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Sampson
Merchant

[M:-50]

162 POSTS

last seen Sept 7, 2018 6:51:56 GMT -5

pardon me, just getting used to v5...

keep |marching| on {{aya-blitz}} Jan 31, 2013 19:29:26 GMT -5

Post by Sampson on Jan 31, 2013 19:29:26 GMT -5

promise you that
¦ sampson farron ¦

There's so many wars we fought,
There's so many things we're not,

Sitting at the empty table that had held their last full meal only hours ago, Sampson let her scarred hands fan out against the cold glass. It was like touching ice; the surface's temperature caused goosebumps to erupt across her flesh. She shuddered, curling over into the table to allow her cheek to press into the clear surface. Fog appeared by her lips and nose, moisture collecting as she breathed. "What are you gonna do now?" the words came out with an exhausted sigh. They fell away in the darkness, finding no ears but her own. The question lived on in her thoughts, repeating like a broken track.

The stress of Sampson's tomorrow, of all 24 tribute's futures, had kept her from sleeping. She had found the deserted table and collapsed there. Now, settled in the darkness of the lonely room, the anxiety of entering the arena tomorrow welled up in her chest so painfully that the District 7 tribute thought she might burst. Normally, whenever she felt such great uneasiness, she'd smile and it would help. With no one around to grin at, the nervousness bubbled dangerously within. To prevent tears or some other crazy way to find relief, Sampson began to whistle a dull, solemn tune.

We'll have the days we break,
And we'll have the scars to prove it.

gm bourgeois decadence [aya]
Administrator

6,256 POSTS
last seen Jan 27, 2024 16:01:40 GMT -5

"GUNNERRRRR~"

keep |marching| on {{aya-blitz}} Feb 1, 2013 23:15:01 GMT -5

Post by gm bourgeois decadence [aya] on Feb 1, 2013 23:15:01 GMT -5

We used to wait
We used to waste hours, just walkin around
We used to wait
All those wasted lives in the wilderness downtown

Owen Rook —

[/i][/color]
With less than twelve hours before the Games, Owen found himself lying awake, clear blue eyes finding shapes on the ceiling through the darkness. As a younger boy, he used to do this at home — to stare at the stars through the fist-sized hole in the roof of their rundown home, worrying about food while his younger siblings fidgeted in their sleep on the other side of the tiny room. Despite the name of the competition that began in the morning — Hunger was quite familiar to the seventeen-year-old, after all — Owen still caught himself too preoccupied to sleep, much as he had in his youth.

Perfectly aware that memorizing the ceiling would not get him to sleep any faster, Owen slid out of bed to grab a glass of water. He'd planned to pace for an hour, for two, for however many it took to wear a hole in the floor, but was startled to emerge from his bedroom to the tune of a low whistle. At the kitchen table sat Sampson, the girl who'd been taken from the lumber district alongside the Rook boy. "You can't sleep either," he remarked. It was not a question so much as an observation, an acknowledgement of the fact that although they may be at each other's throats with knives the very next morning, there was something fundamentally similar about the two from District Seven. About all of the tributes, even. Without any invitation, he pulled a chair away from the dining table on the side opposite the girl, seating himself, only to stare at his thumbs for awhile.

ooc - so so sorry it took me this long to reply, what with the bloodbath in the morning and all![/size][/blockquote][/justify]

{characters}

certified kindergartener
stranded in "beach" "city"
leader of the crystal gems

Sampson
Merchant

[M:-50]

162 POSTS

last seen Sept 7, 2018 6:51:56 GMT -5

pardon me, just getting used to v5...

keep |marching| on {{aya-blitz}} Feb 2, 2013 0:39:44 GMT -5

Post by Sampson on Feb 2, 2013 0:39:44 GMT -5

promise you that
¦ sampson farron ¦

There's so many wars we fought,
There's so many things we're not,

"You can't sleep either," the boy's appearance and his words caused Sampson to start for a moment. Her scarred fingers, which had been tracing circles through the white clouds that had formed on the table's surface, now pushed off against the table so that the girl could get a better view in the dark. As if watching a ghost, a hint of disbelief playing on her features, Sampson's eyes followed Owen Rook as he sat across the table from her. There wasn't much to the boy, or at least, not much that Sampson knew. Her information on him basically consisted of knowing that they shared the same district.

