𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 ‣ 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

i. means to survival

act one, chapter one – means to survival

Fallon Black stares back at the identical image in the mirror, wondering if this is what the crowd of people would see if her name was called. The cold kiss of silver chain against her chest marks the countdown to the dreaded moment, the clock harrowingly down to zero.

What she sees before her feels remarkably alienated from what usually replaces it. It was the first time since she had qualified for the reaping that she no longer looked like a child. Her features filled out the intricate delicacies of her mother's old dress, forcing the advantageous look of innocence away. The expressionless, bordering on judgmental, look on her defined face intensified the fact that she was no longer a child. The youthful ideology that there was some possibility for hope slipped out of her consciousness.

Contrasting the emptiness of her entire presence is a hint of bittersweetness at the resemblance to her mother. The only reminder of her was the embers of flame-red hair and emerald eyes that Fallon inherited. It was sudden, the doctors said. Heartattack.

Burden rests on the name of Black, upheld through honor and action. Her father, now lacking any traits moderately resembling the values he once drilled his children, was never the same once his wife died. While her death had forced maturity onto Fallon and responsibility onto her brother Aris, her father seemed to disappear along with her.

Emerging from the edge of the reflection comes Aris, the neutrality of his sailor's shirt excentuting the almost harshness of his sapphire eyes. Cutting the symphony of his beauty again is his raven, wavy curls. He cranes his neck to get to Fallon's level due to his towering height, squeezing her shoulders in the way he always did. In the way a father should have, but biological, paternal comfort was something she never had experience with and never would. It was never something she dwelled on because the void of it never made her feel any less loved as her brothers care was a million times more nourishing than his ever could be.

Fallon thinks about her mother. A few years prior, maybe she would've convinced herself that she was looking down at her now. Guiding her in spirit. A bitter wave of nostalgia forced that thought out, replacing it with certainty that she was alone now. The lasting image of a young girl, imprinted on her mother's mind eternally in death. Never changing. Fallon wonders if this reality is more merciful than if she had stayed alive. This way, her mother's memory of her daughter was pure and full of love, still sheltered from inevitable pain. It's the only way Fallon finds closure.

Responsibility resting on her shoulders hardens her fair skin and sharpens the harsh edge of her smile. It was traditional for mothers to prepare their daughters for a reaping. Without one, and with an absent father, Fallon thinks Aris does a impressive job of hiding his confusion on how to balance motherly comfort with brotherly compassion. Playing every role in her life matured him far past the age of seventeen, clouding his once clear eyes like a storm brewing. He undyingly tried to make her feel as normal as possible when both of them knew that was unachievable. He stays calm to keep her calm, knowing that anything he did she would follow; emotionally and physically. But, his thick brows form creases as his practical fingers fumble to hold the delicate jewelry.