Diesel Malstrom, 18
District 6 Male.


"Diesel?"

A familiar, deep voice echoed through the mechanic shop. Wiping the grease off his hands onto the jumpsuit, the top half of which was tied around his waist, Diesel straightened up from the car he was working on turning to see who it was. Unsurprisingly, it was Mr. Thello, the man who ran the mechanic shop at which Diesel worked.

"Oh, uh hi," Diesel stuttered out, cracking a nervous smile at his boss. He hadn't asked about doing overtime - or more accurately, the time had escaped him. Diesel had been so focused on the job at hand that he didn't realize what time it was.

"What are you still doing here?" Thello asked, gesturing at the workspace around Diesel, scattered with tools of all sorts.

"Well, I was working and I didn't realize what time it was. Sorry," Diesel responded, casting his eyes downwards. He felt bad about it, as Diesel usually had the courtesy to at least ask if he could do overtime. But that was not the case this time. He just hoped he hadn't inconvenienced Thello or anything like that, as the last thing he wanted to do was upset his boss.

"There's no need to apologize, son, it's alright. You should get going home; it's getting late," Thello said, gesturing to the nearby window. Indeed, it was getting late, the sun beginning to cast long shadows in the late spring evening. Diesel didn't particularly want to go home; he never did. He didn't want to have to encounter the awkward tension between himself and his father, their wordless encounters only proving how little of a familial bond the two had.

"Okay, do you want me to clean up before I go?" Diesel asked, gesturing to the mess around him. He was never particularly neat, nor organized in a traditional sort of way, although his disorganization was a mess he could make sense of.

"No, no, don't worry about it. I'm here to do a little organizing anyways. Oh, and if you'd like, there's a few cookies my wife baked in the back room," Thello responded, gesturing at the door that led to the back room nearby.

"Er- thank you Mr. Thello," Diesel responded, nodding respectfully. Thello was everything Diesel wanted to be: well respected, charming, overall a very good person to have as your boss.

"No problem, son. And won't you quit sticking things in your face that shouldn't go there? I don't want to have to pry your face off one of the big magnets," Thello said with a warm smile, patting Diesel on the shoulder. He was referring to the face piercings and bits of metal Diesel adorned his face with, for his own amusement, or more correctly fascination. It didn't bother Diesel or hurt him, so he continued shoving new things into the skin of his face whenever he felt like it, despite Thello's chidings.

Diesel made his way to the nearby back room, pushing the door open with his elbow as not to get grease on the handle. He quickly washed his hands at the sink in the corner before beelining for the box of cookies that had been left out on the rickety wooden table. He grabbed a few, stuffing them into his mouth as he departed the mechanic shop. He'd been there for hours, and yet those hours never seemed to be enough, as Diesel always found himself aimlessly wandering around the District to avoid going home until he absolutely had to. He found his feet taking him down familiar streets, as he subconsciously made his way to one of his favourite haunts, the nearby graveyard. Diesel often found himself there, but he couldn't explain why he was so attracted to the place. He finished chewing on the last cookie as he passed through the familiar gates. Nobody ever questioned why he was here; the Peacekeepers didn't care enough to ask, and nobody else ever disturbed him so he continued to, for lack of a better word, loiter there.

As he passed by the rows upon rows of stone gravestones, Diesel couldn't help but wonder about the people buried there. One of them could be his mother and he would have no clue., Not that he cared much; all she ever did was beat him and bruise him while his father looked on doing nothing. Until one night, he stopped looking on and took action to protect his son. Diesel never knew or understood why his father protected him in that specific instance, but he was thankful nonetheless, as it was the last time he would ever see his mother. He shook slightly, pausing his walk as he pushed the thoughts out of his mind. He didn't want to waste energy thinking about such a person, someone who he would never see again, who was as good as dead to him.

And so, he would not spare her a thought.

