Project X (Day 4)

Spesh
Capitol Resident

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last seen Oct 22, 2023 19:21:42 GMT -5

being old af

Project X (Day 4) Jun 22, 2012 10:43:20 GMT -5

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Post by Spesh on Jun 22, 2012 10:43:20 GMT -5

The pangs of hunger replace the dry spot in my throat from yesterday. I know I’ll have to eat soon otherwise I’ll perish. It isn’t exactly a wonderful thing to have to deal with, I do like my life, but the only food I currently have is LeBlanc, and the ocean seems too rough to go swimming in.

Instead of staying at the Cornucopia like we have for basically the whole games, my alliance has traveled away from the forest and towards the beech. Here, there is absolutely no cover. Everything is open. We cannot hide. To go along with that, I cannot hear anything while I sleep since I refuse to put my head down where it is missing an ear. The pain for that would be too great. At least I got a bandage on it.

But then I hear it, I hear more people, and naturally I continue forwards with my spear. Going in for the attack.

[Attacks Pan w/Pike]
[dice=200+3000]
[block]

OOC: sorry this is short, it’s just I ran out of muse.

[rand=503798279911279762533350894227621834386477712541834524884866550565]

Last Edit: Jun 23, 2012 0:41:23 GMT -5 by Spesh

garnet beauford d8 [earthling]
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cameron stood in line for an hour for a stupid ride for me <3 best <3

Project X (Day 4) Jun 22, 2012 10:43:54 GMT -5

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Post by garnet beauford d8 [earthling] on Jun 22, 2012 10:43:54 GMT -5

This is my December, this is me alone, and I just wish that I didn't feel
Like there was something I missed

There is a heaviness that has nothing to do with the damp air, our soaked and sandy clothes. We have a ghost now, even though it was neither Mr. Liggens, nor Mr. Moreno, nor Mahlah, nor I who killed her. But she is everywhere, suddenly so much more vibrant than she had been since I met her on the stage in Ten. I think about her constantly; I have a feeling that Mace, or any sane person, would tell me not to, to forget the dead and focus on the living. But I can’t. It’s a good thing I slept well through the oncoming storm, because I found no rest this night.

It just drags on and on through the slow morning. I can still see the beauty in the sunrise, which is a comfort, the red and oranges playing through Mahlah’s dark hair. I’ve stayed on my right side all night, my left arm clutched between us. I wonder what the cameras and the Capitolites make of this nightly arrangement. I wonder if they think I’m a pervert for staying so close to a girl so young. But the truth is without Mahlah I’d have already lost myself to my wounds, to my grief, to my guilt. I promise myself every morning that I’ll give her more distance, try not to embarrass myself or her, but I can’t. I need her warmth, her steady arm, her few words.

We all rise entirely too early, because we’re all sick of pretending to sleep. I make some forced conversation with Mr. Liggens, but after LeBlanc’s death, it’s hard to find things in common. Eventually I admit defeat and go back to helping Mahlah clean up and repack. I’m hungry, in the way that has started to make me feel empty, but there’s so little food, and who knows when we’ll find more. It’s definitely time to go though. I dutifully follow Mr. Moreno as we strike out west.

Not far from the Cornucopia the sand strangles the earth, and there’s not even bits of plants to chew on. “Sorry,” I whisper to Mahlah, my voice hoarse from the morning and lack of water. The remaining full jug in my sack sloshes and taunts me, but Mace made one thing very clear: save the water I get until I’m on the brink of death. And while my left arm feels no better, I’m still a long way from that. I think. I hope.

Turns out it’s a whole different thing, watching hundreds of tributes die, and then knowing someone as she passes from this world. I carry a part of Mrs. Lexington with me, in all the waking hours since her death. There is only so much time to grieve, however. I told myself I would never again be so quick with my dagger, to look before I attacked, but as it turns out, I’m a slow learner.

[[ Elon attacks Pandora ; dagger ]]

[dice=200+2000]

[[ Deep Gash on Left Bicep -- 8.0 damage ]]

Except I do recognize him. It's Mr. Woodard, the man who turned on his ally, who fell or hugged or killed Mrs. Lexington. And I feel truly bad for him, for the guilt he must carry, that we all share, but it's not enough to cover some of the anger I feel too at the injustice of it all. This is just one cycle of death after death.

banner credit: it's a love story
lyrics: linkin park my december

[rand=70016389363445343923036551568657948839407879859204478156543336809]

Last Edit: Jun 22, 2012 10:50:51 GMT -5 by garnet beauford d8 [earthling]

credit gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan

credit ✨

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cyrus
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Project X (Day 4) Jun 22, 2012 10:47:35 GMT -5

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Post by cyrus on Jun 22, 2012 10:47:35 GMT -5

[Welcome to the Director’s Cut of Pan & Cy’s conversation!]

He was running, running harder and faster through the wind and the rain, sliding through the sand and along the outcropping of the beach. He twisted toward the ocean and could feel his lungs burning as he kept going, buoyed by the desire to get away from the cornucopia. He wanted to get away from the sight he’d just witnessed, from everything and everyone that was causing him pain. Part of him wanted to throw himself into the ocean. He wanted to just quit, then and there, and perhaps disappear forever. But the glint of metal on his left hand reminded him that he had to see this through to the end. He could survive, he could see it through to another day. And he knew that trailing behind was Pandora, the good and gentle—albeit he tried not to show it—that had just been rattled by their last fight. At last they came to an outcropping of rocks just along the edge of what appeared to be the entrance of the cove, and Cyrus stopped. He bent over, hands on his knees, the rain coming down in sheets as it dripped along his face and mixed with the mucus running out of his nose. It was then that he heard a terrible wail from behind. It sounded like the life was being ripped out of someone, and it sent shivers down his spine. At last Cyrus turned to see Pandora on the ground, face against the sand.

"Damn them all!" Pandora was prostrate against the ground, flinging his fists into the sand. Cyrus was curious as to what he was to do then. Did he comfort Pandora? Was he supposed to go over and pet him or something like that? Cyrus was horrible at human interactions, especially when people were upset. He always did or said the wrong thing. And at the moment he too was still reeling from losing Nonnie. It had been his mistake that they go to the cornucopia. If he had listened to Nonnie, they would have come to the beach a lot sooner, and she might not have been dead. She might have even lived to see yet another day, and all of them could be laughing in the warm sand together. He took a few steps toward Pandora but stopped just short of him.

"It wasn't right... it wasn't right... " He managed to get out, still rather breathless from his run. He was not going to cry then, not when it was clear that Pandora needed him to be strong. He could do that for his friend, he could be strong and bury down his feelings. He could push them away and be like he had always been, a nervous ball of energy but ignorant to the emotions that so many others faced. But this time he wasn’t doing it because he didn’t understand. No, he knew why Pandora was hurting, as he was hurting too. But he wasn’t about to let the both of them fall apart then and there. Instead he watched Pandora on the sand, his hair blowing in the wind and his forhead brushing gently against the ground. There was a long silence—was it a few minutes or more—before Cyrus went over to Pandora and at last bent down by his side.

