Fill My Mind Up - [kite/basil]

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chelsey
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[M:-650]

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queen of inactivity

Fill My Mind Up - [kite/basil] Feb 2, 2016 3:34:32 GMT -5

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Post by chelsey on Feb 2, 2016 3:34:32 GMT -5

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BASILANATOLA

Escape out of my mind's own home.

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It’s loud in the cafeteria when he enters, but not loud enough to muffle his heartbeat. It thumps loudly - unnecessarily - in that empty chest of his, makes him watch his step, makes him look both ways. Makes him stare at death, right in the eye, through a crystal ball that’s been spinning his fate for him ever since he popped right out of his mama’s belly.

- but, let’s not get carried away: he doesn’t even wanna think about his mama right now. Not now, in a place as dark and cold as this. Not when she’s probably back home, pacing trenches around his bedroom, laying out his school clothes on his bed as if tomorrow was just any other day.

He doesn’t wanna think about tomorrow either.

Basil grips a tray laden with food he’s never seen before (with colors so bright and popping that it makes his hand itch to grab a paintbrush and canvas that isn’t there) and paces his own trenches around the cafeteria, looking for somewhere safe or nonthreatening. His mama may be back home, crying over his sealed fate, but Basil has his own wars to fight here. He paces, his footsteps synchronized with that thump, thump, thump of his heart. He doesn’t want to think about how fast it’s beating, or about how it might not be beating at all within the next few days.

Eventually, he slides in a seat next to a boy who looks as if he might be his own age, too. His heart still screams wildly in that empty cage of his - like it’s running a race his mind just can’t keep up with - and in some kinda desperate attempt to muffle it, he turns to the boy next to him and says, “Sure is dark in here, huh?”

His heart quakes in response.

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"Isn't this the point of being young?"

^ bless avalon's soul ^

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

Fill My Mind Up - [kite/basil] Feb 4, 2016 1:35:10 GMT -5

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Post by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ on Feb 4, 2016 1:35:10 GMT -5

The cafeteria had been hard to find at first but once he had it no longer became a problem. Kite was blind but not stupid, as he walked he was careful and counted steps, gaining familiarity for his surroundings. As a beggar he was used to asking for handouts but Sam had told him in the justice building not to expect any.

Kite did not, he never had. What he did do was hope for handouts. So far it had not been so good. He had been left to make his way by himself for the first few days and had even accidentally stumbled in on a changing tribute once. She had not been happy with him. Luckily for him, Kite had a pretty good excuse when it came to instances like those.

Kite wasn't very sure of what he was eating. It was all stuff he had never tasted before but then again he had been surviving off a beggar's meager palette. His stylist had dumped some things on his tray and had told him to eat up. Kite did not have the heart to tell them that he was not hungry,he had stocked his pockets full of toast at breakfast in case he couldn't find the room again for lunch. He diced to stock his pockets once again with anything that wasn't too damp off of his tray.

Unfortunately he wasn't really able to test the dampness with a fork (that often missed the food anyway) and was currently eating with his fingers. It had not helped him get any lunch guests.

It was alright, Kite was used to being lonely. Not many people wanted to make friends with beggars. Mostly people just ignored kite as he stood out on the same few corners every day, hat in front of him as he sang softly, listening, always listening. Sure, he couldn't see much but his hearing was impeccable.

So when a body landed beside his, climbing out of the buzzing hive that was the cloud of people in the room, Kite turned his head in his general direction.

"Sure is dark in here, huh?"

Kite's head fell to the side thoughtfully. He couldn't help but think that this newcomer was making fun of him. His tone hadn't been in jest though, at least Kite was pretty sure. If he'd wanted to make fun of his sunglasses he could have done it better too. Kite was wearing the same pair from the reaping still. There were a lot of clashing sounds in this room, it was a bit hard to tell. He could also have just been making a general statement about the luminosity of the room. Kite decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"I couldn't say," he said, not unkindly and offered the voice a smile.

"My name is Kite."

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

chelsey
District Mayor

[M:-650]

728 POSTS
Pronouns: she/her
last seen Jul 2, 2016 17:22:46 GMT -5

queen of inactivity

Fill My Mind Up - [kite/basil] Feb 6, 2016 4:32:07 GMT -5

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Post by chelsey on Feb 6, 2016 4:32:07 GMT -5

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BASILANATOLA

Escape out of my mind's own home.

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He’s never been particularly lucky. If a lifetime of bruises and beat-ups and blemishes and best friends that kill themselves has taught him anything, it’s that he really can’t count on luck to be on his side. Maybe that’s why he’s not all that surprised when he looks into the face of the boy who replied “I couldn’t say” and realized it was the blind boy from Four. Out of all the tributes he could’ve said that to, it had to be the blind one. Just his luck.

For a second, he’s almost grateful for the fact that he’s blind, because his face contorts into a horror-filled expression that’s already embarrassing enough as is. He’s about ready to kick himself in the face when the boy continues, “My name is Kite.”

Despite whatever advice his mentors gave him, Basil hasn’t really studied up on the backgrounds and strengths and weaknesses of his competition. He watched all of the reapings until his head felt like it was spinning on his neck, and then that turned to feeling like something (or someone) was gripping his neck, and he wanted to postpone feeling that - or anything like that - for as long as he possibly could.

So, he pushed the task of studying his fellow tributes aside. Screw the rest of them. He let the faces blur together. He let himself forget - even if only for a little while. Forgetting was always for a little while.

The blind boy from Four is hard to forget, though. His reaping, probably, was the one that stood out the most to Basil. He remembers the gleam of his sunglasses under the sun, the stumble in his step as he struggled to find the stage, the second of stupid bravery that landed him here - here, under bright glaring lights that hurt your eyes and dark hallways that always make you feel like someone’s watching you. Not that Kite can see any of that, anyway, but Basil still wonders what would drive a boy like Kite to willingly abandon the sea for this place? Is it because you drown either way? And what’s it like to be blind and never see the ocean?

All those glistening blues, bouncing up and down, melting into a horizon that changes colors as the sun sets. He would kill to see that view. And, apparently, he’s gonna have to.

“I’m Basil,” he replies hastily, stumbling over his own words in a messy attempt to fix his last ones. “And - sorry! I didn’t see the, uh,” he swivels his index finger in front of his own eyes, but, then, remembers that Kite can’t see what he’s doing, “ - the sunglasses. I wasn’t looking.”