Surprise, Surprise! [Zoë]

[Eastern Orange]

T H I N K I N G | S P E A K I N G | H E A R I N G

“Little Finch!” Was all the warning I got before my bedroom door was thrown open to reveal my godfather in a beautiful new suit. I squealed and launched myself behind my changing screen, hoping that he hadn’t seen anything. I had been trying to pull my dress up when he barged in; it was only to my waist, so he very likely saw my chest. My cheeks flared red, and I tried to swallow my embarrassment. I’m sure it had been an accident.

“I’m sorry, my dear!” His voice floated over from the other side of the screen, not sounding sorry at all. I gave a shaky laugh, and shook my head. “No, it was my fault. I should have been standing behind my screen, not beside it. You did give it to me for a reason…” I saw the hazy outline of his body through the screen approach. I hurriedly shoved my arms through the sleeves of my dress and rushed to cover my chest. Mort came around the side of the screen just as I was pulling the fabric over my shoulders. “Want me to zip you up?” I nodded mutely, still embarrassed. I turned around and swept my hair to the side. I felt his fingers brush the bare skin on my back before they gripped the zipper and tugged it all the way up.

He turned me around to face him, his hands gripping my shoulders. My godfather looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on a few important bits. I struggled not to tear myself from his grip. “Well it seems my Little Fin is all grown up. You look beautiful, my dear.” I smiled a thank you, and dropped my gaze to my dress. It was a light blue, picked to set off my eyes, and clung in all the right places. It even gave me the appearance of curves! My smile turned more substantial. “Thank you, Uncle!” I grinned at him. “Now now, my dear, you are far too old to call me that now. But worry not, after tonight you will have an entirely new name to call me.” I gave him a questioning look, but he just smiled a mysterious little smile.

“I have another surprise for you, lovely. Constance!” He yelled my nanny’s name. The distinguished old lady appeared in the door way, looking like she loathed to be summoned like a dog. “Make sure Fin is ready for her surprise!” He said to her and left the room in a flourish. I rushed to Constance and gripped her veiny hands. “What is going on? He got himself a new suit, and gave me a new dress. Are we meeting someone for dinner?” Constance just shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you, but it’s far more insidious than that.” I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything, just wrung my hands nervously.

Constance gently sat me down on the stool in front of my vanity and brushed through my waist-length hair. Her gentle strokes felt nice, and put me at ease. “Where is Scabbard?” I realized suddenly that I hadn’t seen him all morning. Constance’s face darkened. “The Master put him up in the attic. He didn’t want him getting underfoot.” Right on cue, I heard Scabbard howl from somewhere above me. The basset hound hated the attic. I tried to stand up but Constance pushed me back down. “Scab doesn’t bother the guests!” I protested. “Ah, my dear, there are going to be more than one or two today.” That stopped my struggles to get away. “What?” I cried. I pushed Constance for more information, but she didn’t reveal anything more, just twisted my hair and stabbed my scalp with bobby pins.

After an eternity my hair was all done up, and I was finally able to stand up. “Ugh, Constance, did you have to use so many bobby pins. My scalp feels like it’s bleeding.” I moaned, gently patting my hair. I heard the old women scoff. She took out a pocket watch and looked at the time. “Oh sugar! You are late!” She dragged me out of the room, and shoved me toward the stairs. “Late for what?” I asked, not expecting to be told. “For your party!” She gave me another push, and a squeaked in surprised as I stumbled down the stairs.

Luckily, I was still on my feet when I stumbled down the rest of the steps, and caught myself against the railing on the landing. Not so lucky, however, was the living room filled to the brim with men looking at me with expressions ranging from concern, to disdain, to patronizing amusement. I turned scarlet and searched the sea of faces for my godfather, my mind frantic with questions. We’ve never had this many people over before, and while I was excited, I was also worried. Why would we be having a part now? Of all days? It wasn’t my birthday, or his birthday, or even Constance’s birthday. So what was the occasion?

