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rook
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who needs another thing to be sad about?

Fuel [Open] Jan 21, 2012 17:43:42 GMT -5

Post by rook on Jan 21, 2012 17:43:42 GMT -5

Wednesdae Drummond

_{Slipping between reality and vivid dreams, I find myself struggling to get a grasp of what is real and what isn't. Tugging at my sheets, I manage to pull myself out of subconsciousness and into boring reality. I have no idea what time it is, except that it's early. Birdsong echoes through my window, the sky a midnight purple with shades of orange from where the sun begins it's ascent.

I estimate that it's around five in the morning, maybe six. Probably the latter, it being Winter. I draw up a rough list of things that need doing in the next three hours: Lighting the furnace, visiting the market, starting on today's metalworking. I don't dread it, I look forward to it, yet my body refuses to compute with getting out of my ever-so warm bedding and embrace the cold. Sure, it may only be for a few minutes, seeing as I'll be next to the furnace, but I still don't look forward to the minute of chill.

I force my legs out of the safety that is my bed, slipping on my slacks and letting out a half-yawn. I'm too drowsy to think straight and want to get to the furnace as soon as possible. I pull on a red t-shirt and grab a hoodie of similar color. My bare feet don't bode well against the oaken floor, so I make my way across the room to grab a pair of black boots, which I lace up quickly, almost automatically. It's like second nature to me now. I make sure the knots are perfectly done, before heading out of my room.

Outside is the furnace, which is a large stone alcove which we use to superheat metals. A few embers glow a hypnotic red at the base of the furnace. This is good, not only does it mean instant warmth for me, but in addition it means that the fire will light a lot quicker. I rub my hands over the faint heat, which despite being minuscule, is comforting. I then begin to go about searching for the large sack of coal that is lying around somewhere. I hope to god that no one has stolen it, as coal is hard to come by.

Eventually, I find the burlap sack, which was hiding under the wooden table. It's cold outside, and my fingers quickly become numb. Carrying the sack is painful on my fingertips, but I persevere, to make a big deal out of this would be pointless. I have too many burns on my arms to care anyway.

I grab the shovel from the wall and begin to promptly shovel coal into the furnace. Initially, this just smothers the embers, as apposed to igniting spontaneously, but I've done this so many times I don't care. The fire may look smothered, but it's not. The lack of oxygen will cause the fire to starve. This is when I grab the bellows and puff large waves of oxygen into the furnace. This causes the flames to flicker and dance, catching the coal and erupting into a cave of heat.

I'm not proud, I've done this a thousand times over. So, I carefully place the shovel against the wall and return the bellows to their original position upon the table. I place the burlap sack of black rock under the table and glance around. There is a lot of work to do today. We need to make several hundred plows and rakes for the agricultural districts, as Winter means that extra plowing needs to be done to maintain the state of the soil. Demand is high at this time of year, meaning more work for me and other blacksmiths across Panem.

I've always wanted to Smith weapons, but unfortunately the only people who need weapons are the Capitol, and they have their finest Smith's craft them in the Capitol itself, with the weapons being made from the most expensive metals. Still, I would love to make a sword or something one day. I know this can't happen, as it would be a sign of arming a force, a sign of rebellion or treason.

I decide to skip the market, I have a lot of work to do, plus I can always head down to the market later, when it's less busy. So, I begin on crafting a plow. Well, it's the head of the plow that I craft, woodwork is not our trade. After the head is done, I can send it off to a lumberjack, who will in turn finish the plows and complete the order. It's a 50/50 business, but Smithing requires more skill in my humble opinion, and I would much rather take a larger ratio of the pay. How hard can it be to cut wood?

I grab a black pair of holding tweezers, which allow me to lift several iron ingots and deposit them into the furnace. Once melted, I will be able to mold them into the cast, but for now I must wait. The furnace isn't quite hot enough, so as I sit, I shovel some more coal into the flames, which lick at the roof of the cave.

I stay sitting on the wooden stool, waiting. How I occupy myself I fail to remember, every day is the same boring process of waiting. Yet I keep telling myself that it will be worth it once I'm crafting. I close my arms and keep warm for a while. I allow my mind to replay this years Reaping in my head. It wasn't nerve-racking for me, as much as exciting. I'm not afraid to be picked, it's just that I'd rather not be dead.

