-Radiant{open

arx
Retired Staff

2,424 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Apr 18, 2024 20:03:20 GMT -5

literally so gay, doing so many crimes

-Radiant{open Jan 21, 2012 14:15:14 GMT -5

Post by arx on Jan 21, 2012 14:15:14 GMT -5

.:-Blythe Iden Godwin-Seavers-:.

.:-Just walk away like you never cared-:.
.:-Don’t even look at him if you’re still scared-:.
.:-And you don’t even have to give him a reason why-:.
.:-But all the things that you never said-:.
.:-They’re gonna stay with you until you’re dead-:.
.:-So take advantage of the way he made you feel-:.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Water runs over me piercing my skin with its heat. It is reaching down into me, threatening to make my skin evaporate right off my body. The air around me is foggy and suffocating me with its warmth. Its embrace is threatening to fill me to the top and then burst when there is nothing left to fill. I open my eyes and blink droplets out of my eyelashes as more water attempts to enter my eyes. I open my mouth to breath and cause water to disperse from my lips. The water and spit collide with the far shower wall and make a nearly silent tinkle as they hit. The droplets slide down creating their own little paths to the very bottom where each mixes with the river of water and soap that flows off my body. The drops continue past my feet, down the drain to some dark and unknown world. I turn the knob and the water ceases to pour from the shower head. I step from the shower and I am immediately blasted with air dryers that kick on beneath my feet. The cool blast of air cools my body and flicks the water from my hair as it dances with the air. I grab a towel and step off the air platform and onto the cold tile of the bathroom.

I wrap myself up as goosebumps pop up on my body. I cross over to the mirror where it has fogged over from the heat of the water. I think about wiping the condensation away but know there is no point. I know what lies beneath. I walk away from the unreflected mirror and exit into my bedroom. My feet meet the soft, fuzzy, clean, white carpet. The tufts reach up in between my toes and tickle them endlessly. It seems as I walk across the floor that the white spools of tangled carpet may swallow my feet whole and I wish they would. Maybe then I could imagine it as snow, and if it is snow then I can imagine myself somewhere that isn't here. I sit on the edge of my bed and notice the clothes that I had left from yesterday there. I pick them up and find them much less comforting than the soft carpet and find that they smell as if a family of mice crawled in them and died. But still I slide them on, not caring about how I look. I can picture myself though, hair tousled and curly, eyes bloodshot, clothes baggy, crinkled, and dirty. But there is no point in trying to fix any of it. I can't change any of those things, they always return.

So I sit in wait, contemplating on what to do, what everyone wants me to do, what I am supposed to do, what I am expected to do, and what they will tell me to do. Perhaps I will have to sit through some design session with Desual or have to listen to Plato chatter on and on about how the food isn't as exquisite as he is used to or how his hair isn't the right color or some other outrageous thing. Maybe I will be pushed to the Training Center where the day will drag out and tributes will come and go and still there will be almost no interaction. Maybe some adult would tell me to stop moping and be grateful for the opportunity. The opportunity for what? Food? A shower? Friendships? Training? To kill? To die?

I blindly reach out to my nightstand beside my bed as I know that there there is an array of extensive bottles. I find myself wishing that the bottles were filled with hard liquor or beer or some strong spirits. Hell, they could even be filled with some sort of dainty alcoholic drink for all I cared. But instead they are only colognes and fragrances in bottles. I feel around the stand, my hands reaching the colorful liquids and handcrafted glass. Suddenly something falls from the stand, landing safely on the carpet, not shattering when it hits but opening and spilling over into the rug. I bend over and quickly pick up the small bottle but already three-quarters or the bottle have spilled over into the carpet. I place the bottle back on the stand and find that the smell of this liquid is certainly not what I expected. Instead of a masculine smell, it is feminine. I look over to the bottle and the label reads 'Jasmine - Pure Elegance' I take a deep breath through my nose and find that the scent is familiar. It smells like her.

