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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Aug 30, 2019 21:34:58 GMT -5
We’ve always been a group of friends. Me, Burton, Maddie, Everest, Ari, Halina, Arlo and Macaria. So when Halina went missing, and assumed dead by those aboard the OASIS, naturally me and my friends responded darkly to this.
I mean, how could it be true that Halina was dead? She was the baby of our group, and while our group didn’t always get along(and I kind of tagged along, only getting along with a few at first), I came to see them as family, a family I didn’t have.
Macaria was the same as me. At least, to this degree she was.
But now weird things were happening to my friends. Really weird things. And with the stress of Halina being gone, I felt as if I’d break into thousands of shards. She was my friend, one of the closest I had.
Whenever the OASIS was attacked, my friends all projected these odd abilities, and I noted them all. Macaria seemed to have a strange ability to deflect and move metal, Alessandro possessed some kind of enhanced strength, Everest had an ability over light, Amadrya had one with detecting presences and mindreading on contact, and Ari seemed to shift certain parts of his body(making himself smaller, forming his hand to stretch). Even Burton, my rather close friend, had an ability of charm and illusions. I possessed none, nothing seemed amiss with me.
That was, until we reached Saturn, and when we did, things went downhill. It was days, maybe a week at most, before our little party was attacked.
I saw it before Macaria did, and I put myself between to explosion and her.
A mine, resting idly on the ground, set on the outskirts, near our little ship Ari and Everest built. Macaria had kicked a rock that had set it off.
She was injured, of course, but the ricochet killed me on contact.
And my power made it’s emergence at that point.
—
“Holly!?” a voice frantically called my name, and I could hear the sob after moments of darkness.
I felt cold, doused in water, pain radiated softly off my body, before I took a giant inhale of breath, raising myself up with heavy gasps of air.
A scream of panic escaped Amadrya, who had her fingers on my neck and lunged backwards, tears were running down her cheeks, and I noticed numbly that everyone else was staring at me in horror.
And then Amadrya hugged me, and I growled slightly, pain heavy in my chest. She backed away, and I looked at my chest in attempt to find what caused the pain.
I promptly screamed as I spotted the shrapnel, a shard of metal embedded inside my chest, and noticed with alarm that it was poking all the way through to my back, something I could tell from the shadow of myself.
“Get it out!” I screamed, the pain increasing, “Get it out, get it out!”
Macaria ran forward, using her abilities to get the metal out, and I stood up promptly, staring at the blood around my in alarm.
“I should be dead,” I noted, backing up.
“You should be,” Macaria softly agreed, and I glared at her. She winced, “I mean, the wound realistically should have killed you.” She corrected.
“How the hell am I alive!?” I finally questioned.
“You-I Don’t know. For a minute or so, you had no heartbeat, and that definitely stabbed through your chest.” Amadrya commented.
Burton frowned deeply, “It’s not healing though? How are you alive.”
I was shaking, scared to death, before looking down, before grinning and jumping up suddenly with a scream of happiness, “I do have a power!”
Okay, so what, I was excited.
The only downside?
I healed faster than most, but fatal wounds still took days to heal.
My power wasn’t dying and coming back, it was a type of invincibility. I could still get wounded, but it would heal faster. Fatal wounds knocked me out, and my heartbeat would seem to stop, but I would come back soon, never truly dying(but kind of?).
I mean, it sucked still because it hurt a lot, but hey.
at least I couldn’t die.
(I didn’t have as much muse for this oops.)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Aug 31, 2019 1:30:24 GMT -5
(Aww thank you I’m glad you liked it! And don’t worry there’s no pressure with the fic x I’m here if you need me but other than that take all the time you need to work on it x
Nah don’t worry I’m not annoyed of you writing with Holly she’s like my favourite character x I’m trying to write with as many of mine as possible but I know I use Maddie an awful lot so I hope you guys aren’t bored of her XD
That OASIS one was so good I loved it!)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Aug 31, 2019 1:48:49 GMT -5
(HAPPY BIRTHDAY!)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Aug 31, 2019 2:17:00 GMT -5
Thank you! Xx)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Aug 31, 2019 15:30:15 GMT -5
I may or may not be a small bit tipsy XD
I still plan on doing some writing though once I’ve got my makeup off and I’m ready for bed)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Aug 31, 2019 15:36:36 GMT -5
(Oh yes.
You can drink now.(
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Aug 31, 2019 15:41:37 GMT -5
Yeah XD but I have quickly learned that this does not mean I should)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Aug 31, 2019 17:17:15 GMT -5
I am in my quarters in the rebel base when there’s a knock on the door. Which is strange because unless there’s something going on and I’m needed the rebels often don’t bother me like this. Assuming that it must be important, then, I rise to my feet and open the door to see Diana standing on the other side. Her expression is unreadable, but she doesn’t look concerned or anything, which is a good sign I guess.
“What’s going on?” I ask “is there a mission or something?”
“Not exactly,” Diana says with a shake of her head “I probably can’t explain this to you here. You’ll have to come and see for yourself.”
She gestures out into the hallways and, concerned and a little bit worried, I step out of the room. I haven’t the slightest idea what could be going on here at all. We walk in silence for a few moments, me not daring to ask and Diana obviously thinking better of explaining anything to me until we get there.
We head to another room, and Diana enters, holding open the door to the room for me to follow. What I see in there is enough to make me stop in my tracks.
A woman in her early twenties stands before me. She is taller than me, for sure, and has olive skin. Her hair is darker, a slightly richer shade of brown and incredibly shiny. She even holds herself straighter than I do. Her eyes are not like mine, since she doesn’t have central heterochromia like me; her eyes are a pure green and very striking, especially with the couple of flecks of amber and gold. Otherwise, it could be like looking in the mirror. Her eyes scan me in exactly the same way I do with others. Her gaze is sharp and perceptive like mine, if not more so. She doesn’t move for a moment, and neither do I. It’s like the moment where a predator and its prey see one another, and there is a moment where neither move before the chase begins.
