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{push / shove} ;; north
Jan 23, 2013 20:56:15 GMT -5
Post by gm bourgeois decadence [aya] on Jan 23, 2013 20:56:15 GMT -5
[/i][/color]And I recall
The push more than the fall
Owen Rook —
Back in District Seven, Owen Rook was an entirely different person than he was in the Capitol. He wasn't entirely sure if it was suddenly being in a room filled with weapons or if he was merely reacting to the ever-present feeling of his impending demise pressing down upon him, but years of pent-up aggression that the mild-mannered family boy didn't even realize he had seemed to be the only thing that Owen was capable of exhibiting. At first, it was nothing. On the train, he'd fumed silently, cursing himself, cursing Alexander who'd made the same journey before him, for her errors in the arena, for the family standard that she'd set. Cursing the fact that he'd be expected to measure up, that he'd be required to uphold the clan name, that the entire time, the Capitol — and, worse, District 7 — would be comparing him to the killer of three that had abandoned all notions of her previous life to traipse across that frozen tundra with the boy who would become victor.
Worse, he'd willingly accepted the grudges, the prejudices, the rage and hatred that hailed from Alexander's lifetime. It wasn't fair for him to hate this year's boy from District Three, but the loathing was inherent, unshakable. After all, it was that year's boy who'd snuffed out his sister — betrayed her, really — and Owen Rook was not lucky enough to be Viridian Harper, to be thrown into the 63rd wildlife deathtrap with someone who shared murderous blood, and thus had settled for the much more dubious district relation. It was enough for Owen, enough to make him despise Ezra Argrow before he'd even locked eyes with him, before they'd exchanged a word.
It was enough to compel the seventeen-year-old, who was growing more impulsive, more rash by the day, to sneer at him as he sauntered towards him in training, and, beyond that, to summon a massive gob of spit and launch it at the other boy's face.
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