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Literature Text
"This is ridiculous. What are the chances..." The voice was male, soft and deep, most likely speaking to himself. But that didn't matter to her. Talking helped. Talking was doing something. Talking meant that she could not be waiting.
"There are currently about 96 thousand people in the capital. Roughly 1/3 will be children. If you divide that by 3 again, you'll have a rough estimate of the 12-18 population. That's 1 out of 10.6 thousand individuals... or technically 24 out of 10.6 thousand, or 1 out of 500 people. That's how bad our luck is"
The girl stood off to the side, speaking up for the first time since they were all united inside the mansion while they waited. The tension was killing her. Not literally, but figuratively. She watched the others, her heart firing off in a jack-rabbit of a pace. She could hardly believe this, could hardly believe what was happening. How could this be happening? What mob of twisted idiots -excuse her language- would force kids to go through something like this?
"There are currently about 96 thousand people in the capital. Roughly 1/3 will be children. If you divide that by 3 again, you'll have a rough estimate of the 12-18 population. That's 1 out of 10.6 thousand individuals... or technically 24 out of 10.6 thousand, or 1 out of 500 people. That's how bad our luck is"
The girl stood off to the side, speaking up for the first time since they were all united inside the mansion while they waited. The tension was killing her. Not literally, but figuratively. She watched the others, her heart firing off in a jack-rabbit of a pace. She could hardly believe this, could hardly believe what was happening. How could this be happening? What mob of twisted idiots -excuse her language- would force kids to go through something like this?
***
4 hours earlier
4 hours earlier
Kylee Adali Perott was his daughter. She was his only daughter and only heir to his throne crafted by decades of talent, magnificence, and fashion. His wickedly curved neon claws clenched the arms of the chair he was perched in. Milmur Perott may be have been a terrible father, but he was a father nonetheless and he'd be damned if those mangy district mutts would host a Capitol Hunger Games... of course, he was technically damned since Kylee got a garden that rivaled even Eden (which now resided upon the 2nd floor of their home) instead of a fashion workshop or when the tribute from four years ago lost the Games, as well as many other countless times throughout his established career path. But this time. This time he would definitely and most absolutely be damned.
"I-is anything wrong, father?"
He jerked his head up at the sound of his daughters voice, hastily closing the electronic blue screen that had displayed in bold letters "Capitol kids on chopping block".
"No, my dear."
"It's almost time for our lessons... Did you forget?"
"no, of course not, I just- Go work in your garden; I forgot I had business to attend to. I can't teach you today"
"oh... thank you." The soft shuffle of petite sandled feet blended in with the buzzing background noise
"yes, yes" He threw a distracted wave with a clawed hand "go on now"
He watched as the slight figure disappeared from the doorway before once again pulling up the screen, glaring it down with an even sharper stare. He'd be damned. Pulling up his iridescent cape with a flourish, Milmur went to go 'attend to business'.
"I-is anything wrong, father?"
He jerked his head up at the sound of his daughters voice, hastily closing the electronic blue screen that had displayed in bold letters "Capitol kids on chopping block".
"No, my dear."
"It's almost time for our lessons... Did you forget?"
"no, of course not, I just- Go work in your garden; I forgot I had business to attend to. I can't teach you today"
"oh... thank you." The soft shuffle of petite sandled feet blended in with the buzzing background noise
"yes, yes" He threw a distracted wave with a clawed hand "go on now"
He watched as the slight figure disappeared from the doorway before once again pulling up the screen, glaring it down with an even sharper stare. He'd be damned. Pulling up his iridescent cape with a flourish, Milmur went to go 'attend to business'.
***
She peered out the window, watching her fathers spindly almost spider-like frame stride away, before turning back to the sprawling tended forest before her. An hour passed and the thick scent of foliage rested upon her like a warm blanket, the sharp fragrance of a flower occasionally cutting through. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled up the article her father had been reading. The blue letters that greeted her glowed ignorantly, not even noticing that its owners face grew pale at its news.
Silence fell, and the comforting warm blanket became hot and sticky. suffocating.
"you're joking me. I-I thought the Districts were... just, peaceful. This-"
She burst through the doors and out into the cool hall, slamming the crystal panes shut behind her. Her legs gave out and she slid to the floor, dimly aware of the chill of the long silent dark. empty. alone. Her eyes were fixed upon the letters with horror. Kids would die, innocent kids, kids that had a future, that could change Panem for the better, people that could advocate peace and penance. This was just...
"insane. This is insane."
A knock on the main doors ran through the halls, reaching the sole inhabitants ears. Kylee winced, hastily tucking away the article. Her father had caught her reading. Not good. She ran through the maze of hallways she had marked by memory to reach the door, trying to think of an excuse, none came to mind... not that she was good at lying anyway.
"Fath-"
Her voice fell away as she pulled open the door, revealing black accented white clothe. This wasn't her dad, no possible way.
"Hey there. kid. We're here to pick you up, if you could come with- hey. HEY!"
She shot off, retreating hastily back into the maze of corridors, peacekeepers hot on her figurative tail (she never did get one all those years ago, no matter how much she had begged her father... which was great in hindsight). oh, shucks. oh, man. Father was going to kill her. She shouldn't have opened the door. Her feet skidded about the corner as she zig-zagged, away from the groping hands, and expressionless helmets.
