smoking gun / [krueger & lilybird]
Jun 16, 2023 20:59:46 GMT -5
Post by pogue on Jun 16, 2023 20:59:46 GMT -5
He's come to realize that they are nothing but entertainment to the trainers themselves. There's a feigned sympathy that leaks from their lips, he witnessed it when he pretended not to know how to grasp the handle of an axe. Metal to flesh, a promise made and blood guaranteed, she hadn't even given him the correct information in order to successfully use it.
He swallows back the thought of knowing why, a branded 10 resting on his shoulders. He's seen performances like this before and seen members of the audience watch with the same gaze, like they're looking at fresh meat, innocent lambs to slaughter.
And that's the worst part: they're right.
He sits at a station truly foreign to him now, tech table flashing holographic images of plants both edible and medicinal in front of him. This hadn't been his job back in the troupe, to scavenge and forage the woods past the fences and come back with something bitter and sweet to match the tone. There'd been a different type of poison back then, scarlet and rot and everything in between.
The trainer at this station had left him alone after the first five minutes, a finger pointed towards a medicinal bundle of plants that had flashed across the screen. Now he watches as the table itself turns read, his fingerprint pressed down to a poisonous bundle that flashes information across the screen.
He spins on his heel and throws out the words to the nearest tribute, . "Trainers ain't much use here, huh? You got plants knowledge you can spread?"
