Azalea
Fragility
Tyra Canorzia, District Eight Female, Sixteen
The morning passes by so quickly in the district.
Midday brings about the warmer side of the day, the citizens of Eight taking a much-needed break; many of those that have started their day in the early morning now taking their first break. The whole district slowing down for an hour or two, everyone sitting down on spare benches, beginning to eat their food.
Lunchtime is what most people would call it, and it happens to be one of Tyra Canorzia's favourite times of the day. This is when she hatches her plans, preparing and executing them to near perfection. She smiles to herself as she mixes the batter with her baking spoon, humming a little tune to herself.
Her parents aren't home, not surprising, as she takes over the whole kitchen. The smell of baked goods wafting in the summer air. There's a knack to baking that Tyra seems to cling to, and using such domestic skills with her schemes makes it even better.
She places the batter in separate cupcake trays carefully evening them out. She inspects each one before putting it into the oven, using an egg timer as a reminder. She looks through the glass of the oven pleased with herself.
Tyra starts to tidy her mess, cleaning her utensils and bowls, and continuing to hum her merry tune. She brushes past the piece of paper that went through her mail this morning, and all of a sudden her happy humming seems to die out as she remembers the note.
She frowns to herself, feeling her heartbeat a bit faster than usual as she continues to wash the dishes in silence. She looks away from the piece of paper, puts the bowls on the drying rack, and then jumps at the sound of the 'ding' of the egg timer.
The girl clutched at her chest, sighing as she rushes towards the oven. She looks through the glass once more and she frowns, quickly taking the tray of muffins out. She sighs out loud as she stares at the slightly burnt muffins. She chews on her thumb trying to spin her plan a different way, the note seemingly at the back of her mind now.
She takes the note and crumples it up, putting it in her pocket as she begins to put the muffins away in her basket. She looks at the clock in the kitchen, she's already running a little late as she rushes outside her door. She holds onto the basket tightly rushing towards the wealthier side of the district, where she used to live.
The note was an ever-present thought in her mind. She bites her lip nervously, only smiling when people greet her as she reaches the wealthy side of Eight. She reminisces about the time when she would walk this same street every day; back to the day when her parents seemed happier.
They used to be part of this community but after her parents have done some despicable things, they never forgave them. However, they forgave their daughter, because she is nothing like them; or so they thought.
Approaching one of the houses she knows best, she knocks on the door, plastering on the best smile she can muster as the door opens to an elderly lady. The older woman gives her a smile in return, her Gray hair up in a neat bun. She seems happy to see Tyra.
"Ah! Tyra, my dear, how can I help you?" She exclaims dusting her hands on her dress.
"Mrs. Threader, good afternoon, I made some cupcakes for the neighbourhood, I was wondering if you'd like some?" She says smile persisting.
"Why of course!" She says as she steps back to let Tyra inside. "Come in, come in."
Tyra walks inside, the hallway is small and pristine. Various paintings and pictures hang on either side of the wall of people and places around the district. She can tell that Mrs. Threader has lived a life for sure. She is directed towards the sitting room.
"I'm going to get us some tea, please take a seat here whilst I go to the kitchen." Mrs. Threader says as she disappears into the kitchen on the other side of the hall.
Tyra just waves her goodbye placing the basket of muffins on the coffee table as she begins to scope out the wares. She approaches a cabinet filled with various knickknacks and ornaments. Some looked tacker but others look pretty expensive, specifically this little crystalline dog.
She goes to sit on one of the softer seats as she can hear plates clattering with each other. There's a part of her that feels guilty for what she is about to do, but at the same time, she needed this. The paper in her pocket burns on her side. She looks around once more before speaking.
"Is your son home, Mrs. Threader?" She calls out, trying to look for more interesting things inside the sitting room.
"Blaise? No, no he is working today." She replies from the kitchen, this time she can hear the kettle boiling, whistling along with her voice.
"How is he?" She asks, finding nothing else of interest.
"He's doing well, working hard as usual." Tyra hears the older woman walk into the sitting room, holding onto a tray containing a teapot and some cups.
