The World is but a Playground {Preston-Asher}
Jun 3, 2015 16:59:03 GMT -5
Post by Asher Rainer d7m {Royal} on Jun 3, 2015 16:59:03 GMT -5
Something beautiful
ASHER RAINER
or something free?
or something free?
So, this was the Capitol? The grand, sprawling place of luxury, of lights, of Capitolites?
All it seemed to Asher as the train screeched to a halt at it's gates is that it looked loud and obnoxious, completely desolate of all the things Asher was already missing. The quiet work stations, the nice wistful smell of the grand, dense forest. His quiet home that he had shared so many laughs with his family in. It came as a shock to him that he felt this heartbroken over any of this- none of these miscellaneous thoughts had come to him when he had been Reaped- or along the train ride here with his district partners. Nothing of this wistful thoughts would he have ever guessed would come to him.
The rest came as a blur- entering the Capitol, seeing the crowds as they left the station, all cheering and snapping pictures and whatnot. He faintly hears a few shrills of people in the background.
"District Seven having four tributes this year!"
He turned and looked at his district partners. He had to be reaped this year, of all years. The one where he is stuck in a district with three tributes from his very own home, the only Games that the only way to win, was to kill three other tributes from his district. To be shunned when he returns to his home. To return to be hated by three other families.
They approached a large, concrete building. Flashing bright lights, huge crowd milling around. The building itself stands around 14 stories tall- desolate of color, blank and intimidating. The Peacekeepers push through the photographers and Capitolites. Asher keeps his head down, disliking the attention he is receiving. He wanted to point his fingers at the others, to make them gain all the attention. He didn't deserve any of this good attention.
Maybe it wasn't good attention- more like advertising his death.
"Let's watch these four kill each other for our sick entertainment!"
Asher dashed straight into the open doors into the training center, exasperated. What the hell is wrong with those people? Do they enjoy this?
Asher roared in anger, frightening his escort. "A-Asher?"
He needed to vent. Now.
"Where the hell is the training center?" He barked, then cursed himself for being such a dick to her... she didn't know what was wrong, she didn't cause it. He sighs, and apologizes quickly. "Sorry... it's just that it's all hitting me so fast and..." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
She just nods like she understands and points towards a door. Asher nods and begins walking towards it, breathing in, breathing out. Try to stay calm, Asher, no need to be an over reactive brute.
Remember who you are.
Asher sighs and steps in the training center, and it is evident that there is only one other district that arrived. He automatically knew that these were the District Four tributes- he remembered the kid, Preston. The little kid he remembered from watching the Reapings...
Asher sighed and shrugged off his sympathy.
Don't let yourself get attached to the other tributes, Asher. Rule Number One.
He immediately walked over the weapons rack, and lifted an ax into his meaty hands. He swings it over his shoulder, remembering the feeling of the old wooden axes from home, except this one was heavy steel. Nonetheless, he saw a wooden dummy, and walked up to it.
He grunted as the ax swung in a large arc around, taking the dummies head straight off, and the wooden head bouncing once, twice, three times across the marble floor. He grunted in anger, and gave the head a swift kick, making it fly across the room, and hitting the wall with such force that it splintered into pieces. He looked over to the other three dummies, standing in silence.
Damn Capitolites.
WHACK!
Maybe we should have sent a few of them into the damn Games.
WHACK!
See how they like THAT!
WHACK!
The final dummy was demolished, sending splinters and dummy body parts flying in multiple directions. He grunted in anger and slammed the ax into one of the fallen dummies.
All it seemed to Asher as the train screeched to a halt at it's gates is that it looked loud and obnoxious, completely desolate of all the things Asher was already missing. The quiet work stations, the nice wistful smell of the grand, dense forest. His quiet home that he had shared so many laughs with his family in. It came as a shock to him that he felt this heartbroken over any of this- none of these miscellaneous thoughts had come to him when he had been Reaped- or along the train ride here with his district partners. Nothing of this wistful thoughts would he have ever guessed would come to him.
The rest came as a blur- entering the Capitol, seeing the crowds as they left the station, all cheering and snapping pictures and whatnot. He faintly hears a few shrills of people in the background.
"District Seven having four tributes this year!"
He turned and looked at his district partners. He had to be reaped this year, of all years. The one where he is stuck in a district with three tributes from his very own home, the only Games that the only way to win, was to kill three other tributes from his district. To be shunned when he returns to his home. To return to be hated by three other families.
They approached a large, concrete building. Flashing bright lights, huge crowd milling around. The building itself stands around 14 stories tall- desolate of color, blank and intimidating. The Peacekeepers push through the photographers and Capitolites. Asher keeps his head down, disliking the attention he is receiving. He wanted to point his fingers at the others, to make them gain all the attention. He didn't deserve any of this good attention.
Maybe it wasn't good attention- more like advertising his death.
"Let's watch these four kill each other for our sick entertainment!"
Asher dashed straight into the open doors into the training center, exasperated. What the hell is wrong with those people? Do they enjoy this?
Asher roared in anger, frightening his escort. "A-Asher?"
He needed to vent. Now.
"Where the hell is the training center?" He barked, then cursed himself for being such a dick to her... she didn't know what was wrong, she didn't cause it. He sighs, and apologizes quickly. "Sorry... it's just that it's all hitting me so fast and..." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
She just nods like she understands and points towards a door. Asher nods and begins walking towards it, breathing in, breathing out. Try to stay calm, Asher, no need to be an over reactive brute.
Remember who you are.
Asher sighs and steps in the training center, and it is evident that there is only one other district that arrived. He automatically knew that these were the District Four tributes- he remembered the kid, Preston. The little kid he remembered from watching the Reapings...
Asher sighed and shrugged off his sympathy.
Don't let yourself get attached to the other tributes, Asher. Rule Number One.
He immediately walked over the weapons rack, and lifted an ax into his meaty hands. He swings it over his shoulder, remembering the feeling of the old wooden axes from home, except this one was heavy steel. Nonetheless, he saw a wooden dummy, and walked up to it.
He grunted as the ax swung in a large arc around, taking the dummies head straight off, and the wooden head bouncing once, twice, three times across the marble floor. He grunted in anger, and gave the head a swift kick, making it fly across the room, and hitting the wall with such force that it splintered into pieces. He looked over to the other three dummies, standing in silence.
Damn Capitolites.
WHACK!
Maybe we should have sent a few of them into the damn Games.
WHACK!
See how they like THAT!
WHACK!
The final dummy was demolished, sending splinters and dummy body parts flying in multiple directions. He grunted in anger and slammed the ax into one of the fallen dummies.