"P-pan...? " He mustered out as he wrapped an arm around the hurting boy. For someone so averse to touch, this was the first time in a long while it had felt natural. It was okay for him to touch Pandora because this is what people did, they touched one another to let them know they understood the pain and anguish. Because I understand this pain. I understand this pain and I want to show it to Pandora. He doesn’t have to feel like he’s alone. He doesn’t have to feel like he’s the only one that has to hurt.

[/i] The wet sand squished against his boots and rubbed against the boy’s exposed skin at the knee. A few more drops of rain fell as he stroked Pandora’ back.

"I killed their mother... " The words escaped Pandora’s lips and Cyrus could only wrap himself more tightly around him. While the statement was inherently true, it wasn’t Pandora that had truly killed Nonnie. It was their decision to go into the cornucopia. It was the four demons that had decided her life wasn’t worth living before. It was their bitter bad luck that had determined she would be dead. It was not Pandora’s faulty blade that had truly taken her life. His was almost out of mercy, even if an accident, than anything else. Better he kill her on accident than her life to be taken out spite or rage.

"You didn't... it was an accident... " Cyrus whispered as he tried his best to calm Pandora. How was he supposed to tell him that he didn’t believe that any of this was truly his fault? He could only know that maybe by showing Pandora how much he cared, that he wasn’t like the others that were trying to kill him—and how silly was that, how illogical—that the boy wouldn’t be so upset.

But it seemed as though this was exactly the wrong thing to say to this tempest in a teapot. Pandora pushed Cyrus off him, and turned on him in a rage, brandishing his rapier as if Cyrus was to be his next target. He was shocked as he lay back on his hands in the sand, staring up at Pandora. He could reached for his harpoon and brought it up to defend himself. He could’ve tried to run away. But Cyrus was too tired for either of those things. He was too tired and too devoted now to believe that Pandora would truly hurt him. He didn’t believe the scared look in the boy’s eyes meant that he was going to stab the rapier through his heart. And if he were wrong, he would rather die than have to face the truth of having been wrong about him this whole time. No, instead he spoke to Pandora, calmly and quietly.

"It wasn't your fault. " It was all he could say now as he looked up at Pandora. The wind swept across his face, now showing signs of a little beard, and he didn’t show fear. He wasn’t going to cower, he wasn’t going to give this world the thrill that he would be afraid of one of the only friends he’d managed to make. Sure it was stupid that he trusted this boy so much. Sure there wasn’t too much of a logical reason behind it, other than staying alive a little bit longer. But he wasn’t afraid to believe in people, even in times of great terror. And so he stared up at Pandora and waited.

"You know what the worst part is...? " The words dripped from Pandora’s lips as the rain continued to fall. A rumble of distant thunder crept in the distance. Cyrus shook his head. He didn’t know what was hurting Pandora so, but he desperately wanted to find out. Pan’s breath grew quicker as he stood there, attempting to explain just what was deep inside of him. He looked wild now, as though something was burning up inside of him. Cyrus thought he’d seen the look in the eyes of the other tributes in the moments right before they dug into Fawn or Nonnie’s skin. "A sick part of me enjoyed it... Some twisted area of my brain liked the feeling of steel on flesh... "

"You should get away from me... " Pandora whispered this as he walked a few steps away. Cyrus could see the struggle in the boy’s face and he frowned. Pandora didn’t want to hurt Cyrus, but he would have to at some point if he wanted to win. And yet Cyrus wanted to cross that bridge when they got to it. He wanted to get to the end and then have the two of them decide for themselves. They would decide when they were free to do so, but not before then, to take either of themselves from this world. Because Cyrus would not ever, ever harm Pandora if it meant purely personal gain. He still couldn’t reconcile it, even though it had been nearly four days, and he refused to. There was still no blood on his hands and he believed that Pandora was not a cold blooded killer. He trusted him.

"No. No I'm not going to. " He wasn’t going to leave Pandora, not until it was over. Not until one of them was on the ground and not breathing. He had come too far, it had been too long for him to just walk away from one of his allies. It wasn’t fair. He needed to understand how Cyrus felt. He needed to know that he couldn’t just leave, Cyrus needed him to stay. He needed Pandora to be there and for him to be able to go forward… there was nothing more important, nothing keeping him going than this friendship. And if he left, if he just walked away from Cyrus it would crush him. Perhaps he was being selfish, perhaps he wasn’t understanding that this couldn’t happen, that they couldn’t really know each other but Cyrus couldn’t care less. As the rain fell and the waves crashed against the sand, he bore hard down on Pandora and took a few steps closer.

"I'm not going to leave you behind. You didn't do it... it's this... " He motioned to the world around him. It wasn’t his fault that they faced such dangers. There was a gamemaker, there were people rooting for and against them. There were people that wanted to see blood, and they wanted to see a lot of it, so how could it have possible been his fault? And he was forced into this. Unlike Cyrus he wasn’t a volunteer. He was just another boy swept up into a godforsaken place that would spit one of them (or both of them) out and leave them for dead. "It's this and it's terrible, and you're good Pan... you were doing something good... you didn't mean... it wasn't your... "

He stopped again, standing in place. He was overcome with the anxiety that had welled up in his chest, and he hunched over, physically trying to push it back down and into himself. He wanted to say what he felt and to mean what he said. Maybe if he could just tell Pandora, maybe he could just say something that would make him feel better. He just wanted to be honest. He just wanted to let him know that even in this messed up game there was someone that he could depend on, because Cyrus wasn’t going anywhere. "You are good, you are... and I... " He looked down at the ground. But he was stupid, wasn’t he? He was stupid for even suggesting something like that. He cared too much about people here where he should’ve not felt anything. His voice came out as something of a whisper, "I don't want you to go. "

"I want to go home... " Pandora was changing now, putting away his weapon and signaling that perhaps he wasn’t about to cut him into pieces after all. His voice was quieter, and Cyrus inched a bit closer to him. "That's all I want... "

"We're going to... " He stopped, realizing the word, the simple word that was wrong to say. He clasped a hand over his mouth as he said it. He wanted to reach out into the air and grab it before it went too far, before it had a chance to poison the air. But it was too late, and now he could see that he was hurting Pan. He only wanted to make things right, he had never meant to hurt anyone. "I just... "

"Don't…" Pandora’s voice rang out as the rain continued to fall. It was a plea to him to not make them united, to not make it hurt so much, was that it? But Pandora was a part of Cyrus now, whether he liked it or not. They would have spent nearly four days together now, and Cyrus had spent more time with him than nearly anyone he’d known back home. For Cyrus had always been a loner, he had always been an outcast with his aspergers, and he had been foolish. Even now he was foolish in wanting to make it right.