I yawn, still tired, regretting not going to the market. I would have been able to buy some hot food to liven me up. Instead I'm finding myself slip away by the furnace.}

[/sub]

Last Edit: Jan 21, 2012 18:02:03 GMT -5 by rook

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

arx
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literally so gay, doing so many crimes

Fuel [Open] Jan 22, 2012 10:14:46 GMT -5

Post by arx on Jan 22, 2012 10:14:46 GMT -5

+++Tucker Oliver Truedhart\\\

It isn't everyday that there is a Reaping. And I certainly missed my chance in this one. No Quell for the one who deserves it most, no fame for the one who worked the hardest. Instead, another boy has the opportunity. But I am sure that he will never get the chance to win ... He doesn't want it as badly as I do. But, my life continues on as usual despite my bitter mood. My legs flex as my feet hit the ground and my shoes flick dusty snow into the air. The flakes hit my skin and I want to shiver at the cold but my father would disapprove. I put on a light performance shirt in a weak moment before I left my house but still my body wants to shake. My ears ... I can't feel them and I think maybe they are gone? I reach up to touch the side of my head and find my ears still there, but surely they are red from the bitter cold. My hands and feet feel like dead weight and I think that I should start wearing more clothing on my runs, no matter how bad my father punishes me for it.

The landscape around me looks deserted and desolate compared to where I usually run my laps. There are really no streets and the grasses and rocks grow and fall as freely as the want to. Where am now seems to be untamed and untouched by humans ... Exactly like an Arena. I stop and look around, testing myself. I stand, turning my head and catching my breath in what seems to be the middle of nowhere ~~which is everywhere around this forsaken District ...~~ Just when I am about to give up looking for a shelter and just continue you running on in failure my eyes catch on smoke. Not the kind that flows from my mouth, but the real kind that comes from wood or coal. I start to jog towards it, not worrying about how loud I was or who had started the fire. I could win any battle for this cave, no matter the opponent.

I peer into the mouth of the cave and find a fire burning there, smoldering and flicking to the very top of the cave. It can't be mistaken that it is a coal burning fire and obviously needs to be tended to; with continuous watch. I step into the cave, having to duck every so slightly and twist to avoid a rock or two. I take a deep breath as I feel its warmth hit me and the smoke enter my lungs. It feels like home in here. I scan the area quickly, knowing someone is here and that they must know that I am here, unless they are completely clueless which I have found that most people in District 9 are ...

I don't speak, but instead pick up a rock off the floor. Right now I am on the defense. I will not attack first no matter how bad I want to. Hunting is just in my blood. I contemplate speaking, but decide against it. If there is an objection to my presence here, then the objector will meet the rock in my fist.

And so I stand in the cave, warming myself, but poised and alert for the onlooker to attack. Or speak.

"I run on the road, long before I dance under the lights."

rook
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who needs another thing to be sad about?

Fuel [Open] Jan 22, 2012 11:19:28 GMT -5

Post by rook on Jan 22, 2012 11:19:28 GMT -5

Wednesdae Drummond

_{I drag myself back into the house, my stomach dictating where I go. I find myself in our kitchen, browsing for something to stop the constant pang of hunger. I have no siblings to share with, so I'm a lot better off than most in District Nine, but the Blacksmith trade isn't exactly bristling with interest. We get by, but I wouldn't say I was well fed.

I find what appears to be a leftover leg of meat. It's already cooked but is stone cold. I know the dangers of re-heating red meat, but when you eat raw meat on a fortnightly basis, you stop caring about stomach bugs. I grab the leg of... Hog? Or Cow? I somehow doubt it's cow, so I assume it's some swine-like creature, maybe a boar. I decide to head to the furnace again.

It's not smart to re-heat food, but like I said, I'm not too bothered. The furnace fire would be way too hot to cook anything. Unless I wanted to eat ash, that is. So, I'll need to start another fire. This annoys me, as it requires effort and uses precious coal. I could start a fire with sticks and twigs, but I can't be bothered to go out in such cold conditions to find wood.

Our house isn't that secluded. It sits on the outskirts of town. The furnace is located a few hundred meters away, in a cave. The cave is where I get most work done, but we do have a makeshift workshop outside our house. I head back to the alcove, being welcomed by the dancing flames. They leap about on the stone walls, much like a ritual.

