Nowhere to go [scout/gaby]

[Sleepy Fluttershy]

Florence Karmickelle

This was the first day when Florence almost felt like crying. Her father was finally fired a week ago and today he didn't find any money in the house. And he only had enough for one bottle in his pockets. After Florence came home after school, she put down her books and wanted to go and take her sister back from the neighbor she left her with. The old woman liked babies and didn't mind watching Florence's little sister.

But when she was heading to the door, she heard a strange sound behind her. Her dad was standing there with an empty bottle in his hands. The rest looked like a nightmare to her. "Give me the money! I know you have money! Where did you hide it? What did you do to that bottle in the fridge? Go and buy me more whiskey! You're lying to me! Don't you dare lie to your own father! You have the money!"...

She kept hearing the voice in her head, while running faster and faster, far away from where once her home was. She was going to return, but not now. Not today. She has to figure out what happened first, and then she'll go and calm her father down. He hasn't spoken in a long time, he hasn't said anything. He just got drunk every day and stared into nowhere for hours, and then fell asleep. Something was different today. Maybe there was no money left and he needed some to buy more alcohol. She has to learn to work, get the money to help him. But how? Florence still couldn't get rid of that voice in her head. It was strange, didn't sound like her father's. It was loud and terrifying.

Like the noise she suddenly heard. She stopped and realised it wasn't the familiar part of the district anymore. She must have run too far away. Florence turned around and saw someone on the ground. There was a bike lying nearby. Perhaps he fell... That's where the sound came from! She ran quickly towards him and offered him a hand. "Are you hurt? Do you need some help?". She had already forgotten about her father completely, and began searching her pockets for something right after helping the stranger up. A few moments later she was holding out her hand with a lollipop in it (it was a present from her friend). "Eat this! It's the best painkiller ever! I'm sure it will make you feel much better!"

[Deleted]

Banquo liked circles. He always had. There was something about the soft repetition of the unbroken loop that spun ‘round and ‘round that soothed his soul. Perhaps that was why bicycles calmed him as they did.

The rapid blur of the wheels.
The warm strain in the legs as they pound at the peddles.

He sped through the far-easterly neighbourhood at such a speed that only colours could be seen flitting at the corner of his eye. The stone of building became of narrow range of greys. All else merged into a brown mix of mud and barely surviving tree trunks.

No one he passed took much noticed. He didn’t mind, of course. Less distractions from the trail that he closely followed. The ground beneath him bubbled and humped with rocks and muddy dips, and with mountainous mounds in concrete where unkept roots surged below.

For the first time in a week the rain had slowed to a occasional drip falling only from forest canopies or out of drain pipes. It was still, but no sun had come. The lake-like puddles sat ready to engulf the foot of anyone who dared to step near it. His wheels parted the water like the religious men of worlds long since dead parted the seas.
The back of his whole form was black with dirt. Mud clung to his hair, dripping with a chill onto his bare neck.

The streets became quiet as he entered the outskirts of the town. Emptiness would soon become Peacekeeper strongholds, then finally the fence of the district boundary. It was time to return home.

He reached for the breaks.
Nothing…

The metal skeleton hurtled down the dirt slope, jolting its nervous rider to and fro. Undefeated, he tries the lever again. Again he is met with no return. He plants his feet into the ground beneath his; his speed continues, sending tidal waves of mud in his wake.

Finally, a screech.
Then, a breaking jolt from the front wheel.

The vehicle stopped but he did not.

Banquo flew, arm outstretched, over the handlebars into the stoney ground. The circles stopped spinning and his joy melted away. Calm lingered,though  mixed with frustration at himself, as he inspected the damage. Knees only stained black, but arms grazed and dotted with red. And something dripped from near his eye. The sting suggested blood, but he couldn't tell.

