Discharge [Fiona/Oliver]

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They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.

Discharge [Fiona/Oliver] Nov 29, 2018 22:31:03 GMT -5

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Post by * on Nov 29, 2018 22:31:03 GMT -5

Night had finally fallen, I assumed. The movements of the rest of the tributes in this place seemed to slow down, except for the random movements I had placed. Though the sleeping area was supposed to be routine to relax here, my mind kept rushing. It is almost like not being able to see kept replaying all the moments over the last five days like a repeat of the games they often played in the districts. I despised the games but I couldn't help that I was unable to avoid them. I was played like a sap, crying when it didn't help. Watching my allies die and disappear on me. Writing in that journal.

"I need that back." I whisper to myself and I found the strength to sit up on the cot, reaching beside the bed to take hold of the guide stick. It had became my lifeline and as fearful as I was that I'd run into another tribute again in this place, the thought that they might even accomplish what the game makers prevented made me hopeful. The thought of that crazy girl ran through my mind and it was weird not to have heard from her just yet. Maybe, not everyone made it. Maybe not every individual was able to be saved passed their cessation. I shouldn't smile, but for a moment the tug on my left side wanted to show some form of acceptance that not everyone was as lucky as myself. The other tributes that I assume had been able to live, was only interested in those that they were acclimated to before their untimely demise and reanimation into this cell.

With the help of my guiding pole, I was able to make it out of the maze of beds and into the main portion of the place. I'd yet been given the clear to remove the wrappings around my eyes for fear that straining too hard would damage what muscles and tissues were left, but also to give my body time to heal without over stressing myself. Not being able to undo the bandages to even see my confines was stressful, but it was only a limited time before I ran into someone I didn't want to meet.

Sounds of the games, some voices is was drew me in the direction straight through the dining area. My fingers slide across the tables on the way. One or two didn't have anything on it but a smooth surface. Then as the next table came into play, a piece of paper seemed to glide with my hand. I touched it, noticing the feel as if it was like a memory of a book I used to write in. I spent a lot of time holding that journal. I needed to hold a pen in my hand again and the thought that it was so close yet so far made me want to cry. I held the paper, no bigger than my hand between my thumb and index finger rubbing it. I held it to my chest for a moment and then spoke outward for anyone to hear.

"Can someone... tell me if anything is written on this?" The pole hit one of the chairs. I fumbled with it, pulling it out just enough to sit. The bandaged hand making for a sloppy try at trying to sit easily. I can only feel the paper in my hand wondering what the words, if any, could be. "Faux... Oliver?" I want to sob unable to see a soul because I remember so vividly writing to them every night. My heart bled for them.

Fiona: c98667
Others: e7cbbe

djed carnelian . d8m [kap]
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goomy goomy on the brain

Discharge [Fiona/Oliver] Nov 30, 2018 11:40:14 GMT -5

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Post by djed carnelian . d8m [kap] on Nov 30, 2018 11:40:14 GMT -5

I should have listened to you when you said,
"nothing will make this easier."

When I awoke that morning, I made myself watch the screen that broadcast the current happenings of the 80th Hunger Games. I'd forced myself to do so, so that I knew if and when Fiona and Carmen would be joining me here. I needed them to know that Faux was okay, and how sorry I was for abandoning them. My head hurt too much to watch what happened until now, but I'd be paying attention from now on. I didn't need them to know that I was okay. I just needed them to know how bad I felt about what happened. It was my fault that Faux fell in the arena that day, and I knew that it would be my fault if either of the girls fell any time soon thereafter, since I left them, no longer there to help them survive.

I could've protected them longer if I hadn't been an absolute asshole and left them.

That was when my heart skipped a couple beats in response to what my eyes saw on the screen in front of me. Fiona... Fiona! She was in pain- I could see it. The spear that pierced her eye came from one of the District Four tributes... should I be mad at ver for killing my friend, when, in all actuality, my friend was going to survive?

Wait... was that... Shy? Oh my Ripred. Fiona and Carmen had teamed up with the person that, as far as they knew, had ended Faux's life, along with Quest Hertz, the heartless individual who wasn't even so much as slightly shaken when Faux's skull was split.

How could they even somewhat trust Shy and Quest? What had happened since I'd left? Was this an act of spite, teaming up with them? Was this a way of showing that they were better than me, because they didn't hold a grudge against their friend's killer?

Why the hell would they do that?

Shy and Quest weren't people one could just trust.

