61st Reaping [D4]

Lulu
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61st Reaping [D4] May 18, 2012 23:07:13 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Lulu on May 18, 2012 23:07:13 GMT -5

The escort of the district stepped out onto the stage, a smile plastered across his face as he stared into the cameras that surrounded it. It was time once again to choose two children to compete in the Hunger Games, and it was his job to do so.

"It is time," he said as he stood over the impatient people of the District, "To once again send two of our own children to the Capitol to compete in the Hunger Games. Let us begin the Reaping!"

He did not look to see the reaction of his district before reaching into the glass ball that held the names of the female children. "Ladies first," he announced, pulling out a slip of paper. He unfolded it and read out to the crowd, "Penelope Libertine!"

[/color] He then reached into the other ball. "Alto Vet!"

OOC- RPing is allowed. If you wish to volunteer, let the tribute post first either accepting or stepping down from their place for volunteers, and then post. If the tribute doesn't reply by Tuesday, May 22nd, a staff member will post saying that volunteering is open. Please do not post until you see this staff message. FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE.

Tributes, please do not make your acceptance or denial of your spot in character; instead, please leave an ooc note at the end of your post stating whether they accept or are stepping down for volunteers.

Also, and this is really important: If you have been selected as a tribute and plan on going into the arena, we HIGHLY SUGGEST you take some RP Tutoring lessons ASAP. It doesn't matter what level RPer you are; everyone can use a little help. RPing a tribute is a PRIVILEGE; if you're not going to put the time and effort into making your posts the best they can be then you can count yourself among the dead...-evil laugh- It's not a requirement, but please please please just consider the lessons. They'll help even the most advanced RPer. [/blockquote][/size][/justify]

Last Edit: May 18, 2012 23:37:53 GMT -5 by garnet beauford d8 [earthling]

{lulu's cast}

L△LIA
RP Tutor

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last seen Jun 24, 2019 15:25:10 GMT -5

BOOM SH△KALAKA

61st Reaping [D4] May 20, 2012 12:20:31 GMT -5

Quote

Post by L△LIA on May 20, 2012 12:20:31 GMT -5

( P E N E L O P E C A L Y P S O L I B E R T I N E )

I was looking for a breath of life
For a little touch of heavenly light
To get a dream of life again
A little vision of the sight at the end
But all the choirs in my head say no

"Penelope Libertine!" Familiar syllables crash over me in a wave of sound, transforming my own name into a riptide more deadly than any of my oceanic dreams. Determined to carry me away, each hiss and click of the mayor's voice threatens to tug me into oblivion — and I am going under. Beneath this pressure I am drowning backwards, struggling against the oppressive tidal-air streaming from his lungs. With saltwater wetting my cheeks, dripping down from my chin until the shameless droplets have begun to soak the fabric of my dress in an elaborate pattern of dread, my movements become sodden and difficult. Despite attempting to push my arms out or kick myself into forward motion with my feet, I find myself treading stillness. There is no bravery to be found in me after unexpectedly plunging into a moment like this. For several infinite seconds, I simply sway, my all too fragile body suspended in uselessness. Like the depths of the ocean, the Reaping is a force beyond my ability to fight.

But I would need one more touch
Another taste of heavenly rush
And I would need one more touch
Another taste of divine rush
And I believe, I believe it so

Then, everything is a rush. Hands become a current, the sacrificial encouragement of fingers and palms propelling me forward, whipping my head back against the sudden push of momentum until I am gasping at the sky, my lungs singing out a strangled song of desperation to the uncaring clouds above. The sky is a cruel kind of ocean, distant and detached from me. It cares not for my imminent death or how in a few days time I will be baptized and reborn in a sea of blood. Already I can feel the tide of brutality rising up in pursuit of me, devouring the ground behind me with a sticky tongue that, today, only speaks the awful language of my name. Panic snatches my heart up in its mighty fist and squeezes it to the brink of bursting. I might die from the pressure. I might die right here. I will die at the hands of children. If not these hands then —

Whose side am I on?
Whose side am I?
Whose side am I on?
Whose side am I?

