curve of old bones [basterds]

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pogue
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1,811 POSTS

Pronouns: He/Him
last seen Apr 16, 2024 18:41:45 GMT -5

Is she trying to interrupt our henna session?

curve of old bones [basterds] Mar 20, 2023 15:04:57 GMT -5

Quote

Post by pogue on Mar 20, 2023 15:04:57 GMT -5

A R L O

"All I'm sayin'-"

There's a rusted throwing knife laced between his fingers as he speaks, stands in his own shadow and watches it pull itself thin as the sun falls above. "-is that Two got exactly what it deserved."

It feels treacherous to say considering where they stand, where they live, what they are and what they are forced to be. It feels treacherous, and it feels fuckin' good. He fiddles with the blade for a moment longer before shifting his stance and snapping his wrist, metal leaves flesh with nothing but the ice of its handle and makes a solid first impression on the makeshift training dummy in front of him, deep in the chest. Enough to maim, not enough to kill- yet.

"Lil off-center there, boy."

"Better imagining them bleed out. And, fuck off."

He darts a gaze, ice blue eyes alive with the same fire that runs in the bones of a Basterd towards Hugo, letting it linger for a moment before cracking a grin all yellow and smoke-stained. There's a tooth missing in there now and the blood is still left over, clinging to the glob of spit he shoots to the soil below. He'd enjoyed the smuggest of families suddenly shitting bricks in their pants at the shift in industry and he'd made it known plenty. He'd give that Bellisario prick one thing: he could at least hit hard.

It's not lost on him that his family's position is only held up by their dad's worth to the Capitol, that they could just as easily be dead rather than alive, that it might be better. Damned if they did, damned if they don't, he passes his next knife to his brother and ponders the thought, then spits out the words.

"Wouldn't be surprised if they picked Pops off next."

Words left unsaid cling to the venom in the air, then us.

Last Edit: Mar 20, 2023 15:05:07 GMT -5 by pogue

alex 🐺
Veteran Member

999 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Apr 18, 2024 5:14:24 GMT -5

a la folie

curve of old bones [basterds] Apr 14, 2023 3:14:25 GMT -5

Quote

Post by alex 🐺 on Apr 14, 2023 3:14:25 GMT -5

I spit the shell from between my front teeth. Hey, at least I still got mine. Can't say the same for Arlo though...

The saliva mixes with blood on the ground. Not that you can tell. Rust and dirt cover everything here like smoke bombs strewn across a battlefield, like a memory. That’s how you knew you were in Two. Rust clings to their skin like a birthmark, like a scar. Rust and blood warpaint fit for the battles they fought.

Arlo’s on one of his rants again, fingering a knife the way he wished he finger somethin’ else, but his aim is shit. And he’s clearly distracted.

"Lil off-center there, boy." I rasp and when Arlo curses me, I curse the fucker right back, middle fingers raised to the sky.

The knife is passed wordlessly, and I jump off the rusted-out truck. My boots are brand new and squeaky in the way good leather always is when it’s fresh. But when I step before the dummy, my jaw clenching and unclenching, I gotta swallow back words that threaten to break free. Arlo’s prediction has been bouncing around in my skull for days now, even if Arlo would say that I don't have half a brain to think, let alone worry.

"Wouldn't be surprised if they picked Pops off next."

”They wouldn’t dare,” I say before exhaling loudly, eyes downcast before raising to the dummy, my shoulders set and stance even just like we were taught. My hand is level with the dummy's chest - V I O L E N C E dances across my knuckles.

The knife leaves my hand like it's got wings of its own and strikes the dummy in the left shoulder. Too high to hit anything important.

“The old man is worth more to them alive than dead. Who else would they task to take out the trash?”

♛