Stall Me {Sierra/Xanthus}

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“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.” - steinbeck

Stall Me {Sierra/Xanthus} Jul 7, 2013 12:56:41 GMT -5

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Post by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ on Jul 7, 2013 12:56:41 GMT -5

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x a n t h u s g r i m m .

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Xanthus Grimm slips down the halls, looking beautiful and elegant. Dirt runs from his step, and he radiates the feel of a predator. He turns a corner, and finds himself out of sight of the main atrium, where the dinner room extends off of. Suddenly, there is a thickness in his throat, like a constriction. He cannot breath, it hurts to do so. Panic clouds his mind, and he sinks to the floor of the hallway he was walking through, legs giving out beneath him. I need my room. Xanthus needed to go back to his big old house, the one he hadn't left for more than an hour at a time in years and years. This was too much, that reaping day, the train ride, it had all taken too much out of him. it had been the most he could manage. He sunk against the wall, sliding down against germs and other horrid things. Tears sprung to his eyes as a result of the pain of not being able to take air in, as well as that homesickness. He could feel his resolve giving out, could feel horror seeping in.

I want to go home!

He wanted to go home and be hidden away in that place, to feel secure in the fact that he couldn't hurt anyone there. Well, aside from those who evoked his malice. He was safe there because the rest of the world was safe from him when on the outside. Too much exposure to the outside world was creating this panic, this horror, and Xanthus was never normal to begin with. This place would turn him into the monster he had never wanted to be. I wanted to catch the monsters, what happened to that. He needed an anchor, something or someone that he couldn't possibly hurt to remind him how to be a human being. Yet maybe he would die here, freaking out in this dark hallway while everyone was at dinner.

Talking
Doing
Deep Thought
Hearing
Addiction[/blockquote][/justify][/size][/td][/tr][/left][/table]

compendium / avriel
clown car / pietro
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clover ❁
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Stall Me {Sierra/Xanthus} Jul 7, 2013 23:51:06 GMT -5

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Post by clover ❁ on Jul 7, 2013 23:51:06 GMT -5

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sierra birdbrook

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Today, I cannot face the dining hall. There are too many voices, too many faces. Meela used to tease me for thinking the best in everyone, but even I cannot maintain faith in the twenty-three that surround me. This time next week, some of us will have killed. (And some will have died.) It is perhaps for this reason I find myself wandering aimlessly through the halls of the training center, attempting to avoid any potential killers. I can't help but think of them this way, when I have spent the last couple of days watching them swing weapons and destroy their mock-victims.

In the darkness, I spot a figure, hunched partially against the wall. At first, I turn on my heel, hoping to leave before they notice me. I have barely made it to the doorway before I find myself walking toward him. I cannot tell if he is crying or struggling to breathe, but I skip toward him anyway, and hold him. I can't see his face - it could be anyone - but I am quite sure that whoever it is needs my help. "Are you alright?" I ask him, my voice a gentle whisper.

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food for worms
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“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.” - steinbeck

Stall Me {Sierra/Xanthus} Jul 8, 2013 0:35:11 GMT -5

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Post by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ on Jul 8, 2013 0:35:11 GMT -5

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x a n t h u s g r i m m .

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He can feel himself leaking away, blood through wooden floorboards. The way it dripped between the cracks, how many hours he spent cleaning it up. How many hours he still did, or used to every day. He misses his routines, he needs his dominoes. Uncontrolled, he's already drunken the blood of two hours in a three day or so time span. He used to be able to go a bit longer than that. It's because he doesn't have the dominoes to distract himself with. he needs the exercise of setting them up in beautiful swirling designs, only to take them down again one by one instead of letting them tip over. He feels like he's been tipped over, he needs to be put back in his tin where he can't make a mess. I could kill someone too easily. Maybe it was what he was here to do, but he didn't want to, not right now. He wanted to go home.

He felt arms around him, little weak ones, those of a child. Xanthus went rigid in her grasp, panic building to insurmountable heights. Don't touch me! Opening shut eyes, he found himself looking into the pixie like face of the little thing from District Twelve. He had stayed away from her and her jar of wishes until now, not wanting to give her a heart attack from fear. He sat still, unable to move, unsure of what to do. She was looking at him with more concern than he had seen in a long time. The way his nanny would when he skinned his knees. I can't hurt her, she's too.....sweet. It was surprisingly comforting, almost natural to let her remain there. He did not shrug her off, instead found himself leaning into her hold. Trying to catch his breath, he took in the scent of her and found spice and sweetness. Her hands felt unnatural there, but in a good way, like something he hadn't had for a very long time, and was missing horribly. Opening his mouth, his usually calm and calculated words turned into chaos and fear, spilling out like the tide comes in.

"I hate it here, I want to go home, everyone is scary, I miss my room, I hate how bright it is, I want to go home, it's dirty, there are bugs, everyone stares, and I can't handle it. I want to go home."

Talking
Doing
Deep Thought
Hearing
Addiction[/blockquote][/justify][/size][/td][/tr][/left][/table]

compendium / avriel
clown car / pietro
2022 tracker / 2023 tracker / 2024 tracker

clover ❁
Capitol Resident

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Pronouns: she/her
last seen Apr 15, 2024 4:01:56 GMT -5

Stall Me {Sierra/Xanthus} Jul 8, 2013 1:26:43 GMT -5

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Post by clover ❁ on Jul 8, 2013 1:26:43 GMT -5

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sierra birdbrook

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At first the boy goes rigid - (it is likely he did not hear my approaching footsteps) - it feels as though a long moment has passed before he finally looks up and takes in my face. He is Xanthus Grimm, the boy who I recall as being at least two feet taller than I. He seems a lot smaller, now. I attempt to collect memories of this boy from the last few days - his reaping, perhaps, played on tape to me by my escort, or his actions in the training center? I don't remember if he dropped a wish in my jar, can't recall anything but the intimidating presence that surrounds him. It's almost comforting, seeing that even those who seem the most like monsters are aching just as much as the rest.

He speaks, lips barely parting, Xanthus explains his reason for tears. "I hate it here, I want to go home, everyone is scary, I miss my room - " in my mind, I can see my own bedroom, a prison filled with air that became almost too heavy to breathe. It would be nice to be able to miss such a place. And yet a glance at the person before me suggests that homesickness might not make up for the happy memories that enabled it. "I hate how bright it is, I want to go home, it's dirty, there are bugs, everyone stares, and I can't handle it. I want to go home." I nod, unsure what I can say to soothe his panic. I understand why he wants to leave - while coming here was my choice, my final chance at escape, it was an inconvenience to almost everyone else. My mind is still for a moment, because although I am brave (and there is no fear in my heart for my own fate), I worry for Xanthus Grimm.

"M-maybe you will go home." I start, although it is cruel to suggest such an unlikely outcome. "Or, or... maybe everything wont be so bad as it seems right now." Something deep inside of me begs to shake him, and scream that he just needs to be happy - just smile, enjoy the air in your lungs while you can, seize this opportunity with open arms - but I scold myself. That isn't the point of any of this, not for them. "There's always hope, right?" I know my tone is sweet, but I cannot help but fear he will not agree.

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