(speak your mind) | shadowless vs mutts, day 2

d4 tati pelotte [azalea]
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(speak your mind) | shadowless vs mutts, day 2 Jul 5, 2018 17:53:10 GMT -5

Quote

Post by d4 tati pelotte [azalea] on Jul 5, 2018 17:53:10 GMT -5

CASSIA
ORETIO

A starless sky houses nothing more than emptiness and the shards of whatcouldhavebeens. The face of a single girl signals that the bloodbath was bare; the cannons sounding must have been from my heart trying to beat out of my chest rather than the cutting short of lives. I hold myself close, pinching myself every time I get close of drifting off into the night and losing my sanity to a dreamworld.

Part of me feels responsible. I am one of the reasons this area is home to devastation, I am one of the reasons that one of the little tributes is probably staring up at the same starless sky as me, waiting for a mere glimpse of a shooting star so that they can wish to feel their mother's touch again. It is the thoughts like these that tug on my heartstrings, threatening to play a tune to move me to tears. Even Zion has proven himself to be a liability; in the night he becomes only a silhouette of his former self, walking the walls of the darkness with ease and as if he has seen the world and done so with the bravest of faces. It worries me - what if he wakes up and that's it, what if he wakes up and it's all over just like that?

Part of me feels responsible, part of me feels liable. He's my ally, my friend and the night can be an unforgiving place. Whilst one part of me lies awake because I refuse to be robbed of my life, another lies awake because I refuse to let it happen to someone else. The lines between where I defined my strength and cast away my weakness are slowly becoming blurred.

I don't like it.

And when Zion surrenders to the illusions of his imagination, I thank myself for the pinches. I get up and go with him because I want to protect him from any potential horrors. I don't want to feel that strong feeling of guilt if the worst should happen. So I pick myself up, pick up our stuff and tiptoe into the bleak midnight with him. The moonlight illuminates him and his path, the vulnerability of his tendency slowly become evermore present when we teeter between safety and danger; the sound of the waves lapping the shore speaking volumes of hurt. I close my eyes for a split second to try and become a ruler of the waves but I hear a trip, a fall and open my eyes to see that Zion has gone.

The moonlight casts a solemn glow on the waves, and Zion's head pokes out of the water like a ghost that dares to be seen. He scrambles for silence through the splashing, and it feels like one of those surreal moments where it is life or death. The monster in me would leave him, let him drown and wait for the body to wash up on the shore. But the every ferocity, there is a glimmer of femininity; a natural inclination towards being motherly kicks in and I want to save him, I want to help him. My doubts are kissed away by the salt spray of the ocean, and I fall into the arms of the open water and swim after him.

The waves offer no warm embrace, only a cold strangle. As we struggle against the salts of the earth, we wash up on the foggy beach of a rocky island. It takes a single glance up at the structure to recognise the landform as something that resembles a human skull - the mist adding an ominous sense that tingles my spine. It feels like something is lurking, and it feels like something is watching. My stomach drops - but in this moment, I have time to count my blessings because there is no threat ready and waiting. I look to Zion and give half a smile.

"I almost had a heart attack. Whatever was going on in your head, it must've felt far too real for your own good." I choke up a little water on the dark shores, eyeing the footprints in the sand. My own mind runs wild with who or what they could belong to but - I'm not stupid to seek danger when it actively seeks my death. "Your own good matters, especially when we're all trying to be bad."

The sunrise sees itself in, droplets of liquid gold dancing on the sea as it peels away the black of the night. The scene lights up, and we explore a little in peace until the distant squawk of a bird circling above tears the silence to shreds. "What the..." I raise a hand over my eyes to glance at the skies with a hope of locating the source. Very quickly, I find it - it seems impossible to miss.

The enormous bird swoops in from above; it has a mouth that looks as if it has been sharpened to a lethal point, and so I waste no time in making my own point against the creature before it can retaliate.

"Size doesn't matter when you've got a bird brain."

