not sorry for your loss ☠︎︎ 93rd (f/t)
Apr 16, 2023 22:34:59 GMT -5
Post by marcellus rhodes 11b arc on Apr 16, 2023 22:34:59 GMT -5
Flynn was hoping someone else would come home. That the person stepping off the train six hours ago was coming home rather than just making a stop. During the recap of the Games, they made an effort to highlight Johnny and Flynn for a second. I never really talked to Johnny - didn't give a shit to try anyway. That's how it was with most of the tributes I saw on the screen. As they highlighted each tribute and their deaths, I realized how little most of them meant to me.
Not that they should, they're fucking dead. But it means less to the families that I have to talk to, or the victors that I now join the ranks of.
Victor, holy shit man, that's still something I'm not used to either. They followed the recap of the Games with an interview. They asked how it felt to be one along with many other stupid fuckin' questions meant to fill the thirty-minute time slot they created for the interview. Regardless, it doesn't feel real still. But I guess it never will. It'll just be my life now, and I'll have to get used to it. Absorb the title. I get to belong for once, but I'll have to be known as a victor who won because some dude killed himself. I didn't properly earn it, as Dyno's bitch sister said back in One. But I'm alive, motherfucker, and that's more than his head can say.
Anyway, District Six. Somehow, somewhere, Flynn hoped that his boyfriend would be coming home. And I certainly was not his boyfriend. Maybe he'll get over it - I don't even know if he's mad at me. He should give me some fuckin grace. I killed Mirage and she killed Johnny - so I think it's pretty full circle.
Six was not in the list of stops I'm interested in making. Not many of them are. I just got done with Five. Niko's sister was a tough sight to see. I'd consider saying something to Svet's family once we get to Seven. Maybe about how she had a bite to her that I respected. She was a lot of our brawn. I'd probably stop by Ten for Elm. Otherwise, I don't give a rats ass where I am. They just better not keep the good shit away from me. The District was holding a formal, as most do, and the higher-end cases of the citizens would be there. Wealthier statuses who weren't there for me. They were here to say they got the invite. Probably say something about me to spread gossip - I'm not their victor. What do they have to hold back from? Nothing, as far as I know. If District Six has medicine, they can afford to get a tooth replaced.
The party was at the mayor's mansion. Like the other districts, various foods and "classic" meals for the citizens are laid on the table. As if I need some more "passing the plate." While I can appreciate some good fuckin food I am so tired of eating extravagant meals. I don't want to use a knife and fork and tuck the napkin into my shirt, god damn it. I just spent over a week playing dress up in an arena that got burnt to a fucking crisp. If my dollhouse got reduced to ashes, why do I have to keep playing their game? I want my buffet style. The type of shit we would do at the BASE or whenever the college held a little potluck at the beginning of school years. I want the communal chatter with people, checking in with neighbors, friends and that shit. We would have the grill going and consistently making food so it doesn't get cold from just sitting there.
This was all too formal for me. And I'm gettin' tired of formalities, man. Because of that, I spent most of my time on my feet. Pacing around, giving a glare to anyone who looked at me too closely. I was filling the air. If anyone seemed like they'd have some good shit on them, I'd strike up a conversation - a "where'd you find that" to try and get some myself. Most of the time it was some form of alcohol. After my night in Four, I'll pass on going too hard. Without a constant flow of liquor down my throat, I'm left to fulfill the air with something other than a booming, slurred voice. My escort, Raul, seemed to have at least some connections here. So I spent some time latched to him. It made it easier to let the happy gay one talk than the grumpy gay one.
Raul was a good guy. Talked too much sometimes, but he's spent a lot of time working with me to cover up the scowl I've managed to suppress. Doesn't mean the corners of my lips itch occasionally, though. Raul likes to tell me about his little gay friends in the Capitol. "You should meet them sometime; they're not as scary as you think!" He likes to tell me as he's resisting another pill popped in his mouth. I don't think they're scary. I assume they're all replicas of Raul, and if there are ten of Raul in a room, I'd understand why Niko chose to die to a bag of dust. I would too.
The purple-haired dude was deep in conversations with Star, one of Six's escorts, when I saw Flynn out of the corner of my eye. I can't expect him to be excited to talk to me. But I've got nothin' better to do than listen to the vocal fries of a gay man from the Capitol. So Flynn sounds... better than that. I raise the glass of water to the boy, taking a few steps away to try and escape a retelling of Raul's story from the bar last week. He has told every damn friend he's seen since the Capitol about it. Shit gets annoying, dude. "Hey man." I hope he's not bitter enough to ignore me. What a bad way to start with the victor cohort in Six if so. He can be mad about Johnny dying all he wants, but I can't say I'm sorry the dude's dead. "You know if there's any better places for food than here? I'm gettin kinda tired of gourmet."
