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organised-disaster · 1 month

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Okay after much stalling here it is. @randosfandos was responsible for about 90% of the encouragement so this is their fault. The first chapter of my Hunger Games fanfic

SNOWBIRD: CHAPTER I

I finally knock my opponent's feet out from under her with one sweeping kick, then rush behind her and catch her into a chokehold. She turns bright red, frothing at the mouth, then rapidly taps my arm after only a few seconds.

I drop her. She rubs her throat, gasping and coughing as she slumps over on the ground. I sit down next to her, trying to catch my breath. I underestimated how difficult that would be. I pull my black hair out of its high ponytail, wrapping the band around my wrist.

It reaches my lower back when I'm standing, although my slouched sitting position means it now brushes the ground. I would always absent-mindedly play with it when I was younger. I tend to do that less now.

I massage my sore chin. It took far too many hits in that fight. My sparring partner is no better off, one of her eyes squeezed shut and my handprints on her skin from every harsh grab. I probably clawed her up more than was necessary, now that I think about it.

But we're not training for a competition, are we? We're training to be deadly on our own without weapons. There always has to be a certain sense of urgency when it comes to training, but today we felt it most. We had to finish fast, after all. This was a last-minute session.

She punches my shoulder. I glance at her. She's holding out her hand for me to shake. I take it, the wrapping on both our hands rasping together. She stands up, stretches her back, and walks out the door of the den.

Fair enough. I should leave to get cleaned up, too. A good shower and a lot of soap would do wonders for me right now. I crack my neck as I rise. Then my knuckles. Then my wrists.

As I finish twisting my left wrist around, someone in the audience catches my eye. She waves meekly at me, one hand on her knee and clutching at the hem of her blue dress. It's quite a nice summer dress. She's wearing it for a good reason today. I wave back at Sera, smiling at her. She looks like she laughs, tucking some of her curly dirty-blonde hair behind her ear.

Her warm, amber eyes crinkle when she laughs. She's always been a good friend of mine. Always. But... I mostly only call her my friend because it's the safest option. I don't truly know how I feel about Sera, only that I trust her. That I love her, platonic or otherwise.

I push those thoughts to the back of my mind. It's not important right now. I'll have time to figure it all out later. Sera stands up and starts to walk down the steps from her row in the seats.

She's never been stable on stairs, giving her an unsure step down. It's careful and controlled, however, so that she doesn't fall. She has to hold her hair behind her ears while she walks down. Otherwise, it obscures her vision.

It's always so pretty, the way she gets down stairs, all things combined. The way she carefully tests her stability with one foot, gently bringing the other down and hesitating before repeating the whole thing again.

She's quite a graceful-looking girl, Sera. Even if she trips over, as she likes to say, "particularly thick patches of air." She always manages to recover immediately, popping up with some bright comment about the quality of the pavement or the situation with the ants.

Sera reaches the bottom of the stairs and smiles at me. She closes her eyes when she smiles. It's a sweet, although slightly childish, trait that's persisted even to the age of seventeen.

"Did you see that, Rumes? Made it to the floor this time," she says, the light tone of her voice suggesting she's not serious.

"Yes, you did very well, Sera. Would you like an award?" I jab playfully back. I theatrically spread my hands in the air, acting like I'm showing something off. "Sera Kaishurr, great at not tripping and snapping her neck during basic physical activity!"

Sera elbows me, annoyed but still amused. I can't disguise the pained groan that comes out of my mouth. I must have bruised pretty rough after my sparring partner hit me in the ribs.

Sera tsks disapprovingly.

"Is it that bad, Rumes?" she asks, genuinely concerned now. Her playfulness has vanished, being replaced by mild sadness. Sera has always looked out for me.

"Oh, just hurts a little. I'll be fine in no time, don't you worry," I say clunkily. I may as well have told her with how bad that lie was. I'm not a bad liar, but I just can't seem to lie to Sera.

As expected, she's not convinced. She rolls her eyes.

"It's okay if you got hurt, Rumes. You don't have to act like you're invincible," she says. I give a short, quiet laugh.

"Nah, I'm immortal. I'm indestructible. Infallible, even," I jokingly boast.

"Ah, yes, Rumi Erudite, famous for never ever making a single mistake in her whole life, ever," Sera shoots in response.

We both laugh. She takes one of my hands, her fingers between mine, and starts leading me out the door of the building.

"Oh, also, happy birthday, you jerk. Your present's on your bed," Sera says, trying to sound annoyed.

"Aw, you shouldn't have," I say. Sera laughs softly, tucking her hair behind her ear again. I study her face, unable to tear away my eyes.

Some people think we're sisters, if only for a short while. Their main justifications are our heights and how close we are. I can sort of see it with our similar statures and frames. But there are differences aside from our hair colour and attitudes that make us easy to tell apart.

Sera's eyes are that gorgeous dark gold. Mine are just a foggy green. Sera is healthily tanned, spending all her time out on the open ocean, while I am an alarming type of pale for someone my age, spending my time indoors learning all the ways to kill someone with a fishhook.

