stitching and { splintering } // ryan

[Stare]

eden's far from where i lie
stars pull me under, whisper goodbye
burning stones cast me aside
while sister sparrow learns to fly
and wealth echoes out alone

Cord hadn't even bothered to clean the blood off her face. It was smeared into an ugly crimson half smile, staining the cracks in her chapped lips scarlet and blotting out the freckles on the left side of her face, where a bruise was quickly starting to spread over her swelling cheekbone. Nothing was broken - probably - but it wasn't the pain that was hastening her steps. It was the sweater clutched in one hand, clean of blood but torn right at the shoulder.

Her mother loved that sweater. It was her absolute favorite, and Cord had gone and ruined it.

She'd heard the name Gabel tossed around enough to know that they were among the best for what she could afford, even in Eight. It was an impressive reputation, but Cord had no intentions of flattering them. She had no doubt they would stare her on their front porch or back lawn or whatever it was they had, wide eyes sweeping over the blood and her bare arms exposed to the bitter cold. It didn't matter. She wasn't asking for niceties. It was a business transaction, for Ripred's sake.

People were just too polite. Too damn polite.

When she found the house she faltered, eyes darting between the door and a figure she spotted folded up against a nearby tree. She finally decided on the latter, approaching him with all the timidness of a stampeding elephant. "Oy! Tall, dark, and brooding! Is this the Gabel house?" She held the sweater up, careful not to tear it even more. "Can they fix this?"

beneath the hill where thieves will die
spears pierce a sacred side
pious men resume their fight
daggers piercing from their eyes
bleeding out upon the floor

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

we were on fire
I slashed your tires
its like we burn so bright
we burn out

I had finally finished the quota for my mother. She wanted me to make something for the end of the recent hunger games so she could find a way to sell it to the capitol or something. As much as I didn’t want to meet her demands, this time, she threatened me. She told me that if I didn’t complete the task that she would throw me out pronto. Of course, I didn’t believe her though, as talented as she was, she just didn’t have the touch I could give anything I created.

I treated the fabric I used like it was my own flesh. I made sure nothing was cramped and cluttered. I took my time stitching thing. I looped each thread carefully so I wouldn’t have to rip the fabric to fix a mistake. While my mother was all about the quick and easy, I was about slow and steady. It always won the race after all. People could tell the difference between our work, and while there were times I wished I could push things out faster, I didn’t worry about it. She would get her things when I felt like it. I would go at my pace.

My art.

My rules.

However, there was a girl yelling outside my house, and I couldn’t fathom why. Why would someone come by the Gabel house screaming randomly? I peered out the door as I caught a look at the girl. To my shock, she looked like she had been through the wringer. However, I could tell that wasn’t on her mind. No. Instead, she was holding up a sweater, which looked like it was tattered itself. “Aye, I can fix that.” I said, walking out the front door. ”Though you do know you are covered it what I can only assume is blood.” I paused for a minute, moving towards the rocking chair that was on my porch and taking a seat in it. ”Tell me, why is that?”

I made you chase me
I wasnt that friendly
my love my drug
were fucked up

[Stare]

eden's far from where i lie
stars pull me under, whisper goodbye
burning stones cast me aside
while sister sparrow learns to fly
and wealth echoes out alone

She glared at first the boy and then the house through narrowed eyes, the fingers of her free hand restlessly curling and uncurling. She felt that familiar ember beginning to glow, just below the center of her ribcage, and knew she had to be careful. Where other people had levels of self control, she had a temper that was easy to spark and even easier to set alight. Frowning at the porch, she stepped up so she was close enough to hand him the sweater, drawing back her bruised and cracking knuckles quickly.

The true story was that she'd made a point to wear her mother's nicest sweater when she went to battle the land lady with a wad of cash that wasn't enough and firm, sincere promises that she could get the rest soon. She would hardly call what they lived in a true house - if anything, it was more of a rundown shack shoved into the grimiest part of Three - but it was home, and she had no intentions of losing it anytime soon. The land lady's quick but condescending agreement had put Cord in a bad mood, and she'd barely made it two blocks before she got into a fight.

Stay out of trouble, her mother had begged.

Stupid.

"Got into a fight," she muttered, swiping at the blood on her mouth with the back of her wrist. "That's none of your business, though, is it? Unless it somehow magically makes you fix it faster." She paused, then glanced away, frowning. "Can you... are you good enough to make it look like it didn't happen?"

beneath the hill where thieves will die
spears pierce a sacred side
pious men resume their fight
daggers piercing from their eyes
bleeding out upon the floor

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

we were on fire
I slashed your tires
its like we burn so bright
we burn out

The girl confused me, but not in the sense that I cared what she did. It was her fixation on the sweater that she was holding. If I had half a mind, I would say it was stolen, however, the way she held it. She cared about it. It was special to her. It was something that she wanted me to fix. It was something that she needed me to fix. For a moment, I thought about how sweet the thought was, however, it was clouded right back up by the fact that she was battered and bruised. It looked like she went 10 rounds with the hei-hei from the 76th games. She won, but barely.

