The Art of Healing (Azaleah) Blitz

Tom
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The Art of Healing (Azaleah) Blitz Jun 8, 2016 1:43:15 GMT -5

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Post by Tom on Jun 8, 2016 1:43:15 GMT -5

M I N O S

First Aid was essential for every tribute to learn. The art of being able to close the wounds that tear people apart. The idea of bleeding and losing so much blood made Minos’ heart break from the memory of his first kill. An event that haunted him to the core of his being. The event that created the nightmares that fuel his sleep every night and day. His hands flowed quickly, but steadily on the dummy like he had done times before, but this time it was on a dummy and not a real person. Blood wasn’t pumping out of the hole that he was sewing back together, like you would sew a doll’s arm back on.

The arena would have obstacles that all of them would have to face, terrors that would pull the light ones to the darkness and shove the darkness into their eternal darkness. A storm was brewing in all of them and yet they all seemed to remain calm, trying to figure out who they wanted to team up with and who to kill on day one. Minos Vallanso was probably on the latter, but he had a secret to keep hidden, no matter what. The training center was packed with tributes trying to improve their already well-honed skills or learn new ones that could save them. Minos was honing his own skills just because his first aid could always use work. After all a few people have died from Minos’ lack of first aid skills.

A girl who was clearly from a lower district stood nearby working on her own dummy. Minos watched her curiously, the brown hair coming from her head flows behind her and Minos is stuck in a bit of an awe for only a second, once he notices that her technique isn’t the greatest for what she was doing. His voice escaped him, much quicker than he had expected, “Hey, You know, it’d be more useful if you did that like this.” His arm moved to his dummy, letting the rather attractive woman look at his work that he had done from muscle memory. A smile pulls at his face, friendliness oozes from his smile.

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The Art of Healing (Azaleah) Blitz Jun 8, 2016 11:59:18 GMT -5

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Post by d4 tati pelotte [azalea] on Jun 8, 2016 11:59:18 GMT -5

I'm surrounded by future's tragedies.

And that's all what we are—even the one who is crowned victorious, even he shall slip into a world of misfortune and a period of ill-faith. Simply, we are each our own tragedies, built like castle walls and set to observe our own fall.

There was a sense of serenity in knowing it was possible to rebuild the weak points and emerge stronger. Perhaps it's why I gravitated towards the first aid station in the training centre, to give me an essence of reassurance and to relight the fires of hope which burn within me.

(They are bound to go out eventually, though.)

My fingers twirl a needle and I look down to the dummy lying hopeless on the floor. It's false life was in my unholy hands, and I can tell he's not going to make it. I exhale a sigh and sit frustrated.

"Hey, you know, it'd be more useful if you did that like this." A voice calls, and I immediately look up to it's source. I follow the boy's eyes and take a note of his actions as he alters the positioning of the dummy into a more efficient pose for stitching a wound.

I arch a brow, nodding respectfully as he aids me in the manner. It was the boy from Five, Minos—sweet face and deep eyes; I can feel myself getting lost already.

"Ah, thanks. I'm glad there's someone in here who has a set of helping hands." I smile; so does he, but the dummy is on the edge of dying.

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The Art of Healing (Azaleah) Blitz Jun 11, 2016 12:32:08 GMT -5

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Post by Tom on Jun 11, 2016 12:32:08 GMT -5

M I N O S

The smile upon his face feels so real to him. Something of joy or something of life. Minos wasn’t supposed to smile, he was supposed to flirt, drink alcohol, get high, and seem like a zombie walking, but everything felt different. Corpses of the people he couldn’t save appearing in his head, escape was what he would want, but there was no escape from the reality of hands that are no good at helping anyone. First Aid was a skill he learned, a skill that took time to get right. First Aid wasn’t just about doing the act, he had to learn how to calm himself. Calm himself so he can sew up the stab wound. Sew up the deep gash from falls down the hill with wires. Minos had sewn himself and others up multiple times before. Calmness was the key to it.

The dummies that lay before him and the girl from twelve, remain in their same spot, staring upwards, like they know they were going to die, unless Petra’s and Minos’ hands claimed their wounds, stitching up the fake skin back together. A feeling of nausea hit him, but as quick as it came, it vanished. Instead replaced with a body, still on the ground, a woman’s scream echoing in his ear. Minos was dead already, just like the dummy in front of him. They were both dead and the capitol’s tools for entertainment in the capitol. Minos glanced quickly to his hands, checking to see if the blood was there or not, which it wasn’t. Calmness was the key to feeling stable.

Her pleasant voice made it to his ear, forming goosebumps on his skin, ”Ah, thanks. I’m glad there’s someone in here who has a set of helping hands.” A compliment that fit perfectly with the beautiful woman before him. The smile still stuck to his face like it was glues there. The dummy still sits before the both of them. Minos’ eyes glancing towards her dummy, the way she had done it the first time reminding him of the way he did it the first time. Painful and allowing death to claim the body. Minos flashed his typical smile, question hanging from his lips, ”Would you like me to show you more? I know a few techniques that could come in handy. If you would like to learn some more?” His friendly smile stays out waiting for her pleasant voice to reply. Calmness was the key to making enemies or friends, and Minos prayed for the latter of the two.

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The Art of Healing (Azaleah) Blitz Jun 12, 2016 10:33:33 GMT -5

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Post by d4 tati pelotte [azalea] on Jun 12, 2016 10:33:33 GMT -5

I watch as his eyes dance towards the dummy, and I follow suit. It enters a new life, and the small lights which were manipulated to show life and death turned off one by one, until eventually, the dummy was completely lifeless like a sack of potatoes.

"Would you like me to show you more? I know a few techniques that could come in handy." I arch a brow before giving a stern nod. This could be the key to unlocking the path to survival, and with my days numbered, chances were made to be taken. "If you would like to learn some more?"

"I'd like that." His smile doesn't flicker or fade until I speak; sickly sweet is Minos. Perhaps he is the type of person who plays the game, who plays it and then wins. Through the stabbing of people in the back and Chinese whispers of rumours which get morphed into reasons to murder. My gaze sinks to the ground before finding itself drifting towards Minos again—no, he can't be that type.

My initial impression of him was that he was too pure and innocent for fighting in this manner. Too good, but driven by a goal to see someone or do something—who am I kidding? I don't know shit about him, but still there's a security in his presence.

"So, do you know much about bandaging wounds?" My head tilts, my mind swaying away from my scepticism of Mr. Vallanso and back towards what really matters—survival.

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