bloody mary | { daniela/laurel } jb | Hunger Games: The RPG

bloody mary | { daniela/laurel } jb Oct 2, 2017 16:04:44 GMT -5

Post by d4 tati pelotte [azalea] on Oct 2, 2017 16:04:44 GMT -5

l a u r e l r a s o i o

We have felt the pain of our own razors. Slipped them up our sleeves, tucked them away into the linings of small caps and hidden them in the soles of our shoes. Jenoah was one of those people that just knew. It's a rare thing in this family for we all have lock and key mouths, half of us living in fear of what the other half will think if we dare to say a word. Jenoah was one of those people who put his heart and soul into everything he did, he tried, but still he managed to freeze and end up back here in the ground with nothing more than a razor at the foot of his grave.

When he fell, my whole religion did. Fell to shit, shattered, and I'm still walking on the pieces no matter how carefully I tread. I used to think that this is just how it would be now; dead brother, I guess that you feel the weight of that forever. But I came to the realisation that I am my own worst enemy when it comes to pain like this. Time doesn't heal anything, only you can bandage the damage because you're the one who has to be brave enough to accept some kind of defeat.

I kinda want to flip everyone off in here. Peacekeepers, escorts—they all failed when Jenoah was here and I'm not sure that they're going to be able to save Daniela. Even though Shelby Leviane walked these walls and floors only a year or two ago, Eight still seems riddled with the burden of the trials and errors of its past attempts. Ghosts caught in our lungs, we inhale an ounce of hope and turn it into a dream, but only for a second, only for a second before we exhale and it becomes all smoke and mirrors.

I look at her, I understand. I get the pressure to amount to something more than a criminal, to make a name for yourself and not just for 'Ripred' or our father. But I'm a realist, and it clouds my vision because when I look at Daniela, I see twenty-three other teens that she will have to go through before she finds herself back here. Greying clouds above are sure to foreshadow disappointment in a week or so, but that could be enough time for Daniela to buy her life back. I'll add my two cents and try to make the deal easier.

"You know there's no God now, so you don't have any of that baggage." I tell her, hands in my pockets. My little sister, my little sister that I'm supposed to protect. "Live for yourself, and if it comes to it, die for yourself. Nothing you do will be in vain." I'll beg, borrow, cheat and steal to make sure that her all does not amount to nothing. "And I don't know what the others have said but forget it. It's going to be tough shit when you get in there, we all saw what Jenoah went through."

There's a pause, I think, and then I look her dead in the eye.

"I don't believe in God, but I believe in you. You need to do the same."

bloody mary | { daniela/laurel } jb Oct 4, 2017 14:50:58 GMT -5

Post by d7m fraser birk ♚ frankel on Oct 4, 2017 14:50:58 GMT -5

[googlefont=Baloo Thambi:400]

D A N I E L A

There is a tear in the wound. A resistant infection, on a destructive trail, no amount of treatment will heal it now. Everything is inflamed and messy, nothing is clear, the whole family is obscured. Nothing was ever going to be simple but there is nowhere back. Jenoah got the ball rolling and now it’s in my field. To keep it or to kick it far? Wherever it goes, it will take a path of chaos and not one I will be able to witness but experience.

I am alone for now, for the first time ever, I have cut the ties. I could see Jenoah in the games; he was still burdened by the strings that that father has wrapped around his fingers. He escaped too late and Ansgar Todd was the one to execute his punishment.

Bravery pushed me to get out early but where too now? Does bravery have a map, a plan, and an actual idea on where to go next? Bravery has just opened the door, I got out early but I opened that door early. Death wasn’t even knocking nonetheless, his invitation has been sent. I just hope it gets as lost.

Predictable words poured from Caimile’s lips, one by one; I am going to have to endure their pleas and promises of prayers. Each of them represents a part of me, Caimile being the part that I am leaving behind. It will be ironic if he is the last one, my father, the one to round it all up; my father, the one with his destructive fist. The ball that Jenoah got rolling, he is the one that made it. Maybe he kicked it into Jenoah’s field. The rumours, the rumours that I hope to be false, they could have started this all. They did, they must have.

”Little princess, come back home.”

Was Jenoah his prince?

They will tell me what to do and how to do it. Snippets of advice on how to survive, all regurgitated from this day three years ago. Did he listen to them? Should I? For half my life, I have only ever listened to half of their words. Father even stopped his orders for me, the little chores that used to fill my time. Small rebellions without little punishment, this is my biggest yet. Not have I only abandoned them but spat in the face of their ideals.

Sweet and innocent Daniela, they are so blinded by my made up persona.

Caimile slips away, leaving a shadow in the room but it is not long until light floods it. Laurel, the only one who is an ounce similar to me. Some of her words have bitten at my skin in the past but at least her ideals are cured from father’s manipulation.

"You know there's no God now, so you don't have any of that baggage." I just sit back in my chair and wait for the scripted speech. I love my sister but the whole I hope you come back thing will be repeated and repeated, every time someone steps through that door. "And I don't know what the others have said but forget it. It's going to be tough shit when you get in there, we all saw what Jenoah went through." I push myself off the seat and step closer to Laurel. My sister has gone off script; these are not words that I could predict.

"I don't believe in God, but I believe in you. You need to do the same."

I believed in myself when I stepped onto that stage. I believed in myself when I threw the hat into the crowd.

But do I believe in myself now? Was this a brave thing to do or a reckless way to rebel?

I cross my arms, resting them on my stomach. I want to relish in her ’words of wisdom’ but instead the lines of a past Laurel are repeated in my head. ”You said Jenoah is just a rotten body now.” I recite that evening, the two of us alone as the rest of the world was asleep. ”Do you believe that is going to be me too? A stinking decomposing body. That is all I can believe now.”