Anything you can do, I can do better ~VT~[Charity]

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pthalorarity
Career Tribute

535 POSTS
last seen May 31, 2020 17:33:55 GMT -5

Anything you can do, I can do better ~VT~[Charity] May 3, 2012 16:49:39 GMT -5

Post by pthalorarity on May 3, 2012 16:49:39 GMT -5

in every loss, in every lie
in every truth that you'd deny
and each regret and each goodbye
was a mistake too great to hide

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For the first time since long before his Victory Tour, Julian actually felt rested. The last thing he remembered of the night before was his father and Glitch quietly discussing something while emptying a vial of some liquid into his tea. Whatever it had been had sweetened his tea quite a bit, but more importantly, after a few sips, Julian Bryze was out cold. His slumber was peaceful. There were no nightmares, if in fact he had any dreams at all. He couldn’t recall anything but serene darkness up until the moment his eyes lit up mid-morning.

He took in a deep breathe as he stretched out his arms and took in the view outside the bullet train’s window. The scene was quite breathtaking, with the expansive ocean that lined District Four on the horizon. This had been the District Julian was most anticipating visiting along his Tour. He had never seen an ocean in person before.

After a few moments he headed to the dining car where his Victory Tour team anxiously awaited him. His father stood up as he entered and rushed over to him, checking his forehead.

“How did you sleep?” he asked concernedly.

“The best I have all tour… what did you put in that tea?” Julian replied, furrowing his brow. The Bryzes had always maintained a strict no drug policy in their house. Sick or not, it didn’t do well for an athlete such as himself to have any unnatural chemicals coursing through their veins. It interfered with training.

“Sleeping Serum, dear,” Glitch said as she toyed with a small bottle of it between her fingers. “We didn’t want you collapsing again in District Four from exhaustion, no did we?”

Julian scowled, his cheeks burning hot with blush. His moments in District Five had certainly not been his most glorious, but his body could no longer function under the strain of constant wake and anxiety. He didn’t hold the scowl for long however, as he couldn’t deny that he was grateful for finally feeling an assemblage of strength once more. Once everyone got back to their brunch, Julian’s gaze lingered on Glitch a bit longer to watch for just where she placed that magical little vial.

After everyone was decidedly full, with the exception of Julian—his appetite had yet to return—the prep team and his stylist Cream ushered him back to the car that had taken the primary role of Julian’s extensive closet. His ensemble today was as usual, black and silver and was finished off with a dark, shimmering hat that was reminiscent of a dorsal fin. His eyes were lined with reds while his upper lids were decorated with a shimmery shadow palette. He looked like some creepy, deadly land-shark.

He was told that District Four was nearly always warm, even in the winter, when he questioned about this number’s lack of sleeves. That would be a nice change; the last several Districts had been freezing. What he didn’t appreciate was the silver, shimmery body paint that was being applied to his bare skin. That was still cold, and despite what his prep team said as they showed him the final look in the overly large, ornate mirror, he didn’t see himself as menacing… more like an evil mermaid.

The Presentation Ceremony went just as most of the others had, though District Four’s was notably livelier. This was the first District thus far that actually celebrated Career tributes. Despite Julian having openly gunned for their female tribute and even landing a hit on her before he was forced to retreat from the bloodbath, they were quite welcoming. He received the most beautiful gifts from this District, and probably due to his rejuvenation from the sleeping serum, he was notably livelier in return.

Once the televised portion of the even concluded, Julian was escorted to one of the Career facilities nearby the Justice Building where he was to address some of the potential tributes. Any joy he had built up from the grandeur of the ceremony was quickly beginning to fade at this thought. This had not been a part of his schedule. He didn’t want to tell them to go into the arena, and he certainly didn’t want to share with several strangers just what it had been like. It was bad enough that he was forced to now train potential children in Two, but this… Well, it had to be done. It was just another punishment in his eternal sentence of hell. He fortified his icy walls and put on his best cruel look as he entered the large room.

A large man with dark, scaly skin from seeing way too much sun, stepped forward and shook Julian’s hand before turning back and presenting him to the group of teens before him. “Look alive, wannabes. I give you Julian Bryze, a true Career!” Julian stood there, cold and glaring as applause was given. In his childhood he had often imagined moments like this, where he could bask in glory and envy on his Victory Tour, but it ended up being more of a nightmare than a dream. That’s all that living in wake was these days: a nightmare. He found himself yearning for that glorious sleep serum again when he realized he was being spoken to.