Sera is strong with calloused hands, handling nets and heavy loads of fish. I am fit and scarred, exercising and fighting every day of my life. Sera is broad-shouldered and round-faced, I am lean with a narrow face and sharp cheekbones.

Sera is capable, definitely, but her body has a pleasant softness to it that she can't seem to shed, always eating well and in large quantities. My body has nothing in excess as a result of a tight diet and tighter exercise.

Sera is bright and brilliant, always smiling or laughing. I always look outwardly hostile, my default expression of a scowl making me unapproachable. We lead very different lives, Sera and I. We couldn't be sisters. And... I think I'd prefer we remain that way.

My heart's beating faster now that she's holding my hand. I squeeze her hand tighter, looking to hold it forever. There is only birdsong to greet us. We are awake before the sun.

"Hey, come on. Let's see the sunrise," says Sera, leading me to where we always go.

There's a hill that runs behind the Justice Building. The hill is almost touching it with how close it is, meaning if you know your way through the alleyways, you can get onto the hill and the roof of the Justice Building.

The Peacekeepers don't usually do anything to stop people from just sitting there. Why would they? They have no reason to even bother. The only people who ever go there are me and Sera. And the odd couple, of course.

Sera talks about nothing in particular while leading me there. She goes on and on and on about her latest fishing trip. Allegedly, she caught some kind of shark that was this big. The shark gets bigger every time she mentions it.

Sera talks when she gets nervous. I've found that out during school presentations. Sera once completely froze up and started a nearly irrelevant tangent about muttations. We were supposed to be talking about the core industries of every district at the time.

Her anxious ramblings slowly fade from my hearing. I can see, from my place at her side, the notch in her nose, which makes it a little crooked. I've always blamed myself for Sera's slightly disrupted features. I can very clearly visualise how it happened to her.

We were young, very, and we were playing by the docks. I was only seven while she couldn't have been older than six. It was just after my seventh birthday, I believe.

She called me "Roo" when we were younger. She didn't really have a reason to stop, although I guess she didn't really have a reason to start, either.

We loved to chase each other around the docks. Her father's boat was a favourite landmark of ours. We used it as a final point for any races we ran. We were fully aware that there were rocks right under the dock, just in front of where Sera's father would tie up his boat. It was why it was "his" spot; he was the only one brave enough to risk gouging a hole in his boat.

One day, that boat was missing. Sera's father had taken it out for a fishing trip. Sera loved to come along with him, but she was at my house and hadn't known that he had set out.

We were once again chasing each other.

"You're too slow, Roo! Can't catch me!" I felt absolute outrage at Sera's statement.

"Nuh-uh! Can too!" I said, using my best counter. It was true, I was unable to catch her. She kept running along the docks.

It had started to rain, and the water made the rotting wood at the far ends of the dock slippery. Sera and I knew how to run without slipping, but it didn't mean we didn't still fall from time to time.

"Ser-uuuhh! Wait up! You're too fast!" I whined at her. She giggled and kept going. I ran faster, trying to catch her. One of my feet lost its grip on the dock. It was the old part of it, after all.

I kept running, though. My balance wasn't thrown too far off.

"I'm gonna get there before you!" Sera teased. We kept running together. Sera never seemed to tire, never seemed to need rest.

I was always envious of her stamina. I noticed the ship missing before Sera did, however.

"Sera! Wait, the boat!" was all I could manage. Sera did spot it, but not before she had already veered off to the side that would throw her onto the jagged rocks below her.

She stopped, but far too late.

"Sera!"

The rocks weren't kind to Sera, seeing as nature will have no mercy on a child. All that remains of Sera's accident to remind me of my failure is a crooked nose and two barely noticeable scars on her forehead and mouth.

I attempt to find these scars with my eyes now. I fail, but I remember exactly what they look like. From her right eyebrow to her hair parting is a pink line just about visible against her vaguely tan, freckled skin. From her chin to her nose is an almost invisible scar that I believe also runs inside her mouth. She was lucky to escape with only those.

Oh, and her speech impediment. She was left unable to properly say things with an audible "w" in them. Sometimes, just so she doesn't have to hurt her mouth trying to say a "w" word, she'll pause and actively avoid it. It makes her sound a little like the six year old she was when she got it.

She can't really say "w" sounds, either. It means she has odd ways of saying words like "out." She tends to avoid words she struggles to say. She doesn't try anything when she gets emotional, though, just letting the words tear up her tongue.

Sera doesn't remember a thing of the day she got hurt. Sera doesn't remember about a week before that, either, but that's understandable, considering she was young. I would find it understandable, however, if Sera wasn't able to recall the week before the one she has no memory of.

Sera, for a while after her injury, had memory problems. To this day, she's more forgetful than I think would be reasonable for a healthy person.

"Rumi? Are you even listening?" Sera's voice snaps me back to the present day.

"No, sorry, I stopped listening to you three years ago," I blurt. I watch Sera make a bizarre medley of facial expressions as she tries to restrain a smile.

She inevitably fails, her eyes creasing up as her beautiful smile shows on her face.

