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There's Levels to your Love // [Harvya 71st VT]
Dec 25, 2015 20:27:48 GMT -5
Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Dec 25, 2015 20:27:48 GMT -5
NAVYA SACHDEVA
The day Harbinger had been reaped, she had torn down one of her favorite posters above her bed and started a tally. She notched another mark in the wood of the room she shared with her sisters for every day he was gone. Time was, her sisters would have thrown her out for such an offense. But not this time. For the first few weeks he was gone, when Navya came in from the orchard and scraped another mark on the wall, they gathered around and watched.
For those nine days in the arena, they gathered close. Some held her shoulders, some her free hand. By the last day, they held her around the waist to keep her upright.
The day after, she didn’t need her sisters any more.
She still marked the wall, but every evening she greeted the tally with glee. It was only the Capitol’s doctors and a victory (through every other district first) before she would see him again. It was then that she knew for the first time a truth about the world: some days can be both long and good.
The morning of his return, his final stop on his tour, Navya’s father took her aside before dawn. She hadn’t slept; who could? Her mother had chided her for the dark circles beneath her eyes. But if everything went according to plan, no one would be looking. She had just managed to clip in one of her auntie’s heavy earrings when her father asked her to join him on the porch.
Navya sat down carefully, rustling her older sister’s skirts. “What is it, papa? Could you not sleep either?”
“No, child. You will leave for the district center soon and I fear I will never see you again.”
“Papa,” she admonished with a flare of her hand.
He grasped it, folded both of his hands around her own. “Not as you are, as you have been. When you leave today, you will not be my little girl any longer. You will be Navya Sachdeva, a citizen of District Eleven. And you will have to decide who she is.”
His dark eyes were on her own, reflecting the thumbnail moon. Soon, the moon’s light would be washed out by dawn. Soon, she would be leaving home to welcome a victor. She shifted on the bench, kicking some of the work boots in her discomfort. But her father would not let her hand go. She wanted to protest, to tell him she didn’t know what he meant. But she did. She wasn’t just going to say hello to Harbinger. She was following her heart.
Away from home.
She stopped fidgeting. “I don’t know yet, papa. I don’t know who I want to be.”
“Think about it, before you go. He will need to know, even more than you do..”
He kissed the back of her hand just as the sun rose.
***
The cheers of the crowd – now so familiar in Eleven – were deafening. Navya squeezed herself through cracks, pushed aside friends and family in the frenzy to be along the train route. They knew it well, three years running. The victors – all of them – would be led from the train to the district center, where the newest would give a speech and they would all rejoice. To most people in Eleven, they were celebrating glory, celebrating the return of one of their sons.
Navya celebrated the return of her heart.
She made it all the way to the line of Peacekeepers, and found no joy among them. “Please,” she begged, as the crowd went wild. The victors had stepped off of the train. “I beg of you, let me pass. For the cameras. I promise it will be okay – it will be worth it.” She could hear the echo of her pleas in her mind, her twisted pleas, framed to suit the Capitol. They wanted a show and she would give them one, as Harbinger had, if that’s what it took.
She simply could not bear to be apart from him another moment.
Katelyn Persimmon walked resolutely by, her blonde hair the thing most girls in the district strove to imitate. Navya could not, but she did her best to smooth her coarse locks into a fashion similar to the victor’s. That was as close as she had ever come to connecting with Katelyn Persimmon. Navya simply did not know how to speak to a god.
Behind Katelyn, though, came another victor. Navya’s heart soared. She had missed Kirito, missed him beyond the length of a phone line. She waved, tentatively at first, and then with her whole arm. “KIRITO!” She yelled and it joined a chorus of similar chants. Navya scowled, casting about for some way to get his attention. Surely Kirito Miristioma could help his best friend. Except he wasn’t Kirito Miristioma to her.
“KEER-EE-TO!” She screeched over the crowd, pronouncing his name as she had when a child. He turned to her, all dark hair and wide eyes. He marched right up to the Peacekeepers dividing them and demanded they move aside.
She matched his smile as the white uniforms parted to allow her through. He jerked his head towards the stage and she realized that she had been so caught up in hailing Kirito that Harbinger had almost passed them by. “Thank you,” she whispered, dropping a kiss to his cheek. Navya gathered the skirts she had borrowed from her sister around her knees. They shaded orange and purple, dancing around her even as she tried to reign them in. Navya would have fussed with them, would have worried they would catch and trip her.
Navya Sachdeva would not be afraid.
If she fell, she would pick herself up again, as he had. She ran, and the skirts trailed in the dirt, flickering the colors of the sunset. Thirty sunsets they had been apart. Thirty sunsets she had wondered if he would ever return to her. Thirty sunsets she had wondered if it had all been a dream.
And then he was there, walking through the crowd, ready to ascend the stage. She could not tell her heart to wait another moment.