Tyra stands from her seat to go and help her with the tray, smiling as she takes it putting it down on the coffee table, beside her muffin basket. She watches as the woman pours her some tea and then adds some sugar and milk, as what she likes. She sips the hot tea, the creaminess of the milk, and the sweetness of the sugar melding together perfectly.
"Please help yourself to a muffin, I do apologise for it being slightly burnt." She says apologetically. "I was a bit distracted earlier when I was making them."
"Nonsense, dear." She says. "Your baked goods are always delicious no matter what."
She smiles at the compliment before looking at the clock in the room. She stands up and excuses herself for the bathroom. "Is your restroom just down the hall?"
"Yes, it is, just go on ahead, I'll go and enjoy some more of these muffins." She says.
Tyra just nods heading towards the small hallway. Instead of turning towards the restroom like she says she would she instead turns towards the front door. She quietly sneaks towards it, opening it slightly to see Virgil, her friend, standing by.
"She's in the living room, her son isn't home," Tyra whispers to Virgil.
"Gotcha, see you outside in ten." He just says pulling down his black mask, his entire outfit seemingly in a darker shade, the small bag in his hand dangling by one of his arms.
Tyra nods as she walks back into the sitting room, her intent of distracting Mrs. Threader her mission now as her friend begins to steal some valuable items. She sits back down on the comfy seats, taking another sip of her tea.
"These muffins are truly scrumptious." She says to her with a smile. "I can't stop eating them."
"Thank you, Mrs. Threader." She says, and they fall into a comfortable silence, one of them not knowing that there was an intruder in the house.
Although that secret doesn't seem to last long as a scream could be heard followed by barking as both the women in the sitting room stands up from their chair; tea spilling on the ornate rug. Mrs. Threader rushes towards the source of the scream.
Knowing exactly who that screaming was she rushes with the older woman towards the hallway, just barely missing the masked Virgil as he flies downstairs pushing past the woman, making her stumble and fall on the carpeted floor.
Tyra rushes to her aid holding her up, she looks worried, not for the woman but herself and for Virgil. She chews on her lip as she helps the woman up to her feet. She looks visibly distraught but she's seemingly fine.
"Are you okay?" Tyra says as she looks at her, feigning worry on her face.
"Yes, yes." She says holding onto her chest as she breathes a sigh of relief. "My goodness!"
"Are you sure, Mrs. Threader? Do you want me to get your son?" She says, although she wants the woman to say no and she breathes a sigh of relief when the woman shakes her head.
"No, no let's not bother him whilst he's working." She says. "I'll go check upstairs, will you be able to let yourself out?"
Tyra nods as she goes back to the sitting room, the cabinet she's been eyeing earlier goes into view, and then the paper in her pockets burns her side once again. She sighs as she approaches the cabinet looking for that crystalline dog, with a sigh she opens the door and swipes it, immediately putting it on the bottom of the muffin basket.
She rushes out the door, basket in hand, closing it behind her as she makes her way back to hers and Virgil's meeting spot. She rounds the corner to a panting Virgil, a look of anger on her face as he rushes towards her quickly.
"What the fuck, Tyra!?" He exclaims and she drags him deeper into the alleyway, she doesn't want to attract too much attention, not in her hunting grounds.
"I didn't know she had gotten a dog, okay!"
She puts her hand in her pocket, feeling that piece of paper once again, the same one that keeps percolating in her head, the same one that keeps distracting her. She sighs as she turns her back on Virgil, looking towards the streets of Eight.
"What has got you so unfocused lately?" He asks her turning her back to face him.
She stays silent, she knows exactly what, but she doesn't want to tell him. She crunches the paper in her pocket again, someone knows what they have been doing and that has somewhat shaken her to her core.
Someone knows that they have been stealing and selling items to the black market. She thought she was careful but not careful enough as she nervously fiddles with the paper, the blackmail, written for her.
"Did we get much?" She asks.
"Not really, but it's still early so maybe we can go to a few more stops before selling?"
"I promise I won't mess up next time."
She doesn't know who she said that to if it is herself or Virgil, but she always keeps her promises. No matter what.
