hiding from reality . cato

[k!ah]

ARABELLA SHIRLEY

"I close my eyes and I can see

The world that's waiting up for me

That I call my own
Through the dark, through the door
Through where no one's been before
But it feels like home."

The trees swayed around her. Branches like fingers, pale and cracked like the discarded bones of those who rotten in the cemetery. Her mind imagined the wind to be howling through the barren branches, causing shivers to run down her spine. The air laced with the chill of a winters day. She didn't wear a lot, her thin dress exposing her to the chill. She allowed it to wash over her, to caress her body with its icy touch. She liked that it added a realist element to her game. She wanted to feel like the distressed warrior that crowded her imagination, the one who had fallen from grace and had no choice but to flea.

Her feet made little sound on the foliage as she raced through the looming trucks of dying trees. They could not hide from the weather, the bark dry and weathered to the touch. Her fingers brushed against one of them, her eyes flashing to observe the terrain behind her. Alone. Her skin numb from the could, her hair wild from the air which interlaced with the dark strands. Her heart in her throat she comes across the familiar hollowed out trunk of a tree. It stands taller than those around it and with hurried steps she takes shelter in its depth.

Since leaving this place as a child she had often returned, each time brining something new to make it more and more a picture of her imagination. Pot plants that were sheltered from the weather littered the floor, a small chest placed in the corner filled with so many papers that it was almost over flowing. That chest contained everything that she had written, it contained the numerous world which she had created. Character who she loved, who she hated, who she envied. It was something of upmost importance to her.

Sheltered in the hollow of the tree, she allowed her imagination to run free once again. She imagined she heard yells in the distance. They spoke of finding the traitor. They called to one an another to capture her, to chain her and to lock her away for a lifetime. She felt her blood rushing, warming her chilled skin. Her heart once again pounding in her hears. She heard the footsteps come closer, but the yells faded. The scuffle of boots, the foliage that coated the earth rustling beneath foot.

She peaks from one of the creases in the bark and her eye spies movement. Suddenly her mind blanks, her like parting into an 'o' shape. Wait, had she just imagined that movement, or was there actually someone out there? Pausing she stopped to listen again, this time her mind anchored to reality. There it was again, the steps closer this time. Frowning she moves to the entry way, her eye scanning the surroundings once again. Now that her mind was no longer focussed on fantasy, her body shook, the chill of the morning air biting at her skin. "Hello? Hello, is anyone there?"

[Cato]

Drogon Rhodes

Outstretched arms reach towards the sky as a gentle breeze taps my extended hands. Summer is almost there, and all I desire is to spend my time outdoors away from all this mess. The curfew makes it difficult to enjoy the cool evenings after working all day in the fields. Not to mention the peacekeepers walking around like the own the place. It all makes it more difficult. Right now, most of my time outdoors is spent laboring in the sun where I’m under constant watch making sure nothing goes wrong. My name carries a burden, and it’s almost as though people think I’ll act out and step across the line. I miss the nights where I could leave my house and find a place to simply relax and unwind from the day, but now it’s been taken away.

Today is no different than any other day especially that the sun is slowly making its appearance known. A walk sounds nice, but I can’t go far. Work has to be done. Slacking only causes problems, and we have enough problems within the district especially now. I can still see the smoke from the silo fires. So much was lost in the mess, and now I feel as though I’m having to work even more. Sometimes working in the orchards come with a price, and that’s why I enjoy venturing out to the furthest ones. Very few people work here, and the fruit is of great abundance when the time is right. My eyes shift towards the sky as a bird plays a musical tune. I want to be like them. Free without any chains holding me back.

My hands wrap around a bag and a hatchet when I reach my destination. Pruning the trees is important, and then picking up the dead branches is even more important. Leaving a mess behind is a way to end up in trouble. Some of the trees are blooming, and if they want any chance of surviving long, the dead branches need to crumble against the ground where nature can consume them once more. Beads of sweat roll from my brow as I keep hacking away at the branches until a couple of trees are finished. Dropping the hatchet towards the ground, and I make a mental note to return it to its rightful place before leaving. And in that moment, I go to work bagging up all the dead branches before slowly walking away.

But as I’m walking, the bag rips, and the branches erupt from within covering the ground before me. I still have a lot of work to do today, and this is only holding me back. No excuses. I start picking them up, and I’m moving around being loud, and I don’t even care. Right now, I’m all alone, or at least I thought I was. I wipe the sweat from my brow as I hear a voice asking if anyone is there. I don’t know what to do. Why wouldn’t someone be here? I want to ask, but the words never leave my lips. Instead, I have to find something else because this might not be bad at all.

District Eleven

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[k!ah]

ARABELLA SHIRLEY

"I close my eyes and I can see

The world that's waiting up for me

That I call my own
Through the dark, through the door
Through where no one's been before
But it feels like home."

Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. Maybe this was just a part of the story she had created and she just hand't realised it yet. She often did get so invested in the stories that she created that she would find herself thinking of them long after she had resurfaced. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and forced her mind to go blank. She had been so sure that she was alone, that the people of the district never really found themselves straying into this field But maybe she had been wrong, maybe this field wasn't as abandoned as she initially thought.

She inhales, with that breath, she clears it, making sure there was no residue of the fallen warrior that had ran through it, fighting for her life was gone, and she was just Bella. She was no warrior, but the adoptive daughter of two kind strangers.

Exhaling, her mind is blank.

Her bare feet carry her from the shelter of her hollowed out tree, her eyes once again searching the surrounding area. It took few a moment before she saw the figure. It was large, instantly she assumed it was a man. A sharp intake of breath and she find herself heading towards him. Questions already forming on her lips, her eyes filled with curiosity. When she reached him, she couldn't help herself. She sighed, her eyes dancing with excitement as she took in his tall frame, his handsome face, and serious eyes. A warrior. Yes, that's what he looked like.

"You look like one of the warriors from my stories. So strong. So handsome." She doesn't realise she has spoken out loud until it is too late. This was something that she often did, her mind getting carried away, her lips unable to stops itself before spilling the secrets without processing what she was actually saying. "I'm sorry, that's an odd thing to hear from a total stranger. My parents- well their not my birth parents- but I suppose that wouldn't matter to you," her words are as scrambled as her thoughts. She stops, gathering herself for a moment. Thinking."My parents often say that I need to think before I speak. I tend to get overly excited, way too quickly." She smiles at him, tucking a few strands of her wind kissed hair behind her ears. "As you can probably tell," she finishes, for the first time taking a look at what he had been doing.

"What are you doing?" The questions falls past her lips before she can lay eyes on the ripped bag clutched between his fingers, its contents spilled across the ground. "Your bag, it's ripped," as if he didn't know that, "do you need a hand?"