Navya ran, heart and soul in her throat, and at the last minute launched herself off the ground. She was used to catching apricot tree branches. This time, she caught Harbinger around the shoulders and hauled herself close, the way she should have done a month ago. He was brawnier and thinner than she remembered, and he smelled of something sharp and clean and foreign. She lifted her dark eyes, preparing to find him completely changed.
But when he looked at her, she knew his heart never would. “Welcome home,” she whispered.
For those nine days in the arena, they gathered close. Some held her shoulders, some her free hand. By the last day, they held her around the waist to keep her upright.
The day after, she didn’t need her sisters any more.
She still marked the wall, but every evening she greeted the tally with glee. It was only the Capitol’s doctors and a victory (through every other district first) before she would see him again. It was then that she knew for the first time a truth about the world: some days can be both long and good.
The morning of his return, his final stop on his tour, Navya’s father took her aside before dawn. She hadn’t slept; who could? Her mother had chided her for the dark circles beneath her eyes. But if everything went according to plan, no one would be looking. She had just managed to clip in one of her auntie’s heavy earrings when her father asked her to join him on the porch.
Navya sat down carefully, rustling her older sister’s skirts. “What is it, papa? Could you not sleep either?”
“No, child. You will leave for the district center soon and I fear I will never see you again.”
“Papa,” she admonished with a flare of her hand.
He grasped it, folded both of his hands around her own. “Not as you are, as you have been. When you leave today, you will not be my little girl any longer. You will be Navya Sachdeva, a citizen of District Eleven. And you will have to decide who she is.”
His dark eyes were on her own, reflecting the thumbnail moon. Soon, the moon’s light would be washed out by dawn. Soon, she would be leaving home to welcome a victor. She shifted on the bench, kicking some of the work boots in her discomfort. But her father would not let her hand go. She wanted to protest, to tell him she didn’t know what he meant. But she did. She wasn’t just going to say hello to Harbinger. She was following her heart.
Away from home.
She stopped fidgeting. “I don’t know yet, papa. I don’t know who I want to be.”
“Think about it, before you go. He will need to know, even more than you do..”
He kissed the back of her hand just as the sun rose.
***
The cheers of the crowd – now so familiar in Eleven – were deafening. Navya squeezed herself through cracks, pushed aside friends and family in the frenzy to be along the train route. They knew it well, three years running. The victors – all of them – would be led from the train to the district center, where the newest would give a speech and they would all rejoice. To most people in Eleven, they were celebrating glory, celebrating the return of one of their sons.
Navya celebrated the return of her heart.
She made it all the way to the line of Peacekeepers, and found no joy among them. “Please,” she begged, as the crowd went wild. The victors had stepped off of the train. “I beg of you, let me pass. For the cameras. I promise it will be okay – it will be worth it.” She could hear the echo of her pleas in her mind, her twisted pleas, framed to suit the Capitol. They wanted a show and she would give them one, as Harbinger had, if that’s what it took.
She simply could not bear to be apart from him another moment.
Katelyn Persimmon walked resolutely by, her blonde hair the thing most girls in the district strove to imitate. Navya could not, but she did her best to smooth her coarse locks into a fashion similar to the victor’s. That was as close as she had ever come to connecting with Katelyn Persimmon. Navya simply did not know how to speak to a god.
Behind Katelyn, though, came another victor. Navya’s heart soared. She had missed Kirito, missed him beyond the length of a phone line. She waved, tentatively at first, and then with her whole arm. “KIRITO!” She yelled and it joined a chorus of similar chants. Navya scowled, casting about for some way to get his attention. Surely Kirito Miristioma could help his best friend. Except he wasn’t Kirito Miristioma to her.
“KEER-EE-TO!” She screeched over the crowd, pronouncing his name as she had when a child. He turned to her, all dark hair and wide eyes. He marched right up to the Peacekeepers dividing them and demanded they move aside.
She matched his smile as the white uniforms parted to allow her through. He jerked his head towards the stage and she realized that she had been so caught up in hailing Kirito that Harbinger had almost passed them by. “Thank you,” she whispered, dropping a kiss to his cheek. Navya gathered the skirts she had borrowed from her sister around her knees. They shaded orange and purple, dancing around her even as she tried to reign them in. Navya would have fussed with them, would have worried they would catch and trip her.
Navya Sachdeva would not be afraid.
If she fell, she would pick herself up again, as he had. She ran, and the skirts trailed in the dirt, flickering the colors of the sunset. Thirty sunsets they had been apart. Thirty sunsets she had wondered if he would ever return to her. Thirty sunsets she had wondered if it had all been a dream.
And then he was there, walking through the crowd, ready to ascend the stage. She could not tell her heart to wait another moment.
Navya ran, heart and soul in her throat, and at the last minute launched herself off the ground. She was used to catching apricot tree branches. This time, she caught Harbinger around the shoulders and hauled herself close, the way she should have done a month ago. He was brawnier and thinner than she remembered, and he smelled of something sharp and clean and foreign. She lifted her dark eyes, preparing to find him completely changed.
But when he looked at her, she knew his heart never would. “Welcome home,” she whispered.
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