The half-cooked meat in my right hand, I yawn, heading for the furnace to check how the iron ingots are melting. I hope slowly, for I'm starving and could do with ten minutes to myself without starting on shaping the liquid metal.

Instead, I find a visitor. Male. Teenager. Under-dressed. He's holding a rock in his hand. He doesn't look like a customer. A thief? Is he raiding my workshop? I can't see how, the only valuable thing here is arguably the coal, and he doesn't look that desperate.

I don't think he's noticed me.

I grab a fire poker. It's black in color and has a point on the end. I point the fire poker in the boy's direction, not violently, but more as a show of authority - A warning.

"Can I help you?"

I raise an eyebrow. I can't stand things interrupting my work schedule.}

[/sub]

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

lyss
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Fuel [Open] Jan 22, 2012 12:05:25 GMT -5

Post by lyss on Jan 22, 2012 12:05:25 GMT -5

.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.
Paper bags and plastic hearts
All our belongings in shopping carts
It's goodbye
But we got one more night
.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.

[/color][/center]

It's neither my alarm or any of my siblings that wakes me. It's the sharp, bitter wind blowing into my room from the wide open window. I looked at the window with a puzzled expression, wondering who opened the window and when it was opened. I toss a blanket over my bare shoulders and cross the wooden floors to the glass square, shutting it tight and locking it. I drop the blanket on the ground, warming up instantly, and walk over to my closet.

I wriggle a tight shirt on and tug a pair of blue jeans over my legs. I grab a pair of sneakers and lace them up. By the light streaming in my room, I can judge it's about six. Nobody else is awake most likely, and I know it's a perfect time to head out. I silently make my way down my stairs and out the front door. I sprint towards the gym, ready to climb and swing on the ropes time and time again. My palms sting from the burns of the material rubbing my skin raw and from poking the fire in our living room.

I'm about half-way there when I see smoke flying in the air. I stop dead in my tracks, wondering where it could have come from. I know this is my only time to work out today, but if this smoke is coming from some big fire, I need to see it. I change my position and head off towards the direction of the smoke. I know it could be harmless smoke billowing out of a chimney from some house, but it's coming out in big, black puffs. I try to breath through my nose and not my mouth, wanting to have the smell in my nose rather than the taste in my mouth.

The close I get, the more the stuff gets in my lungs. I lift the collar of my sweat-soaked shirt over my nose and mouth and continue on. I approach a cave, one that's big and black. I stick my head around the mouth, peering at it's occupants. Half-asleep sitting by the fire is a guy about my age in a red sweatshirt. Another guy who looks the same age is standing there, and by the look on his face, he was concerned about the smoke as well. I watch as the male in the red sweatshirt leaves and comes back, finally noticing the other visitor.

"Can I help you?"

The other guy stands there, silent, with a rock in his hand. I slowly make my way into the cave, avoiding falling rocks and the ones on the ground. About a foot from the entrance, I slip on a big patch of rocks, but I force myself back up and continue walking. I try not to sneak up on the other males, but I don't want to be expected. I decide to just calmly walk up there.

"I don't know about him, but that fire you got goin' seemed to get out of hands a few minutes ago. Black smoke all around. Try not to fall asleep when you have a fire like that dude."

When I jerk my thumb in the direction of the flames, I notice the fire poker he's got pointed at the guy next to me.

"Woah, man, chill. I'm sure he was just concerned about the smoke like I was. No need to get crazy now."

I raise my hands up defensively and chuckle. I know he's probably raising it as an act of defense. I drop my hands and shove them in my pocket, looking at the guy. He looks starved, but then again, most people around here do.

Last Edit: Jan 22, 2012 12:31:26 GMT -5 by lyss

rook
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who needs another thing to be sad about?

Fuel [Open] Jan 22, 2012 15:57:19 GMT -5

Post by rook on Jan 22, 2012 15:57:19 GMT -5

Wednesdae Drummond

_{Before the intruder even notices me, a second boy of the same age joins us. What is this, a party? I don't remember sticking a sign on the entrance of the forge stating: "Come in, we'll share some pig leg."

I frown, still brandishing the metal fire poker, alternating between pointing it at the intruder and the newcomer. Neither are looking to buy, they're both my age, who wants to buy rakes and plows at sixteen? I can pretty much guarantee not these guys. Besides, most our customers know that we don't sell in the forge, we sell back home, where the actual smithing happens.

