raquel izar {eleven} fin
Jun 10, 2017 11:04:17 GMT -5
Post by solo on Jun 10, 2017 11:04:17 GMT -5
Raquel Izar, D11
Growing up, you had your doubts regarding the Izar Curse. Ma always said you were never one for fairy tales. It was ironic, in a way, considering your family was filled to overflowing with myths and legends of long lost ancestors and a world that most had now forgotten. For some of the older cousins, it is easier to remember. You can see it in their eyes, the way they talk, how they look down when anyone mentions the word Tribute or Games. Of course, you respect that. They lost people they loved. But you were always too young, and the best memories you have of them are vague ones with echoes for voices and black holes for smiles. You don't like to dwell on the past. You prefer to stay here, in the present, where everything is much more real and tangible. But with all the folklore of the Izar family, it's hard to ignore it all.
You believe Sofia and Emmanuel to be two of the lucky ones. Both younger than you, Sofia now twelve and Emmanuel fourteen, too young to know any of the truth held in your family's curse. Sofia wasn't even born when the first one was reaped, and Emmanuel was far too young to remember any of it. You yourself can only remember the broad grin Benat wore as he practically leaped up the stairs, the contrasting looks of horror and dismay your parents faces as Pa tightened his grip around your small body. Of course, you didn't understand it then. And sometimes you still doubt that you do. But everyone tells you he was always the joker of the family, that he was laughing even when he was dying.
Two years later, they were supposed to take Sampson, and you shudder at the thought of Sofia meeting the same fate. He seemed so old at the time, when you were seven and he was twelve. But now, looking back, you realize all too well how young he really was. His name was in there once. Once. And just like that, he could've been swept away from the Izar tree, blacked out with an ink pen and only ever spoken about in the legends that make up your history. But as you know, his fate was changed. Iago took his place. Iago, the one you can actually remember going insane from what Ma called bloodlust. You remember his laughter, crueler than Benat's, but childish all the same. He was fourteen when he died. Emmanuel's age today. You wring your hands together, grimacing at the though of your brother meeting the same, bloody fate.
Your family had four years of peace after that. Four years which you used to grow together, to play, to love, to be at peace. You believe in things like that. Those aren't fairy tales. There is such a thing as happiness, some place on the other side of this storm where you'll be full of joy. There's a piece of it in you already, you're sure of it. How else would you be able to smile and laugh and play with your siblings? How else would you be able to love them, love them with a burning fire in your heart that hurts to touch. You know that fire will never go out, no matter what. It's too strong. After all, isn't that the very definition of family? A bond so strong, not even the harshest of circumstances can snap it in two.
You don't remember much from when you were the only child, but what you do remember is never being alone. Days spent with your cousins, splashing in the little creek behind your house, dancing across the fields shared by the Izar family. Of course, none of you are rich compared to the rest of the district. You're middle class at best. Sharing the land means sharing it's resources, generally a good thing, but it also means sharing the wages. Money has never been kind to your family. But you've never had a problem with that. You like your little house, with the tilted roof and the tiny chicken coop in the yard, the room you share with Emmanuel and Sofia, the patches of violets that grow in the shade and the sunlight that peaks through the dusty windows every morning. It sheds some sort of hope in what you believe to be a hopeless place. Ma has always told you that hope is the second strongest emotion, right next to love. You believe her.
Those four years seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Your family grew up, you passed into the reaping age category. You were not afraid. Your name was entered once, Eleven was populated with more children than you could count. But what you forgot to be afraid for was your family. You had always been close to your cousins, but for some reason, you didn't even think of them when Reaping Day came around.
Pa always told you that was one of your faults. Despite the fact that you had the ability to love others with a fiery passion, selflessness was not something that came naturally to you. You know you would always put Emmanuel and Sofia before yourself. But anyone else? You were never quite as concerned for their safety. You should have been, you know it, but some shadow over your heart causes you to care about yourself more than the majority of your own bloodline.
Levi wasn't supposed to meet his end. Well, that's not a completely accurate sentence, because you don't believe that anything is set in stone. Fate and destiny are the things of fairy tales to you, despite the fact that Grams has told you time and time again they're just as real as the both of you. She's always told you that Levi was meant to volunteer. That he was supposed to wear the Izar name with pride and take it into the Arena for the third time. Grams hates the Games with a passion, as do you, but you both believe that your family takes a stand against the Capitol whenever they enter. Or at least, some of them do. Levi never made it past the Cornucopia.
You have always been passionate about what you believe. You value right and wrong, you take pride in your decisions and you hate to go back on anything. You keep your promises. Some of your older cousins have called you self-righteous, but you don't mind. They don't tease you for it, and you all get along fairly well, despite your differences.
When you were fourteen, Henri taught you to fight. He's one of the older boys, now twenty-two and out of the dangers of the Reaping. It was his in his final year when he taught you. He said that he might be in the safe zone, but you certainly weren't, and he wanted you to be prepared if you ever found yourself in the arena. You doubt he was worried your name would be called. You believe he's always been concerned that Emmanuel or Sofia will be called, and that you'll take their place. Of course he's worried about it. You know you'd take their place in a heart beat, and you can't blame him for being concerned. He taught you how to handle a knife, how to tell the difference between plants that would fill you up and plants that would kill you in seconds. You know Ma wouldn't approve, so you've kept it a secret from her.
Last year, they took a fourth one. Sweet, creative, kind-hearted Salome. It was the worst week of your life, watching her go through the horrors and the betrayal and the heartbreak. But she wore her name with pride. Grams tells you over and over again, it was meant to be, it was always meant to be like this. You're still not sure if you believe her. What you do know is that despite having your doubts about the Izar Curse, you can't help but admit there's some truth to it. The Capitol has taken child after child after child, and you want nothing more than for it all to end. So you hold on to your little ray of hope. You hold on to your family, and to the sanctuary you hold in Eleven, because right now, it's all you have.
