the yellow canaries // chevi {jb}
Feb 1, 2017 22:07:48 GMT -5
Post by bailee on Feb 1, 2017 22:07:48 GMT -5
a falling star fell from your heart.
He still adorned his reaping attire, a collared button-up navy blue shirt and black slacks that had once been his father's. Affron wasn't sure whether they were too poor to buy an outfit for him or if they just didn't care enough. Either way, it's not like they had much more use for it. In a few weeks, they would be shipped back from the Capitol along with whatever remained of his lifeless body after his untimely death. He hung his head low, ashamed of what he had done. He ran his fingers along the velvet couch that sat in the Justice Building, the texture of the piece of furniture sending shivers down his spine.
A million thoughts raced through his mind at once. He wished for freedom, but not like this. He was the yellow canary, released from his cage to sing a couple of songs before desiring to return to the confinement of his cage. Except he could no longer return to the safety of his caged life. He was vulnerable - vulnerable to the hunters of the world, wanting to steal his life in exchange for cheap entertainment.
The thought of his imminent death had already crossed his mind - he'd already accepted the fact that he was going to die, and it most likely wouldn't be a dignified death, either. He wasn't afraid to face the fact that his best friend - his only friend - was most likely going to die, too. Together, they had willingly entered a game of death. He knew that there was a slim chance of either of them making it out. Affron hoped that in the event that one of them did survive, won the title of bringing glory and honour to their District, that it was Sage. He was just a lowly kleptomaniac with no morals; if anyone deserved to survive, it was Sage Scarborough.
He had been waiting for fifteen minutes. The clock ticked endlessly. Affron felt the urge to rip the luxurious item off of the wall and pluck the hands out of them. Perhaps he would even stab himself with the hands before the games even started. Surely, it would save the other tributes from having to kill him. Those fifteen minutes felt like an eternity - each time the second hand moved, a piece of his life was ripped away from him. Never had he ever valued time so much.
His parents still hadn't come to see him. Affron doubted that they would. He was only a mistake to them, another mouth to feed. Their tear would provide sympathy to them and possibly even free hand-outs out of the District's guilt. Their sorrow would be a charade, a facade that they put up to earn sympathetic glances every time they'd walk the streets of the Seam, much like the family's of the tributes before them. They were bullshitters. Affron had learned from the best.
Another five minutes ticked away before the door creaked open and a two Peacekeepers peaked through the crack in the door. It seemed after they had noticed Affron was still in the room, they were able to open it up all the way. "There's someone here to see you," one said. Affron lifted his head, half-expecting to see his parents standing through the mahogany doorframe. He stood up as the Peacekeepers offered the door for the visitor.
What he didn't expect to see was a girl, no, a woman, walk through the doors. She held herself with the maturity of someone older than Affron. He had never met the woman before, nor seen her in passing. But somehow, he felt protected but intimidated by her presence. He took a couple of steps toward her, cocking his head to the side as she made her entrance.
And then he recongnized her. The soft features, the brooding eyes. He was much bigger than her, but he still felt small compared to her. This was Sage's sister.
"I don't know why you're here," he began, crossing his arms, "but if you're going to give me trouble for volunteering after Sage, save it. My decision's already made."
A million thoughts raced through his mind at once. He wished for freedom, but not like this. He was the yellow canary, released from his cage to sing a couple of songs before desiring to return to the confinement of his cage. Except he could no longer return to the safety of his caged life. He was vulnerable - vulnerable to the hunters of the world, wanting to steal his life in exchange for cheap entertainment.
The thought of his imminent death had already crossed his mind - he'd already accepted the fact that he was going to die, and it most likely wouldn't be a dignified death, either. He wasn't afraid to face the fact that his best friend - his only friend - was most likely going to die, too. Together, they had willingly entered a game of death. He knew that there was a slim chance of either of them making it out. Affron hoped that in the event that one of them did survive, won the title of bringing glory and honour to their District, that it was Sage. He was just a lowly kleptomaniac with no morals; if anyone deserved to survive, it was Sage Scarborough.
He had been waiting for fifteen minutes. The clock ticked endlessly. Affron felt the urge to rip the luxurious item off of the wall and pluck the hands out of them. Perhaps he would even stab himself with the hands before the games even started. Surely, it would save the other tributes from having to kill him. Those fifteen minutes felt like an eternity - each time the second hand moved, a piece of his life was ripped away from him. Never had he ever valued time so much.
His parents still hadn't come to see him. Affron doubted that they would. He was only a mistake to them, another mouth to feed. Their tear would provide sympathy to them and possibly even free hand-outs out of the District's guilt. Their sorrow would be a charade, a facade that they put up to earn sympathetic glances every time they'd walk the streets of the Seam, much like the family's of the tributes before them. They were bullshitters. Affron had learned from the best.
Another five minutes ticked away before the door creaked open and a two Peacekeepers peaked through the crack in the door. It seemed after they had noticed Affron was still in the room, they were able to open it up all the way. "There's someone here to see you," one said. Affron lifted his head, half-expecting to see his parents standing through the mahogany doorframe. He stood up as the Peacekeepers offered the door for the visitor.
What he didn't expect to see was a girl, no, a woman, walk through the doors. She held herself with the maturity of someone older than Affron. He had never met the woman before, nor seen her in passing. But somehow, he felt protected but intimidated by her presence. He took a couple of steps toward her, cocking his head to the side as she made her entrance.
And then he recongnized her. The soft features, the brooding eyes. He was much bigger than her, but he still felt small compared to her. This was Sage's sister.
"I don't know why you're here," he began, crossing his arms, "but if you're going to give me trouble for volunteering after Sage, save it. My decision's already made."
by sixsmith.