Diesel continued his walk, passing a cluster of flowers that he didn't know the name of, their new, white petals catching his eye. He crouched down, nearly toppling over due to his gawky, long limbs as he ran a hand over the cluster of flowers, plucking a few off. Diesel figured he hadn't been to the hospital in long enough, and he couldn't go without something to give to his favourite patient, Edsel Jensen, a woman who'd been in a coma for as long as he'd been going by the hospital to visit. Diesel liked to sit by her bedside and talk to her about whatever came to his mind, and what came to his mind most often was the girl. The girl who he hadn't seen in years, whose curious smile had stuck in his mind: Verity Blanche. Most likely, he would never see her again, but he couldn't help but at least think about what he would say to her in the event he did.

Diesel straightened up, tucking the small white flowers into the pocket of his blue jumpsuit. He continued his trek, passing what appeared to be a grieving family all collected around a grave as he made his way back out of the graveyard. This image stuck in his mind as he made his way down the streets once again, the sun sending pink and gold streaks of light between the buildings as it continued to set. He wondered what it was like to truly be loved by a family, as it was nothing he had ever experienced before. In fact, Diesel didn't think anybody was capable of loving him.

But in the end, that was all he wanted. Someone to love him, and somebody to love. Was that truly too much to ask for?

At the very least, he had someone to talk to, even if she didn't speak back to him. The doors of the hospital slid open in front of him, and as he stepped through them he waved, making an awkward motion of his hand towards the receptionist who knew him by name and face by this point. She sent a warm smile his way in response, and Diesel cast his eyes towards the floor to hide the mild flush he could feel spreading across his face. He continued walking towards the nearby stairwell, quickly climbing the flights of familiar stairs, then carefully opening the door to the familiar floor so as to make sure he wasn't going to hit anybody on the other side.

Stepping into the long-term care wing of the hospital was nothing but familiar. The same harsh white lights, painted white walls, old cracked tile floor. Diesel beelined for the nurses' station, where the sign-in book was.

"Hey Diesel, how've you been? Here to see Edsel?" The nurse, an older lady by the name of Mrs. Suzuki, asked warmly.

"Good, and yes, ma'am, I am. Do you think she's missed me?" Diesel responded, picking up the pen and writing down all of his information in the boxes, as usual

"Hmm, well, I don't know. It's hard to tell. But the rest of her family has made themselves pretty scarce lately, so it's good for her to get someone in to talk to her."

"Thanks, Mrs. Suzuki," Diesel said, pulling one of the flowers from his pocket and handing it to the lady, leaving her blushing as he walked off down one of the side halls nearby. As he walked, he passed several patients and nurses, all of whom he recognized and all of whom recognized him. He greeted each of them, stopping to talk to some of the ones he knew better. It was just his routine, coming here somewhat often to talk to the patients. Some of them didn't have family that would come see them, had nobody but themselves and the white walls in which they lived, and so if Diesel could brighten their days with a short conversation he certainly did not mind. In fact, it made him quite happy, filling him with a sense of peace he never felt at home.

Finally, he arrived at a door with the nameplate "Edsel Jensen." He pushed the door open, carefully, quietly, as if he was going to startle the woman. But that would not be the case; she was still asleep, quiet and still as ever. Through the years, and from talking to the nurses and doctors who worked on the floor, he pieced together the lady's story. She had some sort of disease - what exactly he didn't know - which had sent her into this coma. Apparently, her family had money, enough money to keep her in this coma for years, but they had been coming to visit her less and less. Diesel had never met Edsel's family, but he didn't mind not knowing who they were. All that mattered to him was the company the woman gave; despite her silence Diesel was comforted by her. He grabbed the glass of old flowers he had brought to her the last time he'd been here, dumping the withered things out into the trash before filling the glass with fresh water and placing the new ones in, setting the glass down on the table once again as he took a seat in the large plush chair.

Diesel placed a hand over Edsel's, as he began to talk just as he did every time he came here: about what he'd done since the last time he'd seen her, about his job, about the girl whose smile he longed to see once again. The sun, which had nearly set, cast a warm, bright glow through the window behind him, framing the older woman's face like a halo. Edsel looked so alive, the warm glow tinting her pale skin with the colour it lacked, as if she could wake up at any minute. But Diesel knew this would not be so, and she would not wake up today. In fact, Edsel might never wake up.

