↳ i don't rise from the ashes, i make them...
oc x finnick odair
catching fire - mockingjay pt. 2 (flashbacks included)
TW: Depression, thoughts of suicide, use of drugs/alcohol, use of tobacco, detailed gore, use of weapons, death, and mentions/sug...
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Isla felt herself turn over in her uncomfortable bed, the springs creaking with each and every one of her movements. Although she liked to pretend that she had gotten any, the sleep she received last night was highly lacking, leaving her feeling sluggish and exhausted. Her eyes, slightly pale and puffy, were crusted over a bit with remnants of the little slumber she had gotten. That issue was resolved with a few swipes of the backs of her hands at her eyelids.
Morning light poured through the open window beside her bed, the salty sea breeze that lingered throughout the community swiping the white curtain that hung from it through the air. The fabric was threadbare and old from years of use and sun bleaching, but she didn't mind it. The curtain did enough and served its purpose in her life. That was the mentality of many things around her, Isla realized.
She turned her head as she sat up, seeing little Aylo still cuddled inside her cradle of blankets on top of her bed on the other side of the room. She was glad she had gotten some sleep, at least, for she fully believed that she wouldn't have. That year, Aylo was starting to become old enough to understand what was going on around her. Isla could only be glad that she would be out of the running for the Reaping after that year, and there would be many years until Aylo became eligible, herself. Time would slow for a little while, when they didn't have to live in such vivid terror.
Looking at the dusty clock that hung on the far wall, Isla could see it was about time that she started to get ready so they could head into town before too long. She was surprised that her parents, specifically her mother, hadn't woken her up by then. She was always on top of things and was particularly worried about being on time, especially to things as important as the Reaping. Nobody in their right minds could be late to the Reaping.
She trudged from her bed, pushing the sheets aside and standing up. It had been so hot last night, that any other articles of clothing, except for her underwear, were useless. Now, when the cold ocean breeze blew through her window and hit her with a sort of aggression, she felt gooseflesh rise atop her skin. She decided that could just be out of nervousness, but was sort of unsure if it truly was.
She walked to her closet, which didn't have many articles clothing inside, even though she shared it with Aylo. Isla didn't own much, and on top of that, Aylo wore most of Isla's old clothes, which were typically worn out, but her little sister was still always excited to have them, no matter how old and worn they were.
Isla found her nicest dress, which was was made of white chiffon and tied in a bow in the back, above what was a short, but flowing, skirt. It was plain, if anything, and was mostly void of ruffles, with its flat bodice and thick straps that laid over her shoulders. Practicality was ideal, which was also the reason that she picked the brown, leather sandals that tied tightly around her ankles. She would need to stay cool during the next few hours, as well as comfortable, for the Reaping in the midst of summer on a sunny day could always be guaranteed to be a treacherous endeavor.
