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.//They've [got] the .VIEW.//. <Nash> Sept 12, 2010 14:23:37 GMT -5

Post by Lulu on Sept 12, 2010 14:23:37 GMT -5

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
as life gets longer
awful feels softer
well it feels pretty soft to me
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

After a few days, Topaz was already accustomed to her training schedule. It began to feel just as normal as a day at home. She'd be abruptly awoken by Carmel at eight in the morning. She'd fume about the wake up call for a few minutes while lying in bed, but she'd get over it quickly and begin the delicate process of getting ready. Yes, she knew full well she was heading towards an Arena in which she'd look like shit in a matter of hours (minutes, even, with that Bloodbath) but she still insisted on looking perfect. Next, she'd skip breakfast, then lounge around until it was time to go down to the gym.

Once there, she'd go to whatever station she planned on practicing at first that day. Sometimes her newly-formed alliance would join her, sometimes not. They trained well together, whenever they did. All in all she'd founded a fairly decent group; the District Twelve boy Anani was a fighter and he'd definitely be a crowd favorite. They'd rake in sponsors with him on their side, at least until the Gamemakers decided he was lasting too long and they blasted him to bits, because how could another District Twelve tribute win? Then there was the smart girl, Takeba? It was clear that, while she talked like she swallowed a dictionary, her intelligence was going to be a huge asset in the Arena. It wasn't often that Career alliances had someone like her to aid them.

And then there was Nash. At first, the seventeen-year-old was unsure of what to think of the girl who had, in all reality, been the first person to ally with her. There was something...different about her, something aside from what you'd normally expect to see in a Career, and one from District Two especially. She wasn't as...vicious looking. In fact, she wasn't vicious looking at all. Tope often found herself staring at her during sessions and lunch, simply trying to figure her out. Topaz had been born with a truly inquisitive soul, and difficult-to-read people like Nash Harvey intrigued her.

Training today...she'd probably start with some knives. Give herself a break for a while, do something easy, since this was a skill she had mastered quite some time ago in her normal training back in One. Couldn't hurt to practice a bit more, though, seeing as a knife or dagger of some sort was easily the most likely weapon to get your hands on in the Arena. Gamemakers often stacked the Cornucopia with knives, because most tributes could use them to some extent, and they made for some interesting, hand-to-hand fights.

Grabbing a stack of six small throwing knives from a crate marked with the Capitol seal, she traveled over to a set of dummies lined up for target practice. Her carefully trained vision focused on the areas that she knew were the most vulnerable on a real human. Throat, eyes, chest. Even stomach, because while it wouldn't kill right away it did the job. Taking each knife in her dominant hand one by one, the Career female concentrated and chucked them one after another to her designated targets. Some of them were off by a little, but all in all it wasn't a bad handful of throws.

She recalled the very first time she'd handled throwing knives. She'd been around ten, and had already been training for a year, but her coaches wanted her to work on her aim with less dangerous things to begin with, like darts and slingshots. She'd been woefully awful at them, then, she'd even missed the target completely at one point and the silver-bladed weapon had gone sailing over to the archery range at least ten feet away. This hadn't discouraged young Topaz, though; by that point she was already far too ambitious to give up on something she'd sucked at. So she'd practiced and practiced until it was unusual for her to miss even one shot.

This was a fond memory for her, although reminiscing probably wasn't a good idea at the moment. She had training to do; she'd be a contender in the world's deadliest Game in a matter of days. Shaking her head in disgust at herself, she went over to the dummy to extract her knives from it.

While doing that, she briefly wondered where the rest of her alliance was. Training, she hoped; they couldn't afford down time. She was briefly annoyed that none of them had come to practice targets with her; it was a valuable skill for any tribute. Didn't they know anything? Her golden gaze traveled around the room. She spotted Takeba training at another station; maybe that was good, actually, because Tope wasn't actually in the mood for another round of babbling, and Takeba never seemed to turn down an opportunity for conversation. Anani was nowhere to be found, although the Career female wasn't too fussed over what their male charge trained at.