"Ursula!" My sister's name screeches out my throat in a primal scream, high pitched and crackling with frenzied desperation as I twist and attempt to hurl my body in her too-far direction. The crowd is sweeping me away in a roaring crush of adrenaline and I am clawing against it, taking petty swipes at the arms and faces of those surrounding me as I wail into the distance. "Let's make a deal!" I can hear a demented sort of smirk in the reaction of the crowd, as though my resistance is merely proof of the fight within me. There is a measure of approval for my attempts to rip and tear apart the bodies of everyone that might hold me back from my newfound mission. Ursula will save my unfortunate soul. It's what she does. I will grovel at her feet, pressing my forehead to her toes as I beg. "They're going to kill me, Ursula, they're going to kill me until I'm just another ghost in Learna's head..." My pleading is wracked with hyperventilating sobs, chopping my words up with incoherency, but she has always been fluent in the language of desperation and I know each slip of sound from my lips will find her and, like always, she will say: They can kill me instead of you, if you want. I will reply with every yes I have ever held within me. Yes, I will pay any price, my dearest of sisters. Please, Ursula, please. "I want to make a deal!"

And the feel of it rushes through me
From my heart down to my legs
And although I was losing my mind
It was a call that was so sublime
But the room is too quiet

Heaving with untamable fear, I am carried to the deadly shore of the stage and find myself balancing precariously atop it, gazing into an undulating sea of shark tooth smiles. The realization begins sinking in that I possess nothing of enough worth to pay Ursula the price for this kind of deal. How much do you think your life is worth, my dear, sweet, Penelope? It's as though I can hear her voice reaching out to me, slipping into my consciousness as the watery blue of our matching eyes meet from opposing sides of the crowd. Our thoughts are tossing back and forth between one another with the same futility as an SOS entrusted to a bottle bobbing hopelessly across the waves in search of salvation for a sinking sailor. I know exactly what my life is worth. The answer busies itself stitching stones into my pockets, even as my breathless lips continue their anguished murmur of "Save me, save me, save me —" with the fading ripples of my voice, so much the opposite of the swell of sound that has doomed me today. I know my life isn't worth enough.

And if you are gone
I will not be long
Be long
Be long
Be long

( OOC — I accept Penelope Libertine's position as Tribute. ~~FML. D: </3~~ )

Last Edit: May 23, 2012 19:31:48 GMT -5 by L△LIA

( C H A R A C T E R S )

brandonious Seam Resident 46 POSTS last seen Dec 1, 2012 20:43:12 GMT -5 BOOM!	61st Reaping [D4] May 21, 2012 14:43:13 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by brandonious on May 21, 2012 14:43:13 GMT -5 Ooc: Sadly, Alto must decline. :/
	-Griffin Keen- -Gavin Corlieon -Alto Vet-

chelsey
District Mayor

[M:-650]

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queen of inactivity

61st Reaping [D4] May 21, 2012 19:33:37 GMT -5

Quote

Post by chelsey on May 21, 2012 19:33:37 GMT -5

ursula libertine.

Once I wanted to be the greatest
No wind or waterfall could stall me
And then came the rush of the flood
The stars at night turned deep to dust

”Ursula!”

And just like that, I am treading in deep, deep waters. The thin ice I trek upon cracks beneath me and the dark ocean underneath is revealed - it swallows me whole - and I can feel my own desperate fears seize my black heart as the current washes over my face, arms, legs, body until I am no more than another one of it’s waves moving within it. The uncertainty of the tide, of the never ending rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall, fall, fall - of the instability of the exposed sea. Will I become nothing more than the fragments of the ocean? Will I become nothing more than the shadows against the rocks? Will I become nothing more than the fall after the rise? No, not me. It is not me who will perish in the icy water’s grip, it is not me who will be confined to the clutches of the never ending seas, it is not me who’ll drown in the storm of someone else’s heart. It’s not me, it’s not me, it’s not me.

But Penelope.

”Let’s make a deal!”

I've made deals my entire life. It’s what I do, it’s what I live for, to help poor unfortunate souls just like yourself.

[/s][/i] My destiny wraps around the process of deal making, of eradicating the chaos of someone’s life - only to replace it with my own. Because, the ocean does not threaten me, and I will never peril in it. I am the ocean, I am the one who threatens others, I am the one who causes the destruction in another’s soul, I am the one who’ll drown my own sister to her certain death.

