And We're the Cheese {Cato/Arrows}

knuckles
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probably flailing over something

And We're the Cheese {Cato/Arrows} Feb 23, 2015 13:34:48 GMT -5

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Post by knuckles on Feb 23, 2015 13:34:48 GMT -5

.: CHASKE PARKS :.
{district nine : 69th tribute}

It's so cold.

Every fiber of my being quivers. The lonely axe sits quietly in my hands waiting for blood. A picture is waiting to be painted with it's magnificent blade. I only need to find someone first. Someone ready to die. A predator moves through the snow crouching waiting to pounce; all I need is the right moment. Blood freezes inside my veins as I breathe in the frigid weather. My fingers burn as the grip on the axe tightens. Snow flies in every direction as my feet glide across the frozen ground. Snow? Can we play now please?

The same childish voice has haunted me for longer than I can remember. Playing isn't an option, but at the same time it seems so fun. And I'm about to reach down and make a giant snowball, yet something stops me in my tracks. Mother and Father are watching. Chance is watching. Sister is watching. The entire nation is watching. I refuse to be remembered as the tribute playing instead of fighting.

Dragging myself on, I turn around and head back towards the cornucopia. Maybe Mason, Prism, and Wyatt are there waiting for me. Maybe they're among the cannons I heard earlier. All I know is there was a lot of blood, and I can't wait to shed some more. A twisted grin spreads across my face.

We will feast.

I promise.

{table by zoë}

lest we forget [the characters]

credit to Zoe

Arrows
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your resident blonde bisexual boy

And We're the Cheese {Cato/Arrows} Feb 23, 2015 13:55:57 GMT -5

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Post by Arrows on Feb 23, 2015 13:55:57 GMT -5

[presto]

[/presto]

[presto]

4.5/40

[/presto]

[presto]

Full

[/presto]

[presto]

full

[/presto]

[presto]

[/presto]

[presto]

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P r i s m N i x t o n
Tribute of the 69th Hunger Games

?Love is never strong enough to stop the falling of innocence?

Smoking was the way of life, and now Prism stood here wishing so much for a smoke. He longed for the smoke to fill his lungs - withdrawal was worse than anyone could ever imagine. How long had it been? A day? A few hours? It didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that he was here, in the arena, fighting against others. A chance to show he was the person his father wanted him to be. Instinctively, he reached his hand down looking for the pipe. Praying with everything inside that something was inside of it, but it was just wishful thinking. Anything to get his mind off the world around him.

To top it off, it was so cold. The frigid air sliced through the clothing upon his body, through his skin, and struck him straight to the bone. Being from district three, he wasn't used to it. With every step he took, his teeth chattered. A trail was left behind with every step he took. His mind raced wondering what was going on. Blood boiled inside his veins offering little protection from the air. The breeze burnt his lungs further than anything, and for once he gripped the cat-o-nine tails tighter. It was his lifeline. Something he wanted to use. Something he needed for life - if he wanted to live.

The cold was too much. Between not smoking, and the cold, Prism felt lost. He was trapped inside his mind as a war raged on around him. Maybe one day it would end, but for now he needed warmth. He needed to stay alive.

Last Edit: Feb 23, 2015 13:59:01 GMT -5 by Arrows

Graphic by the Breathtakingly Talented Stare

Cato
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I wish Cato didnt die

And We're the Cheese {Cato/Arrows} Feb 23, 2015 14:08:32 GMT -5

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Post by Cato on Feb 23, 2015 14:08:32 GMT -5

mason hammerfell

I hate the cold. My entire body aches as the air blasts across my skin. My knuckles are cold and white. It'll be almost impossible to hold onto a weapon this way. Especially fight with one, but that doesn't stop me from being at the top of my game. I trained for this. Every second of my life was spent training, and now it's important. I'm not fighting for myself anymore. I have a brother back home. He didn't understand the career ways, and I pushed him away. I tore him into pieces. And he gave me these gloves. He gave me them as a present. He's always with me no matter what.

