Simple Wonders (Open)

[cyrus]

Scrape, measure, cut, solder.

Repeat.

Scrape, measure, cut, solder.

Repeat.

Scrape, measure, cut, solder.

Repeat.

When Cyrus heard the shrill call of the whistle to signal his shift was over, he ambled over to the lockers to where he could put his goggles, gloves, and heavy jacket. A single picture of his family was taped to the inside of his locker, and he looked at it as he rubbed the sweat from his brow. He idled for a moment as the other men chattered about nothing and made plans for later. Cyrus never spoke to them if it wasn’t about what piece needed inspection, or if he needed to make a quarter cut to a sheet, or if the project was destined for the capitol and as such needed to be tagged properly. Cyrus also never had plans for later.

He was still a child, at least, that’s the way the men viewed him anyway. He was still eligible for the reaping, and he supposed this contributed to it at the very least. His father had gotten him an apprenticeship in the wielding department of a local transportation and aerodynamics hub. Cyrus was quite efficient when it came to measurements and precision. He liked numbers, and thought he understood how to put something together much better than most things. The position was a natural fit for him, and as he never caused any problems or raised any fuss amongst other workers, he had settled in quite easily.

His shifts were four days a week, and although he wished that he could substitute some of his school lessons for time wielding, he was able to satisfy his needs with evening shifts. He would finish his dinner and head straight to work, never late (unless of course there was something seriously wrong, which there never was) but never early. The cold of the metal as he shifted it in his hands was a habitual feeling. He could eyeball measurements faster than when he started (though he always remeasured after, to avoid error of course). By now, after several months, he’d fallen in a rhythm that often left his mind so concentrated and focused on the task at hand, only the screech of the whistle to signal a shift change could tear poor Cyrus away.

Now as the floor cleared and a few men entered for a night shift, Cyrus packed his satchel and made his way out to the district streets. He had a long walk back home, and once there he’d scrub himself down before drifting off to a dreamless sleep. Surprisingly he was not quite exhausted—rather, he was restless this evening—and as he waved a goodbye to no one in particular, he felt the cool of the night air hit his face with a rush. He walked along the street in his worn sneakers, passing the usual shops and darkened buildings as he did so. Very few were up at this hour, and those who were he had been warned not to engage.

Cyrus ambled along the sidewalk toward his neighborhood, only to feel himself staring up at the skies. He wondered for a moment if he would see any peacekeeper planes that night, but only could see the twinkle of stars in the sky. As he passed a lamp post, he slowed his walk to stare at a particular stretch of sky just west of the moon. He stared as he watched something streak across the sky, white, for a moment before disappearing. Full stop, Cyrus was thrown off his four thousand, six hundred, and thirty seven steps home to marvel at the sky. He marveled at the display and stood for another few moments watching the skies, wondering and hoping something else would surprise him.

[laphae8ash]

Stars. The easiest way to tell where we were, and now we were outside of District 6. We were running low on a few supplies so I had no problem sneaking in to find an open window or two to find what we need. Using a broken stick we take our time finding a week spot in the fence, nearly an hour goes by before we do. I slide in slowly, making care to leave a marker so when I came back I'd know my safe spot. A big rock that didn't look too out of place, but the color was slightly different than the rest in the area.

Creeping through the alleyways my dress made the only sounds, fluttering in the breeze as I moved. Being surrounded by the buildings was strange. They were so static and dead, not vibrant and exhilarting like the trees. I feel almost sufficating in the maze of hard steel and concrete, but since I"m the one most easily adaptable to people I have to slip in when needed.

Up this street, down the next, weaving through until I see lights. I hold back knowning I'm reaching the down town market. Inhaling deeply I step forward, my hair is braided to the side its almost down to my waste at this point, I'm scared the wildness of my appeance will give me away so I always take care to dress and clean myself before sneaking in anywhere. A few more steps and I'd be in the city circle, taking a sharp left I bump into something in the darkness.

"Shit!" The word slips out as I hit the ground. I close my eyes praying to the Heavens that its not a peace keeper. 16 years I've only ran into them 3 times and all of them ended...well the scars on my back explain a lot. I bring my eyes up slowly, hoping that the scared child act will help. Maybe they'll think I"m lost...maybe they'll think I'm... I finally raise my eyes to the ones staring down at me.

Its not a peace keeper at all, but a boy. A beautiful boy who looks very confused at to why I'm sitting on the ground looking at him like a stray puppy. Brushing myself off I scramble to my feet and debate running the other direction, but this time I do see peace keepers. Holding my breath I look at this stranger hoping he won't betray me.