The rebels tracked her down? What? How is she here? She can’t be
“Lucasta?” I ask in shock
“Macaria,” Lucasta says with a smile “it’s me. I can’t believe I’m seeing you right now. I saw you in the Games and I-“
She steps closer, and instantly I step back. My expression contorts into one of anger.
“What the hell are you doing here? You were dead!”
“I survived,” Lucasta explained “our mother died but I realised that somehow I was recovering. Everyone in the quarantined part of the district knew I was ill, but I never told anyone I was getting better because I knew I had a chance to get away from everything. When I snuck you out of the quarantined area of the district, I didn’t go back in. I just ran, snuck onto a train transporting peacekeepers to District 4. I’ve lived there ever since, mainly living just outside the district borders and surviving using the academy training. Stealing food, hiding to avoid the Hunger Games; I wasn’t on any records but if they’d caught me they’d have either realised I was a runaway or put me into the reaping or something. I knew they’d kill me if they found out I’d escaped my district. But I knew I could never have survived in District 2 either. I’d have died if I’d stayed I’m the quarantined area and they’d think I was infected if they caught me anywhere else and they’d kill me to stop the infection from spreading.”
“So... to sum that ridiculous explanation up in four words, you lied to me,” I say coldly
“You would have gotten the disease and died!” Lucasta insisted “I got you out of there!”
“You abandoned me!” I shout, tears falling now, “I was seven years old and you left me homeless, without food or water, to be brought up in the academy? You could have taken me with you.”
“You were seven, you would have given everything away,” Lucasta said gently “and I didn’t want to risk possibly giving you the disease.”
“Bullshit,” I snap “I can’t believe you were even able to say that to my face. Listen to me, Lucasta. I don’t care that you’re here, I don’t know why you seem to suddenly want to play big sister. Stay here, be safe from the Capitol, by all means. I wouldn’t want to waste the effort the rebels went to tracking you down. But don’t pretend you cared or that you were anything less than selfish, wanting to avoid ever having to go through the reapings or raising a sister. Just stay the hell out of my way.”
I fix her with a glare, and turn, stalking into the hallways
——————————
It’s not long after my exchange with Lucasta, and I’ve headed straight to the training room, where I’m throwing knives at a target in front of me - and of course, I never miss. Whenever I’m hurting, training is the only thing that helps. The academy trained me to not give away emotion or vulnerability, and training helps me get into that mindset again. Cold, calculating, powerful. I need to be in Career mode, it’s the only way I can deal with things without breaking. It’s my armour.
But I hear footsteps behind me just when I’m about to let loose another throw, and I turn to see Holly. The black-haired girl strides over to stand beside me, me still with the knife in my hand. Holly fixes her eyes on the target rather than ion me as she speaks.
“I heard about what happened with your sister.” Holly states simply
“Diana told Burton and he blabbed, huh?” I ask - which is usually what happens with these things.
“You’d think, but no.” Holly replies thoughtfully “Halina was eavesdropping.”
Of course she was.
“Why are you here?” I ask impatiently “I won’t talk to her, so you’d better not ask me to.”
“Not going to,” Holly responds “believe me, I know your situation. But what I will say is maybe just think about it, huh? Make sure you’re not throwing away something good. I mean, where’s the betrayal here? She saved your life, and when she ran she only did what we’ve all thought of doing at least once.”
I throw the knife in holding, watching as it lands dead center. Then I look over to Holly, thinking for a moment about how to respond. She makes good points, but she doesn’t really understand my situation at all.
“You don’t know District 2,” I explain, “I hate her because she left me to be raised in the academy, and I was only seven. The academy destroyed me, Holly. It made me a better fighter but it took away everything that was me, it turned me into an emotionless robot and, worse, a vicious killer. Do you realise that before that happened I used to play piano? I used cry when the flowers my mother kept in vases died, I used to be a sweet, creative little girl. I could have been million other things rather than a soldier or masonry worker or a tribute. I owe it to that little girl to take the Capitol down and to stay away from Lucasta. I lost my identity when I was a little kid, and here with the rebels I finally have a chance to figure out it out again.”
I throw one more knife, watching numbly as it hits its target.
“I won’t let her take it away again.”
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Aug 31, 2019 17:30:48 GMT -5
(I love it!)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Aug 31, 2019 17:56:40 GMT -5
(Hehe I’m just kind of experimenting with a few different concepts that are obviously not canon to the fic or anything else  I’m glad you liked it. I just wanted to explore the idea of Macaria coping with something like that, and it is definitely kind of a mini bonding moment for Macaria and Holly, which I may write more about. Canonically Lucasta is dead, unless of course people prefer the idea of her being alive honestly I don’t mind XD Create whatever canon you like in your head |
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Aug 31, 2019 18:51:05 GMT -5
(I feel this is something you guys may have wanted to see...
So here it is ;3.)
I woke up, calm, gentle and felt well rested, more so than I had in close to half of a year now.
The games, 5 and a half months ago, they had started, taking about 17 days to be completed and for us to escape, and then 5 months held by the Capital.
But in registered then that the room I was in was not indeed black, dark, grey and cold like my cell, but a light and com shade of blue instead, unlike the horrifying hospital room I had to stay in after I was shot. Torture gadgets were always within my sight, but withheld from glass windows, a looming threat of pain. The room itself contained uncleared blood, and metal everywhere, slightly rusted. The one I had just awoke in, however, was much calmer.
The next thing I took in, was a pain in my head, and a soft grunt escaped me as I rolled, more pain erupting from my chest as I started coughing violently, nausea overcoming me as someone(who?) passed me something to throw up in. The plastic bag was taken away soon, but the pain radiated still, and the feeling was radiating off me in waves.
