paper airplanes / random writing things

[Penny]

the rain is falling it's after dark

Scarlett hadn't intended to end up at the old vintage shop that day. She had been wandering the streets for hours searching for anyone who looked like they might be especially sympathetic toward a starving little girl and the bite of the cold was beginning to get to her, sinking beneath her skin and causing her teeth to clatter together. Finally she caved, diving into the nearest store and rubbing her hands up and down her arms to keep warm. The warm air in the cramped space worked to thaw her, but gradually. She flexed her fingers, knuckles stiff with the cold, and glanced around. There was no one else in the store, which was crowded with a variety of strange, worn objects. She noticed a shelf near the back crowded with a variety of broken toys, and near it several racks of out of style clothing. The entire shop seemed to be an oasis for outdated curiosities.

She wandered around, trying to look like she was shopping just in case someone was watching her, lifting a knitted scarf here or a scuffed up sneaker there. Her fingers grazed over the cracked wooden carvings, fingers probing into breaking points curiously before moving onto the foggy glass figurines. A set of mismatched bells caught her attention and she peered around cautiously before lifting one up and listening to the clear sound it made, the corners of her lips tilting upward. Her eyes then landed on a small rack not too far away with jewelry that looked like it was taken straight from an ancestor’s old chest. She wandered over, grinning at an oversized gem placed on a ring. Everything seemed over the top and gaudy, very District One, until she spotted a piece of jewelry that was surprisingly plain. She fingered the necklace curiously, fingers running over the smooth surface of two rectangular pieces of metal.

“Interestin’ piece, that is.”

The voice made her jump, spinning around in panic as if she had been caught in the middle of committing some sort of crime, eyes wide. The man before her was old, with only a wisp of silvery hair on his head and large glasses that he kept on having to push up on his slightly misshapen nose. He was shorter than she was, stooped over, but somehow she felt very small in comparison. “Oh!” she exclaimed, running her fingers through her hair briefly. “I am so sorry. The door was open, and I just thought I’d come take a look around. I’ll just... I’ll leave now.”

She started to do just that, but the man stopped her, placing an icy hand on her arm. “Wait.” Scarlett paused, lingering uncertainty. The man gestured to the necklace she had been looking at with a small smile. “Interestin’, that you should be lookin’ at that piece. I’ve had it for years, I have. Not many people notice it.”

He was silently asking for an explanation, but Scarlett (as usual) didn’t have one. So she simply shrugged, reaching out again to feel the cold chain. “Nothin’ special about it, really,” she said indifferently. “Why isn’t it fancy? Isn’t that what jewelry’s supposed to be?”

The man’s eyebrow arched. “Not that necklace, little missy,” he informed her matter-of-factly. “Those there are dog tags.”

Scarlett’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Dog tags? I’m sorry, I don’t really know what those are.”

The man nodded as if suddenly realizing something, offering her a kind of distant smile. “‘course you don’t. You wouldn’t. The Capitol wouldn’t want you gettin’ any ideas, now would they?” He paused, as if expecting a reaction, but continued easily when she didn’t offer him one. “Dog tags were the necklaces that soldiers used to wear. They’d have all kinds of information on them, just in case the soldier wasn’t able to tell them himself.”

“Because he was dead?”

“Most of the time. But sometimes, if he was lucky, it would only be if he was captured or unconscious.”

Scarlett frowned, turning over the tag before glancing at the old man. “It’s blank.”

The man shrugged. “Dunno why that is. Must’ve never been used. You’re welcome to take it, if you’d like. I’m sick of lookin’ at the thing, so I’ll sell it to you cheap.”

She pulled the necklace off the rack and cradled it in her palm for a moment, glancing at the glinting metal. It would be completely selfish of her to dip into her family’s ever-dwindling funds just to purchase a bit of jewelry, but the man had succeeded in attaching her to it. The perfect salesman. “I don’t have a lot of money,” she muttered, more to herself than the man, before sighing heavily. “How much?”

