wuthering heights — tumblehoes; day one.

new

« Prev
1
Next »

gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.
Graphics

3,094 POSTS

Pronouns: he/him
last seen May 3, 2024 8:28:06 GMT -5

wuthering heights — tumblehoes; day one. Oct 29, 2018 14:22:43 GMT -5

Quote

Post by gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Oct 29, 2018 14:22:43 GMT -5

We wouldn't be seen dead here in the day
I guess you're lucky that it's dark now
And if I like it then we'll stay
Impress the empress, take a shot now

polysyllabic heart doesn’t stop its loud drums, each coronary coursing in violent haste beneath a fragile rib-cage. i ran, until a bright horizon swallowed the cornucopia’s array of metal carts, and even then, it wasn’t safe, the agitated pulse inside whispering at me so.

tributes could have followed our ghostly trails, they could be right ahead of me and parson and the thought encroaches my wild heart, wrapping its thick vines of paranoia and dread around it.

i turn to the boy, disturbed and with trembling breaths, for the first time since we fled the pandemonium caused by white-teeth teens.

he’s there. right behind me.

tattered but there, nevertheless. tears sting my eyes and i’m breathing out heavy sobs out of the blue.

he did not leave, just like mother had, a distant face which my infant gaze could not etch to memory. like those who promised they’d stay, just to fuck me over, leave me shipwrecked in a vacant room. the resurgence of memories roars and drowns, causing a rattle inside bones that doesn’t halt.

sadness is the most embarrassing human condition. i loathe crying and waterworks, even though there’s a dam tucked beneath these sockets that is leaking all the goddamn time.

i swear i could hear mackenzie’s buried disappointment, as he tries to convince sponsors that i’m not the mosaicked human that i truly am. that i deserve survival. that i am lionhearted, and not stricken entirely with cowardice.

“you’re here.” from the pricking depths of throat, a gasp is torn out. i reach out for an embrace, and when i pull back, there’s blood. saturated crimson under a soft sun. “and, you’re fucking bleeding.” i force my hands to stop shaking and set him down, on the grassed soil and carpet weeds.

“oh fuck, i’m all moist. my tux is soiled.” he groans; i’m quick to retort. “dirty tuxes are truly our first priority right now.” sarcasm drips, the creation of an old nervous tic that never seems to fade.

the events resurface in bits and shards, a chain of broken images—i remember the silver pedestal. the cacophony of footsteps. the metal cart which parson pushed me in. the bloodbath, in which chaos came undone. endless, outstretched hands fished for weapons, supplies, as mine had. and, annie and hell were reduced to blurs by the disorder around them.

short moments of needed rest brings back clarity to our senses, eyes dancing about, eager to feast upon its surroundings, whilst ears pay close attention.

a distant chorus of strange sounds reveals itself through the morbid quietness. it’s an uproar of water, akin to what a watermill would generate.

“c’mon. i hear water ahead. we can dry off spend the night there.” a hand tenses around the spiked blunt, its jagged ends darkened with blood. the other free grasp assists parson, and we’re treading onward, again, watched by a lone sun and the capitol and other lurking creatures.

soon, we’re somewhere, overlooking a dark-blue horizon which stretches for miles. it’s the sea, which i’ve seen only inside the worn pages of a storybook, the expanse discolored with age or cheap pigments.

this sea, however, strays far from discoloration, with its earthed greens and aquatic teal. from the serrated mouths of uneven cliffs, come the sea—endless, its sounds of advance and withdrawal sonorous to ears. from here, i could trace the sandy beginnings of a beach.

“there’s no footpath or anything. they are seriously fucking with us, hah.” bones give rest to themselves on softened earth and i can’t avert my sight from the synthetic miracle ahead, but footsteps force me to.

it’s just parson. eyes glimpse at him, and i suspect he hasn’t stopped getting troubled by the drenched clothes. “if they’re too,” i force down a shudder as tongue articulates the next word. “moist, then you should just strip. here, i’ll help.” body rises to its feet again, as hands aid. i wouldn’t be joyous to wear blood-soaked fabric either.

our timing is fucked, because annie and hell stumbles in, and my cheeks flare up, before a gaze studies the two.