I gazed up, happy to see familiar faces. Everest and Amadrya sat beside my bed, staring at me in fatigued happiness.
Everest called out, “She’s awake!”, but I only winced and closed my eyes, bringing my hands up to cover my ears. The wound hurt, piercing like a hot knife though my head.
Amadrya reached forward, hugging my softly, and I hummed in content for a moment. If it was a dream, at least it was peaceful.
Then multiple figures came in, Macaria and Burton leading them, and I shakily stood, despite the pain it brought. I looked rather skinny, glancing down for a moment, and cuts lashed my skin. I rushed forward however, hugging Burton as he came closer, and casting Macaria an uncertain look.
Then again, she did try to kill me.
—
That night, I was led to by quarters by Diana, and caught up on what I would need, however, when she visited me that night, she came with a visitor.
I was just settling in, amazed by how they fit the room to my personality, and to District 8. The room was painted a dark grey, with white splatters cascaded on the cieling(like stars), and a large spacious area, with a bed that had a latter going up to it and a plush mattress that seemed to float midair(despite the supports bellow it). It was comfy, and I was sitting on it, feeling like I was hidden due to the darkness around me, as I stared forward, my legs dangling off, as I stared forward.
A soft knock came, and I blinked out of my reverie, staring up, “Come in,” I commented, already becoming accustomed to Diana’s knocking, a soft tap that sounded like the carpenters of District 8 working.
Yet it was offputting to hear the whispers, undetectable, outside my door, and moments later, after they hushed, Diana came in, I still felt hidden, the light cascading against my pale skin, as I stared down at her, my legs rested over the lowered guard(so I didn’t fall off the bed when I slept, but right now I had no use for it, so it was down), but I was disconcerted by her expression.
“Hello, Diana, what is going on?” I didn’t mince my words, ever. Idly, I kicked my feet, forcing my casual smirk on my face, “Or are you just here to bask in my presence?”
She ignored my comment, as I expected, and walked forward slightly, “There’s someone that we want you to talk to,” the expression she wore caused my stomach to knot, a bad feeling already building in my chest, but I waited, glancing back and taking note of the shadow filtering from the hidden person behind the door.
“Who is it?” I asked curtly, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Diana?” The person outside asked, and I froze, swinging my head in that direction with speed, before growling deeply, glaring forward, “Can I come in?”
Diana sighed, noticing my expression, but I was already jumping off the bed, about a 5 foot drop, landing on all four limbs before standing up, “No!” I yelled at the door, before glaring at her, “Why is he here?”
Her expression remained calm, staring at me in an unwavering manner, “We saved the family of the tributes when you all escaped the Arena, even the families of the tributes that died that day. Anyone who had a chance of joining the rebellion, their family’s were taken in and rescued before Louden could target them.” I didn’t care for her words. “That included your father.”
The man in questioned walked in, and I backed up, frantic, before stopping, glaring at him. His only response was a “Hello, daughter.”
“Not anymore!” I lowly said, stalking forward, but he remained stoic like he always did, proud and tall.
“You can’t change the facts, Holly. You are my daughter by blood, and thus you are my daughter at any time.” He commented, “You don’t get to pick and choose when.”
I found my anger boiling, but I kept calm, a angry laugh escaping me, “Oh, like you got to pick and choose when you would stay, be a father?” I questioned, before pushing him back harshly, “I’m not your daughter, your not my father. Family means sticking together, not leaving when things get rough!” I barked, and I didn’t care when he seemed to flinch a bit, Diana remained by the door still, looking at my room instead of us, but I didn’t care. “A father is supposed to care and love, not abandon, he’s not supposed to leave his daughter in the middle of the night, wondering if he’s dead or alive, worrying about him daily and contemplating about who even cares because he left with just a dumb note!” She was on the verge of tears, her throat felt raw.
“Holly, it doesn’t have to be so dramatic, all kind of children are-“ He started, raising his hands in defense. And he stopped, wincing at me, a smaller figure than him, whose eye was twitching.
“What? All kinds of children are what?” I asked sweetly, before pointing at him, mapping at him with my finger with every new example, “Abandoned?” I guessed, poking, “Broken? Left alone to die? Left alone with nothing?”
He huffed, “You were plenty capable of surviving on your own, look at you. Your a strong, healthy-“ he stopped as my cold gaze narrowed.
“Capable of surviving? I lost my mother and father, I lost my job because they didn’t want to be accountable for me, I was struggling to sustain a broken home with only a cat as my companion,” Catastrophe meowed at me from her little bed, perched right beside mine, another thing I loved about the room. It was designed with my cat in mind, ledges for her to climb, abstract and perfect for the two of us. Burton’s sisters took great care of her for me. “I’ve been pushed around, hunted, and tortured, and I had to do it all alone.”
“Holly, please, calm down, I want to explain this. I left because I couldn’t handle the stress, your mother dead, you would have been worse with me there.” He started, the stoic behavior giving way some.
But I wasn’t having it, staring coldly at Diana, and then him, before pointing at my door.
A simple two words, and a deadly glare I gave.
“Get out.”
He stared at me, frowning, “Wait-listen!”
“No, you didn’t care about me when I was a child, you left, leaving me to die, you didn’t care when I was reaped, you never visited that night even though you had to have known wherever you were, and you used my status as an escapee to get safety, you claim your family but your not. While you went off wallowing and feeling sorry for yourself, I raised myself, while you used my pain for your safety. I experienced torture while you got to sit here, safe and comfy. And you aren’t allowed in my room or around me.”
He gaped, but I pointed again.
“Get out of my room now, before I call Macaria and Alessandro and let them get you out,” I threatened, and Diana slipped out quickly, shaking her head to me in understanding.
“You’re really going to refuse to talk to me?”