"I just want to make it okay... " Cyrus turned away this time, knowing that he had gone too far. He always upset everyone that he tried to protect. Every single person that he had grown close to seemed to disappear and flutter out of his life. Fawn and Nonnie were gone. Tatum, the wandering girl that had taken Cyrus, she was gone too. And now Pandora wanted to leave him. And his words were never good enough because he could never speak in a way that the others would understand. He crossed his arms across his chest, still trying to bury the anxiety. "I just wanted to... "

Pandora sat and looked at the sea. The rain fell for another few moments and lightning crashed along the horizon. It was peaceful now, despite the mood. They were safe for another few hours at least, until another band of tributes would stumble upon them again. Perhaps they could hide out here for a while, without the fear of being discovered. But all this was too much for Cyrus, who began to flap his arms to relieve some of his anxiety. He was no superman. In fact he was barely a man at all, more of a child than anything else. He was just a boy that wanted so desparately to be free and to explore and go home, and it all was so much for him… he started to flap his arms nervously and pace around.

"Stupid... stupid... stupid... " He whispered over and over again, trying to calm himself. When he had been a child it was his natural reaction to most situations. He would sit and flap his arms, and then he would rock back and forth trying to calm himself. Because that was the way that he could get the anxiety out, he would have to flap his arms and think of happy things. Only now there was nothing coming to him, and he could only imagine his stupidity at trying to lead them all to safety. "It's not your fault... it's my fault... stupid... "

"You're fucking weird, Cyrus... " The words cut through the air and Cyrus continued to pace around nervously. He moved around in a circle, and turned to see that Pandora actually had a smile upon his face. He continued to flap his arms until he came up to where the boy was sitting, and flopped himself down. "But I like you..."

"I like you too. And I liked Nonnie. And Fawn... I... I just... " He bit his lip and stared out at the sea. Was this a test? Was this a test for him to run from temptation, to not love someone so obviously bound for death? But what kind of faith would that build? What kind of world would want him to not care about Pandora Woodards? No, Cyrus would not let the world dictate his actions any more than it already was doing. He was going to live the way he saw fit here, whether that brought him immense pain or joy.

"I know... " Pan yawned, signaling that it was beginning to get late. Without the sun or moon, it was hard to tell just what time it was, though Cyrus was sure that it would be time for sleep soon. One of them would have to take watch and the other would sleep. His insides scrunched up to the idea of not being awake when other tributes would come, and finding Pandora face down in the sand.

"You won't go to sleep yet will you? " Cyrus pleaded now, staring over at Pan as a younger brother would look to an older one. He knew that the boy probably thought that he was going to ask him to take first watch, but that wasn’t what was running through his mind. No, there was more that he needed from Pandora than protection. There was more and he would get it, whether or not it was their last night in this place.
Reluctantly the teenager shook his head. Pandora was too strong of a boy to let Cyrus take first watch, anyway. He was a proud warrior. Cyrus believed he thought of himself as strong, as the steel girder that wasn’t about to broken down after all the blows it had taken. But Cyrus could see past that now. He could see that there was something deeper. Pandora yawned again. "I'll take first watch... "

"I want to stay up with you! " Cyrus blurted it out. He didn’t even pause to register the shock that he had probably given his ally. He was not going to sleep just yet either, he had too much on his mind for that. "I want to stay up with you and I want you to tell me... tell me about you Pandora Woodards! I want to know about you, and your house, and do you have brothers and sisters? And what's your middle name, and, AND do you like the summer or the winter... and, and... "

"About... Me? " Pandora seemed perplexed by what he had to say. It was if the boy had never thought someone here would want to know anything about him. "Why? "

Cyrus was almost crying then as he barely held it together, and he looked out at the ocean and then back to Pandora. "Because I want to know... I don't want you to just disappear if you... if I... I don't want to not have asked you... I want to know... "

Pandora sighed. It was certain that Cyrus was naïve. He wanted to feel something for Pandora. He didn’t want to not know about him in his death. He wanted to make it through this and see it to the end, though it was so uncertain, and then have the choice. Because that was the truest sense of freedom that Cyrus could think of here. They could take his friends away from him, but they couldn’t take away their memories. They could take their lives but if he could still speak his name, he wouldn’t disappear forever.

"Well... " Pandora seemed uncomfortable, almost tentative at the thought. But Cyrus pulled his knees up to his chest and looked at Pan, like a child, in such a way that had to be hard to refuse. He was staring at him intently, even as the rain soaked his hair and ran down his chin. "I'm somewhat of a sleeparound, if you're familiar with the phrase... At least... I thought I was... " he starts, thinking about how he's changed, "And I can tell you didn't watch my reaping, because I have a twin brother who tried to volunteer for me... "

"I also have a little sister, Hope... " He smiled, something that made Cyrus smile too. He liked seeing when Pandora would smile. He could imagine why the girls thought that he was handsome. "And my middle name is Luther... "

"Summer's too hot, Winter's too cold, I'm an Autumn kinda guy... " He grinned, looking rather pleased with himself. "How was that? "

Cyrus grinned and put his chin down on his knees. He even let out a little laugh. "Luther... " He mouthed as he let all of it process. It was exactly what he had wanted from Pandora, even if it all came so late. He was finally learning something, something that he could remember about Pandora Woodards. And that made him happy for the first time since the beginning of the games.

"Hey! I'm opening up to you here!! " Pandora laughed a bit at Cyrus, and again Cyrus tugged his knees tighter to his chest. He had always been the older brother, but now he felt as though he was looking up to someone. Pandora was strong, and interesting. He was something of a mystery to be sure, but at least he was willing to tell Cyrus something about himself.

Cyrus chewed his lips and laughed a little bit again as he whipped his went hair backward. "What's District 8 like? What do you like to eat? Are you... is there anyone... " He fidgeted a bit, thinking of Tatum. Was she waiting for him after this? Did she even know he’d gone into the games, and that he may never return? He heard Pandora’s voice again and turned back to face him.

"No, the whole fucking district is empty… It's just... It's home... It's pretty normal. Sure, there's fabric everywhere... Our clothes are fantastic... and the food is sublime... we get great Leeks in the spring... " As he rattled off the list of things about his district, Cyrus could see the tears well up in Pandora’s eyes. He shifted in his spot, now anxious that he had caused Pandora to remember painful memories.

"Oh... oh no I... " Cyrus leaned forward and put his hands on Pan's knees awkwardly. He looked at the boy and tried to think of what he was supposed to do. He was no good at any kind of interaction, not in the normal sense, and now he’d made Pandora cry. Why did it seem like he couldn’t do anything right? "It's okay... I miss it too... I miss it and I hated it, and I didn't mean to... I won't ask anything else now... "

Pan said nothing to this, but stared out to the ocean, the rain plastering his hair to his face. He was retreating back into his shell once again, and Cyrus felt awful. Cyrus was supposed to be the strong one, the one who took care of how things felt. He was the one that was supposed to bear the weight of it all, because Pandora was supposed to attack, not think. "It's... " Cyrus moved again, awkwardly crouching in front of Pandora. He never liked touching people but this... this was different. Pandora was his... friend? And yet he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. At last, he moved inward and against Pandora, wrapping his arms around him in a hug. "It's hard…it's so hard, I didn't think it would so hard... and I'm sorry... I'm sorry... " He said this, but it's not sure if this is to Pan or to whoever is watching at home. He was sorry for the way everything had turned out. It was one big mess, and nothing would ever turn the clock back.

