It took a while, but we're in District 9! Hope this was worth the wait, and if not then I hope the next chapter comes a bit quicker

This character was sent by Wetstar! I hope I did right by her!

09 - The Sound of Silence

By now Bel knows she should be getting ready for the Reaping. This year especially, given how everything's been sped up to accommodate the Quell. But she just wants a little more time to frolic and roll around through the fields, to feel the ground beneath her toes. It's a lovely sensation, the way the grass tickles at her skin. Bel wishes it could never end.

This is what she does most days of the week. Her family has a large farming property, all of it covered in wheat fields and farming machinery, and it's fairly easy for anyone to get lost as they roll through the tall crops. Well, easy for Bel at least. The amount of trees on the outskirts of the property and the pretty flowers that grow in clusters beside them just adds to the allure for her, makes her want to spend time all the more eagerly outside. When Bel's not at school or sweeping out silos, it's safe to assume she's out in the elements and admiring flowers she's yet to press.

When she stands up and peeks above the wheat to see how far she's wandered, Bel can't help noticing the grass stains on her hands and over her skirt, ruining the pink fabric and leaving a gross green smear over her front. Bel gasps and clasps her hands over her mouth. Her mother had wanted her to wear it to the Reaping today, and now it's ruined.

Bel shrugs. It's not like this is her only nice skirt. But the lecture when she gets home—be it before or after the Reaping—will certainly wear her out before dinner.

There's no point in worrying over it now, she thinks with a smile. Bel really wasn't going to go as far as the trees beyond their property, but now that she doesn't have to keep her clothes clean she may as well. Pansy will get over it eventually, though Bel will admit she isn't looking forward to the talk they'll have about how important it is to keep her good clothes clean.

With a grin on her face, she rolls up the sleeves of her shirt and lifts the hem of her skirt to her knees.

Running through the wheat field always makes her feel like a daring adventurer. The dirt and mud between her toes and the bushy ends of each stalk batting against her face—it's like she's running through a dream, surrounded by gold threads reaching for the sky. Her feet always leave the lightest of indents against the soft earth, her long curls always picking up bits and pieces of wheat and grains as she breezes past.

She loves home, she thinks as she nears the edge of the wheat field. The trees surrounding come into view, the flowers just barely visible through the shifting fields. Bel may not be allowed to venture far on her own, or go many places until she's older, but what she has now is beautiful. Going hungry some nights—most nights, really—doesn't concern her as much as it should at times; all it takes is a nice view and a fresh breeze against her face, and all her worries peel away.

As soon as Bel bursts through the field and out onto the hard, grassy earth lining their property, she makes a beeline for the nearest tree with low-hanging branches. As much as she hates the pain of tripping, falling onto her face, she loves climbing the trees near their property. She jumps up and clings to the lowest branch, struggling to pull herself up and fling her torso over. Bel grunts as she feels the bark dig in through her shirt, but she knows this is the only hard part. From here, climbing higher gets easier.

Once she swings one leg over, she stops for a breath. Pento advised against climbing so often with how little strength she has during the week, their underfed diets apparently dangerous for them to attempt anything too strenuous. Bel knows she should be more careful, but she can't help it. This is her element, where she feels at home—and she knows Pento can relate somewhat.

As soon as the dull ache in her hands fades, Bel begins to push herself up again. The leaves brush against her face and hands as she ascends. One level at a time, the view of the entire wheat field enters her sight. Bel smiles down at the property, at the grains swishing and swaying like waves in water. She wiggles carefully onto the branch above her and makes sure her skirt doesn't get caught on any twigs. At last, she can admire her home from afar in peace.

The air smells beautiful, she thinks as she breathes in deeply. The sweet scent of the trees, the earthy smell of the wheat fields. She'll never grow tired of it, no matter how long she lives here. Bel leans against the trunk of the tree and swings her legs about, kicking at her skirt and smiling softly to herself. This feels so peaceful, she might just be able to forget for awhile that she has to attend a Reaping.