No, it was Nash she really wanted to practice with, and Nash who didn't actually seem to be bothered by practicing with her, rather than alone. So where was she?

[/justify]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
&& if it takes shit
to make bliss then i feel
pretty blissfully
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

[/color][/size][/center]

Last Edit: Sept 12, 2010 14:24:34 GMT -5 by Lulu

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.//They've [got] the .VIEW.//. <Nash> Sept 13, 2010 14:43:49 GMT -5

Post by gm bourgeois decadence [aya] on Sept 13, 2010 14:43:49 GMT -5

Shouts from both sides
"Well, we've got the land but they've got the view!"
Well now, here's a clue

Nash Harvey —

A big issue, Nash had realized fairly early on, was that she didn't actually want to put that much effort in to training. She would, of course, work at a few stations, but her full focus was never devoted to preparing for the Hunger Games themselves. She'd just about mastered firemaking at this point, but her brain was never actually making fire on a conscious level. It became a secondary thing; Nash had been more focused on her own thoughts — and not even the Two, most of the time — than she had been on the stations.

She'd stopped with the firemaking station a few days ago, as she had decided that she could probably make a decent fire without her instructor breathing down her neck if she needed to. Nash had moved on to half-heartedly trying to memorize stacks of the more distinct edible plants, but that was something that required more attention than she was willing to give it. Instead, the Career peered up from the table to survey the other tributes, the instructors, hell, even the inanimate objects managed to prove more interesting than the material in front of her. Nash knew it wouldn't stick and she may as well give up; there was no way she could make herself focus, and the similar plants were not going to become any less inconspicuous without more effort. It just wasn't going to happen.

On the other hand, Nash made sure to put a full effort into the training stations she participated in with the rest of her alliance. She wasn't going to slack of during the Games, and she couldn't have them thinking that she might. A mere few days before the bloodbath was no time to be ousted from her alliance, and, in all probability, targeted at that point. They had to know that she would still be useful in the Arena, despite how distracted she might appear to be while working on her own.

Nash couldn't really figure out what the root of her lackluster attitude toward training was; she hadn't given up on the possibility of victory, even though she'd never been too ambitious of a person. It was just — she didn't really want to spend the time memorizing different plants (honestly, they all looked the same) or tying bits of string together. It just wasn't exciting. The survival aspects of the Games were the dullest parts. Whether a fan the competition or not, there was no dispute that the Hunger Games were least exciting when it was down to a few sniveling tributes left hiding in the woods, or wandering around, waiting.

And though Nash disliked actually going to Career training as she had in the younger years before she all but quit entirely, knives had always been her favorite. They were simple, much less elaborate to fight with than their longer counterparts, and had a hundred different uses outside of combat. And they were very easily thrown from a distance, disabling or even killing enemies before they even got a chance to strike. Well, in theory they could; Nash was way out of practice, and was certain that her aim had deteriorated.

She glanced up from the plants she had long since given up trying to memorize the plants and looked over at the knives station. There she saw Topaz, who Nash considered to be the unofficial leader of their alliance, retrieving a handful of knives from a target dummy. The District Two tribute could not help but watch the red-haired girl, who seemed disappointed in the marks. Nash thought they were perfect, or at least damn near. Doubtlessly better than she herself could do. She stood up abruptly, ignoring the plants left on the table as she had been for the past hour. The knowledge of these plants was not going to bestow itself on her at this point, so hopefully Anani or Takeba would have that covered for the alliance.

That's dangerous. Quitting? Maybe you should just take the day off, then. Oh, but you must get what still you can while you've got the downtime! Pfft. Doubt it would stick in her thick head, anyhow.