[ cassia oretio d12f attacks panem pelican ; spiked blunt ]

bggrHGN9spiked blunt

[ deep gash on stomach +9.0 damage, +1 strength ]

spiked blunt

Last Edit: Jul 5, 2018 17:56:45 GMT -5 by d4 tati pelotte [azalea]

L△LIA
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BOOM SH△KALAKA

(speak your mind) | shadowless vs mutts, day 2 Jul 10, 2018 16:30:49 GMT -5

Quote

Post by L△LIA on Jul 10, 2018 16:30:49 GMT -5

[attr="class","Zion1Container"]

[attr="class","Zion1Title"]training wheels to human shields
can you hold my hand?

[attr="class","Zion1Content"]

The dark turns to bright white light. It swallows up Zion’s entire world, every tree disappearing and then the horizon, the earth, the sky, his own hands, feet, body. Everything is gone and he can feel where his skin should be, but there is nothing there. The sensation of turning to search his non-existent surroundings becomes strange when he’s not certain how he’s moving. Is he moving? Is anything? Somehow he’s convinced that yes, he is turning in circles. It’s just that instead of the knowing that remains when his eyes are tightly closed, he has opened his eyes too wide and become blinded. If he reaches out surely his fingers will begin to find things again, maybe rough bark or damp leaves. Maybe the sharp end of a weapon.

When the world is this saturated with light, it becomes what he imagines the inside of a prism or the edge of a rainbow would be like. Perhaps that’s what has devoured him whole. The white plays tricks on him, feeling like so much color shimmering all around. It flexes yellow at the edges of the nothingness and he tries to chase it, but then there is a promise of blue and it sways him until red calls out. Circles. By trying to go everywhere, he becomes acutely aware of his inability to go anywhere, of his skinlessness, bonelessness, bloodlessness. He tries to scream, but the air is mute all around and it is like being smothered. The fist of the sun itself is shoved down his throat until it tastes of incineration.

Scorching his lungs, the salt of the water forcing itself past teeth and nostrils wakes Zion to a reality of being surrounded by another blinding terror. Everything is ocean and he does not know which way is up. Yet, this is not the first time he has awoken drowning in a river or a lake after walking right over the edge of a bridge. This is how he learned to swim — figure it out or die. The struggle of disorientation pulls him under and it would take him this time because the ocean is too different from the calm of a lake or the narrow path of a river, but a hand hooks itself into the collar of his pajamas and hauls him back to the surface. Cassia.

He doesn’t know why she saves him. It doesn’t benefit her potential survival — she has the potential — not when he’s the definition of a useless liability. Surely it would be better to let him drown so there’s one less body standing between her and home. He wants to go home, where it’s safe and warm and drowning in his sleep is his biggest fear instead of something that feels more like relief.

When they wash up on shore the first thing Zion does is open his mouth to say thank you, I know you didn’t have to and vomit into the sand until he thinks his body is turning itself inside out. The reek of bile mingles with sour seaweed drying out in the morning sun and it does nothing to calm his sickness. He continues retching until he is so empty that it hurts as badly as drowning did. There is a pink tinge of blood and maybe it has simply dropped down from a wound on his face, but —

“I almost had a heart attack. Whatever was going on in your head, it must’ve felt far too real for your own good. Your own good matters, especially when we’re all trying to be bad.”

Bleary eyed from the sickness, he searches his body for what’s left of his voice and finds it hiding in one of his littlest toes. “I don’t know what’s real, if I ever did. I still feel like I’m waiting to wake up.” He speaks as if his tongue has been chewed up, the tattered remains lolling around useless within his mouth. Collapsing on his back, exhaustion threatens to pull him back into the land of Nod as the sunrise paints the world into a muddle of new color.

Cassia sees the beasts before he does, the sound of her attacks bringing him back from the brink of passing out. Panic seizes his muscles and his body tries to curl into itself, only to realize it’s curling around his backpack instead. His backpack full of axes. His backpack full of bloody axes. Shame twists into his fear twists into his paranoia about who he is, if he could live his whole life without knowing he was capable of chopping off another person’s ear. What else doesn’t he know about himself? A bright white light is rising on the horizon and Zion can feel his body preparing to disappear again.

Happy When by Caitlyn Scarlett.