Cal Acheron, District One Male, Eighteen
The wind dies down fast by the time midday approaches, as the sun envelops everyone in its warmth. Its rays shining brighter than they did this morning over the buildings. Cal Acheron has his eyes closed as he covers his face with an arm, blocking the rays as best he could, feeling the stinging of the heat as it prickles his skin, lying down on a bench in the courtyard of Beacon Academy.
Maybe it's the combination of this morning's arduous training and the heat of the sun but he finds himself drifting into a semi-conscious state, finding time to rest for a moment after this morning's training and drills. Thoughts of what was and what could have been invading his mind along with the sun's rays. His mind wandered to him.
Elian…
The name still ignites sparks in his heart, more than he is willing to admit if anyone had asked him. His soul still yearns for the one he first loved. He scrunches his eyes tighter as he tries to forget his name again, to try and compartmentalise the boy in the deepest darkest corner of his mind.
It's difficult to try and avoid him entirely. They go to the same academy, they train at the same time, and they see each other practically every day. He wants to forget him, yet, he is everywhere he looks, a reminder of what could have been.
He sighs, as he relaxes his eyes, his face disappearing from his mind. Lunchtime was never his favourite thing. He wants to keep busy, and with the Games approaching, he wants to be better, train more, and be prepared for what is going to come in the next few weeks. He doesn't know what to expect but he wants to anticipate it, lunchtime is just getting in the way of that.
This is the last year he can truly make a difference in himself because, after tomorrow, that's it. He'll be whisked away to a foreign place with little time to improve himself. He wants to fit in the most he could before time runs out.
Suddenly, his skin isn't dancing with the rays anymore, and as he opens his eyes he doesn't immediately code them from the brightness. A shadow is cast on him as his eyes focus on Tiffany. She's smirking as she looks at him straight down. He doesn't say anything to her as he sits up from the bench, he spots Tayte, Tiffany's twin brother, as they join him.
"Is Sulky trying to catch some last-minute rays?" Tiffany teases as she playfully nudges Cal's side, the same smirk on her face never left.
Cal remains quiet but smiles at her jabs taking the box of chopped up fruit that she offers him. He looks down at the myriad of fruits that Beacon offers, more than any of the other makeshift schools appearing in the district in the last few years.
"You didn't have to-"
"Save it Acheron," Tiffany says arms crossed as she steals a grape from the box. "We both know that you haven't eaten anything since breakfast this morning."
He just shakes his head as he takes a slice of melon and puts it in his mouth enjoying the sweetness. He gives them both an awkward smile. He appreciates them for taking care of him. The trio both find solace within one another, fixing each other's broken hearts.
They just sit in comfortable silence watching the lunchtime rush of the students of Beacon as they take a well-deserved rest from this morning's lessons and training. Cal can hear the laughing of the younger students and the chattering of the older ones, and in a twisted way, he thinks he's going to miss it.
"How are you feeling today?" Tayte asks beside him popping a grape in his mouth.
"Great." That is all he could say, although in truth he is a bit distracted, and he knows exactly why.
"That's good," Tiffany says on his other side, giving him a genuine smile this time.
They meld into comfortable silence once again, the twins knowing well that Cal is not much of a conversationalist. If the twins suspected that he was lying, or concealing his feelings, then they didn't say anything, which is a relief.
He had been thinking about him too much lately, which is strange. The powers that be seem to have decided that he needs to think about him all of the time this week. He knows he can't truly avoid him but in the last week, he has been seeing him more than he would normally have any other week.
Spinel, his current boyfriend, has been relentless with his greetings also, much to the twins' annoyance. His apologetic smile and his constant supportive nature of Cal are getting a bit too much. He always puts it down to guilt, but he knows it's not the boy's fault, and he never truly blames him for it.
"Heads up." Tiffany scoffs in the direction of Spinel making his way towards the trio. "You know I'm getting sick of the guy."
He spots him holding a box of something as they make eye contact. The boy smiles widely as soon as they do. He gives a tiny wave walking faster toward them as he stops in front of Cal. He holds the box out intent on giving it to Cal.
"I saw you at training this morning, you're doing so well!" He says with a smile and awe. "I made extra cookies for you all."
"How do we know you've not poisoned it so that Cal's chances are dashed for Victor?" Tiffany raises an eyebrow at the box of cookies.
"It's not! I swear!" The boy looks surprised and offended but he retains a cheery disposition.
