as he tried to convey remorse for something he hadn't done. "I mean... I'm not really sure what went on back there, but I think you might have saved my life or something. Mom always said that there were ruffians and thugs out there and that's why I shouldn't go out. I guess she was right."

Magenta eyes fixed pointedly on where a stream of blood that looked black in the darkness leaked between Luca's fingers. Apparently the wound was worse than he wanted her to know. Refusing to think about the consequences the action would have later, she stooped over and grabbed the silky inner lining of her dress, ripping off a long strip with a tragic sound that spoke of an absolutely measly next paycheck when Lana found out about this. Zell reached over and gently moved Luca's hand aside, wrapping the fabric around his arm as tightly as she could, nimble fingers tying the makeshift dressing together. "I'm afraid that'll only help for so long. Come on, I've got stuff we can patch your arm up with back at my apartment."

She carefully latched her hand around the wrist of his unhurt arm, guiding him out of the alley. Zell hadn't realized until this moment how delayed the pace of Luca's walking was, and she noted with a downward glance that he had a very noticeable limp. Blonde eyebrows arching up, she found herself curious as to what had caused it, but knew it would be rude to ask. The small heels of her shoes made sharp clicking noises against the pavement as the pair of them wound their way through virtually empty streets (everyone was at the festival, why would they be standing around in the seedier part of the city when there were more fun things to do?), eventually coming to a halt in front of the towering concrete eyesore of Zell's building.

Even the doorman was gone, she noticed, eyes darting around nervously as she pulled Luca across the lobby and into an elevator. Zell knew her parents had eyes all over the place, and that a report of their daughter dragging some nameless boy back to her apartment wouldn't go over well. The petite blonde sighed in relief as the doors slid closed, slumping against the wall of the elevator as she jabbed the button for the fifteenth floor and gave Luca a shaky smile. "Well, this has certainly been an adventure."

There was a certain comfort and steadiness in the way her door creaked open, aged hinges greeting her like an old friend. The sight of fashion designs and other drawings taped haphazardly to every wall, along with homemade pottery adorning the tables made her feel much more in her element than she'd felt in recent hours. After all of tonight's excitement, it was good to be home. Zell sighed in relief that getting Luca here seemed to have gone off without a hitch, motioning briefly for him to take a seat at her tiny kitchen table while she hurried off to the bathroom for medical supplies. Fortunately, the contents of a thousand first aid kits were something that Zell was never short on. Being the consummate klutz, the long-haired girl had accrued a collection of bandages, gauze, peroxide, and antibacterial ointments that probably rivaled a doctor's office. Not knowing what she'd need, Zell simply grabbed most of the contents of her medicine cabinet, walking back down the hallway and dumping the armload of supplies on the table.

"Okay, let's get a look at what we're dealing with," she tried to smile, delicate digits undoing the knot of the crimson-stained fabric. Zell had to bite back a horrified gasp when the makeshift bandage fell away, purple-pink orbs widening as her bottom lip was clamped between her teeth. "Oh, Luca. This isn't good. You might need stitches, and I don't think I can -"

It certainly wasn't the most gruesome thing she'd ever seen (after eighteen years of the Hunger Games, how could it be?), but the cut was deeper than she'd thought, opening a long red gash along the back of Luca's arm. Zell hated herself for tearing up, but the insistent voice of her conscience in the back of her head hissing this is all your fault made the liquid fire licking at the back of her eyes all the more stubborn. "I'm so sorry, I can't believe I didn't - Oh, wait!"

Her gaze fell upon a small white tube laying among the other supplies on the table, and her hand shot out for it, bringing it closer so she could examine the label. "Derma glue! They used this stuff when I fell through a glass table and cut my foot open. I had the scar removed a bit later, but the cut was about as deep as the one on your arm, so it should work perfectly!"

Reveling in their sudden good fortune, her tears dissipated. Zell glanced up in Luca's direction, again trying to smile but getting only a watery half-grin as she shuffled around for more supplies. "I know I'm not a doctor by any stretch of the imagination. But do you trust me?"

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