The Proof is in the Pudding (coffee)

Devin
Merchant

[M:-200]

140 POSTS
last seen Feb 22, 2013 21:19:52 GMT -5

The Proof is in the Pudding (coffee) Feb 19, 2013 0:02:45 GMT -5

Post by Devin on Feb 19, 2013 0:02:45 GMT -5

Dawn had just risen over the horizon at the edge of the district, the sun climbing into the sky beyond the fence and spreading its light over the quarries, sending little tendrils of light through the cracks in their walls. The light was still low, with a faint sense of spring dancing with the foggy air at the ground level. Korey stirred, rolling over onto his side. The bed was slightly damp from the window that he'd left open over night, and he slowly opened his eyes, letting them flutter open. It was cold beneath the window, the damp from the morning dew making him chilled. Slowly, he pushed himself up into a seated position, then shoved aside the quilt he'd bee sleeping under, one that his mother had made for him when he was little. His muscles were stiff, aching from spending the previous day hauling rocks, and he rolled his shoulders, trying to ease their strain.

Rising was a slow process, but the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen of the home brought Korey's head up to attention and he finally rose to his feet, wobbling unsteadily as he stepped up onto his feet. Yawning, he scrubbed a hand over the mass of blonde hair at the back of his head, then finally lurched toward the door to his bedroom and out through it, blinking uncomfortably against the light as he headed into the kitchen. He wasn't really thinking yet, his brain in slow motion as he stumbled past his mother and poured a cup of the black coffee, then took a deep drink from it, finally turning around. His mother stood with her hands on her hips, staring at him, and he raised one hand to her in greeting, then carried the mug out the front door. He was still dressed for bed, but it didn't matter; he wasn't planning on going very far at all.

Dawn always came much too early, but he'd be ready for school in an hour and one of the best dressed in his class as well. There were perks to being from District 2. If his father had his way, one day Korey would be a Peacekeeper. He tried to push that thought out of his mind as he blinked against the rising sun and took another deep drink of his coffee, belched, and tossed the rest of the liquid into the nearby grass. He glanced down, realizing that the ground was warmer than it had been in months. Strange. He turned to go back inside, but before he could get very far, he heard a sound and raised his head to see who could be approaching at this hour of the morning.

coffeejunkee405
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last seen Apr 26, 2013 15:55:20 GMT -5

The Proof is in the Pudding (coffee) Feb 19, 2013 0:36:14 GMT -5

Post by coffeejunkee405 on Feb 19, 2013 0:36:14 GMT -5

The sun crept from behind the clouds, flooding the fissures and cliff faces in the quarry. The deep golden tone rolled over hills, and down lanes, blasting its way into houses throughout District 2. It would be almost 7 at this point, but I’ve been up for almost two hours already. It is warmer than it has been for almost two months, but it is still far from being comfortable, in my opinion. But I won’t let that stop me. Not now anyway. Dad wouldn’t let cold weather, or anything for that matter, stop him and if he passed one thing on to me, it was his resolve. Despite the fact that another set of Games had started, I knew that if I was going to be a Victor one day, I could not take any time off. That being said, I start my morning around a quarter to five.

The dark of the night was deep, and cold. The grass outside was, what little there was, was rock solid with frost. I rolled from my bunk bed, landing with almost no noise. Well, as little noise as a 6’4” 210 pound man can anyway. I stop and I stand up, looking back over my shoulder. Deke is out like a light. He’s used to it by now, me getting up. He knows I’ll be back in time, so he does not worry about me anymore. As hardened a career as I have become, I love that dude with every fiber of my being. The fact that he is my twin only compounds that love. I sniff deeply, looking out the window. I can see some of the street lit up, but no one is awake now except for Peacekeepers. I pull on my sweat pants, and a hoodie and make my way down the stairs.

The house is silent; no one is awake yet. Two hours earlier was a different story. I woke up, as I do every time it happens, to Maia screaming and running down the hall. She is twelve now, but the nightmares have not even begun to subside. I went out, checked the house, checked the doors, and then made my way back to bed. But now it was go time. I grabbed my keys from a hook by the door, and looped the lanyard around my neck, pulling the front door shut behind me. I crack my neck, and flip the hood up. Nothing can prepare you for the stink that is in the air just before dawn. It is not quite like grass, but not quite to must either. It’s somewhere in between. Either way, I can’t take a lot of time.

I tend to let my mind go completely blank when I run. I let all of my worries, stress, and anger flow down my legs and out the souls of my feet with every stride I make. The houses pass by slowly at first, but at the first mile mark, I begin to pick it up. By the time I hit my 7 mile mark, the air is beginning to hurt my lungs. I push through, knowing full well I haven’t even hit my lactic threshold yet. I continue on, winding the streets, letting my mind just run. Pretty soon my mother will be waking. It is getting nearier to 6, and I have begun my route home from the main quarry, which is my half way point, or the turn around point for me at this point. I don’t have a lot left in the tank by now, and my chest heaves, up and down, pulling me along. I round onto my street as the sun comes out. My house is till 2 miles down. I hit my cool down pace, and lower my hood, exposing my sweat soaked head and neck to the cool morning air. The sunlight initially feels great on my exposed skin, but soon the chill of the air shakes me to the core. I notice, as I begin to near my house, the front door of a house open. Soon a guy I know to by age emerges from the door. I’m walking by now, my hands behind my head, opening my chest up, allowing for maximum oxygen flow. The boy throws his coffee into the yard and I notice his head twists in my direction, which makes sense, since I just spit rather violently into the cold hard pavement. I draw near to the guy. I think his name is Korey, but I’m not entirely sure. Like most children in District 2, he looks fit enough, probably home training as a career, like I used to. I have no doubt I could take him if I wanted, but right now, I have no reason to. “Morning sunshine, “ I call out at him, and continue walking by, smiling sarcastically at him in his pajamas this late. Some people just don’t want it badly enough.

