A New Beginning [D10 Train]

Izzabel Bennet D8A (Jorg)
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Wishing I was Ryan Gosling’s Ken, Knowing I’m Scott Evan’s Ken

A New Beginning [D10 Train] May 31, 2023 19:38:04 GMT -5

Post by Izzabel Bennet D8A (Jorg) on May 31, 2023 19:38:04 GMT -5

Elijah Ringenberg

The Train to Ascension

After the Reaping, where a person volunteered to be in the Arena, Elijah had a few moments with his commune before he was escorted to the train. Father promoted him to Divine during this time, which is all Elijah ever wanted. His heart was filled with joy that Ripred had chosen him to walk this same path, and he couldn't help but wonder if the person who volunteered also heard Ripred's call. Now that he was on the train, though, he wasn't sure how to start preparing for this trail. He wishes he could talk to Ansgar Todd and see if the holiest would offer any sort of wisdom to him, but New God Ansgar Todd was nowhere to be found on the train. Elijah can't help but feel disappointed, this perfect chance to meet the man he has worshipped, walking the same path as his God on the 20th anniversary of his own ascension, and yet here Elijah sits by himself in the Dining Car of the train. Part of him knows that he should reach out to the other Victors, to try and get any sort of insight. Todd had to learn from those before him and only relied on his faith in Ripred; maybe Todd is testing Elijah by putting him through the same road of ascension.

However, Elijah is a little bitter because he always thinks that his church and religion should give back to those who are not as lucky as him. And his God is in a perfect position to do that, Yet Elijah only finds disappointment in his God's behavior. His is the first of his church to be chosen, so he knew this would not be an easy task, yet he wishes he had help, but he's not sure if he can swallow his pride and go against his faith to ask. Granted, he's not sure how to go about talking with non-church members, to begin with. For the past seven years, Elijah wasn't allowed to speak with anyone outside the community, but he knows his life relies on it now. And that thought only adds more pressure and anxiety to his situation. He steels himself, telling himself that he will talk to the first person that walks into the Dining Car, briefly asking Ripred for forgiveness if it's one of the False Gods. Once he hears the door open, he stands up and walks to meet them.

"Hi, I'm Elijah; what's your name?" he asks, his voice not as strong as he hoped it would be.

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Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]
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cameron stood in line for an hour for a stupid ride for me <3 best <3

A New Beginning [D10 Train] May 31, 2023 21:11:31 GMT -5

Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on May 31, 2023 21:11:31 GMT -5

♕ m a c e ♕

❝ one more word,
and you won't survive ❞

There had been complications.

First, and most pressingly, that Ma was not doing well. He didn't understand if that was a new status quo or if it was urgent. Even if it was the latter, he did not have the power to delay a reaping.

Only a god could do that.

Second, they'd had another volunteer. A Gamble, and Mace knew in his gut what that meant.

So, he's tardy to arrive at the train, and even tardier arriving at the Dining Car, even though it's usually the first stop. After decades of insistence, he finally relents to the stylist's routine: a quick scrubbing of hands and face, a fresh shirt, and if the stylist brushes a little mascara and pats a bit of coverup, well, Mace doesn't grumble too loudly.

When the dining car door whispers aside, Mace's stomach growls right on cue. "Hi, I'm Elijah; what's your name?"

The rumbling arrests. Mace scans the room, glances at the ceiling corners. There's no camera crew but of course the spy eyes are in place. It could still be a trap, a way to humiliate him. It's happened before. But with only the corner cameras to capture his reaction? He shifts his weight. "M-Mace?," he says and despite his fifty-some years, his voice cracks.

One last look of consternation at the cameras, and he slowly, begrudgingly, accepts what Saffron whispered to him on the walk there: one of their tributes has been corrupted by the Church of Todd.

"Mace Emberstatt. Victor."

He half offers an open palm and then retracts it. He isn't sure if godly folks shake. "But it's been a long, long time since that happened. Elijah, right?" He fixes the tribute with cold, grey eyes. "Find somethin' good to eat yet?"

credit umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

credit ✨ zozo.

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Izzabel Bennet D8A (Jorg)
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last seen Nov 22, 2024 15:23:15 GMT -5

Wishing I was Ryan Gosling’s Ken, Knowing I’m Scott Evan’s Ken

A New Beginning [D10 Train] Jun 5, 2023 23:58:25 GMT -5

Post by Izzabel Bennet D8A (Jorg) on Jun 5, 2023 23:58:25 GMT -5

Elijah Ringenberg

The Train to Ascension

"M-Mace?" the man in front of me states, his voice faltering just as much as mine. Neither one of us feels entirely comfortable in our own skin right now.

"Mace Emberstatt. Victor." the man states, offering his hand before quickly retracting it. Father Garcia had warned about how outsiders would view me as a church member. And this man is a Victor, one of the False Gods Father preached about. We took in his kid Mason when he showed up at our doorstep, but how do I interact with one I was taught to fear? It seems that Mace decides for me, though.

"But it's been a long, long time since that happened. Elijah right? Find something good to eat yet?" Mace's tone is casual, but his cold eyes bear on me. His eyes are intimidating yet somehow captivating as if he can see into my soul and see the doubt that is blooming in me. It takes me a moment before I realize he's expecting an answer.

"Not yet, though I would not oppose some company," I say as I gesture to the fully stocked table. I'm unsure if I should bring up Mason; uncertain of their relationship before Mason joined our ranks. I can't help but wonder if Victors are just human, just like us. Though the thought of Ansgar Todd as just human is a tad unsettling. If Ansgar Todd was just a human with extreme faith, what made him unique enough to win?