I stand up angrily knowing that she isn't here and she never will be, no matter how bad I want her to. I look over the bottles and pick one that is black and must be more masculine than the fragrance in the carpet. I spray it on the outside and inside of my clothing glad to smell something a bit less flowery. I sit back down in the edge of the bed and reach under the pillow. I pull out the necklace and kiss it before shoving it into my pocket. I turn my head as I hear soft taps on the door. I throw the hood of my sweatshirt over my head as I walk to the door and give a sigh as I hear Plato's voice from behind the door. After a few extra seconds, I let my fingers clasp over the brass knob and twist. I only let the door open a tiny bit to see if I can avoid letting Plato in or having to leave the room with him. All I hear is his endless chatter about breakfast being ready and shut the door in his face. Sadly he follows me into my room, asking what is wrong, asking about the smell, and blah, blah, blah.

I grind my teeth together and ball my fists as I slip them into my sweatshirt pocket. I wish I could feel the carpet through my socks so that I could stand in a pile of snow somewhere back in District 5, no, on a cloud. I wish I were on a cloud. My thoughts are shattered by reality when Plato rips the hoodie off my head and insists I listen to him. My fist leaves my pocket before I can think and collides with his cheek. He turns and looks at me in horror as he brings his hand to his face. One of the Avoxes outside must've seen it because suddenly there are tons of Peacekeepers swarming into the room and grabbing hold of me. I think I might be punished, but instead I am pushed into the elevator at the end of the hall and thrown into the training canter. As soon as I figure out that I am not being punished for my thrown fist and yank myself free from their grasps. They let me go and turn back into the elevator and leave.

I readjust my sweatshirt on my shoulders and whip the hood back on top of my head before I walk to a station. I try to pick one away from the other tributes, but it seems that no matter which way I go someone is there. So I just sit somewhere, not knowing what station I am at and certainly not caring. Whatever I am supposed to get done today is not happening. I won't do it. So I sit on a bench, looking at the floor, thinking about what is happening to me, wiping the smeared blood from my knuckles.

Emily ... Save me."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

.:-It’s only a matter of time-:.
.:-You’re gonna find your peace of mind-:.
.:-And maybe settle down in a one bedroom apartment-:.
.:-And all the evil things he might say-:.
.:-Will come back to him one day-:.
.:-When he least expects it-:.
.:-And then maybe you’ll be a million miles away-:.

Last Edit: Jan 22, 2012 14:30:53 GMT -5 by arx

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

SNOWFLAKES [Brik]
Tribute

[M:-1155]

487 POSTS
last seen Apr 27, 2013 14:22:20 GMT -5

-Radiant{open Jan 22, 2012 14:24:55 GMT -5

Post by SNOWFLAKES [Brik] on Jan 22, 2012 14:24:55 GMT -5

"As soon as the blood appears our world stops for the moment."

[/color][/center]

Don’t touch me.

That was the thought and spoken words she had lived by. Three simple words that told another person to back the hell off. But as she lay, a mess in the satin sheets of her bed, Kent, her stylist, sitting on the side, saying the words, she wished that she wouldn’t have to repeat them over and over. Why can’t I just believe for once in my life that someone loves me so much that I wouldn’t have to flinch away from their touch? This was a wish she would think about every so often, but the painful reality that nobody could ever love her was enough for her to stop chasing a shooting star. “Kent, no, leave me alone.” Kent could only knit his eyebrows together, with his lips tucked in. Every so often, he would try to put a hand on her shoulder – only to comfort her, may I add – but she would flinch away; it was like he was pressing a heavy hand upon a wounded shoulder. “I don’t think I want to talk about it. It was just a dream.”