"Fine, Erudite, you're forgiven," she says, defeated. I laugh. I glance around. We've walked farther than I thought while I was lost in my thoughts.

We're now right next to the Justice Building. Sera continues to walk, although she speaks less now. I can't tell if that's a good or bad thing.

Whatever the case, it doesn't matter. We'll both be okay today. Sera's face is paler than normal today. I give her hand a tight, quick squeeze to remind her that I'm still here for her.

She smiles back at me. I can't help but notice that it seems ever so slightly forced.

After a short walk through the housing past the Justice Building, we've come to Sera's family home. As is normal, we do an awkward, flattened shuffle between the fence lines of Sera's home and her neighbour's.

We pop into the space behind the homes. This narrow sliver of dirt is the only path not blocked by trees or barbed wire. Sera's property line has no trees on it, making it the most convenient path.

She's no longer holding my hand. It's childish that that's all it takes to upset me, even if it's only slightly. I don't truly care, but a part of me wants to be that near again. For her skin and mine to be that close.

I push that thought away as I follow just behind Sera. We're quiet as we pass behind houses, not looking to disturb those still sleeping.

The ground slopes upwards. Sera runs quickly up the hill, bouncing off each of her feet so she doesn't slow down. I copy her. We reach the top of the hill, almost completely lined up with the Justice Building.

Sera takes a few steps back, then runs up to the ledge. She springs forward, easily clearing the gap. She trips and loses her balance when she lands. She doesn't quite land on her face, although she gets close.

"Uh-oh, Rumes, the roof is cracked! Better not... uh." Sera cuts off her own joking comment, falling into an uncomfortable silence. She's nervous to the point where she won't even make jokes anymore.

I clear the gap also, joining her on the other side. Sera gives a quietly uncertain laugh, walking over to the edge of the roof and sitting down. She kicks her legs as they hang over the edge.

The silence slowly shifts into peace as I sit down on her right. We don't need to talk, not when we have this view. This view of the docks, the ocean.

The sun. It starts to rise after a while. It strikes the water, letting me see every tiny ripple in the surface I thought was flat as glass. The tide will be coming back in soon. People will start to depart to catch fish.

Well, they would on a normal day. Sera would be one of those people, handling tridents and nets and fish and maps and helms and knots. Sera would come home late, clothes stiff with salt and hands blistered from ropes.

She's been hurt out there more than a few times. Tangled in ropes or cut by her own knife, giving her awful burns or severe lacerations. She once spent a full day recovering in Cod's workspace after being impaled by a swordfish that lodged itself in her shin when she tried to harpoon it.

The swordfish is a favourite story of hers. Her father and Seth can both confirm it as true, and older fishermen can validate that it actually happens.

Regardless of whatever happens to her, however, Sera loves the open water. She's more stable on boats than on land, and such a strong swimmer that it's a wonder she's as uncoordinated as she is.

The sun turns the water almost white as it finds its footing in the sky, growing larger than the sliver of gold it appeared before. I glance over at Sera. It's getting hard for both of us to see the sunrise as it gets brighter, and Sera's eyes are already halfway shut.

"You sure did get up early just to watch me, huh?" I say, breaking the silence. I hadn't considered it before, but as the sun outshines every other star, I can't help but acknowledge that Sera woke up at an unholy hour just to see me practice fighting.

Sera sighs.

"Truth be told, I never really slept," she says, awkwardly scratching the back of her head. "I'm just so scared, the idea of keeping my eyes closed never really..." I lean my head on her shoulder as we watch the ocean.

"Hey, you'll be okay. Your odds of getting drawn are lower than mine," I reassure her.

Sera stops looking out to the horizon, glaring down at the ground far below us instead. She balls her hands up, gripping the edge of the roof so hard I'm convinced the stone will break off in her hands.

"That's w-w-what I'm scared about," she starts, briefly tightly shutting her eyes as she concentrates on saying the letter "w." "I'm not scared for me. I'm scared for you," she says, voice wavering. I'm confused.

Sera doesn't look at me, continuing to attempt to melt the concrete far below us with her eyes.

"Rumes. I need you to promise me you w-w-won't volunteer today," she says quietly. There is an urgency in her voice I don't believe I've ever heard.

"Of course I won't, Sera," I reassure her. Sera looks at me. She's crying, I notice. Her expression doesn't suggest sadness, however. She looks more determined than anything.

The light of the rising sun make her tears nearly glow on her face. The loose strands of her hair are made to look like flaming gold, the sunlight reflecting in her eyes. They shine brighter than ever now, in this moment, wet with tears and defiance.

I am left breathless as I stare at her. The word that floats into my halted thoughts is ethereal. Sera is a goddess given human form. Sera is the only true thing in this gorgeous, shining moment. Nothing is as important as Sera. The sun itself has highlighted her against the skyline.

"No. Promise. I w-w-want you to promise me. Promise me that you w-w-won't volunteer even though you're eighteen," she insists. The crack in her voice reminds me that she is just a girl. I take a deep breath in, remembering that I am human also.