“I owe you nothing, and you owe me everything. If I request it, you shall follow. You taught me never to owe another, so as such goes, get out of my room and leave me alone.”
He nodded, turning, and I slammed the door shut after he left, staring back at Catastrophe as she meowed at me.
“Yeah, we’re going to get another kitty soon,” I hummed petting her behind her ears, “It’s about time you had more friends than just me. Let’s just hope you’ll never have to fight them to the death to do so.” I joked, but it was dry, and I scooped her up quickly, sobs vertaking my body.
It was painful, but sometimes forgetting was better than forgiving, because at least when you forget, the pain can fade. Even if the phrase went Forgive and Forget, or even Forgive and Not Forget, I couldn’t follow that logic.
Some things couldn’t be forgiven.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Aug 31, 2019 23:41:04 GMT -5
That was so good!
I’m planning a young Macaria flashback and I also have a couple other ideas I might do first)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 1, 2019 9:45:27 GMT -5
There is no darkness but ignorance
Pascal didn't know how many days it had been since he killed Elias. He'd been moving very slowly around the Arena, what with his injuries, and the days seemed to blend even with the anthem every night and the images of the fallen tributes.
His injuries, he assessed, weren't looking great. He'd lost an ear, and he had huge gashes around his stomach area. He'd tried to bind them with whatever materials he had available and had been applying the antiseptic cream gifted to him by sponsors. Clearly the sympathy vote carried enough weight to perhaps keep him alive a little longer. Pascal wished it wouldn't; he had been wracked with guilt over killing Elias, who was so young. He'd been good friends with the other boy, too. But he had only tried to honour the other boy's wishes, as part of the agreement they'd made when his sister wasn't looking. Still, he was a murderer now. He didn't think he deserved to survive these Games anymore, and what was more he just wanted the pain to be over. He didn't want to be afraid and hurting.
The only thing keeping him moving around the Arena any more was the knowledge that Mallory was still out there, as well as Jensyn. Ideally, he'd want his sister to move on and focus on winning the Games, but in reality Pascal knew she'd be looking for him and she wouldn't stop until either he was killed or she was. He had to find her, if only to stop her worrying. And he missed her, anyway. She was his sister, and he was scared and hurt and on his own. Of course he wanted to find her.
He'd been following the markings the two girls had been carving on the walls of the maze, then carving the numbers corresponding to the first letters of his own name underneath it, in the hope that if they circled back they'd see he had been there. But he couldn't move quickly or far with his injuries and he knew Mallory and Jensyn would probably have to keep moving, rather than doubling back. Still, he wouldn't stop looking.
He was just walking through the Arena, carefully checking for new markings on the walls, when he heard footsteps. Lots of them. The careers. And they were coming from both sides, which meant they had split up and were hunting. He couldn't escape without running into them. Instinctively, then, he hurried as fast as his injuries would allow into a little dead-end area. There was a chance they wouldn't notice him here.
But he had to leave a message in case Mallory or Jensyn came this way. Quickly he pulled out his knife and, while the careers made their way towards his location, he scratched out a code on the wall.
'16 - 03011805051819'
Just the first letter of his name at the beginning of the message would be enough to let them know it was him. The word 'careers' was all he needed to describe this situation. If he died, at least they'd know this was where the careers hunted. If he lived, they'd know he was here and had run into trouble.
He only just had time to put his knife away again before he heard a voice nearby. It was male, sounded like Felix.
"I'm sure I heard something," he was saying
A female voice responded in a questioning tone - Kora. And she was addressing Hagan.
"Hagan, did you see anyone go past you?"
"Don't you think you'd know if I had?" Hagan replied
"Then whoever it is, they're still here somewhere. Let's check over there."
That was when the footsteps started to approach, and Pascal's hand reached for the handle of his knife. He wasn't going to get out of this, at least not uninjured, and he knew the knife would be useless, but he had to do something. He couldn't just stand there doing nothing.
And then three shadowy figures stood at the other side of the dead end. Hagan had come from the left side, Kora and Felix from the other, all with weapons drawn. They all stopped when they saw him, but it was Kora who stepped forward first, assessing Pascal for a moment.
"It's the 3 boy, the little brother," she murmured, half surprised, half thoughtful, "and he looks pretty hurt."
She took another step closer, and Pascal raised his blade higher, more as a show of defiance than any kind of threat. Realistically he'd be dead before any blow he attempted even touched Kora. The career girl couldn't help but laugh at that image.
"That's actually kind of cute, in a pathetic way," Kora smirked "Put your knife down, Three, it's going to do nothing for you. You hardly know how to use it and you're outnumbered three to one. There you go, much better."
"Kora, he's a little kid," Hagan was saying "if you're going to kill him just do it quickly and stop messing with him. He's got the sympathy vote, if you torture him too much the sponsors will hate you."
Kora rolled her eyes and leaned towards Pascal in a mock conspiratorial fashion.
"He's such a buzzkill."
But then she looked him over again, and she seemed to be considering Hagan's words.
"I don't think killing him will be necessary, not for now anyway. We've been after his little alliance ever since they fought us at the bloodbath, and he's the girl's only weakness. She'll search for him relentlessly, get desperate, make herself vulnerable. I think we could use this boy to get rid of that little alliance. It's been a thorn in our side from the beginning."
Felix and Hagan looked suitably astonished by this plan, and it was Felix who spoke up.
"You want us to waste resources keeping this kid alive on the off-chance his sister will come looking for him? How do you even know she'll ever find out we took him?"
Then it was Pascal's turn to roll his eyes, as he fixed his gaze on Felix.
