Innermuse A/N: I am soooooo sorry that I haven't updated in such a long time! I'm sure everyone's lost interest in the story by now. :( Even so, I'm starting to have more time after my move, and I had a great idea when I woke up for this character. So here she is: Lukha Nemse of District 9, brought to you by AstridThorsBambino!
I walk through the field of dull brown barley, stretching out both my arms, letting the prickly stalks brush my arms and scratch around my neck, dropping snow around me. I carefully plan each step as I take it: lift leg, extend, put down your foot, lift the other leg...
Finally I reach where I am going. A hill rises in the middle of the field, bare of grain but covered in slushy snow, and hardly showing over the tall cut stalks surrounding it. I quicken my pace and head around it to the side that faces away from the town. Then, ducking, I head inside the gaping hole masked loosely with stalks and snow.
I turn to my left just as I enter the tunnel, grabbing a flashlight from the basket. I throw the beam around the walls as I walk, thankful that it's lighting my path. As I descend deeper into the tunnel, and farther underground, I feel the temperature around me. Soon the air around me is so cold that my air makes a cloud in front of my face.
This is the perfect place for my father's secret beer factory. I'm quite proud of him, really. He was so smart to find this unknown tunnel, with a cave that leads down into a huge underground cavern. After he was fired by our neighbor, a wheat farmer, he determined to find a different way to survive, and it seemed that an underground, illegal, musty beer industry was better than a non-existant one. Thus, Nemse Beer Ltd. was born.
When I emerge into the cavern, I'm nearly at the top of the cavern. It actually extends much farther down- about a hundred feet. From below I can hear the whirring machinery, and the smell of both barley and alcohol blends together beautifully.
On another platform far away, I can see Dad conversing with another buyer, a past victor from the Hunger Games who wants to forget his troubles for a while. He's a frequent customer of this place, as any alcohol aboveground is practically illegal.
My dad and the victor shake hands, and the victor disappears back into the tunnel he is closest to, probably the one that leads to the Victor's Village.
I run toward my dad and wrap him in a bear hug. My dad staggers back a step or two before taking my shoulders and pulling me back from him. His grey eyes look at me carefully. I like his eyes, especially because they are also mine.
"What are you doing here, Lukha?" he asks. "You should be getting ready for the selection."
"I am ready." I smile and pull fully away from him, twirling around so he has a good view of my outfit. It's a silvery-grey dress with a thick black hooded jacket over it. I also curled my hair, because it was just wavy this morning, and I wanted it to look a little more put-together.
In spite of himself, my father smiles. "You look like a princess," he said, "A snow princess."
I kiss him on the cheek. "Then you are a king, Dad," I say.
"Your smile is just like your mother's," he says. He is still smiling, but it is a sad smile. "Melts my heart every time."
I stop grinning for a moment at the memory. My mother starved to death two winters ago, when my father had just been fired and was trying to find employment. Just a week later, he found the big cavernous space underground, and the idea for the factory was born. I've never been starving since.
"But the selection is still soon," he said, getting back to the point.
"I just wanted to say good-bye to you," I say, "I mean, even if I don't get chosen, I'll still be gone all day at the after-parties."
"I'll see you tomorrow then?" he says, raising an eyebrow in that way that means he expects a yes.
I pause for a moment, pretending to contemplate this. He widens his eyes a little bit, and then we both laugh. "Yes," I giggle. I kiss him again on the cheek quickly and then run back to the tunnel I came through. "Bye, Dad! I love you!" I yell over my shoulder.
As I walk along the roads to the square, it starts to snow. I like how the big, wet flakes look, drifting through the air. They feel cold and tingly as they land on my neck and hands. I shiver delightfully at the sensation.
When I get to the square, I stop in silence, staring. There is a young couple, only about eighteen, holding hands and kissing. I can't help staring; after all, I've never really known what it's like to be in love. I kind of want to be in love. It seems so nice. And if I ever get married, I know who I'd want to marry: someone exactly like my father.
The two break apart and the girl waves to him, beaming, as she takes her place with the group of eighteen year old girls. I join the seventeen year old girls and look up at the big clock in the square. It's still five minutes until the selection ceremony will start.
I entertain myself by people-watching. I count the number of people around me with light hair compared to dark. Most of them have light hair. I compare people with straight hair to curly, and almost all of them have curly hair, although I recognize a few who usually have straight hair.
Suddenly, I hear my name whispered behind me. I turn my head just slightly and see two girls in my section looking at the back of my legs and talking discreetly to each other. My face flushes with embarrassment; they have obviously noticed my scar.
I got the scar only a few months ago, so it is still quite prominent. It was one of those rare times when I was on the ground of the beer factory cavern, close to the machinery. I saw my dad and started running to him, the same way that I did this morning to hug him.
Suddenly, one of the whirring pieces of the machinery broke loose from its belt. The piece whipped out at me. I remember my dad screaming my name and running at me. I tried to dodge the sharp metal, and I'm fast, so it didn't impale my abdomen, like it would have if I hadn't moved. But it scratched right down the back of my thigh, and I'm now left with this scar.
The girls talking about me notice me looking at them, and they blush, ashamed. They quickly turn around, as though they never talked about me. I turn away from them, too, giving them a last glare even though they're not even looking at me anymore.
Just then our district escort comes on stage. She's silver all over-eyes, hair, nails, lips, skin, outfit. She's so grey-white that she almost disappears in the drifting snow. Her eyes also seem unnaturally large, so I avoid them at all costs.
She has an airy, wispy voice that is all but lost in the sounds of the square. Finally, she goes to the ball full of the names of all the girls in the district. She selects a piece of pink paper from the bowl and then returns to the microphone.
"And the lucky contestant for the Princess of Panem Beauty Pageant is..." She pauses for drama, her eyes slipping over the crowd. She grins with an open mouth, and my stomach does a flip inside of me. Her tongue and teeth are silver.
Then I watch her mouth, and everything seems to go silent as her lips form the name; "Lukha Nemse."
I'm the District 9 contestant for the Beauty Pageant! What a shock Dad'll have when he gets home tomorrow morning...