Before the Blood // [Tzipora]

Before the Blood // [Tzipora] May 29, 2012 22:59:50 GMT -5

Post by admin kay on May 29, 2012 22:59:50 GMT -5

oh now feel it comin' back again, like a rollin' thunder chasing the wind
forces pullin' from the center of the earth again, I can feel it.

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Another Reaping, another round of training, another Games. It's there, just outside of Mustang's reach, as he paces in the back of the Square, looking up at the screen whenever a new tidbit is released by the anchors. It's like clockwork; just as the crowd begins to lose interest in the same old rehashing of the tributes' histories, their strengths and weaknesses, they say something else starting with: and did you know... Everyone hold their breath, Mustang included, hungry for the information. And he's hungrier than most, because deep down, in a place he'll never admit to, he's glad it isn't him.

On a level closer to the surface he tells himself because he's not ready. He needs another year of training, surely, before he could face death head-on and be victorious. He yearns for the attention though, to have Caesar Flickerman go through every tiny detail of his life. And what would he say? That Mustang Galvez was a dedicated Career. That he never was late to a single training session. That he had a soft spot for swords. But there wouldn't be any talk about he was the greatest ever, nor any mention of a girlfriend. It was a sore subject. They might bring up Phena, and the thought irked him as he turned at the Square's corner and began to work his way back.

It was late, long past sunset, and the tributes had gone to bed. Anything revealed wouldn't be fresh. Still, he couldn't find the motivation to go home. School was all but canceled in District One during the Games; he didn't have any tests to study for, no homework to review. Not that he did an especially good job of that even when the Games were over. But there was just nothing else for a young Career to do. And he was tired of pacing.

So he began to scan the crowd. He told himself it wasn't to look for her, but it showed all over his face. The eagerness. The possibility. And out of the corner of his eye he saw someone familiar, someone whose name came to the forefront of his mind. But he didn't know her, not really. Being in a class together did not equal friendship. He'd learned that the hard way. And yet if he was really serious about avoiding Phena, it would be easier to talk to someone while they all waited for the next insight.

So Mustang fixed a quirked smile to his face, tucked one hand into his pleather pocket, and walked right up to Tzipora. "Gets real boring this time of night with no fighting going on, right? I wish they'd let them practice a little. Just for fun."

banner credit: kaytorade (this girl)
lyrics: live lightning crashes

Before the Blood // [Tzipora] May 30, 2012 1:27:57 GMT -5

Post by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] on May 30, 2012 1:27:57 GMT -5

The Soul selects her own Society --
Then -- shuts the Door --
To her divine Majority --
Present no more --

Unmoved -- she notes the Chariots -- pausing --
At her low Gate --
Unmoved -- an Emperor be kneeling
Upon her Mat --

I've known her -- from an ample nation --
Choose One --
Then -- close the Valves of her attention --
Like Stone --

- Emily Dickinson

Blood filled her mouth as she bit her tongue - a bad habit she acquired over the course of the Reaping. It felt so odd, having a tongue, when she would only use it to eat and never to speak. The entire day, standing among a crowd of District One citizens that trampled on her toes and babbled on and on about the Games, she wondered to herself.. What would I even say? She realized there wasn't an answer, so she took to watching the people. Sometimes she glanced at the screens, but other times she turned her eyes towards the crowd, her ears towards their conversations. She could stand beside a person for an hour and watch their every move and still go unnoticed - save for the horrific scar on her face.

But people were used to her by then. If they looked at her at all, it was to glare at, just like they did with all the other normal people - humanity at its finest. She wasn't news anymore, not a bit, and now she took up space and breathed their air and stood on their sidewalks, a small sculpture in the middle of a crowded hall merely existing to stand still and blend into the background.

What would I even say?

The thought infuriated her as the sun set and the crowd began to thin. She hadn't moved in at least a half an hour, and her feet were beginning to feel sore. She lifted one foot up, then the other, shaking out the stiffness as a face appeared in front of her, a face not scarred or blemished in any way.

"Gets real boring this time of night with no fighting going on, right? I wish they'd let them practice a little. Just for fun."

A false thought passed through her mind: Who is this boy? I don't know him.. but a second later she shook her head at herself in dissent, only slightly, because she did know him. She knew everybody, though she wasn't supposed to show that. What a lucky thing it was that she couldn't talk - she might let it slip that she watched them all like a fly on the wall, had nibbled away at their lives bit by bit and asked herself, every day, who they are. How odd.

And she knew him, of course, from school. Not well, for he was the Career type, and Career types liked to push her around. His comment puzzled her. Boring? What? Boredom didn't register much to her, all existence internalized and whatnot. She could not be bored, for she was positively alive with thoughts and feelings and people as months passed by.

He scared her, some, because of his Career nature. Having stood in the square for hours on end, however, he was the first to speak up and say anything to her. How could he be evil? He only made a harmless comment, and yet she itched to step back away from him. But she didn't; she only shook her head in disagreement.