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laphae8ash

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Anything you can do, I can do better ~VT~[Charity] May 3, 2012 22:50:01 GMT -5

Post by laphae8ash on May 3, 2012 22:50:01 GMT -5

The Victory Tours are such a bittersweet day for me. Getting up, getting dressed in one of my best outfits, cheering the person that should be me...this year has to be my year. It just has to. This year is no different, Julian Bryze is coming to town to let us show him with the praise that should be mine. Yay. Just the thought of it causes my eyes to roll to the point I'm sure they're going to get stuck in the back of my head.

Its not that I don't like the kid, I don't even know him. I just hate that every year I train harder and harder, and for what, nothing. Every year I get passed up for a person who can't hold their own in the arena. Its infuriating to say the least. Of course my parents are "glad" that I never go in. Its not like we need the money or the house, we've got just about everything we could need, but I wanted more. I wanted people to look at me with that admiration founded of fear. Too feel important and special, to be anything more than just a girl from District 4.

So today was the same, selecting a simple sea foam green sundress and brown strappy sandals I figured would be good enough I dressed myself. I had Training after wards so I wasn't in the mood to break out the good stuff. Julian was supposed to be talking at the center today. Though I really didn't care what he had to say. Its not like he could talk my way into the games. Brushing out my waist length hair I tossed in a braid to make it a bit more festive and mom actually let me borrow a touch of eyeliner and mascara. I hate make up, it makes me feel overdone...fake. I don't know how the Victors do it, or even those crazy folks in the Capitol. Julian was no exception, the only time I've seen him look "natural" was during the Games. Every other time he's way too over styled for my taste.

Giving myself a once over in the full length mirror in the hall I guess it will do. My height makes every dress seem so much shorter than what it really is, which drives my dad bonkers. Being a few inches shy of six feet is something I enjoy. Looking down on people, making them feel just how better I am than them, its something that I can't even describe. I know I should be nicer, but until I get what I want its hard to let go of it. Mom steps out of the kitchen, dressed in her best and Dad is in the living room reading the books from last week. I love those two, but they really need to loosen up a bit.

"Couldn't you have worn something a bit nicer?" Mom says, her eyes scanning me up and down. Once again my eyes roll so far back I swear I see my brain. Its not like I look sloppy or unkempt. I'd never go out in public like that, but I am a little bit relaxed. I figure its warm out, I want to be comfortable, plus its not like I'm going to try to seduce Julian. Gross!! My face scrunches up at the thought and my Dad chuckles at me.

We settle in for the televised portion of the interview and Julian looks more exuberant than I remember him. There's a glow in his eyes that I hadn't seen before. Not even before the Games. It was odd...but not as odd as the getup he has on. He looks like he's supposed be a sparkly gnome? I can't figure out the hat, the shimmering, its just so garish and...My mouth drops open and the laughter starts spilling out. I shove my hand against my mouth trying to stop it but I can't. My parents look at me like I'm losing my mind but at this point I can't even breathe I'm laughing so hard. "Daddy he's supposed to be a SHARK!" the words choked out between chuckles. Even my parents begin to laugh then.

Who would have even thought of something like that! Seriously are the people from the Capitol that clueless, that crazy? Ohhh I hope he doesn't wear that to center! If he did I'd never be able to take him seriously. I don't care if he's a victor or not, he looks like a someone dipped him in glitter and told him to be mean. With his fair features, its hard to remember he's already killed people. Several people...He just looks so ridiculous.

After our laughter calms down my dad claps his hands saying,"Come on ladies, lets head out. Can't be late." He takes Mom's hand as we walk out the door. Its a beautiful day outside and I feel the sun beating down on my skin as we head through the town square. The best part of my District is the fact its almost always beautiful out with the shore so close by. I nearly forgot what the plan of the day is as I walk and enjoy the rays.

We step up to the door of the Center and Dad kisses my cheek as Mom runs down the do's and don'ts. Shaking my head I send them off with a hug and I walk into take my seat. Right in the front. I'll change after the speech when I know we'll have to show off our skills, but for now I want to make sure I get the closest spot. Quickly the floor fills as my other peers join in, the noise of their chatter ringing through the room. Me, I nod hi to a few of my friends but I keep my eyes fixed on the stage.

