Thomas Cane (D8)
Thomas Cane coughed as he inhaled the factory smoke. The air was hot and muggy despite the cooling season and sweat beaded down Thomas's back. He hated the job and hated the day. He had wanted the day off to see the caskets coming in, but the Smith family had complained to his boss and there he was, stuck working when he should have been grieving.
If it wasn't for the fact that they had given birth to Cameron, Thomas would have hated the Smith family. They thought they were above him and had never approved of his relationship with Cameron. Not because they were gay, but because Thomas was poor and worked day in and day out in the factory. The Smith's thought Cameron deserved better, and he had, but no one could have loved Cameron more than he had.
Thomas hadn't cared for Cameron's riches. He hadn't care about his reputation or so called genius when it came to clothing. All he cared about was Cameron. Cameron had been a bright and confident boy that had stolen Thomas's heart the first time their eyes had met. Too bad Cameron never gave Thomas his heart back.
Thomas could hear the whistle of the train off in the distance and he punched a machine. Cameron would have tsked at him. He hadn't liked violence which had made Cameron's reaping even more horrible. Cameron had preferred beautiful things in the world-which always confused Thomas as to why Cameron had ever looked twice at him, or even at all. Cameron was everything Thomas was not and had been born with some many opportunities only to be cut down so early in life. It wasn't right and Thomas punched another machine. Another tsk from Cameron. Cameron, Cameron, Cameron.
Thomas broke down onto his knees and wept and no one touched him or stopped him. They left him to his sorrows that they themselves could not hope to understand.
Grimm Namet (D8)
Grimm had fought the urge all day long to punch anyone and everyone for their looks and stares. The ones he couldn't take the most were those that cried. As if they had the right to cry. They hadn't looked at his sister once before she died, and now they thought they had a right to weep? He would show them.
Larke had been a thousand times above these people, but none of them had ever admitted as much. They hadn't even acknowledged her existence until she had stood up to the girl Clement. Then, and only then, did they care. He wanted to deck each and every one of them. He told as much to Jonni, Larke's best friend.
Jonni sighed and shook his head at Grimm. "I think you're missing the point."
"The point? The point is that these bastards didn't care about her before and they don't have a right to act as if they're hurting!" He sent glares at those around them. "Yeah I'm talking about you! Get lost, or do you need me to knock it into your head?"
"Grimm, Grimm!" Jonni latched himself onto the older boy's arm and pulled him away from the scurrying people.
"The point is that people care! They finally care!" The much smaller and weaker boy yelled up at Grimm, admittedly drawing back, but then deciding better and standing taller. It was like a sheep howling at a wolf, but Jonni didn't care. Or, at least, he tried not to. "They finally saw who she really was! They're proud of her and hate themselves for the way they treated her! Can't you see that? They care! She's a hero to them!"
Grimm stared down at the short boy. "What took them so long, huh? What took them so long?"
"They're idiots?" Jonni cocked an eyebrow at him.
Grimm looked away and nodded. "They still never deserved her."
"I know. But I'm sure when she…died…she knew how proud of her everyone was and she finally realized what we saw in her. Her true worth she never believed she had."
A single tear fell from Grimm's eyes. "I was always proud of her. I don't think I ever told her that."
"She knew Grimm, she knew. She just needed to be proud of herself, and in the end, I believe she was. I really do.""