Waxflowers dont need blossoming (Open. Romance?)

[peanutpie]

It was one of those days. You know, the days when its raining and mud puddles are dwelling in the streets. One of the days when its cold enough for hail to be falling, but it wasnt. It was one of those Days that Kalmia Waxflower had to go to the grochers to buy some cheese and a bag of apples. She stomped across the medium sized shop, quickly grabbing the foods and standing by the checkout counter, waiting for the man infront of her to finish his checkout and for her to dash through the rain. The checker just continued and finally completed his job by putting the items into a paper bag. Kalmia let out a sigh of relief and put her things on the wooden plank that served as a check out stand, and waited. The man carefully wrote down the price of each item and then totaled them up in pencil.

The man handed her the bag, and she put the money on the counter, storming out of the store in a quick, violent fashion. The rain pelted onto her hair, as she stormed out through the streets, in a constant, weaving fashion. The streets of the district were all lined up, four streets by four streets with a center square. The seam was south of that, shacks all lined up on a long street, with two smaller ones going out from the main one. She darted through the district square, where a few people were watching the giant monitors that played the games. Three people had died already, all guys. Kalmia just shrugged and darted around the mayors house, remembering Ocean, the female tribute. She was sure to be targeted this year. She's killed two of the tributes already, and the previous victors are from here, so the gamemakers dont want a threepeat.

She finally stopped at the bakery, then turned around, finally making her way to the seam. The coal dusted, dark and gloomy seam. With the shacks lined up like graves, all tattered. Each of them appeared to have three rooms, and a dirty front porch and junk. A cat peeked out from an old tire, hissed and recoiled back into the blackened rubber. Two kids played in the street, dust smuged on their faces, wearing old clothes and tossing around an old bundle of socks to serve as a ball. She pitied the children who lived in these conditions. Even though she lived in similar ones. Her house was four rooms, though it had no junk in the yard, and the front porch was swept clean and had an old, moth eaten wicker chair.

On that particular day, sheets were laying on the banister, now soaking wet. "God." She picked up the waxflower sheets and observed them. They dripped water. "Mom is going to die." She sighed and placed them on the wicker chair, wondering what to do with them. When it stops raining, she finally decided. She opened the door and took off her coat and sighed. She picked at her hair for a moment, before finally going back to the porch and picking up the second sheet.

Before she had the chance to do anything, she saw a figure in the corner of her eye.[/color]

[levyeaster]

brent:
brent walked around the corner slowly liking the nice cold rain it was the first cold water he felt in weeks he was looking and tripped over something in the mud he squalled "ah" umph he hit the mud and he was covered he turn on his side and noticed a girl picking up sheets from a moth Eaton wicker chair he got up and wiped his face clean and said"hey do you by any chance have a towel or clothes i can changed into" and he smiled harmlessly, then he sat on a nearby rock and began to wipe off his clothes from the mud and sighed

[Eastern Orange]

Fahrenheit stood shivering in the middle of the muddy streets. His once pristine Peacekeepers uniform was now flecked with mud, and clung desperately to his lanky frame. The wind blew right threw him; he had no body fat for insulation. His pale face was made even paler by the fact that his body was trying to conserve heat by constricting the blood vessels in his face, leaving him as white as a sheet. His blue eyes stood out vividly between thick long locks of light blonde hair. He stood out greatly in comparison to the dark, coal-smeared denizens and buildings of District 12.

His had his hands shoved under his armpits and his shoulders hunched against the raging wind and rain, but he could not stop shaking. His perfect Capitol-made teeth chattered between his lips that were now turning blue. Words like ‘pneumonia’ and ‘hypothermia’ floated threw his numb brain. He must get warm. But it was his duty to watch over District 12, even if it was pouring outside. Criminals could take advantage of his absence and steal, or murder, or rape, or do anything! How could he let that happen? He needed to stay in the middle of the road, letting everyone see, and know that he was there.

The people who past him, gave him a wide birth like he had the plague or something. They didn’t make eye contact, or even acknowledge his presence. Fahrenheit was used to the cold indifference the citizens used with him, but today it was worse since he didn’t have his usual partner. His cat, Jax, who followed him around everywhere, decided to hide under his bed until the rain stopped.