"You're dumber than you look," Pascal scoffed "you really couldn't figure it out? This is the Hunger Games, it's broadcast to all of Panem, and it's the Gamemakers' jobs to keep it interesting, and to make sure people keep dying. This is an intriguing storyline from the point of view of the audience, so the Gamemakers will want to make sure they progress it for the drama. They'll have to make sure Mallory finds out if they want that to happen. Failing that, once there's been a few days without anyone dying, the Capitol will be baying for blood so the Gamemakers will have to encourage a fight. Best way to do that would be to make sure Mallory finds out you have me. Probably they'll have our mentor put a note in her next sponsor gift."
Statistically, his odds of survival were zero if they didn't choose to go through with this luring-Mallory-in plan. Sure, it would put Mallory in danger, but it was also their best chance of reuniting. Once Pascal had an idea where she was or that she was coming, he could get away from the careers and find her. It seemed like it was far better for him to make sure the careers agreed to go through with Kora's idea, but he knew he'd have to do any manipulation of the situation very subtly. Kora was smart, and despite his insulting of Felix he was pretty sure he was smart too. Hagan as well.
Kora tilted her head a little, an amused expression on her face despite the anger on Felix's face after Pascal's insult.
"Impressive," she acknowledged "for a little kid."
"Impressive," Pascal shot back "for someone who knows nothing about me."
That made Felix stride closer, raising his weapon. Clearly he was furious and about ready to kill Pascal. Pascal noted that he should probably tone down the sass a little. Kora calmly lifted her arm, blocking him from approaching Pascal.
"Relax," she said softly "you'll get your chance. For now, search his bag. Take anything useful from it - we carry all of the supplies, otherwise he'll only run off. He won't leave if he doesn't have food or water supplies. And make sure he isn't carrying anything he can use to escape. Someone watches him at all times but remember, we need him alive."
Felix did lower his weapon, and approached Pascal. The first thing he did was take the knife out of the boy's hands, and then he emptied the contents of his backpack on the ground. Rope, wire, matches, a canteen of water, and a small stash of food, and then the antiseptic cream. He'd really been running low on supplies, especially food and water, when the careers found him. He probably wouldn't have lasted long.
Felix then began to transfer all of Pascal's things into his own pack, but when he laid his hand on the antiseptic cream, Pascal interjected.
"Wait!" he insisted "I need that. Unless you want my wounds to get infected."
Kora sighed, but nodded. The careers then allowed Pascal to carry his backpack, which was virtually empty apart from the cream. He didn't mind this; if he ran away on his own it would only be because he knew where Mallory was and he knew he could find her fairly quickly. He had no intention of actually needing food supplies. His plan was that she would be close enough that he would hopefully be able to survive without food and water long enough to find his sister. Plus, if the worst happened, he had sponsors.
------------------------------------------
It was the next evening, and there was not yet any sign that Mallory knew where Pascal was. But everyone knew she would, very soon. If she wasn't told, Pascal knew she was smart and she'd piece the evidence together. She hadn't seen Pascal's face in the sky, and there was no sign of him in the Arena. Plus the message he'd left on the wall, if she had been back in that area. Hopefully she'd figure it out. Not to mention the fact that the Careers periodically had him take some of the blood from his wounds when they were moving through the Arena, smearing it on the walls. Mallory wouldn't know it was his for sure, but he knew that she was so worried about him that she would assume it was. The careers knew that too. She'd know he was alive, in the area, but hurt. All of that was more than enough for Mallory to figure out that the careers had him. And Pascal knew she'd know it was a trap.
Pascal sat by the fire, redressing his wounds. Kora sat not too far away, keeping an eye on him and on the food they had cooking. The flames reflected on the metal walls.
"She'll know this is a trap," Pascal pointed out "she won't come, you know."
The boy noticed that Kora had a wound on her arm and, before he even realised what he was doing, he was offering his antiseptic cream to her. She took it, smiling a little as she shook her head. She obviously had no idea what to make of Pascal. She studied him for a moment before focusing on her arm to apply the cream.
"For your sake, kid, you'd better hope she comes" Kora replied
"You'll kill me anyway, right?"
Kora actually faltered for a moment, but then she scoffed.
"Well, we're not here for a holiday,"
"Then I should hope she doesn't come. She'll stay alive that way, even if it makes no difference to me."
"You can't dance around everything with logic," Kora sighed
"Actually, I can. Logic is reality, that's why it's so great." Pascal pointed out
"You're weird, Libelle. Just shut up and just keep trying to survive like everyone else. Go to sleep or something."
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Sept 1, 2019 11:58:18 GMT -5
(Awwwww!
Pascal was growing on Kora, that’s absolutely adorable!)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 1, 2019 12:27:38 GMT -5
(Hahaha yeah I kinda had to have that happen xD)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Sept 1, 2019 12:43:50 GMT -5
(I love them both.
I don’t know if we’re still planning on ever doing the 125 games(though, either way it’s probably gonna be turned into some kind of fic that we/I do), but I’m highkey thinking about doing Lorelei’s interview because she’s...gonna go off script.
As in, Lorelei doesn’t follow the rules like a normal girl, but it doesn’t mean she’s breaking the game. She does her research, and she knows how to play others.
Basically: Lorelei enters her interview, and surprising for Burton/Catullus and the audience, she doesn’t talk about her games and she in turn starts to ask the questions.
(Or Lore being a jerk.))
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 1, 2019 12:51:50 GMT -5
(I’d still love to do the 125 Games but in the meantime we can totally do some writing I would love to see Lore’s interview
I could redo Lark’s maybe or some other writing I don’t know. I love Lark and want to write him but I don’t know what)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Sept 1, 2019 12:59:12 GMT -5
(So, warning, Lore’s interview, is going to be...kind of rough at some parts, and totally off script from a normal one.)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 1, 2019 13:01:03 GMT -5
Hahaha that’s no problem it’ll be awesome!)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Sept 1, 2019 14:26:00 GMT -5
 - - - - - Lorelei Rivers
Interview Night
I’m not the kindest girl in the world, nor have I ever pretended to be. But I’m not a girl whose a pushover either, at age 16, I’m primed and ready to kill whoever I must to get home to my family, to get home to my District. Because I’m not someone who dies without a fight.
