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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Nov 29, 2019 1:09:49 GMT -5
Not super proud of this but eh??? Oh hello.  I mean, it’s very rushed so oops.) |
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Nov 29, 2019 4:05:29 GMT -5
When I talk you should listen
All of you belong to me
Come on, we should get it going
Now, what I want is specific, hey hey
Respect what I have done for thee
The Ruler And The Killer, baby
“I swear to you that if you don’t leave my friends alone, when the rebels bust us out of here I will make it my personal mission to kill you,” I snarl “and I promise I won’t do it quickly. I’ll make it slow, and I’ll enjoy it.”
It’s only a few days after we were captured, and I’m saying these words to Louden as he enters the room I’m about to be tortured in. I can’t let him treat Holly and Everest the way he has been.
“Good heart, terrible temper,” Louden chuckles “you’re forgetting, Darrow. First of all, the threats of a little girl don’t scare me. Second of all, you’re my prisoner and I don’t have to take orders from you. I own you. Thirdly, the rebels aren’t coming, and you’re never leaving.”
”If you weren’t scared you wouldn’t have felt the need to take us prisoner. You’re paranoid about the strength of the rebels.”
“You understand nothing of politics or leadership, Darrow. I took you all prisoner in my efforts not only to punish your crimes, but also to use you all to shorten this war however I can. This is real war, something you would know nothing about.”
“Real war is why tributes and the Games existed in the first place, so you all seem pretty shit at it to me.” I smirk
That’s what Holly would want me to say, what Macaria would want.
I see a dangerous anger flash across Louden’s eyes as he turns to address the guard.
“For god’s sake, shut her up will you?”
And as Louden leaves the corridors echo with my screaming
You don't talk, you don't say nothing, okay?
You don't talk, you don't say nothing, okay?
You don't talk, you don't say nothing, okay?
You don't talk, you don't say nothing, okay?
You don't talk, you don't say nothing, okay?
You don't talk, you don't say nothing, okay?
Keep your mind in motion, yeah yeah
Remember you belong to me
Come on, we should get it going
Now, what I want is specific, hey hey
You putting on a show for me
The Ruler and The Killer, baby
“You know the routine by now, Darrow,” Louden begins
It’s after I started doing the interviews in order to protect Everest.
The two of us are walking down the corridor to the stage. I’m flanked by two guards, and I’ve been all dressed up for the occasion. Because I’m pretty weak at this point they’ve also agreed to let me wear flats and not heels, and I’ll be able to sit. It’s a start. I don’t respond to Louden’s words, I don’t want to.
“If I say jump, you say?” Louden asks
Ugh. Internally I feel like I’ve been shredded, torn apart. Externally, I give Louden a fake sweet smile like he expects of me.
“How high?” I smile
“And what else?” Louden asks
“I need to watch my temper because if I put a single step out of line Everest will suffer for it,” I recite
“And?”
”I need to convince the Capitol that I really am on your side,” I reply
And then, in a move that makes me want to kick him in a very sensitive place, Louden actually ruffles my hair. But I don’t, because of course I have to control my temper.
“Good girl,” he says with a smug smile
You don't talk, you don't say nothing, okay?
You don't talk, you don't say nothing, okay?
You don't talk, you don't say nothing, okay?
You don't talk, you don't say nothing, okay?
You don't talk, you don't say nothing, okay?
You don't talk, you don't say nothing, okay?
Please pay attention, hey hey
You know all you belong to me
Come on, we should get it going
Survival of the fittest, hey hey
Lose and you will answer to me
The Ruler and The Killer, baby
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Nov 29, 2019 14:45:02 GMT -5
I could say I’ll take you, I could say I'll make you
But underneath, all I plan to do, to do is break you
You could be my breakthrough, watching demons wait 'til
I leave you, and they can initi-niti-nitiate you
Eyes on the prize. Or failing that, at least not on him.
My plan right now is that the same as it has always been. Get Alessandro to fall for me, have him at my beck and call in the Arena. Then when the time is right, slowly build up trust with the rest of the pack and turn them against one another, as subtly as possible. The key, the only way to survive in the Career pack, is if you control its breakdown. If you’re not in control when the pack ends you’re dead
It’s partly why during our time in the Arena, I’ve been careful to make Amadrya the enemy. If they’re so focussed on this outsider they won’t be looking at me. Of course, I hadn’t predicted her saving my life in the bloodbath, which complicated things. I’d known Everest would be an issue as well, but so far I’ve been successful at pushing him to the margins of the group as well. He is also suspicious.
And my opportunity is perfect, it’s just me and Alessandro. We’re both on watch. I just need to do a little flirting, build trust. Then I can have him at my side until it’s time for me to whisper lies in his ear about the others. We both are illuminated by firelight
“I have to say,” Arlo begins “your interview was the fakest thing I’ve ever seen.”
That conversation stops me in my tracks before I can even begin to think about flirting.
“What?” I ask, a little offended, despite the fact that every interview is always super fake and why should mine be any different.
“The airheaded flirt thing,” he shrugged “it’s obvious you’re not dumb, and I’ve only ever seen you flirt with me. Nothing about your interview seemed true to me.”
And that’s when he fixes me with a susprisingly intense look. He looks at me and I can see him trying to figure me out. Which is strange because most of the time people just take me as-is and don’t really try to get beyond the surface level. And I swear I keep eye contact with him for way longer than I should, only breaking away when he starts to speak again.
“So who are you really, Macaria Slayte?”
And for some reason, that question floors me because it’s the first time anyone has really wanted to know that.
No, Macaria, stop it. Keep on with the plan. Say something mysterious, something to make him want more but without revealing too much about myself. I need him to keep taking to me like this.
I rise to my feet, and walk past him, pausing to lay a hand on his shoulder and leaning down to whisper in his ear.
“Nice try, honey, but I don’t give secrets for free.”
But my heart races as I walk away and I already know it’s too late. I’m falling for him.
In the dead of night
Nobody near you, nothin' no light
Make it fight or flight
At the end of the day things don't feel right
I feel as if I’ve been swallowed by a black hole. There is no light, no sound, no touch. Nothing. Just emptiness and blackness. There isn’t even any time, just a boundless dark infinity.
I’m sitting in mine and Amadrya’s cell in the Capitol, sobbing. Alessandro’s death has hit me so hard, I feel as if I’m shattering. Because not again, not again. Everyone I love, I lose. And I can’t bear the pain over and over again. I’m not strong enough. And I’m angry, angry at everyone. Angry at the world. Angry at Louden, at the guards, at the rebels for not doing anything.
I’m even angry at Amadrya for trying to be sympathetic. I push her away when she lays a comforting hand on my shoulder. Which honestly, at any other moment I’d probably recognise is quite an effort, since she isn’t really great at the whole sympathy and comfort thing. Better than Holly or I, but not great. As it is, though, I don’t. I just see it as someone who thinks they know what I’m feeling. She’s lost her parents, of course, but this is different.
“What can I do?” Amadrya asks softly, surprisingly patient despite everything. She is, of course, not unaffected by Alessandro’s death. She was in the career pack with us, she’s aware of the sacrifice he made for us.
“Nothing!” I reply “there’s nothing you can do.”
Nothing can make this better. All I feel is this gnawing, aching, empty pain in my chest as if someone is clawing at my heart.
There is nothing she can do. But I know that won’t stop Amadrya from asking me if there’s anything she can do, if there’s anything I need.
What do I need? Louden’s head. That’s what I need.
You chain me up, still speculating
Never enough
But soon you’ll see I’m unrestrainable
I’m uncontainable
Any moment I’ll have you begging
Don’t turn your back
Oh can’t you see that I’m untamable
I’m unmistakable
No one understands me, too scared to command me
Walking through an empty underworld of demons dancing
You keep calling me a psycho
Thought that I was scared
But I came prepared
Think you might be right though
You made me a psycho, a psycho
We’re in the Capitol now, Holly and I. We didn’t tell the rest of the rebels, because if we did they’d only try and stop us. They don’t understand who we are, what we need. It doesn’t make us love and appreciate our friends any less, but this revenge? We need it. We cannot continue without justice being done.
It was thanks to Holly mostly that we got to the base; it was she who planned our route, stowing away on a rebel ship meant for a mission in the city. We managed to sneak off and avoid the traps sprinkled around the city, since she had plotted them all meticulously before we left. It was I who made sure the other rebels weren’t in the know, and I who got us our weapons and armour. We dressed as peacekeepers up to this point to get us through the city, but we’ve ditched the costumes here. We’re only after Louden, and beyond that nothing else matters. At least not to me anyway, not with Alessandro gone. Besides, we both want him to look in our eyes when he dies.