Fahrenheit stamped his feet in the mud, splattering his white pants even more, and even a few people passing. They shot him nasty looks, but then realized that he was a Peacekeeper and ran swiftly away. Fahrenheit signed, and looked around him. He noticed a girl on porch…reasonably sheltered from the storm. Maybe if he just asked to stand under there, it would be okay? He could still see the street from there, and the people would still be able to see him.

Fahrenheit moved his frozen body toward the house. With each step, his legs sent a wave of pain through his body. Perhaps he had let himself get to cold. He crossed the untidy yard, his heavy black boots making squelching sounds as they unstuck from the mud. He stopped on the other side of the banister across form the girl, since he didn’t was to frighten her out of her wits by coming on her porch without permission. “Would you mind if I stood on your porch? Just until the rain let’s up?” He kept his voice from shaking to terribly, and peered at her with frost blue eyes.

[peanutpie]

A man, a peacekeeper, she could tell. He stood there, shivering. His words were quick and easy, breezily. But, they were still cold. Well, it was a cold day out. And it was muddy. Why let the guy suffer? She nodded briskly. "Kalmia." She introduced herself and pulled the wicker chair up on the porch, creating somewhat of a creaking soung against the weathered wood. It was one of the more tattered items in her life, but it wasnt much of a big deal. It was an honor, apparently, to keep a peacekeeper warm for what, an hour? She pondered this and said quickly. "Im going to go in and get something warm. Hot chocolate, perhaps?" She asked. Her family was in the seam, yes. Her Mother was known as the stationary one. They earned their money by Kalmias sellings of beading to the wealthier people of the district. For example, the mayors family. Well, Ocean was dead. So, count her out.

Kalmia went into the house and put a kettle on the stove, filling it with hot water and what little cocoa and sugar she could gather. There wasnt enough cocoa, but there was enough to get some taste. She hasitly sliced some bread and put it into the oven, toasting it for a few minutes before bringing the pot and the bread out to the porch. She sat them on the small glass table that her mother had inherited from her sister, who had died in the games before Kalmia was born.

Kalmia nodded towards the tin kettle and the bread, "Take what you please." Her sudden routine was broken. She just sighed and continued to wring out the sheets, squeezing each end quickly and wringing them out. Once one was finished, she laid them on the raling that remained dry the majority of the time and paused, considering the fact that a peacekeeper was on her porch.

He had bright blue eyes, she noticed. Hers were simmilar in nature, brighter than the rest of the seam. Though, hers were a simple silvery color. Nothing more, really. She continued to wring them out, then finally laid them on the railing, all lined up, blowing in the wind. "I am Kalmia Waxflower. And I recall seeing you around. You are..."

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(A little short, limited formatting. Sorry about that, I needed to shower.)

[Eastern Orange]

Fahrenheit wanted to stop the girl as she disappeared into the house. He did not want to be indebted to her. But his sluggish brain slowed his thinking, by the time he knew what he wanted to say, she was gone. He sighed, and climbed onto the porch. He didn’t take the chair; instead he leaned against a support beam, and stared out at the street.

The girl appeared once more with thin hot chocolate, and some bread. He really didn’t want to take anything, but that would make him appear rude, and might offend his host. He took a slice of bread, and briefly wondered if he was just supposed to drink straight from the kettle, noting the lack of mugs. He didn’t want to embarrass the girl by commenting on this fact, so decided to just leave the kettle sit. He nibbled on the bread, thinking to himself that he would have to bring her a quail to repay her for her kindness.

After the girl had finished taking care of the sheets, she turned her attention to him, introducing herself as Kalmia. He had finished his bread by this time, so he was able to speak freely. “Fahrenheit Foster.” He said, knowing that that wasn’t the name she probably knew him by. He knew what the citizens called him in whispered voices behind their hands. Frost. It wasn’t because of his light colored eyes that he earned his nickname; it was because of his cold outward appearance, and seemingly aloof attitude. But it was far from being true.

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