[cyrus]

Cyrus felt the collision and was taken aback. He knew that he often dazed off, and it was troubling for someone who lived in such a dangerous environment. Rather than overreact, Cyrus brushed himself off and looked at his possible would-be attacker. At his feet was a scared looking girl, one that couldn’t have been much older or younger than he. She was disheveled, from what he could tell, and appeared to be quite frightened that she had run into Cyrus. He stared down at her for a moment, and then turned to look around the square to see if there was reason for worry. A few peacekeepers could be seen in the distance, but Cyrus shrugged them off. He had permission to be ambling out after dark, and always had his documents with him to prove as such.

His mind shifted to the girl at his feet. He could not yet place judgment upon her, and wondered if she was a District 6 girl or if perhaps from somewhere else. He’d never seen her before in his life, though Cyrus conceded that he did not know a lot of other boys or girls his age. Often Cyrus had been the child to go off and play by himself, and it didn’t help he was embarrassed when it came to participating in school. Still, there was something not quite right about her that made him start to believe that she wasn’t from around District 6.

“Are you okay?” He whispered as he kneeled closer to her.

Cyrus should have let her lie—after all, how many times had he been told by his father not to mix with wanderers? They were supposedly unfit and unclean, and worst of all dangerous. How many times had they been told of the horrible things that happen to those who disobey? Cyrus was a reliable rule follower, so it should have been cut and dry that he either left this girl to find her own way, or to tell the peacekeepers that he had discovered something out of the ordinary. It would preserve order. It would reign in the chaos. It would be natural.

Funny enough, Cyrus was drawn by a higher order of things. He was interested in discovery, and of preserving the lives of everyone, despite what they may have done in the past. He’d seen enough suffering in his short sixteen years to have established all need a hand at one point or another. He could not yet place judgment on this girl without knowing who she was, and what she was doing there. Instead, he needed answers. Then he could begin to make judgments about how to proceed forward, and what was the best course of action. Truly preserving order wasn’t just about following the rules; it was about developing a plan of attack that would resolve the issue at hand. And the issue at hand was that there was an unidentified, scared looking young woman at his feet.

Cyrus adjusted his overalls and blinked. Now that the gears in his head had finally started moving, he wasn’t quite sure of what he was supposed to say to her. Cyrus had a slow, monotone way of speaking, and he often got embarrassed just by talking. People thought he was stupid because he didn’t speak quickly, and had a hard time arranging his words just right. He was anxious enough about doing something out of the ordinary, now he had to engage this young woman in a way that wouldn’t end badly. He looked to his left and eyed the peacekeepers patrolling down an adjacent street a few blocks down, and then looked back to the girl.

“We should… get out of the square.” He motioned with his hand, and offered it to her. He took a few nervous breaths and could feel the pa-pum pa-pum of his heart as he did so. No turning back now—he had made his choice.

[laphae8ash]

His hand. An offer of peace. I take it and hold on for dear life, letting the boy tug me in whatever direction he was headed off in. I mumble quickly "I'm fine," but a quick look at his clothes lets me know I'm more than obviously not from around here. How quickly I forget what district wears what. I look down at my dress and then to the boys coveralls. My eyes wide, any peace keeper who sees me will know. The fabric is all wrong, the shades and swirls to delicate for the working class that lives in district six. "They'll know." my words soft and dewy, unlike the boy's staccto clipped phrasing.

There's a steady pace to his walking as if he's done this a thousand times before. Nothing out of the ordinary for him, besides a frightened gypsy girl at his side. The boy is taller than I am by quite a bit and clearly out weighs me, but his eyes are gentle in the street lamps. The golden locks on his head look so much tidier and taken care of than my ragged coif. Suddenly I feel self consious as I atempted to smooth the haggard strands. "I'm Tatum." hardly above a whisper I tell him my name.

His eyes widen like I've told him I killed the president and I don't know if I should take off again. I drop the boys hand as if a piece of coal was inserted between them and look to see where we are. I have no clue how to return to the gate at this point and I'm stuck like a rabbit in a snare. My posture drops as I realize that I have no choice but to sleep in the alleyway or hope the near mute boy lets me know more. I can't understand why he's so silent, but by now he has to know I'm not from here as well. Brushing a stray hair from my view I exhale. "I'm lost."

The words are short, simple, but more meaningful than he may get. I'm not going to admit alloud that I have no idea how to return to my family, instead I am trying to play it off like I lost my way from my "normal" building. My "home." I'm full of lies and butterflies, my mother would always say when she returned from her District sneakings. I'd laugh as a child, but now that it was my duty I know all too well what she meant.