She felt a twinge of guilt. She'd been letting her team down for most of training, hadn't she? Probably. But plants, at least, was knowledge that could be shared; fighting-skill was a necessity for everyone. That had to be practiced. Nash headed over to join Topaz at knife throwing, two subjects which still held the girl's interest where plants and fire and knots had failed to do so.

In greeting, Nash offered only a slight nod of her head and a shy smile. However social she may or may not have been before getting reaped had absolutely nothing on the reticence that had come over her upon setting foot in the Capitol. Usually she'd initiate conversation without hesitation, but for some reason, she just couldn't here. Her alliance were the only other tributes she'd ever really said anything to at all, and her words to them were few and carefully selected.

Maybe it was the Two's doing; they'd both been more vocal since Nash had realized that she'd only be able to take one of the rings Noam had given her into the Arena, and each voice seemed to be competing to edge the other out when it was finally time for the ring to go. As if there wasn't enough competition in Nash's life as it was.

[/color]

Last Edit: Sept 13, 2010 21:53:59 GMT -5 by gm bourgeois decadence [aya]

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.//They've [got] the .VIEW.//. <Nash> Sept 13, 2010 19:05:18 GMT -5

Post by Lulu on Sept 13, 2010 19:05:18 GMT -5

Twirling one of the knives around in her hands, Topaz finally allowed her mind to travel into the Arena. She'd been so focused on planning fighting techniques and survival strategies, but she'd never actually applied them to the hellish wildlife stadium she'd be dumped into in just a matter of days. Of course, no one would know exactly what the arena looked like until the day of; maybe her stylist would be able to tell from the clothes prepared for the tributes, but even those wouldn't be revealed until minutes before the metal plates rose, taking the tributes to their untimely deaths above. Because of this, she couldn't get a clear image of the place; it was just a haze of green for the time being. She was sure there'd be forest. There had to be forest. She didn't know what she'd do if there was no forest.

So, assuming that there was a forest, Topaz knew it'd be essential to utilize the natural resources found within it. Being from One, she was used to working with her hands, and had trained before on making weapons with minimal resources. Food could be found in the forest, on the off chance that she and the rest of her alliance were unsuccessful in getting their hands on some initially. And, perhaps most important, the forest could provide a handful of ideal hiding places in the event that one was needed. Even though she hailed from a very industrialized district where there were minimal trees if any, Tope was still bright enough to know that they provided a wonderful sanctuary for a tribute on the run.

Of course, the Career strongly hoped that she would not ever need to be on the run; that her alliance would be so dominant that everyone would flee from them. And indeed, that would probably prove true for a while. But even if their team proved to be the most competent alliance the Games had ever seen, what would they do if it came down to the four of them? A fight was unavoidable. There was a very large possibility that Topaz would end up alone...hell, she would definitely end up alone. The team of Career females and Anani were, at the moment, bonded by mutual need. It was often said, especially by the trainers and coaches she'd grown up learning from, that mutual need was the strongest bond that existed. But what happened when that mutual need ran out? When, for the alliance, it was either kill or be killed? When it came to self preservation in the Games, wasn't there anything that was stronger?

Should she be looking for it?

No. Of course not, she thought to herself, scowling. Your job is to train and be the best fucking Career you can be, and nothing more. Now just do that, and don't bury yourself in thoughts that don't concern you. Topaz shook the distracting thoughts out of her head. What she needed to focus on right now was these knives and their designated targets on the dummy full of sand in front of her. As she swung around to go back to the spot she'd been throwing from, she abruptly came face to face with none other than Nash Harvey.

The charming smile that formed across Topaz's features surprised her; what was she smiling about? Why was she so happy to see someone she'd only met just a few days ago, someone she'd probably have to kill sometime in the near future? She rolled her eyes internally at her moment of confusion. Of course, she was only smiling because Nash had come over to train, to sharpen her skills, just as Topaz had been hoping she would do. Tope and Nash were not friends. She wasn't smiling because they were friends, or anything else of the sort. They couldn't be friends. They were allies. And temporary allies, at that.

