The Persistence of Naivety :: [Cricket + Z-Boi // Blitz]

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The Persistence of Naivety :: [Cricket + Z-Boi // Blitz] Jan 3, 2017 18:13:51 GMT -5

Post by L△LIA on Jan 3, 2017 18:13:51 GMT -5

[attr="class","CricketContainer"]

[attr="class","CricketTitle"]don’t care what you say to me
i'ma bite your feelings out

[attr="class","CricketContent"]

In another lifetime it wouldn't be questionable whether or not Cricket Antoinette is a terrible person. Every flaw of her soul would be laid bare. Instead fortune delivered her into a world that praises even the most violent of her ambitions and she is beloved by those who do not know her. Stranger still, is the love of those who do.

This man should know better... but she waltzes into his tent as if her hips were the axis of the world. It's easy to forget terrible things when looking at a pretty girl and with every year that passes Cricket only becomes more of a distraction. In youth she was naive, but in this moment she knows perfectly well who she is and who he is. Theirs is a history of her being unkind and him loving her anyway. "I'm going back to the Capitol early. Tomorrow morning." She wasn't supposed to leave again for months, not when she'd come home mere weeks ago. "Arbor's all in a fuss over the suitcases."

Despite the murders she has committed and her lack of remorse, perhaps the worst thing she has ever done is this. Leaving, again and again. The others she slaughtered only once and quickly, but her leaving kills him every time. She doesn't realize. This is simply who she is.

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

The Persistence of Naivety :: [Cricket + Z-Boi // Blitz] Jan 3, 2017 19:22:16 GMT -5

Post by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ on Jan 3, 2017 19:22:16 GMT -5

the worst things in life come free to us.

He was crooked as ever, in the way that his heart ticked.

They all knew it, the others that performed in the little freak show that their Zombie Boy, Cornelius Bones was headed towards disaster again and again. Despite their love for their famed little Creak in The Night, their Cricket, they all knew the way that she held him on a little silver chain.

Still, he loved her all the same. Ever since she'd finally come home a few years ago she'd owned him. The weeks that she was gone for the games were weeks he'd spend holed up in his tent, pining away for the love that was gone; the love that was only ever half shared.

When asked, everyone could definitely confirm that they were a 'Thing'. when asked to explain what kind of 'Thing' they were, no one ever really had a straight answer, not even the Bones boy himself. Only Cricket knew what they were and she'd never tell.

He was lying on his back on the carpeted floor when she waltzed into his tent that day as if she owned it. She did, of course. Her claws were sunk deep into him and he was happy to admit it. If it was possible to worship a person, he did it with a full heart. He raised a hand and placed it on her leg, unable to feel the softness of her skin or the warmth radiating off of it but needing to touch all the same. It was hard to believe that she was real sometimes, she was so beautiful.

A coldness grew in his heart at her words and his hand fell away. The book he had been enthralled with upon her arrival was placed carefully beside him as he sat up.

"You said you weren't leaving for months yet," he said quietly, no accusations in his voice, "Why so soon?"

She'd been better at keeping her word lately, this was unexpected, almost hurtful.

"If I've upset you, please tell me."

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The Persistence of Naivety :: [Cricket + Z-Boi // Blitz] Jan 4, 2017 15:20:07 GMT -5

Post by L△LIA on Jan 4, 2017 15:20:07 GMT -5

[attr="class","Cricket1Container"]

[attr="class","CricketTitle"]and if you love me, love me
but you never let me go

[attr="class","Cricket1Content"]

The easiest way to break a promise is for the sake of a new one. It's true that she'd said she wouldn't leave — not yet, not now. Even if she won't speak the words, there is some intrinsic part of her that knows she is needed here and not just by him. Cirque de la Mort wilts without her. The face of every performer and audience member becomes less, dimming in the absence of the show's most radiant star. The rest of the world never seems to realize, but she is less without all of them too.

Ever since she stood victorious within a ring of fire, proof perfect at her feet that no other body could do what hers can, she has missed that moment. There was an incredible sense of new beginning, but she has yet to figure out what for as she chases an undefinable high. Champagne, gaudy celebrations, and the praise of a legion of fans proved more of a distraction than a real source of feeling. From party to party and the Capitol to the Districts, there were only temporary flares.

It seems mirrored in his eyes. Pain or pleasure, he's addicted to the ability to feel when she's with him... or when she's gone. The fluttering girl within wants to find that feeling in him too, but there is a promise that threatens to be bigger than the two of them. This is something she didn't know she wanted until it was given to her and now she's mad with it. "It's not you," it never has been, "it's —" She gasps without realizing, a thousand nakom whirling through her veins as her heart races. Her face is alight, a full moon. "They want me," as if he doesn't, "as Gamemaker."