“annie—” i know she despises the cognomen but uses it anyways, not fearing a dagger to my spine. “your hand.” it’s gone, cut clean, red flesh bordered with blood.

a helpless disgust rise up throat, as palpable as nausea. this is what to be expected: ultra-violence, devoid of mercy. we’re here to rob each other’s lives.

after tending to her wounds, we don’t speak much, dead-marked teens as dead as they’re going to be. a chirp sounds beside us, from a bird.

“what’re they called again, delivery words?” head rises from its comforted site upon parson’s shoulder, tilting at the creature. “that’s such a dumb name.” a scoff unearths itself, but hands reach out at it, the flame of juvenile curiosity sparking a slow-burn desire to catch it.

We got the glow in our mouths
White teeth teens are out
White teeth teens are up for it

[ lyrics: white teeth teens - lorde ]

[ angel does f/a on anatalia (-3) ]
[ angel tries to catch delivery word ]

ltEHR72_1-4

1-4

Last Edit: Oct 29, 2018 14:30:53 GMT -5 by gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.

堕落天使

d7m fraser birk ♚ frankel
Moderator

4,198 POSTS
Pronouns: She/Her
Member is Online

call me jaded

wuthering heights — tumblehoes; day one. Oct 29, 2018 15:36:16 GMT -5

Quote

Post by d7m fraser birk ♚ frankel on Oct 29, 2018 15:36:16 GMT -5

Several palpitations and the floods of sticky fluids, an aftermath of the chaos that I signed up to. I have only dared to glance at the source of the pain once so foolish of me to be marked so early, oh how I bet Teddy is trembling. Damn, I have really fucked this up already. Palms over the wound, just one more glance. Maroon stains my hands, drops escape to the ground as I raise them to my eyeline. It really is a nasty bite on my abdomen. That District Five girl is one to avoid.

It is an early retreat from the bloodbath, the opposite of the advice given by the so-called experts. A bag and a knife, tools to company me in this crusade, yeah, I am really going to have to flaunt myself to get some sponsorship. There have been comments on my jawline, no idea how I am going to turn the spotlight to that, but it really is all I have now. Whatever, I am gripping onto my life, there may be blood already visible, but my heart feels alive (a little too much). Porters are taught the basics of medical training, but a beating heart is a good thing!

I trail behind Angel, both hands still cupping my stomach. For a moment he turns, and our eyes meet. I am still following him. A promise kept, between my own life and him, I am running behind the boy. Lured by something, the bitter selfishness that my father said had grown on me through adolescence seems to have been beaten away.

I am following him. My Angel guiding the way.

”You’re here.” He too is surprised by my appearance, even a hug is carried with it. My wound has been compromised. “and, you’re fucking bleeding.” All I an do is nod…and look again. This observation is far more focused than the others, a burgundy tint to my very prominent orange tuxedo. A clear indication to the mess that is likely hiding within the fabric. ”Oh fuck, I’m all moist. My tux is soiled.” For a moment I back track on my words, the matter of my clothing really isn’t the important thing here.

”Dirty tuxes are truly our first priority right now.” Alright Angel, I figured that out already…

The pain is just going to have to be bearable until help is discovered, maybe those little parachutes will gift me with pain killers and bandages. All I can do is wander alongside Angel. I keep up with him under the dying sun, rather than just trailing behind. I am here to protect him, and he is here to protect me. Neither of us can trail behind. A shield is far stronger if it is just one piece.

We have reached the end of the Earth. Never-ending expanse of clear liquid, so I guess this is what the ocean looks like. I dare walk close to the edge, one glance down and it hits my stomach hard. Fuck that really is a long way down. My toes just inches from the edge, I pull my feet back with haste. The thought of the ground giving way with me on top, nah that would be to clumsy of me. It is hard not to stare, despite the obvious discovered phobia of the distance between me and the water.

I am lost in the rhythm of the waves hitting the sand down below, each one different to the other. A white fringe rolling forwards, lost to the land. Mom talked of the ocean, a land beyond District Six. I wonder if she reached the shores of Panem. Could I swim the ocean and find her? No, I am fucking idiot, I don’t know how to swim!

“There’s no footpath or anything. they are seriously fucking with us, hah.” Of all the fuckery that they have thrown onto us, no footpath really adds another layer to the cake. I just laugh as I fling the handbag off my shoulder onto the ground. Its contents non-existent, but I aim to fill before the night really hits.