”They’re going to kill me, Ursula, they’re going to kill me until I’m just another ghost in Learna’s head.”

Her words anchor themselves in the pit of my stomach, churning and churning and churning, until I feel the waves splash against the walls of my already hollowed heart, until I feel the waters beg for an entrance into my dimming conscience, until I feel the flood of emotions fill me until I’m battling a war between myself and my own guilt. They’re going to kill me, Penelope says. And - for once - my sister is right. They’re going to kill her.

The desperation in her voice does not fail to tug at my heart ~~as if I had one.~~ This is what I’m made for, isn’t it? This is what I’m destined to do? I live for helping poor, unfortunate souls. I’ve never failed to do so before.

So why now?

”I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, Pen.” The apologies stream out of my barely parted mouth between my ragged breaths, over and over and over again until they become only one word. ”I’msorry, I’msorry, I’msorry.”

”I want to make a deal!” She begs again - on her knees - begging and begging and begging until her voice drones on into a holy mantra that tacks itself to the roots of my brain.

I feel the glare of cameras and the heat of other's stares, flushing themselves into my parched skin. My knees are shaking underneath the fabric of my loose dress, and sweat dribbles down my hairline. I'm barely aware of the fact that my hands are forcing Penelope up, that my arms are pushing her away, that my lips are saying, "Go, Pen, go. It's time to go." I'm sending my own sister to her death sentence. "Go, Penelope."

Walls of oceans and seas and lakes and rivers run between us, shake our fragile states until we are no longer what we were this morning. I can feel myself crumbling, feel myself breaking apart, feel the dark oceans within me evaporate into an empty desert. Penelope is tiny on the stage - a speck of dust under the spectacles of a dictator’s eye. My gaze meets hers, and choruses of her pleas echo between us, her agonizing thoughts grasping my own. Save me, save me, save me, save me, save me.

How much do you think your life is worth, my dear, sweet Penelope?
[/justify][/blockquote]

ooc -- whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhyWHYYY PENELOPEEE.

[/size]

"Isn't this the point of being young?"

^ bless avalon's soul ^

Lulu Retired Staff [M:2982250] 3,114 POSTS last seen Nov 24, 2023 13:45:22 GMT -5	61st Reaping [D4] May 22, 2012 15:19:54 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Lulu on May 22, 2012 15:19:54 GMT -5 Volunteering for the d4m spot is now open. [/size]
	Last Edit: May 22, 2012 15:20:44 GMT -5 by Lulu {lulu's cast}

wimdy
Capitol Resident

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Pronouns: she/her
last seen Feb 14, 2021 19:20:55 GMT -5

(While On a Horse) I Met a Hot Girl Who Reminded Me of a Plant

61st Reaping [D4] May 22, 2012 15:20:06 GMT -5

Quote

Post by wimdy on May 22, 2012 15:20:06 GMT -5

sunlight hits my face
through the little holes
fluorescent daylight
headaches from the cold
can't escape the phone

There's always been a fear within me when it comes to Reaping days. There's been a cold film of uncertainty flooding my senses. Each year could mark the end of our family as we know it. With each year comes another chance that any of us would be ripped away. All four of us are eligible. Our rock Jude could be ripped away; our sanity keeper Nino could be ripped away; our fire Noah could be ripped away; or me. I could be taken from them. The only upside to my Reaping would be the chance to get away, even for only a short amount of time before the inevitable would happen. No, I wouldn't want to be there, even should the odds be ever in my favor. Every year, the likelihood increases that our family could lose a very important component. By the time that the Reaping finally comes around, I'm so close to the edge of sanity that I almost expect myself to fall over every single time. I don't know if I can save myself from falling anymore.

My suit feels scratchier today than ever. The woven fabric rubs at my skin uncomfortably, even through my dress shirt. We Ripleys do not go out without style. We're dressed to ~~as close to~~ the nines as we can afford on our meager salaries combined. Honestly, we just wear the clothes we pilfer from bodies. They're usually the best a family can afford and the easiest to get. Grave-robbing is second nature by this point. The four of us split into our respect age groups, Noah saluting smugly at us as we depart. It's his own way of coping with the stress, I suppose. Jude is no good at hiding it at all. His lip is torn through and his eyes are red, no doubt up worrying all night for us. Nino simply isn't cracking jokes. And me? I smile. There's nothing more I can do.

and get out...