Soon the coach comes and steps on stage quieting everyone down. I smiles politely as he say “Look alive, wannabes. I give you Julian Bryze, a true Career!” We all clap and a few of the boys cheer as we see Julian step on stage...still in that hideous get up. Before I know it I'm doubling over in laughter. I can't help it, its just so crazy that they would put him in something like that. I try desperately to stifle myself before people catch me, the cheers covering it up. But as we all sit down I can't totally stop. The giggles keep slipping out and my friends look at me like I'm going crazy. I finally press my lips together and stare up at the stage, only to be met by Julian's icy state.

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pthalorarity
Career Tribute

535 POSTS
last seen May 31, 2020 17:33:55 GMT -5

Anything you can do, I can do better ~VT~[Charity] May 8, 2012 2:46:23 GMT -5

Post by pthalorarity on May 8, 2012 2:46:23 GMT -5

Julian maintained his cold, harsh expression as the room full of teenagers cheered for him. They were all fools, willing themselves into a life that only someone as cruel as himself deserved. Hell, perhaps some of them deserved it as well. It didn’t mean he wished it upon them though. As silence fell over the room of hopefuls, one voice continued to ring out. Julian’s ears perked as he picked up the giggles of a red head not too far from him. His lips pinched together as his icy stare fell upon her… a girl looking directly at him and laughing. Just what the hell did she find so funny?

That leathery skinned man continued to talk on about Julian for while, and to Julian’s horror, had several of his kills running on a large screen overhead while he analyzed them for the others. Apparently he had been a subject of much study for trainees this year in Four… his killing techniques, his stealth, the way he wielded his blade… He clenched his jaw and swallowed back the guilt that burned his throat. He fought to keep his eyes focused as he watched his own monstrous form slice open Eliana Ledessa’s chest in the sand. Blood splattered onto the cameras as she fell lifeless into the crimson particles.

This had certainly not what he had expected in agreeing to speak here today, and his stomach churned with a variety of emotions. He thought he might vomit, but his face remained stoic as ever. Serge Bryze patted him on the shoulder as he watched with a that’s my son expression of pride. Julian still wondered just how his father managed to live through the guilt. His kill list had been greater than Julian’s. How had he pushed that aside for the glory? Regardless, that was exactly what Julian needed to do now as the video finished and applause erupted once more. He folded his arms, giving the crowd a haughty, proud expression of his own. The Games may be over, but he still had to put on a show.

“So you all want to kill like a Bryze? You want to become a Victor?” Julian said loudly to the crowd with a signature sinister smile he had given so often to his victims in the Arena. There was a small array of weapons that had been laid out on a table behind him for demonstrative purposes. His fingers delicately flickered over several blades as their touch recalled familiarity. He decidedly picked up three small throwing knives and turned back to his current pupils.

Without warning, Julian’s eyes snapped to their vicious glare, locking upon the girl who had laughed at him. With three swift movements of his right arm, he hurled the knives directly at her. The first planted itself in her chair directly to the left of her ear, slicing several strands of hair and leaving them to fall to her legs. The second and third slammed on each side of her biceps, pinning her to her spot. “The secret to winning the Games is not just in how skilled you are, but how well you can put on a show.” He gave a triumphant, cruel smirk, as he looked the girl dead in the eyes, exuding his cold glare of dominance. The room began buzzing with murmurs and whispers before their head trainer led them in starting a round of applause.

Julian stalked forward to the girl he had just targeted, and likely embarrassed in front of all her friends. Well, no one got away with laughing at Julian Bryze… in fact, no one had ever dared too, so he had to teach her a lesson to make sure it never happened again. He placed one hand solidly on the back of her chair as he leaned into her ear. With his free hand he pulled out one of the knives beside her arm, ever so slightly letting the flat of the blade slide against her skin as he spoke quietly and coldly. “The next time you laugh at me will be the last time you have teeth.”

He pushed off of the chair and walked back to the stage where the head of the gym called for the careers in training to continue their workouts as per usual while Julian would come around to offer comment and suggestion. Julian took in a deep breathe through his nose. Sleeping serum or not, he was still exhausted from his weeks of sleep deprivation, and he didn’t want to be here as it was. However, as always, the show must go on.

