various types of silence // mattio // Blitz

ali
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various types of silence // mattio // Blitz Sept 30, 2015 7:05:16 GMT -5

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Post by ali on Sept 30, 2015 7:05:16 GMT -5

Daria Staite
{district four tribute}

We've opened our eyes and its changing the view
Oh, what are we gonna do?
We've opened the door, now its all coming through

The training room was scary. Daria decided that the training room was far too loud- in regard to sights rather than the aspect of sound- and that frightened her.It was her first day, the first day she would be taught and trained to survive.- to Kill she corrected herself as she stepped off the elevator - and as she took her first few steps into the training area she narrowly missed getting hit by some flying object (Was that a...head?). The timid little girl took a tentative step back, away from the floor. For a second she considered running back to her room and hiding away.

Daria felt a crash of lighting, strike through her body as her hurricane began to brew again, storming within her tiny body. The sea was rough and the only way out was to cross it but Daria was too afraid; fear was her guide, her puppet master amongst this chaos which some called peace.

I am good as dead anyway she thought as she took another tentative step back towards the elevator. She noticed a instructor giving her an odd look, disapointed but unsurprised. Daria took little noticed to their persistent demeening stare as she shook her head and took yet another step off the floor. Unfortunately, for Daria, the noise of silence proved a disadvantage as she took another step back, tripping slightly right into someone else.

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”

LAIN 🍽 1M | Mattio
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various types of silence // mattio // Blitz Sept 30, 2015 20:32:34 GMT -5

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Post by LAIN 🍽 1M | Mattio on Sept 30, 2015 20:32:34 GMT -5

[googlefont="Kranky:400"]

rodrick benstaloe

Day one of training. Training to fight for the only thing I’ve known- my dreams. People want to move on with their lives after these types of events, and carrying on with dreams are no different. And the only way to continue to push on is to win. If you don’t, your dreams and life will be crushed and forgotten. It’s hard for people to remember anyone other than first. All the others lost, and their names are just more boxes to be sent back home. I’m not ready to quit dreaming, but if it saves me from a nightmare, it’ll be done in a heartbeat.

I ready to go to the Training Center and train my heart out. All of these people are so foreign, even Leticia, the first tribute I saw. None of them are real people, all of them are fabrications. They are made up like fairytale characters. With every page turned, a new figure just randomly appears. They are being made up as I go.

I listen to the vague ding that signals the elevator to open up. The quiet pitter patter of my feet seem to continue even when I don’t move, but I ignore it. This place is so big. It’s vast area has dummies, weaponry, and survival techniques being displayed all around. I exhale and take a step forward, and with another step something is blocking me. Short dark hair blocks me from moving on. She’s a head short than me.

”Sorry, uh, I didn’t see ya there,” I speak kindly. I’m trying not to get people angry. I just hope she’s not hot headed.

ali
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Ohana means family

various types of silence // mattio // Blitz Oct 3, 2015 9:54:19 GMT -5

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Post by ali on Oct 3, 2015 9:54:19 GMT -5

Daria Staite
{district four tribute}

We've opened our eyes and its changing the view
Oh, what are we gonna do?
We've opened the door, now its all coming through

Daria froze immedietly having just bumped into someone. She was afraid to turn around and see the monster who stood behind her and for a moment she didn't, she just stood frozen in place; but after realising she was being stared at by various memebers in the room, she decided it would become less awkward if she couldn't see their faces. Please don't be a career she thought as she winced, slowly turning to face the person she'd accidently took a tumble into.

The girl was pleasently surprised to see that it was the cowboy from the other night, except this time he was not in a cowboy outfit, just in the typical training clothing that everyone was wearing. Tight, soft black fabric shirts and leggings was the requirement for training, each uniform had the District number emblansened on the breast and the back of the shirt in blue letters. Daria first noticed he was from 10, which would explain the cowboy outfit.

The girl from 4 found herself blushing slightly again as the boy mentioned something about not seeing her- Daria hadn't quite caught the beginning of his sentance but judging by his expression she was sure that he was apologising. Unlike the other night where Daria had been without her strusty chalk board, she had it hanging round her neck today so that she wouldn't lose it.

Carefully Daria took the chalk and the board in her hand and wrote a response on the front before turning it to face the boy from 10.

It's okay...sorry I wasn't looking where I was going Daria paused for a moment to allow him to read what she had written before she wiped the words off and wrote something else. I'm Daria.

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”

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various types of silence // mattio // Blitz Oct 3, 2015 19:26:07 GMT -5

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Post by LAIN 🍽 1M | Mattio on Oct 3, 2015 19:26:07 GMT -5

[googlefont="Kranky:400"]

rodrick benstaloe

The girl’s reaction was weird. It was like her whole body just went into a pause. She looked scared, but I hoped she wasn’t after she was my face. It’s gentler than anything else. The girl turns around, and her pixielike hair looks familiar. I saw her yesterday in the elevator. The only thing that was different was that she looked like some kind of aquatic animal, and now, she’s in the same outfit I am in.

The number stitched onto the side of her outfit reads Four. It’s what I had figured. She doesn’t seem like one of those tough career people like I thought of District Four as. Maybe my dreams are allowing me to meet calm people rather than the ones almost double my size.

She took out a board and began writing on it. Why couldn’t she just talk? Why are people so shy around new people? It’s not like I’m a big bad wolf and she’s one of the three little pigs. Her handwriting is nice and neat, and I can read it perfectly. She blames herself. That’s not something I like to hear. It’s nobody’s fault that things happen. It’s nobody’s fault that I ended up in this half-dream, half-nightmare I now call my life. The girl writes Daria. That must be her name, short and gentle, just like her.

”Nice to meet you formally, Daria. I’m Rodrick,” I don’t want to come off too aggressive or outgoing to this shy girl. Dreams have karma, and karma always ends with your head chopped into a million pieces.