Too busy unintentionally wiping dirty into his wounds, he did not notice the young girl silently approach him. "Are you hurt?" She looked cautious as she stepped towards his crumbled form, but the twinkle in her eye and tone of her voice could not be mistaken for anything other than kindness. "Do you need some help?" Still taken aback from the suddenness of it all Banquo said nothing, aside from the odd 'um' and 'uh'.

She offered him a hand. He held it firmly, trying not to sqeeze it tight, as it was delicate instead his own. They stood beside one another. He smiled - perhaps trying to put on a brave face - and focussed on holding his wright on the side of body that didn't ache.

"Eat this!" Excitement bubbled into the air as she presented a lollypop that shined sunshine yellow from the pockets of her trousers - which were considerably cleaner than his own. "I'm sure it will make you feel much better."

A smile, wider than a could fake, spread onto Banquo's face. Food could be scarce in these streets - especially that of the candied variety. He felt bad taking it from her, but there was something in her face that made him think declining it would be more hurtful. With a curt and bright 'thank you' he unwrapped the pop and felt the warm sweetness on his tongue.

"Are you here by yourself?" Banquo asked, looking from the girl to their surroundings. "It's getting too late to be around the fence."

[/font]

637 words - Sleepy Fluttershy - banquo hix

[Sleepy Fluttershy]

Florence Karmickelle

After helping the stranger up and presenting him with a lollipop, Florence finally managed to study him properly. It was a boy, a very big one, almost a grown-up. Maybe, 18 or 19 years old. She didn't observe him any further, remembering that it's too rude to stare at people, especially when they are unknown to you. The boy smiled and thanked her for the candy merrily. He seemed very amiable to her. Florence was glad she could cheer him up. She never fell off a bike (because she never had one), but knew that it must be very unpleasant.

Florence was going to ask if he had a piece of clean cloth to make a bandage, but the boy started speaking first: "Are you here by yourself?" A typical adult question. People always ask this when they meet a thirteen year old pretty much in the middle of nowhere. "It's getting too late to be around the fence". Was she near the fence? This was unexpected and definitely not good news. If she was somewhere 'around the fence', it meant she would need at least three hours to get back home. Florence didn't think she was even capable of running that far. She had to return home alone, late at night, and who knows, what would happen there. Her father was probably still looking for a drink and breaking the whole house down. There was no way she could sleep in there. But maybe the neighbors could take her.

The boy was waiting for an answer and she didn't know what to tell him. That she ran away from home? Or that she got lost? Or both? Finally the girl started speaking again: "Well, technically, I'm not here by myself, because I have met you. And I wasn't going to stay near the fence late in the evening, I just happened to be here and got lost. Could you please show me the way to the district square later? I am sure I can find my home from there... But it doesn't matter now, because you hurt your head. Do you have anything to stop the bleeding? In case you don't, I've got a handkerchief. And maybe you need help with getting home. By the way, If I were you, I would also patch up the hands to prevent blood poisoning. And it would also be wise to wash yourself, because you're rather dirty". Florence still didn't want to think about going back. Not yet. Not now. "Take a look!" And she pulled a small mirror from her pocket. Her new friend really looked scary now - with blood running down his face and hands, dirt stains everywhere. Or maybe it was a little funny... She couldn't help smiling and laughing quietly.

[Deleted]

As soon as the words had rolled from Banquo’s tongue, he felt a twinge of something akin to regret. Not quite. Though his concern for the girl sounded more like an adult talking to a child, and though she was younger, she was no child. Despite his worrying she didn’t seem to mind. She watched him sucking at the lollypop, as if surveying him, then suddenly turned away.

All the while her smile never faded. That, more than the fruity sweetness on his tongue, lifted his spirits.

As soon as she looked away he cast his own eyes over her. He couldn’t put a name to her soft, freckled face, but it definitely seemed familiar. But he wasn’t good with recognition. Her small nose and fluttering ginger hair wasn’t quite unique, but certainly not characteristic of many people living in the district. Perhaps he had seen her walking about town, or at school. Or maybe he passed by her house on the way to the factory.