My godfather appeared at my side, an annoyed look on his face. “Couldn’t you have made a more graceful entrance?” I forced myself to smile. “Sorry, I’m not used to wearing heels. What is this party for?” His face brightened a bit, and that mysterious smile was back. “Oh that’s a surprise, my dear.” He said, and disappeared into the sea of people, leaving me to stand alone. I frowned and looked around for a familiar face, finding none.

I’m sick of surprises.

[/justify][/size][/color]

[✨ zozo.]

timothy feldon – district 9
i l l s t e a l y o u

you're just like your father, buried deep under the water.
you're resting on your laurels and stepping on my toes.
whose side are you on? what side is this anyway?
put down your sword and crown, come lay with me on the ground.

[/color][/left]

Wonderful. Simply feckin’ marvellous. Yet another pretentious party I had to attend with Dad, just to show me off to all the old men in suits and ties, all silently judging each other by how shiny their shoes were or how much money they were making. I was happily enjoying watching the sunset sink under the surrounding mountains from the neighbour’s rooftop, accompanied by a few crows that had fluttered into the roof, my hands itching to paint the oranges and pinks that blended together perfectly, when Dad had announced that we’d be going out.

After a hefty round of barked questioning and foul looks, on the brink of argument, I’d reluctantly climbed down from the roof and bid the sunset goodbye - I’d have to wait ‘till tomorrow evening. The only reason I forced myself back to the ground was the lingering thought of having to go back to school if I did not attend. That’s the bargain, between me and Dad. Not attending parties and gatherings equals school. Attending equals freedom. Well, freedom from school. There’s no such thing as true freedom in Panem.

Bitterly, I’d dragged myself back to our house, a small little building in a row of houses with tilting rooftops perfect for leaping across, and began to tidy myself up. I knew what was expected of me, considering I had to go through the same tiresome routine every week, so I made somewhat of an effort. Better to feel uncomfortable for a few hours than to be pestered by Dad for days on end. Hauling a comb through my ragged hair and slipping into more tidier clothes than the ripped jeans and old t-shirt I previously donned, I met Dad in the living room, waiting for me by the door, and began to badger him for information.

”Dad, where are we going?”

[/b] I asked as we exited the house, Dad locking the door behind me. Surely it would be some party with no-one my age there, forcing to act polite around so-called important people and potential customers, but it would be nice to get at least a warning.

”My friend Mortimer is holding a celebratory dinner – not sure what for, though. Apparently it’s a surprise for when we get there”[/b] he replied sternly. He could be lying to shut me up, as I know he does constantly, but I just don’t have the energy to question him anymore. Shrugging, I nod and fall silent, watching my feet scrape against the ground as we walk up the street. It’ll be the same expectations – make up some crap about school, and business, and nod. Try to look like I know what people are talking about.

Dad and I’s conversations are always like that – blunt. It’s clear that our relationship is severed. I was never close to him, anyway. And I know what he did to Mom, but she’s never brought up in conversation. There’s an invisible taboo to hear her name spoken in the household, the mere mention of her forbidden. It makes it even harder to pretend that we get along, gritting my teeth in between shoulder-pats and fake laughs. But whatever, it’s better than going to school, I guess.

When we finally reached the house, I ran my eyes over the building. It’s quite smart, for a District 9 home, at least, but gives off that eerie feeling that something similar to a haunted house in storybooks would. But I’m not scared of some old house, and obediently followed my father into it like a little puppy. In a way, I am like a puppy. A young Patrick, they called me. Just like his father. Smart, intelligent, good-looking. Well I ain’t no murderer, so why don’t you reconsider that statement, huh?

”Ah! Patrick! Good to see you, my man”[/b] someone bellowed as we reached the main room, breaking away from a conversation to stride towards my father. Laughing, Dad greeted the man with a quick handshake and nod; introducing me to the man I assumed was Mortimer. As I gazed up at him and shook his firm, tight grasp, I studied his face. Given a first impression, I’d certainly say he was a man of importance, and from the amount of people that had arrived so far, very sociable. He reminded me a bit of my Dad, though Dad was usually the one to go to parties, not host them. But something else familiar, in his eyes, caught me off guard. His eyes were hyperactive, jumpy. Like he was keeping a secret that no-one else should know about.