The smooth waves of the wheat part somewhat, a telltale sign of someone walking through. Bel squints down at the field, leaning forward somewhat to see who it could be. The wheat is tall, but even the top of someone's head should be easy enough to see from this height. The field is at its highest in the middle, but it's towards the edge of the property that some of them struggle to grow. It's through the transition of tall stalks to budding grains that she sees just who's approaching, and Bel can't help the wide grin that breaks out on her face at the sight of the duo.

Pento had left earlier this morning to run some errands, and she'd assumed he wouldn't be back until later. But her brother, equally excited to see her once their gazes meet, has proven her otherwise. Behind him is his best friend, Gimmick. Bel can't stop the squeak that tears out of her throat, the branch swaying as she throws her arms up in the air to wave to him.

Gimmick cups his hands around his mouth and shouts a greeting to her. There's a big smile on his face, bright and warm, and it's a sight like this that reminds Bel just why she's so attached to the duo. Pento never acts like he doesn't want to spend time with her, always ecstatic to share how his day is and hunt for flowers with her; Gimmick does his best to learn the things that Bel and Pento have grown up with, and his sense of humour is everything Bel loves in a friend.

She starts to stand up, reading to climb down the branch and meet them. Pento's just emerging entirely from the wheat, Gimmick behind him, when he stops completely. Bel doesn't notice at first, her gaze trained on her feet, but when she glances over at them again to see where they're heading alarm bells go off in her head.

Pento's halted Gimmick in his tracks, fear written all over his face as he watches the area beyond Bel's tree. His gaze is flitting about almost in a panic before it finally rests back on Bel. She's never seen him look so scared. He raises his hands with his index fingers pointed upwards, and then wipes them downwards and adjusts his fingers to touch his thumbs.

Bel's breath hitches in her throat. Why does she need to be quiet? Is there something she didn't see when she first came to the tree? Her legs start to shake, suddenly all too aware of just how skinny and frail she is compared to whatever's on the floor of the woods. She clings to the tree like it's a lifeline and slowly brings a hand over her mouth, clamping it tightly over the top as she glances left and right for a sign of danger.

Gimmick, heroic as he is, immediately jumps into action. She watches with a stunned expression as he dives into the woods and barrells past Bel's tree. She loses track of him quickly, and Pento is quick to run over to her as the taller boy vanishes entirely from their sights. He holds his hands up, signalling for her to jump down into his arms, and Bel wastes no time complying. Her skirt catches on the branch as she carefully drops down to him—a long, torn apart piece is left behind for the tree to keep.

Hands are on her face, checking her to see if she's okay. Bel tries to shoo away Pento's concerned prodding, waving about her index finger as she stares up at him questioningly. Pento glances warily between her and the direction Gimmick had sprinted off in. She's never seen him look so horrified, even as he hooks his finger in front of his chin and then presses his hand to his chest.

Before Bel can even question who has entered the property, Pento jumps in surprise. He shoves Bel behind him, leaving her with very little to go by as her sight is covered by the back of his faded shirt. She tries to peek under his arm, to see what's happening, but only manages to catch sight of Gimmick rolling on the ground in what looks to be agony as someone else emerges from the bushes. Pento charges forward, fists raised as he runs for Gimmick. The stranger doesn't even waste any time dealing with Pento, either.

She can only watch as a foot rises towards Pento's head. He snaps down to the ground, crumpling up like a dried leaf, as Gimmick drags himself toward Pento. Bel is left face-to-face with the stranger, her legs shaking furiously and her breaths getting caught in her throat.

The stranger can't be much older than her—Gimmick and Pento's age, she thinks. Definitely not an adult, but the way she stalks over to Bel like some kind of predator makes her think of a Peacekeeper's march during a patrol. The way her light brown eyes focus on Bel, the expression on her face—it's not gleeful, but it's certainly not angry either. It's like the girl is on autopilot, acting on instinct as she advances on Bel. Bel can't help staring at the scars littering her olive skin, at the amount of mishaps that must have caused them.

Just as Pento's back on his feet, the stranger turns on her heel and snatches at him by the collar of his shirt. For a second Bel thinks she's going to say something to him, her head close to Pento's like she wants to whisper a secret—but then her forehead slams hard onto his own, knocking the poor boy out cold.