This is what I brought you; this you can keep
This is what I brought; you may forget me
I promise to depart, just promise one thing
Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep

[/center]

She couldn’t see the pain on his face as he kept trying to comfort her. His eyebrows were pressed together with worry, his kaleidoscopic eyes soft and trying. “Do you honestly believe that keeping everything bottled up inside you will make it go away? All of your dark dreams gotta mean something, and they won’t go away until you talk about them.” Lightning turned over in bed, hoisting herself up. Her green eyes were rimmed with liquid, threatening to spill over. “What happened?” Lightning put her face in her hands, her voice hardly a whisper. “I had a dream that I tried… and I succeeded.” Kent, even though he tried to understand, had no clue what she was talking about. He couldn’t think of anything that could possibly match up to what she meant. “In my dream I tried to kill myself. And I did it. And that’s when I woke up screaming.” Kent looked out of the window that was still darkened by night, unsure what to do. He didn’t have anything to say. What could he say to that? Oh, it was just a dream? All he could do is place a hand on her shoulder and watch as she flinched away. But after that failed attempt, he reached his arms around her, glad that she didn’t deny him.

This is what I brought you; this you can keep
This is what I brought; you may forget me
I promised you my heart, just promise to sing
Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep
Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep

[/center]

Sitting on the edge on the bed, light filtering through the windows, only there to seemingly cheery Lightning up, she stared directly ahead, across the bathroom to the other wall. Flashes of what happened earlier that very morning (around 3:00 am) crossed her vision, and entwined in the memories were of what happened in the dream. She could see bits and pieces; a smiling, curved razor, her parents as they stood, uncaring, in the doorway… it was only a dream, but to think that it could have happened in real life is the thing that scared her most. At least I won’t have to do this to myself. Someone else can do this for me. A sad smile crossed her face, and suddenly, she heard her door click open and Tanisha storm in.

“Good heavens Lightning! Kurt told me about what happened this morning! I was so worried about you!” Lightning rolled her eyes and pulled her right ankle to her left knee. “So you came… an hour and a half after the estimated time he told you. Get the hell out, I already showered, I don’t need a babysitter to show me where the training room is.” Tanisha, like the little drama queen she was, stormed out of the room. I swear on my life, I can manipulate that woman like a piece of potting clay. Rolling her eyes yet again, she walked over to the door where her training boots sat, awaiting another journey and slipped them on wordlessly.

With just a look they shook
And heavens bowed before him.
Simply a look can break your heart.
The stars that pierce the sky;
He left them all behind.
We’re left to wonder why
He left us all behind.

[/center]

Walking down the soundless hall, her blue eyes scanned the carpet that she stepped upon, not wanting to pay attention to anything around her. She saw people out of the corner of her vision, walking past her, around her, or by her, but she paid no attention to such distractions. I don’t want to look up and meet the eyes of my possible killer, although it would be nice who had done me the service. And again, the visions of her dream flashed before her eyes, making her head jolt up, trying to make the images depart her eyesight. As soon as she looked up, she realized that she was in front of the doors of the training center, and with careful, stealthy steps, she walked up to the door, and she closed her hand around the door handle.

Ripping the door open with unneeded force, she walked in, her eyes gazing upon the tributes who were training. She didn’t know what she wanted to work on from the beginning, but the stealth station seemed intriguing to her; the tributes learned how to hide and then sneak attack their dummy pray. Her face shadowed over. This would be interesting to see how it works in the arena. Her laidback expression turned to that of anticipated malice, and as she journeyed over to the station, climbing up the five little stairs onto the training platform, she saw a guy sitting on a bench, thick life blood covering his knuckles. Something about him intrigued her; maybe it was the way he held his head, like he was determined to just go back into the flow. His masked emotions made one thing certain for her. He is a broken thing. And so am I.

What's the hook, the twist
Within this verbose mystery?
I would gladly bet my life upon it.
That the ghost you love, your ray of light
Will fizzle out without hope.

“I don’t believe it’s good for you to injure yourself right before the Games are going to begin. You’re gonna need blood to live.” Jumping down from the third step, she gracefully sat in the empty space on the bench next to him, her right ankle touching her knee, her hands in her lap. I don’t see any open wound, though. Maybe that blood is from someone else. The thought made her wonder if he punched hard enough to draw blood, and if so, that she would have to maintain caution around him. [/blockquote] [/justify] [/size]

Ally: obviously the B, R, I, K, N, O, P, and E, are silent, and it's pronounced "Fabulicious."

arx
Retired Staff

2,424 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Apr 18, 2024 20:03:20 GMT -5

literally so gay, doing so many crimes

-Radiant{open Jan 22, 2012 16:05:00 GMT -5

Post by arx on Jan 22, 2012 16:05:00 GMT -5

.:-Blythe Iden Godwin-Seavers-:.