”You must be Timothy”[/b] he announced, and I nodded politely. ”Yes, good to meet you sir”[/b] I replied with a slight smile to hide my internal wince. Mortimer nodded and ushered with his hand for us to join in conversation with the others, leading my father by his shoulder, leaving me to toddle on behind him into the bumbling hum of voices, much to my disappointment. Looking around, my eyes searched for someone to talk to, other than the sea of men I would have to impress for my father, but alas. The men all looked the same – brash, boring and business-like. Whoop-dee-doo.

After what seemed like an eternity of nodding, fake laughs, short replies of agreement and hand-shaking, I was finally free to stand on my own for a while. Leaning against a wall, my eyes darted around the room, desperate to find some form of entertainment. Even watching a fly hop around the room would keep me busy for a few minutes, if not more. In my state of boredom, I found my ears picking up a noise of feet stumbling down steps. As I raised my gaze, my eyes found the once empty steps adorning a fumbling girl, clutching the railing, dressed in a neat, tidy dress, hair pinned up securely on her head. Intrigued, my spine stiffened as I adjusted my position, leaning in slightly to watch her falter along in her high-heels. I had never seen the girl before, certainly not in town or at school. Dad had never mentioned Mortimer having a daughter, but perhaps he hadn’t felt it appropriate. Still, she looked rather baffled when she eventually managed to get down the stairs and stare at the ocean of people now crowded in the living room, bits of conversation floating in the air into a muffled murmur.

I wondered if I should go and talk to her. Hesitating, I thought over the decision in my head for a moment. She looked quite alarmed at the amount of people, as if she’d never seen so many in the same place. It was odd, I thought. She may just be shy, but still, why so alarmed? She intrigued me, with her dainty limbs and light brown hair. It would be nice to have someone around my age to talk to; perhaps she was forced to attend too. Beginning to get up and wander over, I stopped as Mortimer suddenly appeared at her side, looking rather annoyed. Her nervous face murmured something to him, and a sly smile stretched across his mouth as he returned a reply. His words only sent another quizzical look to her expression as he slunk back into the crowd. Deciding it was now or never, I leapt off the wall I had been leaning against and started toward her, trying to look as un-intimidating as possible. Perhaps a smile would do.

Yeah, a smile.[/size][/blockquote]

[Eastern Orange]

T H I N K I N G | S P E A K I N G | H E A R I N G

I awkwardly stand at the bottom of the stairs, trying to ignore the not-so-subtle glances the guests are throwing my way. I look around sullenly, only seeing a bunch of men my godfather’s age. I’ve never met someone my own age; I’ve been forever surrounded by stuffy old men and stuffy old Constance. I shouldn’t really be surprised, Mort never allowed me to be around younger people. He thought that I’d be influenced into doing something stupid, I guess.

As I was about to write away the evening as just another night where I sit quietly while the adults talk, a boy materializes in front of me. One second I was standing their wishing for a friend, and the next, there was a boy standing next to me smiling. I’m so surprised that for a second I’m completely frozen. But that quickly melts away into sheer excitement. “Hello!” I say brightly. “I’ve never seen you before. Who are you?” I ask eagerly. “My name is Finch.” I glance over at Mort. He isn’t paying any attention to me, which is rather weird. Usually, he is constantly hanging over me, watching every move I make. Why is today any different?

That’s when it hits me.

What if this party is for me to meet this boy? Is he finally letting me make friends? Is that why he is giving me space? I beam at the mysterious boy. “Are you here for me? Did Mort throw this party for us? He is finally letting me have a friend!” I’m so excited! I can’t believe I finally get to have a friend.

[/justify][/size][/color]

[✨ zozo.]

timothy feldon – district nine
i l l s t e a l y o u

you come beating like moth's wings,
spastic and violently.
whipping me into a storm,
shaking me down to the core.