[Zion attacks Oculin, throwing axe]

W4e7dbwhthrowing axe

[10198 — Miss (Axe lost)]

[accuracy re-roll]

throwing axe

[10089 — Shallow Cut on Forearm // 3.5 damage]

[newclass=".Zion1Container"]width:450px; height:450px; background-position:center; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding:20px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".Zion1Title"]font-size:10px; text-transform:uppercase; margin-right:65px; margin-bottom:1px; [/newclass]
[newclass=".Zion1Content"]width:300px; height:0px; overflow:hidden; opacity:0.8; font-size:10px; text-align:justify; padding:1px 10px 0px 10px; -webkit-transition-duration:1s; transition-duration:1s; -moz-transition-duration:1s; [/newclass]
[newclass=".Zion1Container:hover .Zion1Content"]height:250px; overflow:auto; padding:10px; text-align:justify; -webkit-transition-duration:1s;transition-duration:1s; -moz-transition-duration:1s; [/newclass]throwing axe�throwing axe

Last Edit: Jul 10, 2018 16:42:42 GMT -5 by L△LIA

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

shrimp
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(speak your mind) | shadowless vs mutts, day 2 Jul 10, 2018 23:52:04 GMT -5

Quote

Post by shrimp on Jul 10, 2018 23:52:04 GMT -5

OCTAVIA THE OCULIN

She senses the movement before the bird does - but seeing that she has no real form of communication and is inherently a floating mass of nerves - not once does she lift a tentacle to warn it. And in a flash it's gone, liquid landing a bit too close to her for comfort. Slowly she bobs away, latching onto a nearby rock and pulling herself up, bit by bit.

With a plop, she solidifies her landing, tentacles feeling the rough sand and grit against the rock, the sun shining kind of on her, but not really. Through her, perhaps, is the better word for that. But no matter. She is one with the land, the land is one with her, maybe she'll find a nice microorganism for breakfast. That'd be nice.

Or instead, maybe something will attack her, as smoothness both thin and sharp makes a small laceration against one of her tentacles. And if an Oculin could talk, if an oculin could even really think, she'd definitely have a two word response.

Oh, shit.

Tentacles lash out towards the direction of the attacker, quick and fast.

[attacks cassia; spiky tentacles (knife)]
6ISsE2Tzknife
[2141 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage]

knife

Last Edit: Jul 10, 2018 23:53:55 GMT -5 by shrimp

d4 tati pelotte [azalea]
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(speak your mind) | shadowless vs mutts, day 2 Jul 11, 2018 18:03:57 GMT -5

Quote

Post by d4 tati pelotte [azalea] on Jul 11, 2018 18:03:57 GMT -5

CASSIA
ORETIO

The golden spikes of the new weapon slash against the bird beast with great ease, and I watch as it falls flat on the ground. The feathers turn mangy in the heat, the bird quickly being covered by a light dusting of dark sand that is carried through the air on the wings of the wind. I look to the blood on my weapon and down to its corpse - knowing it cannot have been that easy, surely.

But alas, birds are no chicks. They fly the nest when they have to, not when they want to. There's a sense of acceptance that comes with the latter; you've built yourself up and feel as if you can conquer the highest of heights, sing into the shallows and press your ear against the echoes of everyone who has ever lived. Pride is what fuels your hope and dreams in this case, an individualistic belief in oneself that isn't selfish or arrogant, rather one that offers your soul some stability when it stands in the wake of other people's breaking.

Owning that readiness is what makes you soar, not just fly. I sing my own praises to the moon with a howl in the darkness and the night carries them off into the world. Mother Nature listens to all, and someday, I know it, someday she'll sing a song back to me.

Zion's words stick out in my mind amongst the fatality of the beasts. He doesn't know what's real and he still feels like he's waiting to wake up. I contemplate the meaning of the statement for a moment or two whilst the remaining mutt tries to go in for a kill - it fails - and come to a sad conclusion. Is this all just one big nightmare for Zion? If he can't find a point where he can separate his past from his present, how long has his person been in pieces?