"Okay, Sera. I promise you I won't volunteer," I say gently. Sera nods slightly, looking back out at the horizon again. She starts to chew on her lower lip, nervously biting until it bleeds.

She licks the blood off, looking at me again. She looks like she wants to say something. I place my hand on her leg, reminding her that I'm here.

"I'm really, really scared, Rumes," she finally says, burying her face in her hands. Her voice is tiny. I shuffle closer to her and put my arm around her. I let her cry into my shoulder as the sun finishes coming up.

#the hunger games #snowbird chapter 1 #rumi erudite #sera kaishurr #hunger games fic #oh wow i did it #polished(ish) writing #if this flops you saw nothing #if this flops you never saw it #if this flops i will cry #i gave it serious tags and everything #okay randos here you go enjoy #i got most of the errors but i honestly cant be bothered to comb through it again

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tawakkull · 3 years

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ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 103

Early Developments

After its initial growth over the first three centuries of Islamic history, Sufis began to espouse a distinct cosmological and metaphysical perspective. In part, these tendencies grew out of broader speculative trends in Islamic philosophy and theology. As the social acceptability of Sufism grew, its practitioners were organized by their shaykhs and disciples into Orders, or turuq (singular: tariqa). These had a social and religious function since they became vehicles for the passing down of knowledge and practices among distinct circles of students. The institutionalization of learning in Islamic schools, madrasas, overlapped with that of the tariqas, and the scholarly works of Sufis were part of broader educational curricula.

In the 12th and 13th centuries C.E., the Sufi scholar Ibn al-Arabi (d. 1240) was highly influential, but not without some controversy. He was called "Al-Shaykh al-Akbar," the "Greatest Shaykh." He wrote on all issues of theory and practice in Islam, not just mysticism, and he did so in ways that were so sophisticated and erudite as to be intimidating if not confusing. Due to the vast range of his work, it is not easy to make decisive statements about all of his views, and though many modern scholars have attempted to categorize his thinking, most agree that one cannot explicitly pinpoint his doctrine. Instead, Ibn al-Arabi is well known for his ability to expound at length from a multiplicity of perspectives.

Nonetheless, a number of concepts were central to his work and to subsequent Sufi thinking. One of these is wujud, which can mean "being, or existence"; this concept necessitates the disciple's realization of God's existence. Another is the understanding of God's names, of which, according to Islamic tradition, there are ninety-nine. Each name describes an attribute of God, such as "The Merciful" or "The All-Knowing." Sufis interpreted facets of their relationship to God through the lens of the ninety-nine names. For example, God as "All-Seeing" would affect the Sufi's awareness of God's omniscience and omnipresence, and have a corresponding effect on one's behavior and thought.

Ibn al-Arabi was central to the history of Sufism in the Islamic world. His teachings on the Quran (namely that every verse, word, and letter of the scripture reveals a different manifestation of God) were highly influential for other esoteric readings. Drawing on law, theology, and hadith, Ibn al-Arabi understood that shariah, or Islamic law in the broadest sense, was all the teaching brought by prophets. Secondarily, and more specifically, it refers to the teachings in the Quran and Sunna of Muhammad(pbuh). Finally, and most narrowly, within the Sunna it refers to the revealed legal rulings as opposed to other anecdotal or historical reports. In his view, the purpose of obeying shariah is to die and return to God in such a way that one's eternal happiness, namely salvation, is assured.

Ibn al-Arabi is seen as pivotal in the history of Sufism because his work exemplifies a moment in which themes such as God's oneness (tawhid) or the nature of prophecy, which had previously been the purview of theologians or philosophers, shifted into Sufi writing as well. Broadly speaking, these two issues dealt with the nature of God and the nature of God's relationship with humans, respectively.

The oneness of God was a matter of tremendous discussion in the early Islamic period, especially as it related to his attributes, mentioned above. Questions arose as to whether or not God's attributes were separate from him, or a part of him. That is, did they describe God, or were they somehow co-eternal entities? This opened up many complicated philosophical and theological lines of inquiry for medieval scholars, especially because of one attribute that calls God "the One who Speaks." The answer to the question "What is God's speech?" was "The Quran." This answer inspired yet another question: If the Quran is God's speech, did it always exist (are his attributes co-eternal)? If not, was it created at a specific moment, or was it always there? In other words, is the Quran eternal or created? At first glance, it seems that these questions are about the text of the Quran but in fact, they originated from discussions about God's attributes, namely his speech.

Another dimension of how God communicates is the history of prophecy—namely, how does God choose to instruct humans regarding their behavior? When prophets speak and act, is it by their authority or God's? Are they infallible because they are guided by God? Sufis did not come up with a uniform set of responses to these questions, but their engagement in such matters illustrates how much philosophy and theology came to shape Sufi thought.

Before these philosophical questions arose, Sufi works had been more concerned with the practice of morality and the nature and status of the self and the soul. After the 13th century, performative writing, especially poetry (the most famous example of which is the poetry of Jalal al-Din Rumi, who died in the 13th century), came to dominate Sufi literature. With such luminaries of mystical poetry as Farid al-Din Attar (d. 1221 C.E.), Hafiz (d. 1390 C.E.), and Amir Khusraw (d. 1325), Sufi literature took yet another turn, making the 13th century a high point for Sufi intellectual writing.