She bursts. Throwing her arms around him, joyful laughter overflows from her lips and into the warm crook of his neck, echoing brightly. The stage has always belonged to her and once upon a time she performed upon the biggest one. Now they have offered it to her again and not just as a player, but as its god.

Fire burns all around her, promising.

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Last Edit: Jan 6, 2017 17:20:10 GMT -5 by L△LIA

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

The Persistence of Naivety :: [Cricket + Z-Boi // Blitz] Jan 8, 2017 21:26:45 GMT -5

Post by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ on Jan 8, 2017 21:26:45 GMT -5

Z O M B I E B O Y.

His role in the Freak Show was to feel pain, something that he couldn't do. He was well versed in the art of searching for it. He'd spent hours bent over books, looking for a way to feel anything but numb. Hours spent searching had been fruitless. No matter how high or low he looked, he hadn't ever been able to find anything that actually hurt him. He had felt so apart for so long.

Then she had twisted herself into his life, bending over backward with perfect precision, unlocking something within him.

Cricket Antoinette was first in loving him but she was also first in causing him pain. Maybe that's why he loved her so much though; before her he'd never really felt anything other than that numbness. It had encased him. The moment she'd pressed her hand so forcefully into him that he felt the pressure he'd known.

Even now, as she was talking about leaving him again, this time for months, he couldn't feel anything but adoration.

Her smile was barely contained, he knew how much this meant to her. She'd fallen in love with the lights and sounds of the Capitol the first time she'd stepped foot in it and he knew that he was a close second at best. She lived for applause and attention and his had never been quite enough for her.

He was okay with it. It was fine.

He puts a hand on the back of her head, the other supporting her on his lap so she wouldn't fall in her excitement. Her breath should have felt warm on his neck, her arms around him warm. All he was aware of when he shut his eyes was the weight of her, the pressure pushing him into the ground.

"Oh darling that's...." he didn't know how to finish the thought. Insane?

Though she'd promised herself that nothing was untouchable for her, that she did not fear anything, that nothing remained from her time in the games, he lay awake at night and watched her twist and turn with nightmares. Even if she refused to admit it, he knew that she felt something. He hadn't fallen in love with a corpse.

He was the dead body, the bobbing apple.

She was vibrancy, life.

This was going to kill her.

"Utterly fantastic," he finished softly.

"how long this time?"

How many weeks and months would he be without her this time?

Last Edit: Jan 8, 2017 22:03:59 GMT -5 by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

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The Persistence of Naivety :: [Cricket + Z-Boi // Blitz] Jan 27, 2017 18:31:11 GMT -5

Post by L△LIA on Jan 27, 2017 18:31:11 GMT -5

[attr="class","Cricket2Container"]

[attr="class","Cricket2Title"]Love's either got you over heels or overdosed
It's got you off your feet or on your toes

[attr="class","Cricket2Content"]

A math equation for time attempts to organize her thoughts, but joy waves it away without much thought. "Through the Quell... a year? Just under, I suppose. There's so much to be done to make it how it should be. I want everything to be right." She never can see the wrongs through the rights, forgetting anything that is less than ideal, as if whatever she's focusing on in the moment is the only thing in all of existence. This time, more than any other, she is staring into the eyes of a dream and the dream is kissing her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids. It's not about the Capitol. It has never been about the Capitol. There is a feeling of reaching for something new, greater. This is the only kind of growth she knows. "Come with me." Maybe now more than ever before.

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Last Edit: Jan 27, 2017 18:34:00 GMT -5 by L△LIA

( C H A R A C T E R S )

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

The Persistence of Naivety :: [Cricket + Z-Boi // Blitz] Jan 29, 2017 19:23:39 GMT -5

Post by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ on Jan 29, 2017 19:23:39 GMT -5

Z O M B I E B O Y.

Go with her?

She knew as well as he did that he couldn't do as she asked. There it was, the pain that he was so often searching for, that she so often gave him, eating away at him, deconstructing the ink on his skin and eating away at his insides. She sped up the decomposing process manually, fingers dancing over the lines that made him up in spades.

"Go with you?" he murmured, placing his hands on either side of her face, thumbs smoothing out the crows feet created from that joyful smile. "My darling, if only I could."

She knew as well as he did that the district was someplace that he could never leave again. The last time was a miracle, a strange gift. The entire freak show had gone with them and they'd performed for the Capitolites. When they'd left, he'd stayed behind with her, content to live quietly in her shadow, standing on the sidelines at parties, uncomfortably drinking as men and women stared at him in drunken awe over the art that was his body.

He'd never been comfortable there, preferring the comfort of his tent and the quiet lantern-lit nights in two. He'd left, barely noticed by her and ever since he'd longed for her in silence, colour only blossoming in the short months that she was home.

"I am not a Victor."

I am not important.