So we’ve gotten to the outside of the building that we know Louden is inside, preparing for a television address or something. It’s perfect. If we kill him on camera, all the better that Panem see it. And if we get killed on camera afterwards, well then the districts have their martyrs. We timed it this way mainly because we knew Louden would be lightly guarded. Which is precisely what we need.
We have hidden ourselves behind a truck parked outside, which gives us the element of surprise.
There are some guards outside, and Holly takes care of a couple while I grab my throwing knives and finish off a few of my own. I knew my training would come in handy, and it definitely did. We wouldn’t have gotten even this far if we hadn’t had our peacekeeper costumes, and we certainly would have struggled with these guards if we didn’t have the element of surprise.
But there’s nothing left to do now. There’s only a few peacekeepers and Louden inside.
Trust what you’re feelin’
I’m still revealin’
Everything is fine, fine
Trust what you’re feelin’
I’ll have you kneelin’
You’re gonna be mine, mine
Mine, mine
Mine
I turn to Holly, offering her a smile.
“Well, you said this would take a sacrifice,” I say “might as well make it two for good measure. You ready?”
Holly just grabs my hand, raising our joined hands and resting her forehead on them, which I do in return. Respect, sisterhood. She drops my hand, turns her gaze toward the building.
“Alright, let’s go. I’ll see you on the other side.”
We rise fully from our crouched position, weapons are the ready as we charge through the door, knowing full well we won’t come out again.
Holly runs slightly ahead of me, and we give one another one last salute before she disappears through the doorway. I suppose the salute is right, since we are real soldiers now.
Were real soldiers.
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Nov 30, 2019 0:36:52 GMT -5
He'd trade his guns for love
But he's caught in the crossfire
And he keeps wakin' up
But it's not to the sound of birds
Alessandro couldn’t rally tell you how he felt now. How he could once hate the world so much, but love it all the same. He loved violence, he loved fighting. But that was before he realized he didn’t have to be just another victor. That was before he saw Macaria and fell in love with her. That was before he pondered a life without her, if it was worth living, and escaped with the arena with the others.
That was before he saw the sacrifices Amadrya, Everest, and Holly continued to make time and time again to stand up to Louden. They gave him a chance, and he ad to repay that. He became closer to everyone else, Burton, Halina, Ari, and especially Macaria.
He once loved war and violence. But now? Now he would trade anything for peace. For a life with the love of his life, to live, to be happy.
A world where children weren’t toys and pawns, where class was decided on where you lived rather than what you did. Where love didn’t come with the potential price of loss. Where family came with the pain of watching death.
And the only way to do that? Was this ugly, ugly war.
“What are you thinking about?” He was on his way to the Capitol, a mission to free Amadrya, Holly, and Everest. Right beside him was Macaria, as they snuck towards the prisoner’s building. Louden’s main building, a Capitol of Capitol City and Panem. She was the one who had questioned him.
“I used to dream of winning the games,” He commented, almost hollow, “I don’t understand why anymore, why that was my goal.”
“It was expected of you, of us.” She commented, looking to the side, regret written on her face. But a flash of determination and pride came back, and he found himself smiling. She always picked herself up, and if she didn’t, he was there. “But we get to be whoever we want to be now,” she commented, grabbing hold of his hand and holding it up, “We’re in this together, okay?”
He had nodded, turning to face whatever, as long as she was by his side. Even if she didn’t feel like he did, just being near her made all the guilt and pain a little easier to deal with. A little easier to overcome. It made it easier to open up, after being taught to be a stone for so long.
He used to dream of victory, of being the winner, brave and rich. Now? Now he wanted to live a simple life with Macaria and his newfound family too, with his mom guiding him, because he finally understood her reluctance to him going into the games(she won and survived one, after all). He wanted a simple life.
He got death instead.
The tyranny, the violent streets
Deprived of all that we're blessed with
And we can't get enough, no
She didn’t want to be the bad guy.
She didn’t want to be the coward.
She didn’t want to enjoy this as much as she did, or agree with this like she acted.
She wanted to be herself again, but one look at Louden, at the power he offered her, and the pain she got if she rejected, and she couldn’t change her mind. She didn’t even doubt it, except at times like these.
Robin didn’t want to support the games, but she knew what she could lose if this revolution failed, which it was certain to do, and she wasn’t willing to risk it.
If she sided with the rebels, and her family ever got caught? They would be slaughtered, her little niece would never be born, her sister would never get to be a mother.
If the rebels won? She just hoped they would be the sparing little heroes they pretended to be, care for her family.
That, of course, wasn’t her only reason.
She had power, and she had authority. She was treated like a queen, never hurt, never bothered. She was granted mercy because she cooperated, she listened, and obeyed. She was a little wallflower, a little present to put on display.
She was alive, and she was happy. She never was tortured, never hurt, never killed.
But was she happy? Was she truly alive?
Thoughts like those were dangerous. They promoted action, and she couldn’t act. She chose her path long before, and no matter what her thoughts told her, it was for the best. She lost her innocence when she killed in the arena, mercy or not. She was no better than Macaria or Alessandro, and surely no better than Louden.
She wasn’t going to pretend to be. Because deep down, she enjoyed seeing the others in pain. Like a revenge. They never even thought that maybe someone else was alive, they never cared.
She was the first out of that arena, the first caught. She didn’t get the chance they did, and they never cared. Never mentioned her name, or Sapphire’s, or anyone’s. They left them without a second thought.
Then again, they cared for themselves, and deep down, she knew that’s why they were rebelling. Because they were unlucky and got picked, or volunteered, and they got too close to others.
And then they didn’t want to play anymore.
Robin knew she was wrong, knew this was wrong.
“Robin?” Louden beckoned from near her, and she snapped from her thoughts, walking out on stage. Alessandro fixed her with a dirty glare, hateful and menacing. It shocked her, how strong he once was in that arena, and now he was like the cowering dog beneath her feet. He was the hunters who thought he was going to control the game, and she was now the huntress who controlled everything. And she set her sight on her prey, and as she remained still, she watched as the life slipped from his eyes, as his strength ebbed away.
She knew she was wrong, that she was in the wrong, that she was the bad guy now.
But it didn’t mean she was going to stop.
I'd trade my luck to know
Why he's caught in the crossfire
And I'm here wakin' up
To the sun and the sound of birds
Macaria wasn’t a liar, nor a kind or empathetic girl. She didn’t act like it, didn’t pretend, and certainly never opened up enough to care about others ever before.
But he? Alessandro? He was different, he forced her to open up.
“You’re a terrible actor,” he would tell her, in the arena, “You could never fool me with that pretty girl act of yours.”
She would stare at him in shock, because she knew she had many wrapped around her fingers. It was one of her main strengths, one of her many skilled that made her so threatening. “Excuse me?” She would question, glaring at him, offended and frightened. Because if he knew the truth, than he would know how to defeat her, or he would truly accept her, and anymore she couldn’t accept herself.
She closed herself off inside. If someone chipped at her armor, she didn’t think she could repair it.
But he did, “Doesn’t matter, what matters is that around me, you be yourself.”
It wasn’t a question, nor was it a statement, it was a command that he said in a much gentler voice than he used with anyone like Amadrya or Everest, it held care, tender and sweet, that made her heartbeat thus against her rib cage.
She nodded, but walked away all the same, because a chip in her armor revealed her worst fear that she had feelings for someone she would have to kill.
But she never had to kill him. She got to escape the arena, learn to be herself again, rather than the weapon she was made into. She learned happiness didn’t lie in murder and death, but in friends and allies.
Of course, there had to be one major issue. There always had to be. Holly, Amadrya, and Everest were still in the Capitol, still tortured, and caged like circus animals.
So, they went on a mission to free them. But plans never go the way you want them too, and she too got captured, so did Alessandro, and only Everest made it out.
It was fine though, she was threatened, separated from her newfound family, but she got to make amends with Amadrya, got to befriend her. She wasn’t happy there, but she was content, she got to see Arlo, at least once.
But he was dead now, due to Louden and Robin, and she couldn’t get that feeling out of her head. A thirst so powerful, it almost blinded her sometimes. She would never be content until Louden was dead.
She knew Alessandro would want her to be happy, to smile when she heard the birds chirping, to cherish the sun, and the good things in life. But he didn’t know that he was her sun, because she never got the chance to tell him, and she never would.
She couldn’t find herself happy, not without him, surely not with his murderer alive. A dark part of her wondered if that was how the parents of her own victims from the arena felt. An even darker part reminded her that all the change Alessandro brought to her, all that self realization, was running down a drain, reverting her back to some machine again, just for another master to use and control.
But she wasn’t a machine, she made her choices on her own, and she knew she would never rest until Louden was dead.
Society's anxiety
Deprived of all that we're blessed with
We just can't get enough, no!
He thought that they were friends.
He thought wrong.
Robin was never his true friend, she used him as an ally to get her closer to winning the games, she used him as a tool to get what she wanted, and she was ready to discard him the moment he stopped being helpful to her plans...
