linger {kire}{blitz}

marcellus rhodes 11b arc
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linger {kire}{blitz} Jan 31, 2016 20:54:43 GMT -5

Quote

Post by marcellus rhodes 11b arc on Jan 31, 2016 20:54:43 GMT -5

[presto]

[/presto]

s o l .

His stomach resulted to a grumble, the only way to make it remove from his system was to find himself eating way the sins that they've been provided that was from their own work. He sat there for a moment, looking at the simple meal of a sandwich that was filled with all sorts of toppings and sides. Lettuce, ham, cheese, it was an advanced sandwich that he'd grow used to easily.

A small prayer flowed through his mind, a praise or a toast more like it. A toast to those who fought, a toast to those who have fallen to the Capitol. A fight that was to never cease, for there is no fight to let rage on.

The only fight that he has is the one of survival over death.

He sees another male, from eight he thinks, though his voice seems to hesitate. A lingering greeting that floated throughout the air, perhaps?

get dunk't on

Last Edit: Jan 31, 2016 21:00:10 GMT -5 by marcellus rhodes 11b arc

Kire
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linger {kire}{blitz} Feb 1, 2016 13:13:42 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Kire on Feb 1, 2016 13:13:42 GMT -5

Ezero Laffan

At lunch I took a break from Rocko's coaching - he so desperately wanted me to interact well with the crowd that he would lecture me for hours in the morning before sending me off for lunch and letting me train at the actual stations - and went to get something to eat. I was still having a hard time making any kind of eye contact with anyone, despite all of the times Rocko had grabbed me by the chin and forced me to look into his face saying "Loooook at me, Ezero. I want to see those eyes of yours.^[1]"

So I kept my head down, eyes only a few paces ahead of my feet. As I approach the table - signified by the shadow that crept into the top of my vision - I hear a small noise a little to my left. Looking up like the sound had been a gunshot rather than a soft utterance, my eyes leap to the face of the District five boy. I try to gather what I know about him to try and place his name but only the smallest things reach me. Then something clicks and I realize he is related to a past tribute, "Shim?" I say my guess before I know I'm going to speak, but I'm pretty confident about my guess.

[1] Imagine this in a Spanish/Latino accent please.

[googlefont="Abril Fatface:400"]

On hills and waves on stormy days.

marcellus rhodes 11b arc
Veteran Member

2,543 POSTS

Pronouns: he/him
last seen Apr 2, 2024 19:10:57 GMT -5

linger {kire}{blitz} Feb 1, 2016 20:36:08 GMT -5

Quote

Post by marcellus rhodes 11b arc on Feb 1, 2016 20:36:08 GMT -5

[presto]

[/presto]

s o l .

His head shoots up as if he were to have heard a gunshot ring throughout the room, his eyes flashing left and right trying to find a person, a signal for who possibly made the sound. And then his eyes land on Sol, little old Sol who towered over many tributes easily. His lips fire out a word, the word that had been spoken twice over the last ten years at a reaping.

"Shim?" This caused a sad, yet small nod. Shim. That was the name that belonged to him, that was the name that belonged to Lluvia.

That was the name that belonged to Sol's blood; not the people who had been brought by heritage. It was his name of legacy, in which one person fell in the hope of restoring faith in the people of that generation.

"That is me." He looked up at the male, an interested emotion planted on his face and made a motion with his hand to signal the general area of the table. "Mind a chat?"

get dunk't on

Kire
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linger {kire}{blitz} Feb 3, 2016 14:27:42 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Kire on Feb 3, 2016 14:27:42 GMT -5

Ezero Laffan

He nods, a barely noticeable motion but it's there. My guess was correct, though I don't get much pride from that. While we all are here for the same reason, we all have different feelings about what is going on. Some of us revel in this - the careers come to mind, especially the girls from One and Four - while others silently manage - myself, I believe, and a number of others. Still others sink into despair or the memories of someone else who went before us. Relatives to past tributes must feel their ghosts pass through these halls and think they did this too, back then, they also held this knife and ate this food.

I have the freedom of not knowing anyone who had come here before me, but I still feel the weight of all of those stolen lives pressing down on this building any on my shoulders. This boy had lost someone to these Games, and now we were both going to lose ourselves. "That is me." For a moment the sadness is hidden behind interest as he looks at me. We can't escape it, though, just like we can't escape the Games. "Mind a chat?" He indicates a couple empty chairs near him and I sit on one, half turned toward him while I eye the food laid before us. I had come here to eat, after all, not to chat. Even so, I nodded to him. "Sure." What more can I say, though, I have nothing to chat about. "What's your name, your whole name?" I couldn't keep calling him Shim the entire time, there were too many feelings involved there that I didn't feel like dredging up for him. Though I suppose at this point it was much too late for that.

[googlefont="Abril Fatface:400"]

On hills and waves on stormy days.