My Story is a Sad One{Delphin}

[lyss]

Grady Rim

.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.
Hey, tell me where you're going, and if you know your destiny
Hey, where will you leave your hidden dreams?
Look, the moon left us illuminated, very close
.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.

I pull the bundle of threads that resemble a coat tighter around me; the simple motion brings in a gulp of sharp, cold air around me. It seems as if all the seasons have flip-flopped this year. It is just barely November, and the harsh winter winds already bite into my skin. The awful weather has already affecting my mother greatly. She has been laying sick in our house for what seems like ages now. I have been forced to make our meals and tend to mother's needs for the past week. We are running dangerously low on money, so I have also have to take on mother's multiple shifts at her different jobs.

I have not had enough time to dance recently. To brush away your passion for your family was something that I have never done. I'm not use to the withdrawal from dance, and it is starting to get to me. When I had awoken an hour ago, I had decided it was time to break free. I knew mother probably had a simple cold, but the stress is raining down on me. I promised mother I wouldn't be gone for more than an hour, but she insisted that I take his time. I know I probably won't be out here for too long, for I hadn't dressed for cold weather.

I have on a thin plain t-shirt and a pair of light jeans my father used to wear. I'm already taller than he had been, so the pants barely brush by my ankles. I had considered wearing one of his shirts, too, but the second I removed it from it's hanger, the scent of him slapped me across the face. The scent of chocolate and pine was too much for me. I placed it back in the closet, wishing I had a sweet scent as well. If only dance had an actual scent, other than sweat. I can only imagine it would smell like blossoms and sunshine and grass.

I wish it was sunny now, for it's a quite depressing day so far. The sky is an ugly shade of grays and dark blues. Clouds huddle together, blocking any possible beam of light to reach the soil. I know for a fact, though, that a gloomy sky is what I need right now. If I don't want an audience, then a depressing day is a wonderful gift from above. My destination is a field, or it's a park of some sort, really, near the outer parts of the district. It's one of my usual spots, and it's definitely my luckiest one. So far, I've danced here uninterrupted by visitors. Not even a rabbit or an ant has come in my direction.

A smile creeps up on my face when the beautiful plain comes into view. I wonder why nobody else has ever come here.It looks more spectacular than usual. The trees surrounding it have a rainbow of multicolored leaves, and the rich green grass is sprinkled with a few of the darker colored leaves. If only just a single beam of light would shine down in the center, the area would be breath-taking.

It's as if though some god of Panem has heard my thought and a ray of light illuminates the field, giving it a stage-like feel. I prance over to the source of warmth, my stringy coat slipping off my shoulders. My jacket goes flying when I skid to a stop in the middle of the light. I close my eyes, breath in, and make my first move.

******

I've probably been dancing for about ten minutes when I hear the crunching of leaves, a snap of a twig. Whoever's approaching me is not being careful with their footfalls. I try to brush away the fact that there could be a person watching, and assume it's a stray. I decide to change the style of my dance by spiraling in a pirouette and landing in the splits. If there is a person out there, I hope I've given them a good show.

[Delphin]

Delphinium • Ridiris

Spare me your judgements and spare me your dreams,
Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams.

The door slams audibly behind me, the wind clattering the door inside its frame as I bound down the steps. I quickly slip my jacket on over my shoulders. The new bright blue patch on the elbow of the otherwise faded black jacket stands out. My sister begged me to let her do it, and she's done well. It blends in almost seamlessly. I could have done better, but I'm not about to tell her that. I'm a few meters from the front steps by the time I hear Carolynn slam open the door, racing after me.

"Where are you going?!" she asks, yelling to catch my attention. I look back at her over my shoulder. The wind forces my hair into my face and I grimace. My little sister looks at me with the expression of an angel. She wants to help, but I'm being difficult and not letting her. I never have and I probably never will. When I dig right down into the thick of things, I'm not going to change in the next half of my life. I'll stay pretty much the same, and that's because I am bitterly honest with myself, at the very least. It's a vexing feature to have, and at times like this, I just hate myself all the more for it.

"Go back inside. I'll be back soon!" I wave her off, quickening my pace. At the end of the road, I peek back to find my sister at the door, looking back at me before disappearing inside the house. She doesn't know where I go. Not to say she hasn't tried. I just have a nasty habit of knowing her so well I can hear her breathing from a mile away. I curl my fingers deep into the pockets of my jacket, my skinny jeans ripped at the knee and stained with red dye.

