How peaceful. ((Open!))

Picture this: Blood. Blood on the hands of a 15-year-old girl. This girl has long brown hair and (quite worried) brown eyes. She's trembling and rubbing her hands together. The water hurts her raw skin, but it's just a compulsion for her to keep rubbing. She's scared, she's hurt, and most of all, she's regretful.

But why?

That girl is Monica Amorette d'Alcy. She suffers with herself on a daily basis. But again, why? It's because her life is harder than a lot of people who live in District 2; not many of them are diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Tourette Syndrome. But Monica, or Mollie, as she likes to be called, is.

Yes, it was difficult. To have hardly any control of yourself from time to time could really get to a person's head. Mollie often wondered if she was slowly becoming insane. It wasn't out of the question, and she honestly didn't mind. A quote from one of her favorite stories reassured her, "You're entirely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are."

Mollie had been washing her hands for thirty minutes. They just didn't feel clean enough after the first minute or so, so she went a little bit overboard. Finally, she turned off the water and dried her hands. Unfortunately, they were raw and very, very painful by that time.

"Mollie," Her mother called in from the den. "You're wasting the water."

"No, I'm not," Mollie called back. "I--I'm done." And she slipped out the door to avoid having to explain.

Immediately, she trotted into the woods.

"Missy!" Monica called. "Missy, where are you?" Missy was 'her' kitten. The cat didn't actually belong to her, but she didn't belong to anyone else either. Sure enough, a little grey kitten came scampering towards her. Mollie bent down and stroked the kitten's back. Mollie sat in a tiny clearing with the purring kitten in her lap.

How peaceful it was.

It wasn’t often that Jonathon found himself waking up later than his father. The labour the previous day, and of course the training, had left the boy tired, and he was told off for waking up so late. His father stood in the centre of an average sized room.

“And what time do you call this!?” Jonathon was pressed his hands together before giving a glare at his father.

“Look, I’m sorry.” The temptation to punch his father right in the face there and then was too much, and Jonathon was pleasantly surprised that he didn’t go and hit him. It wouldn’t help anything. After all, the ‘hard boy becoming a man’ had to be wary about his actions these days. Plus Jonathon didn’t have to bear looking at his father’s face for too long. He was sent outside quickly. His father argued, mostly with himself as Jonathon didn’t bother to listen. The boy had sighed deeply before slamming the door shut and kicking a stone on the ground. He turned his head back around and he could not see any sign of his father, nor could he hear anything. So he stormed off.

He was going to go and do some exercise, even though Jonathon knew that the main reason he had been late getting up was due to his training, he didn’t care. It was the one thing that cleared his mind. He walked at an average pace, but he reached the woods rather quickly. He gave a brief glance backward to make sure no one was following him, and then moved into the woods. He was heading towards the little hill were he did his training. It was mostly un-touched by others. However, it was in a surprisingly easy place to find, hence why Jonathon had stumbled on it all those years ago.

As he arrived in the hill, he rolled up his sleeves, and then went down to the ground, his body in the ‘push up’ position. He then started his exercise. It wasn’t all that hard, his arms went down, then up again, he repeated it quite a few times, until his arms ached. Then he stretched. Bringing himself back up to his feet he sighed quietly and wiped the small amount of sweat from his forehead. It was at this moment that he heard a call. He couldn’t make it out completely, but he heard ‘Missy’. Jonathon paused then exhaled and walked over to the source of the noise. He saw a girl with a grey cat, and he creased his brow, it was probably one of the oddest things he had seen, in a very long time.

At that moment Jonathon stepped into the girls view, “What on Earth are you doing?” He said inquisitively, his brow still creased. He noticed her hands were raw and he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, though not in anger, but in curiosity.

((Haha, we are finally RPing Carly. ))

((Yesss! This is long overdue. XDD))

Mollie almost had a heart attack when she heard someone's voice. It shattered her lovely silence which she was so greatly enjoying.
“What on Earth are you doing?” It was a boy who was several years older than Mollie, by the looks of it. At the sound of the boy's voice, Missy scattered. She shot behind a tree. What a timid cat! Mollie thought. She stood up and frowned at the boy.

"Now look what you did," Mollie rubbed her hands together a bit. "You've scared her." She sighed and crossed her arms as she looked behind her. She saw two pointy cat ears poking out from behind a tree. Slowly, the kitten's face re-emerged. What had the boy asked her again? Right.

"Also, what does it look like I'm doing?" Mollie questioned as she continued to rub her hands together. The more she did this, the more she realized she was probably drawing attention to them. She really didn't want to be asked about them. She hid her hands behind her back. "I was just petting the cat; her name's Missy, by the way. And my name's Mollie."