Right?
Ari convinced himself of that again and again. Though a part of him couldn’t care less about her, because he did the same exact thing. Robin wasn’t his friend, Robin was an ally who he exchanged help with to inch himself closer to getting home.
He could see himself killing her, if he had to. But someone like Amadrya? A friend. He could never hurt his friends.
He didn’t exactly understand why he felt so bad when he left Robin in the Arena, why hearing her screams grated his nerves. It was like hearing a friend being tortured(and he knew how that felt, when Louden televised Amadrya’s torture). He didn’t understand why he felt so bad leaving her behind.
Maybe she was a friend once, but she turned deranged, actively sought to kill others for her own benefit. She offered help to Macaria and Alessandro in killing Amadrya and her allies. He couldn’t side with that, he couldn’t stomach it.
He left to warn Amadrya, and when he heard the canon and the scream, he was sure that Robin had died. It never occurred to him that a game maker deactivated her tracker, it never occurred to him that originally, Robin was the main one the Rebels sought to obtain first.
Maybe it was because of her talents, her skills, her calmness in calamity.
But no one told him, because no one except Diana and the others in on the freedom of the tributes knew(and, well, someone else), and it went unchecked.
But now Alessandro was dead because of her, because of Robin. And he blamed himself, for freezing when he first saw her, when she aimed for him. When she spat insults.
Alessandro died...protecting him. Because Ari was Robin’s main target.
“Ari, are you alright?”
He turned to stare at Amadrya. His real friend, maybe his only real one from the beginning, studying her. She was safe now, healthy and free. She got to be with Everest and her family, what was left of it, anyways.
He thought back to Robin, turning away from Amadrya, ever silent, which seemed to be response enough as she sat beside him, resting a hand on his back. Amadrya was almsot like a sister, but he didn’t ponder on that.
Robin betrayed them all so much, got Alessandro killed.
And yet, despite his apathy towards her, he still wanted to help her, and the vicious cycle repeated.
Can I trust what I'm given?
When faith still needs a gun
Whose ammunition justifies the wrong?
Gunfire, blood, death.
What a life he lived now.
A bullet to his left, barely dodgeable. A gun in hand, ready to fire.
“Everest, watch your six!” Amadrya warned from before him, in the line of fire, with various other volunteers and rebels from District 3.
A fight close to home, he reminisced sourly, as he turned, easily shooting down the peacekeeper who was behind him, aiming for his back.
A scream pierced the air, foreign to him, but he heard enough of screams in the Capitol to like hearing them. A female scream, high in octave, fearful, begging for help.
Amadrya must have seen the panic that built on his face, because she ran over, taking his spot on guard, turning to him, “Go, we got this.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, already running towards the little village, where most of the poor residents lived of District 3, He lived in the Academy, so he never really cared much about this place, nor the similar places in his own district. But he now did.
What he saw sickened him, horribly so. One of the volunteers from District 12 towered over a little girl who was cuddling a teddy bear close to her chest, a bulletwound was in her leg, crying, begging for mercy.
He didn’t really think, running over and pushing the boy to the ground who had towered over the girl. He was met with furious brown eyes.
“The hell man?” The boy asked, glaring between Everest and the little girl.
“I should be asking you the same thing!” Everest yelled, pinning the boy down, with eyes narrowed. The little girl scurried back, crying as she cradled her teddy bear, staring at the fighting nearby, mumbling something incoherent, that Everest didn’t really understand too well because it just sounded like scrambled words.
The boy spit, but Everest dodged it quickly, roughly pushing the boy back to the ground as he started to get up. The boy rolled his eyes then, “Her dad works for the Peacekeepers, she tried getting involved when I handled him!”
A sick feeling built in Everest stomach as she looked at the girl, who, he note, wasn’t actually staring at the fighting, rather, at a body. A man’s body, who wasn’t in a peacekeeper uniform, who didn’t have a gun, who just had a gun wound in his chest.
His eyes flickered to the little girl, who he noted was catatonic, and she wasn’t mumbling nonsense. It was a name. Here dad’s name.
“You idiot!” Everest couldn’t help himself, in his rage he threw a punch at the boy from 12, “He’s not even wearing a peacekeeper uniform!”
The kid spit out blood, glaring up at him with annoyance, “He used to trade with the peacekeepers, Jones told me,” Jones, a kid from District 3, this kids main buddy. “Isn’t this what the revolution is? Killing the Capitol and their allies.”
Everest couldn’t even talk, he felt too sick right now. He always knew Louden was wrong in what he did, the Capitol was wrong. But he never stopped to think that maybe some of the rebels were just as bad as Louden. Everest didn’t even kill half the peacekeepers they fought, he knew some did it because of fear.
He knew that on Louden’s side, there were good spots and some bad specks. But it was on both sides.
He forced the boy up, pushing him up, as Amadrya approached, the fighting must have been over. Though she wore a face of confusion as Everest roughly handled Ben, the boy from 12, though she could tell by Everest’s face, it wasn’t good. The body on the ground, a bleeding child?
She too was filled with dread, taking the boy from Everest and pushing him away, but Everest lingered.
He turned around, approaching the little girl, offering her a hand, feeling his heart sinking even lower. She barely took it, he noted her dark hair and another child nearby, peeking out from nearby, with fearful wide eyes.
He felt bad for the children, he felt sick to his stomach that they even experienced this. Because of them.
Was he even in the right anymore?
And I can't see from the backseat
So I'm asking from above
Can I trust what I'm given, even when it cuts?
“Halina, move!” Halina turned, though it wasn’t in time, she couldn’t dodge, and the scream was useless as the girl near her, her age, with bright red locks of hair, cut open her arms before stepping away with a grin.
She dropped to the floor, clutching the new gash with a large wince on her face, tears escaping her eyes as she looked up at Robin, eyes wide. “Why?” She questioned, beckoning for an answer.
She didn’t get one, as Robin twirled the knife, before turning to the other nearby girl, Macaria, who was staring with wide eyes at the scene.
Halina winced, it wasn’t even a second later before a knife was sailing towards Robin, though the girl in question dodged to the left, barely even phased as the knife missed her by mere millimeters and sunk into a nearby building with a comedic wiggling as it came to a sudden halt.
“Think you’re the only one who can use knives, Macaria?” Halina backed up, as Robin came to tower over her again, while keeping her eyes and attention on Macaria, “I’ve been training, you know, it’s really nice. Some of those people from that little Academy of yours have joined us in the Capitol. Maybe I could relay a message to them for you?”
Halina frowned, watching as Macaria flinched slightly at the mention of the Academy. Macaria had grown so much in the past months, she was still depressed over Alessandro, but she was much happier than she had been, especially recently. She was becoming better.
But now...Halina watched as all that unresolved anger and wrath returned with a brute force.
But Halina also spotted some of the Peacekeepers behind Macaria, ready to take her out. So she acted as she had to, kicking out at Robin’s legs, locking them between her own bent legs and pinning her with a rough push, moves she learned in her own training for the games, months and months ago.
“Macaria, move!” She warned, raising her own gun at Macaria, who out of instinct dodged, and she fired then, watching as one of the peacekeepers fell. Macaria got the clue, turning and fending off the others.
Robin rook the distraction as a chance to knock Halina back under her, though she studied the girl for a simple moment. Knife raised, ready to kill, though a flash of uncertainty entered her eyes.
“You know, your just a replacement,” She remarked to Halina, smirking slightly, “So deliver a note for me, and watch your back.”
Halina didn’t know how to respond, one moment the knife was pressed to her throat, the next, a neatly organized envelope was laid on her, as Robin ran off, escaping once again.
“Where did she go?”
Halina didn’t respond at first, glancing down at the envelope. It was addressed to Ari, but she opened it regardless.
Immediately she found herself looking away, crumpling the threatening vile thing in her hands as she turned away. Robin reminded her of the girl she used to be, vile, mean, selfish, blaming her issues in others and out to gain victory for herself.
She idolized the girl Robin once was, the girl she herself reflected of now. A kind, compassionate, sweet, but selfless warrior, who would do anything to protect family.
But she was blind, all along, to how similar they were the whole time.
And it ended with a flash, a bang, and a blackout.
So Heaven if you sent us down
So we could build a playground
For the sinners to play as saints
You'd be so proud of what we made
“We lost another.” Everest responded dimly, his eyes held such an emotionless, but pained look, glazed with misery.
“I know.” Amadrya commented, staring at the sky, as she extended her hand to intertwine with his, their rings matching, clinking together as she enclosed her hand around his.
He looked at her, before hugging her to himself, and she didn’t mind. Because it made this all a little easier to bare. It made it easier to live with.