The man named his price, which might have been seen as a steal from anyone else’s view, but in Scarlett’s eyes it was one little necklace eating up the majority of her earnings from that day. Scarlett gritted her teeth in frustration, thinking of the meager amount of food she could buy for dinner instead, before yanking the proper amount of money from her pocket and shoving it in the man’s direction. He snatched it away and then turned his back to her, hobbling back toward the counter without sparing her another glance. Scarlett pressed her lips together tightly before glancing down at the dog tags again. Blank, just like her. They had potential, of course, but no clear future. Nothing to define them, to make them unique. Half of her mouth managed to quirk upward as she struggled with the clasp, the metal digging into her fingertips until she finally properly fastened it and pulled her long locks through. She caught her reflection in an ancient mirror tilted against the wall nearby, and almost smiled at the sight of something - even if it was just a pair of dog tags - glinting at her throat. Just before she left the store, though, she tucked it beneath her shirt collar.

She was an unnamed soldier, and she intended to keep it that way.

the streets are swimming with the sharks

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[Penny]

and now that i'm strong i have figured out

Scarlett couldn't remember the last time she had washed their cracked plates and rusting silverware in warm dishwater. The faucet only released a stream that was so cold that it was a miracle it wasn't frozen, no matter which way she adjusted the handle. Sometimes, after a patricularally icy night, it actually was frozen, and nothing came out at all. While, in the summer, Scarlett was grateful for anything cool to plunge her hands into, in the depths of winter the water numbed her hands to the point of her having to bring them out every few seconds and curl them to loosen the stiff joints. It was during one of those brief breaks when she heard a quiet sniffle behind her, and glanced over her shoulder to see little Lizzie, seeming lost in the middle of their shack. Usually their mother kept her busy while Scarlett worked, but the older woman had gone out to try and bargain with the small amount of money Scarlett had managed to earn begging that day. Scarlett dried her hands on the dishtowel, a ratty thing so old it barely absorbed anything anymore, and smiled. "Did you need somethin', Liz?"

"Yeah." The tone of her voice, so broken and upset, made Scarlett give the little girl her full attention, turning toward her and dropping into a crouch. Lizzie's lips were trembling with the effort of keeping tears at bay, and concern immediately swelled up within Scarlett. Her younger sister's voice trembled when she spoke, causing her to stutter. "I'm s-sorry."

Scarlett's eyes drew tightly together, confused. "For what?"

"I'm s-sorry th-that I'm the r-reason we're s-so poor," she managed to choke out before flying into Scarlett's arms and burying her face in the older girl's shoulder. Scarlett could feel her shaking with sobs, tears seeping through her sleeve. She was momentarily speechless with her younger sister's apology, a mixture of shock and disbelief stealing all words from her tongue. After a few moments, though, she managed to collect herself, and gently pushed her younger sister back, gripping her shoulders tightly. "What are you talkin' about, Liz? That ain't your fault."

"B-but I'm the r-reason Daddy l-left Mommy," Lizzie said tremulously, her voice rising in pitch. "Otherwise he w-would have stayed."

Scarlett's eyes narrowed dangerously; she felt something hot, like a flame, lick up inside of her ribcage. It threatened to engulf her, but she swallowed it down. "That ain't your fault, Lizzie," she repeated, but more slowly. "Your Daddy would've left Mommy whether you had been born or not. It ain't yours or mine or anyone's fault 'cept his, understand?"

"B-but why? Why didn't he love us, Scar? W-why did he leave if w-we didn't do anything wrong?"

How many times had Scarlett asked herself that question, late in the middle of the night after her sister and mother had fallen asleep? How many times had she wondered why a father would leave a woman to raise a child on her own? Too many times to count. But those questions brought forth tangled emotions Scarlett was too busy to deal with, so she oftentimes shoved them aside. Lizzie was different, though. Lizzie was a thinker, and no doubt she had been carrying that guilt on her fragile little shoulders for a good long time. "I dunno, Liz," Scarlett admitted, drawing her sister in for another hug. "I dunno why he left. But you've got me, okay? And I ain't gonna leave you anytime soon."

"I know," Lizzie whispered, though tears still slipped down her cheeks and onto Scarlett's shoulder. "Y-you're the strongest person I know, Scar. You'll p-protect me."

