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────── #one word count: 3.1k ❝ danger of a dare❞ POV: CHASSIS
7 ATT
Barely anyone lived a long life in Farren Heights. Dying of old age was a luxury reserved for the residents of Peregrine Court. As a neighborhood filled with blue-colored workers, their lungs are bound to the dark fumes emitted by the train station, oil factories, and manufacturing factories (shortened to manu-factories for convenience). If you lived your life morphling-free, or have never been reaped for the newly added Hunger Games, there was always the smog to give you an early introduction to death.
They've learned how to adapt to this, of course. Everyone had their designated 'outdoor masks' (old fabrics and shirts they wore over their nose and mouths) to keep out pollution. In their free time, they'd go to Traveler's Square to inhale fresher air. Windows in Farren Heights were glued shut to avoid the gas from seeping in, and air ventilators were built into the houses.
Chassis learned to be thankful for the little things over the years. She learned how to be thankful for her job in EDET. She's thankful for Farren Heights and its doable ventilation system. It may not be Peregrine Court, but at least she wasn't a vagabond -- a District Six resident that built their own hut or roamed the streets, thus suffering from the smoke day-in and day-out. She's thankful for outdoor masks; as an insecure and awkwardly tall teenage girl growing up in the districts, finding beauty products she desperately wanted were hard to come by.
But one thing she was genuinely grateful for were Cariad's letters. In her most recent letter, Cariad gushed over how she began dating a Capitol boy named Dolion, who was two years her senior. Chassis knew she'd find love, or something adjacent, before her. It wasn't a matter of if, but when, someone would fall for her best friend. What she didn't expect was how quickly it occurred, which was only two weeks into turning fifteen.
Buffy dropped a baby pink envelope on her desk while she looked outside. "From the Toller," she sneered. That's what they called the Capitol folk in Six, which originated from the made-up word, Capitollers. "You know how you'd be more useful, girly? If you asked her for some money," Buffy complained, lightly shoving the younger's head as she worked to open the envelope.
"Or... You can start using my exporting paycheck to pay for rent instead of spending it on your wardrobe," she spoke cautiously, her figure shrinking as she pondered on whether or not she said the right thing.