[/color][/left]

I cautiously approached the girl, shifting my body movement so I was in her line of vision. I didn't want to scare her off, putting on my friendliest expression. A lot of people were immediately put off when they passed me - probably because I don't look like the most approachable person. I try not to let it get to me, but whatever. Hopefully a friendly, genuine smile would do.

I slid up towards her and waited patiently for a moment until she spotted me. As her head turned towards mine I smiled, wondering if I had scared her as I read her frozen expression. Just when I thought I'd scared her senseless and wondered about leaving her be, her face lit up with excitement.

"Hello!" she beamed in elation. “I’ve never seen you before. Who are you?” she asked, but before I had time to introduce myself, another burst of speech left her mouth. “My name is Finch” she continued, and I decided to pause for a moment until I was sure she was finished talking. She seemed to be talking rather enthusiastically for someone she had just met, wide eyes bright, as if she had never talked to anyone else before. The way she glanced around the room for a moment, as if she wasn't sure she should be talking at all, confused me a little more. Odd, I thought, but shrugged it off as she turned back to me - practically bouncing with excitement.

“Are you here for me? Did Mort throw this party for us? He is finally letting me have a friend!” she asked with a vivid smile, getting more and more excited each query. I wasn’t sure how to answer her questions honestly without her smile vanishing, the poor thing, still confused as to why she wasn’t allowed friends. Instead, I continued to smile and came up with the most sincere response I could think of. “I don’t know, but I’ll certainly be your friend, Finch. I’m Timothy, by the way” I added. I honestly didn’t have the heart to break her enthusiasm – although I didn’t have ‘friends’ as the sort, only by choice, I knew what it was like to feel a little lonely sometimes. I was sure Mortimer wouldn’t mind, besides, what was the worst that he could prevent?

ooc; Sorry that this took so long! School has been hjsfjksjksfdh these first few days back and I was away from home for a few days – hope its ok for how small it is D: Bigger posts to come, promise! ^^

[/size][/blockquote]

[Eastern Orange]

T H I N K I N G | S P E A K I N G | H E A R I N G

I was thrown off guard; if this party wasn’t to meet a friend, then what’s if for? “Hello Timothy!” I say brightly, once I shake of the surprise. Well, just because this party wasn’t for us to meet, it doesn’t mean we can’t be friends! I grin at him… and grin… and…. What do I do? I’ve never had a one on one conversation with anyone before (Constance doesn’t count!), let alone anyone my age. I think frantically, trying to recall exchanges between characters in the countless books I’ve read, but my mind is completely blank. “Um, so. The weather is nice, yea?” Aw great. The first boy I met, and I ask him about the weather.

“Gentlemen, Gentlemen.” I hear my godfather’s voice clearly over the white noise of the party. He is on the other side of the room, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, which is raised higher than the living room, so everyone could see him. “I think it’s time that I announce why I am throwing this party.” I feel my heart speed up in anticipation. “All of you have met my ward, Finch.” He doesn’t look at me, but everyone else looks around the rooms to locate me. I flush with embarrassment and I step a little behind my new friend, hiding. “I’ve received many offers to marry her off, and I have finally decided.” He says candidly.

What.

What?!

Marriage? The word reverberates through my brain, encompassing all coherent thought. I sway on my feet, and place a hand on Timothy’s back to steady myself. I can’t get… Don’t I get a say? Shouldn’t I have heard about whether I was getting married or not?! This isn’t how it happens in my books. I’m supposed to fall in love, and then I get purposed to, and then we live happily forever after. I don’t get forced into a marriage with some pervy old guy! How could Mort do this to me?

Actually, he had been doing a lot of weird things lately. Caressing me, and barging in on me when I’m in the bath or changing. My panicked brain whirled through the memories of the past few weeks, putting the pieces together to form a dreadful picture. “Now now, my dear, you are far too old to call me that now. But worry not, after tonight you will have an entirely new name to call me.” Hadn’t he told me that only hours ago? A new name? Could it be that he meant fiancée?

Oh, I feel sick.