Bel can feel the screech come out of his throat as she watches her brother fall to the ground limply. Gimmick is now crawling to Pento, swiping at the stranger in an attempt to get her away from Pento. The stranger complies almost immediately, her attention drawn back to Bel as she begins to stalk after her again. Bel wants to cry as she looks from Pento to the stranger. She's scared of what the stranger has in mind for her, and just why she'd attack the three of them so suddenly. They're all still on the Belfast property—what does the stranger need to be violent for?

A strong hand swipes out at Bel, catching her by the jaw. The stranger begins to lift her, fingers pushing at her teeth until Bel has no choice but to open her mouth wide. Her toes scuff against the ground as tears start to leak from the corners of her eyes—

And then the stranger sets her down roughly. Looks down at her almost in a friendly way.

"Sorry about that." Bel watches her mouth, but her fear stops her from actually processing the words entirely. "Thought your friends were hiding an Avox from me. Honest mistake."

Breathing is difficult, but manageable. Bel's entire body is shaking as the girl pats her on the shoulder and waves to Gimmick. She no longer looks like a predator; it's like in the span of seconds, her entire personality changed into one Bel's so familiar with in Gimmick. Warm, joking, expressive.

The girl makes quick work of leaving the scene. She practically leaps over Gimmick's crouching form above Pento, disappearing into the bushes just as quickly as she had emerged from them. Bel watches in shock and awe as the leaves still and Gimmick slowly begins to rise to his feet. The encounter had barely lasted more than two, maybe three minutes, but Bel feels like she's just been put through hours of unrelenting horror. Her knees give out, leaving her to sit on the soft earth as she watches Gimmick lift Pento to his feet with ease.

Pansy Belfast is the most anxious Bel's ever seen her when Gimmick helps her and Pento home. While Trond is busy interrogating Gimmick and waits for his son to come to, Bel is dragged to the bathroom as all of the colour drains from Pansy's face. She supposes the help is appreciated as Pansy strips her down and helps her into the tub—already filled with warm water, almost as though Pansy knew Bel would ruin her clothes before the Reaping—but the way Pansy clings to her feels almost desperate.

She's never seen her mother go on a rant before, and even now she doesn't see all of it as Pansy scrubs at Bel's hair. Locks will fall on her face or soap will get in her eyes, leaving Bel with only a string of words that only barely pieces things together. "I begged—Why must she—Isaiah knows how bad—"

By the time Bel's being helped out of the tub, Pansy's rant is over. She inspects Bel's legs and arms for injuries, relief ever so slowly making it back into her expression before finally she brings her frail daughter into a tight hug. The feeling of Pansy's heartbeat is reassuring. Bel closes her eyes for just a moment and focuses on it, until finally she's led out of the bathroom and toward her and her brother's room.

As Bel puts on a new set of clothes under Pansy's careful watch, Pansy inspects the damage on the skirt with her brows knitted together. Bel can't imagine how upset Pansy must be, seeing one of Bel's few good skirts stained and torn. At least it was just Bel's skirt that was destroyed, with no major harm comign to Bel herself.

She can see her mother's shoulders rise with a sigh. Bel's never been the best with reading her parents—they're good at hiding things, often to the point of Bel being complacent with not being as involved with other kids her age—but she knows when she can try to lighten the mood for both of them. Pansy and Bel have had scares of their own today, evidence left behind by the ruined skirt. Maybe Bel can bring their attention to the new one she wears.

She swishes the brown skirt back and forth, smiling down at it. It goes nicely with the white blouse she has on, and the little pink birds on the blouse are her favourite thing about it all. When she catches Pansy's eye during her display, Bel grins at her. She brings her index and middle fingers to her eye, and then points toward Pansy; immediately after, she strokes along her jaw with her thumb and index finger.

Pansy smiles back at her. She sets the skirt down on the desk and looks to her daughter almost fondly. Pansy raises her hand to her face, middle and ring fingers tucked against her palm, and taps her nose once with her index finger; once she tucks away the index finger and thrusts the remaining digits in Bel's direction, all tension in the air feels as though it'll melt away.

Pansy dries Bel's hair and fixes it up, making sure the curls don't get tangled. Her mother's fingers carding through her hair feels nice, like the days where Bel would fall asleep on her lap while Pansy read the newspaper. It's safe. It's reassuring.