I frown when I look to the sand. My heartstrings start to play themselves and I feel an ounce of solemnity and that sudden sad realisation that makes someone speechless - all they can say is 'oh'. I realise that I barely know Zion at all, and whilst part of me picked him for my own benefit: a seemingly easy target to take the full force of attacks so that I'm still standing when all is said and done, part of me picked him because there was just something about him. There's only so much time in this arena; so much time that I can't let fly across the horizon, so much time that I can't let sit and do nothing, so much time that I can't let fall through my fingers like shapeless drops of water.

Today could be his, or my, last tomorrow. I want to know him before I have to let go of him.

I feel something. Odd, really, because it's in my heart and I told myself that success in these games comes from one's own mind, muscle and magnitude. Heart isn't in that list.

The whip of a tentacle through the air forces my teeth to grit and my pulse to race. The silence between us stays unbroken for now because amidst the airy-fairy thoughts and feelings going on, there remains a creature to be destroyed. My first glance at the beast makes clear its lethal capabilities; it looks far too dangerous to do any sort of good and if I'm the woman I make myself out to be, if I'm the girl that promised Twelve she'd get things done, I know that making pledges count is the only way to turn a promise to performance.

I remember how my family would warn me that people with good intentions make promises, and that people with good character keep them. What I do in the here and now acts as a testament to my character: Cassia Oretio as a person will be judged on what she can do, not what she thinks can do or wants to do. This is the thought that puts me back in the Hunger Games completely; this woman is a wolf.

And boy, I'm going to make this thing cry me out.

[ cassia oretio d12f attacks octavia the oculin ; spiked blunt ]

lx816Bk8spiked blunt

[ broken left shin +7.0 damage, +1 strength ]

spiked blunt

Last Edit: Jul 11, 2018 18:05:54 GMT -5 by d4 tati pelotte [azalea]

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(speak your mind) | shadowless vs mutts, day 2 Jul 12, 2018 13:48:33 GMT -5

Quote

Post by L△LIA on Jul 12, 2018 13:48:33 GMT -5

[attr="class","Zion2Container"]

[attr="class","Zion2Title"]life can't suck that bad
because, babe, you're rolling with me

[attr="class","Zion2Content"]

Tentacles writhe upon the sand. Zion doesn’t know where the trail of suckers leads, losing sight at the point where the creature’s arm passes beneath the dark waves, but it can’t be anywhere kind. There’s no telling what kind of body the limb connects to, at least there’s no telling for a landlocked boy from Five who has never seen anything like this. The slick, transparent flesh makes a move in his direction and he reaches for an axe without worrying over any ideas of guilt. This blood will not weigh on his conscience... if monsters even bleed.

The blade makes a small cut and the arm whirls away before Zion’s question can be answered. Whipping up and then back towards him in retribution, the Lyons boy tucks and rolls out of danger, realizing too late that he has abandoned Cassia directly in the path of attack. She saved his life this morning and this is how he repays her. "Cassia!" Empty stomach turning in on itself, there’s a sigh of relief when she avoids the tentacles, but no relaxation to accompany it. His attempt at scaring it away has done little to deter it and, if anything, he has only made it angry, but apparently it doesn't matter. There's no need to try to alert someone this capable. "Um..." Nevermind. "Good job! Lovely brandishing of your spiked weaponry! Unparalleled form!" His open mouth spews compliments because warnings are unnecessary. The situation is under control.

Back in the training center he remembers watching her handling weapons with ease, his mouth dropping open in equal parts amazement and dread. The skill with which she lands attacks made him think she was a career and finding out that she came here from the lowest district of them all was a revelation. Hope, maybe. A girl like this defies logic, but there's no denying her and Zion can't help catching himself staring now any more than he could help it then. It's like watching an action movie in not just surround sound, but surround screen. The awareness that he's little more than a spectator remains, as does the knowledge that he should be attempting to change that fact.

Rough by UPSAHL.