Macaria explained early on, that if they were in this fight, it may include death and sacrifice. Amadrya agreed, but partly out of a blindness. She was convinced, that maybe even if she lost things, it would be worth it for freedom and a chance at the future.
But then they all became family, and now they couldn’t even say the names of the dead without setting of a chain reaction.
“Macaria’s breaking,” She barely blinked, she already knew that, and she knew he knew that she knew this, but she didn’t comment on the obvious knowledge.
“Can’t blame her.” Was the only response she could give.
“She’s convinced that killing Louden’s going to solve everything.”
She pondered this a moment, he had a point, killing Louden would only do so much. But it couldn’t end this war. But she understood why Macaria needed to do it. “For her, it will.”
“No, it will kill her!” He was so angry, and she felt such a strong pity. She thought nothing could hurt more than hearing his screams of pain. But his helplessness perhaps hurt more. “She has a family! She doesn’t need to die because of this!”
“None of us needed to,” She commented staring at him, clasping his hand tighter, afraid to let go, because if she did, she may lose him. “But some of us did anyways.”
All because of Louden. Louden and Robin, who killed and kille,d but called them the killers. But all along, all of them were imperfect. All of them committed unforgivable crimes. And those who were once innocent were dead or turning as tainted as the blood shed daily.
All of this, for a new tommorow, that seemed much more unlikely as the days ticked on. A war, seeming lost, as they lost another and another, as both sides did the unforgivable, broke families, fought for peace, fought for war.
It all seemed so blurred now.
“I can’t lose anyone else,” it was barely eligible to the ear, and her heart broke all over again, as she gripped his hand. Like her life depended on it.
Maybe it did?
There was a long pause, as tears budded in her eyes, “Neither can I.”
He, like he always did, wiped the tears away, though he wasn’t much better, with tears in his own eyes.
“But we will, won’t we?”
She couldn’t bring herself to respond, staring at the rain ahead. She had taken a seat at the stairwell, covered by the awning, staring at the rain pouring down.
Just in the downpour, stood a girl, with unmistakable green eyes, with a dagger in hand, sparring with the girl with unmistakable grey eyes, the topic of their conversation.
They both watched the two girls, with building sorrow.
“They’re going to get themselves killed.” Everest commented.
She knew this, she knew this too well. But she couldn’t do anything anymore.
Just like the rain, everything fell around her.
I hope you got some beds around
'Cause you're the only refuge now
For every mother, every child, every brother
That's caught in the crossfire!
When Burton took on the alias of Catullus, he did it to explore the Capitol, a spy, for the rebels.
He was the best candidate. Ari was often brash and was Robin’s main target. Amadrya was with Everest, and he refused to let either of the soon to be married couple go in his stead. Holly was too brash, too set on revenge, as was Macaria. And Halina...
He refused to cry, blinking as he continued walking through the hall, to get his thoughts to quiet down.
But he? He was charismatic, he was a good actor, and fooling people would be easy. Macaria would have done good at it, but she was too dead set on her revenge.
So he, he was the best for it.
He wasn’t caught, of course. He fit in like a glove at the Capitol, picking up on those around him. He kept control of his emotions when he heard of fights. The time was dire, and he could not fail his mission now of all times.
He had to be brave. But it was hard, especially when at the end of the Hall, he could see the crowd of desperate people crying for entry, escape from the fighting. Louden, who claimed to be merciful to his people, refused to even let innocent families into the Capitol for protection. It made him sick to his stomach.
The rebels couldn’t take anymore people, along with dwindling numbers, the rebels took in those hurt in the crossfire of battles, those hurt by Louden, those hurt by their own forces.
Children, like the young girl and her brother from 3. Mothers and fathers who lost their children to games or the war, who hid with the rebels, offering help where possible.
Robin’s family, who hoped for their loved one to have a change of heart, but realizing she wasn’t who they knew.
Alessandro’s mom, who fought on the front lines, ready to avenge the life she lost with her son, the life he could have lived.
Sisters and brothers, they were all united, and that was their last hope.
He heart gunfire, realizing a fight was occurring nearby, and the screams that followed pulled deeply at his heartstrings.
“Catullus,” a voice trilled, and he turned with a glare, fixing one of his stylists with a look. But he calmed, the brunette hair, the bright blue eyes?
It was just Olivia, who bore a small smile on her face, before it fell quickly afterwards.
Her face bore that dim look, as she caught site of the fearful people, her hand resting on the glass before her, and he sighed.
Of course, she was his confidant, the only one who knew his identity, but she didn’t dare speak it. That he was thankful for.
“They don’t deserve this,” Livia whispered, staring at the crowds trapped in pellets of rain, as the peacekeepers gathered, guns raised.
He found his throat closing, not fearful for himself, not wanting to watch, but forcing himself to look up.
“None of us do.” He found himself saying, bowing his head, ready to hear innocents killed. Another cover up for Louden, to act like it was the rebels who killed the innocent residents.
It was silence, before Livia’s breath hitched.
“It’s the rebels.” She whispered, and he looked up quickly.
Yes, he saw the aircraft, but would they be in time?
“They won’t make it in time,” he voiced his doubt aloud, wishing more than anything that he could act. But much depended on him. He had to stand still.
“You don’t know that!” He winced at her voice, backing away, turning away and walking down the hall. He couldn’t watch this. He couldn’t watch this and live with it.
He wanted to act, but too much depended on him getting the information and not getting caught. Macaria always said that war took sacrifice and she was right, but he wished she wasn’t.
He wanted to be carefree with his sisters again, spend time with his friends and family, joke, be a teen, be happy, like he was.
He wanted to be able to see a certain future, of happiness and freedom.
He stopped when he heard Livia gasp, and as he turned, he saw her and fall from the window, backing up as it went to cover her mouth.
He looked to see what caused her shock, noticing a girl in a dark green coat, the hood over her head, as she stared at Livia and him through the window. Her face was overshadowed by the hood, a small, sad smile, lay on her face. He wondered why she was staring at them, why she spooked Livia.
He froze though, as he a chain tangled between her fingers, as she approached a bit closer, setting it down, placing a kiss on the emerald surface, with a smile. And then, when she was closer, he caught sight of the jade eyes staring up at him and Livia.
He couldn’t change what would happen, no matter what he did.
But he couldn’t help but watch now with building dread.
Who's caught in the crossfire
No one was up in the middle of the night, no one to catch her, no one to stop her.
She knew more than they did. She knew they would lose.
She knew how to win. So she took the chance.
“Winning takes sacrifice.” Macaria had said once.
And maybe it would. But she was willing to do what she had to. Maybe she realized it too late, but killing Louden wouldn’t solve this all.
No, no, no, that’s what Louden wanted.
But he was killing people, Burton told them that much during a call through one of the secret communicators. It sickened her, and she realized that she still had empathy in that cold, hollow heart of hers.
“Think your brave, Alandria? It’ll take a little more than tricks to win.” Alessandro told her once, before the games. She hated them then, she never really liked him, but she never had the chance to.
“You are more than revenge,” she remembered rolling her eyes, despite Amadrya’s words sticking with her. “Are you just wanting revenge?” Everest, “When will you realize there’s more to life than revenge?” Burton asked her once.
“You know, that’s a lot like Robin’s supposed goal, and look where she is,” Ari reminded once.
In hindsight the one that mattered most to her was what was driving her now.
“They can’t win if we keep what’s important in mind,” Halina had told her once.
“What’s that?” She questioned back, deciding to humor the young girl.
“There’s more to life than this war, and so many are suffering. If we give up, then everyone who dies will be for nothing, and those who live will just be prisoners.”
Halina had been so sad on that day, yet somehow, she was maybe the most hopeful of them all.
It hadn’t really been hard to sneak out, because Burton warned them of what would come, when it would. No one was there in the night.
No one would allow her to try, so she had to do it alone.
Green coat, with a hood perched over her head, obscuring her face, with a green and black scarf covering her mouth, curled around her neck. Her hair still stuck with wild strands, as she had stepped into the frigid air. Though her eyes looked past the snowy hills, before she started her trek. It was easier on foot.
Diana had set out a plan of attack on the next day, but it wouldn’t save those who would die due to Louden, his people he would sacrifice, it would only help further the point. Everyone accepted that some had to die.
But Holly couldn’t do it anymore.
At the top of that hill, she had looked back at the base, with a frown on her face. She couldn’t change this war, but should couldn’t let someone else die needlessly.
So she stood in the square, along with many civilians of the Capitol, who cuddled their children close to them. One poor child she passed had no jacket, having been rushed out of the city due to the traps Louden set, seeking shelter, thinking the rebels were to blame.
She knew it was dangerous, but if she earned anything from her family, some things were worth it, she couldn’t risk taking off her jacket. But she took the scarf off, kneeling down and wrapping it around the little blonde’s neck, hoping to quell her shivering.