Just then, Missy came trotting back over to them. Maybe she realized that the boy wasn't a threat. However, Mollie wasn't entirely sure about that herself. She picked the kitten up and listened to her calm purring as she waited for the older boy to respond. He didn't have any business bothering them anyway.

Jonathon rolled his eyes as the cat ran off, and then looked over his shoulder and sighed. He could ell that this was going to turn into an odd conversation, and Jonathon didn’t like odd conversations...at all. The boy folded his arms and squinted with his right eye as the girl retrieved the cat. “Well sorry.” He said half gruntingly, though mainly un-amused. As the girl questioned his question he gave her a look of slight hate, though it wiped quickly as she continued to talk. She introduced herself, as you did, and she also introduced the cat, ‘Missy’. Jonathon was, at first, reluctant to answer. He kept his arms folded for the most part and looked at her, the birds sung in the trees, though Jonathon blatantly ignored their calls.

He took this time to look at the girl, Mollie. She was smaller than he was; pretty much every teenager in District 2 was smaller than him. Or at least he hadn’t come across someone quite as big, though some of the adults were notably bigger. This did not matter though; he picked up on her hands again, though he quickly averted his gaze elsewhere to avoid making eye contact with her. “Well-“ He began, shifting his folded arms into a more comfortable position, at his sides. “-I’m Jonathon, nice to...meet you I suppose.” He wasn’t sincere this time. He didn’t come across as rude however. His feet shuffled backwards slightly. “I heard you coming, so I stopped my training for you, count yourself lucky.” He said with a small gritting of his teeth. Half of the boy was joking; the other half was completely serious.

No one had ever found his hill before, and he didn’t want anyone to know about it, for fear that they would continue to bother him. It was his place, no one else’s. He had been coming here for the most part of his life, since the age of thirteen. He didn’t come to the hill that much anymore; he had no chance of being picked for the Reaping. He was Eighteen now, he had never been picked out, and he highly doubted he would be picked again. Despite this, Jonathon decided that the odd training was required to remain fit. It gave him a wonderful excuse to get away from his father, the one who had edged him into training, after all, both of his parents had been obsessed with the Games, now though, his father complained when Jonathon didn’t do the jobs he was supposed to do. Jonathon, and probably most others would agree with him, thought it was really bad logic. His mother’s death hadn’t had that big an effect on his father had it? If it was true then Jonathon refused to believe it.

The boy didn’t really see this girl as completely sane, it sounded harsh, but it was what Jonathon truly thought. The dry hands clenching a cat...it was a fairly odd sight. He creased his brow and took a step back when the she scooped up the cat, “Uhm, don’t take this the wrong way-“ A pause interrupted Jonathon as he tried to remember her name, ”-Mollie, ... but what is up with your hands?"

"Well sorry."

Mollie glared at him again. Of course, that 'sorry' meant nothing. She could tell he didn't mean it. Mollie tended to overreact, so she was quite close to yelling at him--but even that wouldn't have been entirely her fault anyway. She had Tourettes to blame for her random outbursts.

"Right then," Monica replied, staring at the ground. Neither of them said anything for several moments.
“-I’m Jonathon, nice to...meet you I suppose.” The boy said at last. She looked back up and him and gave him the tiniest of smiles.
"Nice to meet you too, I suppose," She half-mimicked him by accident and quickly placed her hand over her mouth. Darn outbursts. Darn Tourettes. Darn OCD. Darn everything that sometimes made Mollie feel isolated from her peers. Not that she wanted to blend in completely; how boring would that be? But if she were going to stand out, it should at least be for something that she had control over.

After having that tiny argument with herself in her head, Jonathon resumed speaking.
“I heard you coming, so I stopped my training for you, count yourself lucky.” Is what he said. Mollie wasn't sure whether to grin again, or be slightly offended. What--did he think she was weak or something? Probably not, Mollie concluded eventually. Maybe he was just arrogant. She couldn't quite tell at this point.
"Oh yes, I very much appreciate that..." She said. It was partially sarcastic, but she was glad that the boy hadn't come at her with a weapon of some sort.

That was when Jonathan asked the question that Mollie had been dreading. She had hoped he wouldn't ask.
“Uhm, don’t take this the wrong way--Mollie, ... but what is up with your hands?" Monica stood frozen to the spot for a moment, staring blankly ahead of her as if she hadn't heard him. With a reluctant sigh, she put Missy back down on the ground and looked at her own hands.
"I--" She began. What should she say, anyway? "I was j-just washing them..." She took a deep breath, but she hadn't intended on continuing the sentence. "I was washing them. That's all. And th-they got a little... raw a-and even started to bleed..."