[Zion attacks Oculin, throwing axe]

OMceF7a1throwing axe

[10166 — Shallow Cut on Hand // 3.5 damage]

[newclass=".Zion2Container"]width:450px; height:450px; background-position:center; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding:20px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".Zion2Title"]font-size:10px; text-transform:uppercase; margin-right:65px; margin-bottom:1px; [/newclass]
[newclass=".Zion2Content"]width:300px; height:0px; overflow:hidden; opacity:0.8; font-size:10px; text-align:justify; padding:1px 10px 0px 10px; -webkit-transition-duration:1s; transition-duration:1s; -moz-transition-duration:1s; [/newclass]
[newclass=".Zion2Container:hover .Zion2Content"]height:250px; overflow:auto; padding:10px; text-align:justify; -webkit-transition-duration:1s;transition-duration:1s; -moz-transition-duration:1s; [/newclass]throwing axe

Last Edit: Jul 12, 2018 13:50:48 GMT -5 by L△LIA

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

shrimp Retired Staff 1,953 POSTS Pronouns: he/his last seen Oct 19, 2020 18:16:41 GMT -5	(speak your mind) \| shadowless vs mutts, day 2 Jul 12, 2018 14:55:19 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by shrimp on Jul 12, 2018 14:55:19 GMT -5 OCTAVIA THE OCULIN Jellyfish dab. Filler [attacks cassia; spiky tentacles (knife)] 9Z9YwIXWknife [result] knife

d4 tati pelotte [azalea]
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(speak your mind) | shadowless vs mutts, day 2 Jul 12, 2018 15:32:16 GMT -5

Quote

Post by d4 tati pelotte [azalea] on Jul 12, 2018 15:32:16 GMT -5

CASSIA
ORETIO

The creature slowly starts to become more and more mangled as Zion and I wage war on it; tentacles becoming crooked with each time we hit. The curling of the beast's body against the sand acts an illusion to mask its deadly secret - but I look into its eyes and know all too well that its darkness is far too dim to keep it alive until sunset. Another flesh wound against the creature and it moves towards us, desperately trying to retaliate in someway but falling short, once again - thankfully.

Zion comes forth into the creature's shadow, dashing a mark into a tentacle. It quickly pulls away, realising that though the boy looks sweet, he has a sick secret too. For a second, I think that the something about Zion is the fact that he is able to deceive, but he tucks himself away into the light and tries to get out of the scene as soon as possible. He shouts to me and my eyes flicker towards him, but not before I have to dodge the attack of the beast for a second time. A dart to the left and a duck to the right and it doesn't even come close.

"Um... Good job! Lovely brandishing of your spiked weaponry! Unparalleled form!" My eye twitches.

"This spiked weaponry may brandish itself up your ass." I admit, it is a little frustrating to have to do all the heavy lifting for the two of us. My womanly nature is more than enough, more than capable of tackling a creature of any kind yet there's a sense of comfort in knowing that there is someone you can fall back on. I sigh but can't blame myself; this is what I signed up for. "Just kidding," I add, because I don't want to run the risk of scaring him off and walking the world alone.

That is the conflict I find within. It's almost like there's a fight going on inside between survival instinct and maternal instinct; a responsibility to someone else and a responsibility to oneself. It seems an impossible feat to conquer because both are innate, part of my human nature and it seems even more impossible to defy human nature. The part of me that thirsts for bones and blood, that thrives on the metallic taste of blood on her tongue and prides herself on individualism and success becomes a tarnished monster in the moment - the sheer fact there is room for conflict means that somewhere, somehow, I've gone wrong.

I bite my tongue and swing; no, I think because I am definitely, completely, certainly still composed of mind, muscle and magnitude more so than anyone else here. My means of differentiation comes from coming into my own sense of maturity because it was necessary, not because the time was right. It is the characteristics like this that turn a tribute to a victor in the Hunger Games.

I let go for a moment. My heart beats on but I don't listen, I hear nothing but the voice of a girl who just wants to live her life. Hush the lullabies and drown out the screams - I want to listen to her because I want to honour her.