"It's okay... " Cyrus could hear Pan’s muffled voice, but there was no return of the hug. Pan simply sat there, letting Cyrus grip him in his arms tightly. "Games are supposed to be fun... But I don't like this either… but we have to play to win... ”

Cyrus stared at Pandora and moved back a bit before looking down at the ground. There was the old Pandora that he had known. There was the fighter rising up against whatever he was facing. They could do this. They could conquer whatever came there way and they would, because he was Pandora and he was Cyrus. He grinned as he looked over at Pandora. "I never did anything the way I was told... "

"Get some sleep, Asshole... " Pan grinned, standing up. "I can't have you falling asleep whilst Moreno's trying to kill me... "

It wasn’t long after that they found Jana Hale. She was pretty badly bruised, and though Pan would’ve killed her in an instant, Cyrus didn’t have the heart to turn her away. Three was better than two, and at this point they needed all the help they could get. And so Cyrus tended to Jana and finally was washed over in sleep, letting the world slip away from him. It was calm in his dreams, the best part of the day, when he didn’t have to think about fighting. Then he could be at peace, and see the faces of those he might not have been able to see in life.

Of course, his luck was to run out not long after waking. For the foes they had just faced stumbled upon them, and this time they were looking to take Pandora. Cyrus would not stand for this. He would not see another one of his allies die, not to the ones that had just killed Nonnie. He took up his Harpoon and sped toward them. One of them would die by his hand, for today Cyrus Malloc would have his luck. Today was the day.

[Cyrus Rushes into the fray!]

[/justify][/blockquote][/size]

Last Edit: Jun 22, 2012 15:17:41 GMT -5 by cyrus

gxk
Retired Staff

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When in doubt flail it out

Project X (Day 4) Jun 22, 2012 10:53:59 GMT -5

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Post by gxk on Jun 22, 2012 10:53:59 GMT -5

Filler filler. Jana is like wtf? Just do what her alliance does, attack with awesome knife.

[attacks Walker]

[dice=200+2000]

Severed Left Ear -- 8.0 damage

[rand=82861462607979773739186711609363658368919743224986863658782094717]

Last Edit: Jun 22, 2012 10:55:32 GMT -5 by gxk

rook
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Pronouns: he/him
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who needs another thing to be sad about?

Project X (Day 4) Jun 22, 2012 11:15:06 GMT -5

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Post by rook on Jun 22, 2012 11:15:06 GMT -5

p a n d o r a + w o o d a r d s

_{the businessmen drink my blood
like the kids in art school said they would
well i guess i‘ll just begin again
you say can we still be friends}

[/sub][/color]

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

_{We’re running. Running in the dark and running in the rain. Away from the Careers, away from Noreen’s unmoving body and her empty words that hang in the air with no purpose. Murder is all that’s behind me. It’s all a blur as the darkness swooms around me, rain lashing at my face, whipping me for the crime I have committed. Pandora Woodards, the murderer. That’s all I ever was, a killer. I got a Nine in training, didn’t I? That’s why I’ve been so ruthless in my attacks.

Cyrus leads me into a cove of sorts, an outcropping of rocks. It’s shelter, which is all that matters. I run forward, my feet making sloppy steps in the muddy sand. I fall to my knees with a howl that would alert any tribute nearby. A wail of despair and emotion, it says it all. I’m a wreck, a useless bag of bones. I want to die, I want to run back to the Careers and back to Nonnie, let them kill me… I want to say how sorry I am, how stupidly sorry she made me feel. I see my odds drop with the sloppy mistake that saw me kill my own Ally. I bet Caesar and Claudius are laughing at that one.

I thump the ground with my fists, pounding at invisible faces in the concoction of seawater and rain, my own reflection is all that’s being hit. That’s the real enemy: myself. A brutal fighting machine. I was clumsy, pathetic, overconfident. Elon saw it coming, he moved, I killed Noreen. I’m an idiot. A useless idiot.

“Damn them all!” I yell, curling up with my forehead pressed against the brown, slushy sand. I’m so angry with all of them: Elon, Jae, Mahlah, Walker… I could have taken them, at least one of them. I could have tried. I feel so hollow and meaningless. I’m going to die in this hell hole, and what’s more I’ll die a murderer.

The motherless twin that killed a mother of twins…

That’s what I’ll die as. Not as a changed person, nor someone in love, nor someone who’s made friends and grown into a nice guy. I’m not any of that. I’m a murderer. Plain and simple.
“It wasn’t right… It wasn’t right…” Comes Cyrus’ voice, shaky and dry. I don’t respond, I just curl up with my bloody, disfigured cheek pressed into the grainy sand. His voice is so far away, so distant to my mind. The rain plasters my hair to my face, it’s the first shower I’ve had since the games began, so I’m happy to have the blood washed off my shoulder and leg. Still, it doesn’t wash away the pain of what I’ve done… I’m still a monster.

“P-pan?” Comes Cyrus’ voice again, pleading almost. His arm wraps around my shoulder. What does he want me to say? Does he want reassurance? I’m not his friend, I’m his ally, there’s a difference. I’m not going to hug him and smile at him and tell him I’ll keep him safe. I’m not any of that, because I can’t keep that kind of promise. I made a mental vow to keep Nonnie alive, for her kids, and not only did I break that promise, I tarnished it.

“I killed their mother…” I mutter, fists clenched tightly. My face is red, not with the pain of tears, but anger. Raw anger. Those kids will grow up as I did, without a mother, relying only on each other and their father. It’s all because of me. All because I was careless, clumsy, overconfident. The cocky Pandora I agreed to be led to me killing someone I actually cared about.

“You didn’t… It was an accident…” He says, I turn to him with my alarming red face and push him away from me. He falls onto his back, I draw my sword and point it at his neck. Standing over him, a looming tower on the sands, similar to back in the forest. I’ll kill him. What does he know? What does HE understand? He’s no-one, he’s not carrying the burden I am. He’s a number, a number on my list to kill.
“You know what the worst part is?” I yell at him, the unmoving Cyrus Malloc shakes his head. He does not draw his weapon, nor respond. His face is as concerned as it was when we arrived. I underestimate him, he’s a lot more stable than me. My pace quickens.
“A sick part of me enjoyed it…” I say, recalling the way my blade cut through her throat. It possessed me, made me want more, “Some twisted area of my brain liked the feeling of steel on flesh…” I pant, staring into the whites of his eyes. After a while, I stop pointing my sword at him and sheath my weapon. I can’t kill him, I need him. I walk away, facing the sea.

“You should get away from me…” I say, my breath slows down. The rain drenches me, but it’s quite picturesque. The way little ripples form in the wide ocean before me. Thunder lights the horizon and I see the shimmer of the force-field in the sky, it ruins the otherwise natural beauty of this tropical world. I think how once we’re all dead and gone, this will be a tourist attraction… People will stand here and remember the way Pandora threatened Cyrus after killing Noreen. My stomach turns at the thought of those pigs.