Last Edit: May 8, 2012 2:56:53 GMT -5 by pthalorarity

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laphae8ash

guest

Anything you can do, I can do better ~VT~[Charity] May 9, 2012 0:38:28 GMT -5

Post by laphae8ash on May 9, 2012 0:38:28 GMT -5

I know I'm in for it when our eyes meet. Laughing at him is probably the worse thing I could've done but I couldn't help it. HE IS PAINTED SILVER! SILVER! AND HE HAS A FIN! I bite my lip as he paces the stage listening to coach talk and discuss his kills. We've seen them over and over, broken down the motions, the way his wrist moves...its all pounded into my head. So seeing him here looking like a fool is just too much. I finally get the giggles under control and focus on what is being said.

"“So you all want to kill like a Bryze? You want to become a Victor?” he asks as he surveys the weapons that have been left out so he can demonstrate with them. I knew he'd go for the knives, but before I can take my next breath one whizzes by my head severing off a few locks of my long hair, the next two pin me in my chair. Mother f-cker cut my hair. is the only thought in my mind. Its not the first time someone has thrown a knife at me. Probably won't be the last either, but no one touches my hair but me. My eyes flare as he continues his little speech about "putting on a show."

I don't care who he is. I don't care how deadly he can be, he is flesh and blood and human just like me. Anyone else would've been on the floor before they could get as close to me as he did. I have this thing about people in my personal space, but as his small frame moves closer and he leans in I get an odd quiver in my thighs. There was something about the glare in his eyes that made him seem taller, more powerful than his slight frame gave him and it seemed to awaken a strange yearning in me. His head moved in and I could feel his breath on my neck as the cold blade slide against me. It was almost too much to bare as even his threat sounded seductive to my ears.

Yet as he walked away I couldn't believe I was turned on by him. The thought nearly made me vomit. He wasn't anything special and he certainly didn't play on my team so there was no need to even give the feelings a second thought. He was just another obstacle to overcome. I stomped over to the stations waiting to figure out what I wanted to let my aggression out on. Knives would be too cliche considering his little performance. Sword was almost too easy for me anymore...but hand to hand melee, now that was a great way to blow off steam. Most girls in our class avoided it for fear of damaging their pretty faces, not me, there was nothing better than throwing a punch and feeling your fist connect with soft fleshy tissue.

Not even bothering to change out of my fluttery sundress I sat down and started to wrap my hands with the tape laid out. We couldn't hit each other, but our coaches were there for a bit of sparring and the younger trainers would come in for a match or two. Coach Osmond was sitting in the corner waiting for someone to come over. He was at least twice my weight and several inches bigger than me, but right now I don't give a rat ass. With the final bit of tape pressed down I give him a nod and he heads over with the punching gloves.

One.

One. Two.

One. One. Two.

We start the rhythm and I begin to loosen up. Over and over the standard moves we go over my punches progressively harder till I say "Can we just go at it. I'm tired of this fake bullsh-t. I just want to hit someone." Coach laughs and nods over one of the younger trainers and we circle each other. A smirk crosses my face. I've taken this guy down at least 10 times this month. He's a cake walk and if I don't at least break his nose ~~again~~ I'm going to be pissed.

Waiting for him to take the first swing I laugh again. "Come on Matt, you haven't beat me before, you're not going to beat me now. I'm even giving you the advantage of having me in a dress." I taunt. He dives in taking a swing and throwing himself off kilter as I swing back hitting him square in the ribs. God that felt good! This time I make the move and fake left and swing with my right laying a square knock across his jaw. The action seemed to anger him even more as Matt lunges for me and lands a blow on my right cheek. The fact he got to me sends me into a rage and I rush him the force of my hit taking him to the floor. I roll on the ground with him, the hem of my dress ripping as it catches under his body. Finally I pin him down and start pummeling his face. The bone in his nose crunches and I see blood come from a cut above his eye.

Coach Osmond comes over and wraps his arms around me pulling me back, my legs and arms still flailing while I'm yelling, he jokes "Another one goes to Ran. Whats that number 11 Matt?" He sets me in a chair as I wipe the blood off my fist along my tattered dress staring at Matt mopping up his own blood. Ruffling my hair he smiles "Good Job kid." as he walks off to the next station.