However, as the girl pondered her answer, he thought that he was justified in his worry. Her smile didn’t faulter but her eyes flickered as she thought.

“...I’m not here by myself, because I have met you.”

Hmm, Banquo thought, a answer that nicely avoids the question. She did confess to being lost and when she asked him for help, how could he refuse. He nodded as she rambled on with a giggling tone.

“...it would be wise to wash yourself, because you’re rather dirty.” She declared. “Take a look!” Before his eyes, in a small reflective circle, a dirty version of him stared back. Banquo wrinkled his nose in disgust-- though, he did not in truth look very disgusted. He dubbed his fingertips against his bloody brow carefully.

He truly looked a state. What must she think of him? More mature people would have fled after seeing him lying with an appearance so menacing. One could describe it as ‘tribute-like’ though the thought didn’t enter his own mind. In any case, he was surprised that she had come to help.

Not only was she helping, she was laughing.

“Something funny?” His words came out more harshly than intended; more threatening than jokingly. To redeem himself he wiped a clumps of mud from his face and drew a thick black line across her pale forehead.

Among the laughter, he picked his bike from the puddle and leant on it as they slowly made their way back up the hill towards town.

445 words - will edit with proper coding at some point

[Sleepy Fluttershy]

Florence Karmickelle

Florence was afraid, that the boy could misunderstand her laughing. It was really wrong. Wrong to laugh when someone was hurt. But it was completely uncontrollable. She tried to figure out if he was angry with her. The boy looked at her one more time. "Something funny?" The tone was definitely a bit too harsh, but she couldn't tell if he was mad at her. He picked some mud from his face and drew a dirty line on hers. Not angry. Florence was glad he saw something funny in this situation, too.

The boy picked his bike from the ground and started walking up the hill. She followed him, still laughing. When the laughter died out, there was silence, like someone turned off the sound. The skies were dark blue, almost black already and the stars were flowing in the universe, small and fragile, turning on one after another, like little flashlights. The air was cooling, and the further they walked, the more freezing it turned. Her legs were getting stuck out in the mud from time to time and it seemed that this journey would last forever. Florence looked at the boy again. He was probably tired. She had to help somehow. It was just impossible to go after the boy and watch him carry the heavy bicycle.

"Maybe I can help you with that". These words came out by themselves. Florence took the bike from the other side and started pushing it up. To stop the boy from saying something like "nice of you, but thanks, I can handle it" (they all say it when you offer your assistance with something), she continued speaking: "It's not safe to talk to strangers, by the way, so I think we should introduce ourselves to each other. I'm Florence and I'm thirteen years old. What about you? What is your name? And what were you doing on a bike near the fence?"

[Deleted]

Banquo's entire body ached more than he cared to admit even to himself. The wound must've been meagre. The blood had already stopped flowing; the stinky residue of the gash began crusting and flaking from his face. The legs burned with a fury he hadn't felt in a long while. The image of a bed, makeshift but warm, spread temporary heat across his skin with a sudden prickle.

The red-haired girl lagged behind and Banquo struggles on without registering the absence of her grin. As the hill peaked, she jogged to his side. Soft words bubbled into the cooling air. In his fatigue he didn't hear them, but her cause was clear when she took the other aide of the vehicle in the grasp. Weight vanishes and his arms felt a sudden relief.

He opened his mouth - probably to thank her, though he wasn't sure - when she began to speak again.

She declared her name and her with the professional, cut-to-the-chase attitude of a top Capitolite businesswoman. He couldn't help but laugh hartily when he asked him for a matching response.

"I'm, uh..." He laughed harder, taken aback by the dryness of her question. "I'm Banquo." She blinked at him, and he at her. "And, um... I'm not thirteen. How old so I look?"

He prepared himself for his performance quickly. It entertained the youngest of his colleagues at the factory. He wondered if it could be as successful with a stranger.

He paused in his tracks, hunching over, and contorting his face to echo his masterful old man voice.