The wind beats against my body, and I can't shake away the tightening of my throat. The sky is grey, like clouds were pushed onto the fire grill and cooked a few minutes too long. The very air seemed damp, as if it were locked in a basement in the back of the staircase. But the cold cut into my lungs like a knife sharped by all the fears in the human experience melted together and frozen. I could feel my feet falling on the ground beneath me. I watched the grasses move and twitch with the force of the wind. The ants scurry for cover under my feet, surefooted and quick paced.

I've been coming here so often that my muscles have memorized the trip like multiplication problems- mechanically. I spend my focus on building up some much needed walls around my fragile soul, instead of wasting some time just getting to a safe haven. It's already better than other days. I haven't bumped into anyone, which was the best possible thing that could happen. The sky darkens, and the wind excellerates, instead of dying down.

I feel like when ever the wind blows, I'm being forced further out to sea, lost among the spiraling waves. I struggle to get back to the bay, the safe haven, to be seen by the lighthouse that is usually my family. But lighthouses break, and cloud cover blocks their light. But there is one thing that darkness can't completely block, and that is movement. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see just that. My focus immediately snaps to the figure, and I stop walking.

It's a boy. Unusual, but bloody typical on a day like this. I cross my arms across my chest, as if it will help me hold myself together. He's about my age, skinny as a maypole and almost as tall. He has pale skin and brown coloring from what I can tell from the sidelines. He must be freezing. The chilling November air bit through cotton like it was sugar melting away into hot coffee. I swallow stiffly. He ends his little dancing session with a move that I would never attempt to make in my entire life. I was good with my hands- extremely good- but when it came to the rest of my body, I was reliable at best.
If I was generous, I would say I walked with a certain grace and confidence- but only if I happened to be extremely generous, that is.

However much I really just want to be alone and battle out my fears by myself, I don't drive him away, and I don't leave either. This is where I come when it's windy and damn it if any dancing squid of a human is going to stop the little structure I have left. I'm unsure if I should clap or something, or whistle. Good job? Nice dance? There's not really anything you can say to that. He wasn't showing me really. Hells teeth, it's like I walked in on my friends and their boyfriend of the week. Whoever said you chose your friends was wrong. You don't chose your friends. They find you and they don't leave you the hell alone for the rest of your life. Friends are good like that. I chew on the inside of my bottom lip, flinching lightly when a tree nearby creaks from the wind.

I digress, though. After a few moments, I settle on D: None of the Above. It's hard to look confident and feel like a spooked horse at the same time. I settle down on a couple words. I'm worried the wind will sweep them up and carry me away, but that's just my mind overreacting.

"Sorry.. hi."

[lyss]

.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.
And despite that good-bye my door was always open, like before...
Yesterday you were falling in my heart and you hid in a corner of the other side
I know that life left us, to know that our love is not over
.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.

"Sorry.. hi."

"Ah, there's no need to apologize. I haven't had a visitor in a while."

I choke out a small laugh, trying to seem friendly. Truthfully, I'm scared out of my wits right now. So rarely a girl stumbles upon my act, especially one my age. She doesn't even look remotely familiar, which scares me even more. I stand still, unsure of what to say next. It would be rude to not introduce myself, but the atmosphere is very awkward right now. I eye my threadbare coat lying on the ground about ten feet away. Flinching, I rant at myself in my head. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Who cares if you would have started sweating? Now you're making it more awkward by picking it up with a tomato red face. Just forget about it. Go. Now. Go pick it up.

I bite my lip and hold up one long, bony finger, embarrassment coursing through me. I half-walk, half-run to my bundle of strings, pulling them close to me. The ball of yarn is compressed against my chest. I'm afraid to put it on, since it's terribly hideous compared to the girls jacket. Mine is so worn and torn that holes occupy more space than the careful stitches and fabrics. The strings that wove it together are being pulled out, making it almost literally look like how I describe it, a bundle of threads.

The winds picks up violently, and I knew I have to slip into the hideous thing. I gently push my arms through the only holes with a purpose. I pause, wondering if the girl could be snickering a few feet behind me. She doesn't seem like the kind of girl who laughs at people to be mean, but I'm just judging her by her looks, really. I know I have to lighten the atmosphere; I have to make her laugh. I take in a deep breath and spin.

