no peace for the wicked + Malachor&Hafen
May 1, 2024 5:59:38 GMT -5
Post by d11a tsiuri dermott ☕ minie on May 1, 2024 5:59:38 GMT -5
Weakness could be a weapon just as much as it was an act. Little girls so fragile and breakable, skinny arms that could snap in a matter of seconds. Pale skin forming bruises quicker than average upon impact of the corner of a wooden desk. Broken beyond what people might consider repair was only a state of mind.
My first act of the games with Fraser was a mighty good show. We had gathered a crowd with children pointing their fingers at the poor weak girl from four. As destructible as they come was the goal, a strong older boy giving the damned one last rite of dignity.
The other tributes had watched me attack another, electrocute myself and break down in desperation. A wounded animal, dying of something uncontrollable with the reminisce of a rapid fangs that could have once slit your throat with ease. The ghost of someone who was once mighty and strong had left an empty shell inching closer to death with every breath. What a beautiful show it was, indeed, stereotypical of the mad woman who lost whatever she had a little too soon. My strength still in my back pocket hiding in plain site when all everyone had yet to see was weakness.
Strength in weakness. Weakness covering for the mighty. Mighty weakness they could not see.
Easy pickings from a fruitful tree.
A tactic already emerging in the day, too late to back down know once the cards were laid. Friendships had never played a significant role in my life, not in the cabin and not in the cage. Those bonding over lives they had lost were only fooling themselves. Tributes jumping in front of camera’s loosing site of what really matter. Everyone else too obsessed with themselves to take a good look at the other tribute.
We can fix her. We can use her. Our little plaything. Weak little girl from district four taking a punch, one after the other. Who was next? Who wanted to claw their way at ghost. Try as they might, there was no god who had ever controlled me. No human would even be able to come close.
Carefully I watched the girl from two approach, my pleading face begging her to leave me alone. The voice in the back of my head laughing in glory and gore. Soon enough she would come to understand, just like the rest, they would be the one walking the plank.
“You got something to say?” agony ripping through my skin. “Please, I had enough…I don’t want any trouble.” my body falling back on the ground as I treid to distance myself from her.
Would she dance to the sound of my wretched drum?