.:-You may write me down in history-:.
.:-With your bitter, twisted lies-:.
.:-You may trod me in the very dirt-:.
.:-But still, like dust, I'll rise-:.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Bloody knuckles can tell a great story. And I'm sure each is different from the next. The dried blood smears as I try to rub it away and rid myself of the story that keeps playing in my head. I don't care about punching Plato, in fact, I could and would do it again instantly if he walked up to me right now. But I do care about the story my bloody knuckles keep telling me over, and over, and over. I remember the Reaping, crying like young child with no control. I remember why I cried and know that it wasn't because I was being sentenced to death or because my District partner was being sentenced to death. My eyes saw a different scene that day; A memory. The smoke in the air, dim light from the nearby street lamps, the patter of feet on wet pavement. Then a girl's screams and a bastard's laughter and then of course a gunshot. Blood. I wish It has been his blood smeared all over my knuckles, but instead it was hers. In my hands, on my shirt, spattered across her face, pooling beneath her body; Everywhere. And his laughter ... That son of bitch laughed at her; at the sight of her dead, mangled body.

I blink my eyes and find my jaw clamped and my fists clenched. I grasp for a hold back into reality and wipe over my face in case there are some tears there. I feel none but who is to say I haven't been sitting around for hours and the tears have all dripped and dried? I put my elbows on my knees and continue wiping the blood around on my hand with my head low. Maybe there is more than one story my knuckles can tell the world?

- - - - - - - - - -

A chill runs down my spine as I sit up in bed. My sister is huddled in a thick slough of blankets, sweating from the heat they provide. The window reveals a sunny day and one of my favorite things. Snow. I smile and hop out of bed, ignoring the protests of my feet as they hit the cold floor boards. I know that my mom will probably scold me for running through the apartment so carelessly and loudly, but I can't help myself; I want to go sledding. I run to my mother's door, knocking as she always asks me to. At first there is no answer, so I knock again when her voice reaches through the door to meet my ears. "Yeah, honey, j-just a second." I smile, wanting to surprise her with the news of snow. Not being able to wait, not wanting her to find out for herself first ... I couldn't wait.

- - - - - - - - - -

I was so young then, so naive. It was hard to understand at first because I had gotten over my dad's death. It had been a few months and as a child, you move on. So when my mom told me why she did it and she told me it made her feel better, didn't object. I wanted her to feel better. I guess I should've inferred when she told me not to tell anyone, even Emily, that it was a bit more severe than wanting to feel better. I remembered clasping her wrists in my hands, confused by her motives, asking what happened, who had hurt her that way ... I was such a stupid child. To think I could've stopped her then and I didn't ... Her death is somewhat my fault too. I pretty much kill every women I meet and know and love and care about. Maybe it is better this way, dying in the Games before I have the chance to meet more.

“I don’t believe it’s good for you to injure yourself right before the Games are going to begin. You’re gonna need blood to live.”

I turn my head to the sound of a girl jumping down from some stairs. I feel her weight as she sets herself down on the bench and look to see who it is. I almost think that some Peacekeepers sent her to calm me down or talk to me or counsel me on anger management or something then see that she looks more my age. Then contemplating more, I know if they wanted to have someone talk to me about things like that it would've been Lethe or Desual. Her words finally register in my mind and shove my fists into my pockets before replying. "Yeah."

I sit silently for a while, toying with Emily's necklace which I had almost forgotten I shoved into my pocket. I glance over at her, wondering if she will leave if I just don't say anything. A closer scan of her body language tells me no. So I bring the hood off my head and address her.

"So ... District 9, am I right?"

