mend thy bleeding heart }} niam
Jun 17, 2014 19:38:10 GMT -5
Post by semper on Jun 17, 2014 19:38:10 GMT -5
[presto] t w e e d; district eight x seventeen | The heart behind Tweed’s ribcage skipped a beat when she heard his name. Blood ran as cold as river water through her veins, chilling the extremities that tingled and twitched with sudden anxiety. Duncan? No, no, not my Duncan— The people around her were instantly too vivid-looking with their dull-colored dresses and brown hair wrapped in messy buns; fear held her the same way any intense situation did: legs shook with the anticipation of bolting, lungs heaved to gather oxygen, and her heart began to accelerate. She needed out, she needed out, and the neighbors standing by her were much too close— She could see Duncan’s head of unkempt hair bobbing up and down above the other boys as he moved, but then something else happened that caused beads of sweat to start trickling down her sticky skin. Owen’s voice rang out, speaking the single sentence that was capable of destroying lives. ++++ The crowd in the district square cleared out quickly. Duncan had disappeared and left no trace. Enveloped in panic, Tweed hitched up her little old sundress and ran, bare feet slapping against the compact dirt that led up to the Justice Building. Peacekeepers were already moving to block her entry by lowering their weapons, forming a barricade. She came to a quick stop in front of the gleaming metal. “Is there someone in there meeting with Owen?” “No ma’am,” came a voice behind one of the reflective black helmets. “The visitors have already left. Visiting is done.” As much as she yearned to fight to speak with Owen, she knew that poor Duncan needed her more. She turned and took off, sprinting in the only direction she knew that he would have traveled. Trees whipped past, extended branches reaching like rough, flakey fingers that grabbed and snagged her dress. The path was wide and well worn; she knew the placement of each large stone and easily avoided them by leaping or swerving, also darting past any person that happened to be using the trail as well. A withering sheep pasture flashed by on her left, and then the Bowers-Fox home came into view. The door was unlocked and she did not hesitate to enter. Tweed flung it open with anxious force, leaping over the threshold and looking around with wide eyes. Cody sat in the living room, looking mournful and grave, yet she felt uncomfortable even trying to string together weak words of sympathy, so she kept quiet. The atmosphere in the house was abnormally heavy and Tweed felt the negativity like thick humid air; she closed the door and hurried down the hall, heading to the one room that her friend would retreat to. When she opened the door, she was not disappointed. She exhaled quietly, somber. “Duncan.” |
table by anzie <3