I was now seated in the dining hall, having read the note that was on the table, stating that we had to decide who was to eat and who wasn't, when Fiona walked in. Having taken a spear to the eye, her eyes were currently bandaged over and she was carrying a walking stick, meaning that she couldn't see me sitting there. Her walking stick hit a chair, which she then proceeded to pull out with difficulty and sit in.

"Can someone... tell me if anything is written on this?" she asked. "Faux... Oliver?" She knew I was here, somehow.

"Fiona- it's Oliver," I said. I wanted to tell her that it was good to see her again, since, in a way, it was, and those were surely the words she'd want to hear, but it wasn't entirely true, and I wasn't one to lie. There was a part of me that actually didn't want to see her, and that was because of her teaming up with Shy and Quest. Although, should I really let my own personal judgments of what my friend did after she thought I died affect what I think of her now? I wasn't entirely sure.

"The note says that... we have to decide who eats and who doesn't," I told her.

Her walking stick hit my bad knee, and I was just grateful that the thing was made of plastic. It collided with the splint I was wearing, but I still flinched, scared of pain. My knee had been broken when the sloth hit it, and I didn't want more damage done to it. I didn't say anything about her hitting my knee, though. I just wanted to talk to her.

"How are you feeling, friend?" I asked her. "I- I'm so sorry I left you and Carmen."

for * | 625 words | lyrics: "Follows" by Tigers Jaw
notes: none | credit JELLYFISH PRINCESS

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They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.

Discharge [Fiona/Oliver] Nov 30, 2018 18:00:54 GMT -5

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Post by * on Nov 30, 2018 18:00:54 GMT -5

I never knew darkness held so much pain. Even with my eyes bandaged, I still tried to use the muscles to scan the area around me. Though, the darkness was only seen on one side, I'm assuming that's why both had been bandaged. My attempts to even pretend I could map out my surroudings failed. I sighed heavily as I held that paper and my my messy attempt to sit was finally allowing my heart rate to return to normal. I missed my old life already. I missed my life in the arena. I missed the life that I was almost granted before they did me dirty and saved what didn't want to be saved.

I longed to know what tributes survived so far or the footsteps and who they belonged to were. Surely, as my presence had been only short into the opening world of this vault, none had come forward. I can only assume that their injuries were too grave to save and I was still forced to live alone, tortured in this cell without a soul to lean on in my emptiness.

Their names expelled from my lips, curious about the words that might have been written on this sliver of paper, but no one was going to be nice enough to read the words to me - to a tribute who couldn't survive the games.

"Fiona - it's Oliver." The voice scared me. The very familiar voice of the boy who was supposed to be named Oliver spoke up as soon as I said the name of the ones I dearly missed. Carmen, as I had been told, was still in the arena - probably facing a world of pain by emotional abandonment and the rest as well, but here - hopefully in flesh and living blood, was that of the ally that took his leave just minutes after the fall of our beloved Faux. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing could escape.

Was I dreaming this possibly? Could it actually be him, or is this a sick dynamic of the damn game makers who was to torture me. Maybe these lines were that of the voice recording just before we all were forced into the arena. A moment passed, and the direction of the voice needed to be make whole. I moved my guide stick and aimed in the direction and met with an unkindly motion that I detected. Someone really was there.

"How are you feeling, Friend? I - I'm so sorry I left you and Carmen." He apologized, but it was pure sadness. My heart compelled me to reach forward, to feel for his presence. Only then, would I be able to tell if it was really him.

"Really Oliver? My Oliver? The one that Carmen nicknamed Olive that she said she would come up with a better name later, Oliver?" The guide pole was propped on the table, trying to make sure it didn't fall too far away from me, and I pushed myself from the chair to reach for him. Unsteadily, I still can't trust my own lack of vison, terrified that I'll fall without the support of the pole. Instead, I found his presence - warm but also a little cold.

Fingers examed the arm I had touched first, then reached up to his shoulder, and finally his face to map. His chin was enough to tell me that it was definately him. I can already see the shape matching with my touch. My memories of his face were almost faded, but the sense of touch seemed to ignite the lasting memory for only a moment like the lighting of a match. "It is you. I... I am scared, to be honest. Hurting, and I can't see, but I don't need to see..."

Slowly, I pulled my arm around his neck and placed my chin on his shoulder, careful of the painful side that ached. "I'm so sorry for letting you leave us. I'm sorry for not trying harder - for not going after you. I'm a terrible ally - I'd cry, but they told me not to. I've missed you - and Faux. I don't understand why we are here..." My throat burns and for the first time since waking up this morning, I feel an almost sort of calm.

Fiona: c98667
Others: e7cbbe