Strong? Scarlett knew most people, herself included, would disagree. Scarlett wasn't strong. You're no soldier. Kaelen's words came back to her, distant and hollow, and she closed her eyes tightly, hugging her little sister closer to her. He was right, of course - she was a beggar, not a fighter. But for her sister, for Lizzie and the bright future she deserved, Scarlett would pretend to be everything she was not. She would pretend to be strong. "That's right, Liz. I'll protect you. I'll always protect you. I promise."

how this world turns cold and it breaks through my soul

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[Penny]

and all your monsters in the night they come to life

The bruises were like flowers, blooming over her skin in a wide range of colors and sizes. Some of them were easy enough to hide, though she earned plenty of strange looks when she wore long sleeves and pants in the sweltering heat of summertime, but others were more conspicuous. The worst was when he hit her face. If she was lucky the only visible consequence would be a red, swollen cheekbone for a few days, which no one questioned too much. After all, she was a Career - of course she would be a little banged up from time to time. But she wasn't always lucky, and that was when things got difficult.

(She'd never realized how hard a human hand could be. It slammed into the side of her face with enough force to make her stumble back a few steps, trying to blink the stars out of her eyes as the fresh mark began to swell. She felt a strange sting just below her eye, and reached up to feel blood trickling down over the tender flesh. He came forward again, eyes narrowed. She knew that look - it always meant darker bruises. She wouldn't cry, though. Crying was a weakness, and if she showed weakness he would only strike her harder. She knew from experience.)

The bathroom mirror revealed the damage to be much worse the next morning. Artemis traced her fingers over the bruise that blackened her eye and then dropped down to surround the gash just beneath it. She'd cleaned the wound up the best she could, but dry blood still crusted over the split in the skin. The swelling wasn't horrible, but the color was. It looked as if she had a twisted shadow on the left side of her face, and it certainly wouldn't be overlooked in training. They wouldn't let her work in combat if they thought she wasn't physically well enough. Hesitating, she glanced at Ro's bright pink make-up case balancing at the edge of the sink. Artemis despised make-up, but perhaps just this once... heaving a great sigh, the young Career snatched the bag and snuck down the hallway to her older sister's room.

When Ro answered the door, her eyes immediately darted up and down Artemis's face. Artemis stood her ground, tilting her chin up proudly. After a moment, Ro's eyes landed on the make-up case, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What are you doing with that?" Artemis glanced down the hall to make sure no one was listening before pushing her way past the taller girl into the bedroom. Aphrodite's bedroom couldn't have been more different than her own. As the child with the most potential for marrying into even more money (she was beautiful, so naturally suitors were already lining up at the door), Ro was spoiled beyond belief. Her room was filled with glittering trinkets, giant fluffy stuffed animals, and more mirrors than Artemis could count. It made her even more aggravated, seeing her reflection in so many places at once. A cruel reminder of what happened when she didn't get perfect scores in training. Artemis walked over to the bed and carefully sat on the magenta satin comforter, looking down at her clasped hands. "I... I don't know how to put on the foundation," she admitted after a moment. "I need your help."

"Of course," Ro said, smiling kindly, but Artemis saw something flash in her eyes. A moment later it was gone and the older Valencia daughter was digging through the make-up case, muttering something about skin tone and blending. Artemis almost rolled her eyes. Ro was a natural beauty, of course, but her skills with the paints and powders the Capitolites adored was what pushed her past beautiful and into perfection. Perhaps that was one of the reasons Artemis never bothered with such things - she would never be as pretty as Aphrodite.

She watched her older sister mix some different foundations on her hand before finally deciding it was the right color. At that point, Ro hesitated, glancing at Artemis's bruised face once again. "This is going to hurt," she said quiet, and Artemis nodded indifferently. She had proven the night before that she could deal with pain. Not a single tear had been shed. "Just hurry," she said. "I have to get to training."

Ro looked like she wanted to say more, but changed her mind, instead gently beginning to apply the foundation to Artemis's face. It hurt, but Artemis gritted her teeth and didn't make a sound. When she had finished applying the foundation Ro reached for a skin colored powder and began to quickly dust that on before drawing back, eyes narrowed. At last she nodded, seeming to be satisfied. "Go look. I'm finished."