“I intend to marry Finch myself.” The room tilts on its axis, and my vision blurs. The men gathered are taken aback, but then they give a polite round of applause. I place a hand over my mouth, fighting the sobs of horror and bile rising in my throat. While everyone is distracted, I slip up the stairs.

I can’t see anything through the thick film of tears in my eyes, but that doesn’t matter. I find my way to the attic steps just fine and stumble up them. Once I reach the apex, my basset hound, Scabbard, rushes forward to greet me. I scoop him up and run to the daybed in the corner and flop down. I bury my face in his wrinkly neck and cry. “Oh Scab, what is he going to do with me?” I weep, brokenly.

[/justify][/size][/color]

[✨ zozo.]

timothy feldon district nine

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

but you run away from me, and you left me shimmering.
like diamond wedding rings, spinning dizzily down on the floor.

[/color][/left]

I smile warmly at her greeting, watching her grin stay plastered on her face - just as excited as when I first came to say hello. In her dazed puzzlement, she asks me about the weather. Letting out a little breath of surprise, my heart warms at her comment. Considering I never know what to say in conversation, this takes me by disclosure. I’d assumed that Finch would be bursting with discussion in the enthusiastic way she’d burst question after question toward me, but it turns out I wasn’t the only one lacking conversational skills. This made me feel a little better, and begin to reply – but someone gets ahead of me.

“Gentleman, gentleman” Mortimer boomed over the rush of exchanged words, dying down as everyone’s attention, including my own, turned towards him. He stood proudly in the middle of the doorway, eyes all on him, looking like he was about to announce something very important. I listened intently, half-aware of Finch peering up at him too from where we stood. “I think it’s time that I announce why I am throwing this party. All of you have met my ward, Finch," he explained, and suddenly everyone’s eyes were turned toward the two of us. Feeling Finch duck behind me, I instinctively move my arm to conceal the rest of her frame, guessing by her actions that she was feeling shy. I know what it’s like to hate being looked at, so anything I could do to help her would follow.

“I’ve received many offers to marry her off, and I have finally decided,” Mortimer continued, and his comment caught me off-guard. Marriage? Finch? The poor thing seemed to have barely met anyone in her entire life, how was she supposed to cope with marriage? Was she even aware of this proposal? And to who – one of these middle-aged men? The thought made me feel a little sick and my jaw hardened, keeping Finch hidden behind me, suddenly protective of her. ”I intend to marry Finch myself.” he finished – and the whole room seemed to be taken aback. A burst of applause and hurried chatter followed his shocking statement, and I stood in a daze for a moment – before I realised that Finch was no longer behind me.

Looking around, my eyes darted up to the tops of the staircase, where I spied her shoes and dress hurriedly disappearing behind the walls. Instantly I felt the urge to follow her, hand on the banister ready to ascend – but caught myself as I realised where I was. Turning my head back to spy Mortimer, I found him submerged in conversation and congratulations, a sly, smug smile on his face. I instantly took a disliking to this man for dropping that bombshell on Finch – and in my haste I made a bound up the stairs. No-one seemed to have noticed me – or cared enough to stop me – and my father was no-where in sight. As I slunk up the staircase, I hurried forward in the direction I saw Finch take off in. Pattering through the unfamiliar house, light on my feet, I peered down the corridors in an attempt to look for her. She seemed to had disappeared altogether.

”Finch?” I called out, voice echoing around the halls as they bounced off the walls – hoping that she’d hear me, or at least make her presence be known to me. Worry began to build up in my chest, feeling genuine concern for her. Where could she be?

[/size][/blockquote][/justify]

[Eastern Orange]

T H I N K I N G | S P E A K I N G | H E A R I N G

Scab wiggles in my arms, his chubby legs flailing franticly. “What are you doing you stupid dog!” I snap, tying to hold him to my chest. He squeezes himself free, and runs off. “Fine! I don’t need you!” I call shrilly after him. I lean back against the daybed, my weeping momentarily on pause. It’s because of this that I hear my name being called from the floor below. I freeze, thinking that it’s Mort, but then I realize that I didn’t recognize the voice. Scab barks hoarsely, and from the sounds of it, he is at the bottom of the stairs. Stupid dog! He will give away my location! It’s probably one of Mort’s pevy old friends who thought they had a chance of marrying me.

