Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye (Jasper Oneshot)
Nov 12, 2016 2:20:10 GMT -5
Post by MrMista on Nov 12, 2016 2:20:10 GMT -5
Day One
He sits with a mixture of emotions, eyes glued to the screen as twenty four souls throw themselves into chaos.
He watches a thief fill his hands not with the possessions of the unsuspecting, but with the blood of the soon-to-be deceased.
He watches a thief fill his hands not with the possessions of the unsuspecting, but with the blood of the soon-to-be deceased.
He notices the barren wrist and wonders what it means.
He figures the watch that should be there now rests in a trash heap, an unwanted reminder of emotional turmoil.
He grimaces as metal meets flesh and the tribute’s team helps avenge the fallen.
He wonders whether the action is one fueled by vengeance or mere bloodlust.
He hurts, because he figures that the person on the screen is no longer the man who brought spontaneity into his life.
He hopes, because the boy he wants to see return home survives his first day unscathed.
Day Two
He takes the latest possible shift, making sure to see whether the alliance which holds his interests survives the morning.
He shakes his head at the sight of them still wearing their ridiculous costumes, heels and all.
He smiles, because the one who matters most is better off ridiculous than dead.
He clenches his fists when he notices that the two teams in Rift Valley will soon cross paths, understanding that such an encounter can only end in violence.
He bites his lip when his premonition comes true, and the bloodshed begins anew.
He relaxes when he sees the girl from District Ten fall and fail to get back up.
He smirks as her allies skedaddle.
He laughs when the thief fails to live up to his title.
He thinks, “Perhaps he hasn’t changed after all.”
He knows that he’s just deluding himself.
He raises an eyebrow and questions the burglar’s next moves, the almost ceremonial act of placing a card on a dead body.
He hurts, because the boy on the screen cares more about preserving the lives of others than his own.
He hopes, because despite the other tributes’ best efforts, the one who has to return survives another day unscathed.
Day Three
He closes up shop early so that he can take his place in the family living room.
He knows the horrors this day might bring and paces around, worried about what is to come.
He almost turns off the screen when the man for whom he is rooting encounters the group adorned with the cornucopia’s wealth.
He fears for the lives of the thief and his allies, knowing that their odds of escaping alive are lower than they’ve ever been.
He grips the edge of his seat as the parties begin to trade blows.
He feels guilty not really for being happy that even though people are losing blood by the second, the one he has his eyes on remains untouched.
He lets the wave of emotion rush over him as they push through to another victory, felling the male from District Four.
He feels angry at the group for not pursuing their weakened opponents, even though doing so would risk the lives of those he is trying to protect.
He watches the District Twelve male repeat the prior day’s ritual of leaving a card with a dead body.
He wonders how long he’ll be able to maintain the illusion that he cares for the dead, how long he’ll be able to go before he becomes responsible for a body on the ground.
He hurts, because he knows that once that point occurs, the boy he knows will no longer be alive in the way he was before departing for the Capitol.
He hopes, because, for now, he is.
Day Four
He does not go to work that day.
He runs his fingers through his hair on repeat, a nervous tick that put his worry on full display.
He knows beyond a doubt that something terrible is coming.
He doesn’t trust the Gamemakers to take it easy on the largest alliance left alive.
He sees how right he is, and he curses himself for it.
He cheers the group on, falsely believing they might all be allowed to survive just one more day.
He digs his nails into his knees as he watches the abominations deliver blow after blow to the children on the screen.
He realizes that the monstrosities won’t fall until one of the alliance members lies lifeless at their feet.
He curses the Gamemakers for doing this to them him.
He hopes that of the four, it is the crazed career, the fiery redhead, or the joker from Eight who will make the ultimate sacrifice and appease the Capitolites’ cruelty.
He watches in slow motion as one of the beasts steals the thief’s soul from his throat, and
he f
a
l
l
s.
He gasps.
He doesn’t believe his eyes.
He stops breathing.
He believes it.
He cries out.
He YELLS.
He sheds a single tear.
He sheds a single tear.
He hurts.
He does not see the giants topple.
He does not hear the cannon boom.
He does not hope, because Mitchell Laws is dead, taking the newfound uncertainty in Jasper Dandarian’s life with him.