"I don't know about him, but that fire you got goin' seemed to get out of hands a few minutes ago. Black smoke all around. Try not to fall asleep when you have a fire like that dude."

Asleep? I wasn't asleep!! I was tired, sure. Maybe I was careless to leave it unattended for a few minutes, but it's no big deal, the forge is designed to prevent the fire spreading. The worst that could happen would be that I smoked myself to death. No one would have been in danger [Myself excluded].

"Who are you to tell me-" I begin, taking a step forward, the poker brandished. The second guy seems to like taking charge of situations. His body language indicates that he doesn't like the way I'm holding the fire poker. Maybe I need to stop poking it around like a weapon.

"Woah, man, chill. I'm sure he was just concerned about the smoke like I was. No need to get crazy now." He says, raising his hands defensively.

He's right. Maybe I am over-reacting, but this is my forge, I have the right to be protective. Begrudgingly, I lower the poker. I do not disarm myself, the first guy is still holding a rock and staring at me blankly.

"Sorry... Just not used to visitors..." I say in a calmer tone. I'm not looking directly at the second boy, who had told me to chill. Instead I'm staring at the first guy, the armed guy who must have had intentions of attacking me. Why else would he be holding a rock? I don't trust him.

I have some kind of admiration for the other guy for speaking out, and for being worried. If I had fallen asleep, he probably would have saved my life. That, or be beaten to a pulp via. rock to the head, then be rescued. He seems like a genuinely nice guy, but I still have my wits about me, especially with the rock guy here.

"Now... Can I help either of you?" I say, placing the leg of pork on the table next to me. I'm already behind schedule as it is without all of these interruptions. Part of me is worried about leaving the iron in liquid form, I don't want to make it impure, I'd probably get lashings from the old man. Still, I don't want to take it out, at the risk of rock-guy attacking me.}

[/color][/blockquote][/sub]

Last Edit: Jan 22, 2012 15:57:57 GMT -5 by rook

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

lyss
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Fuel [Open] Jan 22, 2012 21:57:04 GMT -5

Post by lyss on Jan 22, 2012 21:57:04 GMT -5

.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.
Let's get drunk and ride around
And make peace with this empty town
We can make it right
.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.

[/color][/center]

The guy with the poker seems to get the message that we aren't going to hurt him and lowers the poker, still keeping it to his side. I notice what he had brought with him from the other room, a leg of pork. The scent of the meat brings a rumble to my stomach. I didn't have much food before I went to sleep, and I didn't have time to grab something on my way out. I frown slightly, thinking of how my mom was probably up by now, fixing a big breakfast for our big family.

"Sorry... Just not used to visitors..."

I nod, signaling it's fine. His tone is softer, but his stare isn't. His eye bore hard into the skull of the other guy, the one who hasn't spoken at all. I'm guessing the rock in his hand could be kind of intimidating, but any wounds from a rock couldn't be the slightest bit severe. I suppose he could take out an eye, but that was highly unlikely. It bothers me now, why this guy has a rock. I know I can't leave until I know his intentions aren't bad.

The guy who appears to live here already could have gotten hurt with the fire, and now the guy with the rock was scaring him a bit. I watch him sit the meat down on a table next to us, and the scent pains my stomach again. I advert my eyes from the stuff, trying to calm my hunger.

"Now... Can I help either of you?"

I shrug. I didn't come here for any other reason. I'm not really sure if I can get anything from this guy. There is the meat, but I don't want to take what's rightfully his from him. I know it will be a while until I get home, and when I do, everybody would have finished breakfast. If I was lucky, I would have cold leftovers waiting for me on the table. If I wasn't, I would have a small bowl of dry cereal waiting for me.

"Do you have anything else to eat?"

I don't know where the question came from. It just popped out of me. I don't want to pester this guy. I should just leave, now. I'd have to take this other guy with me though. It's obvious that the "owner" of this place views him as a threat. I look at my feet, embarrassed by asking a question I can't take back.

I turn a rock over with the sole of my shoe, still staring at the ground. My mother would tell me how she raised me better than to ask a stranger for food when I had some about thirty minutes away. I brush away the thought, not caring of my parents or more family for once. I push out the faces of my siblings, and for once, I only care for myself. I sort of care for this guy in the red now; I care as in I don't want him to get hit over the head with a rock.

rook
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who needs another thing to be sad about?