[cyrus]

Cyrus was careful in taking this girl’s hand, and his grip was gentle but authoritative. He was certain that they would wind their way around the street and walk up two blocks, then cut left, and avoid the march of the peacekeepers. Cyrus was by no means one who tracked their whereabouts, but walking home as much as he did at this time of night kept him privy to particular details of movement. They would be patrolling the thoroughfares by now, away from these roads. They winded along an alleyway, and he thought that perhaps he could lead her to near where he lived, and offer some sort of advice as to where to go. He might even be able to spare a bit of bread and some milk if he didn’t wake his family when he went inside his home.

When he heard her name, he gave a slight nod in acknowledgement. At least now they were getting somewhere, and he could put a name to her face.

“I am Cyrus Malloc,” he said in response. Whenever he identified himself, it was always his full name, as though it was being entered into some sort of record book. The Mallocs were nothing special, he was sure she could tell by his pair of workers overalls that he by no means belonged to a privileged family. Though it wasn’t like he didn’t have rips or tears in them (Cyrus was very careful that all of his clothes were just so). Unlike this young woman, he was certain to comb his hair every day and scrub himself until he shined. He never felt more comfortable than after he’d cleaned himself.

Tatum’s hand dropped, however, and Cyrus turned to look at her, perplexed as to why they were stopping in the middle of an alleyway. Did she not trust him? He supposed that a boy his size would be a little intimidating, especially if she was by herself. He never thought of himself as intimidating, but then he was rather strong and tall. He stared her up and down, awaiting some sort of signal. Maybe she had seen something that he hadn’t? And then at once she remarked that she was lost.

Cyrus furrowed his brow. The way that her hair fell about her face, the way she looked upon him—she wasn’t going to do anything silly. No, this was the same sort of look he’d seen before on someone who was frightened. Now he had taken this on as a responsibility, he supposed that he would have to figure out a way to resolve it. He thought for a moment in the quiet of the alleyway, listening for footsteps or a gentle cricket to break the silence. Instead he just felt his heart pound again, pa-pum pa-pum as he stared at her again. He looked at her for some time after as he worked about saying the right things. He always wanted to make sure he was understood, and not have to explain himself more than once.

“Where do you need to go?” Cyrus said simply as he edged closer to her. His idea of personal space was also not the greatest—his poor interaction skills belied this. “I can take you back to where you need to go. Or you could come with me, and I can see if I can help you from there.”

He wondered just where it was that she was going, especially this late in the evening. He hoped that nothing bad had happened to her. He knew that if someone were wondering around late in the evening, and they didn’t work at one of the shifts at the centers, that it was more likely than not there was something wrong. It also made him anxious that she was so nervous. Even the way she dressed made him want to fidget somewhat. She seemed frazzled, and he wasn’t sure that he would be able to piece together whatever it was that she was facing. Hopefully, he could try.

[laphae8ash]

Biting on my lower lip I thought for a moment, "I'll follow you, please don't let them take me." It wasn't a request it was a demand, if I was going to trust this boy he needed to know that it wasn't a game. If I got caught it was my life. They'd kill me...or maybe they'd torture me to find my family...or worse make me an Avox. My voice was one of the few things I liked about myself, and to imagine that gone was more terrifying than death. I grabbed his hand and laced my fingers through his. "Lets go, Cyrus."

We took off through the streets again, my eyes taking in all the sites that the city at night had to offer. It was so different than the woods. So quiet, so crowded, so harsh. Left. Right. Right. Left. The streets were so rigid and clear, there was no way to just open up and run, no freedom, just...order.

Shortly later we stop infront of a stone building and he looks at it and then back to me. I realize that I'm at his home, this cold sterile building is what my ragged tent is to me. Looking at his smooth hand in mine I no that if I were to come and his parents saw me they would figure out that I wasn't one of them. My hands were streaked with dirt, some mud was even up under my nails. I wasn't an ugly girl by any means, so I was told, but next to him I felt flawed and unappealing. I let go of his hand as we stand there trying to make our next move.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you when I ran into you." the apology is useless, I know I couldn't have even made a dent in him. He keeps looking at me before he speaks, almost like he's trying to make sense of what happened instead of just allowing his mind to do what it should. The montone of his voice is disconcerning and I questions "Are you okay?" I'm starting to worry that this may not be the right choice for me and I look around to bolt.

[cyrus]

Cyrus Malloc

Cyrus carefully wound his way around the city, making sure to head along the path as he’d done so many times before. The gravity of the situation became obvious for him the moment she’d uttered her fear that the peacekeepers were coming to take her. There was little doubt now that she was out of place, and that she was not from his District. He had no reaction to this, other than blinking a few times, as was his normal display of emotion after anyone had imparted any sort of important information to him. They came to a stop alongside the grey bricks of his home, and Cyrus finally turned to face Tatum. He released her hand and stared again for a moment, watching her face to see any change in her attitude.