The big brown eyes that looked at her made her more determined, so wide and fearful, like she was as a child. Above her, her mother thanked Holly for giving the scarf, but she shook it off.
She turned, finding that the peacekeepers were already preparing themselves, but she found someone staring at her.
Staring at her from the building, through a glass window, a locked door. She hadn’t seen Livia in a while, but the girl seemed to recognize her.
She stepped closer, fiddling with the amulet in her hand, before she noticed a male approach beside Livia.
He was hard to recognize, but she gave a sad smile at Burton, he didn’t recognize her yet. Which was good, Livia was trained to pick out details, and Livia gave her this jacket once upon a time.
She approached closer, as close as she could get, setting the amulet down as she stared up at her two friends. She watched as dread and recognition pooled in her best friend’s eyes, and as tears welled in Livia’s.
She turned, taking a deep breath in, as she raised both hands to her hood, the Peacekeepers seemed distracted by the gunfire of the approaching rebels, so she had a chance now. She pulled it back, raising her voice.
“I know that you don’t trust us,” She commented, drawing the attention of many, who gaped and gasped, “But we don’t have time for trust, Louden had ordered his troops to fire on civilians, and has already done so.” No one moved a muscle, so she stared to the side, Peacekeepers were noticing the commotion now. “Just Run!” She screamed, as the first of the peacekeepers fired into the crowd.
Like rabbits, the gunfire sent them into a frenzy, and she ran to help out as she could, as rebels approached the square.
Her eyes were wide, her goal was done, she needed to lead people to safety now, before they died. Some followed her, trusting her as her words spoke true.
But it wouldn’t matter.
Someone’s always caught in thee crossfire.
She just never expected it to be her.
Her gaze focused forwards, but she didn’t know who fired the shot, because one step, she’s leading the blonde girl and her mom and others towards the rebels.
The next, someone had mistimed their gun towards the little girl, noticing her movement, and Holly had moved her out of the way.
For a last act, at least it was something good. It was better than revenge, but nothing more than a sacrifice.
Fitting, for the one who had always let others be the sacrificed.
Who’s caught on the cross
It didn’t really matter whose perspective it was. In the end, it didn’t matter who lived and died.
A realization was all it took, to see that inaction lead to loss, but giving up lead to it too.
Alessandro, Halina, and Holly were all buried together, gravestones baring their names.
Change, hope, and sacrifice.
All caught in the crossfire of a war they fought in.
All killed in the conflict they tried to end.
But due to them, a better future was possible.
Amadrya rubbed her stomach, where future rested with her growing baby.
Everest stood to her side, baring scars, but none could own up to the scars of the heart.
Ari looked down, flowers in hand as he placed them on the graves.
Burton joked softly, knowing all three would have groaned and laughed.
Macaria smiled, despite her tears, having lost a possible future of love, and two sisters that meant the world to her.
The world was cruel. War was cruel.
And too many were hurt in the conflict.
In the end, was it worth it?
Nothing was worth it.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Nov 30, 2019 17:25:12 GMT -5
“What did you just say?” I ask
I’m in the rebel base, standing in my room with two teenage girls who look awfully similar to me, both girls with light golden brown hair and brown eyes. The taller of the two shifts a little, obviously a little nervous, but holds her ground.
“We want to be part of the rebellion,” Lea replies
I know that was what she’d said, of course I did, but her words floor me still. They make my heart drop to my feet
“No,” I say “you can’t. I mean, Lea, you’re fifteen, but Twylla’s only thirteen. She’s too young.”
I look between the two girls, falling silent for a moment. Then I take their hands and guide them to sit down beside me so we can talk about this seriously.
“You have to understand that I love the both of you so much, it broke me having to leave you for the games. Everyone I love is already in danger, I don’t want you to be included in that. I can’t lose you.”
“Halina’s only fifteen,” Lea pointed out “same age as me.”
“Halina is also a trained career,” I point out “and she’s not my sister.”
“Burton, please listen to us,” Twylla says “it’s not like we haven’t thought about all of this.”
“We almost lost you before,” Lea begins “we had to watch helplessly while you suffered in the Arena, knowing you couldn’t be there. We watched you go through the pain of Holly and the others being captured, saw how brave you were. We can’t just stand by and watch and do nothing. You’re our brother. And I really don’t think you’ve thought for a second about the effect all of this has had on us. Our family. We lose you again and again.”
“You’re right, Lea, you’re exactly right,” I sigh “I didn’t think about you guys. And I’m not going to apologise for that because I’ve been too busy spending the last few months trying desperately to stay alive so I can get back to you in one piece. I never asked to be part of this. And I don’t think you know what you’re getting into at all, and if you did you would let me handle this on my own.”
“We can’t let you do this alone-“
“You’re just a kid!” I shout
The raising of my voice shocks both of the girls, who start and fall silent. They aren’t used to be shouting or being angry with them, not really. It makes me feel instantly guilty, so I put my head in my hands for a moment to take a deep breath.
“You don’t understand,” I continue “you don’t understand what I’ve been through because if it did it would break you, and I’d much rather bear that burden on my own. But you have no idea what you’re agreeing to. This isn’t your fight, and all it’s going to do is scar you and possibly cost you your lives. You have no idea what you’d be doing to mom and dad either, you’d kill them.”
“We care about the cause, Burton,” Lea murmurs “and if we were anyone else you’d say yes.”
“Sure, but I’m not anyone else’s big brother, am I?”
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Dec 1, 2019 4:12:13 GMT -5
I could be your bride
But I can't promise I won't break your heart
I got a note to Everest earlier today, telling him to meet me outside the rebel base when it gets dark. We need to talk, and I don’t want the others eavesdropping on us (as they inevitably do) or the rebels hovering round us.
It’s a few days before the wedding. I’m standing outside in silvery moonlight, dresses in a dark turtleneck jumper and jeans, a long coat over the top of it to keep out the chill of the clear night. I’d gotten out of bed and gotten changed, so my hair is loose and wild, unbrushed. A light but cold breeze stirs it. I pull the coat closer around me, realising that despite everything I still underestimated the cold. It’s strange, because in the arena this would be a normal night. I was always cold or hungry or thirsty., and usually I was more than one of those things. Supplies were limited. But it’s like I’ve forgotten that I’ve been through worse. Probably because the rebellion feels far worse than the arena.
I hear footsteps, and see Everest approaching. So he managed to get out
“Hey,” he greets “what’s all this about?”
I bite my lip, shake my head, and look down. Tears are welling in my eyes. This gets Everest concerned, and he takes my hands.
“Maddie?” Everest asks “what’s going on?”
“What are we doing?” I say as I look up to meet his eyes
“What do you mean?” he asks, but I know he knows what I mean
“Getting married,” I say
Everest’s eyebrows knit together, and there is a long pause where he looks at our linked hands.
“Why?”
And I can feel my heart breaking with that question. He wants to know why it’s a bad idea. I know he must be worrying about what I’m about to say. But I take a deep breath.
“We’re so broken, and I don’t know if we should get married when we’re not even whole ourselves. I’m in constant pain, I have constant bad memories, and it would break your heart to see me like that. And the war, I mean, we could die any day and so is that really when we want to do this. Is this the time to think about starting out lives together? Do we really want to do this in the middle of a war? I’m...”
I look again at Everest, and sigh. My voice has a tinge offrustration in it, because fear and hesitation in my part always has me frustrated. And talking about feelings can be annoying sometimes, when they’re negative feelings especially. I don’t want to admit this.
“I’m just scared,”
There’s another pause, before Everest makes almost a disbelieving scoffing sound.
“Me too,” he replies
But he goes on.
“But that’s why we have to do it. The future is scary and uncertain right now. We’ve lost people, and if that doesn’t show you that tomorrow isn’t guaranteed I don’t know what does. We could die even before the wedding. But if you’re worried about hurting me or something, don’t be. I’ve seen you at your worst, and vice versa. I mean, I’ve almost lost you before. We’re both broken, yes, but that doesn’t matter. If you want to wait until we’re not broken, you’re going to be waiting a very long time. All I know is that I love you. I know you’re worried about breaking my heart, but honestly having my heart broken by you would be a privilege.”
I kiss him then, and when I pull away things don’t seem quite so bad anymore.
“I love you so much,” I say “and I wouldn’t mind having my heart broken by you either.”
I love him, I’ll promise to marry him. All that’s true. But what I cannot promise is that he won’t lose me. That I won’t die or that I won’t become so damaged and broken that all I do is hurt him. I don’t want to put that in him, but he doesn’t seem to care.
He loves me anyway.
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Dec 1, 2019 14:54:27 GMT -5
(I have the next chapters mapped out! I have a feeling they are going to be super fun and shock some people!
The next section with include one intermission, and chapters 17-30, detailing the adaption fo the prisoners to freedom, overcoming past actions, facing consequences, and the horrifying brutality that faces the rebels and the civilians of Panem.