[ cassia oretio d12f attacks octavia the oculin ; spiked blunt ]

ss02eF0gspiked blunt

[ gash/bruised left wrist +3.0 damage ]

spiked blunt

Last Edit: Jul 12, 2018 15:34:19 GMT -5 by d4 tati pelotte [azalea]

L△LIA
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BOOM SH△KALAKA

(speak your mind) | shadowless vs mutts, day 2 Jul 12, 2018 21:28:03 GMT -5

Quote

Post by L△LIA on Jul 12, 2018 21:28:03 GMT -5

[attr="class","Zion3Container"]

[attr="class","Zion3Title"]i'm never gonna live this down
you may as well let me drown

[attr="class","Zion3Content"]

The bird and the... well, even laying dead on the black sand at his feet, Zion isn't sure what the other creature is. Both fell dead by Cassia's hand, but neither of them look as if they ever should have been alive in the first place. The splayed wings of the pelican are nearly twice as wide as either of them are tall and the bizarre transparent blob is enough to make him believe in aliens. The ocean doesn't feel so different from outer space to a boy who had never experience it before. It is full of secrets both beautiful and dangerous. It's also full of —

"Seaweed," he murmurs, picking up a handful of slimy green from the shore. This is one of the few useful things he learned from the training center, sorting through photographs of plants that could save him or at least save his stomach. His free hand absently clutches his belly, suddenly aware of the hunger pangs that battle after battle after battle had distracted him from. It feels stupid to worry about something so normal as eating here. Eating is something he has always done, three times a day without difficulty. There was never a shortage of food in the Lyons household and he finds himself wondering if he has ever gone this long without food, an entire day, even though he's educated enough to understand that this is still not what people mean when they mention hunger. He can't fathom. "Hungry?" Glancing at Cassia with a sheepish lack of self-confidence, he's eager to prove that he's useful for something, but uncertain how to prove himself to her when he can't prove himself to himself.

With an armload of seaweed tucked away, he glances at the bird and after imagining how embarrassing it would be to try and fail to move such a giant creature, he settles for picking up the significantly smaller weird thing. It shifts so awkwardly when he lifts it that he feels a sudden spark of remorse because it's relatable. If Zion were reborn to be even more strange, then he would be this jelly blob. Maybe this was his spirit animal, thinks the boy in the pink bunny pajamas, maybe the stylists got me all wrong. It jiggles with every step that he takes to the point where it starts to tickle, the fading remnants of his bunny nose twitching as he sniffles a giggle.

Navigating the ominous boulders, their subtle, deathly faces watch him as he picks through the rocks for scattered bits of driftwood or anything else semi-flammable looking that washed up upon this island. Piece after piece is scavenged and brought to the mouth of a yawning cave that appears to be the only shelter around. It takes numerous attempts at cracking the flint against the stones to get sparks enough to fly to start a small, nearly useless fire, but eventually he succeeds and the flames aren't anywhere near as impressive as his face. Zion beams as if the sun lives in his teeth. I did it. I made this. It might not be enough to boil water or protect from the chill of the night, but he sets up the seaweed and the strange creature Cassia killed to roast and it doesn't smell horrible.

Fog rolls in and he sits cross-legged on the sand, carefully tending the meager flames. Whatever this thing was, it wanted to kill them and now they're going to eat it. Hunting. The word crosses his mind and the memory of throwing his axe today brings back the memory of throwing his axe yesterday, a vision of blood and severed ears. "Cassia?" His voice is a solemn hush as he tries to detach from his own emotions to keep from crying. He wants to know how other people go through these same experiences without just killing themselves to get out of how terrible it feels. "What are you afraid of?" There's a stall as he pokes at the fire and the sea creature's skin crackles. "I always thought I was scared of so many things. My head is full of terrible visions when I sleep and I've never been able to run away from them, no matter how I try, but I didn't..." He can't look at her, biting his lip while his eyes out-burn the fire. "Gosh, I never..." Sucking in a breath, he tries to come to terms with the truth. "I never realized that those horrors lived in me. I thought they snuck in when I wasn't looking, because I was sleeping, but I cut that guy's ear off. I didn't think I was someone who could do that, but I did. I did that." Knuckling away a tear trying to sneak down his cheek, he tries so hard to bottle it and end it there, but he can't. "I'm afraid of..." What are you afraid of, Zion? "Myself."