The ceremony goes as usual, boring and draw out for the Capitol's own amusement at our complacency and distress. The escort was dressed to impress, overly colored and lavishly adorned as always. Nothing was different. The Reapings and the Games would always be as they were. It's a precise formula, one created to entertain and foster emotion simultaneously. Why fix what is not broken? His hand drops, swirling in the bowl quickly before plucking out a slip of paper.

"Penelope Libertine! Alto Vet!

Penelope Libertine. Penelope Libertine. I've never taken the Libertines into account in our family, not when it had come to the Reaping. The Ripleys were always my first priority, but Penelope... She's grace incarnate. She's one of the most beautiful people I know, spirit and body. Most importantly, she has a family who needs her, including the Ripley boys. Pen may be strong, but she's not strong enough to make it back, not without us beside her. I do the only thing that has ever seemed right in my life. I have found a way out, no matter whether it be something I have dreaded and feared my whole life. Suddenly, I am not the important one. She is.

"I volunteer! Penelope, wait! I volunteer!"

Belatedly, while walking towards the stage, towards Penelope and the ever smiling escort, I realize something. Jude and Nino and Noah are going to kill me before I even reach the Capitol.

when your soul is stirring
eyes are open
everything will change
if you wait
for the sound

(Fitz Ripley volunteers as District 4 Male Tribute.)

[/size]

Song: Get Out
Artist: Alpha Rev

Last Edit: May 22, 2012 17:08:33 GMT -5 by wimdy

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61st Reaping [D4] May 22, 2012 15:20:53 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Deleted on May 22, 2012 15:20:53 GMT -5

Instead of a man of peace and love, I have become a man of violence and revenge. Hiawatha

The sun this morning was bright, lighting the glimmer of hope in my heart that I might be reaped this year. This is my year, this is my chance, I’m ready this time, ready to step up to the plate and hold my own. Just don’t call Kalani’s name. Anything else was fine. I know my parent’s were worried for both of us, but more Kalani because she couldn’t handle it. She would probably die before the games even started. She was too fragile to handle that kind of death penalty. I couldn’t bear to even watch it if she was reaped, because she is my little sister, and I love he with a special brotherly love.

Last year had been my last reaping, and I remembered it like it was yesterday afternoon. The day had been just like today, warm and bright, and I was excited beyond belief. I had almost skipped there. Ironic huh? Kalani wasn’t eligible, so I wasn’t worried about her. I was worried about my name being in there and my chance to go have some fun. This is what I had been training for and it all depended on that day. I had watched the female tribute walk up to the podium with tears in her eyes.

I watched in agony for her, almost seeing my sister in her place. But it wasn’t her, and hopefully it would never be her. Hopefully, my name would be called, and hopefully it would be that day last year, but it didn’t happen. Some undeserving person received the owner of dying for the district. I would fight to the death, and give my life to honor my district. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the courage in my heart that thrusts me forward. I knew Kalani couldn’t kill, but I sure as heck could. All these thoughts ran through my mind, but it was over in a flash, and there was no turning back or rewinding time now.

We are calling to you
Come away little light
Come away to the darkness
In the shade of the night we’ll come looking for you

That year had been filled with a broken heart and even harder training. Every day, hours of training put in for that one day once a year. The turn of the year happened in a flash, and I wasn’t quite ready when the reaping came around. For once in my life, I didn’t know if I was ready, but I headed on with an open mind. The day got closer and closer, and I forgot about not being ready and now my mind was set on winning, but first of all getting in. The days leading up had been torture, and every day made the reaping seem further and further away. Finally the day had arrived, and I didn’t sleep last night. I am ready, so hit me with your best shot.

The girl’s name had been called, and thankfully it wasn’t Kalani’s. She had accepted her spot and I knew Kalani was in the clear. Then the moment of truth arrived. The boy’s name was about to be called, and the words that came out were not what I hoped. “Alto Vet.” Anger surged through me for a few moments until I saw him stepping off stage, and then reality hit me. He stepped down, and now I can have my shot. “I volunteer.”