Fuel [Open] Jan 23, 2012 16:37:00 GMT -5

Post by rook on Jan 23, 2012 16:37:00 GMT -5

Wednesdae Drummond

_{"Do you have anything else to eat?"

What...? Did I hear that correctly? Who does this guy think he is? First he comes into my cave, tells me to calm down, and then asks me if I have any food? What makes him think I would share it in such a poor district? Where does he think we are, the Capitol? Has he got his head in the clouds? I'm enraged, as a lone child I've never had to share, I've never had to share. Yet the selfishness of the other guy makes me glad of this. Do I have anything else to eat? I'm angry. So angry. I-

"Sure..." I carve off a smallish slab of pork from the leg of the pig, using my fire poker, offering to the guy like I'm holding a kebab.

What am I doing? I'm supposed to be angry with him, yet I find myself sharing the meat. I realize why. He theoretically saved my life, he would have saved my life, in an alternate reality where I fell asleep in front of the fire. He ran all this way to check if anyone was hurt or in danger, he deserves something in exchange. That's why I subconsciously handed him the meat.

Was it subconscious? Or did I intend to do it? Am I trying to make a friend out of this guy? I don't know, but I sure don't offer the guy with the rock any meat. He still stands there, staring at me. I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. I guess I should introduce myself, I decide that the guy I've offered the meat too is alright, he has good intentions, and despite my constant selfish attitude, I will allow him to stay for a while if he wants, I could use the company, plus I need someone my age I can relate to. The other guy? I need to get him out of here, but he looks menacing. I don't want to risk a fight.

"I'm Wednesdae... Wednesdae Drummond..." I say to the guy, who is looking guiltily at me. Perhaps it's the act of kindness. He probably thinks he was rude to ask for food. I shrug it off, it's no big deal, I'm pretty well fed and not exactly starving.
"People call me Wes..."

I shoot a lock at the rock-guy. I decide that if he doesn't leave, or at least say something in the next minute, I'll eject him from the forge, by force if necessary. Hopefully it won't come down to that, but at the moment, he's a threat to both me and the food-guy, who's name I don't know. Why do I suddenly care about him? I've never had the urge to impress or be nice to anyone before.

Maybe it's because I need a friend.}

[/sub]

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

lyss
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Fuel [Open] Jan 28, 2012 17:48:01 GMT -5

Post by lyss on Jan 28, 2012 17:48:01 GMT -5

.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.
Throw it away
Forget yesterday
We'll make the great escape
.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.

[/color][/center]

I didn't expect for him to cut off a piece of pork, especially with that poker, nor did I want him to. I expected at most a slice of cheese or a handful of grapes. Despite my assumptions, he tells me sure and hands me the slice of meat. I reluctantly take it, wondering why he gave me his best morsels. Shocked, I mouth a thank you and begin nibbling on it. While trying to figure out why, I also wonder why I didn't wait until I got home to eat. Because at home, your company would be little kids.

He doesn't offer the guy holding the rock any meat, which doesn't surprise me. As my eyes dart back and forth between these two strangers, I began to take bigger bites. The sweet, savory flavor of the pork dances across my taste buds and swims down my throat. My teeth rip through the meat easily, and the piece is about halfway gone.

"I'm Wednesdae... Wednesdae Drummond... People call me Wes..."

I smile and reply, "Catullus Zahur at your service."

I note that Wedn-Wes- is staring intensely at the unnamed stranger. I slowly chew on my slice, savoring the last few bites I have. I wonder why he hasn't left yet. It's obvious Wes doesn't want him here, and I'm not too happy about his position and that rock in his hand. I shrug it off, though, and pop the last piece of my pork into my mouth. When Wes looks away, I ashamedly lick my fingers clean of the sweet flavor.

"Thanks, again."

I look around the place, wondering what time it was. It probably had to be around 6:30 by now. I have to get back in about an hour, for pillows shoved under a blanket only keeps family at bay for a certain amount of time. I haven't even gotten to the gym this morning. I look down at my hands, healing from not having ropes rub them raw for a full week. The weather this past week had been horrible, snow piling up at our doors and windows.

Maybe if Wes has nothing better to do, he could go to the gym with me. It's a good idea, but he doesn't look to be the athletic type. Maybe I can help him with whatever he needs help with, if that's anything.

"Do you have anything else to do?" I pause slightly before adding, "I could help you if you want."