“If they’re too…” Angel moves close to me, his words take me away from the studying the view further. “moist, then you should just strip. here, I’ll help.” I raise my arms in the air, surrendering to his request. Each piece the tuxedo is removed, and my chest is out to bear the elements. There is nothing impressive with it, minimally toned muscles but hopefully enough to impress the eye, his eye…

My smile wanders to a grin as company arrives, oh of course the ladies that we promised as allies and what an appropriate arrival. Arms mask the wound on my abdomen, but I am quickly not the most battered one here. Annie and her vanished hand, missing limbs are a common sight in the hallways of the hospital, shock does not take hold of me, but it is clear on Angel’s face. Surely it is an injury held by so many in the axe wielding District…

”Annie I’d help you but they haven’t figured out how to grow limbs in District Six just yet.”

Rest is granted and the call for sponsorship is minimal but a shovel, bandages for my wound and a vape pen?? are delivered. Now that blood is not pouring from my skin, the tuxedo is back on but loosely. A barely buttoned shirt, and the bowtie discarded, it really is not practical outfit.

There is a disturbance in the air and Angel is the first to identify it, birds have joined us. The ever so famous birds that so many tributes have captured in past games. The urge to catch one is strengthened as I watch Angel fail. ”Hey, I bet I can catch one!”

[Actions in trib maint]
[Parson attempts to catch a delivery word]
q1UQiKoC1-4

1-4

Last Edit: Oct 29, 2018 18:29:19 GMT -5 by d7m fraser birk ♚ frankel

jackson thomas [d6m] arc
Veteran Member

2,547 POSTS

Pronouns: he/him
last seen May 1, 2024 18:49:24 GMT -5

wuthering heights — tumblehoes; day one. Nov 2, 2018 15:02:24 GMT -5

Quote

Post by jackson thomas [d6m] arc on Nov 2, 2018 15:02:24 GMT -5

My heart ached. My head throbbed.

It was like they were in some beat that had been placed. Punch in the heart, stab in the head, slash at the mind. Stumbling out of that hellhole was like I had just been reborn. I hate this. My world was thrown upside down.

I feel like I just walked into a freezer. My bones were chilled and my teeth felt like they should be chattering. Running out of the Bloodbath, I felt like I was freezing. My blood was spilling out as fast as it could be produced. Maybe I could use my own blood as a drink for once.

Bottoms up, vampires.

I ran from the bloodbath with the only other girl of our alliance. The other two boys had already ran off to god knows where, but I kept my heart with Annie. Her lost hand, the amount of blood that slowly coiled out of her scars like a snake sneaking up upon its prey, I felt bad for her. She looked like she had just escaped death's wings, and I want to help her. That was the plan anyways. I don't need as much help. A bandage should do the job for me, but nothing can replace her hand.

Maybe we can get her something to attach on as a replacement that's a weapon. Imagine if you had a damn sword as your hand. Hopefully she isn't used to scratching her back with that hand, then. Don't need to kill yourself by just giving into an itching sensation.

Though, by the time we found Angel and Parson, it seemed rather clear that scratching backs weren't the only sensations people were thinking about in the arena. There they were, Parson shirtless and Angel doing something involving their back (that I don't really want to see, they can have their own fun).

They seem to only really acknowledge Annie, not giving a single word to me.

Fuck you too, then.

Now was the time for me to actually pay attention to Annie, giving her some sort of help (which, given my history, is quite rare). Not that I wanted to. She could die right here, right now. They probably had her cannon ready too. But if I wanted to be alive by the end of these 23 cannons, I needed her more than she needed me. So, therefore, she had to live.

No cannons yet, not on my watch.

Not in these "Holy" (not so holy, thanks to Angel & Parson deciding to have a quickie) Sea Cliffs.

[actions in trib maintenance]

ryan
Advertiser

2,908 POSTS

Pronouns: he/him
last seen May 3, 2024 14:04:41 GMT -5

over the moon, where all the wild things are

wuthering heights — tumblehoes; day one. Nov 2, 2018 16:25:09 GMT -5

Quote

Post by ryan on Nov 2, 2018 16:25:09 GMT -5

She cant feel anything.

A girl made of amber chipped away viciously as she tried to fight.

