Visions & Smoke [Blitz | Kire]

[Deleted]

You have learned so much from bisabuela. She speaks to you in an old tongue, one all but forgotten in these times. Snuffed out by time and by law, she speaks to you because you listen. Her mind wanders here and there, but you can read between the lines. There is wisdom with age. A strange fascination with the old ways, you soak up each and every moment with her as though your heart and lungs depend on it. There was life beyond the walls, beyond the rivers, oceans, and streams, back when the world was cast in light and not shadow. Your mother says she has lost her mind but you, Salome, think that there are bits and pieces still bubbling to the surface.

Today is market day, and you must earn some coin so that a sweet treat may be bought for your sister’s birthday. You and she share winter birthdays—just about the only thing shared between such sisters. She will be off running wild with the boys and girls, careless and care free. You wish she would settle, and thought that age would bring calm to her blood. But each passing day only brings more fireworks. That does not stop you from loving her, but to say life is not difficult would be stretching your honesty.

You eye the men and women of the market. It’s easy to spot the ones who need the truth. They linger too long, wanting answers to questions not asked. You are good at this because you believe; you think there is more to seeing than what the cards and lines can tell. Today you wrap yourself in a cloak and call out to the passers-by. “Truth here, future here, come learn your future.” And you wait, knowing they will come.

[Kire]

Sirrah Birnam

He had no goals for today, no real reason to be strolling through the market except to simply see the sites. People bustled about, all going in different directions with their heads bent away from the Peacekeepers that lined the streets. The site always broke his heart. There was so much terror in the people of District eleven - and probably the rest of the Districts. So many times he had wished to do something about it, but what could he do. As a seventeen year old boy there was so little that he could manage. Still, for the past three years they had had victors and that had taken some of the strain off of the residents. Everyone had food now, though for how much longer couldn't be said. Katelyn, Kirito, and Harbinger were all strong people that had won more than their own lives. They had won the lives of their entire District. He would forever be grateful to them.

A girl off to the side of the street caught his eye. He had no idea why she would, but as her words reached him - he had assumed she was a regular saleswoman trying to get by on selling homemade items - he became intrigued. "Truth here, future here, come learn your future." Cautiously, and with a quick glance around to make sure the Peacekeepers weren't looking his way, he approached her. "You're a fortune teller?" He looked around again, feeling like he was touching on a taboo. Looking back, he tried to search her face and see if she was truthful. "Can you read my future?" And tell me what I'm supposed to do.

[Deleted]

And when you see him, you feel a chill. Could that be the winter creeping up your back, through your old cloak? Or maybe you feel what you see in his eyes, the way that he looks at you for an answer. They all have stories in their eyes—she taught you that, from the glint of light against the pupil to the lines on the skin underneath—there’s truth to be found there. You pause, and take a breath. Peacekeepers wander around the market, but they could care less about a girl playing games with boys at the edge of the stalls. You move to take his hand and raise your eyebrows.

“I can tell you many things,” Your voice soft, child of the winter—most powerful when the snow falls. You step closer. “I am Salome Izar, and I tell the truth.” You’ve practiced this many times, it’s no longer strange or stilted. You believe now, more than you ever have before, that you bring light where there isn’t. You can read what is written and etch out what may come. You are not your grandmother, who saw the three victors coming home, who said your cousins were all coming back in boxes—but you are young. You pull your cloak again, and lean forward to whisper.

“Give me your hand and I can start to tell you. A coin for your trouble, and you’ll know what you need.” And this is the truth, whether the future comes to pass or not.

[Kire]

Sirrah Birnam

Her eyes captured him like a net, reeling him in. There was something in them that assured him that she meant what she said. Perhaps she might really have the answer. She is also wary of the Peacekeepers but he is surprised when she reaches over and grabs his hand. Then he realizes that if they looked like they were simply flirting the watch dogs wouldn't scent a hunt. Her hand is cold in his and he wonders how long she's been standing out here, waiting for someone. If she could predict the future, surely she would know when the best time to be out here was. Then again, he had come and she had been here. "I can tell you many things." Her voice freezes him, enthralled in the sound though he can't say why. "I am Salome Izar, and I tell the truth." There's almost a rehearsed element, but he supposed that if she had been doing this for a while - trying to convince people each time - then it would sound that way. Either way, it chilled him more than the cold day.

"Give me your hand and I can start to tell you. A coin for your trouble, and you’ll know what you need." She had leaned in closer, keeping up the pretense of flirting - or so he told himself - but her breath didn't warm his cheek. He was enraptured, caught in whatever trap she had created for him. Still, if she could tell him what he needed to know then maybe it was worth it. He dug in his pocket, pulling a couple small coins out. He and his mother weren't exactly rich, but he was taking this out of his spending money. "Is this enough?" He hoped it was. With the money, he offered up his palm. For his own sake he hoped she really did tell the truth.

[Deleted]

You sense the pause, the gears winding away in his mind. But then he dips to get the coins in his hand, asking if it’s enough—and it always will be enough, because as long as there is some kind of money in seeing than it’s more than you will start with. You smile a small smile and lean in ever closer. He offers his hand and you place both of yours over his. He’s warm to the touch, and you turn over his palm to see what it is that you want to see. There is no danger from the peacekeepers. You’ve played this game many times before. They see you as the girl who likes to talk to boys and men, who laughs with old ladies and knows what and where and when things happen. A gossip, they think—not the slow and steady girl telling truth to those that need it.

“You have had a hard start,” You trace a line in the middle of his palm. Easy enough to say, there are few in this district that have seen wealth or power. But you narrow your eyes. What had your great grandmother said about these etches? A mark here, in the middle. “You’re missing something.” The words come out of your mouth before you can catch them, and you wish you hadn’t. There is nothing good in telling people bad news. You look up at his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t.” You let them choose if they want to hear the truth. “I don’t like prying too deep when I can’t tell you good things.” You stare back at his hand. “There’s— do you want to know?”

[Kire]

Sirrah Birnam

She smiles as she pulls his hand into her grasp and leans over it. He holds his breath for a moment before she begins to trace the lines in his hand. The gentle touch isn't ticklish so much as sends shivers down his back. "You have had a hard start," he's trying not to be skeptical but that didn't mean much coming from District eleven. It is only in recent years that there has been any relief. "You’re missing something." He can tell that she regretted saying that the moment it left her lips but it was too late. Memories of his conversation with his mother come to the surface and he fades a bit from the present while he recollects. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t." Except he's out to test her now, if she can claim she knows about his life she has to prove it. Besides, he doesn't quite want to pull his hand from her grasp. "I don’t like prying too deep when I can’t tell you good things." He nods, understanding, but he is determined now to hear what she has to say. "There’s— do you want to know?"

He meets her gaze fully for the first time since he had come over. "Tell me." Then I'll decide if I believe you.