She quickly transformed her genuine smile into more of a smirk, and nodded back as Nash did the same in greeting. "Hey."

Her hands closed around the hilts of her knives tighter than they had been before, debating on whether or not she should get in another round of throws. She tried to tell herself that this wasn't entirely for Nash's benefit, even though Topaz had always had a habit of showing off. No. She wanted to throw her knives for her own benefit, to better herself for the harsh challenges ahead. It did not concern the girl with the haunting, deep brown eyes who was standing beside her.

They were not friends.

The seventeen-year-old also couldn't help but contemplate whether or not to give Nash a few of the knives to try for herself or keep them like the greedy Career she was. Surely the latter would be a lot more in-character. She didn't like sharing. Besides, Nash could always walk the ten feet over to the knife crate to get her own crate. It wasn't like she was disabled, or anything. Topaz would keep her own knives for herself.

Tope took the one step she always took towards her target, to get her bearings and aim properly. Normally she would have followed through with the throw directly after that, but suddenly, cursing herself for doing so, she swung back around. "Knife?"[/color] With a smirk very like the one she had worn before, the District One tribute unclenched her hand from the pointed silver weapon and held it out to her ally.[/blockquote][/justify]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
life it rents us
&& yeah i hope it put plenty on you
well i hope mine did too
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

[/color][/center][/size]

Last Edit: Sept 13, 2010 21:33:46 GMT -5 by Lulu

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.//They've [got] the .VIEW.//. <Nash> Sept 13, 2010 23:10:28 GMT -5

Post by gm bourgeois decadence [aya] on Sept 13, 2010 23:10:28 GMT -5

For every good deed done there is a crime committed
We are fixed
For every step ahead we could have just been seated
We are fixed

Nash Harvey —

It was impossible for her, Nash found, to not return Topaz's warm smile with a little grin of her own, even if the other girl's quickly dissolved into a more Career-typical smirk. She recognized it as one of the closest things Careers gave to friendliness, to encouragement, hell, to any positive feeling. Did this mean they were actually friends? Despite the dangerous implications of actually liking her allies as people, liking them beyond their skill or their usefulness, Nash found herself actually warming up to the prospect.

Of course, if she'd learned anything by watching the Hunger Games, Nash knew that growing any semblance of attachment for any other tribute was deadly for everyone involved. Three scenes from the past two Hunger Games flashed through her mind in rapid succession: the cold, unapologetic look on the blind kid's face as he turned on the other boy in his alliance; the guy who'd attacked Anani's little sister shouted at by last year's District 1 girl as she drove her falchion through his eye to accentuating the message; finally, the younger Petros trying to — do what, drown herself? after she'd won.

Nash didn't know what points she could draw from the three separate scenes. They each led to three separate conclusions. Allies were best kept at a distance, disposable. Deeper connections provide a more powerful impetus for tribute action, provide for more strength and skill. Deeper connections hurt too much to sever. Allies good, friends bad. Allies good, friends better. Death bad. For once, it wasn't the Two in her head that caused Nash's confusion and conflict.

Still, she beamed as she accepted the knife. "Yeah, thanks." As soon as it was in her hand, however, Nash realized she didn't want to throw it; she couldn't. She wasn't even close to the best when at her peak performance, and her marksmanship could only have deteriorated under the influence of time and stress. And with the added pressure of wanting to — needing to not mess up in front of Topaz, knowing that she couldn't let her ally lose any confidence in her before the Games even started; the whole team would need to depend on each other's abilities — for the bloodbath, at the very least.

She diverted her eyes from the other tribute, realizing that she'd been staring. The briefest of glances was spared to the target, which alternated between looking reasonably close and approaching infinite. She couldn't throw this knife. Nash had a bad feeling that she'd have to stall.

