surprise!— [abel/whiskey (day three | blitz)]

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last seen Nov 5, 2024 3:25:50 GMT -5

surprise!— [abel/whiskey (day three | blitz)] Nov 5, 2021 12:25:54 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Nov 5, 2021 12:25:54 GMT -5

a b e l .

"because we
burn bright
our light leaves
scars on the sun."

I told myself I wouldn't have a break down, that I could hold my emotions in - well that didn't fucking work.

But at this point, did it really matter? Arthur and I had gotten quite a bit of sponsors already. Who cared if we had emotions at this point? When I watched Six last year, I thought to myself I'd never cry and freakout like he did because he was just a kid. And that's just another lie I tell myself, we all tell ourselves lies. I'm less than a year older than him, we're just in different grades because he has an early birthday and I have a late one - if I win I'll turn seventeen on my Victory Tour for heavens sake.

I just got tired of holding shit in. Pa would probably be pissed when I got home for an outburst like that. And maybe he'll give me a whoopin' the moment I step off that train. But he's the one who never bothered saying goodbye to me. He's the one who showed how little he cares for his own sons. Not me. I've done nothing but respect Pa and listen to him. And he didn't even say goodbye. I'd have to be a monster to not be hurt by that.

I was still pretty upset when I told Arthur I needed to get some air and that I'd be right back. Sure I had plenty of weapons back at camp - throwing knives, a blow dart gun, and javelins. But that wasn't at all on my mind when I wanted to take a quick walk. Besides, I wasn't planning on going far from camp. I did have my triceratops stuffed animal, if only because it was already in my hands when I had my breakdown. I was just focusing on calming down, on breathing. I didn't notice anyone or anything around me. That was my first mistake.

[ table by elegant ]
[ quote from "remember how we forgot" by shane koyczan ]

pogue
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Pronouns: He/Him
last seen Oct 19, 2024 11:07:44 GMT -5

Is she trying to interrupt our henna session?

surprise!— [abel/whiskey (day three | blitz)] Nov 6, 2021 13:22:54 GMT -5

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Post by pogue on Nov 6, 2021 13:22:54 GMT -5

W I Z

Tsara's cannon carves itself into the roots of his brain, echoing over and over again and again in the back of his mind. It takes one minute for it to fuse with the hammering sound of his own heartbeat in hollow chest and another for it to overwhelm him entirely, spreading through his veins like poison as he rises from a shallow grave he'd dug himself in the dune closest to them, dust and ash clinging to his skin and marking him with the shadows of his own sins.

"Taking a walk." He says to everyone and no one at the same time, words bouncing amongst the sober strings that bind them together now before dissolving into nothing.

His hand won't stop shaking.

He curls white-knuckled, bloody fingers around his wrist as he carves his own guilt into the black dust that stretches around him, footsteps made and footsteps lost to the wind that whips across the dunes, whistling a sad chorus as his regret drips and swirls in the pit of his stomach. He drowns himself in the shadows that cling to the Finch name, kicking up sand into the void and, by the time he finally comes to a halt near a dune twice his height the shaking that tried so desperately to tear him limb from limb has been halted by his own rage, fingers curled so tightly into his palm that it feels as if the bones will creak and shatter at any moment.

He's a sad sight, always trying to run away from his own instinct, always falling right back into old habits anyways. Familiarity is a deadly thing.

He punches the dirt with all of the strength he doesn't have, eighteen years of nothin' but rage and it's all fuck Bastian Fray and Fuck Nylon and Fuck these Games and-

Sweat drips from his brow when he's forced to finally stop, cloud of ash rising up into the air from his blows and sticking to sweat slicked skin. Footsteps, he can hardly hear them as they mend and fuse with the sounds of hollow sobs just over the dune to his right. Snake eyes narrow up towards the sound, drenched in the shadow of the dune itself and he presses his form into the sand in makeshift camouflage, dust coating his skin helping him to drown in the shadows that surround them.

Steel slides out from his jacket pocket as the figure passes him in rugged obliviousness, metal glinting in the sunlight as he slams his teeth down into his lip, tasting iron and blood spill onto his tongue. He doesn't recognize the weeping boy in front of him.

He also doesn't care.

Grief and rage slams into the figure as Wiz tackles him into the sand, curling dirty fingertips into blonde locks and slamming the boy's head into the ground once, yanking back hard until a shout escapes from his lips.

"Should watch where you're moving." He says between grinding teeth, pressing the steel so tight against the boy's neck that he feels a trickle of blood spill onto his fingertip.

"I'm lookin' for revenge, bud." He says, slamming the boy's head back into the dirt, moving the knife until the tip is stuck against his neck. "And trust me-" he says in shaking breaths, leaning forwards until he needs nothing but a whisper to reach the boy's ears.

"I'm not picky."

Last Edit: Nov 6, 2021 13:38:21 GMT -5 by pogue

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surprise!— [abel/whiskey (day three | blitz)] Nov 12, 2021 12:35:56 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Nov 12, 2021 12:35:56 GMT -5

a b e l .

"because we
burn bright
our light leaves
scars on the sun."

Screams erupted from my throat instantly, hoping Arthur overheard.

Until I realised whoever this kid was allied with might overhear too. I wanted to scream out, I wanted to cry, but my voice was suddenly trapped in my throat. All of that, for nothing? All of this pain, everything I've worked so hard for, just for this kid to kill me out here? I prayed he'd let me go, that he didn't want to waste his time on me.

When he slammed my head to the ground, I let out another scream. The second time he slammed it down, that's when the tears started. My head was absolutely pounding - if he kept this up I'd get a concussion. I felt the stinging on my neck from where he cut me, but thankfully it wasn't deep or it would be bleeding a hell of a lot more. I felt a single drop of blood going down my neck, it would almost tickle if I wasn't about to piss myself.

I thought the person I was scared of most was Iden because of what happened in the Training Center. And then Bastian since Iden died. But there's a difference between what Iden and Bastian did and what this guy did. They threatened me and kicked my ass in the Training Center. That's easy to do. If things get too rough the Peacekeepers step in eventually and they don't have to follow through eventually.

Here? There are no Peacekeepers to step in. It's not something private with no one watching. The entire world is staring at us right now, expecting a show. And Whiskey would be stupid not to give it to them. We're all just players in this show after all. I tried my best not to move. With how tightly the blade was pressed to my throat I was at risk of cutting myself if I moved.

He spoke in a whisper and I responded back in one, hoping the cameras couldn't pick up my begging, "Please- please- pl-please don't! Please! I'll go and leave you alone. Please..."