Drag of Life {Onyx} Blitz

Drag of Life {Onyx} Blitz Jun 12, 2016 8:21:44 GMT -5

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Post by Onyx on Jun 12, 2016 8:21:44 GMT -5

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[attr="class","imageastext"]ALL OF THE THINGS THAT I'VE DONE TERRIBLE THINGS YOU WOULD NEVER BELIEVE OH HOW YOU'LL RUN IF YOU KNEW A SINGLE ONE

MS PERDRIS

requests your presence

My thighs and chest ache sweetly with tension from the day's compulsory exercises and drills. They've been the only true combat practice that I've done while I've been here - but that's not to say I haven't been training. On the contrary, my fingers can work one hundred and one knots deftly into a piece of twine or wire, and my reflexes are sharper than ever. If only I could go home now and show my clients all my new tricks. As it is, however, the only people I'm able to impress with my skill are the public (who I'm sure watch each tribute's actions as scrupulously as we watch each other's), the Gamemakers (painfully beautiful angels of death who see everything from their forcefield-protected perches), and the other teenagers. The latter is who I'm now trying to get away from, out of that thickly humid gymnasium and off to a vacant space to stretch my muscles and clear my head. Nestling tenderly in my long sleeve is the packet of cigarettes and accompanying lighter, stolen unseen from a Capitolite's dresser as she lay, splayed (like cattle to be gutted) and blindfolded, waiting for the Gem of District One to give her the pleasure she desired. I'm not a smoker - I've never believed in poisoning my body with anything so repulsive - but having the packet allows me to drift right past the Peacekeeper into the otherwise restricted smoking section of this building.

The room is the perfect Eden to be alone in, full of fire-retardant plants whose leaves are genetically modified to clear the air of the stink and poison of cigarettes, and which sigh as I rustle past them. However, no sooner have I bent to touch my toes than another figure crashes through the door. Someone who clearly desires and deserves the actual function of this room. He looks at me with an animalistic desire that makes me smirk - which then turns into a malicious grin as I notice the urgency with which he stares as the cigarette pack. In a flash I've put the clues together: his wide, wild eyes, his wheezing breaths, the way his dirty hands paw at a large, waxy leaf, tearing it to shreds. I know that if I give this boy what he wants, he's mine.

In three slow steps I'm standing right in front of where he sits, enjoying the way his eyes flicker between my body and the treasure I hold in my hand, not knowing which he wants the most. Gently, intimately, I slide a cigarette from the packet. With the other hand I cup his chin lightly, bringing it up so his eyes meet mine. Is he handsome? With the desperation in his face it's hard to tell. My fingers press against his jaw, parting his lips, and I put the cigarette between them. My smile turns into something sexier, and I raise an eyebrow as I murmur, "it's a pleasure to be of service." The lighter flickers alive in a warm gasp and I can feel him dragging mercilessly with the hand still pressing his jaw. Here is the boy I've been looking for the whole time I've been back in the Capitol. The one who's so easy to control.

ooc: none; theme: link; table by ghosty;