But it also leaves Bel to her thoughts. Despite how hard she'd tried to get both her and Pansy's minds off of the attack, Bel's just keeps wandering back to that moment. The split second between the girl's face changing, to the apology about mistaking Bel for an Avox. She doesn't know a whole lot about them—she's never really met one, either—but she can't imagine why people would hate them so much.

She reaches over her shoulder for Pansy's hand. She brushes the woman's wrist softly, and then she's turning in her seat to face her. All she can hope for is a straight answer. After all, she doesn't even know what makes an Avox.

When Bel asks this, Pansy's hands shake too much for her to sign back. Bel watches her lips attentively, hanging on every word like they're vital instructions. "Avoxes… They're not good people, Oryza."

Bel tilts her head to the side. She waits patiently for Pansy to continue. "They did bad things in the Capitol," Pansy clarifies. "Very bad things. They get punished by having their… ability to talk taken away."

What kind of bad things?

Pansy hesitates. "Things I don't want you knowing about just yet, dear."

Are they deaf like me?

"No. No, they're just mute." Pansy's shoulders rise and fall into a sigh. "They sign like you do, though."

What's wrong with their mouths?

Her mother stares at her in horror. "What do you mean?"

The girl who attacked us stopped when she saw inside my mouth.

Another sigh. Heavier, from the looks of it. Bel can't help reaching for her mother's hand and giving it a light squeeze.

"The Capitol… Well, they don't have tongues anymore. That's what makes them Avoxes." Pansy's lip quivers. "The girl thought you were an Avox, dear. That's probably why she attacked you and your brother."

Bel stares at her in disbelief. She's never done anything bad, has she? Sure, maybe she was late to work a few times and even got in trouble because someone forgot she couldn't hear them, but that can't be bad enough to be mistaken for an Avox. Could it?

Bel doesn't want to lose her tongue if being late for work more than a few times is considered bad to the Capitol. It'd be so painful!

Pansy tries to smile at her, giving Bel's hand a squeeze before she stands up from her seat. As Bel looks up at her, Pansy says to her, "I think I heard someone at the door. Why don't you check on Pento while I look?"

She isn't really given much time to respond. Pansy practically flees the room, leaving Bel to her own thoughts and the decision to check on Pento or not. Bel just sits on the chair Pansy had occupied, feeling lost now that she has this information. If Bel could be mistaken for an Avox so easily, why keep something like that from her? Is this why some people in town disrespect her whenever she tries to strike up conversation? Is this why Bel's been called names and Gimmick's been forced to step in for her sake?

Bel chews her lip as she glances at the door. Maybe she should save the concerns and questions for later. As much as she knows that Pansy's statement was an attempt at a getaway, Pento really does need to be checked on. Gimmick, too. Bel had only been grabbed roughly and dropped in the same manner—she can't imagine how much pain the two boys must be in now.

She sneaks down the hall and peeks into her parents' room. Laying on the bed, a wet cloth on his forehead, is Pento, while sitting beside him like a concerned mother is Gimmick. Bel can't help watching them for a few seconds, feeling almost guilty for the damage they'd received. If Bel hadn't been there, would that girl have attacked? Would Pento be unconscious and Gimmick with his hands bandaged up?

She watches as Gimmick reaches out a hand to Pento, almost hesitant as it hovers over her brother's. Pento doesn't stir, but at least he looks to be breathing fine. Just as Gimmick is about to take Pento's hand, he freezes and whips his head around to the door. Bel can feel her face heat up as they make eye contact. She must have stepped on a creaky part of the floor—Pento always points out how easy it is to hear her coming because of them.

Gimmick grins weakly at her. Bel smiles back. "You're holding up okay?" he asks.

Bel nods. She points to his hands simply, the question obvious even to the most clueless of people. Gimmick glances down at the dirty wraps and quickly hides his hands behind his back. His grin falls as he replies, "Your dad thinks I sprained them or something. They hurt when I move the fingers, so I can't really…"

She steps further into the room. It's been a while since Bel's actually spoken out loud, but she likes to think it comes out coherent enough when she says to him, "That's fine."

