undertow // justice + alyria // VT
Aug 30, 2016 4:06:51 GMT -5
Post by ali on Aug 30, 2016 4:06:51 GMT -5
Alyria Hammersmith
I'm bigger than my body I'm colder than this home
I'm meaner than my demons I'm bigger than these bones And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me." I can't help this awful energy
I'm meaner than my demons I'm bigger than these bones And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me." I can't help this awful energy
Goddamn right, you should be scared of me
Who is in control?
Who is in control?
Beneath the lights, the glitter, the gentle scent of Gin's and Tonics was the a suffocating emotion; it clung to the air like a plague, each breath a body took inhaled it deep within themselves causing their stomachs to twist, heaving with the sensation that something wasn't quite right. Alyria could see it, in their faces, past the plastered grins and alcohol enduced giddiness, she could feel it too.
The fear.
Fear writhed and spat beneath the gentle surface of the ocean of excitement that washed over the room, like an undertow, those who tentaviely treaded water at the surface did not know what lay beneath them. A silent storm, dragging at their feet, threatening to bring them under at a moments notice; all it took was the wrong move and...but the watchful eyes of men in white suits, peacekeepers, kept their heads above water.
Their fear was, somewhat, instinctal. There was a killer in their mists afterall, and unlike most killers, this one was well known. His face had been shown across Panem for all to see for the last 2 weeks during the Games and therfore after in the countdown to the Victor of the Hunger Games arriving in their merry District; while many were angry, in greiving for the District 2 tributes who had lost their lives, people were excited to see a Victor as they were every year.
Yet, they all feared a killer in the flesh, it was something coded into their DNA, it was something you could not get rid of; but Alyria did not fear the Victor. Sure, the gene was there, the gene to trigger the uneasy sensation one would get if they thought they saw a shadow moving in their empty house, or hear a voice when they knew were alone or found themselves engulfed in darkness. For she was watching everyone else with close attention, from beneath the rip tide that threatened to drag them under; she was a shark, hunting for prey but really she just wanted to watch people squirm.
It had taken a lot to get herself into the party with the elites of the District. A lot of money had to be exchanged to get through those doors; Alyria enjoyed a party on occasion, the glitz and glam associated with it all, particularly the alcohol associated with the parties but that was not the real reason she was here. In part, she wanted to meet Justice. She wanted to talk to him, here his words. She wanted to know what it was like for a killer, so young, to have fame thrusted upon him. She also- partially- had a sense that the peacekeepers had their suspcions and she wanted to watch them squirm.
As her lips pressed against the curve of her glass, allowing the pale liquid to bob against her lips, her brown eyed gaze cast over the crowd; Justice Fray was late. She cocked her eyebrow, an almost shrug to the obvious situation before her, it was apparently the fashionable thing to do in the Capitol. Alyria could see some people, in particular Peacekeepers, growing inpatient, their boots tapping silently against the floor, eyes darting around, waiting for the announcement of the arrival of the Victor of the 73rd Hunger Games.
Alyria lazed back in her seat, taking one last slip of her drink.
The fear.
Fear writhed and spat beneath the gentle surface of the ocean of excitement that washed over the room, like an undertow, those who tentaviely treaded water at the surface did not know what lay beneath them. A silent storm, dragging at their feet, threatening to bring them under at a moments notice; all it took was the wrong move and...but the watchful eyes of men in white suits, peacekeepers, kept their heads above water.
Their fear was, somewhat, instinctal. There was a killer in their mists afterall, and unlike most killers, this one was well known. His face had been shown across Panem for all to see for the last 2 weeks during the Games and therfore after in the countdown to the Victor of the Hunger Games arriving in their merry District; while many were angry, in greiving for the District 2 tributes who had lost their lives, people were excited to see a Victor as they were every year.
Yet, they all feared a killer in the flesh, it was something coded into their DNA, it was something you could not get rid of; but Alyria did not fear the Victor. Sure, the gene was there, the gene to trigger the uneasy sensation one would get if they thought they saw a shadow moving in their empty house, or hear a voice when they knew were alone or found themselves engulfed in darkness. For she was watching everyone else with close attention, from beneath the rip tide that threatened to drag them under; she was a shark, hunting for prey but really she just wanted to watch people squirm.
It had taken a lot to get herself into the party with the elites of the District. A lot of money had to be exchanged to get through those doors; Alyria enjoyed a party on occasion, the glitz and glam associated with it all, particularly the alcohol associated with the parties but that was not the real reason she was here. In part, she wanted to meet Justice. She wanted to talk to him, here his words. She wanted to know what it was like for a killer, so young, to have fame thrusted upon him. She also- partially- had a sense that the peacekeepers had their suspcions and she wanted to watch them squirm.
As her lips pressed against the curve of her glass, allowing the pale liquid to bob against her lips, her brown eyed gaze cast over the crowd; Justice Fray was late. She cocked her eyebrow, an almost shrug to the obvious situation before her, it was apparently the fashionable thing to do in the Capitol. Alyria could see some people, in particular Peacekeepers, growing inpatient, their boots tapping silently against the floor, eyes darting around, waiting for the announcement of the arrival of the Victor of the 73rd Hunger Games.
Alyria lazed back in her seat, taking one last slip of her drink.