Cal tunes the impending argument out. He can feel Tayte begin to act as the mediator between his sister and Spinel. Cal ignores them, his eyes looking past Spinel. He knows it's him, he always knows when he's here.
At the other end of the courtyard stands the very same boy that keeps appearing in his mind. He has his arms crossed, and he can't see it clearly but he knows he has that look on his face that used to drive him wild. He can feel him taunting him as if willing him to do something about it.
He could feel his breath hitch at the thought of him, standing up. Tiffany stops arguing with Spinel asking if he's okay. He doesn't say anything to the both of them instead just leaving the group. He could hear Tayte call after him only for him to be ignored.
He begins to walk towards the large gymnasium swallowing the lump developing in his throat. He enters the training hall hearing the sound of several people sparring, the clashing of blunt metal against blunt metal; the sounds of potential trainees being flipped over a mat, the thud echoing.
"Cal."
Yet over the noise in the hall that was all he could hear. His name escaped his lips like a rope ensnaring its prey. He ignores it as best he could be, pulling away from the voice as he makes it towards one of the training stations littered everywhere.
"Cal!" He feels hands on his shoulder, spinning around to face him. "Do you want to spar?"
Cal's face contorts to pained annoyance as he watches the boy quirk his eyebrow, the cocky grin in full view, the same one that he always falls for. He sighs as he tries to budge away from him walking backward never really prying his eyes away from him.
He watches him smirk. "For old time's sake?"
"You're not worth it." He says to him with a scoff.
Cal is about to leave, tired of this interaction when he is pulled closer. Their bodies colliding, their face closer than they have been for a long time. Their breaths mingle with each other, the smell of sweat and oranges. His scent. It invades his nostrils. He can feel his heart racing, his breath hitching, he can feel their lips…so close.
Cal pushes him away before anything else can happen before anything he would regret can happen. He pushes him again, the boy just laughing as he stumbles backward. He's taunting him, he knows this, but there's something about him that he just can't help but interact with.
Maybe it's because they spent the majority of their lives together, training at such a young age and then falling in love. The heartbreak is there, he knows it's never going to leave, and at this moment despite him putting up a strong front he could feel the tears as they prick at his eyes.
The boy in front of him continues to laugh.
If he wants to spar, wants to fight, he'll get one. Cal readies himself. His fists balling, knuckles turning white. He can see Cal getting ready and his laughter dies down, the smirk coming back as he too begins for this sparring match. Cal is ready to fight, and this time he's going to win.
He's going to finally put this to rest.
Dylan Manta, District Four Male, Eighteen
The waves lap by the sandy beaches as the sun rises high and mighty, the peak it can get before it must make its slow descent to let the moon glow. The heat rises within Four as everyone prepares themselves for a small break.
Docks fill with boats as they return from their early morning catch, supplying their district with fish as well as the entirety of Panem. Dylan Manta once-respected fishermen and those that regulate them, but not anymore. He scorns them and what they stood against, for he had lost his father because of the powers that be.
He sighs looking away from the window, the glistening ocean sight not enticing him to even have a dip anymore, he remembers a time when he would spend the majority of his days within the cool ocean waves, tasting the saltwater as he dives from a nearby cliff edge.
Dylan scoffs, his life isn't quite falling apart just yet. There's this calm about him since his father died. People expected him to be angrier, more scornful, but he remains calm despite all odds. He doesn't want to stay angry for long, or if he does he would rather keep it internal.
He is currently setting up the dining table for lunch, and placing plates and cutlery for himself and his siblings. He had spent the last hour cooking as he could hear his siblings play around the house. Should circumstances be different, he would be in Triton Academy right now, in the race to be the volunteer for this year's Games.
Now he scoffs at the thought of even going to the academy. He walks back to the kitchen to take the food he had made, just some fried fish with salad, his father's favourite. His focus has shifted from his bid to be a volunteer to his siblings, looking after them when their mother works.
"Lunchtime!" He calls out and three sets of legs rush towards the dining room of their modest home.
Finn, his brother, sits first, as he waits for his big brother to serve the food. Dylan helps the youngest, Ariel, up on her seat and as he is about to serve the food he could hear the second youngest, Kendra, sigh in exasperation.