The waterfall of words tumbling from Diesel's mouth began to slow, his sign he should get going soon. He'd said everything he had to say to Edsel, and so he would take his leave, never wanting to overstay his welcome regardless of what the nurses said. He retraced his steps, back through the hallways, to the nurse's station where he signed himself out once again with a wave to Mrs. Suzuki who was now wearing the flower he'd given her in her hair. Diesel descended the stairs, footsteps echoing loudly in the empty stairwell. He heard another set of footsteps, albeit quieter than his climbing towards him, so Diesel moved off to the side to let the figure pass him. He didn't get a good look at the girl's face, as she had a hood pulled over her head, but he couldn't help but wonder. Would he ever see that girl again? That girl who he talked to for hours in their garage as his father fixed her family's car? Would he ever get to thank her? Thank her for what, he didn't know, but Diesel wanted to thank her nonetheless.

Diesel didn't know. He could only hope.


Verity Blanche, 18.
District 6 Female.


Verity Blanche had always been fond of mysteries. She'd spent hours up in the study of their home, sorting through towers upon towers of files and books which told her tales of crime and mysteries, new puzzles for her to put together and solve. Sometimes she was successful, but other times the stories would stay just that - mysteries.

What she didn't expect was for a mystery to present itself in her real life. Sure, she read about those sorts of things, about things that happened in the District even, but that was where those stories usually stayed. Once she closed a book, everything written in it should stay as just that, a book, and the stories would remain trapped between the pages.

But the mysteries had followed her out of her stories, destined to take over her life - for better or for worse, without her having any say in the matter, without her having any control over what happened.

As Verity walked up the stairs of the hospital, she couldn't help but wonder about everything that had happened, her mind mulling over each of the questions percolating in her brain about her mother and how she ended up in such a place. She was so deep in thought that she only realized just in time that there was a figure descending the stairs above her. Verity moved off to the side of the stairwell, keeping her head down as she walked. The tall figure who approached her paid her no attention, passing quickly in a familiar smelling cloud of grease and oil, and something… sweeter that Verity couldn't put her finger on.

Verity pushed onwards, soon finding herself at the top of the stairs. She pushed the heavy door open, blinking her eyes a few times as she stepped into the harsh white lighting of the hospital floor, the pungent smell of antiseptic and unexplainable cleanliness growing significantly stronger. Verity glanced around, quickly spotting the nurses' station, which she promptly beelined for.

"Verity? Verity Blanche?" Mrs. Suzuki, the nurse who sat behind the large desk looked up, asking with a warm smile. There was a small white flower tucked behind her ear, accompanying her smile perfectly.

"Yes ma'am, it's me!" Verity replied with an equally large smile, picking up the pen that accompanied the sign-in book.

"Are you here to see Edsel?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Oh, yes, it's good to see you!" Mrs. Suzuki beamed warmly.

"I'll see you later, Mrs. Suzuki! Oh, and I like the flower in your hair. It's pretty cool," Verity said with a small wave before heading off down the nearby hallway towards her mother's room. Verity had never been particularly fond of her mother, especially not after how her childhood went, but she still felt a sense of duty to come and visit Edsel. After all, she was always willing to listen to Verity's endless stream of questions and theories; anything the girl had to say, Edsel would listen to.

It was better than nobody in the end.

Verity quickly reached her mother's door, pushing it open gently and quietly, attempting to not wake her mother up even though she knew there was no way Edsel would. There lay Edsel Jensen, dark hair falling around her shoulders and framing her face like a dark halo, the sun cutting through the half-open blinds and falling in golden streaks across her bed, turning her pale skin a warm honey colour.

"Hi Mom," Verity mumbled quietly under her breath as she made her way to the large plush armchair next to the bed. Curiously, on the table next to the bed was a small glass filled with flowers. This was not the first time flowers had randomly appeared in her mother's room; Verity never knew where they came from or who was putting them there, but she quite liked them.