Oh, just give it a go. What's the worst that could happen? Well, you could miss the target completely, for one. Hell, maybe you could even hit another tribute by 'mistake!' You know full well that's completely illegal. So what? They're not going to try and replace a tribute at this stage. But they'd make the Arena into hell in any way they could! Don't cheat here, that's wrong. Naah, come on, it would be so easy. The grip isn't that good, I bet you could pull off a 'slip.' That would be an unfair disadvantage to them! Hey, life's not fair. Look, I bet you could put this girl here out of commission, no problem.

"No," Nash muttered hurriedly, a brief moment of cold panic sweeping over her. She knew she had next to no control over whatever the Two said, but having the words, having the mere idea in her brain made her heart palpitate with fear. What if she actually had? She could expect to be out of an alliance, for sure, and wouldn't stand a chance in the Arena against both tribute and gamemaker retaliations alike. And it wasn't just the potential repercussions that made her feel contemptible, she realized.

The tribute stepped up to the line so she could get rid of that knife before she did anything with it that she really, really didn't want to. She didn't trust herself with it, not here, not in the training center. Not while she had one half of the Two egging her on in a manner that was more convincing than she should have let it be. It was no good when she couldn't depend on her own thoughts not to steer her astray — or, hell, even upstream like they were doing, forget off-course or any variation that implied that they led her in the right direction even a little bit.

For as shaken up and out of practice as Nash was, the knife — well it wasn't on target, but it wasn't bad. She could pretend she had been aiming for the stomach and not the head; after all, that was a reasonable and justifiable target area. Maybe it wouldn't kill right away, but would do enough damage that the tribute would be easy enough to finish off up close, or with another knife or two. And if they fled, they wouldn't get very far very fast, bleeding profusely. Two day life span for stomach injuries, at most. Infection inevitably set in, and injuries to the abdominal region were typically pretty debilitating.

The instant's worth of thoughts had Nash distracted for all of a second, but she was brought back by a particularly nasty remark from one of the Two.

Your hands are shaking. Going to let the Games rough you up like that already? They haven't even started. You're screwed.

She quickly shoved the appendages — it had only been trembling slightly, with some luck not even noticeably — into her pockets. Maybe it was a bad idea to try and excuse her overtly flustered demeanor, but for some reason Nash felt the need to explain herself. Or, at the very least, try to reassure Topaz — or maybe, herself — that it wouldn't be like this in the Arena. Because it wouldn't. Yes, Nash had her ups and downs, in large part due to the Two, but she'd be okay then. Better than okay. Wouldn't she?

"Huh," she noted, successfully keeping the minor note of panic out of her voice. "Been a long while since I've thrown… "

ooc- eff. what are you doing, Nash, I don't even know. Think the post went downhill after eleven thirty... sorry.

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.//They've [got] the .VIEW.//. <Nash> Sept 14, 2010 18:10:05 GMT -5

Post by Lulu on Sept 14, 2010 18:10:05 GMT -5

Nash seemed to have caught the smile that Topaz had tried quickly to conceal, for she smiled as well. It was only a small grin, but Tope's eyes widened ever-so-slightly as it formed across the other girl's features; it seemed like it hardly ever appeared on that face, but it seemed to fit. It seemed to make the conflicted expression diminish some, leaving a much more comfortable look in its wake. It brightened her up, when Topaz was sure Nash could use a little brightness. She looked better. Pretty.

Wait, pretty? Why was she thinking that, while she was probably going to have to kill this girl in a number of days? Her thoughts were confusing the hell out of her. Compliments, regardless of whether they were thought or spoken, were not Topaz Ross's alley. She was much too self-centered for that sort of thing.

The grin widened into a true smile as the knife was held out; once again, the seventeen-year-old was swearing internally at herself for doing so in the first place. Not for the same reasons as before, though. This time it was because she didn't want that smile to remain on the District Two girl's face. An exceedingly stubborn part of her wanted it to disappear, to be erased, so it would stop befuddling her so. Why was it there in the first place; did Nash consider them to be more than just expendable allies? And most of all, why was a less influential corner of Topaz's mind wanting it to remain? Why did she want to see Nash Harvey looking pleased and pretty? Why did she give a crap what that girl was feeling?