Plus, you know, death.)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Dec 1, 2019 14:57:52 GMT -5
I am hyped!)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Dec 1, 2019 16:42:02 GMT -5
(The intermission will be up soon :3.)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Dec 1, 2019 16:43:23 GMT -5
Ooh exciting!
I’m writing a post from Aspen Kaine’s perspective for some reason because I felt like trying it)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Dec 1, 2019 16:59:37 GMT -5
“Aspen Kaine!”
For what feels like a long time, I don’t move. I’m a small figure in the crowd, twelve years old. I’m wearing my best dress, and my mother tried and failed to tame my wild red curls. It is probably only a few seconds before I move, but it feels like a long time.
The girls around me step back, creating a circle around me and drawing the announcer’s eye to me as she beckons me onto the stage. I can hear someone screaming my name, and I don’t have to look to know it’s Oren. My big brother. I hate this, I hate it so much. Not because I’m scared of dying, though I am no matter how pointless it might be, but because I don’t want him to have to lose me. I know he and my parents are going to be put through a lot of pain and I wish I could spare them from that. But I can’t.
I take a deep breath, putting a lot of concentration into not crying because I know that’s bad. That’s only something you do if you want to pretend you’re weaker than you are when really you’re strong. I’m not old enough or strong enough for that to work.
And my movements are almost robotic, I’m not even thinking about them. But just as I put my foot on the first step of the stage I hear a new sound.
“I volunteer as tribute!”
I hear gasps, and as I’m pulled back into the crowd, relieved tears slipping down my cheek, I see a young woman make her way past me. I know her, Oren hangs around with her and her cousins sometimes. Her name is...
“Amadrya Darrow.”
I am so thankful to her for what she did, because I know she is sacrificing herself for me. Though I guess she has a reasonable chance of winning.
And as we leave the square, Oren pulls me in for a tearful hug.
———————
After the reaping, my family decided to go and visit Amadrya in the Justice Building before she has to go on the train. We ought to thank her in whatever way we know how.
And so when we get there, I am ushered inside a plush room along with my parents and Oren. Amadrya is sitting on a chair, but rises to greet us when we enter. She doesn’t show a lot of emotion, but I see the surprise at our presence flash across her eyes. She at first always looked very intimidating and scary, tall and strong and sharp-faced. She stands with her arms crossed. But up close I can see the youth in her face, because it is easy to forget that she’s only eighteen.
My father shakes her hand, my mother and Oren hug her, as do I.
“Thank you,” my father says “so much.”
“You saved my life,” I add
“Someone had to,” Amadrya replies “don’t mention it.”
She then fixes her gaze on my father.
“Listen, I know you’re friends with my uncle, and Oren is friends with my cousins. You’re family friends. I know you were friends with father when he was alive, that you knew my mother. This, it’s...a favour.”
We all know it is more than a favour, but we understand the girl’s sentiment. Still, I take off the bracelet around my wrist and offer it to her. It is made of woven grass with two wooden charms, a tree and a leaf.
“Will you take this?” I ask “as your tribute token, you know?”
Amadrya smiles and takes it, slipping it into her wrist.
“Of course,” she replies “thanks, kid.”
The peacekeeper bangs on the door, warns us that we’ve only got another minute. For the first time, I actually see the nerves flash around Amadrya’s eyes, and see her begin to fidget. Is she realising that her time will be up soon and she’ll have to be on the train to the Capitol.
“Have you seen your uncle and cousins?” my dad asks
When Amadrya nods hurriedly, looking more nervous by the second, my dad smiles.
“Good. And listen, you’ll be fine. You’re strong, you’re smart, you know what you’re doing. I know you have every chance of winning. And never forget that you saved my daughter’s life today, I know we never will.”
Amadrya thanks him, and at that moment we turn to leave. But as we walk away Amadrya catches Oren’s wrist.
“I did this,” she says to him, “so you gotta promise me that you’ll keep an eye on my cousins, my uncle. Make sure they’re okay.”
“I promise,” Oren nods, and only then does she let do of his wrist.
——————
Amadrya was doing well in the Games, until it all went horribly wrong. Now she’s in the Capitol, and there’s some kind of rebellion happening. Peacekeepers swarm the district now, and they’re so much crueler than they used to be. It’s scary.
But the worst thing is when Amadrya appears on TV. She’s dressed in all these poofy dresses, wearing makeup and smiling, and telling us that the Capitol is right to punish the rebels, that the districts are out of line. That we can only be safe and happy by obeying the Capitol.
The whole district is furious at her, of course. Say she’s turned into some kind of Capitol lapdog. Her cousins and uncle are gone, which is good because if they were still around I don’t think it would be good for them. People would hurt them.
And I don’t understand either, I feel so betrayed. Amadrya sacrifices herself to protect me, but then she tells me that the way we are treated in the districts is okay? That my family, who have taken the side of the rebels, are criminals? Some people say she’s being tortured into it but most of us don’t know what to believe anymore. We saw Alessandro executed though, which told us all we needed to know about the dangers of going against the Capitol.
District 7 is in danger, all the districts are. And I’m scared. I don’t know who to trust anymore.
Nothing feels right.
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Dec 1, 2019 17:03:13 GMT -5
Intermission
“You thought you could keep a secret?”
The voice was foreign, but so, so familiar, and an overwhelming guilt hit like bricks.
“I didn’t know!” She begged, curling in over herself, tears in her eyes. “I didn’t know what it meant, I’m sorry!”
“It’s your fault that they ever ended up here.” The voice trilled, and looking up, the girl could see the red hair. Robin, this was Robin. “It could have just been you, or maybe...maybe you could have told them about it, saved me...but you didn’t, and look where we are.”
“I said I didn’t know!” She screamed back, standing up, “I didn’t know what it meant and I’m so sorry.” It was dry, a false apology, because now teeming anger was filling her veins, “I’m so sorry that your a coward and could never stand up for yourself or take a chance to kill Louden. I’m soooo sorry that you couldn’t rely on others to save you, man, I just wonder who else has dealt with that!” She placed her hand on her chest in exaggerated manner, “Literally all of us! We tried to kill each other, Robin, in that Arena! So don’t blame me for your issues! Because the decisions you made? That’s on you!”
Robin backed up, her eyes turning to a glare, narrowed dangerously. “Excuse me?” She snapped, her hands tensing around bow and arrow.
“Yeah, you heard me!” A smirk was back on her face, staggering forward, despite the blood from a cut above her right eyebrow, and her split lip, “You can’t just blame everyone else for you being a terrible person. I made my choices, they made theirs, and you made yours.”
Robin raised the bow, aiming for the girl before her, who didn’t even flinch, smirk on her face. But Robin wasn’t having this, letting go of the arrow, letting it sail towards the other girl, though it didn’t hit, it missed by mere inches. The other girl had looking at it, eyes wide. And Robin smirked at the girl in response, walking forward.
“You’re gonna regret that, Alandria.”
—
“What do you mean we lost them?” Amadrya demanded, glaring at Ari as he backed up, eyes wide.
“I mean that Diana told me that they’re gone.” Ari responded, raising his hands, a frown on his face.
“How are they gone?” She questioned, fiddling with a ring on her finger, it wasn’t the prettiest thing, but it was the best thing she had, and the thing mst close to her heart. “They were here yesterday!”
“I mean that...sometime during the night, they left!” Ari shouted, wincing in pain as he moved, but she didn’t move much, gripping her head and pulling at her hair, eyes wide.
“Where could they have gone?” She whispered, looking up, with wide, frantic eyes, at the forest just beyond the window. She noted numbly, the storm clouds, grey and full, ready to attack with pellets of fat raindrops, ice, or snow. She already knew where they went, but she didn’t want to accept it.
“You know as well as where they would go,” he commented, turning to look north-east, out of sight, but in the direction, was the Capitol.
“Are we sure?” It was hollow, a beg for something else to be true. But of course, no one could say for certain where the missing rebels went. But intuition, plus their goals, could tell them exactly where they went.
“No,” Ari decided to answer anyways, his voice sounded hoarse, stress wasn’t good for him, not in his condition, but still. “No, we don’t know for sure. But we do know where they went, and if we want to make sure they live, we need to find them.”
She nodded, before something just outside, at the clearing of the trees, caught her eyes.
Outside, laying along the banks of snow in the tree line, was a person. It was one of the missing rebels, hunted down, it seemed, like prey.
Beside it, was blood, a lot of it, and the body laying on the ground.
—
They looked up at Louden, shaking as they watched the scene unfold before them, staggered breaths, tears in their eyes, as they stared up.
“Want that to happen to you?” He questioned as his peacekeepers finished off the other person nearby, the body dropping quickly, with a sickening crunch as it landed in the snow.