"How've ya been? Anything... interesting going on?"

There was no response. There was never any response.

Verity took a seat in the chair, sinking into it, letting it envelop her in its comfort. It was warm, as if somebody had just been sitting there not long before, almost like being wrapped in a nice hug from a friend you haven't seen in years. She turned her attention back to her mother, looking over her delicate face as she thought.

There was a reason Edsel was here, in a coma. And that reason was Verity - or at least, the girl thought as much. She couldn't help but feel that her inquiring into her father's possibly shady business at the local factories was connected to her mother "falling" off of their balcony late the same night. Verity didn't know how she knew, but she remembered returning home that night, not being able to shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong.

And all those years later, Verity still faced the consequences. There were only ever questions, and the answers were within her reach, yet never quite attainable.

Verity sat for a little while longer, until the golden light that crossed her mother's face began to fade, revealing how truly pale and lifeless she looked. The only evidence she was still alive was the shallow movement of her chest, rising and falling rhythmically.

"Well, I'll catch you later Mom. I have to go," Verity announced, as if Edsel would notice her leaving. Even if she didn't notice, it didn't feel right to depart without some sort of parting words. As she stood to leave, Verity picked one of the flowers from the glass, sliding it into the breast pocket of her jacket, the petals barely peeking out the top. Not bothering to look back, Verity opened the door and stepped out of the room. She backtracked to the nurses' station where she signed back out, then went back down the stairs and out the front door. Taking a deep breath, Verity let the fresh, cool air wash over her, the smell of antiseptic and cleanliness quickly replaced with the familiar scent of grease and grit that emanated from all parts of District Six, no matter where you were.

"Hey! Verity!" A familiar deep, booming voice rang out, followed by an arm wrapping around her shoulders. She looked up to the figure next to her, immediately recognizing her best friend, Gideon Takahashi.

"The hell are you doing here?" Verity replied with a grin, wrapping her arm around his midsection and leaning into his side, slotting in like a puzzle piece as she rested her head against his chest. He was warm, familiar, the faint scent of smoke and wet dog emanating off of his large jacket.

"Well, I'm here to get you of course! I'd be a fool to let you go alone!" Gideon boomed, grinning widely. He was certainly a lot, but Verity didn't mind him one bit; they got along like two peas in a pod, and it wasn't often Verity felt like that about anybody. Before she met Gideon, it'd been years since she'd met somebody of the like. It hadn't been since that strange boy whose name she knew but couldn't remember (his name sat just on the tip of her tongue, so close and yet so far) had entered her life and left just as quickly. He was nothing but a ship passing hers in the night, the two only barely crossing paths for a moment. But one meeting was more than memorable enough.

"You're so kind! You didn't need to come all the way out here just to take me home," Verity replied, raising an eyebrow as they began walking down the sidewalk towards the streetcar stop nearby. She and Gideon had met in their science class a few years prior, and they'd just clicked. Gideon's family ran a small menagerie, taking care of all sorts of animals, which Verity was endlessly fascinated by. They'd been stuck together at the hip ever since, one always going where the other did. Verity made sure to spend as much time with Gideon and his animals as she could, as she always wanted to learn more about them. Animals were not exactly a common thing in the concrete jungle of District Six, after all, and so any chance she got to see them, she took.

"Well, I'm not just here to take you home, I come with great news! The new puppies have arrived!" Gideon exclaimed, his grin growing wider with excitement.

"Oh shit, really? How many? What do they look like? How many boys- how many girls? Did I win the bet? Can I come and see them tonight?" Verity badgered, sending a barrage of questions at Gideon. At this point he was used to her endless questions, willing to answer each that he had the answers for with a great deal of patience and wisdom.

"If it would please you to come see them, then you are free to! You should know you're always welcome at the Takahashi household!" Gideon bellowed, his voice louder than necessary, but it wasn't a bother to Verity. It was just how Gideon was.

"I'm coming over tonight then! I want to see the puppies and also win that bet," Verity bounced enthusiastically.