“You don’t have to worry about me; you didn’t hurt me at all.” It was quite true. He had barely noticed when the young girl ran head first into him (though who was to say this was just an effect of Cyrus being strong or his lack of paying attention).

Some might have considered this an act of bravery, but it was hard to give so much credit to someone that acted neither in confidence nor in righteousness. Instead he was reacting to his own calculations of where things should be, and how things should have been. This girl needed help, and Cyrus knew that at the very least he could do something for her. To what extent this would be, he had no grasp, but he would figure it out. Cyrus had always been taught that the world needed to be fair, and that to do so meant following proper procedure. He needed to know her story. His impulse was not, then, to turn her into the Peacekeepers. They would not listen to her, whatever story she may have, and most likely do terrible things to her.

Above all, Cyrus sought to preserve the dignity of everyone. It was the only way he expected anyone else would treat him with kindness and respect, especially for his own shortcomings.

“Please… I have to know why you’re here… so I can help you,” Cyrus said as he looked into her eyes. She was so different—her hair fell in her face rather than being tied back, it must’ve been so annoying, and all the dirt on her nails—and Cyrus saw the fear, that fear of being unfamiliar, of being alone. He may not have been able to see much in anyone, but he could see loneliness. He hoped she didn’t think he was going to do something to her, or that anyone would disturb them. It was still so dark outside, his parents and brother would be dead asleep. He motioned to the home and back to her. “They won’t bother us; they won’t even be awake for some time.”

He figured he wasn’t making a compelling argument to someone running from the peacekeepers. How many times had she done this? Where was she going? How would he be able to get her back to them? The questions began to swirl in his head, and he tried his hardest to focus on Tatum. She had rested her hopes on him, and he would have to reassure Tatum that there was nothing to worry about, at least, not for now. They were safe from the watchful eye of the peacekeepers, and he could figure things out better when she’d gone through her story with him. And he was trust worthy enough, wasn’t he?

“I’ll be right back,” he said after already turning to make his way toward the front door of his house. He made his way inside quickly, hoping that she would remain when he returned. Afterward, he made his way to the fridge, bypassing his mother and father’s bedroom, as well as his own. There were no lights on in the house, and Cyrus kept it that way. The first, and most important thing, was to wash his hands—he always did this before handling food. He made turned to the refrigerator and opened the door. He pulled out a half full glass bottle of milk and proceeded to pour Tatum a glass before cutting a few slices of bread for her. He didn’t worry so much about the food he was taking. They nearly never went hungry in his household thanks to him and his father working, as well as his mother making odds and ends. He was certain they wouldn’t miss a glass of milk and some old pieces of bread.

He gathered up everything onto an eating tray and made his way out to the alleyway yet again, this time holding his offering of food for Tatum. Off he went in the darkness, stooping to open the door to get outside. He hoped that she hadn’t tried to run off on her own. After all, he hadn’t told her where to avoid—and someone would eventually run into her again. He furrowed his brow as he rounded the corner yet again, holding the small metal tray out to show that he meant peace.

[laphae8ash]

He promised that his parents wouldn't awake, but I was still nervous to go inside. Who knows what they were like, and if they were anything like Cyrus seeing a dirty unknown girl in their home was the last thing they'd like. Gypsys were welcoming, we didn't care about the mud on your feet or the sticks in your hair, as long as you were respectful. I was always respectful and thats why I waited cautiously on the stoop. Hoping that no peace keepers came by. He promised he'd be right back, I don't know why I trusted him other than I had no where else to go.

My parents are going to be worried sick. I've never gotten caught or been gone more than a few hours. Now it looks like I'll be here all night. I thought. I see a light flick on inside and it makes my heart skip a beat. I grab the end of my braid and shake my hair loose, pulling out a few leaves and the random twig. When my hair isn't tied back its nearly past my weight in length, I love my hair after I get the chance to scrub it in the river, it shines like the silken dress my mother "got" me in district one last time we were there. Though, now its a little dull and lifeless, its hard to wash it in the river in the winter time without freezing.

As I'm messing with my hair and trying to make myself some what presentable I hear the door open and he comes out with a tray...of food! OH Bread, we never get bread, especially good real bread! My jaw drops not only is there bread, there is milk. "Is this for me? Even the milk?" I don't know if I can take such a generious offering. Especially when I know my family won't have dinner tonight and its my fault. I was supposed to bring it back...but the smell of the bread is so tempting and when he pushes it towards me I can't help but take a piece and sink in my teeth. I close my eyes and savor the taste. The next thing I know he's pushing the glass of milk in my hand. I can't believe a stranger would give so willingly something that some many people went with out.