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mediaeval-muse · 6 years

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Mediaeval-Muse’s Intermediary Pack of Global Medieval Lit

Same rules as my starter pack, but this list contains more prose texts. It’s still fairly easy to get a hold of copies of these things. I’m not listing texts that are out of print or require people to be experts before reading. I’m also not including a lot of religious writing because that in itself is its own list.

Japan Japanese No Dramas, Penguin ed. Tale of the Heike, Penguin ed. Essays in Idleness, Penguin ed. As I Crossed a Bridge of Dreams, Penguin ed. Diary of Lady Murasaki, Penguin ed.

Italy The Travels of Marco Polo, Penguin ed. The Golden Legend by Jacobus de Voragine, Penguin ed.

Persia/Islamic Empire The Travels of Ibn Battutah, Macmillan Ibn Fadlan and the Land of Darkness, Penguin ed. The Conference of the Birds, Penguin ed. The Book of Contemplation: Islam and the Crusades, Penguin ed. The Ultimate Ambition in the Arts of Erudition: A Compendium of Knowledge from the Classical Islamic World, Penguin ed. Spiritual Verses by Jalaloddin Rumi, Penguin ed. Ethiopia The Kebra Nagast, trans. Gerald Hausman

Wales Journey Through Wales by Gerard of Wales, Penguin ed. History and Topography of Ireland by Gerard of Wales, Penguin ed. Poems of Dafydd ap Gwilym

Ireland The Voyage of St. Brendan, trans. John J. O'Meara Life of St. Columba, by Adomnan of Iona, Penguin ed.

Frankish Two Lives of Charlemagne by Einhard and Notker the Stammerer, Penguin ed.

France Chronicles of the Crusades, Penguin ed. Romance of the Rose, Oxford ed. The Book of the City of Ladies, by Christine de Pizan, Penguin ed. The Roman de Silence, trans. Sarah Roche-Mahdi Letters of Abelard and Heloise, Penguin ed.

Germany Selected Writings of Hildegard of Bingen, Penguin ed. Scandinavia/Iceland King Harald’s Saga, Penguin ed. Edda, Everyman ed.

#medieval

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organised-disaster · 1 month

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Here you go @randosfandos and @baxieblur-turnip since you wanted it so much I'm ENSURING you see it the second you check your notifs

SNOWBIRD: CHAPTER II

I shower, scrubbing my sweaty body. The breeze from the roof of the Justice Building air-dried me slightly, but it feels nice to finally be showering. My hair isn't especially dirty, and it's irritating trying to dry it, so I make a conscious effort to keep it away from the water. The soap smell is soothing. I can't quite place it.

I scrub my face. I get soap in my eyes. I no longer feel happy about the soap. I wash the soap off of me and out of my eyes as I think about today. It's the day of the Reaping, meaning I need to be prepared, just like every year, to potentially be sent to die.

Or watch someone I care about get sent to die... Yumi would tell me that she loves me in a situation like this. She did every year before she passed away.

Yumi. My older sister. Never did well as a Career. Yumi was gentle, empathetic. A bleeding heart, even. She couldn't bear to hurt anyone. If someone hit her, she'd ask them why instead of hitting back.

I step out of the shower, wrapping my towel around my torso. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Yumi and I didn't look similar to each other. Yumi's nose was softer and rounder, her eyes kinder. Yumi's hair was a dusty black, much lighter than my charred colour. Yumi was cheerful and radiated warmth and welcoming.

I can't stop seeing her instead of me when I look in a mirror, though. I knew Yumi's face as well as I know Sera's. I know that while her eyes were warmer, they were still as narrow and catlike as mine are. They still looked just as harsh in the wrong lighting.

I know that while Yumi's default expression was a soft smile, her anger still looked the same as mine. Anger was so rare, so jarring, that I couldn't help but memorise it.

I know that while I rarely smile at anyone but Sera, Yumi had dimples and creases identical to mine. I can't stand to smile at my reflection anymore. It's impossible not to see Yumi.

Sometimes I wonder if Sera sees Yumi in my smile as well. I wonder if she loves her exactly the same as I do. I wonder if she blames me exactly the same as I do.

I wonder if Sera sees Yumi in her own smile also. Yumi's narrow face didn't especially resemble Sera's, but Sera's eyes and Yumi's were similar browns, although Sera's eyes practically glow from the inside. Sera's smile has the same comforting quality as Yumi's.

Yumi was just as good with people as Sera, just as patient as Sera. Just as kind. Just as sweet. Just as trusting.

I wanted to be like her when I was younger. I know now that Yumi's thinking never did anything good for her. She needed to be vicious. Capable of taking a life. She wasn't, not when it mattered most.

I'll give her that. Yumi passed on her own terms. Yumi knew what she wanted. Yumi stuck with it. With her love for humanity. She's braver than me in that sense.