“No. No, I’m not going to.” He says, coming closer.
Just leave me
I want to be alone. I want to die. I’m fed up of this stupid game we’re forced to play. I’ve stopped caring, wanting, hoping and believing. I just want to wash away.
“I’m not going to leave you behind. You didn’t do it… It’s this…” I listen to him stutter, his words are clutching at me to hang on. If not for me, then for Cyrus. He’s a number, but he’s all I’ve got, It’s this and it’s terrible, and you’re good Pan… You were going something good… You didn’t mean… It wasn’t your… You ARE good, you are… And I…” He pauses. His words get to me, give me meaning again. Maybe he’s right, maybe I am good. Maybe it was an accident. I’m not the killer, I just stopped her suffering.
“I don’t want you to go…”

He’s right. I can’t leave. I put my hands on my head and sigh in acceptance.
“I just want to go home… That’s all I want…” I miss Rubik, Hope… I even miss my drunken, abusive father. I miss the arguments, the disputes, the crap food and the long winters… The scraping by, the daily grind… I miss it because it’s normal. I miss it because it’s my life.
“We’re going to…” He pauses, realizing he used a dodgy word, “I just…”
“Don’t…”
“I just want to make it okay…” He turns away, muttering something. I stare at him briefly, before staring back out to sea. The stunning maelstrom is a vast change from the boiling heat of yesterday.
“I just wanted to…” He mutters again, staring to pace the sand behind me, his hands flap about and he glares angrily at the ground, “Stupid… Stupid… Stupid…” He repeats, pacing angrily. Among this madness of death, thunder and bloodshed, I manage a smile. Cyrus is an enigma for sure, strange right to his core.

“You’re fucking weird, Cyrus!” I laugh, sitting down in the sand, hands wrapped around my knees, “But I like you…”
And it’s in that moment that I decide Cyrus Malloc isn’t a number, he’s someone I can rely on. Someone who will have my back, even if he’s a really bad fighter and not too quick, he’s got my back, he got me out of that scramble with the Careers. If he hadn’t of been there to say otherwise, I would have died trying to take them all down. He keeps me sane.
Cyrus stops pacing.
“I like you too. And I liked Nonnie… and Fawn! I… I just…”
“I know…” I stop him, looking down. He sits down next to me, almost defeated. I yawn, my eyes tired. I didn’t sleep much last night, as I let Noreen and Cyrus rest whilst I took a long watch-shift.
“You won’t go to sleep yet, will you?” He says, suggesting he couldn’t survive without me watching over him. I grin and shake my head, I have more resilience than this.
“I’ll take first watch…” I offer, but he stops me.
“I want to stay up with you!!” His words are quick and loud, I’m taken back a little.

“I want to stay up with you and I want you to tell me… Tell me about Pandora Woodards…” He’s like a little kid, desperate to know who I am.
I go to speak, but he interrupts me again, “I want to know about you, and your house, and do you have brothers and sisters?” He’s treating our death sentence like a sleepover, or a meet-and-greet, it’s odd, “And what’s your middle name? And… AND do you like summer, or winter… And… And…” He wants to go on, my face is one of shock, but a nice shock. No one has ever really asked about my personal life. Even Destiny was brief, we asked names and Districts, the rest was just chemistry really, we didn’t really dwell on our past lives.

I stop him, answering his questions as accurately as I can, “I'm somewhat of a sleeparound, if you're familiar with the phrase... At least... I thought I was... And I can tell you didn't watch my reaping, because I have a twin brother who tried to volunteer for me…” I start, Cyrus listens like a child listening to a story, ”I also have a little sister, Hope… And my middle name is Luther…” He stares at me, expecting more.
“How was that?” I ask. He laughs, telling me my middle name is strange, I complain that I’m opening up to him and that he doesn’t care. We both laugh for a while longer, then I tell him about District Nine, the winters, the fabrics, the mills. He tells me about his home and I take the first shift, letting him sleep.

It’s a good night. One I won’t forget. Even if I die tomorrow, I’ll be happy.

I’m no monster, I’m just a kid…

The next day we run into Jana, she’s on her own and vulnerable. Following our previous safety in numbers tactic, we let her come with us. She tells us about how she took on a mutant lion the day before, we’re both impressed by her combat skills. I’m cautious about her, since I don’t really know her that well, but I trust she won’t turn on us. Losing Fawn and Nonnie was a blow, but it’s reassuring to have Jana, who seems pretty independent and free-lance. She seems to know how to handle herself.

We stray the beach, searching for any lone tributes to attack, instead we find quite the opposite. It’s the Careers again, they stand almost waiting for us. I grunt, this is round two. Before Cyrus can stop me I’m charging forwards. These assholes killed Noreen, not me… And now I’m going to kill them. I think of the feeling of sword on flesh and it fuels me to kill. I head for Walker, he’s my target. I’m surpised to see Jana overtake me, she’s really quick! Before I can blink she’s cut Walker’s other ear off, now he stands there with no ears. It brings a smile to my face, but then Walker’s on me, trying to get me with his weapon. I dodge it, but feel a sharp pain in my leg.

Elon.

His knife cuts my leg deep and I snarl. I turn to Walker, he’s our target. He’s the one to die. I slash my Rapier, my beautiful Rapier, aiming for Walker’s throat. This time, I won’t miss. This time, he’s mine.

[[Attacks Walker, Rapier]]
[dice=200+1000]
[[Shallow Cut on Left Thigh -- 3.5 damage]]}

_{narrative
thoughts
persona speech
speech of others

notes Aww heyl naw.
theme “Ready to Start” Arcade Fire.}[/color][rand=64836069861398858652213320899398507969795218084095187587872725]

Last Edit: Jun 22, 2012 11:17:25 GMT -5 by rook

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]
Retired Staff

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cozy, queer af

Project X (Day 4) Jun 22, 2012 14:39:53 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] on Jun 22, 2012 14:39:53 GMT -5

Fuck this. Fuck it all.

Though the night treated me fairly the day before, now it only taunts me. Shadows creep over me and over my allies, maybe pulling them to sleep just fine... but not me. Never. They remind me of home - the shadows - and of nights spent clutching knives underneath my pillow, waiting for the shadows of my brothers to creep up over me. They would stand there, for a few seconds. Ripred only knows what they would do during that time. Regretfully ponder their actions?

Pfft.

No, never. On those nights, laying there with the knife in hand, watching out of the corner of my eye for that instant when they would crash towards me with their blades, I could hear them. I swear I could.. but really I just know.

I know what runs through a person's head right before they stab someone through the heart.

And it is not "Is this right? Should I?"

Well, unless you're my brother. He never stood over my bed at night with a knife; he wasn't like that. Well, clearly. He wimped out - allowed himself to question. Those tiny accusations would pop into his brain. The sympathy rested on his face as obvious as the color of his skin. Maybe my parents couldn't tell, but I could. He was weak. But me? No! I don't allow questions to eat at me like that.

It takes work, but I remain like stone, emotionless except for the anger that I can't (and won't) contain.

But tonight, just like the other night, those questions peek through. The sand is not comfortable to lay on, and the sounds of the Arena keep me up. I never got much sleep at home, either, but this is ridiculous.

Will I die today?

Who will kill me?

What if a mutt attacks us while we sleep?

What if an alliance is hunting us?