I’m dressed in a silver dress with pastel green leaf jewels and silver lilies tied into my hair and my dress, with blue tints to them. I’m from District 7, a district of Lumber, of forests. Many past victors, such as my father, mother, Blight, and Johanna bear the pale skin I have, and some tributes before me have had the same pale hair as me, it’s not extremely uncommon, but it is when you have both.
Some consider me albino, and while I’m close to being so, my hair is technicually not white, not naturally. I had connections due to my father and mother being victors. So my hair was dyed white to fit the family, known for our pale hair and pail features.
I was upset to be chosen for the games, scared even, but no good came from tears, and I couldn’t show weakness now. It was unfair though, to pick specifically from the children of victors, it made the pool so small, you were lucky not to be picked, since the probability of being picked would be so much higher.
So I was here, and I did as much research before the reaping, and after the reaping(as I knew the chance of me being in the games was higher), And I watched reruns of the games of past victors whose kids were reaped, I watched interviews, and found out more about my fellow tributes, whose mannerisms would most likely be the same.
Yet, perhaps the most interesting of all was when I learned of Lacey Acton, watching her reaping in District 8, and I recognized her last name, my parents spoke of her father, Burton, and his actions. Neither hated him, but both talked of other victors. So when I learned that her father, an old announcer for the games year and ears ago, was coming back to announce her games, I was angered at first. I couldn’t see my parents again unless I won(which I had every intention on doing), but he just got what he wanted.
So I took every chance I could to watch reruns of the 90th Hunger Games, to watch the interviews, the parade, learn of who was in those games, and how they all died. I scanned the games for clues, for situation, and I watched Catallus and his interviews and his announcing programs from the years following, up to the 100th games, where he blew up.
I watched it all, noting how Mallory Libelle picked up his old phrase, how he acted, his mannerisms. I did my research because in the end, using that against them would be my advantage.
So the night came that I was walking onto the stage, he was dressed up as well, per usual, and wore a classic smile, though I could tell it didn’t reach his eyes, it was fake, and I kept my face neutral.
“Hello, Lorelei!” He greeted, using his charm he used throughout his own games and his announcer career, but I held up my hand, as if silencing him.
“Let’s drop the formalities, Burton,” I commented, and the crowd that was priorly cheering for me fell into a hushed silence. He seemed at a loss for a minute before nodding softly and sitting, gesturing for me to do so as well.
I did, watching him with sharp grey eyes, my lips set into a curt straight line.
“So, Lorelei, what do you think you’re biggest advantage is going into the games?” He started, acting as if the interview begun normally.
I wasn’t having it, just in a few minutes, maybe up to 15, he would be interviewing his daughter, trying to play up her chances, and so I wouldn’t have to negate those chances by taking his credibility.
So I set to work on doing so.
“I know the other tributes,” I said, softly, with an air of mirth to my voice, a mysterious, Smokey sound, “And I know the actions their parents have taken to win.” I commented, quirking a smirk at him, and he seemed to recoil just a tad.
“Well, interesting, now what do you-“ He didn’t get to finish.
“You’ve asked many questions, Burton, I feel maybe you owe us some answers.” I interrupted, leaning forward, one thing about this too. I knew what Louden did to Burton, and I know that those in charge knew that this benefitted them, “Or maybe, maybe everyone here should learn who you are.” I started.
He was stunned, remaining silent, and I turned to the crowd, I had limited time, so I was using it.
“Burton Acton, his real name. He was a victor of the 90th Hunger Games, But let’s analyze that for a moment. Why don’t we?” I questioned, glancing at Burton for a moment, a spark of something she didn’t recognize in his eyes, but I continued. “Burton Acton, chosen from District 8 along with a girl, a rebellious girl named Holly Alandria,” oh, that got a a reaction, a tiny flinch as if he was slapped, “Now, these games were unique. An abandoned city, with skyscrapers and rubble all over. Other such children in these games included those as Young’s as 14 with Astrape and Carlo, to those older careers like Everest, Alessandro and Macaria,” every name had the man across from me reacting in small ways, clenching his fist, frowning slightly.
I wasn’t done though, “Now, Burton and the rebel girl, Holly, were friends and allies. Enough to the point that Burton asked his family to watch her cat,” I feigned a laugh, shaking my head, “But Burton Acton did what Burton Acton had to do to survive,” I added next, “And Holly did what she had to do to protect him, which led to her dying so he wouldn’t be found by the Careers.” I frowned, rolling my eyes suddenly, “And Burton killed Everest when it was just the two of them, despite Everest refusing to fight. Instead of a pity kill, Burton did what he had to do to survive, and he got his own family killed when he unlike almost all tributes, couldn’t handle his own district and went to the Capitol in hoped that being pampered would make him happy. He couldn’t watch his mouth, like Holly couldn’t watch hers, and got his family killed because of it.” I wasn’t even watching him now, simply staring ahead, before plopping my head on my hands.
“Now, fast forward to the 100th Hunger Games, he realizes his catchphrase of ‘We All Live and Die’ was being used by Mallory, the victor that year, and he assumed maybe being rebellious would help him, at least, help his guilty conscious. But let’s review. Despite Amadrya and Holly’s hate of the Capitol, and his choices to never intervene with being an announcer, he chose to turn against them and forget them by watching more children die and reacting to it like it’s a dramatic show and not people dying.” She snarled his way, “He did what he wanted to do to survive and make sure all of Panem forgot the fallen and remember him, and he claimed to have been Holly’s friend, to have loved his family. And now he’s followed his daughter here to interview us and try to pamper her.” His eyes were wide.