It's not a pirouette, just a simple spin that a girl might do when wearing a flowing dress. I let the crimson flash before her eyes over and over. I see it fly off in her direction, and I almost scream. Suddenly, the wind hits it hard and it lands maybe a yard to her right. I pretend to be concerned and rush over to the jacket.

"Darn thing. It only has three months left with me, and it's already trying to escape."

I crave to hear her laugh. I want to know that I haven't made this completely awkward. Giving one more attempt, I press my mouth to a small hole in the jacket, as if though it's an ear, and I begin whispering loud enough for the girl to hear.

"Now listen here. We have company. Company is a good thing, you know? Especially company that's so darn pretty."

I can only imagine I've hit home with this girl now. I'm sure that even if she didn't laugh at any of my attempts to humor her, I've already made it less awkward by complimenting her. Maybe. I hope.

"How rude of myself to not introduce myself yet. Name's Grady. Grady Rim. I can only imagine such a pretty face has a pretty name. Nothing boring like Suzy or Rachel, right?"

I stick out my hand and flash the girl a wide smile. I know I've probably run my mouth way too much, but at this point I don't care all that much. I've done something that I haven't done in a while. I've told a girl she was pretty. It's not like I'm lying or anything; she is very pretty. From the gentle sweep of her lovely brunette hair to the lovely color of her icy blue eyes. I know I prefer to see brunettes with brown eyes, but the shade of her is just so brilliant, it changes my opinion instantly.

ooc: I don't know why, but I imagined Grady saying his first dialogue with a southern accent. That's why he sounds sort of southern whenever he talks now. xD

[Delphin]

And if this box is empty, go out and find another one-
With a prettier design, and greater depth inside,
and a lid to keep it all from spilling out.

[/i]

Um, okay? Delphinium watches quietly as he continues speaking, her eyes following after him as he makes a mad dash for his threadbare coat. Or what's left of it. It looks more like a ragged ball of twine and this point. He must be freezing. His laughter is choppy and uncomfortable, reflecting my own feelings at the moment. "Yeah, uh, I didn't think anybody would be here.." I shrug, twirling a strand of hair around one of my fingers. I always have to play with something when I'm uncomfortable- it distracts. The wind doesn't seem to want to die down any time soon, and I don't know what I would do if he figured out he was currently talking to a girl scared out of her senses. That would be embarrassing, to say the least.

He suddenly spins, and I find myself wanting to take a step back in alarm by the sudden movement. I don't, thank the spirits, but the weather is making me even more jumpy than usual. I should be thankful that it's not raining. I think that would be worse than it just simply being windy. The clouded grey sky does not look promising, however, and the wind carries a hint of moisture on it's breath.

Without warning, the wind blows his jacket straight off his body. I flinch lightly as the jacket comes in my direction, but it lands a few feet away. I take a step and a half to go pick it up, almost positive that my cheeks are flushing, but the boy is already by my side, picking up the jacket. He's embarrassed, which makes me feel slightly better while I stand here in 17 layers of uncomfortable. I fiddle with a ring that's on my right hand. It's a simple silver band, no stones or designs in it. It used to be my mother's, but she gave it to me because it pains her arthritic fingers.

"Most jackets are jailbirds, you know. They don't like staying in one place for long." I find myself saying the words, a small smile beginning to tug at the corners of my lips. It's a silly thing to say. Personifying jackets and household objects was something I did as a child, and I'm surprised at how easily I can fall back into that. More seriously, I continue. I want to say that he can recycle his jacket with the thread guild. They'll take it and give him a new one, I've done it enough times. They can probably get a lot of thread out of that to use again. Plus, it'll be warmer- but he continues speaking before I get the chance.

He's talking to the jacket like an idiot, playing along. My eyes widen slightly, and I can definitely feel a blush staining my cheeks. I don't really have a large group of friends. My cousins usually joke around with me a lot, saying "Oh, it's such a shame a pretty girl like you has such a retched personality, don't you think?" I shove them for it, but we're all laughing. I haven't seen them in a while, not since they started working more. I find myself missing those days when hanging around with my cousins was on a daily basis, and not every few weeks.

I hold back a laugh, and grin instead. I shake his hand, even though I think my arm is shaking so much that I can't move. In all actuality, I'm over exaggerating, and I find that I can shake his hand without too much difficulty, despite the wind. Nobody has ever in my life said something like that to me. Except maybe my father, but really, does that count? "Well, it's definitely not boring."