And all of these what ifs and whys won't go away. With the storm, I'm cold and the sand sticks to my clothing. Do the cameras follow us at night? God I hope not. Night is disgusting, so I decide that I won't sleep.

So I get up and watch the moon with my one good eye.

What is he? The Capitol wonders.

I don't sleep and I don't think, just watch the night until finally my eyelids droop. Maybe I get some rest, but it seems only like an hour before the sun peeks over the horizon. I look towards my alliance members, but I feel apart from them. I am stone, and they are living, breathing, vibrant. When they begin to wake, I open my mouth to say something, to smile and be accepted, but I don't know what I might tell them. "Oh, yeah, we're a good team, by the way"? Bullshit. Mahlah rests on Elon's arm, I stand away from them, and Walker seems to have drawn into himself, worrying only about food and water and survival. Humanity doesn't exist on an empty stomach, I suppose.

What is said between us is through glances. In my case, I try to meet their eyes, but I think my deformed face makes them feel uncomfortable. Who knows? My image now is one completely of blood. Walker's is turning out to be the same, with his ear gone. We both look pretty funny, actually. I almost laugh, but instead I grin at him and then look up at the sky where the moon has hid itself.

We set off towards the beach within ten minutes, because there's nothing to do. We could eat, but we don't want to waste food. We could drink, but our water is so precious. We could talk, but nobody has anything to say. Never before in my life have I been so silent.

And then I see them - the shadows. But it's not night anymore, and they don't creep over my pillow.

A group of three figures. "Look," I say to my allies, my voice empty from lack of use. I like the way the word rolls of my tongue, so I let more words tumble out.

"They're the ones from yesterday.. and the day before."

Weighed down by my anchor, it takes me more time to run towards the shadows than my allies. They fly ahead first, their feet meeting sand in a slow and steady beat until we are upon them.

I'd like to say something, but I can't. I can only think of the night, and how it feels to stab someone through the heart.

[Attacks Pandora - Knife]
[dice=200+2000]
[2175 -- Severed Finger on Left Hand -- 8.5 damage]

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[rand=87372357619063874724009101096026428294344060027150509336051125]

Last Edit: Jun 22, 2012 14:41:13 GMT -5 by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]

warehouse

sbeeg
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Project X (Day 4) Jun 23, 2012 0:40:05 GMT -5

Quote

Post by sbeeg on Jun 23, 2012 0:40:05 GMT -5

Mahlah Shea

After a few days by the golden horn, the alliance of tributes moved forward. Hunger was starting to eat away at Mahlah's stomach and her lips were chapped. The day was fairly cool, with light sprinkling rain making it more humid. The air was heavy around them and weighed down their burdens even more. The exhilaration of the sponsor gift had passed and now Mahlah trudged along like her brothers- hunched shoulders with dark circles under their eyes. Sleep did not come easily in the Arena and even with her hand clasped in Elon's the girl found herself lying on the ground and looking up at the stars. The tribute had a small bundle of plants with her and they looked so tempting but the others decided to wait as long as possible. Easy for them to say, Mahlah was a third their size.

The others were way ahead of her, working faster than she could think. A group of three tributes was up ahead and she recognized all of them. Two were from yesterday (one being the boy who had charged Elon. She glared at him before looking the others over). There was new girl with them, she had been with Killian before.

Killian... Mahlah had broken his wrist. She had watched him die. How many deaths had she witnessed and how many more would she live to see? Her brothers were already taking action to defend their family. The boys got pretty good hits on the boy who had killed Nonnie the day before, but the same boy managed to slice off Walker's other ear. Blood was everywhere, but Mahlah was already slipping between the bodies- sticking her own blade out for an attack.

[Attacks Pandora with Switchblade]
[dice=200+2000]
[Shallow Cut on Forehead -- 4.5 damage]

[/size]
[rand=02871506055817008666751524899154929805400222539922635963535867631]

Last Edit: Jun 23, 2012 0:40:39 GMT -5 by sbeeg

Spesh
Capitol Resident

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being old af

Project X (Day 4) Jun 23, 2012 0:43:08 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Spesh on Jun 23, 2012 0:43:08 GMT -5

I PRAY TO RIPRED SO HARD THIS FILLER = 8+, because WALKER DOESN"T WANT TO DIEEEEEEEE!

Also, he is freaking out because he has no ears left... his sunglasses fell off rather dramatically

this is a filler, btw.

[Attacks Pan w/Pike]
[dice=200+3000]
[Miss]

You actually f*cking suck at life, Walker Liggens. By all means, enjoy your imminent death and miss the target.

[rand=2371015062090009572919106017798190393985402770340448362023266963661]

Last Edit: Jun 24, 2012 11:07:30 GMT -5 by Spesh

garnet beauford d8 [earthling] Administrator 9,452 POSTS Pronouns: She/Her last seen Apr 18, 2024 8:31:45 GMT -5 cameron stood in line for an hour for a stupid ride for me <3 best <3	Project X (Day 4) Jun 23, 2012 9:56:54 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by garnet beauford d8 [earthling] on Jun 23, 2012 9:56:54 GMT -5 [/size][/ul] [rand=808786885347217326614626147784294544065620284527536211114027537405]
	Last Edit: Jun 23, 2012 9:57:19 GMT -5 by garnet beauford d8 [earthling] credit gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan credit ✨ - chars -

cyrus
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Project X (Day 4) Jun 23, 2012 12:10:56 GMT -5

Quote

Post by cyrus on Jun 23, 2012 12:10:56 GMT -5

He would not be a victim. He would not be struck down and he would not be afraid. He would not let them take Pandora that way. He would not let them take his friend like they had taken Nonnie. No, it was terrible, and once again they were destroying a bit of hope that Cyrus had used to fuel himself. They were taking away one of the last few rays of hope that Cyrus had, and with it snuffed out he would find it hard to continue. He had just taken the time to learn about Pandora Luther Woodards, and just as quickly as he had learned of the boy’s home and his penchant for leeks, he was going to be snuffed out. It was this that fueled Cyrus now as he pushed his way into the fray with Pandora and Jana.

He newfound ally proved her worth quite quickly: he lopped off Walker’s ear as though it was nothing, and Cyrus was almost taken aback at her prowess. As usual, Pandora was able to get in a decent hit, but there were just so many of them, and already there was blood. The sands would be littered with it by the end of this, as well as with a body. But what could he do to prevent it? Why was it that he was so challenged, that all of those that he had grown attached to were destined to fall by the wayside? It seemed as though there was some sort of curse hovering around him, and each time he recovered, Cyrus was struck down once more. He needed to find his inner strength. He needed to borrow a page from his attackers and to become fierce. He wanted to be nimble like Jana, or swift like Pandora. But how could he do that now, after so much failure? He was a bumbling idiot in comparison to the two of them, and he loathed the idea of violence.