“You...you killed-“ their next words were a jumbled mess, as they wiped their tears away. Strength, they needed strength.
“Stop stating the obvious,” Louden spoke, walking forward and grabbing them by the collar of their coat, lifting them slightly as he bore his eyes into theirs, though they held strong to keep their fear from showing. “I won’t hesitate to do that again,”
They gulped, closing their eyes, they felt like they lost everything now, but that didn’t matter.
“Or,” they opened their eyes, looking at him, as he graced them with a smile that had them frowning deeply, “Or you can join me, and you will be fine, what do you say-?”
He spoke their name, and they sighed deeply. What did fighting get them anyways? He let them go, giving them time to make their decision.
So they looked at the dead body nearby, thinking over their option, curling into a ball on the ground.
Then they stared up, spotting him outstretching a hand towards them, and they found themselves smiling ruefully. They took the hand given to them, standing up, uttering words they once dreaded.
“Let’s make a deal.”
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Dec 1, 2019 17:04:29 GMT -5
(Some chapters may be combined. Some may spotlight certain character(specifically Burton, Amadrya, Macaria, Halina and Holly. And you know, sometimes Ari.
And so,times Everest so EVERYONE but whatever.)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Dec 1, 2019 17:07:43 GMT -5
Oh my gosh that was amazing omg omg omg that was so dramatic. Your cliffhangers are the best
I’m so excited for the rest of the story)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Dec 1, 2019 18:08:11 GMT -5
(Feel free to speculate stuff!)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Dec 1, 2019 18:14:56 GMT -5
Also, that was really good!
My muse is running so high right now :3.)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Dec 4, 2019 23:59:46 GMT -5
All aboard the angst train. First perspective, a bit of background from Holly’s perspective to the song ‘Lifeboat’ from Heathers. I watched some videos that gave me muse, some of children who experienced bullying for ridiculous things they can’t control, one had cancer. I got this cryptic idea about how Holly came to gain this fear of being forgotten by creating a faux realistic situation that is dark in nature, but I could totally see in this universe.
I’m not sure if I’m gonna make it canon, but I’m honestly thinking about it. It’s a dark idea, but would explain a lot about how Holly chose to persist rather than give in, Why she trusted someone like Burton(honest, open, she had nothing to lose) and why she never trusted some people(Like Macaria).
Plus, I’m a sucker for betrayal plots, and I totally wanted to add in Holly being savage. When. People betray your trust enough, when they show how selfish they are, how much they don’t care, you become extremely apathetic and it’s harder to form meaningful relationships. I’ve experienced this before(not to this degree), but it is slightly based on that, that’s why I really thought it was interesting to include. Lus, some stuff about Lancaster and Lenore and why Holly had no siblings and why she was ever born when she wasn’t wanted.
All in all, I’m happy with this. I flash just listening to music, heard the song, and it brought to life all of these ideas and imagery, so all credit goes to the song. I float in a boat
In a raging black ocean
Low in the water
With no where to go
The tiniest lifeboat
With people I know
I cry a lot.
I don’t like it, I don’t really mean to either. But even from a young age, I cried a lot. Whining constantly about injustice, as I called it, about the wrongs of the world and asking my mother ”Why must innocent children die?”
From a very young age, I grew up in a world of death and despair. I learned quickly that while some children were pure and sweet, not all were, and in reality, many of us were tainted.
It started at a young age, just as all things really do. My father was sometimes drunk, sometimes despairing or off somewhere working, but he loved my mother. My mother was often separated from me, never the one to show a lot of love, maybe from fear of losing me to the games. She never broke another child after me, and when I asked?
”Mother, if you don’t like kids why am I here?” I would ask, standing at her feet, like a little puppy begging for attention.
I remember her response so clearly, it shook me to my core, itturned my sweet innocent mind to the truth of this world. ”Because I didn’t want you, you just happened.”
She was always a honest, but not often so blunt. She was soft spoken, a pushover, really. But despite her saying those words, she showered me in genuine acts of affection. My father just showered her in it, though he and I would talk seriously about lively things, such as what life was really like outside of our little home.
At 5, I learned how to stitch so I could help my mother, at 6, father and I would talk about the games. In the years after, he trained me by having me carefully watch the games like a hawk, spot any mistakes the tributes would make, show me how to hide. He said that, while unlikely, the chance of getting into the games was random still,and despite them saying ”May the odds be in your favor”, the odds weren’t really in yours. The Careers had lifetimes to train, he would say, so I had to catch up Incase my name was ever chosen.
It was at this time too, that my father decided to show me how to use some weapons. Hatchets, bows, I wasn’t too good in many of them, but the swords and katanas? Narrow, sharp blades? They were easier for me, easier than something like an axe. He could never let me keep one, they belongs to his work, after all, but he still taught me the basics. He said that those who had experience going into the arena had the best shot.
My mother would never talk about the games, she acted as if they were a poison to mention. She never had any family in the games, but they still scarred her, year after year. So dad and I wouldn’t bring it up with her.
It was soon, just in my early teenage years, when my mother was hung, it was grey on that day, with fat clouds looming in the sky. I remember the soreness in my throat still, as I screamed angrily for her, begging her to just stick up for herself. Instead, she remained silent, preferring to die with her friend than live on with her family.
I cried a lot before then, but I never cried so much as I did that day. In the darkness, I laid awake, waiting. With building dread in my throat. My father hadn’t been to sleep yet, he always was so open about his emotions, crying often, but not too often. Mother was a broken women, but father was just a man trying to survive.
At least, that’s how I justified him. I never really knew what drew him to leave. I thought he had cared for my well being, had loved me. But he’s rather start anew elsewhere than be left with the reminder of his late wife.
It was a bit odd, how the sky can reflect what you feel. So many days, the clouds cried along with me, mourning everything I had lost. In the darkness, I felt at home, but never at peace, and in the light, I could never feel hope.
I guess that one could say my life was like a breaking boat, sinking slowly into the water with no hope of return, ready to suffer horribly slow. A tempest striking, lightning rumbling all the shattered planks, and a crying little girl, sitting aboard all alone, surrounded by everyone she once new. All leaving her behind once again.
I never trusted again.
Cold, clammy, and crowded
The people smell desperate
We'll sink any minute
So someone must go
The tiniest lifeboat
With the people I know
I used to love school as a child. I excelled in every class, was the teachers pet constantly, I always brought gifts to those I knew, laughing and joking and being as sweet as could be.
Tragedy changes everything. As my life hit rock bottom within the span of a single day, I stopped talking outwardly, I stopped with my gifts, I stopped functioning.
The teachers? They were sympathetic to my situation, most were, and encouraged me to get through it. The students weren’t as kind.
Before the death of my mother, Lenore, I had a close knit group of friends. They encouraged me through everything, they dealt with joy, and in return I awarded them gifts galore. The closest of these friends was a girl ironically named Rayne. She had eyes of sky blue, and hair that resembled a natural coral color. She was popular in our school, full of teens striving to be the best, she was, in our opinion, the best. Pretty, rich, and seemingly sweet.
After the death of my mother, Rayne and the others tended to leave me be. I thought they were giving me space, as friends should do. But it wasn’t as kind hearted. Weeks, then months went by, and the next reaping had approached near when Rayne had cornered me. It was odd for her to do, but as I always did, I didn’t speak about it.
“So, Holly,” She beckoned, checking her nails as she placed on hand on her hip, her gaze locked on them, as if they were much more important than I was.
“Hello, Rayne.” I had responded, as I usually did when spoken to. But I didn’t really speak, I just hid in my shell, as I always did.
“The reapings are approaching,” She pointed out, and I knew she was wanting to cause gossip, or spread rumors. She tended to do so, but we always saw it as a purpose of entertainment. Still, I knew she would approach her point quickly, I just hadn’t expected her argument. “Why don’t you volunteer?”
I thought she was joking at first, but one look at the stare she had been facing me with, and I knew she wasnt. I had sputtered, blinking quickly, confusion had been written over my face like a canvas, “Why-“ I had coughed to clear my throat then, “W-why exactly would I do that?”
She laughed, like I was some fool, like a ignorant child who had no inkling of left from right. “Obvious, you don’t have anything to live for.”
It was silence, silence had become a reoccurring theme of my life. Though I saw she wasn’t proceeding, like she didn’t see anything wrong in her statement. “Excuse me?”
I hadn’t really noticed, but my voice had firmed, much more defensive, a tactic I used to exhibit.
“I mean, isn’t it obvious? Most kids have a family,” I had winced at the words, though she bore a smile on her face, her sharp eyes narrowed, grin just a bit forced, a bit too proud, “You don’t, no one’s going to miss you when you die.”
The words had cut deep. I didn’t have a retort to it, I didn’t have a response. Nothing other than, “I can’t do that.”