"Tell me, dear. Do I have something in my teeth?"

He smiled widely, parting his lips and showing the unfortunate dirty that had stained inside his mouth.

Through the hilarity he declared that he was eighteen and that he was de-stressing after leaving the factory. Florence looked at the bicycle with an odd look-- perhaps she didn't ride, and couldn't understand the calm it brings.

"I've told you my part, thirteen-year-old-Florence." Banquo concluded in a sing-song tone. "What were you doing there?"

dunno about wc - will count&code later

[Sleepy Fluttershy]

Florence Karmickelle

"I'm Banquo", -the boy answered,-"and I'm not thirteen". Now Florence knew, who she was talking to. When he explained that he was just enjoying himself, riding around on a bike, she was slightly confused. How could anyone enjoy riding THAT THING? It was heavy, metal and very inconvenient. She imagined Banquo carrying it around and mending it every time it broke. Then she thought that if he was eighteen, he must be one-two-three-four-five... Five years older than she was. And seventeen years older than her little sister.

"I've told you my part, thirteen-year-old-Florence. What were you doing there?" Uh-oh, here comes the unpleasant question. What should be the answer? Florence's eyes sank deep into the ground under her feet and her head went down. Should she just avoid the question one more time, or lie (NO. That's not an opportunity.), or tell the truth? But how can she tell it without mentioning her father's situation? Florence didn't want someone to think he was a bad person. He was just unhappy and a bit drunk, that's all.

It was time to answer, but she didn't know, how to begin. The first streets started showing up in the distance. Maybe she could just wait and change the topic? Ask him something else? Maybe she can be silent, say nothing. But it is rude not to answer a question. Florence knew she had to come up with something.

"...I was just running across the district to calm down and got lost." A good phrase. But she had a nagging feeling that it didn't explain anything. So she added after another few seconds of thinking: "And I had to calm down because I had a misunderstanding with my father after I came home from school". That's it. Hopefully he won't ask what the reason of this 'misunderstanding' was. Though Florence felt like telling someone everything, asking for advice... But people have so many problems of their own, why trouble them? She can tell the story to her baby sister after coming back.

[Deleted]

Of every time of day, dusk was Banquo’s favourite by far. Especially in the summer. The heat slowly cooled with the dying of the sun. Marvellous pinks and browns masquerade around the sky while whispering lullabies.

At dusk, the fireflies came out. He had never seen any in person - nor did he know if they could be found in District Six - but he adored the thought all the same.

The evening was even more enjoyable with Florence. A pleasant aura buzzed about her. It was almost as relaxing as his ride was. She gave off happiness like a lamp gives off light.

But occasionally, it seemed as though it might flicker out.

Florence pondered the question for a while before replying. She stared at the ground and Banquo wondered if he had made a mistake in asking. She finally, calmly, explained that she’d had a misunderstanding with her father. As he listened he felt a slight uneasiness. Whatever had happened, it must have been quite serious to drive her across the entire District. In his nineteen years he’d had a surplus of disagreements with his own parents. None of which had prompted him to physically flee.

“Well, it’s easy to run away from your problems but it doesn’t help.” He spoke with a louder tone, hoping to create the illusion of wisdom, and wondering if he was improving or adding to the issue at hand. “You can only solve the problem if you stay and face it… A bit like facing your fears, y’know?”

288 words - sorry this is bad AND late! i'm hungover...

[Sleepy Fluttershy]

Florence Karmickelle

"It's easy to run away from your problems, but it doesn't help". Florence knew this better than anyone. And still, that was what she did. Run away. Why? She didn't know. Maybe even her patience had its limits... Or maybe it was a helpless case. No, there is no such thing as a helpless case. She made a mistake, did something wrong. Obviously.

But what was it she had to do? Face her father when he was asking for money she didn't have? Look into those eyes of a madman? Stand there without flinching and wait, till one of his empty bottles landed on her head? No, that's not a solution.

