Game Of Survival •in editing•

11 The Feast

The good thing about being trapped in the room for two days is that people who've taken a liking to you would pity you enough to bring different things to occupy oneself. I sit in front of the window, bars of light shining iridescent along the white canvas and charcoal dustings that litter my hands, face, and paper. Poppy brought me little art supplies she found in the house; supplies that weren't in use. Blue even joined in and snuck me some blue and yellow paint; although it didn't suit the theme I'm focusing on, I took the paint anyway. I sketch drawings of my old home, black and orange for the trees I could see from my bedroom window. The pond just beyond the clearing that always gave Alec, Faith and I pneumonia and an extended lecture from my parents. I needed a distraction. Thinking about the man underground, locked behind bars until his trial is heard, is not helping my case.

Oh how I would love to understand what he meant. By this game he spoke about. It's been like a knawing sensation in my brain, but now that it's quiet; it's all I hear.

I scratch until the pencil breaks in my hand and I sigh, slumping a bit against the bed frame. I look to the door; the door that is now guarded by sweet sweet Poppy since Rider had to tend to the guests coming here tonight; oversee their safe trip here or something like that. I didn't listen when the General warned me not to make a scene and stay in the shadows. All I heard was: sweet, sweet reprieve...and some time to plan a little chaos.

I gather my things and set them on the table before sauntering to the door, knocking twice as I'd told Poppy I'd do.

She opens the lock, peeking through the chain still attached to the door from the outside.

"I need more colour. Something pretty. I don't think Blue would have anything bright enough for a sunset would she?"

Poppy inclines her head, thinking. I pretend to think too. Although I already know what I want.

"Ah! I hear the sleeping flowers give a perfect yellow hue once mixed with tumeric. Can you fetch me some?"

She doesn't respond. Instead she purses her lips, looking down the hall in case someone was to magically pop up and reprimand her.

I apologize to her in my head, reminding myself I'll make it up to her...somehow. "If you can't get it, I'll be as quiet as—" She shakes her head vigorously, interrupting me. I smile mentally at that. Once the sleeping flowers are obtained, I can set the plan in motion. All I need now is a little girl who usually makes her way to the gardens at four for a stroll with her dolls.

When Poppy leaves, I count the minutes in my head. There are a lot of guests in the house. Making a path to the gardens on the outside is going to be tough. A shadow rounds the corner two minutes later; small and pocket sized. I whistle, the sound of a blue bird. A tiny head peaks around the corner, a teddy bear hanging from her hand.

She approaches the door with a little smile, analysing the lock like another toy to play with. "Hey Blue." I coo, hoping she's not a michevious child who'd lock me in the room and run away giggling. "I know you're going to the gardens. May I come with you? I hear there's a lot of people here tonight, do you want to have some fun?"

She looks at me curiously but doesn't hesitate. She unlocks the door and reaches for my sleeve, sauntering toward the garden. I have to be back before Poppy enters my room to find me missing. Then I'll be in deep shit.

We creep through the house as fast as possible, as I tell Blue all about the royal blue stink bugs that live around the rose bushes. She grins at me like she knows exactly where this is going.

The gardens are clear, that's expected considering nobody would be wandering outside. There are, however, guards at the other end of the garden to keep watch for any outside intruders. I place a finger to my lips, motioning for Blue to stay quiet. She giggles, a sound so childlike a warmth bubbles inside me and I laugh silently too.