The sea has always been her home. Staring out at the cool, blue waves as they lap against the sandy shore, Annie Cresta can remember things. Beautiful things.
Sometimes she struggles to remember the name of something or someone, feeling the words hover just above her, just out of reach. If only she were a little taller, a little stronger. At these times, she retreats into her safe place, hoping to find solace in the beautiful things she can remember. The outside world can be so ugly, but Annie remembers such beautiful things. Maybe the words will come to her if she finds them. So she searches for them in their favorite hiding spots. Below the docks. In the hidden closet beneath Magsā staircase. In the top of the trees just outside of Victorās Village. In the dark library only she and Mags and Finnick visit, hidden among the books so old and yellow and worn that you can Ā s m e l l Ā the words falling from the pages.
But the ocean is different. She always remembers it. The feel of the warm waters rolling over her and the squish of the cool sand beneath her toes as she wades out waist high, her bare body tingling as the ocean caresses her. She doesnāt think of the time in the Arena. When she does, the image of Caspian is etched into her mind. His pleading brown eyes, calling out to her, begging her for help. The way his sandy blonde head rolled to her feet. No. No. No. No. Caves. Caves and swimming. So Ā m u c h Ā swimming. Annie remembers how she couldnāt move her limbs for days afterwards; her muscles tied themselves into sore, aching knots. She couldnāt sleep for weeks for fear of waking up in the caves again. Or drowning.
No, she didnāt think of the arena or the Hunger Games or Caspian or the Capitol or any of those ugly things. When she stared out at the water, she remembers her parents. Her mother was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She was tall and bright with warm skin kissed by the sun. Unlike most of the District Four girls with their sandy blonde hair and chocolate eyes, her mother had eyes as blue as the sea that sparkled like sapphires and rich dark skin and an auburn mane that was a mess of brown and red curls toppling down her shoulders and shining like rich mahogany in the sunlight. Her name was Odette Pearl. A fitting name for a girl who was as radiant as a treasure of the sea. Mags tells her that she looks like her mother, but Annie remembers that she resembles her father.
He was a tall man; tall and broad with calloused hands from his years pulling in nets full of fish and a wrinkled brow from squinting against the bright sun shimmering off the waves. His smile was big and warm and welcoming and he smelled of sea salt and sunlight. He had sandy brown hair and eyes of sea green that reminded Annie of the polished sea glass she collected from the tangles of seaweed that tossed about the shoreline. He was strong and proud with a hearty laugh and a hearty smile and a hearty way of life. Although she had her motherās hair, she had her fatherās everything else. His eyes. His smile. His quiet, determined manner. Her mother often told her that she loved her father so much, she couldnāt bare the thought of them parting, so they made Annie, and she prayed to the Gods that she would be crafted just as her father. āCedric Cresta is the second greatest thing to happen to my life. I love him more than the sea and the sun,ā she would coo, curling the small girl into her lap and stroking her russet curls. āThe only thing we love more than each other is you, our little Anemone, you are the greatest treasure we ever had.ā
She remembers her first trips to the ocean. Her parents took care to introduce her to the warm blue waves, each gripping tightly to her small hands as the tiny girl danced around the sea foam, frolicking in the shallow waters. Annie had been like a fish in the tub, able to hold her breath much longer than expected- to the shock and joy of her parents- but the ocean was different. It was big and blue and it consumed people as easily as it kissed the shoreline. She grew to appreciate the sea. To respect it and fear it.
Annie remembers the stories her family would read together. Her mother would illustrate the most elaborate scenery on her giant wooden canvas or in the scraps of paper she kept stashed beneath her bed for when inspiration struck. There were at least a Ā h u n d r e d Ā paintings of her father. And the sea. Her father would pull out his small lute, humming and singing a tune, telling the story of Gods and Goddesses, Poseidon and sea creatures, lovers and fighters. These stories were all ones in the old books they kept hidden and Annie knew she couldnāt tell these stories to anyone else. They were a secret, one the Capitol didnāt like. Why anyone wouldnāt love such tales of wonder and adventure was unfathomable to the young girl, but she loved the tales and loved her parents, so she kept these beautiful memories to herself. Every once in a while, their family would join with others. It was a secret, these special meetings. It would be in the old attic of someoneās house or a long abandoned cove or the deep, depths of the trees that people rarely ventured into. They would share whispers over sweet summer marmalade and crackling fires, reveling in the stories of heroes and monsters.
She remembers the Reaping, although she wishes she didnāt. When little Briny Yarrowās name was called, her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. Her eyes cut to the career trainees in her year. It was there last chance to volunteer, yet they acted as if they hadnāt heard the tiny, little thirteen year old girlās name being called. District Four was known for its Careers, and since the victory of Finnick Odair, tributes had been scrambling for their spot, hoping to attain the same fame and glory as the fourteen year old had done just five years before. Who would be the next Victor? The Capitol Champion? Their name plastered in lights and their body showered in gold and glory? No such volunteer came forward. Before she realized it, Annie was stepping forward, volunteering for the girl. Their families had been close, years ago. She remembered exchanging stories in the dark of night, back before everything was different. They lost their father in the accident, her and Wade and their other brothers and sisters, the same as she had. She couldnāt let them watch her die while all of Panem Ā c h e e r e d .
Before the shock could settle in, her partner was called, and Caspian ambled to the stage. He was a Career trainee with warm brown eyes and sandy blonde hair. He was almost two heads taller than her and could probably lift her weight with just one of his sculpted arms. Annie remembers thinking that this is a good thing. District Four will have a good chance. Caspian will surely win. He is kind to her, surprisingly, and he says that he thinks she is brave for what she did. She remembers the way he smiles at her.
Annie remembers a lot from the Games and her time in the Arena. She tries desperately to forget.
Sometimes, Annie is able to remember the beautiful sketches of her mother, or even the sound of her father voice, singing and playing beautiful tunes, spinning a web of beautiful tales. She can remember Great Aunt Coralās clambake and the feel of her favorite cotton dress. She can remember that the sound of the ocean can be heard in even the Ā t i n i e s t Ā seashells and that the best sea glass has been polished by the roughest currents for years. She can remember the taste of District Four bread and that Oceanus was the sea itself, but she couldnāt tell anyone that secret.
Sometimes, she can remember the name of her friends, and her love. She can remember who she is, where she is, what she is. Sometimes she canāt. She canāt remember if she kissed her mother goodbye that morning or the last time she saw her father, Ā r e a l l y Ā saw him, alive and happy and before the mess that untangled the fabric of their lives. She canāt remember how her mother smells or what her fatherās favorite fish was. She canāt remember her favorite color or how it felt to have her first kiss. She canāt remember the first time she stepped into the ocean or or what her favorite marmalade tastes like or if she ever got to tell Caspian thank you for believing in her.
Sometimes, she canāt remember her own name. Ā But the Capitol- they never forget.
snowghoul
tangentwithtanner
origamiaround
theartofmadeline
jacobvanloon
gummygunk
romaincrisis
baratheonpilled
pixelskylines