"Fish? Again!?" She folds her arms and Dylan couldn't help but roll his eyes, it's always a battle when it comes to her. "I'm sick of eating fish."
"Now, now," Dylan says serving each of his siblings a helping of salad and fish, he pats her head as she goes to sit at the table staring down at the fish with pure hatred. "Remember that fish was dad's favourite, right?"
Her face seems to soften up from what he had said as she takes her fork and knife. "Yeah…"
"And you don't want to make him sad, right?" He adds as he sits down at the table, helping Ariel cut her fish before starting to cut his own. "You don't want to make him sad, isn't that right, Finn?"
He looks to his side, at Finn, as he starts to eat the fish. The younger boy just nods as he takes a bite out of the fish, and smiles at Kendra. She looks conflicted but soon begins to tuck in as she decides that maybe it is worth eating the food that he had made.
The group falls into a comfortable silence as they begin to eat. They talk to each other occasionally, about their plans for the rest of the day; when would their mother get back; what would the Hunger Games be like this year. He clenches his jaw at that one, but he couldn't help them talking about the Games.
His smile falters but soon plasters it back taking another bite just before there was a knocking at their door. He looks at the clock, he wasn't expecting any visitors at this time, and his siblings are too young to have anyone just come over without their parents asking first.
Dylan gets up walking towards their front door, opening it up to his best friend, Kai, smiling another devilish grin. Dylan just raises an eyebrow wondering what he is doing here, in fact, he should be in Triton right now, they can get pretty strict about students leaving the grounds during school hours.
"Dylan!" He says going in for a tight hug. "Have you started lunch yet? Am I late?"
"I have leftovers if you haven't had anything yet." He tells him pulling away from the hug.
Kai lets himself in making a beeline towards the dining room and sitting beside Finn. He takes a helping of the fish. Dylan makes it back to his seat as he finishes off his food. Kendra and Finn are asking Kai why he's here and he feigns offence.
"Well I was going to invite you guys to the beach, but now I think I'll just invite your brother." He says acting hurt and Dylan just rolls his eyes.
"Noo!" Finn and Kendra in unison as they look at Dylan almost pleadingly.
"We can go if you both finish your food." He says and the two quickly get to work finishing off the last of their meal, even little Ariel has finished her meal.
They tidy up the kitchen and the dining room, Kai helping out as best he could with the packing of things for the kids. Once everything is done they head towards their favourite beach spot. The sun is still high in the sky the heat beating down making their foreheads shine with sweat.
Dylan and Kai stagger behind the excited children, a smile on Dylan's face at watching them talk energetically about the beach. He looks past them at the beach, his eyes unable to discern between the sea and the sky, both clear waters and clear skies melding into one.
"I was going to ask…" He hears Kai say beside him.
"Ask what?" Dylan replies faster before Kai can say anything else, looking at him.
"Since leaving Triton…have you been, I don't know, happier?"
"What question is that?" Dylan laughs but Kai doesn't join him, a genuine look of concern on his face this time. "Of course I'm happy."
"After what happened to your father the last few years, I don't know, just you haven't been yourself." He mentions and Dylan looks at him eyes furrowed.
It's no secret that the reason that Dylan left was due to his father's death, but as far as he knows that's the only reason he's told them. He hasn't mentioned all the conspiracies surrounding the academy and the council members of Four.
"Kai." He looks at him with a smile on his face. "I am happy. Honest."
"You just don't seem like the domestic type." He says putting his hand up in defence. "That's all I'm saying."
"I happen to like taking care of my siblings," Dylan says with a playful pout. "I love them all enough, and I'm supporting my mom."
"Yeah, yeah, you're the son of the year, I get it." He says hands behind his head this time. "I know the academy is like a bad place or whatever, but you liked it there, you have to at least admit that to me."
The constant jeering and teasing, the bullying as he walks through the halls of the school. His successes were never being praised by his peers, only taking a jab at his social status rather than his achievements, yeah Dylan loved it there.
He was trying to put all that behind him and put his family first. He just smiles at Kai's reminiscing of their time together back in Triton. He loves him like a brother and he did enjoy it when Kai and he were an unbridled storm in the academy.