She was so much like Sera, it's almost like they're the same person. Perhaps that was the reason I got so close with Sera after Yumi died.

Or maybe the reason was because Sera loved Yumi, too, and felt her loss as much as I did.

There's a lump in my throat. My vision blurs slightly. I wipe my eyes, clearing my throat. I splash cold water on my face. Today, of all days, is a bad time to think of Yumi.

I violently scrub my face again, this time with my towel to dry it. I look up into the mirror by accident. My fringe is completely soaked. My eyes are reddened. There's a brief flash of Yumi's face across my vision, angry and full of hate.

It's gone as quick as it arrived. I hurriedly turn away from the mirror. I dry myself, keeping the mirror behind me the whole time.

After I'm no longer sticky, I pick up my clothes from the floor and start to get changed. A nice button-up and trousers. The shirt is grey, and the trousers are white, both slightly worn as they originally belonged to... I glance at the mirror again.

Yumi glares at me. She sniffs and wipes her nose as she finishes putting the clothes she wore on the day of the Reaping on. I leave the bathroom, and my sister, behind.

Sera is sitting on my bed, toying with her hands anxiously. Her eyes are trained on my clock, watching every second quietly thunk by. The sound of the clock is almost muffled by her uneven breathing and the occasional thump of her heel when her bouncing leg makes contact with the floor.

She smiles up at me when she notices me in the doorway, stopping her jittering. Her hands continue to shake slightly, as does her leg. Her eyes dart to what I'm wearing, then back up to my face again.

Her smile vanishes, if only for a moment. It's back so quickly, it's almost like she didn't react at all. She remembers, then. Well, how could she have forgotten?

Yumi was just as much Sera's sister as she was mine. If Sera wasn't at my house to talk to me, she was here to talk to Yumi. If Yumi was out, chances were that she'd be doing something with Sera.

Sera screamed louder than I did. Sera's grief was known. Sera gained sympathy.

Such an apathetic child...

No reaction whatsoever..?

Her sister...

How awful...

A monster, that's for sure...

I block out the whispers of District Four as I sit down next to Sera. As she always does when we are close like this, she leans into me. I put my arm around her and let her rest her head in the crook of my neck. She sighs deeply, her breathing calming down.

I know how deeply Sera craves the comfort of touch. I have always been averse. In general, if someone is making contact with my skin, it's because they're trying to hit me until I don't get back up.

But I also know how good it feels to be near to Sera. For our hands to be locked together, for our shoulders to be touching, for her breath to be on my neck.

Sera is gently gripping the hand attached to the arm I'm holding her with. She carefully traces lines along my palm with her thumbs, following the creases. Sera likes repetitive things like that.

There are a million things I could say to Sera. But just like every year, I don't need to say any of them. Now is not a time for words. Words come later. Words come after. And some words come never.

Words used to express relief. Words used to state gratitude. It's considered awful luck to say things like that. Especially when the people selected only have a one-in-twenty-four chance of coming home.

No matter what, there'll always be at least one grieving family. Sera's family has always been so lucky. Seth, Sera's brother, is only about a year older than I am. He's too old for the Reaping now. He's never been pulled.

Sera hasn't been pulled before, either. I hope she stays that way. I don't know what I'd do if she didn't. I've never thought about it, either. If I think about something like that, it starts getting hard to breathe.

I can't really think about it. My thoughts just won't go there, and if I force them to, they don't stay for long. I don't like it. I stay away from things like that. They belong at the very back of my mind with everything else.

I don't have to worry about that. Sera won't be pulled. I won't be pulled again. We're going to be okay.

Sera's switched from massaging my palm to fiddling with the hem of Yumi's shirt. She's started her gnawing of her lower lip, the already damaged skin bleeding slightly.

Her eyes flick to my clock again. I once again hear her breathing grow uneven as some degree of panic sets in. I squeeze her a little tighter, pull her a little closer.

Sera tears her eyes from the clock. Sera has a death grip on Yumi's shirt. I gently pry her fingers off, squeezing her hand when Yumi's shirt is free. Sera's tenderising of her lip ceases. Sera sighs and surrenders as we fall over together on my bed.

Sera adjusts herself to be resting her head on my chest, her feet hanging off the edge of my bed. Sera only ever wears one pair of shoes. A clunky pair of worn leather boots that fall off her feet at every possible occasion. They slide off, one actually hitting the floor while the other clings for dear life onto her ankle.

I hope my heartbeat doesn't speed up too much. It'll probably make Sera's head bounce if it does. I let my head fall back onto my pillow, my neck already hurting from my observation of Sera's boots.

Sera starts to toy with my hair, running it through her hands. She's always loved to compliment how shiny it is, how smooth I keep it. She always goes on to say how she wished she could have her hair as tidy and clean and nice-to-the-touch as mine.

I never said anything to her. Perhaps I should have. I would have liked to tell her that her tousled mess was charming. That it framed her face. That it brought out her smile.

I would not have liked to tell her that it made her look like Yumi, who wore her unkempt, unruly disaster in almost the exact same way. I don't think Sera remembers, but her hair was kept neat once, too.