I slightly shake my head at that thought; for a while, it can still be considered blasphemous, but my faith is starting to waver. Ansgar Todd had not deigned to grace me with his presence, yet Mace Emberstatt stands here, unsure of what to make of me, at least attempting. Can I fault him for being nervous around someone like me? I was raised in what others have considered a cult, and Father can sometimes be overzealous in his preaching.

"Can I ask you a potentially tense question?" I ask him as I sit down and take the first piece of fruit before me. "Has Ansgar Todd been around? I'm grateful that you're willing to talk to me, don't get me wrong, but I can't help but wonder if my faith has been misplaced." my voice trails off at the end, the disappointment clearly evident in my voice. Not sure if it's a disappointment as it honestly might be more fearful that I've wasted my life towards something that would have never filled my cup.

I've had a hard genuinely believing in the teachings Father Garcia preaches, but the strong sense of duty and loyalty has kept me in the church. How can I abandon the man that saved me, no matter how sacrilege it might be, to keep walking down a path I'm not committed to? I crave a family, and to see Mason find one in us has been inspiring, yet I can't help but wonder if Father and Tanner truly loved me as a family or just saw me as someone who could be controlled. I'm not sure I fully process his answer before I hear the door swoosh open. I reactively straighten up, plastering a fake smile that doesn't reach my eyes.

"Oh, hi there! Come join us, please!" I say, grateful that I don't have to continue to face the ever-constant screaming of emotions that threaten to burst out of me.

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pogue
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Is she trying to interrupt our henna session?

A New Beginning [D10 Train] Jun 6, 2023 8:49:07 GMT -5

Post by pogue on Jun 6, 2023 8:49:07 GMT -5

His chest hurts.

Open palm and closed wound, Krueger Gamble sits with a spotlight to die for shining on him, beads of sweat carving their veins down his forehead, curling around his chin before dripping down into his lap. There are breaths that curl up in shallow lungs, resting in the abscesses and clawing slowly out through his throat.

Labored and intense, it feels like the world is begging to close in on him as the train slowly begins to pull itself away from his own mortality and his old life, swaying trees slowly beginning to bleed into one another as the world stops turning, a boy and a stage and a coffin he wouldn't escape from. He leaves the citizens of District Ten behind but inherits their ghosts, feels them resting in the shadow of his dying heart decision, in the ice that creeps into his veins as he sits in the cold air of an empty train car.

His chest hurts. Jack had pounded his fists into the skin with all the fury that he could muster back in the Town Hall, anger breaking into sobbing into regret into empty silence and shallow heartbeats. His chest hurts and his heart follows, resting underneath black and blue flowers that bloom from beneath his flesh, a bouquet fit for nothing but a funeral and a final resting place. He'll carry them with him no matter how far he runs, one final show and one final spectacle.

Krueger Gamble rests on his own decisions and realizes it's nothing but a bed of spikes, destined to lay in petals of crimson and scarlet, to look at the sky as it melts and know what this train car is racing towards. There's regret that bubbles up from the pit of his stomach, baring fangs and sharpened claws, but there's an arrogance and a delusional form of assurance that writes itself into his last name, Gamble, showmanship and security. It's why he's able to bite it back, choke it down. It's why there's a smile that he carves into his skin when the avox enters his train car, a ghost of many and drowning in silence, escorting him out and towards the common area.

There's echoes of a conversation that drift through the thin doors between his car and their own, blurred shapes behind the glass and small scuffs in the walls telling stories of tributes come and tributes gone. Krueger hears the voice of one of the few that made it back, more for worse than better, cutting through the air and resting heavy in the vicinity. There's so much silence in a place like this, and so many ghosts, it feels almost unfair that a man like Mace has to speak for all of them at once. He almost feels sorry, almost.

But Ten is a place of rumors and half-baked truths, little birdies swirling in between open lips and dying hearts. Once the troupe had settled down they'd started drowning in rumors and secrets of Ten itself, written in the late nights and empty bottles and the environment of a ghost-ridden rodeo. He'd learned to navigate it, somewhat, a childhood spent watching and a lifetime spent understanding, pulling the mask up to his face and burning it into his skin. It made it easier then, to live, to survive. Now, it just makes it easier to step into a room with two different bodies, one forced to live and the other destined for something else, with enough calmness to give the impression that he truly expects to live.

Cult and worship, two different kinds. He shifts his gaze from his fellow tribute and to the empty shell of a victor in front of him, eyes unwavering as if he's looking through him. Mace is bigger in person, hulking and stoic, but Krueger is far too prideful and steeled to resolution to show it so soon. It's why he rests in the silence for what feels like far too long, like he's biting at the rumors and the thoughts that have swirled from Mace's ancient legacy, a crown heavier than the sins it took to claim it. Rallying against the way his heartbeat pounds through his chest as he sizes up one of the few who'd made it home, he finally shifts on his feet and relaxes only to a certain extent, claiming his presence in a room of ghost.

"Mace Emberstatt. Victor."

Krueger pounces on the crack in his voice and the chink in the man's armor, swallowing back his own nerves to make sure his voice comes out steadfast and assured. He rolls his dice, gamble, throws a bet into the air. "Can't expect everyone to know your name forever.", he remarks, rasping voice causing it to come out almost as a low growl. It's a jab at a fading legacy and a step into hypocrisy, knowing how fast he could be forgotten, how so much was at stake in making sure it was the opposite.

Dice rolled, snake eyes.

Last Edit: Jun 6, 2023 8:49:28 GMT -5 by pogue