However, the time he spent in the academy was gruelling enough despite learning a lot of life skills. There was not enough to keep him there. The support network from the educators was minimal and he just did not like the vibe in general.
Dylan wouldn't admit it, but after he quit the academy a couple of years ago his life did fall into a bit of a mess. His mother had asked him why he had done it and his reasoning was just that he fell out of love with training, not because he thinks the academy conspired to kill his father along with the Four council members and perhaps the Capitol too.
He told her that the idea of victor just doesn't seem interesting to him anymore, which isn't entirely a lie. He just thinks that everything is a little bit too suspicious in Four and he wants to uncover the truth behind his father and his crew's disappearance.
"Dylan, hey, I'm sorry for bringing it up," Kai says looking apologetically now as the silence between them grew longer.
"It's fine." He waves it off as their feet touch the warm sand. "We had our laughs there."
Kai smiles as he pushes him playfully running away immediately as Dylan goes to chase after him, the kids following suit as they laugh under the warm sun. Kai runs towards the wetter sand as he catches up with the waves hitting their feet.
They are happy at this moment.
Ziva Matterson, District Five Female, Eighteen
Early commotions from this morning faded into the midday sun, using it as fuel to heat district Five. Much of the working population are taking their breaks now, enjoying a well deserved hour before powering through to the end of their work hours.
She doesn't work. She didn't need to because her father had raised her differently and made it so she can be prepared for when he eventually died. She's stuck in her little room reading books about military strategies and leaders of the so distant past, or she's running drills and tasks her father had left for her to do.
Ziva Matterson is not the type to disobey orders from her father. She understands authority, she understands who is in charge. However, she is clever, not cunning nor conniving. She finishes all of her tasks for this morning and ran all the drills she normally does and therefore had finished before noon.
Therefore she has the afternoon off. Her tasks are done and therefore she gets to rest for the rest of the day. She repeats that to herself a few more times, feeling a bit guilty that she's cheating the system that her father had put into place.
She wanders the house, sitting in the living room and then going into the kitchen to make herself a meal. She is alone. The empty house is quiet because her father is currently asleep, awaiting his night shift tonight.
Ziva doesn't mind the silence or being alone. She had never really had experience with friendship or anything of the sort so most of her days off are spent by herself. Her eyes scan the inside of the fridge, she might need to go out and shop for more supplies.
She bites the tip of her thumb. Does this constitute breaking the agreed rules if she leaves the house on a weekday? She doesn't know for sure, but she supposes it can work out if she had a good reason, and running out of food seems like a good reason.
She decides to bite the bullet going back to her room and getting dressed. She leaves not a moment too soon, into the warmth of the sun. She feels it prickling her skin, the warmth feeling nice like a soothing hug as she walks briskly to her destination.
It's busier than usual for a weekday lunch hour, although she doesn't know much about this time of the day as he has set days in which she goes out during the week. She looks at all the shops, most of them having lines of people waiting to get their food.
She steps to the side as a troop of Peacekeepers trudges down the road. She could hear the radio static describing someone, she couldn't quite hear the rest but she assumes that they were looking for a suspect. She stands watching them with pride and awe, and as soon as they disappear from her view she goes back to going to her destination.
Continuing on her way she stops at the little shop she frequents during the weekends. Her father had brought her here a long time ago and from then on she goes by herself, more so that she can live a somewhat normal life. She would argue that her life is not normal, but she doesn't really like arguing with her father, or ever for that matter.
She enters the shop, the ringing of the bell against the door echoes in the small shop, and the lady at the counter turns around, and she seems to brighten up when she sees Ziva standing by the door. She dusts off her hands on her apron as she leans against the counter.
"Ziva!" She exclaims. "Welcome! It's rare to see you during the week. What can I help you with?"
"I'm just here for a couple of things, Ms. Southpaw." She says politely approaching the counter. "Just some meat for tonight and the next."
"Anything planned?" She asks curiously.
Ziva had always loved interacting with Ingrid Southpaw, she can be a bit of a gossip at times but she doesn't mean any harm, she must get lonely manning the shop all day. She likes the company sometimes, and talking helps her become social, not that Ziva minded.