He feels like an idiot. It isn't as if he's dangerous — Cassia has done nearly all of the fighting for them while he bumbled uselessly, but he can't take it all back with a joke like he knows he should. She saw him running wild through the night, tumbling off a cliff while trying to escape the demons of his subconscious; it isn't as if this is a real secret. Yet she fights as if it doesn't weigh on her heart and so maybe she's the one with the real secret, some piece of knowledge that could free him from his guilt so he could be like her too. Falling onto his back to stare up at the inner ceiling of the cave, he wants to hide away here until it's all over. He doesn't want to deal with anything, inside or outside his own head. It is an ocean. It is outer space. It is full of secrets both beautiful and dangerous and he is lost in the fog upon the ground.

Bad Habit by Chela.

[time for night terrors]

09y0YJZl1-4

[don't look under the bed]

[will getting naked make it less scary? y/n]

1-2

[obviously]

[makes a wimpy excuse for a fire via flint to roast the oculin]

[collects plants]

[eats nom nom nom]

[f/a]

[newclass=".Zion3Container"]width:450px; height:450px; background-position:center; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding:20px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".Zion3Title"]font-size:10px; text-transform:uppercase; margin-right:65px; margin-bottom:1px; [/newclass]
[newclass=".Zion3Content"]width:300px; height:0px; overflow:hidden; opacity:0.8; font-size:10px; text-align:justify; padding:1px 10px 0px 10px; -webkit-transition-duration:1s; transition-duration:1s; -moz-transition-duration:1s; [/newclass]
[newclass=".Zion3Container:hover .Zion3Content"]height:250px; overflow:auto; padding:10px; text-align:justify; -webkit-transition-duration:1s;transition-duration:1s; -moz-transition-duration:1s; [/newclass]1-4�1-2

Last Edit: Jul 12, 2018 21:35:21 GMT -5 by L△LIA

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d4 tati pelotte [azalea]
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(speak your mind) | shadowless vs mutts, day 2 Jul 13, 2018 8:05:13 GMT -5

Quote

Post by d4 tati pelotte [azalea] on Jul 13, 2018 8:05:13 GMT -5

CASSIA
ORETIO

My wish is my command and another body collapses into a heap of death on the ground. The smell of the murder heightens my senses, the sight of the blood against the dark sand is enough to fuel the worst of nightmares but is it really a nightmare when we're wide awake? I could pinch myself and stay exactly where I am right now, in the thick of destruction and I wouldn't even mind. In that sense, does this become a flipped experience? Is this a dream come true?

I stand facing the water, the waves tinted like sorry silhouettes by the black sand. A lacy foam crashes against some nearby rocks, the icy spray of the beating gliding through the air to fall on my skin. The currents are accustomed to darkness; they probably house fish and other beasts of all kinds, constantly looping around the circle of life. Should we fear it? It is as loud as a tiger, and just about as dangerous too. The soft lullaby it sings to the shore is enough to make anyone uncertain of its true motives.

There's security, safety in feeling of ground beneath your feet, and even though there is no wind beneath my wings, I'm sure that the two of us could fly if we really wanted to.

Zion points out the green hues brought in by the tide, and we both collect a few strings of the plants. His hand moves to clutch his stomach and the sight is enough to make my own stomach rumble, craving something, anything to eat. I'm used to having to live on rations; Twelve isn't the richest and even those that do have enough to support themselves - nobody will ever live a life of luxury back home. Sometimes it feels as if we are the laughing stock of the Capitol, a district destined for ridicule of anything kind just for the sake of entertainment. It underestimates our status as humans, and it underestimates our ability to touch the impossible.

Two hurts for Twelve for the price of one. But, I don't feel it.

"Hungry?"

"Hungry." I say back understandingly, trying to shift the broken image of home from my mind. Though those are the memories that make me strong, there is still a sense of weakness that comes with them. Like a silver lining - but bad.