But an anger stirred with Cyrus Malloc. He could feel a fire inside of his chest as he swept through the wet sand toward Pandora. “You are… animals!” Cyrus was shocked at himself as he felt the stirring grow. They were animals, they were baseless, and they were killing his friend. They were killing him because that was what they had to do. They were killing him because he was strong, because he had proven himself so powerful against them the day before. If only Cyrus could have shielded Pandora from this—no, no it wasn’t time for him to drift into would-haves and should-haves. No, now was the time to stand and fight. It was the time for him to lay his harpoon into flesh and to feel the twisted metal strike bone. It was time for him to shank, to plow deeply into Walker Liggins’ body like he cut into the metal he welded back home. There was no time to think, because that was what ruined Cyrus each time. It was time to act. He thought too much of despair and death, of happiness and hope, of everything to ever be effective. He was stepping past and over all of this, and thinking only of how much he wanted his harpoon to land right in Walker’s neck.

[Cyrus Malloc jabs his Harpoon at Walker]
[dice=200+3000]

[3045-- stabbed in stomach 9.5 damage]

Cyrus could feel the Harpoon go into Walker and he sneered. "That's one's for Nonnie!" He grit his teeth as he pulled out the Harpoon and stood his ground next to Pandora. He turned to his friend and was once again at his back. He knew it was silly but his heart raced and he could feel the adrenaline pumping--- perhaps this is what Pandora had been talking about before? It didn't matter now, he wanted to let his friend know, to give him hope. "I'm not leaving here without you."

[/size][rand=220669117057695985870297036599368706043102080002435541573143564165]

Last Edit: Jun 23, 2012 12:16:32 GMT -5 by cyrus

gxk
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When in doubt flail it out

Project X (Day 4) Jun 23, 2012 16:51:33 GMT -5

Quote

Post by gxk on Jun 23, 2012 16:51:33 GMT -5

Her blade made contact with the side of Walker’s head, and continued to make its way down until his ear was sliced clean off. A small gasp came from her lips. The shock was quickly replaced by a sense of triumph. Jana Hale had killed a mutt with nothing but a knife, and now chopped a boy’s ear off. These Games weren’t over for her quite yet. A quick glance to her left showed Cyrus picking up what seemed to be eggs of some sort. Turtle eggs maybe? Jana had never actually seen a really life turtle. But apparently they saw them in District Four fairly commonly. It would make sense. The fishing District had a beautiful location right on the cost of Panem, still Jana wouldn’t trade anything for the forests of Seven.

The sand stretched farther than Jana could see. It was like a desert, only with ocean everywhere around. Honestly the lack of cover made her uneasy. Even the cornucopia had provided some protection. The heat bothered her. Back home the shade of the trees and northern location kept it much cooler. The wounds on her back and arm still hurt. The cheap patch up job she did, did little other than keep her from bleeding out. Growling she clutched her back. Damn that fucking cat. It had to go and rip her up. Oh well, it got what it deserved, a nice knife to the eye. The attacks kept coming, four in a row. Miserable bastards weren’t giving anytime for recovery or even thinking about what to do next. Jana hissed, raising her knife. ”Enough already! What the hell is wrong with you?”

This wasn't a fair fight in Jana's mind. Four on three, the other four had entered the battle in better shape than their group of three. But now things were a little more even. The boy she had attacked was now deaf, and Cyrus and Pan landed attacks on him. His condition was bleak. Even if he survived this fight he wouldn't last much longer in these Games. His life would come to a close just like twenty-three others. From her short time with this group Jana had instantly picked up their dislike toward this other alliance. Something about Nonnie? She wasn't sure. The girl was one of the other tributes. They must have been traveling together before she was killed. How was she killed? Not that it mattered the exact details of her life's end. No ended here could be a kind one. Eye Walker, Jana felt a predatory sense coming over her. He was weak, this wouldn't last much long. A firm two handed slash was Jana’s choice of attack, she wasn't holding back anything. If it meant Pan would live and this boy would die, then she was willing to fight with full strengt.

[attacks Walker]

[dice=200+2000]

Shallow Cut on Right Calf -- 3.5 damage

[rand=320410372456535706731987860985177222960488870741257510739378631]

Last Edit: Jun 23, 2012 16:52:32 GMT -5 by gxk

rook
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who needs another thing to be sad about?

Project X (Day 4) Jun 23, 2012 17:12:09 GMT -5

Quote

Post by rook on Jun 23, 2012 17:12:09 GMT -5

p a n d o r a + w o o d a r d s

_{the businessmen drink my blood
like the kids in art school said they would
well i guess i‘ll just begin again
you say can we still be friends}

[/sub][/color]

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

_{The golden brown sand is still specked with the unforgiving rain that came before. My blood polka dots around my severed finger, which lies motionless in the grain. My left hand is tucked under my right armpit as I try to apply pressure and wield my sword simultaneously. The pain is searing and sharp, throbs of agony that pulsate up my arm. The intense pain eliminates the gash on my leg, the cut on my brow, the wound on my arm, for this is a different pain, a new pain.

My face is an expression of inward concentration, my mind explores this agony with painful curiosity. I stand limp, broken. A scarecrow in the wind, ragged and word, glittered with red pearls that drop silently to the ground. This is pain. This inevitable end… I hear my own cannon being prepared. I seem my face projected into the night’s sky. I see the look of horror on Destiny’s face. I see my death.

My hollow face, scarred with Walker’s strike from yesterday, strays to Cyrus. Cyrus who I stood by the the bitter end. Cyrus who made me realize that I am not a bad person, I am just surviving. The ragged beginnings of stubble that form a light beard make me look old, but my features twist into a child-like frown, an upset kid, grumpy and stubborn.

"Run" Is the simple syllable I utter. Because I’m already dead. Because there’s no hope for me. Because Cyrus and Fawn still have a chance… And it’s in this moment that I realize I will die so they can live. They're not going, I glare at them. They need to go, this is their window. I'm buying them time to survive.
"Well… Go on then… RUN!!"}

[/color] I shout, my voice a command, my face almost a smile. I know Cyrus will refuse to leave me, but he doesn’t have a choice. He stays, he dies.
"RUN-FOR-YOUR-LIFE!!"[/color] I say with intentional pausing and emphasis.

Run fast, get the remains of your pathetic lives away from me… I want to dance with the Careers one last time, a duel to the death. I will take it all, because I can… Because I am ready… And I will die proud, strong and brave… Pandora Woodards, The Warrior…

In this spark of insanity, everything makes sense. I turn, not wanting to see Cyrus or Jana anymore… My fight is with Elon, Walker, Mahlah and Jae… The demons to my eyes, but children in reality. Children like me, desperate to survive. I don’t hate them, I don’t blame them… I only envy them. Envy their strategy and position… Envy their chances against mine… How I was so bad at making allies that I had to rely on Cyrus to find me scraping for survival in the jungle, so hurt and broken from the Bloodbath. I always thought my cockiness would make me dangerous, but it only made me enemies… In the end, that’s what led to this…

I limp forwards, growling up a mixture of phlegm and blood before spitting it at my feet. My eye twitches under the pain my cheek is in, my arm recoiled at the lost finger and the cut open bicep. My good arm holds my sword, which despite all this chaos has remained as perfect as I found it, glinting in the sunlight. Forwards, left foot, right foot. They can only watch as I walk into my death, all of them.