I hate when he calls me that. I f--king hate it. I hate when he touches my hair. My eyes wonder around the room, now noticing that my little show has caught quite a bit of attention. I know I'm ruthless, I know I'm angry and hateful, but seeing the mixed expressing on the adults faces makes me wonder why I do it. My eyes finally fall to Julian who has been traveling between stations, as coach gives me some ice for the forming bruise on my cheek, "Looks like I ruined my dress."

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Last Edit: May 9, 2012 0:49:50 GMT -5 by laphae8ash

pthalorarity
Career Tribute

535 POSTS
last seen May 31, 2020 17:33:55 GMT -5

Anything you can do, I can do better ~VT~[Charity] May 15, 2012 15:49:46 GMT -5

Post by pthalorarity on May 15, 2012 15:49:46 GMT -5

Julian paced himself to get around the room rather quickly. There were other places he would need to be very soon, and Glitch, his escort, had been tapping her watch impatiently for the last five minutes now. His father, his mentor, was thoroughly enjoying this time in the center however and was indeed in no rush. So Julian found himself somewhere in between haste and taking his time as he commented on teenagers various techniques.

While his father was a man of brute force, Julian’s fighting style was far more finessed and relied on his agility and skill with weaponry. He adjusted a few of the career potentials’ grip on their blades, told them at precisely which angle to slice for a clean kill, but in large part ignored those that had taken up the barbaric tactic of becoming a brawler.

Brawlers only had one purpose in the Games in Julian’s mind—to be used as a means to an end in a career pack and then be dealt with accordingly. They were rarely the brightest of tributes to be Reaped, though he would never have spoken this aloud to Midas. Midas was of course a brawler, his size was potentially his greatest strength… and then again, look where he ended up. Julian winced at his own thought. Still, it was true. He had learned it for himself over the years of training in District Two. It always lead to his victory in their mock Games and training exercises. He was the best for a reason. Those who relied solely on their brute force could be easily taken down, if you knew what you were doing, and perhaps had the lean athletic build that Julian had been graced with.

It was no shock to him now that the girl who had so foolishly laughed in his face was indeed one of these brutish type tributes. He wouldn’t have even payed her mind if her daft coach hadn’t been gushing over her as he pulled her away from the boy. His eyes rolled upward as he silently walked over. The alpha male inside of him was trying to push forward, begging to show this stupid girl up… but that’s exactly what she was—stupid. She didn’t know any better most likely, just as Julian had not either… at least, not until it was too late. He took in a deep breath to quell his rising pride and temper, two qualities that never ended well when mixed. She was very much like the kids he was now forced to train in his own District, and if he could stomach that, he would stomach this. So he simply left her with the same advice he offered them.

“No one’s going to sponsor a girl with a messed up face. I’d keep that mug of yours under better care if I were you,” he said as he looked down at her, both physically and metaphorically. His voice remained cold, haughty and distant, but at least he had not gone with plan B, to rough her up himself.

His eyes flickered to the open doorway of the gym where Glitch was now blatantly tapping her wrist in a panic to indicate the time. A smirk curled across Julian’s lips at the sight. Glitch was an odd woman, but he did enjoy her for the entertainment value of it all, especially now that he was finally rested once more. He turned to address Coach Osmond and the room as a whole to give his little farewell that Glitch had once again planned herself.

“Thank you all for hosting my visit today, it was a pleasure meeting you all,” Julian said as he turned and walked to the doorway, shaking hands of those he passed. His father, Serge, shook hands with Osmand and stalked his way to the door. This had likely been his favorite part of the tour thus far. Once more the coach riled up the rowdy bunch to hoot and cheer their thanks for the visit.

Serge and Glitch led the way, but Julian remained in the doorway for the moment as the noise died down. He looked back to the girl who’s hair he had cut and had come so close to harming; he didn’t even know her name. He locked his cold eyes with her as he gave his final parting words; words not intended to be spoken on Glitch’s behalf. “May the odds be ever in your favor.”

His cruel grin curled upon his lips once more as he turned and slowly walked away, feeling powerful in that moment. Despite the Games, despite his pain and guilt, Julian was still a Bryze, and his powerful presence would never go unrecognized. People could loathe him, love him or fear him, but they had better respect him, or they would certainly come to regret it.