Back when Yumi was still alive and Sera's mother was still around. Sera saw her family a lot more when she was younger, her brother not yet graduated, and her father not totally responsible for their income.

She had to brush her hair every couple of hours and apply some sort of gel to it, but it stayed in place. The kind of cutesy style that made little girls an object of affection for all the little boys.

She was maybe around seven when she properly met Yumi. She had come over to my house and accidentally walked into Yumi's room, briefly forgetting which was mine.

Yumi was fourteen at the time. She had been so sweet with Sera. By the time I realised that Sera had gotten lost somewhere, she was already playing some sort of complex game that involved knots with Yumi.

I tried to join. I wasn't good with knots then. I'm better now, but I still struggle with complicated ones. Sera has always been so talented with her hands. She's always had such nimble fingers.

I finally tied a knot. Yumi couldn't untie it. Neither of our parents could untie it. Sera couldn't untie it. That memory has resulted in this sweet mental image. Of Yumi sitting on the floor of her room, her little sisters next to her, puzzling over a knot tied by the least competent one.

That mutual lack of understanding for how I created such a thing was a building block for their relationship. I don't quite remember what became of the knot. I believe I gave it to Sera.

Sera has always admired Yumi. Sera saw the way Yumi wore her hair and decided it was the most amazing thing she had ever seen. She mimicked Yumi in other, smaller ways that she still does to this day.

A little flick of the hand here, a tonal shift there. Sera saw how Yumi played with her hair when nervous and started doing it herself. She does it automatically now, pinching and rolling her blonde locks between her thumb and forefinger.

I absently run my hands through Sera's curls. My fingers snag on knots, and I hear Sera wince as I work them out. I groan.

"Sera, did you brush your hair this morning?"

Sera doesn't respond. She's pretending to be asleep. I know from experience that Sera takes at least ten minutes to fall asleep; it hasn't even been three. I sit up, Sera sliding down my chest, then sitting up as well.

Sera won't meet my eyes. I sigh and rub her face.

"You need to take care of yourself, Sera," I say, disappointed but not surprised. Sera tends to neglect things like this. Only small things, and she doesn't really resist, but she doesn't do them if she's not prompted.

Brushing her hair is a bad one. She almost never does it. I have to do it for her most of the time. Once, I didn't see her for four days because of an especially busy week for both of us.

It took me ten minutes to clean the accumulated grime off of her body and at least an hour to work the knots out of her hair. I scolded her the entire time for her forgetfulness. I wasn't surprised that her family didn't remind her, considering that her father and Seth were out fishing for a good three days. I assume Sera avoided them on day four.

"I know, Rumes. I'm sorry," she mumbles. "It's just... I didn't have the time this morning." Sera's excuse is flimsy. I stand up and walk over to my dresser, locating my hairbrush. I walk back over to my bed and sit down. Sera obediently turns to show me the back of her head.

I start to slowly run the brush through her tangled mop.

"I think we both know that isn't true, Sera." I'm not trying to be accusing. But I'm not trying to be nice.

Sera winces, both at the fact that I've caught her and because of the knot the brush has just caught on. It rips out a little of her hair as I work it through.

"I... It's..." Sera sighs. "It's a little hard, you get it?"

I don't. I really don't get it. Self-care has never given me any trouble, but I don't dare mention this to Sera. Telling Sera she's strange for not washing her face won't help her. Reminding her that she needs to do it will.

I've never been completely certain if her poor care of herself was because of her faulty memory or something else. I'd love to blame it on her memory, but Sera's general... erraticness is probably to blame.

She'll start tasks and forget about them entirely, she'll lose track of time, she'll forget to drink water... It's not really a surprise that she forgets important things anymore. She remembers to eat, at least. That removes some level of worry I have for her.

"Yes," I lie. This seems to reassure Sera. A part of her hair bounces back into shape as I finish pulling the brush through. I start again at my next chosen section, running my hands through what I've brushed. For a long time, there is no sound but our breathing and the soft, gentle noise of the brush through Sera's hair.

"You remembered to wash it. That's good," I say aloud, recalling its pleasant smell and softness when I hugged her earlier. I should have praised her then.

"Thank you," says Sera, a little uncertain. I regret speaking almost immediately.

Sera sighs and fidgets. Her other boot fell off at some point.

"You look like her, you know," she says quietly. I force the brush so hard through her hair it slightly yanks her head back. It was an accident. I hope.

"Sorry." There's a long silence.

"You really do, though. You look like Yumi," Sera finishes.

"Can we not talk about this, Sera?" I ask. Sera huffs.

"You can't just pretend she doesn't exist because she isn't around anymore," says Sera, more certain this time.

"I'm not," I respond levelly.

"Then w-w-why do you keep acting like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you never cared." I yank the brush suspended in Sera's hair.

"Hey, look at that. It's stuck," I say, letting go of it. It remains in Sera's hair. She reaches around to the back of her head and pulls it free, handing it back to me.

"Stop doing that, Rumi," she says, sounding like she's dealing with a small child.