Artemis hesitantly stood and approached one of the mirrors, the one with a frame made up of seashells. Her reflection must have been some kind of trick - her skin was flawless. Ro had even managed to make the swelling almost impossible to notice. "It's perfect," she whispered, bringing a hand up to her cheek. "I can't even see it."

"That was the point, wasn't it?" There was a silent pain in Ro's eyes as she came up from behind. The older girl paused, glancing at Artemis through the mirror. "You have such a pretty face," she said quietly, and Artemis blinked in surprise. Aphrodite rarely gave compliments freely. The bruise must have looked worse than she thought. "It's such a shame that father ruins it like that."

Artemis turned abruptly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "I should get going. Thank you for your help."

"Artemis." Aphrodite's hand was on her shoulder, and Artemis paused. "Just... you know we all hate it, right? What he does to you isn't right."

Silence.

"I get what I deserve."

And then she was gone, fleeing down the steps before Ro could see the burning expression in her eyes.

so you embrace them in the hope that you'll survive

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[Penny]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-color: 385052; border-right:0px solid 000000; border-left: 0px solid 000000;] and the worst part is there's no one else to blame Robyn was waiting. She was waiting before dawn swept like a golden bullet across the horizon, before the stars started to fade in the recognition of morning. Moonlight drifted through the wispy branches of the willow in which she was perched, catching in her normally inky mane and casting an opalescent glow upon her skin. The world was still and quiet as it listened to activity in the house beneath her. Robyn listened, too, frowning at the golden glow that shone through one of the windows and scattered over the lush lawn. It was of of the nicer and larger houses in District Ten, though the bricks were still worn and some of the wood was damp and rotting away. Robyn knew that there were other houses that were just as suitable to be stolen from, but she had been lingering in the tree for nearly half of an hour and was too stubborn to give up on it quite yet. A shadow passed before the glass and then returned. Robyn let out a quiet sound of exasperation. What could anyone possibly be doing at such an early hour? Gritting her teeth, she pressed her calloused hands into the rough bark of the tree branch and swung down, hitting the ground with a soft thud. The willow veiled her view of two silhouettes within the room but she instantly recognized one to be the small and delicate shadow of a child. Being sure to remain in the darkness's embrace Robyn warily crept toward the window, pressing up against one side and peering around. It was a little girl's bedroom. She knew immediately by the bright pink walls and assorted toys scattered over the plush carpeting. Upon further inspection she saw scribbles of things that somewhat resembled people and barn animals crookedly displayed on sheets of slightly crumpled paper, bright and cheerful. Straining to see farther inside, Robyn leaned forward slightly, bare toes pressing into the damp earth. In the corner, sniffling atop her rainbow comforter, a girl of about six years old was watching a man that Robyn assumed to be her father as he read her a storybook. Her eyes were pink from crying, but as he read she slowly began to lean back on her pillow. The man's face was patient and kind despite the dark circles under his eyes. Robyn watched, entranced, as his words slowly lulled his daughter to sleep. After a few minutes, when her eyes finally fell closed, he stood and turned off the lamp by her bed before leaning over and kissing her forehead. Robyn jerked back as if she had been burned, stumbling away from the house that had quite suddenly become toxic to her. A gunshot suddenly echoed in her mind, and then another, and all she could see was bright scarlet against fallen autumn leaves. She stared at the house hollowly for a moment longer and then turned and fled, feet pounding against the ground soundlessly. Long grasses brushed against her bare legs, pulling softly at her skin as if trying to hold her back. Once she was a safe distance away from the father and his child she obeyed, dropping down and allowing the ground to seemingly swallow her whole. Dawn was finally beginning to announce its coming appearance, the midnight blue of the sky gradually fading into a paler hue, but Robyn kept herself facing the ground as she breathed heavily, trying to calm her racing heart. And then, just as the sun broke above the horizon, she began to do something she hadn't done in years. She cried. be my friend, hold me (Graphic credit to not-the-hero on tumblr.)