I only smirked again, “Well not this time, Burton. You think you being here is going to help Lacey? It isn’t, you being here out a larger target on her back.” I commented coldly, and I knew my time was up, noticing some peacekeepers about to come in and grab me, “But then again, maybe if Lacey dies, you’ll just forget about her too, like you forgot about all the children that died so you could win.” I stood up, throwing one last comment over my shoulder, “So yeah, that’s my advantage, I know everything, Burton, about you, about your daughter, and about ever tribute in these games. And I don’t rely on others to survive, I can do that just fine on my own.” I walked out of the room, noticing Lacey in line to be interviewed after my District partner.
I threw her a vicious smirk, and walked on.
My name is Lorelei Rivers, and like my name, I’m a siren that won’t be ignored.
(May not be canon to what happens, tbh.)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 1, 2019 14:49:57 GMT -5
Oh my god that was so amazing x I was so inspired by that too x I love Lorelei
I wanna do that from another perspective if I can. Should I do Burton’s perspective or Lacey?)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Sept 1, 2019 15:09:58 GMT -5
(Oh either works :3.
Lorelei’s going to be a cool character. She’s not bloodthirsty like Alessandro and Robin and Kindle and Felix, But she’s not a pacifist like Holly, Carlo, and how Mallory wanted to be. She’s going to be a different archetype, more neutral. Not rebellious, but not supportive. She is strictly independent and does what she must to live. She’s not exactly morally grey, but kind of is.
The others are different as well.
Cassiopeia is a very king girl, unlike almost all of my prior characters, except Carlo. However she’s shy at times, and very very genuine. She adorable, but strong. She’s probably a bit of a pacifist, because she doesn’t value lives over one another, but she also doesn’t want to die.
Starling is a sloth, I’m going to explore more of the ‘why’ soon. But she’s not at all dedicated to much, and often comes off as depressed and careless, letting life do whatever it must and accepting it. Out of the three, she’s perhaps going to be the snarkiest, the most teasing and perhaps chill, and really calm, but gaining some more dedication as the games go on.
And then my boy will be made soon, I don’t think I’m going to use Daphne, instead I may make a boy/girl who chooses to consider themselves non-binary or at least acts more like a hero archetype or lancer.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 1, 2019 15:13:46 GMT -5
(Ooh all those characters look awesome! I love your ideas all your characters are so cool and unique I love them
Okay so I’m gonna do it from Burton’s perspective and then kind of have Lacey’s reaction thrown in. The question is, how much do I let Burton spill in front of the cameras about what’s going on? I definitely want to hint that Lorelei hasn’t got the full picture and her words exposing him to the Capitol already puts him in a lot of danger so... hmmm)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Sept 1, 2019 15:20:58 GMT -5
(Oh that could be interesting.
Feel free to shift it or something, have her say more/less, whatever you want to make it work.)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 1, 2019 15:22:34 GMT -5
Oh no I can totally make this work with everything you had in the last post
I may have him spill about the murder of his family and the poisonings and stuff, or at least hint)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Sept 1, 2019 15:50:27 GMT -5
(Oh interesting!)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 1, 2019 16:10:43 GMT -5
It is midway through the interviews, almost time to interview Lacey. That will be the most painful interview of the night. First I have two more interviews; Lorelei of District 7, and Lacey’s district partner.
I have plastered on my trademark smile, and had been chatting in a friendly tone to the tributes all night. Cracking jokes, trying my hardest to put them at ease and bring out the qualities in them that people will want to sponsor them for. I might have a daughter in these Games, but I’ve always tried my best to help all the tributes that I interview. As much as possible, anyway.
Lorelei steps out into the stage in a forest-themed outfit, and I can already see by her eyes that she’s going to be a fiery one. I can see Holly in her, and Amadrya and Macaria too. But I try to put those thoughts out of my head, focusing on the girl as she takes a seat.
“Hello, Lorelei!” I greet in my usual way
But then she holds up her hand and fixes me with a cold, hard glare. It’s like she sees right through me.
“Let’s drop the formalities, Burton,” she says
Those words make my blood run cold. Nobody says my name on air. The last time I was addressed by my real name in front of a camera, it was during my own interview. I freeze up slightly, blinking for a second in surprise. It caught me off guard, and it certainly doesn’t seem like it will lead to anything good. Lorelei even calling my by my real name could be dangerous. I hope she has no idea what she’s doing, but I get the feeling she does. This is all planned.
I quickly collect myself and move on.
“So, Lorelei,” I ask, pretending nothing happened “what do you think your biggest advantage is going into the Games?”
Her comment about knowing the other tributes and the actions of their parents confirms what I suspected. This is bad. I recoil at her words a little, nervous about where this is going. Her words are like a slap in the face. But I try to act unruffled as best I can.
I start to ask her another question, but she interrupts before I can finish. Starts talking about me owing answers, about how the audience should know who I really am. I am stunned into silence, and I swallow. I cast a nervous glance at the camera, but I know they can’t cut the interviews, not when there’s still four districts left to get through. Besides, it’s not like the Capitol cares about me anyway. They probably figure this will make good television.
Lorelei takes my silence as an opportunity, and begins to talk to the crowd, talking about my real name and my life. Every tribute name she mentions sparks a different reaction. At Amadrya’s name, I close my eyes for a moment, swallowing. At Astrape and Carlo’s names, I frown. At Macaria and Alessandro’s, my fists clench. At Everest’s, the boy I killed, I go pale and a distance seems to grow behind my eyes, and it’s like I’m there again for a split second.
But it’s Holly’s name I react the most to, and I can’t make eye contact with Lorelei or the crowd or anyone. It’s all I can do to keep from getting emotional. I flinch as if she’s slapped me, because that name hurts. I know how ashamed Holly would be of me.
“You remind me of her,” is all I can say when she speaks Holly’s name, and it comes out so quiet the camera must have barely caught it.