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Devin
Merchant

[M:-200]

140 POSTS
last seen Feb 22, 2013 21:19:52 GMT -5

The Proof is in the Pudding (coffee) Feb 20, 2013 3:34:42 GMT -5

Post by Devin on Feb 20, 2013 3:34:42 GMT -5

Korey trained, but he didn't take it seriously when he did. He was strong enough, in spite of his relatively small size, due to the work that he did with his father in the quarries. District 2 had none of the problems that came with being from one of the lower districts, and he was confident in his ability to outsmart an opponent in a fight. Perhaps it wasn't so much that he didn't need to run as it was that he didn't want to run. Unlike most of his neighbors in the District, he had no interest in the Hunger Games, or a future as a Peacekeeper. Death brought no real glory, and he knew it. Talking was easier because it hid everything that was hidden in his stormy heart, every fear of dying, every sense of insecurity that he wasn't as good as the other boys in his age bracket. Everybody knew it, and he knew that there was talk about each of them, speculation and pre-Games betting. Everyone wanted their money on the strongest to stand up and volunteer for their district. It disgusted Korey, but what was he supposed to do about it? In Panem, you stayed in the district where you were born and that was the end of that.

Growing up here didn't mean that he dreamed of the things that other people dreamed of. Sometimes Korey wondered if people in the lower districts ever ached to volunteer for the Games and to bring home glory for their district. He couldn't care less, except that he'd prefer to avoid the entire thing if possible. There were others who felt differently, and as Isaiah approached him, Korey stiffened, prepared to turn around and head into the house again to avoid the teasing. But that was stupid, and he knew that there was no reason for him to give the appearance of being weak when he knew he was anything but weak. So instead, he straightened from where he'd been leaning on the post and watching the sun rise. "Morning," he said in response.

Half the tributes would be worn out before they even made it into the Arena. But as for Korey, he wasn't planning on volunteering, not this Games, and not the next. All he had to do was make it to eighteen this way, without getting reaped.

coffeejunkee405
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last seen Apr 26, 2013 15:55:20 GMT -5

The Proof is in the Pudding (coffee) Feb 20, 2013 10:24:35 GMT -5

Post by coffeejunkee405 on Feb 20, 2013 10:24:35 GMT -5

I hear his greeting, but I have no intention of making conversation. Not now anyway. My feed stride gently on the pavement, as I draw near to my house. As I walk up the sidewalk to the front door, I can see my reflection in the picture window immediately to my right. I look awful. Sweat-soaked and pale from cold, with my nose brighter red than a ripe apple, I look like I could be suffering from some sort of flu. I push through the door, and am greeted instantly to the smell of bacon and eggs, and if I’m not mistaken, coffee. The smells grow stronger, causing me to salivate, as I enter the kitchen. Deacon and Maia are already eating, but neither of them drinks coffee. Coffee was always Mom and Dad’s thing. I never really acquired a taste for it, and besides, the fewer chemicals I am hooked on now, the less likely I am to go into withdrawals and get sick in the Arena.

I have never doubted, not even once, that I would be in the Games one day. On the same note, I have never even considered that I wouldn’t win the Games. Why wouldn’t I? I train harder than anyone I know. I’m more skilled than many of my counterparts, and by the time I become volunteer age, I will be bigger, faster, and stronger than any of the other tributes. No, going into the Games is a point of [ride and something I look forward to. The only reservation I have is that Deacon will be alone to fend for himself. For the weeks, (or days depending on how quickly I can take care of the other tributes), Deacon would be left to the whims and brutality of the bullies at school. The thought of this, not to mention leaving Maia who has become quite fierce in her own right, makes me cringe a little. As rough and tumble as I might seem, if something ever happened to either of them, I don’t know how I could live with myself.

These thoughts always seem to crop up at meal times, when I have the opportunity to look at the pair of them. Deacon is so innocent and pure that to picture him trying to fend for himself is the definition of depressing. But I shake my head, clearing these thoughts as my mom slides a plate in front of me, smiling over her coffee. She asks about my run, and the weather out there. I purse my lips slightly and shrug, my usual response when she asks this every day. The eggs are warm and delicious, but I have come to take these for granted. I mean, if there is such a thing as rich in District 2, we might be it. The bacon is crisp and equally delicious, and a fine compliment to the dry toast and the perfectly scrambled eggs. Deacon looks blankly at his homework, and I want to help, but let’s be honest, I am about as good at it as he is. But, without hesitation, here comes supermom to the rescue. She swoops in and begins to walk him through it. Maia has slunk from the room without much notice. She isn’t a morning person.

The whole dressing process is a blur, as usual. I have a faint memory of the steaming hot shower, but not much. I tend to go on autopilot after my run. It is close to eight now, and Mom has already left for the school, her work place. It’s my job to make sure Maia and Deke make it on time, and I’m good at that at least. Class begins at 830, and the school is at most a twenty minute walk. I sling my duffel, which is packed with books and notebooks, and my training cloths, over my shoulder and give a final holler up the stairs. ”Alright, let’s go. I’m out the door in two minutes!” I say this almost everyday, but I think they both know, or at least I know by now Maia knows, I won’t leave without them. They both come down the stairs, looking at me anxiously. Straight out the front door we march, and I pull the door shut and lock it behind me. The air is warmer now, but not so much that I actually enjoy being out in it. The road winds out before us. We must look like a picture perfect family: me with my black and red fauxhawk, Deacon with his signature smile and friendly face, and Maia, who looks as though she might just kick a puppy. Again, she isn’t much of a morning person.

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Last Edit: Feb 20, 2013 10:31:01 GMT -5 by coffeejunkee405