But my final stand will not be a beg for mercy, it will be a signal. A signal that Pandora never gave up, he was never a coward. I am not scared of death, I am only sorry that my end is here.
"Is that it…?" I ask, a shaky laugh is all I can manage to mock them with, "Is that IT?!" I cough blood again, keeling over slightly before wiping my mouth with my forearm. Blood stains my blindingly white t-shirt. My blue sailor's hat, already lopsided, falls off my head completely.
"I’m disappointed…" I say, still limping closer.

Come at me again… I’m ready…

For once, I’ve made the right decision. Pandora Woodards smiles as he charges forwards one last time.

[[Attacks Walker, Rapier]]
[dice=200+1000]
[[Deep Gash on Left Calf -- 8.0 damage]]
[[Blades 1.0]]

My Blade strikes Walker's leg, a deep cut that sears across the Career. It's a blow that will end him, a blow to cripple the toughest of tributes. It's a message. To Elon. To Jae. To Mahlah.

I will kill, no matter how broken I am.

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

_{narrative
thoughts
persona speech
speech of others

notes Ohmy.
theme “Ready to Start” Arcade Fire.}[/color][rand=70048818958225126175853834962169617225978113664532312766246725766]

Last Edit: Jun 23, 2012 17:15:58 GMT -5 by rook

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] Retired Staff 6,346 POSTS Pronouns: He/Him last seen Nov 17, 2023 15:15:56 GMT -5 cozy, queer af	Project X (Day 4) Jun 23, 2012 17:23:54 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] on Jun 23, 2012 17:23:54 GMT -5 This is a filler because I can. [Attacks Pan] [dice=200+2000] Miss [rand=17481643317235485919823343673161483897082793987726348622884223857]
	Last Edit: Jun 23, 2012 17:24:57 GMT -5 by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] warehouse

sbeeg
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Project X (Day 4) Jun 23, 2012 17:53:14 GMT -5

Quote

Post by sbeeg on Jun 23, 2012 17:53:14 GMT -5

Mahlah Shea

The girl from Three had seen many people die. She had even killed a tribute herself, however this was something she could not handle. Through the duration of the Games Mahlah had been so determined on protecting Elon. Her other brothers seemed so strong and powerful. Elon and herself were the only ones that needed protecting- needed a hand to hold on the long walks through the Arena. The funny thing was, she had never even been that close to Walker Liggens. She never had any strong emotions for him, for his safety. He was older and solid he couldn't die.

Yet there he was. A bloody corpse on the ground. Mahlah's grip on her switchblade so tight her fingers started to cramp. She did not care. Mahlah Shea did not care about anything at the moment besides her brothers.

They're only mortal. They can die. They will die one day. Jae, Elon and herself will fall sooner or later. The realization hit her like the sound of Walker's cannon firing into the air.

They were not getting away that easy. No one murders one of Mahlah Shea's brothers and just walks away. Tears were welling up in her eyes as her sadness, anger and frustration built up inside her small frame. Her eyes, ringed with red, flicked up to the face of Walker's killer. Pandora. Like the box. The box filled with all the evils of the world. That's all this boy was- a container for death, blood and all the things that had made Mahlah scream and kick and sob about. He would slaughter all of them if he got the chance.

She would not give him that chance.

[Attacks Pan with switchblade (knife)]
[dice=200+2000]
[Miss -- 0.0]

She missed. Her body went too far to the right and she landed in the bloodied grass, skidding in the dirt. All she could do was lie there and cry.

I'm just a little girl she thought, her hand barely even holding onto the hilt of her knife. I'm useless. I'm dead.

That's all Mahlah would ever be. Dead. Like Ailia, Mel, Luyu, Katie, Aenor, Cassandra, Seepie, Taylor, Killian, Noreen, Walker, Cyrus, Jana, Pandora, Jae, Elon- everyone. She was already dead.

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Last Edit: Jun 23, 2012 18:00:46 GMT -5 by sbeeg

garnet beauford d8 [earthling]
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cameron stood in line for an hour for a stupid ride for me <3 best <3

Project X (Day 4) Jun 23, 2012 18:36:07 GMT -5

Quote

Post by garnet beauford d8 [earthling] on Jun 23, 2012 18:36:07 GMT -5

This is my December, this is me alone, and I just wish that I didn't feel
Like there was something I missed

It's not that I haven't been paying attention to what's been going on, it's just that when I see Mr. Liggens' eyes start to fade, my world closes in. There's a darkness at the edges of my vision that has nothing to do with the pitter-patter of the rain. It's a tunnel to him, and all I can see is Mr. Woodard, all I can hear is Mr. Malloc calling us animals. But are we? And if we are, what is he?

"That's it," I manage a response, one that wants for more. But I know it's true, from all those videos, from the scissoring of my gut. Mr. Liggens is no more than one more spirit for this sandy grave. The tunneling blurs and it's the first time I've cried in the arena, but I doubt it will be the last. And even through the tears, I know this is not over. We are shocked, but we are animals. Instinct guides me, but there's no power in my blade, my arm, my broken heart.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I blather as I shadow Mahlah's movements, mechanically bringing the dagger up. The words mean almost nothing any more but they're all I've got in this suspended time.

I'm sorry, Mr. Liggens, my friend, my brother. I'm sorry Mr. Woodard, for what we've all brought ourselves here to do.

[[ Elon attacks Pandora; dagger ]]

[dice=200+2000]

[[ Miss -- 0.0 damage ]]

My dagger passed through rain drops only, shredding them instead of drawing blood. It is a relief. I can barely see at all as I sink into the dirty, damp sand. My dagger falls to my lap, and I want to be night - true night, endless night - more than I've ever wanted anything. I am tired, and hungry, and lost and there is nothing that I can do or say to bring Mr. Liggens back. I can't even bring myself to call for Mahlah; the vigil steals my voice.

banner credit: it's a love story
lyrics: linkin park my december

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Last Edit: Jun 24, 2012 12:49:20 GMT -5 by garnet beauford d8 [earthling]

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Post by Spesh on Jun 22, 2012 10:43:20 GMT -5

Post by garnet beauford d8 [earthling] on Jun 22, 2012 10:43:54 GMT -5

Post by cyrus on Jun 22, 2012 10:47:35 GMT -5

Post by gxk on Jun 22, 2012 10:53:59 GMT -5

Post by rook on Jun 22, 2012 11:15:06 GMT -5

Post by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] on Jun 22, 2012 14:39:53 GMT -5

Post by sbeeg on Jun 23, 2012 0:40:05 GMT -5

Post by Spesh on Jun 23, 2012 0:43:08 GMT -5

Post by garnet beauford d8 [earthling] on Jun 23, 2012 9:56:54 GMT -5

Post by cyrus on Jun 23, 2012 12:10:56 GMT -5

Post by gxk on Jun 23, 2012 16:51:33 GMT -5

Post by rook on Jun 23, 2012 17:12:09 GMT -5

Post by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] on Jun 23, 2012 17:23:54 GMT -5

Post by sbeeg on Jun 23, 2012 17:53:14 GMT -5

Post by garnet beauford d8 [earthling] on Jun 23, 2012 18:36:07 GMT -5

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