No More {Caffeine} For You // {Fallon & Chaos}
Feb 14, 2017 0:33:39 GMT -5
Post by Cameo {RIP Charlie} on Feb 14, 2017 0:33:39 GMT -5
Coffee rises to the brim of my mug, and guilt swims through my veins; this remorse was not due to my current decisions, but rather my previous ones and my ongoing cravings. Because beer had chilled my every mug these past few days within the Capitol. And my tongue twitches with a desire for more alcohol. Except forgiveness has been exchanged between Lightning and I, and I don’t not wish to reverse this progress. Ultimate survival will be threatened in too soon of the future, and my Brother’s correct- we must prepare in every possible aspect. Unfortunately, a hangover will do me no good within the Arena. If I don’t halt my intake now, there’s no guarantee I will the night before.
So the warm, brown liquid glides down my throat in a somewhat satisfying way. Still no amount of sugar will quench my thirst for even a smidgen of whiskey within this concoction. Regretfully, -after my innocent drink and far too healthy of a breakfast is concluded- a flask instinctively slides into the back brim of my pants in my journey down to the bottom floor. The simple closeness of the liquor provides a comfort. Brutal flashes of my Siblings’ distaste for my actions of following Lightning in volunteering plagues my thoughts.
My eyes roam around the vast center where other Tributes are performing various practices. Training must be consumed by myself, while I can’t snap from the negativity overtaking my brain. Within my assumptions, these reminders of my Siblings’ criticisms would be flushed with a simple gulp of my flask. But I can’t accept to caving. Perhaps if my mind becomes too overwhelmed by them, though I should probably refrain from allowing that to crumble me as well. What will be the final straw? Hopefully a knuckle-armed spar will gift a pleasant distraction.
Fists carve into my current Trainer’s chest with pristine strategy- fake with the right, strike with the dominant left. Though my defense is weak this morning. Far too many punches are gently tapping against my unguarded exterior. “What’s going on Chaos? You’re not supposed to be getting worse.” The Trainer questions, stepping from the friendly combat.
“It’s not like I can get better.” I cockily joke, while my soul is twisting internally. Always knew that alcohol increases my ability in nearly any form. Still my dissatisfaction doesn’t play upon my expression; as my only true Trainer always pressed to remain appearing strong, even when it’s not true. “Spar again tomorrow? I’m just not feeling it today.” A wave brushes off my departure.
Another single thing is not going to be improved with me being sober; I can’t concentrate, properly retaliate, or even absorb necessary knowledge under this clearness. An empty dinning room conceals me. And without a second thought, a moderate sip from my flask eases my nerves. Air flutters past my lips in a settling sigh. This is when I notice that this meal area is not as vacant as it first appeared.
One of the female Brunettes from Five is spotted beneath a table, as if using it for a sanctuary shelter. Instincts jolt me in slow steps towards her. I’m the Mother of my House. And though she doesn’t share the same roof of the O’Hana clan, there’s an urge to be caring. Lightning claims to be an adult now, not requiring of protection. The rest that are hungry for my aid are countless of miles away. I can only hope for a mere moment my nurturing instincts can assist.
My knees bend, and concerned eyes glisten against hers’. “Hey, is everything okay Sweetie?” Automatically combs through my calmed vocals, as I’m swallowed by a situation one of my Siblings would ignite back Home.