She was trying to prove herself to people who did not give a shit, and that proved to start the slow process to her timely demise.

She thought she knew everything, that career status proud in her head, but she was wrong. She was so wrong.

She did not see it coming. She thought the girl from three was weak, but she was not. She was stronger, and her twin brother did not seem to lack in the same department.

They slashed her up good, and Annie couldn’t even think about the pain because for once, she was scared for her life.

No.

Instead she ran as far as she could in order to get away from the assholes who had sliced her up into oblivion.

There was no time for her to stop, because if she did, she knew that someone would catch up with her.

She ran alongside Hellion, a girl that Annie started to feel like she was getting closer too. She had the same mean streak that Annie did, and that was going to be crucial here as they needed to start picking off people left and right.

When they stopped and caught up with the rest of them, they could start planning the demise of every person that wronged them from start to beginning.

Annie never considered herself vindictive, but vengeful? Was there a difference?

Annie didn’t know and did not give one fuck.

The threes were going to pay for what they had done to her.

She trees started to peter out into bushes, and then slowly turned into rocks and moss.

The smell of the sea hit Annie in the face, and she couldn’t help but stop as she walked out of the forest.

She looked out and was captivated by the sight, adrenaline simply coursing through her veins up until that point.

She took her left hand and tried pushing her hair back from her face, and that is when Parson and Angel’s words had finally struck her.

She wanted to scream, but she knew that if she raised any octave higher than a whisper then everyone would know where she was.

And so she threw herself into Angel’s figure just for a moment, burying her face into his chest and began to let out a banshee cry that could be heard from the heavens if she did not muffle it up.

She felt a hand caress her hair slightly and Annie just remained. She needed a moment to register the fact that her hand was no longer attached her body. ”Fuck me.” Annie said complacently as she lifted her head from Angel’s chest and took a deep breath. ”No. Fuck that girl from Three. Im gonna shove a knife right up her ass.” Annie spat out as she tried to take deep breathes.

She did not feel like herself, and as much as she liked this new, almost dead, version of herself, she had so much more to live for, so she needed to snap the fuck out of it and prepare for the worst.

She gritted her teeth as she looked at Hellion and then Parson and Angel. She was happy that they all had made it out alive, and as much as it sucked that she took the most damage out of everyone, they seemed to be a little better off.

She turned her head to the sea cliffs and tried to catch a glimpse of the beauty that this arena had to offer. However, she could only see red. Her missing limb hurt, and she needed to figure out a way to stop the bleeding.

Angel had handed her a plant, and based off first instinct she took a bite out of it. She could taste the medicine flowing down her throat, and she simply sat down looked out as she scarfed down the med plant.

After a couple minute, the pain from her hand had started to fade a bit, and that was her moment to take a long breath as she tried to think of what they needed to do next.

And then a parachute of things started to fly around the girl who had lost quite a bit of hope.

Her wounds had started to feel dismal, but slowly numbed by the plant.

She got up from the grass and made her way to the parachutes. She found quite a few things across the plain, most of them being things that she never thought she would see while she was here in the arena.

She saw a bag of med stuff laying on the side, a rainbow color sash of multi-colored knifes, and a chest plate that looked perfect to cover up her wounds.

She took out the med supplies and began to stitch up the wound on her chest, one of the many she had thanks to the duo from three.

As she pulled the needle through the wound, she thought about how much she wanted this. How much she wanted to go home a victor, so she could show her father that she could in fact take her life into her own hands.

She sighed and she grabbed five feet of bandages and wrapped them around her now missing hand. At the least she could stop the blood dripping all over the gorgeous arena around them.

She placed the chest plate over her wounds and then dawned the rainbow color sash equipped with not one, but ten different color throwing knives.

The dress seemed to be an afterthought at this point, but that wasn’t her worry anyway. Right now she needed to talk with her alliance about what they were going to do next.

She watched as Parson tried to grab a bird from the sky and Annie couldn’t help but smile. She was in pain, yes, but that did not mean that she was going to walk around weak bodied and confused mind.

Instead she reached out her left hand and grabbed for the sky. ”Anything you can do, I can probably do just as well.” Annie said with a small smile, trying to make light of the situation even though losing a hand was probably the worst fucking thing that could possibly happen in the games.

Well, besides dying.