"My father cooks for him and me." She says feeling that guilt again for sneaking out crawl up her skin, maybe this was a bad idea.
"Well, your father must be a special man to look after such a wonderful daughter."
She just bows her head out of respect, she doesn't know what to say in actuality. Once she looks back up she can see Ingrid take some of the nicer cut meat and wrap it in paper before putting it inside a bag. She hands her the bag, Ziva paying for it.
Ingrid tells her the latest gossip surrounding the district whilst she puts the money in the register, how someone was robbed in broad daylight today somewhere on the outskirts of the district. She starts to worry for herself now as she closes the till.
"The nerve some of these people have lately," She huffs out loud. "Honestly."
Ziva stays a little while, listening to her. She hoped that they catch the suspect soon, whomever it sounds like someone that doesn't respect authority very much. If there's anything she dislikes, it's those disobedient individuals, those who stand against authority with no fear.
She takes her leave, saying her goodbyes to Ingrid, as she hears the familiar ringing of the bell. She makes her way back to her home before her father notices she's missing. She passes by the school she often watched on her days off, stopping briefly to watch all the children enjoy their lunchtime break.
There's this game she plays, where she makes up stories of people she watches, fake ones in her head. Like the three children playing by the gates. She imagines that they're best friends, all three of them, living quite close to each other and that their parents are also close friends.
In a way that makes her happy, feeling it tug against her lips. She shakes her head from the thought as she starts for her house again. She holds the paper bag close to her. It's not often she thinks of family, having only her father for eighteen years now is the only she has ever really known.
She may be raised a certain way but she understands that certain feelings and thoughts are harder to contain than others, she learns this from the books that her father would give her, or the ones she would buy with her allowance.
Her home is in sight. The feeling that she is in trouble builds up as she opens the door, heading straight for the kitchen to put away the supplies she had bought. She opens the fridge doors putting the meats inside, maybe she'll cook something for her father to show her appreciation, but as soon as she closes the door she is met with his gaze.
"Where have you been?" He asks her, voice deep and angry.
"I went out to get some food, sir." She says standing tall, like an obedient soldier. "We were running low on supply-"
"And who told you that you can leave the house today?" He asks voice booming now. "There is a schedule for a reason, Ziva, I would like you to stick to it."
"No one told me to leave the house, sir." She says continuing to stand tall. "I took the prerogative to shop for supplies."
"And what of your tasks that I had set you? Your assignments?"
"I finished them early, sir."
"Fine." He stays with a sigh, features softening up slightly.
She doesn't know if he's angry or relieved that she's here, but he doesn't say anything else. He dismisses her and she just nods her head before heading down to her room, past the hallway down the stairs into their secret bunker.
Her father had built it eighteen or so years ago to protect them from the impending doom that is approaching, and that seemed to only escalate after her mother died when she was born. She doesn't understand why, and she doesn't need to understand why as she's quite content where she is at this moment in time.
She heads for her room within the bunker, a small white room. With a bed in the corner and a desk on the other side, a tall white lamp illuminates the room bright enough to bounce off against the white. Beside her desk is a big bookshelf full of all the books she has ever read.
She goes back to reading one of her favourite books, one of those from long gone. She flicks through a few pages realising that she isn't reading any of the words on the page, instead her mind wandering to how her father had reacted.
He wasn't angry, and she wasn't punished. He was more worried and that makes her feel guiltier. She flicks the next page as she thinks about it some more. Her doing something bad situation that she thought about in the last hour doesn't seem to be worse. No matter how she puts it, her father not being angry at her is a step forward in their relationship.
But there's something in her that tells her that she'll never do it again because she doesn't want to upset him.
A/N - Boo! An update! I have Covid and I have always stated that I ever got a week's day off because of covid and I wasn't dying then I would update this, and here I am.
I don't think I'll say anything else, I might jinx myself in the process.
A big thank you tho to Remus98 for Cal; GavvyWavvy for Dylan; contemporarydancer2 for Tyra; and Paradigm of writing for Ziva
I hope they all live up to their forms, I am rusty and covid ridden.
((I dedicate this chapter to Seventeen, watching their comeback, it's HOT))
Cheers!
~Alec