After several more bites and long draughts of milk, I look Cyrus in the eyes and smile. "Thank you, thats the first bread I've had in...well I can't remember how long. my birdlike voice ring with gratitude. I want to tell him more, but out here on the stoop with prying eye and ears, it would just give too much away.

[cyrus]

Cyrus Malloc

As Cyrus returned, he was glad to see that Tatum had not run off. He had figured there was nowhere else to go, and it would be a shame if she ran off before he had gotten a chance to help. He was taken aback by the way she asked if the bread and milk were for her. He nodded as he watched her take the food, as he handed her the tray. This simple meal was something that he was used to for breakfast, and he didn’t think it much of a delicacy. He supposed that she might not have eaten for some time, and maybe she needed more than bread and milk to satiate her hunger.

He noticed too, that Tatum had let her hair down. He liked the way that she looked now, it was less conspicuously messy when she let if fall naturally around her shoulders. He supposed with a good washing, it might look even better. Cyrus realized he was staring at her for too long without saying anything and glanced back down at the ground. Why was he so awkward when it came to anything involving people? He had a habit of making people uncomfortable by staring, and the last thing he wanted to do was make Tatum think he was watching her like an animal. He also had the sinking suspicion that she was still holding back, despite his peace offering.

“There’s some more to eat inside. It’s probably better if we go in… there’s less of a chance of either of us being seen. And my parents and brother… all sleep like logs. They won’t bother us.” Cyrus moved to open the door and motioned for Tatum to join him inside. He figured it must have been a foreboding choice. Either she stay outside, on a street she didn’t know in the dead of night and risk running into a peacekeeper, or enter a home of a boy she didn’t know and risk getting caught. He did his best to reassure her. “And if anyone were to wake up, there’s always a cupboard to hide in…” That sounded good, right?

Stepping inside, he moved to light a candle to give the two of them light. With the flick of a match, Cyrus illuminated the small living room for the two of them. There was a small couch, rocking chair, and table, as well as curtains on the only window, and a drawing hanging on the wall. Much like the exterior, the colors were drab and uninspiring. He held the candle holder and moved to take a seat on the couch, again trying to be as inviting as possible. For someone who knew next to nothing about human interactions, he was using everything in his power to convey a sense of homeyness.

To him, it was exhausting, and he hoped that once Tatum was inside, he would get a better understanding as to what her problems were. He was much better at figuring out problems than trying to play host. “Will you sit with me… maybe we can… talk?” He looked up at her, and then down at the floor again, not wanting to make eye contact.

[/size]

[laphae8ash]

He's offering me even more food? This family must be so well off that I don't know what to say. So I put my head down and follow him inside. The house is quite homely and would be comfortable to the average family, but I feel blocked in. "Don't you like being outside?" the question blurts out before I even know I have said it. I forget that people in the Districts, especially ones like this, don't get out much. They don't get the chance to feel the wind in their hair and rain on their faces. They just stay in their warm little holes. Cyrus sat down on the couch and kept staring at me.

Was there something wrong with the way I looked, well besides the obvious dirt and filth. Did he find me appaling in my natural state? I started fidgeting with the side of my dress and looked at him "Is there something wrong with me? Well besides I'm scared to get your home dirty...I mean, I'll talk if you explain why you're looking at me like I have two heads."Instead of sitting on the clean furniture I took a seat on the floor, my legs off to the side so I was resting on my arm and hip.

I wasn't trying to be awkward, but I didn't know anyone like him, so rigid so clinical. My family was free and breezey and used to just being. There was no need to try to figure it all out we just let things flow. Which is exactly what got me into this problem in the first place. The candlelight flickered off the walls emmiting a soft flicker and glow bouncing around like sun on the water.

Now that I could get a better look at Cyrus I was in shock. He looked so young and well groomed, no hair was out of place, no smudges on his hands or face. He could be a cherub in a picture the way he was sitting there with not a spot of uncleanliness. Me...I was the epitome of a wild girl. How could someone so strict help someone like me. I'm amazed he hasn't shoved me into the shower area of his home to tidy me up. Maybe thats his plan? Maybe he's going to clean me up and send me on my way? Not that a shower would be so bad. Sometimes we've found a family or two that would help us, mainly in the lower districts. In fact we had a who section of friends in District 10 that would let us stay at their farms if we were in the area...

