forever and never [[zoe]] BLITZING

[florentine, d4b ❁]

( B E H I N D A N A M E ) Ivy Soren
( S U G A R A N D S P I C E ) Female
( J U S T A N U M B E R ) Seventeen
( L O N G W A Y H O M E ) District Nine

Thinking
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Talking
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( L O O K I N T O T H E M I R R O R )

The birds fly south in winter, here. So where do they fly if you live in the south? Do they fly west, or just keep flying south until they find whether they where to begin with, all around the world? I'll never know, because I'll never travel south to see them. I was born here. I'll die here, if I'm lucky. If not, I'll be carted away into the arena and be forced to become even more like my father than I already am. A monster, a villain, a terrible, terrible person. Because I know what I would do, if it were my name called at the next reaping. I would smile, like I do every year, after the names are called. For the same reason, too. Because, like every year so far, the name of the female tribute means one thing and one thing only to me; that Indigo's name was still in the great bowl with all of the rest. That she was safe for another year, not condemned to dying or becoming somebody that she is not. After I had smiled for a moment and looked over at my sister in relief, it would hit me. Maybe it would take longer than that.

Perhaps it would only be when I have to say goodbye to my sister, my mother, that I would truly relise my sentence. It would serve me right. I, like my father have been sentenced to travelling to the Capitol and never returning. But unlike him, I have been sentenced to much worse of a fate than becoming an Avox. Maybe I would consider it to have always been my destiny, my punishment. To become such a terrible monster that I would kill to see my sister again. Because how could I give up knowing that she was watching me fight, wanting me to live. Even if I did come home I would be changed and even more ruined than I am now. I shudder at the thought and pull my flimsy dress into place, before venturing out into the snow. My feet are not bare, however the pretty shoes that mask my feet provide no warmth. I sigh, hoping that neither I nor my sister will ever be reaped.

Surely we have suffered enough already. Surely we have had our fair share of pain?

I am walking, although I don't know where I am going. Just relishing in the fact that for now I am free to roam the district at my pleasure - to meet people. Hopefully I can meet somebody today, someone who doesn't know of my past or my twin. Someone who might just like me for being me, not because they feel sorry for me or they like Indigo.



( B E F R E E L I L B I R D )

Credit to Lalia for the general template idea (again), Python for help with the plottage and Indi. Face-claim is Lucy Hale.

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[✨ zozo.]

timothy feldon district nine

[/i]
i l l s t e a l y o u

describing [333333] thinking [ffeecc] talking [999999]
b i o g r a p h y[/center]

well, jesus christ ripred, i'm not scared to die,
i'm a little bit scared of what comes after.
do i get the gold chariot? do i float through the ceiling?
do i divide and fall apart?
'cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark.

[/i][/color]

People thought I was mad, perched up here on the rooftops in the cold. To be perfectly honest, the cold did get to me a tad, but I'd gotten used to spending so much time above the ground my body almost registered the numbness as normal. My jacket and jeans helped me hide from the icy air that hung over District 9, but I'm only human after all. Really I was just hiding from Dad. Today, like most days, I simply cannot summon the energy to face him. Then again, I can never really face him at all. It's draining.

I do, however, have the energy to stimulate my slowly thawing mind. Hopping up from my perch, my feet expertly begin to patter along the current rooftop I resided on and leapt over the small gap between this roof and the next alongside it, landing with barely a thud to announce my descend. A push from my hands on metal and I'm off again, crawling over brick chimneys and corrugated slates of metal. Sometimes I wish that I could climb higher and higher and higher until I reach outer space and never return to this Ripred-forsaken place. Perhaps I'd met Mom on the way, because I know without a doubt that she'd be in heaven. I'm not a religious person by choice, but it seems so cruel to think that such a wonderful soul would be anywhere but there.

As I take flight amongst the rooftops and concrete walls of District 9, I notice that there aren't many people about today. Perhaps it was the cold, or the snow, or both, but everyone seemed to be shut up indoors today. It's a pity, really; the District seems so... beautiful, in a way, covered in a light layer of ice. Instead of following my usual route, I instead took a turn to follow a blackbird that flitted along a few metres ahead of me. Perhaps, if I were quick enough, I could catch it and set it free again. Although I may not look it, I wouldn't dream of harming birds. They're my friends, in a way - as I have no real friends at all. At least they keep me company, for the time being. But of course, like all people, they eventually leave me. And oh, how I envy them and their simplistic ability to flit off, away from their surroundings and enter a whole new one entirely. To flee Panem and it's burdens would lift the crushing pressure off my shoulders. To be rid of this place and my murderer

[/color] of a father. Keep dreaming.[/color]

In my daze, I don't look where I am placing my footing. One moment I am balanced perfectly, the next my heart skips a beat in shock as my right foot finds nothing but air, and I tumble to the ground below me. Luckily the snow breaks my fall and all I feel is the impact of the cushioned ground shake me - but I am more embarrassed than injured. I never fall, ever. What makes today any different?

I should just stick to thinking about where I put my feet instead of silly dreams.