I get up and walk as quietly as I can down the stairs, and scoop Scabbard up, covering his snout with a hand. “Shhh!” I hiss in his ear. I twist open the door slowly, and peek out. I breathe a sigh of relief seeing that it’s just the boy from down stairs. I’m about to call out to him, but I stop myself. What if he was sent by Mort to come and get me? No, Mort would never send someone my age, it’d be too risky. I now realize that he never let me have any friends, or any life outside of this house, because he wanted me all to himself.

“Over here.” I call out to Timothy, feeling rebellious. If Mort didn’t want me having friends, then that’s exactly what I’d have. I am tired of him telling me what to do. I wait until Timothy sees me, before climbing the stairs back up. I go back over to the daybed and sit down. I hold Scabbard against my chest protectively, feeling nervous and vulnerable.

[/justify][/size][/color]

[✨ zozo.]

timothy feldon district nine

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

There was a scuffle of feet above my head, and instantly my head snapped up to locate the noise. A bark shortly followed, much to my surprise - what on earth would a dog be doing in the roof? Confused, my eyes travelled along the wooden panes that made up the roof, and almost fell over in surprise when I spied Finch peeping out of a little door in the roof. “Over here” I heard her call quietly, almost in a whisper, and my steps echoed as I hurried toward her hiding spot.

A grin curves between my ears as I spy the steps leading up to the attic. The last thing that I expected I would be doing at this party was climbing. Almost bouncing up the steps with ease, in my element, I ably hopped up into the attic and closed the hutch behind me to find Finch sitting down on the floor, clutching a dog to her closely. Guessing that the dog was what caused the barking noise, I crouched down a few metres away from Finch to give her some space, obviously very upset. The last thing I needed was to scare her, or intrude, and I of all people knew how crucial space was when I was upset. If she hadn't invited me up here, I would have probably left her to her thoughts, but the idea of her wanting to be helped left me feeling a little more comfortable. I could do that. Yeah.

"Are you ok, Finch?" I asked stupidly, instantly regretting my choice of words. Of course she wouldn't be ok, idiot, I thought to myself with an internal wince. I try again, this time hoping I didn't sound so naive. "I mean, is there anything I can do?" I suggest, wanting to make her feel at least a little better. I thought my Dad was frustrating, but this really took the cake. An anger boiled up inside of me at the thought of how upset Finch was that I quickly extinguished - getting angry wasn't going to help anyone. I need to stay calm. Usually I wasn't this warm around strangers, or anyone, really, but I could now see that Finch had it far worse than myself. I wanted to help. Anything, anything at all that she'd suggest, I'd try and make happen.

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

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

[Eastern Orange]

T H I N K I N G | S P E A K I N G | H E A R I N G

I don’t answer Timothy right away. I just sit and pet Scab, absentmindedly. Should I really be surprised? Honestly? This is a long time coming, and I’ve just refused to see it. I’ve written of Mort’s deviant behavior as accidents, or blamed myself for being too sensitive. All the times his touch has lingered, or his eyes ran down my body… They should have been warnings. I’m stupid, stupid, stupid.

Finally, I look up at Timothy and offer him a small smile. “You would help me?” I ask. “We only just met.” My smile widens, and I scoot closer to him. This situation reminded me of the plots from my books. “Are you my knight in shining amour?” I want to believe him; I want to think that he could save me from this horrible situation. Isn’t this what I’ve been waiting for all these years? My prince to come and whisk me away? “Help me escape.” I blurt and grab his arm. Suddenly, I feel ridiculous, and I bury my face in Scab’s neck. He was probably looking for a simple request. He doesn’t want to do something so risky.

“I’ve never been outside, you know.” My voice is muffled against Scab’s neck. “What’s it like out there?” I want to give him something else to answer instead of my impossible request, to save myself from embarrassment.

[/justify][/size][/color]

[✨ zozo.]

--- when your bird is broken will it bring you down ,.

