the pages in the book of life :: frankel

[ghosty]

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Tawny Blythe

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x

_______________________________________________________
sixteen. district one. female.
you had better run from me,
with everything you own,
cause I am gonna come for you,
with everything i have
_______________________________________________________

The smell of flowers was never something that I used to love, but the freshness of them is one of the things that I adore. Away from the training centre, where the smell of blood and of sweat that I had become accustomed to, gone. And, instead of walking straight to the centre like usual, I take a walk around a few of the parks and flower patches that scatter the District. And each step, I follow the same pattern. Breathe in, savour the smell and the beautiful sounds and colours that overwhelm me, breathe out, take a step. And no more is my mind guiding me around the parks, towards the centre, but my nose, guiding only towards more and better smelling flowers. No more even a longcut around the District, but a sensual guide of smell and colour. But where I stop, curiosity of a peculiar building, with boards covering the windows. The peeling paint still clearly showing it's title. The Ink and Spine. Local bookshop. And, pushing the barely attached door inwards, I step in.

The smell of flowers disappears the moment my feet cross the broken boundary, only to be replaced by the wonderful smell of well read and aged books, lined from floor to ceiling, books. And in that moment, I want to never leave. Claim this amazing place as my own, and build it back up to the place it once was. But before my thoughts even are processed, I can see the shaking of my parents heads, their disappointment barely shadowing their anger at a failure of a daughter. Wanting to be in charge of a bookshop, not training to be a dancing murderer, to kill people for entertainment. I wouldn't want to disappoint them again, because it would be almost the final nail in the coffin. It's a fine line between being an honour, and a disappointment. One swipe of a sword, merely a flick of the wrist between life and death, honour and dishonour. Heron barely even talks to me now, the failure of an elder sister career who can barely even beat others in a fight.  Each and every moment with his eyes on me, I feel the need to succeed, just so I'm not a bad example towards him.

Not that he needs any help, he's pretty much as deadly as a career can get, the inbred hardness of one down to a fine art.

Taking another step inside the shop, I notice a delicate vase, clear, but with detail equaling or bettering Father's watches. I pick it up, marvelling at the tiny details, the black lines like ink slowly pooling at the bottom, within the glass itself. And even the glass itself, shaped in the way to allow it to fit in a book shelf, masterful. A whisper of a dance enters my mind, and all I remember is steps from a ballet, and slowly I swirl around the shelves, my toes already in pointe, experience taking control of my actions before my mind argue's otherwise. A smile of joy locked heavily onto my face. And as I entered the final stages, I hear a sound of footsteps on wood flooring. And my heart almost stops in my chest, expecting a Peacekeeper to arrest me for breaking and entering. So, carefully, I call out. "H..Hello? Is anyone here?"

based off a table by anzie

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Thane Alenko Taking detours wasn’t usually my thing although today curiosity had taken over my mind. Curiosity, a strong desire to know learn something. I’ve taken the same path every day, back and forth from the training centre, today I wanted to see something new. I’ve never explored the district in an extant; I have never had time too. Now that the twins were in the centre, I hadn’t much to worry about now; I had more free time on my hands. I am sure if I am only a couple of minutes late to the centre, it won’t harm anything. Amongst my new path, I approach a desolated building; remnants of its name still remain on the face of it. The Ink and Spine. Local bookshop I’ve never heard of the name before, although it looks to have been empty for years, maybe even before my time. Squeezing through the gap, between a half hanging door and the ruined wall, I’d step in. Hitting me hard, the atmosphere felt dreary, as if something dark was in the building. Maybe I should leave, after all I am trespassing and I am sure the peacekeepers would love to charge me for that crime. Although an overwhelming amount of curiosity has taken over. Books scatter the shelves, a few spiders taken residence on the covers. Glass scattered across the floor, a few droppings from rodents here and there. The aroma is a strange one, dust mixed with the faeces of the critter residents, it isn’t a very pleasant smell to meet. Deepening further into the building, I’d enter another room. A little less damage than the front. Oak shelves reaching up to the ceiling, full of books, a few cobwebs hanging off the spines. Catching my eye, a scroll rolled up with red velvet lace. Un-ravelling the parchment, it was a drawing. Titled A Warm Day in Spring The image catches a pond in oil painting. A crisp blue bed of aqua, surrounded by great wooden fortresses, the leaves reflecting on the water. A tear runs down the drawing diagonally, a great masterpiece ruined. Rolling it back up, I’d delicately place it back onto the self, as I deepen further into the room; investigating anymore treasures. I am sure the twins would love this place. All the fascinating objects to discover, the feel of breaking the law, an adrenaline rush if there is a threat of an intruder. Although myself would be worried, if they were to do it, I would have to be there to protect them. Placing my feet gently across the wooden floorboards, I’d try to dodge the broken glass on the ground. As I walked, the boards would make a high-pitched creaking noise. Hesitantly, I’d slow down my steps, encase anyone else was hidden in the shop. A voice illuminates the air, a rush of panic runs through my body, as I hault. "H..Hello? Is anyone here?" Cautiously, I’d enter the front room. Was it a peacekeeper? Had I been caught? Aunt Miranda would be fumming if she found out. As I stepped into the room, I’d speak. ”He..llo. Sorry I didn’t mean to come in…” Entering the room, I’d be met by a girl, similar to my own age. A rush of reassurance would enter my body, realising she is unlikely to be a peacekeeper. ”I didn’t mean to come in here.”