Anomaly [D11 Train Thread; blitzish]
Jan 30, 2017 1:21:09 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2017 1:21:09 GMT -5
You notice the drapes first. The fabric adorned with flowery patterns and gold fringe catches your eye, and you put the velvet between your hands, soaking in the luxury. You never knew finery; you wonder if this taste will make you different. There was always talk that those entering into the arena are tempted by glamour; the world of excess rules the capitol. And you like the carpeted halls of the train, the towers of cakes that await you in the dining car, the portraits of those that have gone before. Iago fittingly adorns one of the wash closets, a testament to the shit that he certainly was. So new are all the temptations that you forget yourself. Like a school girl you traipse the length of the train, heart full on exploration. When would you ever have seen the wooden interior, or the perfumes that sit in bottles, waiting to be sprayed, inside of your sleeping car?But you remember. All of this isn’t for you—rather, it is because of you. The comforts are to remind you that all of this will be over soon, and to enjoy it while you can. They haven’t told you quite yet, but you’re a bright girl, and have figured it out just as soon as you walked upon the stage. You’re not coming home. District Eleven has seen more glories than several others combined. If you didn’t already have a target on your back, what could you possibly offer to change the conversation? Sure, a name such as Izar is good. But you share the car with a Rhodes. The spotlight has already shifted, dear girl. You are content—always sitting behind your sister, your cousins—how different will it be for you to smile politely behind Tamron?And so the war begins within yourself, the thoughts of what should you, what could you do. Will he want you to be with him, to help him bring some sort of honor to District Eleven? Will he spurn you, and watch as the swarm devours your whole? And somehow you remain wedded to the idea that none of this matters; death comes for all of you, whether there is a crown or not. And as you whisper another prayer, because your grandmother’s words are all you have to stop your hands from shaking, you move toward the dining car. You are lucky enough to have mentors, to have those that have gone before and come back. There’s enough faith in you to put one foot in front of another. You are just as lovely as you have always been, no matter what flows through your veins.You are a lady—conscientious, pleasant, true. In your plain homespun dress and pinned back hair you press into the dining car. Hands clasped together, you clear your throat and greet the shadows waiting. “I don’t suppose anyone else would have been as crazy—to want to be here. But… it is an honor, no matter the circumstance.” Because you would live just as you always had been, whether they think you foolish. Wasn’t it better to be true? “Should we get started?”