He starts to move towards the corpse with tentacles, investigating it for a moment before striding away to collect anything that he can from the shoreline. Shards of driftwood and dry grasses are collected in the entrance to a small cave on the island. The shelter becomes our home for the night, illuminated by the sparks of Zion's fire which starts to make the seaweed crisp and roast the creature. A proper, hearty dinner for two proper, half-hearted people.

We sit together, seeing the night in as we feast on the dead. Survival instinct has kicked in; a wolf never cared about how many sheep there were and today was evidence of just that. And the reward? The satisfaction of knowing the thing that tried to kill you is in your stomach. I lick my lips - it's actually pretty good.

"Cassia?"

"What?" I say, trying to pick some of the flesh out of my teeth.

"What are you afraid of? I always thought I was scared of so many things. My head is full of terrible visions when I sleep and I've never been able to run away from them, no matter how I try, but I didn't..." He pauses and I lower my head to try and get him to look up. He is fixated on the fire and I don't dare to interrupt how his eyes burn. "Gosh, I never... I never realised that those horrors lived in me. I thought they snuck in when I wasn't looking, because I was sleeping, but I cut that guy's ear off. I didn't think I was someone who could do that, but I did. I did that." When his hand moves to his face to wipe a tear, my mouth scrunches to the side. And what he says next shakes my core because his voice sounds more pained that anything I've ever heard: "I'm afraid of... myself."

I shuffle across to sit next to him and when he falls to his back, I do the same. I have to let him know that we are in this together, because there is nothing worse than feeling alone when the world threatens to swallow you whole. In this moment, I trust Zion because I feel he needs to be trusted, he needs the support.

"I'm afraid of dying." I say, frowning as my eyes follow cracks in the ceiling. The words are fear for all, surely, but when I say the simple sentence, it makes me feel weaker than ever before. Being honest with yourself is meant to feel liberating, freeing because it is the first step to acceptance but I have built myself up too high that if I stop now - I've got even further to fall. "I'm scared that if I don't be the best, worst version of myself then everything will have just been for nothing." And that is the worst thing - dying young as if you haven't really lived at all. Being a woman is the most freedom I have ever felt, but I want to feel fresh air in my lungs and run a country mile without fearing a bullet in my back. "I think about everything that has ever happened to me, every little bad thing, and it makes me angry. It makes me angry because all I have ever been is angry, never happy."

I feel like I have let my defences down. Chances are, there are some cameras in the rocks of this cave and my feelings are being broadcast to the entire world. I close my eyes and think back to when I was reaped - all the things I had told myself, all the things I had promised myself, all the words that I used to define my strength despite weakness and all the times I'd felt like my human nature was working against me. And I think about how long it took for me to accept that resilience and being on the offence does not constitute a 'broken' person, honesty does not make a 'broken' person, asking questions does not make a 'broken' person, having a sharp tongue, a quick wit and standing up for what you believe in does not make a 'broken' person. Falling down and getting up does not make a 'broken' person, answering back does not make a 'broken' person, letting go, taking ownership, being angry, being mean does not make a 'broken' person. And now I think about how none of those things made me happy, either.

"I can't think of anything that makes me happy because it feels like I was born to die." That is why this is so important to me, that is why I have been trying so hard to prove myself as worthy and nothing less than capable of winning.

"Dying is scary," I say. "It is scary, but it's normal. It has to be normal, and it is normal to be afraid of yourself, too."

A wolf - I am a wolf because my life has thrown me to the wolves. If I didn't get up and lead the pack, I'd be dead already. And maybe that does mean I'm a little ruthless, a little bit too determined and mean and heartless for my own good - but I realise it is my fear that keeps me balanced.

"My tears dried up long ago and that means that I'm a monster, I know that it does, because it means my heart is too immune to being hurt that it just doesn't care anymore - hurt is what it expects." I frown. "That is why I pride myself on being a woman because women take shit, give shit and are dangerous - but something always stopped me from feeling like a complete monster like these games calls for. I think I know what it is now."

"Fear keeps us human." I tell him, and it is hard to admit that there is something within me that stops me from going all the way. A barrier that really is impossible to overcome because it is something that is part of our human nature.

The dangerous in me screams.

But I listen, again, and I honour it. I have to.