Rayne had taken up an angry visage then, cornering me further, causing me to back up against a wall. “What good does someone like you serve anyway?” I’m pretty sure she forgot the word orphan, “Taking up space, stealing precious time, letting others go off and die when they have people who will miss them! I can’t believe how selfish you are!”
“People would miss me!” I had retorted, angel in my voice as I stepped closer to her in a weak attempt to appear stronger than I was.
She had snorted, looking me in the eyes, “Who?”
I couldn’t find an answer.
Everyone's pushing
Everyone's fighting
Storms are approaching
There's nowhere to hide
If I say the wrong thing
Or I wear the wrong outfit
They'll throw me right over the side
Past that moment, Rayne had made it her personal message to drive me into volunteering in the games. She tried being sweet, but it turned much more dark later on.
She had gotten her friends involved in her antics, and that was her advantage. She had friends.
I didn’t.
Verbal abuse, or physical when they saw fit. They really thought they were doing the right thing. But the fact was, they were all already 14, or approaching it before the reaping. My birthday wasn’t until after.
Which meant they had their name entered once more, increasing their chances of getting in. And in District 8? No matter how popular or sweet, no one ever volunteered unless they personally knew the chosen.
And Rayne and her followers? They didn’t have anyone who would do that for them. So they targeted the weakest person they knew. The most vulnerable, broken person they could.
And, to be completely honest, they almost succeeded. I was jealous of so many children, left alone. Rayne’s father was rich, funded the school, and all the teachers who I thought had my back turned a blind eye to what was happening out of fear of being fired.
I literally had no one on my side. But it wasn’t too bad, it was soon that I had found an orphan cat. One I named Catastrophe. I took her in, treating her starving nature in my broken state, healing the worst of the wounds.
The wounds of loss and sorrow.
I had adopted a crueler attitude. Becoming sarcastic. My views on innocence shifted, because no one, no one was innocent. I learned never to trust, never to open up to anyone who could leave me behind. So I didn’t.
“Still resilient, Berry?”
“Name’s not Berry, Raindrop,” I used an old nickname to mock her, turning round to face her with a sneer. “It’s Holly, though with your twisted mentality, you’re obviously too dumb to understand that, I guess.”
She bristled, but snorted, “Raindrop? That’s the best you can do?”
“It’s an old name, though, when people don’t benefit you anymore, they’re really no good, huh?” This is how I talked with mostly everyone now, disrespectful, blunt, sardonic, a mood of satire came off me in waves, and a complete apathy to the world around me.
It was because of Rayne that I had developed a fear of becoming forgotten. Because I didn’t know of anyone who would remember me as anything but a sob story, as anything at all. I became determined not to die, and she never expected it. She wanted me to give in, but I didn’t.
“Plenty of people are good, but it’s a matter of politics. It is survival of the fittest.” She was a snob, I could tell so much now. But I rolled my eyes all the same.
“You have no understanding of that phrase. You see, I’m more fit than anyone else to survive. Let’s recap,” I smiled, narrowing my eyes at her, “You live a spoiled life, with a rich daddy and mommy who give you everything you want, and you get people to follow you like ducks because you blackmail them into fearing you when you have a few secrets under your belt to use against them.” A snort, “I have lived alone for years, fending for myself and fighting off the dangers myself. I may not have any friends, but I’m not a fake, and I don’t look like you, so...”
“As if!”
“So, I survive, you live. If we’re saying survival of the fittest, you wouldn’t survive a day.” I finished, “And that’s why you don’t want to be in these games. Because your scared, so you want someone else to step up just Incase your name is called.”
I didn’t stop there, and maybe I should have.
“And when your name is called, you’ll know it’s karma coming to kiss your ass goodbye.”
I’m hugging my knees
And the captain is pointing
Well who made her captain?
Still, the weakest must go
The tiniest lifeboat
Full of people I know
When her name is called at the reaping, I only stare at her from the crowd, watching her crying and falling apart. I know she won’t last a second in that arena, I know she will never see this District again.
And yet, it feels like bricks are lifted from my back. Like somehow, I’m getting revenge on her. As if it’s my doing. And as terrible as it is, a satisfying ease comes with seeing her chosen.
Her eyes search frantically for the crowd, before they fall on me, wide and tearful. She raises her hand, pointing at me and screaming her head off, “You! Your fault! Your fault!” She screams like a maniac, kicking and fighting against the peacekeepers. I know that most don’t see who she’s pointing to, because it’s waving, directed at a large crowd of girls. But I know, and some of her followers know.
And I know it’s not over. It never really is. With her gone, most leave me alone.
“Hey Hollow,” a past boyfriend of hers addresses me, I hate him and everything he stands for. I know he mocks me, but I can’t find myself arguing with the name.
“Hey douchebag,” I comment back, staring back at him as I pass by, before turning back, “Miss your girlfriend?”
It earns exactly what I expected, but I only grin in response as he flies at me, all punches and anger. It was rude of me, but he followed everything she did and knew. And I could never really regret having said the words.
Despite a bloody lip, I laugh at him, “You know, she never cared about you or anyone.” He knows this too, as she raises his arm, I can see the doubt in his eyes, the longing that someone care, “She only cared about herself.”
I didn’t expect him to have a knife, and in my defense, it’s called payback.
Still, I hide the scars to this day.
But like all scars, they never heal, they never fade. They just remind me.
No matter who I know. No matter who I trust nor love.
It will never matter, because the inevitable truth?
No one will ever love me back.
And no one is worth the effort of trying for.
Not even myself.
The tiniest lifeboat
Full of people I know
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Dec 5, 2019 1:40:44 GMT -5
That was amazing! I’m hoping to get something up sometime today)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Dec 5, 2019 17:56:34 GMT -5
(Man I is a busy person.)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Dec 6, 2019 0:54:09 GMT -5
Oof big mood)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Dec 6, 2019 17:25:08 GMT -5
(Honestly it is.
Mais, c‘est le weekend!)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Dec 6, 2019 17:27:56 GMT -5
Indeed it is! I wanna write something but idk what
I was gonna do something (loosely) based on All You Wanna Do from Six the musical for Macaria because I do have this idea that she was definitely kind of objectified/had bad past relationships before Alessandro and that might be interesting to write about)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Dec 6, 2019 17:34:26 GMT -5
(Oh year!
That could be interesting!)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Dec 6, 2019 17:36:27 GMT -5
Yeah honestly it could? But I don’t know. I have a lot of muse but no specific ideas so I’m really not too sure what I’d want to do. I’ll think of something)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Dec 6, 2019 22:43:43 GMT -5
Okay not Au idea, but just general idea.
Who would our girls be in comparison to Six characters?
Like, Macaria’s obviously K. Howard.
I mean, we could use characters like Holly, Amadrya, Halina, Macaria, and two others from the 90th games? Like I said, it’s not on the basis of the story, but...an idea for something I might write.
And I’m kind of basing it on their personalities loosely anyways. I mean, obviously each has their own attitudes that are very lovable, and they don’t be have to be just like the characters from the musical.)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Dec 6, 2019 23:20:01 GMT -5
Ideas thus far:
The AU: All six girls are ghosts who comment on their lives and stuff. So it’s a ghost Au, because I’m a sucker for what these girls would do in the aftermath of the games.
Catherine Aragon: Amadrya. In the lines, it mentions her strength and confidence, and her song No Way is kind of befitting to Amadrya,ma girl no one can push around.
AB: Halina
JS: ???
AC: ???
KH: Macaria. As you mentioned with All U Wanna Do, She May have had that kind of past, but she’s also just a character whose been pushed around a lot and what everyone else expected her to be.
CP: Holly? Mostly from the fact that in the au(not of the musical) that I’m wanting to write, this would probably make the most amount of sense. But the he in this would be the winner of the games, Burton, and she’s the one who saw him ‘to the end of his life’ in the arena. Plus, I totally see her being salty like 100% of the time.
I’d like to include Halina and Destiny too, the the above is subject to change and very flexible, just ideas.)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Dec 7, 2019 1:07:41 GMT -5
Hmmmmm
I could see Halina as AB?
I love this idea btw)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Dec 7, 2019 1:26:04 GMT -5
(Yes, I agree :3.
I’m deciding on the last two spots....any suggestions?)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Dec 7, 2019 1:34:21 GMT -5
Hmm the other two spots are hard
Like for AC I’m trying to think of who we have left who’s ‘not very prim and proper’, who has Anne’s swagger and all that. Tough
And JS is even tougher, I don't think any of our characters are quite as soft and gentle, though any of our girls could have her toughness and ‘heart of stone’. We need a character who’s soft on the outside but has this toughness)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Dec 7, 2019 10:08:48 GMT -5
(That’s true...)
(Or we could just create brand new characters for this because I’ve been wanting to make OCs.
I’m honestly open to anything.(
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