I am not genuinely caring about the conversation, but I may as well figure out. Maybe she is another one of those girls I end up killing.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

.:-Did you want to see me broken?-:.
.:-Bowed head and lowered eyes?-:.
.:-Shoulders falling down like teardrops-:.
.:-Weakened by my soulful cries-:.

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

SNOWFLAKES [Brik]
Tribute

[M:-1155]

487 POSTS
last seen Apr 27, 2013 14:22:20 GMT -5

-Radiant{open Jan 24, 2012 7:53:33 GMT -5

Post by SNOWFLAKES [Brik] on Jan 24, 2012 7:53:33 GMT -5

"As soon as the blood appears our world stops for the moment."

[/color][/center]

With intelligent, knowing eyes, she observed as he wiped the blood away and shove his slight-red fists into the pockets of his jacket, mumbling a word of agreement. Lightning knew the type he was, the kind of ‘suffer in silence’ guy that wouldn’t show any signs of weakness. She didn’t have anything against guys like such, but it was frustrating to hold a conversation with one, because they were always so guarded. They acted like they were a vault; they guarded themselves so carefully so that nobody could figure out their passwords. Oh well, I can at least try. He might not be as bad as I make him out to be…

She was just about to ask him what district he hailed from until he himself asked her the same question. Surprise took a small hold onto her, as she could never imagine that someone could get her District right. Nobody ever mentioned District 9, it was almost like it wasn’t even there. It was one of those unpopular districts that everybody asked “that’s a district?” Placing a small, half-fake, half-real smile upon her face, she nodded.
“Yeah. District Nine. The place where it’s either all factories or all grain fields. Kudos to you for getting it right.” As she said the second to last sentence, she sarcastically swung her arms out, acting as a ringleader drawing in people to her circus.

Putting her hands back in her lap, she picked at her thumbnail that had been decorated in black polish, not trying to get it off, but more of trying to find something for her hands could do. If she had just placed her hands in her lap like a normal person, her fingers would have started twitching (because she is horrible at staying still) and you wouldn’t exactly want someone to think you are a freak that twitches. He probably thinks that she was a freak already, having the insanity to come and talk to him, but then again, she isn’t exactly what you would call ‘normal.’ She was a broken thing with scars over her wrists and eyes that didn’t have any expression in them. He was a broken thing that could go to a masquerade party without a mask and still fit in, the mask of trying to hide his emotions plastered over his face. As she recalled that she thought earlier he is a broken thing, and so am I.

“So, erm… you are District… Seven? No, no… Um… I know for a fact you aren’t District Eight. Wait, wait, you are District Five, right?” She felt like an idiot for not knowing her own opponent’s District number. If she was going to die in the arena, she should at least know who’s killing her and from where.

Ally: obviously the B, R, I, K, N, O, P, and E, are silent, and it's pronounced "Fabulicious."

arx
Retired Staff

2,424 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Apr 18, 2024 20:03:20 GMT -5

literally so gay, doing so many crimes

-Radiant{open Jan 24, 2012 23:15:58 GMT -5

Post by arx on Jan 24, 2012 23:15:58 GMT -5

.:-Blythe Iden Godwin-Seavers-:.

.:-My emotions are storming-:.
.:-And tears fall just like rain-:.
.:-Pain strikes like lightning-:.
.:-Despair is becoming my friend-:.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

My head aches from all the flashing lights. It is so loud that I can barely hear myself think, and the beat is so loud that is making my chest pound 10 times harder than it normally would. Yeah, this place sure is kickin', but I think maybe it is time to head home. This isn't normally where me and the guys hang and I think that we are invading. Usually the guys don't tell me about the turf wars they begin but I always end up right in the middle somehow. But I sure am proud that they think I am good enough to be a front man. After all, I'm only 14, just a mere child compared to them. --- About three minutes later, I find myself on the floor of the club, eye swollen, lip bleeding, head fuzzy. There is some guy taunting me but I can barely see him, considering there is about three of the same guy and maybe four others around him. I know then I am in for some broken bones, maybe even death. Cause when I go done, my guys are gone. I'm alone.