I saw the shock in my parent’s eyes, and I knew I had succeeded. I grin stretched across my face as I took the what seemed like miles walk up onto the stage. “What is your name?” The announcer asked. “Skip Ronan.” It came out almost too perfectly out of my mouth. The moment of truth had come, and this time I had won. Look out world.

Come away to the darkness
To the ones appointed to see it through
We are calling for you
We are coming for you

~{{OCC: Skip Ronan volunteers as District Four Male Tribute}}~

Jack Lexington
Mentor

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On Vacation

61st Reaping [D4] May 22, 2012 15:22:28 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Jack Lexington on May 22, 2012 15:22:28 GMT -5

Ever since I returned to my girl and our or should I say her daughter my life has been turned upside down. At first I thought we could somehow overcome the years she has spent bringing her up alone and I could somehow sneak my way into their life again since I’ve at least provided the semen but oh boy, was I ever wrong. Not only did we simply collide in everything we did but also did my past catch up with me faster than I could hide.

My only option to evade the bookmakers goons and having my toe nails plucked out, one by one or being dumped into a lake with some heavy rocks on my feet was to run….far, far away. Out of all the places I could have chosen I was stupid enough to run home to my surrogates parents town because for some reason I figured they’d forgive me and help me out with the debt I’ve piled up. Unfortunately even they didn’t have enough tesserae nor did they feel so inclined to lend me only a few.

On top of that I was stupid enough to return around reaping day. It had totally escaped my mind that the reapings still concerned me, since I had been gone for so long, and that I’d get picked up by some peace keeper and shoved into the city square, if they’d pick me up drunk behind the library…don’t ask what or who I was doing there.

Boy did I ever sober up quickly in between all these shaking, worried kids, who were practically reeking with fear. Not me. I was still too drunk.

But here comes the worst of all decisions my alcohol clouded mind has come up with lately. When the tributes name, whatever it was, got called out and I caught a glimpse of said goons in the crowd, I knew nothing better than to raise my hand and shout out. “I volunteer, Nick Travis…me. I volunteer.”
I must have thought that it was a splendid way to escape a pitiful death….
Plus the crowd’s attention really egged me on. I was loving it…at least for a few moments.

OOC: Nick Travis volunteers)

Last Edit: May 22, 2012 15:24:45 GMT -5 by Jack Lexington

Nicanora Strong D2 - Matthew Dunham D2 - Torfin Forsberg D6 - Tyler Jameson D7 - Nick Travis D4 (wanderer) - Jack Lexington D10
www.hungergamesrpg.com/index.cgi?board=lowchar&action=display&thread=24108
hungergamesrpg.com/thread/68369/torfin-forsberg-d6-completed

L△LIA
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last seen Jun 24, 2019 15:25:10 GMT -5

BOOM SH△KALAKA

61st Reaping [D4] May 23, 2012 20:32:10 GMT -5

Quote

Post by L△LIA on May 23, 2012 20:32:10 GMT -5

( P E N E L O P E C A L Y P S O L I B E R T I N E )

Crown of leaves
High in the window on a cold morning
Young today, old as a railroad tomorrow
Days are just drops in the river to be lost always
Only you, only you, you know

I didn't know it before just now, but a person can be a prayer. After all the words within me have faded away, echoing the silent response to my pleas of "save me, save me, save me" until everything feels still and nonexistent — this is when I learn how much a person can be. In the deafening roar of fate that follows the reading of my name, hope seems to have leapt from my throat, taking wing into the open air where I could never so much as aspire to catch it. The entire world is ripping into me, pillaging my soul for its remaining worth, but the souls of the damned aren't worth much. Oh, no. This is what I discovered when the End turned to stare me down: exactly how inconsequential I am when it comes to a concept like value. A girl like me can beg and plead, but our words can't buy salvation. Something like that can't be bought or bartered for. And yet, somehow, his words sweep across the crowd to find me and: "Save me, save me, save me."