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loner bitter

[/color] explorer pianist[/color] climber


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[florentine, d4b ❁]

( B E H I N D A N A M E ) Ivy Soren
( S U G A R A N D S P I C E ) Female
( J U S T A N U M B E R ) Seventeen
( L O N G W A Y H O M E ) District Nine

Thinking
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Talking
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( L O O K I N T O T H E M I R R O R )

And because I'm only walking, walking with no sense of direction, walking as though I wish I could walk forever and find no edges. Because forming sentences in my head seems to be like an awful lot too much work today, I start thoughts and cease to complete them. First I begin to wonder what Indi is doing, but before I can reach even the third scenario, I loose track of what my mind is saying and drift off into wondering whether mama is feeling better today. Then I loose that again and go back to looking around myself. And then a boy. I see him, amongst the snowflakes. On a roof.
My mind spins for a second. I have seen stranger things in my twisted past. I decide that the person, an elder boy by the looks of it, has got the right idea. Up, high. Where you can see. The rooftop. I decide I like him, and begin to look for a way to climb up beside him and ask exactly what his reason for hiding for the world may be.
I doubt it tops mine.




( B E F R E E L I L B I R D )

Credit to Lalia for the general template idea (again), Python for help with the plottage and Indi. Face-claim is Lucy Hale.

[/color][/size]

[✨ zozo.]

timothy feldon district nine

[/i]
i l l s t e a l y o u[/center]

In a hurried haste, I look around and sigh outwardly in relief. Thankfully, it doesn't seem that anyone had seen my blunder. As the saying goes, when you fall of the horse - or in this case, the roof - you get right back up again. So I did just that - got right back up again.

As I ascended the roof once more, expertly hauling my body up with my arms as I scrambled over fences and gates, I was more cautious as to where my feet were placed. Deciding to crawl along at a slower pace, bird long gone from my view, I took a seat on the slated, stone rooftops iced with snow. My jacket was just long enough to keep my jeans from getting damp - but the rest of my body seemed to freeze in one spot, not just from the cold. Scruffles that I did not recognise sounded in my ears, much too loud for the scrapes of birds claws I was so used to hearing. No-one was ever present up here except for me, in all my years of scrambling higher and higher, away from the worries of below. My head whipped around, body tense, to discover who had followed me up here.

loner bitter

[/color] explorer pianist[/color] climber


[/center][/size]

[florentine, d4b ❁]

( B E H I N D A N A M E ) Ivy Soren
( S U G A R A N D S P I C E ) Female
( J U S T A N U M B E R ) Seventeen
( L O N G W A Y H O M E ) District Nine

Thinking
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Talking
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( L O O K I N T O T H E M I R R O R )

I blink, lost in my daydreams for what cannot be more than a moment. When I open my eyes again, however, the boy seems to have fallen. He is already scrambling back up, painting the perfect path for me to take. I follow, not really caring about my footing. It is as though I am in a dream. Nothing can hurt me now, because you cannot break something that was never whole to begin with.

My feel slip a little on the ice, but finally I reach the rooftop. I look at the boy - really stare at him as though I can see right into his soul. I do not greet him, do not tell him hello or explain my actions. I just saunter over to where he is sitting and place myself next to him, smiling a little as I feel his eyes on me in shock. It's nice, almost, to be able to wake somebody up. To be noticed, for someone to wonder about me. For someone to gape at me without knowing of my terrible, haunting past. He isn't looking at me, wondering what a freak is doing outside. He is looking at me, wondering what a girl is doing on a roof, sitting beside him and smiling.

Perfect.


( B E F R E E L I L B I R D )

Credit to Lalia for the general template idea (again), Python for help with the plottage and Indi. Face-claim is Lucy Hale.

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[✨ zozo.]

timothy feldon district nine

[/i]
i l l s t e a l y o u[/center]

I'm usually not one to be surprised, but as this girl - who has seemed to appear out of nowhere - looks back at me, I'd be lying if I said she didn't take me aback. I'd never in all my years of rooftop dwelling met another who does the same. I own these slates of worn-out tile and timbre, in a way. No-one else knows the joys of bounding over gaps, letting your heart skip a beat for just a moment when you're falling through space. Soaring, like a bird, then falling, falling, falling. There's no certainty that you'll land on your feet. There's no set path or fate for you up here. No-one to judge, or tell you what to do, how to behave. Perhaps I'll just keep on climbing up and up and up until I reach a whole new place altogether.

And then your feet find solid ground once more, and the impact travels up your limbs, sending shivers through your bones that slide through you, lingering, until they seem to fizzle out of your ears and eyes and you're back to your own self, ready to take that leap again. It's sad, not being able to share that anyone, but most of the time I'd prefer to be by myself. This has been my own place, my own escape, for as far back as I could remember. But the way that this girl does not even greet me as she sits down tells me that perhaps she’s looking for an escape too. We all have pasts. Things we don’t want to remember. Even in the present, there are things and people and places that we just want to get away from. It haunts you – and at least up here, I can pretend that they do not exist. Even for just a bit – and if someone else needs to do that, then hey, might as well share it.

There’s a passive yet comfortable silence between us, as if an unspoken conversation was being told. I’m not a talker myself, and perhaps she isn’t either. The only sound seemed to be the light wind that whispered through trees and the odd cry of a bird that crashed against my ears. Then again, I wouldn’t feel comfortable blurting out my morbid past to any stranger I happened to come across. Why on earth would she want to, either?

"Guessing that you didn't come up here just to look at the view, now did you?" I mused with a smile. No-one ever came up here without having a specific purpose. You could watch the skies from much nicer places around Ten, but up here had become my haven. A place to think. And, perhaps now, talk.

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