[/color][/size][/font]
( YOU MAY BE AWOKEN, I'LL BE AROUND )[/center]

It takes time for Finch to reply. It's not an awkward, tangible pause - more like a pause in which someone drowns themselves in deep thought. I hardly ever surface from this pool of mind myself, so I let her think. Process what has happened, the poor little thing. Never before had I seen or met someone so fragile, so delicate. I wanted to wrap her up in bubble wrap and keep her safe. Then as soon as that thought hits me, I'm struck with surprise. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to keep anyone safe before, besides for myself. I was always a keep to myself kind of person. Even Finch has her dog to keep her company. A companion: at times, someone that I would long for hours on end. Lack of company never used to bother me much, but now, seeing someone so sad, so lonely, still manage to find comfort in another life, made me feel poignant. Even the small little birds on my rooftop kingdom would all fly away eventually.

Pulling herself out of her floating thoughts, Finch turns to me and smiles. Her words are bright and excited, so full of hope – and for a small moment I regret making her put so much faith in me. Because what have I ever done to deserve anything like that? I’m not special. I’m no hero. And yet, I want to be. Her nervous actions and requests for help and grasp on my arm suggest that I have to help. I want to help. My lips move to agree to her request, promise to help – before she asks another question altogether. ”I’ve never been outside, you know. What’s it like out there?”

And in that moment, my heart seems to break for Finch. A beautiful catastrophe robbed of living for so many years. How do you answer that? How do you explain the world, the sky, the grass, the air, the birds, the feeling you get when you're soaring, against pattering feet on rooftops and whooshes of oxygen in your ears? For a moment, my fingers twitch in a yearn for piano keys to compose what I'm trying to explain - and then it all rushes to my head in a blur of emotion and colour and vision. "It's..." I begin hesitantly, settling my ground, testing the waters with my toes. There's so much to tell, so much to describe, and for a moment I'm lost for words, for I am faced with a challenge for immense and difficult and tricky than I've ever had to confront before.

And my mind opens up and words come tumbling out, spilling from my eyes and ears and fingertips.

"It's beautiful, Finch. When you look hard enough. The sky is oh-so blue and the people bustle about, there's murmurs of voices and a constant current of life beneath you when you climb up on the rooftops and dash from home to home. And grass, it tickles in between your toes, and smells like dirt and trees - trees, they're great for climbing too, because if you get high enough, you can see the sky stretch across the whole district and watch clouds tumble over your head. Buildings stretch above your head, and when the day ends the sky turns into a palette of oranges and pinks and purples and then the stars peep back at you, and if it's really cold your breath billows out in puffs of smoke, an-"

In my passionate, bewildered excitement, I find myself crashing to a concrete pause. Never have I wanted to share my palace in the sky above my home. It's always been my place, somewhere I can escape to. And then I look at Finch, someone so starved of the world and it's colour, smells, feel - all I want to do is share it with her. Not just above, but below, all around. Brick walls and dusty roads and the smell of chimney smoke and rain. Everything and anything. She deserves to experience what the world, if only in the bounds of Ten, has. And maybe even further, if we're feeling brave. We could take off, disappear. No-one could catch us, no-one could stop us. My entire life I've wanted to run away. Now it seems that perhaps I'll not only be running, but sharing it, too.

The ideas tumble and collect in my head, and the words have fallen from my tongue before I can stop to think. "I'll take you, Finch. I'll show you. I'll steal you away, and we'll run, you and me." For all I know, I could be sounding insane - but the opportunity is too great to second-guess. Eyebrows raised in a questionable expression, I finish with "Today. Right now. We could go right now and they'd never notice. What do you think?"

And I hope with all my might that she thinks so, too.

describing ;; thinking ;; talking ;;

[/size]

[Eastern Orange]

I close my eyes and imagine the world Timothy is painting for me, seeing everything in bright, vibrant hues. It’s been described to me countless times in books, with flat, toneless words that inspired nothing more than a two-dimensional picture in my head. But with Timothy’s words… I can feel the grass between my toes, and the sun in my hair, and the altitude of the sky and buildings and trees. It makes me ache for the outside world like I’ve never ached before. It’s a pain deep in my bones that I know won’t go away until I’m running through a field or climbing a tree or even just walking out of my front door. I open my eyes and watch Timothy’s avid expression as he describes the way the sky looks at dusk, letting a slow smile stretch across my face.