- - - - - - - - - -

I could see that form the way she reacted that she was surprised. Whether it was because I actually took the initiative to ask her a question or because I was capable of noticing the Districts that each tribute belongs to, I am not sure; Until she answers me. “Yeah. District Nine. The place where it’s either all factories or all grain fields. Kudos to you for getting it right.” I could tell instantly that she didn't care for her home. And who could blame her? I hated District 5. And the only reason I didn't leave was because she was still there, always there, and could never leave. Therefore I stayed put. Maybe she lost someone? Maybe, just maybe, she is like me?

Her sarcasm was obvious though and I almost smiled. Almost. I try to look like I'm not watching her, looking for more things to ask or say, but I am. Her nails seem to be her safety net for awkward moments where as my pockets always seem to be. What was with this girl? She seems nice enough to me, great at conversing, confident enough to say what she wants and not care about who its hurts or what it may mean to someone else and yet ... She chose to sit down next to the boy with a hoody on his head, bloody knuckles, and a ~~killer's eyes~~ solemn look on his face. I rub the back of my neck, trying to figure her motives. All I can figure before she adds more is that she likes people who look like they want to kill someone. Odd.

“So, erm… you are District… Seven? No, no… Um… I know for a fact you aren’t District Eight. Wait, wait, you are District Five, right?”

Comical. I know this probably happens to most tributes who attempt to guess who each one is but she fails well enough to make it look good. 'Five, yeah." I look away again, hating that I'm such an awkward person. Damn ... Now what? I'm rubbing the back of my neck again and trying hard not to squirm in my seat. "Blythe." I offer my hand until I see the red stains that are still there. I pull it away quick in embarrassment an shove them back in my pockets. Idiot, idiot, so - so stupid ... God ... "And, uh, I think that - your name - is ... I let the Reapings play in my head ... District 9, District 9, District 9 - red head, no tears, right? I remember trying to find a way to remember all the names and hers matched District 9. District 9, 9 letter name. Yeah, and the boy was Relic. My own was District partner was Inkling. And hers ended the same way. Her name ...

"Lightning."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

.:-This is making me crazy-:.
.:-These black clouds following me-:.
.:-So I look for signs of light-:.
.:-But rarely I see them-:.

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

SNOWFLAKES [Brik]
Tribute

[M:-1155]

487 POSTS
last seen Apr 27, 2013 14:22:20 GMT -5

-Radiant{open Jan 25, 2012 19:49:17 GMT -5

Post by SNOWFLAKES [Brik] on Jan 25, 2012 19:49:17 GMT -5

"As soon as the blood appears our world stops for the moment."

[/color][/center]

Lightning usually hated people. Even if she knew them, maybe from school or from work, or even just people she had never seen before, roaming the street, she didn’t tolerate people too well. But this boy, by some miraculous miracle, she had managed not to bitch out in the first thirty seconds of her meeting him. To her, that was a feat that was hard for her to understand. Huh. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m gonna die soon, so I gave up the fight against everybody.

When he mentioned his name – Blythe - and then took a moment to try and remember her name, she was expecting for him to call her something the total opposite for Lightning. She was expecting something like “Thunder” or “Bolt” or something to do with the electric streaks that would be cast down to earth. But, she was actually taken aback when he repeated her name to her. Her left eyebrow slightly raised as she turned her head and looked at the boy that sat tense next to her. Damn. He pays attention. Compared to me, he’s like a genius.

Sarcasm tainting her expression, she did a silent clap, her hands stopping short of each of eachother before it could make a sound.
“That is correct, Mr. Blythe.” Putting her hands back in her lap, she smirked at herself. Faced with death, and I’m still a sarcastic bitch. Looks like I’m going to do down that way, too. “How can you remember all of these names and districts like you know them personally? I barely guessed your District, and I couldn’t even think of a name.” Lightning let a small smirk cross her face, and a snicker escaped from the small opening between her lips.