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────── #four word count: 3.7k ❝ enhanced ❞ POV:CHASSIS
Base, then flick!
Those were the words Cariad said to help her apply mascara. Start at the base, or the root of the lashes, then flick. Base, then flick. Though, it was a far more difficult task given the fact that she was on a moving train with no mirror, only catching glimpses of her reflection on the back of a rickety old frying pan that they'd use for scrambled eggs. No one in Panem cared enough to install mirrors in the trains. Call her vain, but it would be nice to see how she looked every once in a while.
After what felt like hours, the train crossed the border to their next district, Eleven. The scenery by the window changed from rolling hills to rundown infrastructure and never ending fields of the latest in-season crops.
The homes in Eleven didn't look like the ones in Six. There were concrete apartments, shady alleyways, potholes, and less individual housing back home; even the Peregrine Court's townhouses were smushed together and the color of a boring gray. The houses in Eleven were spread out, each given character on their porches according to the tenants that lived there. Dirt roads brought you from one place to another, and overgrown weeds decorated their lawns. Kids actually played outside with their faces exposed, and didn't have to congregate at a common place like Traveler's Square for the privilege of breathing fresher air. Here, fresh air was their right.
She and Ginnee walked to one of the train's main doors, the latter having a grimy smirk on her face. Clinging onto her friend's arm was Trek, a thirteen year-old newbie that slithered his way into a friendship with them by the time they reached District Nine. They took deep breaths, knowing that after their visit here, they had to return to their outdoor masks and cloudy mornings.
"It's boyfriend time!" Ginnee exclaimed when she saw a familiar white pick-up truck pull up to the docking station. One particular boy hopped off from the trunk, making Ginnee rattle Trek back and forth while looking at Chassis, who was already buckling at the knees from the anxious wave that washed over her.
There was a delivery boy in Eleven that Chassis grew fond of. Fond enough to put on mascara for him, but she swore to take her affections to the grave. Reaper Ash began delivering long before Chassis began exporting. Since she stepped off that train for the first time and onto Eleven's soil, the only thing that could compare to the sweltering intensity of the sun's rays was his eyes. Dizzying brown eyes that held a million questions, and sought her out as if she were the answer.