He cuts of abruptly, and my heart plummets, worried that something was wrong. I look around to try to locate what could possibly be the matter, but I don’t find anything. "I'll take you, Finch. I'll show you. I'll steal you away, and we'll run, you and me." I jump when he starts talking again, and my heart starts rocking a mile a minute when I process what he is talking about. He’ll really help me? Really?! He finishes, and looks at me for my opinion. I’m speechless.

I’ve been thinking about my prince coming to rescue me since before I could remember, but, if I’m being perfectly honest, I never believed he would come. I’m so surprised, and bewildered, and amazed that I just stare at him with my mouth hanging open in the most unladylike way. I replay he words over and over in my head, making sure I’m hearing what I think I’m hearing. “You… you mean it?!” I squeak out, and grin. I feel a giddiness bubbling up in my chest, threatening to make me burst. “Oh! That’s amazing! Right now?! You really mean it! I can’t believe I’ll finally get to leave! You’ll really do such a risky thing for me?!” Scab is wiggling uncontrollably in my arms, and I loosen my hold on him. My eyes brim with tears, and when I blink, they pour out over my cheeks. Embarrassed, I run a hand over my cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m just so happy.” I grin at him.

Scab barks within the circle of my arms, and I look at him, fear spiking through my chest. “We will be able to take scab, right? I don’t think I could lose him… He’s been my only friend.”

ooc: sorry, all my templates are on a different computer... What do you say about Mort finding them up there, and he throws Tim out on the street? >D

[✨ zozo.]

--- louder, louder & we'll run for our lives ,.

[/color][/size][/font]
( THEN WE REALLY HAVE TO GO )[/center]

All my life, I felt like I was the one trapped. Unlucky. Compressed into miles and miles surrounded by an electric fence. There were not enough alleyways to explore, gates to climb, roofs to leap over. I wanted to see more, do more, be more. Explore, branch out, escape, even. But now, sitting in front of Finch, who's sheer excitement of going outside her home, let alone walking down the street, both warms and chills my heart at the same time. The thirst to explore radiates off of her, tears of joy spilling onto her face for a moment - and I smile. I cannot remember the last time I saw someone so happy, and because of a promise I said I'd keep. I swear I'll keep it.

"Of course we can take Scab" I reply. Although some confusion of how the will sneak out of this prison of a house I found myself in - let alone a dog too - crosses my mind, but I shove it aside abruptly. It's not like I could take Finch up on the roofs, anyway, so we'll have to navigate our ways through the streets below, parts of Nine that seem to unfamiliar to me. But I promised. I said I would. And I'm not one to back out on promises, especially not to a friend.

Friend. Such an odd word, so abnormal in my vocabulary. How could I not let Finch take Scab, her only friend, when I want nothing more than to steal her away, my only friend, too? I can't really remember the last time I had a friend, either. Today is a day full of changes and new memories. An adventure out of a story book. So I dive in, pressing an ear to the trap door I climbed through, searching for noise. When silence returns, I peep open the door and peer my head through the gap, heart sighing with a heave of relief when no-one jumps at my head hanging from the ceiling. Leaning back to haul the door open again, I turn to Finch and press a finger to my lips, ushering her to accompany me down. "Come on, quick!" I whisper, holding out my hand to guide her own, eyes constantly darting from her back down to the ground below, cautious for any passers-by that could destroy my plan. To run for our lives and never look back. "Is there another door, somewhere away from the main entrance?" I ask in a shallow breath, knowing that if Mortimer merely settles a glance on myself and Finch together, he'll have me kicked out and Finch locked away and all our chances destroyed. And I promised I wouldn't let that happen.

describing ;; thinking ;; talking ;;

[/size]