Lorelei’s next words prompt more verbal response from me. I don’t say anything to her words about Holly’s sacrifice, because she’s right. And there isn’t a moment I don’t blame myself for Holly dying, and knowing she would have done so much better if she had lived instead of me.
“Everest didn’t want to live,” I respond to her words “not without Amadrya, who he killed because he loved her. I tried to convince him, and I assure you I regret what I did every day. But I wasn’t trying to do what I had to do to survive. I wanted to protect Holly and everyone else, I tried to stop Holly from doing anything stupid to protect me. I never got a second thought I’d survive the Games. I’m sure it’s not a shock to Panem that a Games victor had to kill.”
Her words about what happened after the Games prompt a shake of the head.
“I was asked to host the Games, I didn’t choose to. Yes, District 8 reminded me too much of Holly, but I very much wanted a quiet life in my home district. But unlike Holly, who could be as rebellious as she liked, I had a family to protect and I feared what the Capitol would do if I refused to host the Games. And to prove me right, the second I stepped out of line they killed my sisters and parents. I’m not here because I want to be, I hate everything the Capitol has done to me and I’m not afraid to admit that. The Capitol did murder my family, you’re correct. And I hate them for it. But not as much as I hate myself, because I know it was my fault.”
I know whatever I say or don’t say, my credibility is destroyed. Lorelei has made sure of that. I either go down as a betrayer and a coward, or I go down as an anti-Capitol rebel. I known which one I’d rather be, and which one Holly would want.
She carries on though, accusing me of being a Capitol puppet, of forgetting those who died so I could survive.
“I’m not here by choice, I never have been. After the 100th Games, when I spoke out, President Louden told me I would continue to host the Games. And if I didn’t, he’d find something else I love to kill. And he also said that every time I said something that was anti-Capitol or even slightly rebellious in nature, I would be forced to drink a poison. It gradually began to make my organs shut down, and would have killed me. Perhaps you ought to learn the whole story instead of what the Capitol would have you believe. I eventually managed to convince Louden to allow me to return to my home district. But I’m not here today by choice either, I was summoned. You think I’m here to support and pamper my daughter, but I’m here because the President finds this kind of twisted torture, where I watch my own daughter go through what I went through, he finds it entertaining. I won’t ever forget the tributes who died when I was in the Games. I chose not to have my scars surgically removed because I didn’t want to forget. They’re in my nightmares every time I present the Games. Look, I’m just a man who was a scared teenager, who lost who he was, and was punished and tortured for trying to stand up for what he believed in. I’m a man who lost everything he loved, and now I have a family again I’m not going to lose it. But I’m here watching my daughter knowing she’s probabky going to die and I’m losing everyone all over again. I hope you’re satisfied, I hope you feel proud.”
I fix my gaze on Lorelei.
“Because you haven’t helped your chances, all you’ve done by talking about the murder of my family is give me a death sentence.”
——————
The next interview goes by very awkwardly, but then it’s time for my daughter. Lacey looks beautiful in her dress, but tear stains track down her cheeks and she is wide eyed and pale. She sits beside me, and fixes me with a look. The cameras are still rolling because to hell with it. The Capitol can cut out whatever they choose. But my secret is out now anyway to everyone in that audience and probably all of Panem if they’d didn’t cut Lorelei’s interview.
“Dad,” Lacey says, “what did you do?”
“Terrible things,” I reply softly, “and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m not who you thought I was, I never told you so much because I wanted you to be safe. I’m sorry to you, and to your mother. I love you both so much.”
I don’t want to treat this like a goodbye, but I know it might be. But I’ve said all I needed to say now, and so I have to move on.
“Come on now, we have to move on. Let’s start your interview, Lacey...”
And so we begin to talk, as if nothing’s happened, but I can see fast moving shadows backstage and I know somethings going on. As soon as I leave this stage, I know I’m in terrible danger.
I’m sorry, Lacey, Paige. I’m sorry, Ari, Halina, Astrape, Carlo, Alesssandro, Macaria, Sapphire, everyone. I’m so sorry, Everest.
I’m sorry, Holly.
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Sept 1, 2019 16:33:29 GMT -5
Oooof.
Lorelei done did it.
I’m still super high on muse though.)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 1, 2019 16:39:24 GMT -5
She done did it guys XD
Nah it’s fine if that actually happened Burton would probs be fine. He probably actually wouldn’t say any of the stuff I had him say he’d just be in stunned guilty silence the entire time because yeah
Ooh it’s good you’re high on muse! Me too I just don’t know what I wanna write really. I gotta go to bed but I will write more tomorrow. I may still redo Lark’s interview. I did contemplate instead of him being sassy him just being literally pretty much silent for the whole interview but there wouldn’t be much to write there XD I may just turn up the sass
Anyway I should sleep but I can’t wait to see what fun writing you come up with! Xx)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Sept 1, 2019 17:13:38 GMT -5
The last character, one who I feel is...going to strike a few chords....a lot, actually. She’s not named because of my screen name, just the fact that I like the name Shadow. So, oops. But not oops, when I named her I kind of forgot my Sn was Shadow and I hope that doesn’t bother anyone. Shadow Zaldivar  If there’s an issue with me making another female, oops. Regardless, if I make a 5th OR if there’s an issue with me having four(in this case, I’d probably get read of Lorelei?) here’s the other boy. Oldeander Zaldivar: A possible female version of Shadow if there’s an issue with her/a boy that I may introduce for the games/after the games:  or  Yeah either way, one of these two may just be part of the rebellion, I dunno whom yet would be this, but either way, whichever one isn’t in the games is encoding a character still.) Viper Zaldivar:  Vesper Zaldivar:  |
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I’m glad you liked it. I just wanted to explore the idea of Macaria coping with something like that, and it is definitely kind of a mini bonding moment for Macaria and Holly, which I may write more about.