"Yeah, thanks." The words rang out in Tope's ears, reminding her once again of her confusion. But then, suddenly, Nash spoke again. "No." No, what? No, she didn't want the knife? She didn't want to throw it, not even for the extra practice it would provide her with? Surely Nash couldn't be so arrogant as to assume that she had perfect aim already and didn't need to even throw that one weapon? Even Topaz herself wasn't that bad. If that was the case...well, then, the District One tribute would be sure to crush those expectations immediately...

She was about to retort angrily, perhaps insisting that Nash had to throw that knife, but something stopped her. She didn't want to upset Nash. She didn't want to jeopardize her chances of ever seeing that smile again, however much it bothered her that she felt that way. She attempted to assure herself that it was only because they were allies; why upset your ally, when you needed to move as one team throughout your time together in the Arena? It would be counterproductive. Yes, counterproductive. That was why Tope hesitated to snap at the brown-eyed girl. There was no additional reason. Right?

It turned out, though, that she had no reason to speak anyway; Nash did indeed throw the knife, though it took a little longer than expected. It lodged itself in the abdomen of the practice dummy; perhaps if Topaz had been paying closer attention she probably would have been able to fathom a guess as to where the girl had been aiming, but unfortunately she hadn't been. She'd been too busy arguing with herself inside her head to watch Nash's chocolate eyes zone in on her designated target, so the throw had come as a surprise to her. Assuming she'd been aiming for where she had hit, the stomach area, it wasn't a bad throw; Tope couldn't see why the other girl was covering up for it with an excuse that she hadn't practiced in a while. Nevertheless, though, the highly trained Career was able to spot a few flaws in her technique. Being the semi-perfectionist she was, Topaz could not avoid pointing them out. In fact, she did it without thinking.

"When you throw, take a step with your non-dominant foot first, to brace yourself. And stand slightly sideways, too. Feet square on the ground." Her voice slightly softer than it normally would have been talking to someone else, the tribute demonstrated the proper stance for knife-throwing. And also, you don't have to clench it so tightly. Hold it more like this--"
Reflexively Topaz reached out to place a new knife in Nash's grasp and position it properly in her pale hands, as she would have done when helping younger Career students back home. She didn't realize what she was doing until her own sensitive skin brushed Nash's, triggering a staggering shock of electricity to zip through her body. She retracted her hand quickly, but the tingling feeling that was the aftermath of the jolt remained. Turning her head away, Topaz closed her eyes for a moment and took a slow, deep breath, forcing the feeling to go away. They were not friends. Or anything like it.

[/justify]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
your gun went off
well you shot off your mouth && look where it got you
my mouth runs on too
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

[/color]

ooc- took a few leaps with this post, since we have limited time left. D:[/size][/center]

Last Edit: Sept 14, 2010 18:11:07 GMT -5 by Lulu

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.//They've [got] the .VIEW.//. <Nash> Sept 15, 2010 14:36:27 GMT -5

Post by gm bourgeois decadence [aya] on Sept 15, 2010 14:36:27 GMT -5

We are fixed
We are fixed
We are fixed
Right where we stand

Nash Harvey —

To her infinite relief, Nash's momentary bout of partial insanity seemed to have gone largely unnoticed by the other girl. If anything, it seemed that Topaz was nearly as distracted as Nash herself (though, hopefully for different reasons; it would be bad if there was more than one tribute in their alliance had an internal voice advocating for an 'accidental' maiming of the others.)

It was nice to realize that any lack of skill — although she appeared to have retained at least some of the ability acquired in her earlier days of Career training — would not result in Nash's immediate ejection from the alliance. Topaz didn't seem to be too disappointed or too annoyed with Nash's mediocre throw. If anything, the other tribute seemed eager to give a few gentle pointers.