"If I could, I wouldn't be here," Sampson replied, her voice sounding rougher than normal. She instantly realized this, offering an apologetic smile in the boy's direction. "Sorry," her tone was softer, "I hate losing sleep." Hate. There was so much more to that word than Sampson could ever fully explain. She didn't hate staying up, no, she hated the fact that 23 of them would be dead in a few days.

OOC || Don't worry about it! It's totally fine (:

We'll have the days we break,
And we'll have the scars to prove it.

gm bourgeois decadence [aya]
Administrator

6,256 POSTS
last seen Jan 27, 2024 16:01:40 GMT -5

"GUNNERRRRR~"

keep |marching| on {{aya-blitz}} Feb 2, 2013 1:18:09 GMT -5

Post by gm bourgeois decadence [aya] on Feb 2, 2013 1:18:09 GMT -5

We used to wait
We used to waste hours, just walkin around
We used to wait
All those wasted lives in the wilderness downtown

Owen Rook —

[/i][/color]

"If I could, I wouldn't be here." Though Sampson's voice was coarse as she spoke, the reminder that there would be no more comfortable beds, no more dining tables, no chairs or fine china was as gentle as it could be, given the circumstances. A sympathetic smile twitched across Owen's face for a brief moment before his lips faded into a somber line. He'd been harsh to most that he'd interacted with since arriving in the Capitol, but the stillness of the night and the impending massacre produced a softness in Owen that was reserved for his younger siblings. "Would anyone?"

Would he? Not for the first time, Owen found himself doubting not his ability to win, but his desire to. The kids could use the money, the district could use the food — but what about Owen? Given the choice, would he want to be the next sad-eyed Mace Emberstatt? There was no denying that the life of a victor was seldom a happy one; if Alexander's stint in the arena had been hard on Owen, as the tribute's younger brother, he could only assume the victor's ache had to be twenty-three times that. Absentmindedly, he braced his head in his hand and leaned against the table, his body suggesting exhaustion but his brain still in a state of utter rebellion. "Doubt anyone's getting much sleep tonight." Because how could they?

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

{characters}

certified kindergartener
stranded in "beach" "city"
leader of the crystal gems

Sampson
Merchant

[M:-50]

162 POSTS

last seen Sept 7, 2018 6:51:56 GMT -5

pardon me, just getting used to v5...

keep |marching| on {{aya-blitz}} Feb 2, 2013 11:55:47 GMT -5

Post by Sampson on Feb 2, 2013 11:55:47 GMT -5

promise you that
¦ sampson farron ¦

There's so many wars we fought,
There's so many things we're not,

His words drew an exhausted sigh from Sampson's thin lips. "I'm pretty sure the higher districts will sleep better than any of us," her words held some truth, but in reality, were a shot in the dark for her. The tribute had failed to even recognize the Career pack this year or note their skills. Her knowledge consisted of the basics, just as they did for Owen. Noah was the brother of the Ripley boy from the 61st Games, Fitz. Viridian Harper had also had a sibling in those Games, a startling girl named Stark. The girl from 2 had scored a 12, which meant she was probably a killing machine.

She looked up towards Owen, trying to keep from thinking too much of the Careers. Too much of that could drive any tribute insane. Fingers running along the edge of the table, Sampson wondered what ran through her district partner's head. He hardly talked. Well, they had both committed to barely acknowledging one another. That was fine with Sampson. She had lived like that for years, just getting by on her own. But for some reason she couldn't explain, the girl wished she had spoken to him more. She'd have liked to think they had been on friendly grounds when they died.