"I volunteer! Penelope, wait! I volunteer!" Fitz Ripley. He has always been a little boy to me, despite the lack of difference in our age. Each time I see him, some unexpected mothering instinct wells up to surpass my petulance and begins murmuring about how someone — maybe you, Penelope, you — should smooth down an awkward tuft of hair that's jutting out of place just above his left ear. That instinct is followed immediately by another, declaring that afterward I ought to smack him playfully in the arm, laughing with an arc of joy (the kind that says: this is a sound you gave me; my lungs weren't full of this undying exhilaration until I saw you) before running away at the kind of pace that would beg him more to follow than to fall behind. Rare are the days (but not nonexistent) when my impulses remember that I am just a girl and he is just a boy or how we don't have to be anything more than that if ever we wanted to be something else. Perhaps I am too young to be his mother and too distant for a sister, but with words like that escaping his mouth, there's nothing in the whole, wide everything that could convince me I'm anything less to Fitz Ripley.

Falling utterly still as the world spins on and forever on around us, I know he is not an answer to my pleading. Rather, he is someone who's willing to beg for me, when my voice — or worse, so much worse — is lost. So when he climbs those steps, coming closer to me in more ways than distance, I run to him, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his chest with a tear-christened mixture of every impulse I've ever felt. The mother in me won't allow me to thank him for this, just like the sister in me can't help being furious that he would dare to step onto this stage because of someone as useless as me. But the girl, the one that sometimes remembers how Ripley and Libertine don't sound anything alike, just wants to sob into him and never let go for fear that he might take it back and leave me alone again. I can't help there being a piece of me that is selfish enough to want him with me. He has made a promise here today and I will make him keep it. When I've lost all the hope in me, he has volunteered to be my living prayer. And, in a few short days, when I have lost all the life in me as well, he has volunteered to be something much more.

Years ago, birds of a feather would arrive nightly
Gone you know, held to another like clutched ivy
On the shore
Speak to the ocean and receive silence
Only you, only you, you know

Last Edit: May 23, 2012 20:33:19 GMT -5 by L△LIA

( C H A R A C T E R S )

killz4food
Tribute

[M:-1600]

352 POSTS
last seen May 4, 2015 20:25:08 GMT -5

Trying to make my comback

61st Reaping [D4] May 27, 2012 8:27:40 GMT -5

Quote

Post by killz4food on May 27, 2012 8:27:40 GMT -5

i1233.photobucket.com/albums/ff393/Wesley_Ellis/DamienwatersOfdistrict4.jpg [/img]

I figure it like this.

She loves me. My father doesn't. I love her. I don't love my father. This would be my chance to prove to the asshole of a father that goes around pretending like I mean something to him that I'm not his. I've been on my own for god knows how long. I want in for her, Frances. Not for my self. Not for my father. For Frances. I slip on the button up shirt that my father said I will need when I get reaped. I know I won't but what does it hurt to try. I know that I've never put enough tessera into the drawings, but does it matter?

If the fates really hated me that much, or really loved Frances, they would call my name. I slipped on my pants, and then my shoes. I straightened out my hair and gave the mirror my little 'this is me District 4' smile and slipped out of the house. I knew that my father was at the square. For once he left the house willingly, although he has to by law. I throw the thought aside as the breeze hits my face.

"It's time," I think to myself. I make my way to the square, looking for Frances as I make my way. I know she's going to be there, but I don't see her. I look at the stage and wait. And wait. And wait. I know I'm early because the whole district isn't there. After about half an hour, so I figure, the devil walks onto the stage and stands next to the fish bowls. He began to speak.

"It is time," he said as he stood high above the anxious people of District 4, "To once again send two of our own children to the Capitol to compete in the Hunger Games. Let us begin the Reaping!" And as tradition goes, he called "Ladies first," and drew the first name. My heart stopped slowly as he reached his hand in. What if it was Frances. What if she got dragged away. What if I was going to loose her forever right now. The name was called.

"Penelope Libertine!" He called out loud. And without waiting for a reaction he called the next one.
"Alto Vet!"

This was my chance. Alto didn't step up. Either he wasn't there or he was to in shock. This was my time to make Frances happy with that jewel she had her eye on for so long. It was my time to prove to my father that I didn't want anything to do with him. That I would live on my own for now. Without hesitation, I raised my hand and spoke in a deep, monotonous voice.

"I volunteer as tribute for District 4," I said as I made my way through the crowd.

"For Frances," I thought. I wanted to throw that into the sentence but I couldn't find the courage to. That would kill me a little more.

I said it again. "I, Damien Waters, volunteer as tribute for District 4." My heart stopped. It was on.

occ: Damien waters volunteers as district 4 tribute.

