we're painted red to fit right in [ems]
Feb 14, 2017 19:44:27 GMT -5
Post by d9 kristof parks {ems} on Feb 14, 2017 19:44:27 GMT -5
Ivar Hammerfell Seventeen | Male | District Two |
Sometimes it was impossible for Ivar to place himself in the shoes of those residing in the lower districts of Panem. Of course he was used to having money, and he enjoyed the food he received on a daily basis, yet he didn't realize just how bad off the people from the outlying districts were. Didn't matter to him. Wasn't any reason for him to care about just how poor his opponents were, but maybe it was wrong asking questions about what the foods were like. Apparently it rubbed this girl the wrong way.
An exasperated sigh left his chest. Apologizing was something he heard many do when they've offended someone, but that was the last thing bouncing through his frail mind. Why apologize for something he didn't mean? It wasn't like he purposely set out on a mission to prove this girl wrong. And this girl was wrong to think that everyone in district two had money. Ivar worked for all that he had. He worked to eat, yet it was probably more than this girl ate in a week. It wasn't something he thought of on a regular basis -
"I'm sorry." Half grunted words filled the air, but none of them meant anything, and it was probably obvious by the tone lingering inside each word. "But to sit here and think that we all have money to spare is a stereotyping don't you think?"
The palms of his hands rested against the floor barely holding himself up. Knuckles cracked and popped, and his joints ached, but it was part of it. A life he chose to live by refusing the help anyone offered him. Ivar was independent, and maybe it would become his fatal flaw. Everyone lived and died. Everyone made mistakes, and maybe his greatest mistake was by making messing and trying to play a part he didn't need to play. But even then she laughs as a challenge infiltrates the air -
"I wish I could accept your challenge, but seeing as we'll both probably be dead within the next few days, the challenge doesn't matter." His voice remained clear of all emotions as he shrugged his shoulders slightly, "but I wish people would understand that not everyone in district two is privileged."
An exasperated sigh left his chest. Apologizing was something he heard many do when they've offended someone, but that was the last thing bouncing through his frail mind. Why apologize for something he didn't mean? It wasn't like he purposely set out on a mission to prove this girl wrong. And this girl was wrong to think that everyone in district two had money. Ivar worked for all that he had. He worked to eat, yet it was probably more than this girl ate in a week. It wasn't something he thought of on a regular basis -
"I'm sorry." Half grunted words filled the air, but none of them meant anything, and it was probably obvious by the tone lingering inside each word. "But to sit here and think that we all have money to spare is a stereotyping don't you think?"
The palms of his hands rested against the floor barely holding himself up. Knuckles cracked and popped, and his joints ached, but it was part of it. A life he chose to live by refusing the help anyone offered him. Ivar was independent, and maybe it would become his fatal flaw. Everyone lived and died. Everyone made mistakes, and maybe his greatest mistake was by making messing and trying to play a part he didn't need to play. But even then she laughs as a challenge infiltrates the air -
"I wish I could accept your challenge, but seeing as we'll both probably be dead within the next few days, the challenge doesn't matter." His voice remained clear of all emotions as he shrugged his shoulders slightly, "but I wish people would understand that not everyone in district two is privileged."