"My name's Delphinium. Delphinium Ridiris. Like the flower. It's just easier to call me Del, though."

[lyss]

.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.
Hey, your look says you're sorry
Hey tell me if it's the truth or it's just my impression
Say that it's neither madness nor obsession
.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.

She shakes my hand unlike any other girl has. Most girls don't even know how to shake hands. I smile; her parents have obviously raised her right.

"Well, it's definitely not boring. My name's Delphinium. Delphinium Ridiris. Like the flower. It's just easier to call me Del, though."

"What a pretty name for a pretty face. Sorry if I'm bothering you or anything."

I hope I haven't annoyed her to death or anything by calling her pretty more than once. She is quite beautiful; obviously she is or I wouldn't be constantly complimenting her. I've never talked to a girl with such beauty like hers, and I'm afraid I will end up saying something wrong. I watch her fiddle with a ring on her finger. It's simple in an elegant way, really. It's how I like things, simple yet elegant. I smile.

"And what a lovely ring. I think people from the upper districts and the Capitol look ridiculous when the have a bundle of those fancy jewels laced up and down their arms. I think just a simple accessory can spruce any lovely lady's outfit. Well, Del, it's a pleasure to meet you."

I know I'm risking it, but my parents, specifically my dad, taught me to give girls the respect and happiness they deserve. I loosely wrap my finger around the ends of hers. I never really let go of her hand, so my motion is so small she probably didn't even notice it. I pull her hand up to my lips and give it a small, quick kiss. When I let go, I can feel the heat spreading across my face.

I know I've most likely over done it, but I'm just trying to be a gentleman. I'm trying, and I'm failing. I'm probably coming off as a tall, creepy stranger. I feel the only way to lighten the mood is by have a conversation. A normal conversation.

"So Del, tell me about yourself. You don't have to tell me anything if you want, really, but I'd at least like to know your age. I've never seen you around before, not even at school. Well, maybe I have, but not just realized you were... well... you. If you've come here more than once, how I have not ever seen you here? I guess we could have different schedules, you know, maybe you come in the morning and I come in the evening..."

The last words come out slow, causing my voice to trail off. I do find it strange that I've never seen her here other than today. I want to laugh and joke that it was fate, but right now I need to thank my lucky stars that she hasn't slapped me right across the face yet. I glance at the sky, searching for stars, when I remember it's probably not even noon yet. The hole in the clouds where the light used to stream in is slowly closing, indicating that there will be a late afternoon rain.

A pain cuts through my legs from dancing and standing so long, causing me to wince. I sit down and cross my legs, folding them together. The position only causes me more pain, forcing me to unfold them and stick them out in front of me. I give her a look that says, "I hope you don't mind." I hope that she will give me information about her, and I don't want to interrupt her.

[Delphin]

And if this box is empty, go out and find another one-
With a prettier design, and greater depth inside,
and a lid to keep it all from spilling out.

[/i]

Oh, gosh. There he goes again. It's like pretty is his favorite word. It must be, he's already used it three times. Maybe he just had a skipping vocabulary? I shrug my shoulders, and immediately regret the movement when the wind picks up and I can feel myself shaking. He comments on my mother's ring, and slightly surprised, I look down at it, my fiddling hands flying apart.

"Oh, yes. My mother gave it to me. It hurts her fingers now. It's hard to argue with that. Elegant, don't you think? But there are some dresses out there that, oh, it just make me die of jealousy. In those magazines from the Capitol or District 1, or 2, you know the ones? The clothing is so over the top and ridiculous. But then you turn the page and there's this dress and it's just, well, breathtaking. I can't really blame them from liking clothes os much. I've always wonder how much of it is from District 8."

I am fully aware how how I'm rambling, and I close my mouth, biting off any other words I was going to say. We haven't really stopped shaking hands, and I am beyond shocked stone still when he brings my hand up his face gently, and get this, he kisses it. He allows my hand to drop, but I'm pretty sure my cheeks are beat red and falling off of my face. I'm pretty sure that only happens in story books, and the tales of knights in armor and dragons. I'm not even aware of what he's saying, and then I find myself standing over him. He's sitting on the ground, his legs stretched out in front of him. I sit down across from him, tucking my legs up to my chest and resting my chin on my knees. I folded my arms around my legs, fingers playing with the laces on my sneakers.