[cyrus]

Cyrus Malloc

Cyrus could feel his cheeks burn as the girl questioned why he kept looking at her the way he had. He stared down at the floor again, wishing he could sink into the chair he was sitting in and take back what he’d done. He had great difficulty in figuring out what it was that people expected of him, especially with girls. He wished people were as simple as having to measure, cut, and arrange like the metal he worked with. Or better yet if they were equations that had answers, at least he would have a hope of how to explain his problems instead of multiplying them. Even now in trying to help this girl he’d made her feel ashamed, something he was sure was not the least bit pleasant, and made him wish he could stare at the thirty-seven wood panels that made up his living room floor.

“I like our house,” He said in response to her question about being outside. In truth, Cyrus could find joy in being here in his home. He’d learned how to amuse himself when his mother had gotten sick after Naif, his brother, had been born. One of the few things they would do together was to sit and look at old tomes that contained pictures of animals and plants. His mother would teach him the names of things, and dream about a time and place when she would be able to walk to see them. He looked up for a moment to the doorway of his parent’s room, and then back to Tatum. She wouldn’t know, he was sure, the simple joy of a home if her family wondered from place to place. Such an idea frightened Cyrus. He was not the type that could be thrown into a strange situation—despite his logic skills he was not accustomed to running off the beaten path.

The candle crackled and he looked up at Tatum again. She was not unpretty… quite the contrary, for all the rough-and-tumble she must experience as a wanderer, she was pleasant to Cyrus. Sure, her clothes spoke of a different district, and her hair a mess, but there was more to her than so many of the plain clothed Districters that Cyrus regularly saw. He stood again, taking her food tray after brushing off his pants and made his way back into the kitchen. He washed his hands yet again and opened the refrigerator to get out a salted ham. He cut two thin slices, and placed them on another tray with a plate, and next to this he placed a sprinkling of peas. He took out a bit of baker’s chocolate and scraped a few shavings onto a small plate on the tray. He placed everything into the fridge yet again methodically before taking the tray back to Tatum.

He reasoned it would look like a feast to her, but again, it was the least he could do after taking her into his home and making her feel so unwelcome. In his attempt at putting himself in her shoes, he thought offering food could make up for the embarrassment he’d caused her. Cyrus supposed again that he should have felt bad about taking some of his family’s rations, but he knew that his mother was not eating much lately, and that his father rarely ever ate with them anymore. He moved back to the couch and placed his hands in front of the candle nervously, as though he were trying to warm his hands in the pale yellow light.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to upset you…” Cyrus said as he continued to stare forward. He was all screwed up inside, as usual, not able to figure out what he was supposed to say or how to act. All he had wanted to do was to help. He closed his eyes and tried to think of what to say, and slowly moved forward with what he had to say. “I saw you… and you seemed lost… and you were. So, I thought I would help you. You couldn’t stay out there. They would have gotten you. And they would have gotten rid of you, somehow. People are always disappearing. And I guess I decided I didn’t want you to disappear just for being here, because I had bumped into you. So I took you back here. And now…”

He opened his eyes to look at Tatum. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

“If you need to go back to your family… I can help figure out the way. In fact… I think I could even get you back without someone noticing, if you wait until morning. But I understand if you don’t want to be here much longer.” He blinked a few times, staring at her once again. “Does that make sense? Do you want to tell me what it is you are doing here?”

[/size]

[laphae8ash]

Cryus's stammering was so confusing to me. It was almost like he didn't understand how to say what he wanted to say...instead of just letting the words come, he over thought them and placed them in just the right order. The tray he sat before me this time had meat and veggies and even chocolate. It was more food than I would ever expect a stranger just to hand over, my eyes looked up at the plate and back to Cyrus. "Aren't you going to eat too?" Its not right for me to take your food if you're not enjoying it as well." I ask pushing the tray back towards him.

He was so handsome but so odd that it was a confusing situation to be in. So I just bit my bottom lip and let it out, if he'd turn me in at least I was honest. "My family is out past the fence, I thought I'd come in and collect some things for our next adventure. But then I saw the peace keepers and realized someone like me would be tagged for exactly what I am...so I ran and well you found me. I'm sorry that I ruined your walk home. Normally I'm a lot better at this than I seem to be."

It was almost the truth, I'd nearly been caught a couple times but never in a place where I was so obviosuly the sore thumb. If this boy was offering me food, maybe I could take a shower. Maybe I could clean myself up a bit and he might react better to me. The words are like a waterfall once I start thinking about it because I want one so bad. "Can I take a shower? I can't remember the last time I had one that wasn't in a river or lake. I promise it won't be a long one but..."my voice is full of sorrow and excitement at the fact I might get this one pleasure.

Suddenly I realized that I crossed the line. Who would let a stranger do something like that. I screwed up my face and looked at my dirty hem, "Sorry I shouldn't have asked that." I take a shaving of chocolate and toss it in my mouth closing my eyes in more joy than I can even begin to explain. A small moan of happiness escapes and I smile at Cyrus. Maybe I can play the charms and he'll even send me off tomorrow with some extra clothes! I look at him coyly and ask " So you'll let me stay?"

