#amara silverhorn 01

[esmexsilverhorn]

District Six || Immediately after the 75th Reaping || with Amara Silverhorn @mxllitiam

When she looked back over the years it was easy to see that her views of Reaping days were varied and conflicting. As a child they had almost been something to look forward to - a chance for the family to put on their best clothes and take pride in the Panem that her parents lauded. Innocence had shielded her eyes from the truth of what the day she loved so much really was and so for years her only memories of it were fond. All that stuck in her mind was how proud her father had looked, the excitement of getting to put on her best dress, giggles shared with her siblings, the way her mother had smoothed an affectionate hand over her hair as she'd told her how she looked perfect. But the days when she was old enough to be reaped had been ones met with nerves and anxiety that couldn't be soothed even by her parents reassurance that her name would be lost in the sea of others. As her heart had felt like it was going to beat of her chest she'd been forced to realise that Reapings were not as benign as she'd once thought.

By the time she was old enough to no longer be at risk, the naivety that had been so indulged in her had all but faded away. Doe eyes might have still chosen to look upon the world with optimism but even she couldn't see any silver linings to the Games that she was supposed to love. The only way she'd been able to look upon Reapings in recent years was with sorrow and horror but none of them had been more horrifying than her own sister's name being pulled. Their family had been so untouched by the Games she had almost thought she'd misheard. But as Amara had walked onto the stage she thought that somehow it must have been a nightmare. There was no way that this could be her reality when she couldn't imagine having to watch Amara go through a Games, let alone a life without her sister in it.

Tears had flown freely since the Reaping, thoughts racing too much to think to calm herself as her mother's chiding words about causing a scene fell on deaf ears. The crying had only stopped as she waited outside the room where her sister was for her allotted time, using the wait to pull herself together. She knew well enough that if she went in with tears running down her face Amara would focus on her when she really needed to be focusing on herself. For once Esme wanted to be the solid one, the sister that could be leant on. Finally, it was her turn and she entered the room hesitantly, a nervous glance sent towards the guard that let her in before she focused on her sister. "I'm so sorry, Amara, I don't -" She stops herself before she begins to draw focus to her own disbelief, small shake of her head is given before she takes a few steps forward and extends a hand towards her sister. "How are you? Can I do anything for you?"

[esmexsilverhorn]

It was usually times like these that she could never keep her mouth shut, nerves making words flow to fill the silence and soften any awkwardness. But for once she was mute when she knew that there was nothing she could possibly say to make this any better. There was no combination of words she could pour haphazardly together in some vain hope that they would soothe any hurt. No sentence she could string hastily together that would provide any sort of comfort or reassurance. All she could do was try to stay strong and steady as she held her sister despite how much she wanted to crumble and fall apart. Esme had never considered herself particularly strong - it was hard to be firm and sturdy when she had been allowed to be so soft and delicate - but she knew for certain that even if she were, it would be difficult to bear the crushing weight of the knowledge that she might have to lose her sister. Somehow though she did summon the strength, conjured out of the love she felt for Amara and her desire to give her what she needed, holding on to her trembling sister and hoping that her embrace could bring some kind of comfort.

Head shakes helplessly at her sister's apology when she felt as though she was the last person that should be sorry. There were so many that could be blamed for the position they were now in but she wasn't one of them. "No, don't be sorry. Please." Her sentences are kept purposely short, hoping that brevity might hide some of her emotion or at least reduce the risk of her voice cracking. Tears still swell in her eyes and threaten to fall but she holds them back, ignoring the way that her lips seem determined to curl downwards into a sob. A deep breath is taken, one that she prays isn't too shaky, in the hope that it might calm some of her emotions. It works long enough for her to make a heartfelt vow to her sister. "I'll try - I will."

As Amara pulls away she feels instantly cold at the loss of her sister's warmth against her but she forces herself to meet Amara's eyes as she relays her wishes. "He won't, I promise." There's a determination in her voice that she didn't know she was capable of until now. Her father had always been the one who'd dictated things in her family and she'd rarely challenged him even though there'd been countless times that she knew she should. But Esme feels a certainty within herself that Galven wouldn't deny Amara's wishes this time. "I promise." There's a treacherous part of her that can't help but think that it might be her sister's last request, the last time that she's able to ask her for anything, and tears prick at her eyes tauntingly once more. Voice is soft and hesitant when she speaks, feeling as though it was the remnants of herself as a child that's pleading with her sister not to give up. "You're still going to try though, aren't you?"

Amara tried to remember her father, when she stood in the crowd. She couldn't see him then, couldn't pick him out from the hundreds or thousands of heads on the other side, didn't want to focus too hard on anything other than her wife's hand clutched in her own, too. As she waited, feet planted on the ground and breaths shallow to hear a name plucked from the bowl, she tried to remember his voice, his cocky and conceited drawl as he assured his kids they were never getting picked. He'd brag about the fact that each of the siblings only had the name in there once, while others were counted multiple times, lady luck working against them. He'd say it as if it was anything to be proud of. Amara had learned the truth behind all of that pretty quickly, but she wore it like a blanket today, snuggled it closed around her shoulders and willed it to be true -- they wouldn't pick a Silverhorn, would they?

And then they did. Everything goes by in a blur. She thrashes against the peacekeeper that pulls her from the parting crowd, if only because he doesn't let her kiss Yazmin one last time before she's forced onto the stage. She stands there, a trembling thing, catching the countless pitiful eyes directed towards her. Words are muffled to her ears, some celebration goes by, she's numb; and then she's in a bizarrely impersonal little room where she's supposed to say her hasted goodbyes.

Esme's face breaks through the fog of her panic. Esme, the sweetest thing, looking at her with those round, worried eyes and swallowing back her emotions -- always with a habit of caring more about others than herself. "Esme," she croaks, her voice cracking around the sound, suddenly feeling like she hasn't spoken in months. She takes the hand reached to her, squeezes Esme's fingers, before pulling on her sister's wrist and crumbling into her arms for a desperate hug. She's the older sister, she knows; she's not supposed to break in front of the younger one, but today, she can't help it. The way her entire frame is shaking is obvious against her sister's much more solid one, and she bites back a sob as she speaks again. "I'm sorry," she says, for no reason. Sorry for everything, sorry for anything, she just feels sorrow like a heavy lump in her chest. Sorry that she's going to die. "Take care of Yazmin for me, please." The plea comes quickly, and she gasps in a breath for air, thoughts racing as it all dawns on her. She parts from Esme, holding her sister's shoulders now, speaking with determination despite the tears steadily tracking down her cheeks. "Take care of her-- don't let them take anything away from her, okay? She has our name, she owns everything I leave behind, don't-- don't let dad take it from her. Okay? Promise me, at least."