Post by Seryna on May 9, 2018 5:24:06 GMT -5
District Eight wasn't as cold as some places, but it was a cold time of year. Chill winds rattled the handful of skeletal trees, the leaves having fled weeks ago. The tenements and buildings were tall and grungy, taking up much of the sky. District 8 had built upwards, people living in family apartments in shared tenements with neighbors. Neighbors could be your saving grace here - a kind word, an uplifting smile. Or signs of decay and neglect could wrench the heart. It seemed no one had time to replant the trees and open spaces that the work place machinery shops and garment making factories had spread over. There was seldom any green or nature here. It made the green balloon that much more of an oddity - a single green latex balloon tied to a post in the town square. It bobbed with the strong wind, pink and yellow ribbons trailing down its string.
'Take me', was written on the balloon in pen. 'Play'.
District Eight was the most beautiful place on Earth, Grace thinks as she walks out of the Victors Village.
A few months ago, she and her family of six shared a three bed room apartment and thought themselves rich. Now they live in a mansion, a place of absurd size. All Grace had to do to earn it was kill two people.
And I almost lost myself to do it, she thinks.
Grace strolls along the path to the center of the district and seeks the market. In her pocket, peeking out, was a letter. It was from the love of her life. It was sent after she had stopped taking his phone calls from District Twelve. Grace didn't want to think about the letter. She didn't want to think of Rob, lone victor of his Games for his District. About how much pain these next few years would bring him. It certainly had to cause Ember, the amazing victor with the third highest kill count in the District, pain. She wondered about Ember for a minute. About how her life had gone, her children. Her husband. Mostly, Grace worried if Rob would continue to insist on coming to District Eight.
Grace wondered if she would marry her Co - Victor. It was a path that certain aids were whispering to her. She was saved mostly due to her age. She was crowned victor at 16 years of age. She didn't have to decide on if she would wed yet. And if she should listen to one particularly nasty Capitol aid, who with absolute innocence of her barbarity, suggested that Grace wed Gareth. That she would wed the boy, her neighbor all of her life, over the love of her life that she had found last year. She wondered some more about Ember and how she dealt with raising kids with a man from another District. Grace wondered if her people might cast ugly ulterior motives on her. Grace wondered when she became so obsessed with the inner workings of a stranger. The Victors used to seem to be Giants to a simple tailor's daughter. Now she was a Victor, rich. Alone with her thoughts. And terrified of her thoughts. She picked up a cluster of pink silk ribbon on the table and looked at the price. She had spent four months stealing scraps of ribbon just like this and hours threading the smallish pieces to make anything. She could afford this, now. Grace handed the merchant his money and slipped the pretty ribbon into her pouch. It was the pouch she had received from Comet.
Grace stroked the pouch. She'd nearly lost her integrity in how she'd handled Comet. She wondered if she had lost it, and only thought of herself as a person of integrity.
She turned and looked around the market place, searching. She found the balloon that she had inflated and put up before dawn this morning. All too often she had gone from school to work and then home, never time to form relationships with any except her immediate neighbors. Grace pulled out a piece of butterscotch candy and slipped it into the glove of a passing child. She didn't pause, walking towards that balloon.
Why was it still there? No child had time to play?
'Take me', was written on the balloon in pen. 'Play'.
District Eight was the most beautiful place on Earth, Grace thinks as she walks out of the Victors Village.
A few months ago, she and her family of six shared a three bed room apartment and thought themselves rich. Now they live in a mansion, a place of absurd size. All Grace had to do to earn it was kill two people.
And I almost lost myself to do it, she thinks.
Grace strolls along the path to the center of the district and seeks the market. In her pocket, peeking out, was a letter. It was from the love of her life. It was sent after she had stopped taking his phone calls from District Twelve. Grace didn't want to think about the letter. She didn't want to think of Rob, lone victor of his Games for his District. About how much pain these next few years would bring him. It certainly had to cause Ember, the amazing victor with the third highest kill count in the District, pain. She wondered about Ember for a minute. About how her life had gone, her children. Her husband. Mostly, Grace worried if Rob would continue to insist on coming to District Eight.
Grace wondered if she would marry her Co - Victor. It was a path that certain aids were whispering to her. She was saved mostly due to her age. She was crowned victor at 16 years of age. She didn't have to decide on if she would wed yet. And if she should listen to one particularly nasty Capitol aid, who with absolute innocence of her barbarity, suggested that Grace wed Gareth. That she would wed the boy, her neighbor all of her life, over the love of her life that she had found last year. She wondered some more about Ember and how she dealt with raising kids with a man from another District. Grace wondered if her people might cast ugly ulterior motives on her. Grace wondered when she became so obsessed with the inner workings of a stranger. The Victors used to seem to be Giants to a simple tailor's daughter. Now she was a Victor, rich. Alone with her thoughts. And terrified of her thoughts. She picked up a cluster of pink silk ribbon on the table and looked at the price. She had spent four months stealing scraps of ribbon just like this and hours threading the smallish pieces to make anything. She could afford this, now. Grace handed the merchant his money and slipped the pretty ribbon into her pouch. It was the pouch she had received from Comet.
Grace stroked the pouch. She'd nearly lost her integrity in how she'd handled Comet. She wondered if she had lost it, and only thought of herself as a person of integrity.
She turned and looked around the market place, searching. She found the balloon that she had inflated and put up before dawn this morning. All too often she had gone from school to work and then home, never time to form relationships with any except her immediate neighbors. Grace pulled out a piece of butterscotch candy and slipped it into the glove of a passing child. She didn't pause, walking towards that balloon.
Why was it still there? No child had time to play?