asa was a fighter, the type of person who would do anything for the people she loved. and she did just that. she'd managed to get herself into the glade, all for her brother.
then she met gally, the boy who fought more than he could ever love.
and...
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"Appa! Please, I don't—I don't want to go!" Asa cried out, her six year old body latching onto the tall man. Her arms held tight to his waist, the men in suits trying to tear her away.
"Wait." Her father said, the men letting go of the child and he lifted her in his arms. "My cheon-sa, I will see you again. Someday. I need you to be brave for me. Can you do that?" He knelt to the ground, her tears staining her face.
"Y-yes, Appa." She choked on her words, her arms still around him.
"Minho." Their father looked to the quiet boy, his head hung low. "Promise me you'll aways protect your sister. That you'll keep each other safe no matter what. You will always have each other."
"Always."
—
"Who wants to play a game, to get to know each other?" Ava asked the children, each sat up tall at the long table. They were in the meeting room, which looked as every other boring room in the compound.
The children, having been newly moved in, taken from their parents for a greater good; all sat quietly.
Asa was at the end, sat beside a boy who hadn't stopped crying since they were sat down. His head was tucked in his folded arms, light sniffles leaving his nose every few seconds. She poked his shoulder lightly, her doe eyes drenched with sorrow as he lifted his head to face her. Asa layed her head against the cold table, staring at his green eyes and freckle kissed face.
"Want a cookie?" She asked, taking the packaged sweet from her pocket. She'd received it on the train, saving it for when she had an appetite. The boy stared at her, then the cookie, wiping his hot tears from his cheeks and took it. "You can't be sad with a cookie." She told him, a sweet smile appearing on her face.
"But—but I am sad." He mumbled, she shook her head.
"Then you wont appreciate the cookie and I don't know if I can have that." Asa giggled, though she felt every ounce of his pain.
"I do appreciate the cookie." He told her, she smiled brighter, leaning closer to the boy and hugging him.
"I'm Asa." She said, his face reddening as she broke her hold on him.
"Gally."
—
The play room, wasn't a play room at all. It didn't provide fun colors, or games that an eight year old would like to play with. It was bland, painted a dull grey with cushioned mat's drilled to the floor. Ava called it the play room, for the sake of feeling less guilty when she forced children to train in combat.