I don't know if Flynn's a gourmet kinda guy or not. But he knows the District better than me, so it gives a few things to check off if I'm bothered to visit again.
Not that they should, they're fucking dead. But it means less to the families that I have to talk to, or the victors that I now join the ranks of.
Victor, holy shit man, that's still something I'm not used to either. They followed the recap of the Games with an interview. They asked how it felt to be one along with many other stupid fuckin' questions meant to fill the thirty-minute time slot they created for the interview. Regardless, it doesn't feel real still. But I guess it never will. It'll just be my life now, and I'll have to get used to it. Absorb the title. I get to belong for once, but I'll have to be known as a victor who won because some dude killed himself. I didn't properly earn it, as Dyno's bitch sister said back in One. But I'm alive, motherfucker, and that's more than his head can say.
Anyway, District Six. Somehow, somewhere, Flynn hoped that his boyfriend would be coming home. And I certainly was not his boyfriend. Maybe he'll get over it - I don't even know if he's mad at me. He should give me some fuckin grace. I killed Mirage and she killed Johnny - so I think it's pretty full circle.
Six was not in the list of stops I'm interested in making. Not many of them are. I just got done with Five. Niko's sister was a tough sight to see. I'd consider saying something to Svet's family once we get to Seven. Maybe about how she had a bite to her that I respected. She was a lot of our brawn. I'd probably stop by Ten for Elm. Otherwise, I don't give a rats ass where I am. They just better not keep the good shit away from me. The District was holding a formal, as most do, and the higher-end cases of the citizens would be there. Wealthier statuses who weren't there for me. They were here to say they got the invite. Probably say something about me to spread gossip - I'm not their victor. What do they have to hold back from? Nothing, as far as I know. If District Six has medicine, they can afford to get a tooth replaced.
The party was at the mayor's mansion. Like the other districts, various foods and "classic" meals for the citizens are laid on the table. As if I need some more "passing the plate." While I can appreciate some good fuckin food I am so tired of eating extravagant meals. I don't want to use a knife and fork and tuck the napkin into my shirt, god damn it. I just spent over a week playing dress up in an arena that got burnt to a fucking crisp. If my dollhouse got reduced to ashes, why do I have to keep playing their game? I want my buffet style. The type of shit we would do at the BASE or whenever the college held a little potluck at the beginning of school years. I want the communal chatter with people, checking in with neighbors, friends and that shit. We would have the grill going and consistently making food so it doesn't get cold from just sitting there.
This was all too formal for me. And I'm gettin' tired of formalities, man. Because of that, I spent most of my time on my feet. Pacing around, giving a glare to anyone who looked at me too closely. I was filling the air. If anyone seemed like they'd have some good shit on them, I'd strike up a conversation - a "where'd you find that" to try and get some myself. Most of the time it was some form of alcohol. After my night in Four, I'll pass on going too hard. Without a constant flow of liquor down my throat, I'm left to fulfill the air with something other than a booming, slurred voice. My escort, Raul, seemed to have at least some connections here. So I spent some time latched to him. It made it easier to let the happy gay one talk than the grumpy gay one.
Raul was a good guy. Talked too much sometimes, but he's spent a lot of time working with me to cover up the scowl I've managed to suppress. Doesn't mean the corners of my lips itch occasionally, though. Raul likes to tell me about his little gay friends in the Capitol. "You should meet them sometime; they're not as scary as you think!" He likes to tell me as he's resisting another pill popped in his mouth. I don't think they're scary. I assume they're all replicas of Raul, and if there are ten of Raul in a room, I'd understand why Niko chose to die to a bag of dust. I would too.
The purple-haired dude was deep in conversations with Star, one of Six's escorts, when I saw Flynn out of the corner of my eye. I can't expect him to be excited to talk to me. But I've got nothin' better to do than listen to the vocal fries of a gay man from the Capitol. So Flynn sounds... better than that. I raise the glass of water to the boy, taking a few steps away to try and escape a retelling of Raul's story from the bar last week. He has told every damn friend he's seen since the Capitol about it. Shit gets annoying, dude. "Hey man." I hope he's not bitter enough to ignore me. What a bad way to start with the victor cohort in Six if so. He can be mad about Johnny dying all he wants, but I can't say I'm sorry the dude's dead. "You know if there's any better places for food than here? I'm gettin kinda tired of gourmet."
I don't know if Flynn's a gourmet kinda guy or not. But he knows the District better than me, so it gives a few things to check off if I'm bothered to visit again.