"Doing what?" I ask, starting to brush Sera's hair again. Sera sighs.

"You know exactly w-w-what I'm talking about, Rumes. Don't change subjects to avoid things," she says. I don't avoid things. I'm not avoiding anything.

I voice this. Sera sighs again.

"You do, though, Rumes. You are. It's okay if you miss her. I do, too," says Sera. I finish brushing her hair and throw my hairbrush at my back wall. It thunks onto my dresser again.

"Can we just not, Sera?" Sera turns around to face me.

"I think w-w-we should, though," she says. I don't want to listen to her anymore. "I think w-w-we need to talk about her."

"We don't. There's nothing more we could say," I mutter.

"Rumi, you get so... distant. Around this time of year, you just avoid talking about her entirely."

"Have you ever thought that maybe I don't want to talk about a dead woman?" I snap.

"Yeah. Lots," Sera responds softly. "But you talk about her." I stiffen.

"You like to mention her from time to time, anyw-w-way," says Sera. "You joke about how Yumi w-w-would do this, Yumi w-w-would like that, blah blah blah."

I turn away from Sera, no longer enjoying this conversation.

"Rumes, you talk about her like she's just... aw-w-way," says Sera thoughtfully. "And I think that's good, I do, because -"

"Stop." Sera sighs softly.

"Rumes, can w-w-we just talk -"

"Stop."

"Rumi, it's not healthy to bottle these things up. If you don't w-w-want to talk now, that's fine, but -"

"I don't want to talk about it at all," I interject. "I don't need to, I don't want to, I won't. It's that simple." Sera needs to drop it. I'm fine. I'm acting normal. I always behave like this.

"She died for a good reason, okay? And I think w-w-we -"

"A good reason? You think it was good?" I interrupt. Sera looks startled.

"Rumes, that's not w-w-what I -"

"Oh? It's not w-w-w-w-what you m-m-m-eant?!" I shout, imitating her stammer.

"Rumi..." Sera's definitely upset. I've crossed a line. I don't care. Maybe she deserves it, just this once.

"Why don't we all just celebrate, huh?! 'Cause Yumi's dead! That's GREAT!"

"Rumi, just stop..." Sera mumbles.

"Sorry, you'll have to speak up! I can't hear you under all those extra letters!" I find the wound and tear it open.

"Rumi, w-w-w-why are you -"

"Oh, get to the point! How hard is it to talk?!" Sera flinches. She pinches the crooked part of her nose. She always does that when she gets self-conscious.

"Rumi, please just calm down," says Sera, voice gaining a pleading quality. I ignore this.

"Calm down?! You want me to calm down?!"

Sera's eyes start to water.

"Oh, don't you start crying AGAIN! You're so bloody emotional all the time!"

"You don't even have emotions!" she snaps back. Sera gets up off my bed.

"Maybe the reason you act like you don't care is because you really don't!" My sheets are pulled taught as I clench my hands. Sera angrily kicks her foot into one of her boots, looking for the other one. "Maybe you didn't cry at her funeral because you didn't love her!"

"Of course I loved her! She was my sister!" I shout, following Sera as I kick her boot from my bed into my wall. She snatches it off the floor and slams her foot into it.

"She w-w-was my sister, too!" Sera shoots back.

"No! No, she wasn't! Yumi was never your sister! No matter how close you think you were, you were never her sister!"

That's hurt her. She stops for a moment, tears threatening to start rolling down her cheeks.

"I loved her. Doesn't that mean something?" For just a moment, I feel a sliver of regret. It vanishes.

"Doesn't mean anything. You never meant anything to her," I snarl. This is untrue. Yumi did truly care about Sera. But now I just want to hurt her. Sera mumbles something.

"Huh? Speak up!" I demand. "You wanna say something? Say it to my face!"

"At least I'm not the reason she's dead," she says. There's utter silence.

"What?" Sera is completely crying now.

"At least," she repeats. "I'm not," she continues. "The reason she's dead."

"So you're saying it's my fault, then?"

Silence.

"N- no, I... No, I'm sorry. I got angry."

"No, I get it."

"Rumes, please, I didn't mean it. It w-w-wasn't your fault."

"It was, though. It's my fault. And it's always going to be my fault."

"It's not! I got angry! I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I've never been that angry before. I'm sorry. If it's any-w-w-one's fault, it's mine. I could've -"

"Just stop, Sera."

"Rumes..."

"You can go now, Sera."

"But -"

"You can go now, Sera. Go home. Say hi to Seth for me."

Sera nods. She tries to hug me. I gently push her away.

"I'm sorry, Rumes."

"So am I." Sera opens the door.

Sera hesitates, standing in the doorway.

"Yumi w-w-would have said you look nice."

The door closes.

#snowbird #snowbird chapter 2 #rumi erudite #sera kaishurr #yumi erudite #seth kaishurr #the hunger games #put the siblings in the tags this time because why not #i mean yumi is actually relevant #i dare you to guess how she died #ooh boy #chapter 2 #here it is wowza #i hope its as good as im told chapter 1 was

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