Relief washed over me. I partly couldn't believe that I had stayed standing that long with out collapsing. I guess that bumping into strangers had that distracting effect on ignoring fears. It isn't terribly weird that they haven't bumped into each other here before. It's a secluded spot, and there are a lot of hours in the day.

"Uh, well. I'm 17, I have both my parents and a younger sister..." I begin, my words trailing off, swept away by the wind. "I only come when it's windy," I feel myself saying, and wince slightly at the cold tone of the words. I tense my muscles, tucking my chin and curling into my self more. I glance up at him, narrowing my eyes lightly. I come here because I am afraid. This is my place to be alone. Why on earth does he come? Just to dance? I can feel the bitterness rise inside of me, and I can't help but think of Ember, the female D8 tribute. Here I am doing exactly what I warned her boyfriend of doing. What a hypocrite. I don't say anything more, only watch.

[lyss]

.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.
That it's not a whim,
Simply say what you feel and that
I never stopped loving you, like before..
.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.

Del starts talking about seeing all the dresses she sees from the Capitol, and I'm actually interested. I smile as I listen to her go on and on. She asks a question that many people ask, the one about how much material from Eight the Capitol uses. I give a shrug, but I have a feeling I know what the answer is. None.

They probably do use some of our fabrics, but why would they want to? Why would they want to use our cheap materials, when they could use their own rich substances? I never care enough to further ponder the question, but maybe I will so I can give Del an answer. I watch her as she sits down across from me, pulling her legs tight to her chest and resting her chin on her knees.

"Uh, well. I'm 17, I have both my parents and a younger sister... I only come when it's windy."

"Seventeen as well." I nod. "It's just me and my mother, though. I lost my dad and my older brother when I was just a child. I was eight. My brother is still alive, I think... He's probably an Avox."

I'm surprised that I don't feel the tears start to well up. It's probably because I've never had to tell anybody about it; everybody has always known. I wonder if she knows the story. I'm not sure whether or not I'd be surprised if she didn't know. We've never met, and I don't think she has ever heard of my name before. Maybe I should tell her.

"My brother was thirteen," I suddenly blurt out. "When it happened. Like I said, I was eight. My mother was going to visit one of her friends. She hugged my brother before she left and slipped the murder weapon in his back pocket. A knife. My brother, Brady, and my father never got along since the second I was born. That's another story, a really long one... Anyways, they always fought. Never when I was around to their knowing though.

I was playing with some toys behind our couch, happy as a kid my age could be, when the yelling began. My mother had been gone for five minutes tops. I popped up behind the couch and watched as my father hit Brady right in the jaw, probably breaking it by the sound it made. Brady stepped really close to him and quickly pulled the knife out. My father never say it coming. I called out my brother's name for the first time ever, and it caught him off guard. Only for a second though, and then he sliced my father's throat open.

I don't know why I said my brother's name instead of saying dad or daddy or something. I guess I was scared for both of them. If my father had lived.. I don't know what would have happened to my brother. A public whipping, maybe? I don't know. I know it's an awful thing to wish, but sometimes I wish it was the other way around. That it was my father that killed Brady. Brady was a little... off, and everybody knew it. I just... I don't know. I'm sorry if you already knew the story, it's just that I never had the chance to tell anybody. Everybody's always just known."

I wrap my arms around my body, trying to keep the warmth inside my jacket. I wait for the tears to begin, but none do. This is always a trait I've had. I've never been able to cry in front of other people, not even when we buried my father deep in the dirt.

[Delphin]

I can't even trust me,
The dark's deceiving,
Blame it on the television.

I shrug lightly, looking at him. He has a weird expression on his features that I can't place. It's almost like a decision clicked itself into place, turning on like a switch turns on a light. The words come pouring out of his mouth, and I don't stop him even though I already know. I freeze, his words chilling through my spine along with the wind.

I'm not a stranger to District 8 gossip, even if I don't take part in it. This is the tale that my parents whispered about behind closed doors. I've heard the story, peeking around behind doors ajar, the smell of baked bread attracting my attention. My mother was upset that we went to school with this kid- the "murderous devil". I guess it didn't have any lasting effect on me because I don't remember the kid. It isn't until he's actually telling me that I even make the connection. My father had little sympathy. Grady's dad must have been.. well.. bad.