Kylee ducked into a nook, trying to quiet her strained breathing and rabbiting heart beat. From the safety of the dark, she watched two disgruntled Peacekeepers pass by with a "where'd the brat go". Yeah, like that'd get her to come out of her hiding spot. She edged further and further away from the pair into the next corridor, only to come face to face with a shielded head.
The girl leapt back, a squeak managing to squeeze itself out of her throat.
"h-hi..."
An arm reached down, scooping her up easily. She felt helpless. no...she just thought she felt helpless.
"you shouldn't make trouble for us, kid. We're trying to do our jobs."
"sorry..." that's right. Peacekeepers were supposed to be the good guys, so why had her brain told her to bolt? She rested her head against the armored chest, exhausted. probably because her brain had connected 2 and 2 together to create 4. "I can walk on my own, sir."
She walked along, beside the towering giant that didn't utter another word to her. Did he have a family? Did he have a child? She quickened her pace to keep up with the Peacekeeper. Was he worried that his kid would become a tribute, like she would be?
The 14 year old jerked to a halt, stunned. She was barely aware that the adult clad in white turned back and started toward her. oh, man. oh, man. she was---
"I'm going to be a tribute f-for the Hunger Games, aren't I?" she tilted her head up to stare into the mask, trying to find some semblance of an emotion. It's as if she were staring at one of those really really antique screens that don't automatically power up when someone walks up to it. nothing. blank. dead.
"aren't I." The peacekeeper glanced down in only what she could assume was surprise at the commanding ring in her words.
"I don't think I appreciate that tone" He said after a moment of recovery, she could barely make out the hard-edged eyes that looked down upon her, her attention consumed by the hand caressing a baton. She quieted as she was pulled off a bit more roughly.
"this is insane..."
Silence fell, and the comforting warm blanket became hot and sticky. suffocating.
"you're joking me. I-I thought the Districts were... just, peaceful. This-"
She burst through the doors and out into the cool hall, slamming the crystal panes shut behind her. Her legs gave out and she slid to the floor, dimly aware of the chill of the long silent dark. empty. alone. Her eyes were fixed upon the letters with horror. Kids would die, innocent kids, kids that had a future, that could change Panem for the better, people that could advocate peace and penance. This was just...
"insane. This is insane."
A knock on the main doors ran through the halls, reaching the sole inhabitants ears. Kylee winced, hastily tucking away the article. Her father had caught her reading. Not good. She ran through the maze of hallways she had marked by memory to reach the door, trying to think of an excuse, none came to mind... not that she was good at lying anyway.
"Fath-"
Her voice fell away as she pulled open the door, revealing black accented white clothe. This wasn't her dad, no possible way.
"Hey there. kid. We're here to pick you up, if you could come with- hey. HEY!"
She shot off, retreating hastily back into the maze of corridors, peacekeepers hot on her figurative tail (she never did get one all those years ago, no matter how much she had begged her father... which was great in hindsight). oh, shucks. oh, man. Father was going to kill her. She shouldn't have opened the door. Her feet skidded about the corner as she zig-zagged, away from the groping hands, and expressionless helmets.
Kylee ducked into a nook, trying to quiet her strained breathing and rabbiting heart beat. From the safety of the dark, she watched two disgruntled Peacekeepers pass by with a "where'd the brat go". Yeah, like that'd get her to come out of her hiding spot. She edged further and further away from the pair into the next corridor, only to come face to face with a shielded head.
The girl leapt back, a squeak managing to squeeze itself out of her throat.
"h-hi..."
An arm reached down, scooping her up easily. She felt helpless. no...she just thought she felt helpless.
"you shouldn't make trouble for us, kid. We're trying to do our jobs."
"sorry..." that's right. Peacekeepers were supposed to be the good guys, so why had her brain told her to bolt? She rested her head against the armored chest, exhausted. probably because her brain had connected 2 and 2 together to create 4. "I can walk on my own, sir."
She walked along, beside the towering giant that didn't utter another word to her. Did he have a family? Did he have a child? She quickened her pace to keep up with the Peacekeeper. Was he worried that his kid would become a tribute, like she would be?
The 14 year old jerked to a halt, stunned. She was barely aware that the adult clad in white turned back and started toward her. oh, man. oh, man. she was---
"I'm going to be a tribute f-for the Hunger Games, aren't I?" she tilted her head up to stare into the mask, trying to find some semblance of an emotion. It's as if she were staring at one of those really really antique screens that don't automatically power up when someone walks up to it. nothing. blank. dead.
"aren't I." The peacekeeper glanced down in only what she could assume was surprise at the commanding ring in her words.
"I don't think I appreciate that tone" He said after a moment of recovery, she could barely make out the hard-edged eyes that looked down upon her, her attention consumed by the hand caressing a baton. She quieted as she was pulled off a bit more roughly.
"this is insane..."
A.K.A: Her father's going to kill her.
the language is very moderate and the barrier there only just in case.
starring my Kylee, who strongly reminds me of some unnamed individual.
"Wot's this? Writing? " you gasp. Why yes, it is!
the language is very moderate and the barrier there only just in case.
starring my Kylee, who strongly reminds me of some unnamed individual.
"Wot's this? Writing? " you gasp. Why yes, it is!
© 2014 - 2024 Pochikohaku
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