Then what IS a way? There should be some way to help her father. If she can't stop him from drinking, she can give him the money he needs. Where does she get the money? She has to find a job. Because stealing is no option, of course. Where can a thirteen-year-old girl find a well-paid job? Hard to say. She can probably ask somebody for advice, somebody who's older and more experienced than her.

Banquo's voice sounded somewhere in the distance: "...solve the problem... stay and face it... facing your fears...". She was thinking and staring in front of her, pretending to be listening. It's rude not to say anything. She had to give him some sort of a reply. "Thanks for the advice. I'll think about it next time". That will do. Possibly. But saying this almost felt like telling a terrible lie. She knew that she couldn't face that demon, which took over her dad. She could only feed her father the liquid that was killing him and watch the remaining part of common sense slide out of his brain. Maybe Banquo can give her some helpful advice about earning money. Come on, say it! She raised her head and spit it out: "Do you know if I can find work somewhere? Am I old enough for something like that?" Hopefully he won't bother to ask what she needs it for...

[Deleted]

It wasn't uncommon for Banquo to stop and consider his happiness. He would put it under the microscope of his mostly unflawed judgement. He examined it more closely than he should. For most, happiness is simply something that they felt. For him, it was a concept to be studied.

And the only way to truly understand it was to experience it himself.

As he walked alongside Florence he began to wonder what her reasons were. Was it a façade? Was it a mask or an exaggeration or a display of lacking character? Perhaps she was simple, or she too was fascinated by the working of a joyous mind.

All seemed unlikely.

But here she was, lighting the growing dark with a torch-lit grin. From her wavering mannerisms something seemed to be wrong. No one's life was perfect; parents lost jobs and food was scarce and children were reaped and wages were crushed.

But Florence must've had an awful problem lingering in her shadow to have too display such a brave face.

"Yeah, there's probably something you could do," Banquo said. He looked her up and down, as if guessing her age despite his knowledge of it, and pondered the view. "We have a few people your age at the factory where I work."

As he spoke something about her face changed. The expression was the same though. Perhaps the happiness was now genuine, rather than a barrier in defence against a cruel world. Or perhaps, as he often did, Banquo was overthinking his observations.

"I could... Maybe, ask about some work for you tomorrow?" He murmured, questioning whether he should make an offer he wasn't certain of. Nervously, he continued. "But, I should point out that my boss and I, um, aren't exactly best friends, so... I can't promise anything."

[Sleepy Fluttershy]

When Banquo promised to help her, Florence sighed with relief. There was a possibility that something doesn't work out. But there was also a chance of getting a job. She tried to be optimistic and believe in success. Yes, she definitely could achieve her goal. A cheerful smile appeared on her face again. She was happy. She did what she could to help her father. She did her best.

Or did she? A shadow of doubt crawled into her heart again. Was there another way to solve this problem? Wasn't finding a job giving up on her only parent and herself? How will she become a scientist if she doesn't have time to go to school? For the first time in her life Florence almost felt like screaming. Or crying. Or both. "Nope. It's not a solution. Crying never helps, it only makes you feel worse. Put yourself together and think", - she tried to convince herself desperately. But it was harder than she thought. A tear got stuck in her eye and almost ran down her cheek, but she managed to hold it in.

Florence was so absorbed by her sad thoughts that she didn't notice a small grey stone under her feet. The next moment was losing balance, letting go of the bike and falling down altogether. She got up immediately and inspected her knee. Not a scratch. But she suddenly remembered all that happened earlier - her father's voice, running through the entire district, the first time he got drunk after her mother's funeral, and the aching knee was the last drop. Florence sobbed quietly and set the tears free. However, she managed to calm down and tried to put on a brave face. She wasn't sure it was brave enough, but it was still better than crying. "Sorry... It doesn't hurt... Just... Had a tough day... Nevermind", -she murmured, hoping that her face couldn't be seen in the dark.