My stomach sinks lower in my body, pulling down with it the blood that my heart pumps. I think my face pales. It feels like it did. I am suddenly very very interested in the long blade of grass by my toe. I fear that it may burst into flames with the intensity of the stare I'm sending its way. I listen silently. His voice falters every now and then, but he keeps going. When he's finished, the silence stretches out between us like mountains have formed. The echo of our heartbeats sound across the valley between out mountains. The wind whips fiercely against my skin, and I shiver.

I open my mouth to break the silence, but I close my lips again before I can form some words that make any sense. The silence beats on, growing like it's alive, and breathing in the space between us. I furrow my bro lightly, trying to grasp some understanding that it just a hair too far from my outstretched hand. Pity floods through me. I try to stop it, because if it were me in his place, pity would be the last thing I want. I urge sympathy to take its place.

"Why did you tell me this?"

[lyss]

.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.
Yesterday you were falling in my heart and you hid in a corner of the other side
I know that life left us, to know that our love is not over
Hey, your look says you're sorry
.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.

Silence wraps around us like a blanket. The wind whips my hair all over the place, which gives me something to do. I grab strands and try to hold them in place. It's a game, almost. It's no use though, for the strands always slip loose from my grasp.

I turn my head towards Del, who seems to be deciding on whether or not she should say something. Her jaw drops as if she is about to speak, but she clenches it together again. I practically imitate her, my jaw dropping and then rising again. My pulse is racing at an incredibly fast race and I feel as if my heart is about to rip itself from my chest. A huge gust of wind topples me over and sends chills down my spine.

Her jaw drops again, and this time, I hear words flow out.

"Why did you tell me this?"

The first thing I think is, Didn't I just tell her this? I suppose I did. I apologized for the fact that she most likely hear the story before, and then I explained that I told her because I've never told anybody before. It's true; I've never told anybody the story before. Everybody has always known. Always. I scratch my head, is if pondering my answer, when I actually am about to blurt it out.

I take in a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm down. I'm trying not to think mean things, like how could she not have been listening.

"I... I don't know. It's just been bottle up inside of me for years, you know? I hate it when people know the story without me telling them. I feel as if... my personal space is being invaded. People have never thought that maybe I don't want them to know the story. I mean, who wants a stranger to know that they have a physco brother who killed his father? That makes me sounds like a hypocrite, I know..."

My teeth chatter and bumps rise on my flesh. I press my legs tighter to my chest,waiting for an answer. My answer didn't make so much sense, though, so maybe I shouldn't expect one. I did sound like a hypocrite. I mean, I told Del my story and she was a stranger, kind of. Not so much in my opinion, and if she knew my story, not so much in her opinion either. I don't like the idea of her knowing my story before she even knew who I was. Nobody outside of my family really needs to know my story. But it's not my story.

I sigh; I suppose it isn't really my story, considering I wasn't involved in the fight. I am the only one who witnessed it that can describe it though. I don't like thinking or talking about it too much, though. I run my fingers through the cool grass, clenching a handful of blades occasionally. I wish I could change the subject easily, but I'm not good at those kinds of things.

[Delphin]

I can't even trust me,
The dark's deceiving,
Blame it on the television.

I flinch when the wind blows him over, eyes wide lightly. Muscles tense, I grit my teeth and focus on the solid ground under me. I mentally attach an anchor into the depths of the grass, and I cling to it like my life depended on it. No, like my sister's life depended on it. It's a method of getting through the gusts and storms, and as the stormy season progresses with the coming of winter, I find myself using it more and more often.

I chew on the inside of my cheek. Stupid. Stupid girl. He must think I'm some kind of, I don't know, ditz. I should have known. These stories have been circulating the district since the day it happened. If my parents knew of my whereabouts, they would undoubtedly warn me off the kid; Grady is dangerous, they would say. I find myself understanding his need to actually tell the story, instead of coming into a conversation with it being whispered in the background. It was one hell of a white noise, that's for sure.

"Sorry... I-" I jump from the snapping of a twig above. I turn my attention to Grady, and focus on one of the buttons on his jacket. "I didn't mean to insult you. That's just not the kind of story that you tell people you first meet, is all. I never really much believed them. I was too young, I guess.. When it happened. I was big eyed Delphinium, with a bigger heart and no problems in the world. My dad didn't have the heart to..." I trail off, eyeing him. I swallow, the soreness in my throat scratching against my story.