Gimmick looks to her with surprise. "You don't have to—"

"I don't mind."

Now Gimmick's looking at her like he's the guilty one. No doubt Pento's drilled it into Gimmick's head by now just how much Bel feels uncomfortable talking out loud. But she finds it unfair that Gimmick can't sign back at her—he always managed to keep up with the conversation if he could gesture just as she does, relying on the movements to remind him rather than his own memory.

She sits on the edge of her parents' bed, right by Pento's legs, and smiles reassuringly at him. "Thanks for the help," she adds.

His shoulders rise and fall—but it's not a sigh. The bitter grin on his face, the reluctance to look in her eye. A scoff? "Didn't help much. She was stronger than she looked."

"It was brave."

He smiles at her then, this time without any disdain for himself or doubt. "Thanks, Bel."

Her heart flutters ever so slightly. Gimmick always has a nice smile, and she won't deny that she falls back into her crushes on him so easily when he looks at her like that. But Bel doesn't want to take away the friendship they have right now, especially when she toes the line between platonic and romantic affections so frequently. She's seen hints that Gimmick may have eyes for someone else, too—she doesn't want to step on his toes and make the both of them feel guilty for her puppy crushes. For now, she just wants everyone to be happy.

She beams back at him just as Pento stirs from his sleep, glancing between his sister and friend groggily. Pento makes quick work of changing the subject, joking about Bel and Gimmick gossiping about him while he was out cold. All concerns about the girl simply vanish. Right now it's simply three friends spending time together before a Reaping, sharing laughs and smiles.

The man keeps covering his mouth when he speaks to her. Bel can't help the worried shake of her hands as he continues to give her expectant looks, becoming increasingly annoyed with each failure to respond. Someone behind her gives her a shove. Bel lets out a small whimper as she continues to stare at the man.

Finally, he removes his mouth and says, "What are you, deaf? Oryza Belfast."

She inhales shakily. Bel raises her right fist and nods it twice in the man's direction. Almost immediately he flushes red, though she can't quite tell if it's embarrassment or anger. Now that she knows people mistake her for an Avox, it's hard to see if they realise she actually is deaf or not.

He directs her to the fifteens section. The parting look on his face is not warm by any stretch, and the kids who turn to look back at her as they settle in their own lines give her the same expression. It feels almost… isolating. Bel never knew anyone very well to begin with, but the way they treat her feels antagonising and wrong. She's being treated like an outsider in her own home.

She doesn't see the foot poke out from the fourteens section straight away. When she does, though, she's already tripping over it and falling face-first into the dirt. Her hands scrape against a few stones painfully, the skin tearing and burning within seconds; Bel isn't sure if she makes any sounds upon falling, too focused on the pain in her knees, hands and chin.

When she looks over her shoulder at the teen who'd tripped her, all she sees is a crowd of proud grins and approving pats on the shoulder. The isolated feeling gets worse and worse, the heat of tears in her eyes undeniable now. Bel sniffs and weakly pushes herself back to her feet—someone knocks into her from behind, albeit gently enough that she doesn't fall again—before finishing the trek to the fifteens section.

Everyone stays a good half foot away from her when she enters her line. No one even looks at her or touches her. By this point the tears won't stay put, and her chin stings each time they pool under her jaw. While they all wait for the escort to come onstage, Bel inspects her hands and delicately removes any stones left embedded in her palms.

By the time she finishes, the escort is already onstage. She doesn't recognise the woman, who stands proudly onstage in her skin-tight dress. Bel can only watch in awe, taking in her appearance with envy. The woman is so plump and beautiful, her dark skin clear and free of any blemishes as the curve of her hips attracts even the attention of the mayor. A healthy, round face and large, soft arms. Bel's always known that Capitolites are beautiful, but she's never seen one she wishes could be her so, so much. To never starve, to be the centre of desire.

The escort is absolutely gorgeous. And Bel feels almost relieved that she represents District 9's Tributes this year.

All she gets from the escort is the name Madrona before her brightly painted lips disappear behind the microphone. Bel wipes at her face with the backs of her hands. There's no point in watching the stage like a hawk if she can't see what Madrona is saying. So instead she looks around for Pento and Gimmick, scanning the backs of heads in the seventeens section for them.