It took Nash a moment after Topaz began speaking to remember that her words — the bare fundamentals of knife-throwing — had been drilled into her head practice after practice between the ages of seven and thirteen. It was somehow different when it came from the red-haired girl. Easier to listen to. The last vestiges of the will to resist training Nash had as a child were completely melted away.

Nash removed her hands from their pockets — they were no longer shaking — as the District One tribute offered another knife to correct Nash's grip. For a millisecond, she wanted to protest that she'd only had the knife in a chokehold for fear of what she might do without meaning to if she'd had the chance to 'let it slip.' But — why? Why do that? The other girl didn't need to know about that, and it wasn't as though it were Nash's fault.

She couldn't prevent the Two from saying what they would, just as she couldn't prevent any other involuntary spasm — the shudder in her stomach when her brown eyes met the other girl's, the way her hairs stood on end as Topaz's hand brushed her own. The numbness left on her palm where the foreign digits had briefly been for an instant, but were quickly drawn back.

Don't. Do.

This was an intensified version of a somewhat familiar experience — though all the old names had been erased, left meaningless. They'd never carried much weight, anyhow. This time, the stakes were higher, and the timeline was inevitably much shorter. And, for once, Nash suspected — or maybe just hoped — the feeling was mutual. What else would prompt the other girl's quick recoil? Nothing she could think of.

Maybe it was stupid to even try, though.

Yes. Not at all.

Because what other chance would there be? The stark reality of the matter was that one — if not both — of the girls would be dead within two, maybe three weeks. Tops. If there were a time to be impulsive, wasn't it now? Life was over. It was nice of the Capitol to give the tributes a few last chances to get what they wanted out of life.

She tried to lock eyes with the other girl. Quietly, calmly, but in no way unconfident, Nash spoke. "Okay." The knife in her hand, at this point, was completely forgotten to her. But if it were easier to be talking about training, she'd be okay with that, too. Nash had never been able to ask for the things — the people — she wanted when there was anything to lose — hell, even when there was nothing to lose.

There was no reason to try and force it. Topaz was her currently her ally, and, in all probability, would eventually have to become her enemy. Anything that tampered with this formula would be beyond dangerous, and was it really worth the risk? At this point, Nash had stopped kidding herself that she could win, but she had the others to look out for. If it wasn't she who would be this year's victor, she'd like it to be Takeba, or Anani. Or Topaz.

She bit her lip in indecision, and, for once, it wasn't caused by the Two — in fact, they'd been oddly mum. Somehow, that was more frustrating of them. Nash never asked for their input, but when she could finally goddamn use it, they weren't around. Maybe they'd be louder in the Arena — or, one of them, anyhow. Nash worked out awhile ago that she'd only be able to bring one of Noam's rings with her, and was unsure how that would affect their dynamic. She'd never worn less than both of them since they'd been left to her.

Nash wondered what her friend would have to say about her situation. Probably nothing; relationships between people was nothing they'd ever discussed, whether they were supposed to be killing each other or working together or friends or — or what? Nash refused to put a word to it. Because it wasn't a word; it was a thrill, a shudder in her chest. There was no definition to it, and Nash refused to give the feeling one. Somehow, it felt as though putting syllables with it would cheapen it, dilute it as it truly was.

Last Edit: Sept 15, 2010 14:44:50 GMT -5 by gm bourgeois decadence [aya]

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.//They've [got] the .VIEW.//. <Nash> Sept 15, 2010 16:18:43 GMT -5

Post by Lulu on Sept 15, 2010 16:18:43 GMT -5

It was almost as if there was an ominous clock ticking, one that only she could hear. It was ingrained in her mind, the constant ticking. Every second that passed meant they were another moment closer to the Arena. This prospect both excited Topaz and scared her to death. She was much less inclined to let the fear show, though, so ever since she'd volunteered she'd forced herself to appear as if she wanted nothing more to be in that death trap as soon as possible. She had a thing about looking scared, though; it didn't get you anywhere. Never let the fright show.