I stop talking. I don't go on about how I found out from the old lady at the checking counter in the grocery store. I don't tell him how I thought it was a ghost story- a fib to scare me from stealing something. I don't tell him how a newspaper was shoved under my nose, and a sneer on the employee's face I don't tell him how I ran home and cried, or how I was nervous to go to school the next day. I don't tell him how I got over it when I saw the way my teachers looked: smiles on the outside but grey on the inside. Maybe it was an I-told-you-so grey. Maybe it was a scornful grey, but that wasn't anything that I was feeling. I didn't tell him about how I imagined myself in his place. I don't tell him how I cried, again, wrapping my arms around my dad's strong shoulder. I don't tell him any of that, because what's the use? It's just another person who knows the same old story, with the same old reactions.

If you ask me, it's time for a new story.

I clear my throat again. "It doesn't matter, actually." The urge to pay him something back surges through my like a tidal wave crashing over me. I seal my determination, and send it off to the postmail. Another wave of reluctance crashes over me, but the feeling of debt is still strong. What if he thinks I'm a fool? A child? What if he laughs? Hells teeth, that would be so embarrassing. Today has been full of embarrassing encounters, most of them with Grady anyway; what is there to lose? My pride? Maybe pride is a good thing to lose every now and then. Heh- right. I can do this.

"The reason I've been so jumpy is that, well, I'm actually really scared of the wind." I pause, almost praying my words will be swept away. I immediately take the wish back, however. No. Get it over with. Your sister can not be the only one to know forever.

"That's why I come here a lot. The Peacekeeper patrols never go through here, and if they do, they won't find me. I stay here until the wind has died down enough so I can.. ya know.. function normally again. One time I sat here for the whole night. . ."

My eyes flicker to his, for the briefest of moments, before my head snaps toward the sound of a falling branch. Hell's teeth. Please don't laugh.

[lyss]

.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.
Hey tell me if it's the truth or it's just my impression
Say that it's neither madness nor obsession
That it's not a whim
.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.

When another hard gust of wind comes our direction, Del holds onto the grass with a hard grip. I push myself upright again and watch her. Her eyes seem to go back to normal once I steady myself, but she still looks antsy. I smile, though, the opposite of what she probably thought I would do. I think it's actually quite cute. Then again, she could be acting this way because of some terrible tragedy that happened to her. I drop my smile and look at the grass once more.

"Sorry... I-" She jumps from a twig snapping from somewhere and continues."I didn't mean to insult you. That's just not the kind of story that you tell people you first meet, is all. I never really much believed them. I was too young, I guess.. When it happened. I was big eyed Delphinium, with a bigger heart and no problems in the world. My dad didn't have the heart to..."

"You didn't insult me, trust me. I know it's something you wouldn't usually tell people you just met, but I don't do the usual."

Her eyes travel up to mine, and there's a look in them I can't quite place. It looks like she's afraid she's hurt me, or if she's afraid I'll laugh at her or something. I want to grab her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze, but now is not the right time. I give her a small smile and a look that says "continue on" because I can tell she has more to say. She clears her throat and begins.

"It doesn't matter, actually."

I know this can't be all. She seems conflicted; she's trying to decide whether or not she should give me a vital piece of information explaining either who she is, who she was, or where she's come from.

"The reason I've been so jumpy is that, well, I'm actually really scared of the wind... That's why I come here a lot. The Peacekeeper patrols never go through here, and if they do, they won't find me. I stay here until the wind has died down enough so I can.. ya know.. function normally again. One time I sat here for the whole night. . ."

She looks away, as if she is positive I'll laugh at her or something. I don't, though. No emotion shows on my face. I don't think it's funny. I remember when she told me she only came when it was windy, and I hadn't said anything because I didn't really understand. Now I do, and I know now is the right time. I reach for her hand, slip my fingers between hers, and give her hand a friendly squeeze, one that says "I'll help you through this."

I try to think of something to say, but nothing comes to mind. I rack my brain for an answers, but still nothing comes. I bite my lip, thinking, when I realize I'm still squeezing Del's hand. I release my grip and slide my fingers back out of hers.

"Sorry, I just wanted to let you know I'll be there for you, and that I don't think it's... silly. I think it can bring us together, actually. Whenever it's windy, we can both come here and talk, I mean... if you want to..."

I feel a tiny bit of blush gather on my cheeks because it sounds like I'm setting up a date. I run a hand through my hair, and now it's my turn to look at the trees.