When she spots Pento's wild, curly hair, she immediately knows the person he's leaning on is Gimmick. From behind it looks like Pento is struggling to stand on his own—which wouldn't be surprising, since Trond had said that Pento's balance had taken a blow before they'd left. Gimmick looks to have his arm securely around Pento's waist, holding him steady as Pento clings to his shoulder.

Bel smiles. She's glad that Gimmick is helping Pento remain present for the Reaping. Pansy had been so worried about a supposed punishment if Pento couldn't go today; and while Bel still can't quite figure out what that punishment would be, she's glad Pento won't have to go through it anyway.

The girls around her start clapping their hands. Bel immediately claps her own once, winces, before smacking at air as she waits for everyone else's movements to cease. Madrona must have introduced the mentor, or deferred to the mayor for the Treaty of Treason. Once the other girls stop moving, so does Bel. She doesn't look up to the stage, though; instead she focuses on blowing gently at her palms, waiting for the pain to subside.

She hates pain. It always makes her feel sad, helpless. Even useless at times. She hates it the most when her hands get hurt, though—unlike Gimmick, who's comfortable with speaking if he can't sign, Bel feels wrong when she has to use her voice to make a full sentence. She can manage a single word, maybe, but never an entire sentence.

More movement, this time shuffling. She still doesn't bother to look up, instead combing her fingers through her hair in the hopes that any rocks didn't get caught in it. As she gets closer and closer to the back of her head, she feels something brush against her neck lightly. Bel shivers, surprised, and makes delicate work of untangling the item from her hair.

A leaf. A dried, orange leaf with the stem still miraculously attached. Bel gawks at it. How long has it been tangled there? It looks like it came from one of the trees back home, but she can't imagine why Pento and Gimmick wouldn't tell her about it. She twirls it with her fingers, smiling just a little. Maybe it'll give her something to focus on instead of the pain in her hands, she thinks.

The girls shift around more, this time distancing themselves from her further. Bel looks up in surprise, wondering what she may have done to anger them. It couldn't be the leaf, could it? Those are everywhere on the streets.

When the Peacekeeper breaks through the line, though, Bel's stomach drops along with her smile.

The one that grabs her just hauls her over his shoulder. She starts to cry again, sobbing this time as she throws her hands against his back in an attempt to be let down. The girls all watch her with smirks, almost happy that she's leaving. Bel hates being the subject of so much disgust and wrath. She doesn't want to be taken away from her family while everyone watches smugly after her.

Just as she's thrown onto the stage, Bel shrieks, "Mama!"

She doesn't see the reactions of the fifteens section. Her tears are too hard to see through to even see who the mentor is, or even to look to Madrona for reassurance. Bel shakes and hiccups, sitting on the stage floor as she weakly clutches the leaf with both hands. She doesn't want to go away. She doesn't want to go to the Capitol on her own. What if everyone treats her worse than they already do here, in her own home?

A pair of strong arms loop around her waist, lifting her with ease and carrying her into the Justice Building. The Reaping must be over. No one volunteered for her—not even after finding out she isn't what they hated her for being. The light from outside fades, the doors shutting behind her. She's placed delicately into a chair, spun around to face the one who assisted her—

The sobs only grow in intensity as she recognises the girl who attacked them.

The girl just smirks at her, an almost devious look in her eye as she examines Bel. Her hands hold Bel's face steady, almost unaware of the warm tears coating them.

With a sly smirk, the girl says, "Fate is a funny little thing, isn't it?"

It takes everything in Bel's power not the crush the leaf in her hands. She's never trembled so hard in her life, and even now she can see just why Pansy wanted her sheltered for all these years.

The world is cruel, and Bel is most certainly not ready to face it.

And there we have it! To clarify for those who are a little confused and expected ASL, Bel is using Auslan instead simply because it's much more familiar to me than ASL.

That's D9 done. We're just a few more chapters away from the Capitol Reapings, and then it's Games time! While we wait, here's the Quell Question for this chapter:

QQ #4: How do you feel about Avoxes being sent to replace every ten deceased from D11 and D12?

I'll see you all in District 10, and I hope you enjoyed reading Bel!