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[cyrus]

Cyrus Malloc

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Cyrus listened intently to Tatum’s story. He imaged a group of people much like her outside the fence, needing food, clothing and shelter. He wondered what her family must have thought having to separate from her. There was so much risk by departing, what if they never saw each other again because of the peacekeepers? Why would they send a girl in to collect things? He figured that her father, or if she had brothers would be much better and less likely a target. While Cyrus had never felt unsafe in his district, he was keenly aware that bad things happened to people around him all the time. It was half the reason Cyrus kept his head down and his mouth shut. The other half was that he never knew what to say when he opened it anyway.

“Thank you.” Cyrus said as he let the girl finish telling him why they had run into one another. He was happy that she trusted him enough with this information. It wasn’t often that people opened up to Cyrus. He was seen as too cold or distant for most folks to depart such information. In truth, he wished that he could understand it better—how to engage others—rather than stare at them or fumble over his words. He couldn’t help but marvel at the freedom that this girl displayed, how she was so easily to convey what she needed to him and not hold things back. She was even brave enough now to ask him for what she needed, despite barely knowing him. And she even offered back some of what she had been offered to him. He took a chocolate shaving and placed it on his tongue.

Her story was not an unfamiliar one, at least, not in what he had been told in school and from his father. There were families that chose not to contribute to Panem. They would roam the wilderness, traveling between districts, and were forced to beg for food. They were a scourge on society because they contributed nothing but wanted everything. They created crime, spread disease, and hurt the economy with the way they lived their lives. This was the way that it had been explained to Cyrus, the gentle rule-follower. The problem was that Cyrus, in his development of rules and order, had but one rule that superseded all others: respect for humanity above all things.

Cyrus had not spoken in the first few years of his life, and was an observant child above all things. He’d been picked on for his awkwardness, and he’d been pressured in so many ways by his father to change. He had been strong enough to take in all the harsh words, and live through the bad times—his mother’s sickness and lack of food—and had come out of it with a newly found appreciation for those who cared for him without judgment. It was so easy to take things in the moment, and to strike. It was much harder to look at things carefully, to understand what all the components were, and make a rational decision. Cyrus liked to think he was pretty good at this, if not much else.

“I’m not hungry. This is for you.” Cyrus said in response to her question. He knew that she must have been hungry. More importantly, he knew that it was important to give to her what he could. There was no reason that she had to be so afraid, rather, Cyrus thought that he could be a gracious host for her. Perhaps he might even make a friend out of this.

Cyrus had heard all the stories about wanderers, and being the logical young boy he was, developed a very different response. If there were people who went without, then they needed to be helped. If they all worked so hard toward the same goal, a better Panem, then it made sense to him that the wanderers shouldn’t be punished for running. They just needed to find what they were meant to do or the right district for themselves. If instead of being cornered or starved, like animals, they could be productive, and happy, like his family. Then she too could have a nice little home like his. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about where she got her next shower, or if she was ever going to have salted ham ever again. All of Panem would be happy, and they could live in peace. It was as simple as that.

Cyrus didn’t bristle at the suggestion that she take a shower. It did bother him that she was so unclean. He was bothered very much by the dirt on her skin and underneath her fingernails. He was certain she could look much prettier if she had a chance to do so. He nodded his head and looked to their bathroom. It was sparse, with a square of tiles and a showerhead, soaps along the wall, and a toilet and mirror. A chain hung down from the lightbulb that illuminated the room. Cyrus stood and went to the closet next to the bathroom to retrieve a fresh towel for Tatum.

“You don’t have to worry. You can get clean. I was going to suggest it. If you clean up a bit, and maybe… if I got one of my mother’s old dresses for you… it might not be a problem for you in the morning.” Cyrus knew that this plan might have sounded silly, but he believed it could work. He continued to stare at her as he thought for another moment. “And then maybe you can tell me more about yourself. If you want.”

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[laphae8ash]

He offered me a towel, without question, in fact it was as if he was desperate to get her to clean off. Like the dirt was going to jump off me and on to him. I wasn't about to refuse so I step in the bathroom and without even closing the door start pulling off my clothes and turning on the water. As I start to remove my undergarments I realize that even though we're not modest in the woods, I probably should be a little more discreet. Looking up I see he's just standing there staring at me. So I shrug, "Want to join me or something?"

I didn't do it to be sexual or even to go that route. Not that I'd complain, but I just didn't know what he wanted standing there. Leaning against the door I waited for an answer, he seemed to be doing the thing where he thought too long about too little to say so I just smiled and took the towel out of his hands. "Well if you want to join its up to you."