Tattletale
Retired Staff

[M:3040]

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hi um\????

61st Reaping [D4] Jul 27, 2012 11:01:58 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Tattletale on Jul 27, 2012 11:01:58 GMT -5

.// learna antiopa libertine

Tell me you feel nothing at all
Tell me your tears weren't worth it
Turn the light out, Turn the light out
I sit and watch your walls of blue
And you told me I felt beautiful

Whispers fill my head as soon as I'm half-awake in this world. They all come from the bodies long gone, now stored in the crevasse of my sanity, which was of course sold to the hands of the devil for the sake of satisfying the gut-wrenching yearning for what they have left behind. Today was no different, rather, it was multiplied to the umpteenth time, with hushed voices tickling my senses to life, for: "awaken, my love, for now my death has been written and done."

It turns into screams, and my own hoarse voice bounce back from the four walls of my room. My feet kicks the sheet away, away, then back into my arms to cradle and stuff in my mouth as to keep my parents (waking Father would be a miracle, but the sorrow binding my siblings and I was too much alike and powerful, perhaps enough to destroy whatever monstrosity he has engulfed himself in)

[/color] and the rest from waking up. Although I doubt that they are still within the premises of a peaceful slumber and am quite sure that shadows have made a home underneath their eyes, this was my own burden to carry, and not theirs. These were my scars to decorate my skin, not slash their own. These sheets were for me to shut myself mute, because these screams were for me to bear. In my selfish eyes (could I get anymore greedy with whatever I could find? Let it be a pearl or a porcupine, I'll take it either way), all had been devoured: the notches I mark in the woodwork, the footprints I make on the floor, and the pounding I do on my walls.[/color] The white fabrics were to remind me that no matter how many tearstains decorate them, water will wash them away and they were free. Free of whatever filth I thrust upon them, and free for me to do it again.[/color]

That was the problem with the word free. Like the very word, it itself is unbounded, and so it is fleeting. Penelope was free, and so the ocean claimed her, very much like how these ~~devils~~ saints were now inside of me.[/color] They took turns in eating each other, piece by piece, and now she was part of the sea, just like how I falsely consider myself to be a saint, too. And just like how I scream, she screams too.

"Ursula!" Her frantic cries for help were deafening, reaches all the way from the sixteens to the miniscule age of thirteens. Yet, her desperation was everywhere, felt by the pitying looks of the rest, and it was creeping up into my skin, only then I realize that I was trembling.

"Let's make a deal!" It only takes a sentence for me to realize who she was screaming to: my sea witch of a sister. My dear sweet sister who took life for favors, bottling them up in flasks ― but they had cracks and so it seeped slowly inside me―

The souls had formed thousands of hurricanes, each to their own, and made a devastating wreck in my head. Thoughts were upturned, barriers undone and whatever formality I had ceased to rubble. The ocean lends me some of itself, threatening to make a waterfall out of me but my hands too were stubborn and continuously wiped them away.

But why do you cry, dear?

Please, not now―[/color]

"They're going to kill me, Ursula―"

You already know what happens next...

I said―

"―they're going to kill me until I'm―"

No, please, no―

"―just another ghost in Learna's head..."

My throat locks itself to barricade a wail from battling a whale's, and my fingers claw at my neck, desperate to please the orders that echo. We need to make room, darling. Someone's coming.[/color] Penelope murmurs something, and although she is far away it comes rippling towards me, and soon the same bubbles from my lips. "Save me, save me, save me..."

It takes quite a lot of determination to tear away from her crumbling form, rocks now growing weary from innumerable lifetimes of temptation, promises of self-resistance for sweet paradise by its liquid lover. Through blurred eyes I search the crowd for Ursula, tediously treading unknown faces for once that could have saved us all.

Where are you?
[/justify][/color]

Turn the light out, Turn the light out
But if it can't go on,
Well then I can't go on
And if I can't go on
Turn the light out

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OOC -- [ Absolutely late, but I felt as if I needed to post Learna's reaction to this. ~~JB would soon follow,~~ and of course the Death!reaction thread </3 ]

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Last Edit: Aug 4, 2012 2:29:23 GMT -5 by Tattletale

I. THE WILD YOUTH