Gideon reached over and ruffled her hair as the pair stood awhile longer, watching as the last of the gleaming light left the sky. It was quickly replaced with the artificial light of the street lamps flickering on above their heads. The streetcar creaked loudly, signalling its arrival before it rolled around the corner into their view. As it lurched to a stop in front of them, the two released each other, stepping onto the stairs into the dimly lit street was almost entirely empty, save for a pair of kids who looked about their age. Verity didn't recognize them, but they paid no attention to Gideon and Verity as they swiped their streetcar passes.

"Where do you want to sit?" Verity asked, her voice low, as this felt like the kind of place where one needed to be quieter.

"Anywhere suffices for me! As long as I get the window seat," Gideon replied, making an attempt to whisper but failing quite miserably. They shuffled down the center aisle, sliding into two seats towards the back, Gideon next to the window as he requested.

"Did you end up talking to Kaz tonight?" Verity inquired as the streetcar began moving along again.

"Kaz? Are you really going to ask me about him here?" Gideon gasped, feigning offence dramatically.

"Of course I am! I want to hear how it went!" Verity replied, nudging Gideon in the side. Her parents had instilled in her that asking so many questions wasn't ladylike, but Verity couldn't give less of a shit about what was ladylike or not. They just wanted her to play the part of a perfect girl, one who could marry to form more connections for their family. After all, her sister Annora was to take over their family business, so there wasn't much left for Verity to do, other than become a porcelain shell. She was destined to be a lady, one who made small talk and stood prettily at her husband's side, not to ask questions and certainly not to investigate crimes.

"I don't want to talk about it…" Gideon replied, turning away to look out the window. Verity could see the slightest hint of a blush crossing his face, tinging his ears a faint pinkish colour.

"Are you blushing? You totally like him, I know it!" Verity squealed loudly, laughing loudly as she poked Gideon in the sides

"I, Gideon Takahashi, am not BLUSHING nor do I 'like' him! That is ridiculous!" Gideon roared, covering his face with the collar of his jacket. Verity broke out into laughter, snorting loudly as she struggled to draw breath in, Gideon was laughing too, his trademark roaring cackle filling Verity's ears. It was rough around the edges, loud and imperfect, yet Verity would not trade it for the world. She eventually caught her breath, face flushed and warm. Sure, her lungs were aching, but she was happy - happier than she'd been in many years.

"What about you and Charlotte? You talked to her recently?" Gideon said breathlessly, struggling to regain his composure. He wrapped an arm around Verity's shoulder, shaking her a few times like a salt shaker.

"No, not really," Verity mumbled, "You know Father wouldn't like me dating a girl."

"Well he's ridiculous!"

"I know he is, but still I have to listen to him some of the time, I do live under his roof and all," Verity replied, reaching up and ruffling Gideon's hair.

"That's bullshit, you should be able to just... live your own life you know?"

"Yeah I know, it's stupid. There's nothing I can do but…" Verity trailed off, looking out the window as they passed a familiar building. It was the apartment building where Charlotte lived. Memories of cigarette smoke, dim lighting, and the sound of Charlotte's raspy singing voice flooded Verity's senses. She certainly wished things were different; Verity wished she was free to love whoever she pleased without consequences. She'd never been particularly bothered about the whole thing - boys or girls were perfectly fine with her - but Charlotte was special. They'd ended things amicably enough, but Verity missed her and her music a great deal.

Maybe in another world, things could be different. Maybe there was another Verity in another universe who figured out what her father was really doing, whose mother wasn't half-dead in the hospital, who'd found that strange boy she'd known years ago, who could find the answers she so desperately craved.

But for this Verity, here and now, she had Gideon and she had the mysteries that lived in her head, she had the memories of that strange boy from all those years ago.

And maybe that could be enough. It had to be.


Hiii what's up, I don't usually write A/N's but here I am. Look at that we're uh halfway through intros! Pretty sexy. Anyways next week will not be District 7, it's gonna be a little interlude! Just here to give y'all a heads up.

Anyways, pith out this bitch, see y'all next week.

-pheebs