I shrug and wipe my barely wet fingers on my jeans before running them through my hand. My stomach growls even though I'm sure the slice of pork satisfied it. I feel the need to whisper shh even though it won't help. I fixate my eyes on the rock in the stranger's hand, trying to wipe away my hunger by looking at something else. My stomach seems to settle down, so I look back at Wes with a smile on my face.

rook
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who needs another thing to be sad about?

Fuel [Open] Jan 29, 2012 17:03:34 GMT -5

Post by rook on Jan 29, 2012 17:03:34 GMT -5

Wednesdae Drummond

_{The boy introduces himself as Catullus, before gratefully taking the meat and devouring it like he hasn't eaten in months. Pork is rare, it's a luxury for me and I'm from a pretty well-off family... I wonder if Catullus has even had pork before... The hunger in his eyes suggests that the answer to my thoughts is no.

Both of us stare at the third member of our party, who seems as silent as ever. I wonder if he's an Avox...? If he is, I feel like a jerk for being insensitive. But then again, Avoxes are usually criminals, people who go against the Capitol... Yet, does this make them bad people? Either way, he's holding a rock in an aggressive way. I make my decision.

I place my hand on his shoulder and firmly shove him backwards out the door. Luckily he was standing by the entrance, else I could have been in for a fight. I shut the shoddy wooden door that guards the cave entrance and lock it with a twist of the key. That takes care of him.

I turn back to Catullus and smile back at him. He looks awfully positive, maybe it's because I've been pretty generous with the food - But it is a large leg of pork, and I can't eat it all on my own. So, I walk over to the smaller fire that I made and skewer the meat onto the end of the fire poker, holding it over the flame to heat up.

Cat' asks me if I have anything else to do, or if I need any help.
Crap! Work! I've done nothing in the twenty or so minutes I've been here. I consider the work that needs doing. Those plows need to be made by next Thursday, I suppose if I put in a double shift tomorrow, I can afford to take the day off today. "Nah, it's okay... I haven't got much to do anyway..." I tell him, turning the pork over the flame so the fat bubbles off it.

I realize that today is the Bloodbath. I wonder if our tributes have survived, or if they were lucky enough to have been put out of their misery before they even began to suffer. I hope so, that would be my ideal scenario, had I been in there. I forget their names. Lightning was the girl, I remember that. She looked, well, electric at the reaping. The guy is what I struggle to remember. All I can recall is that it wasn't me, and for that I was more than happy.

I slice off some more meat and hand it to Cat'.
"Here's to another Hunger Games..." I say, "...God help them..." I mutter aloud, chewing on a slab of pork. It's tasteless to me, I'm busy thinking about our tributes, I can't even imagine what they're going through. I have no news on what the Arena's like, which makes me anxious. I hate watching the games, but I've always made myself keep up to date with them, it's a sign of respect for the tributes... For the twenty-three that will die.

"...So, we can stay here and eat, or we can do something pro-creative..." I tell him, my body restless. I have an urge to Smith something magnificent, like a statue or an emblem. Detail has always been a passion of mine. I doubt that this would interest Cat' though, he'll probably just want to eat. I don't complain, I'm hungry as always.}

[/sub]

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

lyss
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Fuel [Open] Feb 4, 2012 1:43:06 GMT -5

Post by lyss on Feb 4, 2012 1:43:06 GMT -5

.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.
We won't hear a word they say
They don't know us anyway
.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.

[/color][/center]

Finally, Wes shoves the third party out of the place, locking the door behind him. I chuckle lightly as he makes his way back over to the fire. He seems like he actually does have work, for his pupils seem to widened for a minute as if he just realized he had some work. Whatever had troubled him was pushed away, though, with his response of, ""Nah, it's okay... I haven't got much to do anyway..."

I nod and shrug at the same time, watching him turn the pork he had left over the flames. He stops once more, as if remembering yet another thing. He paused slightly before adding,"Here's to another Hunger Games... ...God help them..."

I raise an imaginary glass and nod, trying not to laugh during the semi-serious moment. I give in though after a few seconds and let a snort leak out. Out district never does well. Our tributes this year seemed to have some spunk. The male was pretty punk, and the girl had a cool name. My face turns grim after thinking like Wes probably is. How will our tributes turn out this year? Will we finally have a good year? I'm not too sure, considering the arena and the twist.