I leave the door cracked and toss the rest of my clothes on the floor. Stepping under the water I just enjoy it. The feeling of it rushing over me is so relaxing I almost don't want to move. I take the shampoo and start lathering up, scrubbing the dirt from the crevaces of my body and even lathering up my long hair. It felt amazing to be just getting the benifit of running water. The door knob hasn't moved so I guess Cyrus wasn't coming in.

I guess I'm not his type...It didn't hurt me but I did feel a litte betrayed, normally my looks got me exactly what I wanted. Finishing up the shower I dried off and braided my hair again. Wrapping the towel around me I headed out feeling like I was as fresh as someone from the Capitol.

"I feel so much better! Thank you!"

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[cyrus]

Cyrus Malloc

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Cyrus watched her as she took up his offered and proceeded to the shower. It already made him feel better that she was going to clean herself off. He always thought there was no better feeling than stepping out the shower, completely refreshed, and squeaky clean.

Sometimes he would let the water run, and sit there for some time until his brother or his father would bang on the door so that he didn’t use up all the water that they had been rationed. He did some of his best thinking in the shower, too. There was something about the way the water ran down his skin and the gentle pressure that made Cyrus think more clearly. He supposed it was a nice, solitary activity that allowed him a chance to escape once more from the humdrum of those around him.

Of course, Tatum did not happen to think that showering was a one person activity at all. As she disrobed in front of Cyrus a small gasp escaped from his lips, and he could feel his cheeks burn from personal embarrassment. He could do nothing but stare agape, gasping to himself that he wasn’t supposed to be seeing what he was seeing, right? He wasn’t supposed to see anything that was under there, he wasn’t supposed to know what was under there.

That was hers, and her… space, and that was private, and it was… well it was wrong for him to see it, and she thought that he had been staring. “Oh, I… I… well… I… you…” He could only stammer out a stream of indeterminate words without getting any further. His hands hung to his sides like lead and he couldn’t move his legs.

She was a girl. And she was naked. And he was… what was she doing now? Oh, god, she was inviting him to join her into the shower. Was this some kind of custom from the woods? Was this something that they did gingerly, showered together and with one another? Or was she trying to get him to do something else? He knew so little about wanderers, and he knew even less about women that he didn’t know what was up and what was down anymore. And he never felt so stupid as he did then as he watched her turn on the water, and begin to wash herself in the water. What was he supposed to do?

Cyrus had never so much as even held hands with a girl, so the brief glimpse of all that made him queasy. He had been so wrong so many times before about how to react when girls treated him nicely. When he was younger, he got in trouble several times for misinterpreting when a girl was nice to him as some form of interest. It had to be explained to him quite clearly (and painfully) that no one had ever been attracted to him, ever, in that way, and that he needed to figure out the right signs for when that was the case. And Cyrus never saw the signs in any sort of social interaction, so he’d stopped looking for them. As such, he’d never even come so close as to being friends with the fairer of the sexes.

When she finally closed the door a bit, Cyrus almost felt his legs give out from him, and had to grasp on the wall. He felt like he was out of breath, and began to breathe very quickly as he sat against the wall to get his balance. He knew what was coming, and wanted to fight it ever so much but knew that there was little use. Instead he tried to gulp back air as he felt himself tense up some, trying to hold back everything that was swirling around in his head.

He looked down at the ground to steady himself and closed his eyes.

Everything about people was so complicated, and what was he supposed to do with this wild girl, and why did she not have clothes on, and she had invited him into the bathroom, and now he didn’t know what to do or what to say, and he felt so foolish, so very very foolish, and he hated to not know what to say because it was always so hard for him to say anything…

When Tatum finally exited the bathroom wearing a towel, Cyrus continued to stare down at the floor shaking his head. He couldn’t face her just yet—there was still much too much going on in his head for him to be able to do that—and he rocked himself a little bit before finally working up the courage to look over at her. At least now she had something covering her lady parts, but it was now just a single flimsy bit of fabric. And she was unpredictable, an entity so different from whatever Cyrus was used to, he just simply didn’t know. He didn’t know.

“Why did you take your clothes off? What were you trying to do? Why did you invite me in there?” Cyrus made sure to whisper though his voice cracked some as he hissed at her. Cyrus was usually mild mannered, so this about face was hard for him. “I don’t understand you! I’m trying to help you and you just… you just seem… you’re…”

Cyrus again rain out of words as to what he was supposed to say, or do. He wished he wasn’t so stupid as to inviting people he didn’t know into his home. He wished he didn’t so desperately want to do the right thing all the time, and for people to like him.

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