I look over at Prism, and Chazz. They're here, but Wyatt is gone. I have no idea where he is. Granted it's one less person to watch out for, but it doesn't stop me from wanting him here. I need him if I'm going to win. He'll shield my body so that every single tribute leaves me alone. At least there's two of them. I stop when I'm next to them. My breath crystallizing before my eyes. "Any idea where Seven ran off to?" When no answer comes, I start to get angry. Did we really let Wyatt out of our sights? Wyatt is probably out there alone. Must think we left him to die.

Last Edit: Feb 23, 2015 14:12:09 GMT -5 by Cato

knuckles
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probably flailing over something

And We're the Cheese {Cato/Arrows} Feb 23, 2015 15:53:56 GMT -5

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Post by knuckles on Feb 23, 2015 15:53:56 GMT -5

.: CHASKE PARKS :.
{district nine : 69th tribute}

Prism seems mad, about something, but when is he not mad? Mason. I still feel like the brute of a career could break me in half in a split second, yet I stand there looking at him. "I don't know where he ran off to. I never even saw him in the bloodbath." The words slither off my tongue and the air turns to a cloud before my eyes. It's too cold here.

"Why didn't you look for him?"

It's a question one that I want answered. One that he should know, yet I stand here staring at him. My patience wearing thin. He best not keep me waiting.

Play in snow!

The childish voice won't go away. He's been there ever since the bloodbath. Ever since I saw the snow. I have no idea what's going on, or what to do, but my entire body shakes. I don't know if it's from the cold or not, but I tighten my grip on the axe.

If someone was to talk up here now, they wouldn't last long. I would pounce on them as fast as I could.

Some small part of me hopes that Wyatt is alive. He talked to me in the center. He made fun of me for dropping the axe, and I've made it a goal to show him what I'm capable of. Yet another part of me hopes he's dead. It's just another face in the sky, and one less of standing in my way of victory.

The crown will be mine.

"Besides, he's not a child. I'm sure he can do things on his own."

{table by zoë}

lest we forget [the characters]

credit to Zoe

Arrows
Retired Staff

3,236 POSTS

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last seen May 23, 2023 16:50:31 GMT -5

your resident blonde bisexual boy

And We're the Cheese {Cato/Arrows} Feb 23, 2015 16:14:23 GMT -5

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Post by Arrows on Feb 23, 2015 16:14:23 GMT -5

[presto]

[/presto]

[presto]

4.5/40

[/presto]

[presto]

Full

[/presto]

[presto]

full

[/presto]

[presto]

[/presto]

[presto]

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P r i s m N i x t o n
Tribute of the 69th Hunger Games

?Love is never strong enough to stop the falling of innocence?

    Mason brought up a good point. Wyatt wasn't here. He was somewhere out there in the arena, probably alone, maybe he was among the dead in the games. Prism looked around listening to Chaske and Mason yell. Not that it matter. All he wanted was a smoke. Prism longed for the smoke to fill his lungs. He longed for the relief it offered so many times throughout life, but it was taken away from him in the blink of an eye. Finding Wyatt was a priority.

        Actually, the first priority was finding warm so he didn't freeze to death. It was needed, and this long sleeve shirt given by the gamemakers wasn't much of anything. His hair stood on end as he looked around eyes glanced around from Chaske to Mason. Back and forth listening to them yell. A dark presence filled the eyes of nine. His blood boiled with something that wasn't his, yet he was a fighter. Mason on the other hand was a brute. Prism made a mental note to stay on his good side, so he chose to be quiet instead of responding.

    Yet everything he wished for wasn't here. Maybe he would survive the night, yet at the same time he seriously doubted it. Prism was cold. He wanted to start a fire like he had done many times before, but for now he would have to freeze along with everyone else. Perhaps his family was watching him. Hopefully he was the trophy his father wanted him to be. After all, his ultimate goal was surviving. Maybe, just maybe this would go a lot better than anyone could plan.

Graphic by the Breathtakingly Talented Stare