A shiver shoots down my spine, but Wes changes the subject quickly. "...So, we can stay here and eat, or we can do something pro-creative..." I'm puzzled for a moment. I'm not sure what he means by "pro-creative." Either way, I should probably let him do what he wants. I shrug, but quickly respond. "Whatever you want to do is fine, really."

For a moment I had almost wanted to suggest taking him to the gym with me, but I'm not really up for it anymore. The pork has filled my whole body with warmth and has even made me a little drowsy. I have to stand up for whatever we do, though, or I'll probably try to fall asleep like Wes had. I can't even remember what time it should be, but I'm pretty sure I woke up really early. I squeeze my eyes shut for just a moment, maintaining just a moment of sleep.

I wonder what he has in mind. Whatever it is, I hope it doesn't involve ropes or flames. I tentatively rub my raw, pink fingertips over my cool palms. Instinctively, I began to chew on the insides of my cheeks. I manage to pry my jaw off my cheek, and my teeth reluctantly clamp over one another. I smile, despite my aching hands, and I'm honestly glad that I've made a new guy friend. I've dropped so many, lately.

I feel like I should suggest something for the two of us to do, but I'm sure Wes already has something cooked up. He wouldn't have asked if he didn't, right? Or would he have asked if he didn't know? Either way, I really needed some ice or some bandages for my hands. I had opened some wounds and blisters on my way here and some of them were just now bleeding.

"Oh, uh, yikes. Do you have some bandages, and, uh, maybe some ice?"

I had thought my fingertips had been a darker color than normal because they were raw, but apparently, they had been lightly coated with blood. I groan, wondering what I had cut, or rubbed, them on to make them open again. Just when I thought they were honestly healing, they process starts all over again.

I sigh, knowing I really need to take a long break from cooking meals and climbing ropes. Even though roped climbing is my hobby, and my parents are never home in time to make meals, I know I'm going to have to stop if my hands are ever to get better. Wounds that had only healed last night were now opened once more. It was ridiculous. It's not like my house is stocked with bandages either.

Last Edit: Feb 5, 2012 0:42:34 GMT -5 by lyss

rook
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who needs another thing to be sad about?

Fuel [Open] Feb 9, 2012 17:50:38 GMT -5

Post by rook on Feb 9, 2012 17:50:38 GMT -5

Wednesdae Drummond

_{Catullus didn't seem to comment on my mention of the Hunger Games. It's mandatory to watch, so I know he's been thinking about our District as much as I have. I really want us to win this year, not just because we get lots of rewards in terms of food and supplies, but because I actually like the tributes this year. They seem to have... A certain strength about them.

He's also not bothered to what we do. I planned on doing something active, like working. I could use a hand around the forge, but I doubt Cat' would do it for free, I'd have to pay him in food or what little coin I have. Yet he'd be clumsy and inexperienced... And imperfect. I can't have imperfections in my forge.

When it comes to my work, I'm fussy. Obsessive even. In making metal, I make art. The thought of Cat' trying to help and making things worse just makes my skin crawl, good intentions or not. No, it's out of the question, we definitely won't be doing work. Which is probably the best outcome for the both of us.

I offer Catullus more meat, before taking some for myself. I'm eating a surprising amount for this early in the morning. What time must it be now? Gone six for sure. Call it breakfast then. In District Nine, it doesn't matter when you eat, just that you do. There are no strict mealtimes unless you're pretty well off.

Cat' looks at his hands, which are badly blistered and glow a shocking red color. The flesh is damaged and peeling in places. How did this happen? They look like burns, burns that I have had similar experiences with. Working in a force has it's disadvantages, burns being a major part of that. Many a time have I scorched my arms. It's not a pleasant experience.

Catullus asks for bandages or something to help him. He's out of luck. Whilst the forge does give many burns, we can't afford medicine for such problems, nor any protective bandaging. We simply just douse our hands in cold water for a few hours, grin and bare it. I wish I could do something more to help.

"Sorry... All we have it a few cloths out back..." I point to the makeshift burns station, which is a bucket of water and a ragged white cloth. I'm curious as to how Catullus recieved these burns, but it's probably none of my business. I ask anyway.

"They look worse than they are... It's only minor, I've had worse. Just make sure you're not doing too much work that involves pulling or grasping. May I ask, what were you doing?" I fold my arms, pretending to be an expert on burns, which to an extent, I am.}

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