I watched as she walked closer to me and she handed me the sweater, which honestly looked like something my mother made, I thought about taking it. I didn’t know if I could trust her, but from the look in her eyes, she looked like she was sincere enough.

Well…

About the sweater at the least.

”No, it isn’t any of my business persay, but…” I say, trying to think of my words carefully so I don’t step on what I assumed are her already bruised toes. ”… you should be nicer to someone that you are asking something of.” I had to be blunt in my words because I had a feeling that was the only way I could get through to her. ”But yes, I can make it look like nothing ever happened.” I say to her, taking the sweater in my hand. ”Tell me, why is this sweater important to you?”

I made you chase me
I wasnt that friendly
my love my drug
were fucked up

[Stare]

eden's far from where i lie
stars pull me under, whisper goodbye
burning stones cast me aside
while sister sparrow learns to fly
and wealth echoes out alone

"I'm not asking for a favor, I'm paying you," she sneered, leaning her good shoulder against the side of the house. "But you're pretty posh, aren't you? I guess the rich can afford to have good manners."

She knew he wasn't rich, but he at least had a real roof over his head, which was better than what she had. The winter months were getting worse, the cold so bitter it was painful, and she'd started stealing extra blankets to keep her mother and kid brother warm through the nights. The boy in front of her might not have been as wealthy as a Capitolite, but she doubted he had to worry about freezing to death in his sleep.

"Seems a little personal, don't you think?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do you usually interrogate your clients? Or am I just special?" She folded her arms over her chest and watched her breath drift away in clouds. Her fingers were almost numb, and the unprotected skin on her arms hurt stung every time the wind blew. She swore the blood was beginning to freeze. "You haven't even asked me what my name is. I know we run in different circles, but it's that kind of standard?"

beneath the hill where thieves will die
spears pierce a sacred side
pious men resume their fight
daggers piercing from their eyes
bleeding out upon the floor

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

we were on fire
I slashed your tires
its like we burn so bright
we burn out

This girl was starting to annoy me just a bit. I don’t know why, but it could have been because she reminded me of my mother. The way she spoke, she seemed like she had a lot of baggage. Of course, it wasn’t my place to call her out on any of this, because at the end of the day, she was right. But she was also wrong. ”I never said you asked me for a favor. Nor did I say anything about paying me. You simply twisted my words.” I sighed. ”Not everyone is bad. It doesn’t matter if I am posh or rich.” I cant seem to think of any nicer way to put this. ”I am a person, don’t put my class before that.”

I look at the girl again, and think about what made her this way. Of course, I didn’t want to assume anything, but I had this feeling that she just didn’t like people. She didn’t trust them. I could understand that. Sometimes people were hard to get along with. However, I still knew how to think of people with good intentions. Wrong me once though and I could very well become the girl that was standing in front of me. Broken, tattered up, and bruised.

The smell of copper wafted past my nose and the first thing I felt for this girl was sadness. I could see why she treated people the way she did. She seemed like she was always trying to prove herself to someone. It wasn’t my place though to tell someone to let things go. Everyone had to find their own way after all.

However, maybe I could help just a little bit. At least give her a lesson in humility. Whether she wanted it or not.

”Personal yes, but I still think it is a valid question.” I said to her, being honest while looking at the hole in the jacket. This wouldn’t be too tough to stitch up, and by the way it was ripped, it didn’t seem like it would be noticeable. ”And no, I don’t. However, sometimes talking about things is a great way to understand what the client wants out of me.” I looked at her, trying to give her a look that shows that I cared more than the normal person. Obviously she hasn’t been shown kindness, which saddens me, but also opens my eyes to what the world real is.

Mean.

”Okay fine. What is your name?” I said to her quickly before standing up and grabbing a blanket that I kept on the porch during the colder months and handing it to her. ”Please put this on. I think it’s a little too cold out here for you not to have something around your wounds.” I sighed, looking at the inside of my place. My mother was out on one of her trips to go knows where. Probably to acquire more materials for me to work with. I didn’t know. ”Or, you could keep questioning my intentions.” I said, holding the sweater that she wanted me to fix in her hands. ”Come inside and warm up a bit. What I need is in the house.” I looked back at her, opening the door and walking into my house. I had her sweater in hand, so I knew she would follow.

Hopefully this would be the first link in the chain.

I made you chase me
I wasnt that friendly
my love my drug
were fucked up