Now, however, as the tingling feeling that had taken over as soon as her hand had brushed Nash's wore off, the tribute felt as if the Arena was looming up in front of her faster than it ever had. In addition to this, she also felt as if the fear was threatening to make an appearance, though it had never even come close before. The thought of the unknown stadium in which she would most likely die did not intrigue her as much as it had a little while ago. She was not ecstatic at the idea of running a sword through something real, finally; rather it made her shake with unease. This was incredibly out of the ordinary. For the first time she wished she hadn't offered to take Sapphire's place on that warm summer day last week. Maybe, and she didn't know where the hell this feeling came from, it was because she finally felt like she had something to lose.

When Topaz finally turned back to face her ally once more, her heart skipped a beat in her chest as she realized Nash was attempting to catch her eye. She returned the gaze for a single moment before quickly looking away, her golden eyes searching for something, anything else to look at so they wouldn't have to peer into the depths of those tantalizingly haunting brown ones. She would rather avoid them at the moment, seeing as they--and their owner--seemed to prompt unwanted reactions within her.

"Right, yeah..."
She didn't seem able to formulate a more elaborate sentence in response to Nash's brief statement of agreement, although admittedly the other girl's brief "Okay" hadn't been much, either. The only difference was the confidence behind their words; shockingly, Topaz did not sound very self-assured as she spoke, but Nash certainly did. It seemed a change from how the District Two girl normally spoke, or at least from what Tope had heard of her speech; she was normally more soft-spoken. But in that one word there seemed to be concealed a secret of some sort. Though it was still quiet, it seemed to mean something more than it sounded like.

But the red-haired teen was beyond trying to decode secret messages concealed in the words of others. She'd been doing that unofficially since the Games had started, and then when her mentor had informed her that it was a useful thing to know how to do just before training she'd fully been aware of herself attempting it. The President sent a warm and welcoming greeting in the direction of the tributes? I hope you enjoy dying for our entertainment. He broadcasted some spiel about the success of the Games? See what you've done, rebels? Your children will continue to suffer because of your defiance for years to come. Another tribute complimented Topaz on her costume and presence at the Opening Ceremonies? Little show off. I'd like nothing more than to slit your throat. It seemed like nothing was straightforward anymore, and she was sick of it. Why should she bother to continue deciphering meanings when it really didn't matter a damn bit, anyway?

A bit more relaxed now that she'd come to the conclusion that she didn't need to scrutinize everything Nash Harvey said, Topaz opened her mouth to speak again, hoping she didn't sound half as disoriented as she really was. "You going to try again, then?"

[/color] If she wasn't becoming delusional, in her opinion these words really did sound a lot better than they had before. More like normal, really. The majority of her hoped Nash would try again, and it was just because she was eager for a chance to give more pointers. In reality this should have been entirely the reasoning behind it; she was her ally, it would make sense for her to want the other girl to try again to sharpen her skills so she'd be a bigger threat to their enemies. But really the main reason she wanted Nash to distract herself by throwing that knife once more was because Tope was afraid that if they didn't practice, they'd get to talking. Talking would cause her to warm up to Nash, and would make that feeling she'd gotten from their brief touch resurface. And warming up to someone--anyone, really, but the tribute in front of her especially--meant a greater chance that she would reveal things she kept safeguarded inside her mind, things that were protected with lock and key. [/blockquote][/justify]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
if life's not beautiful without the pain
then i'd just rather never even see
beauty again
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

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ooc- o.O Ahhh blahpost >.< Tope didn't feel like talking today...[/size]

Last Edit: Sept 18, 2010 15:56:56 GMT -5 by Lulu

{lulu's cast}