After-words [atoa/Danny]
May 9, 2011 12:35:24 GMT -5
Post by A Toa's Friend (atoafriend) on May 9, 2011 12:35:24 GMT -5
--{Diethelm Wickario, 3rd person}]
Diethelm picked his way through the overgrown lawn of what used to be the cemetary. Well, it still WAS a cemetary, but whoever had been tasked to clean up and look after it was long gone. Probably dragged off or executed, Diethelm thought tartly, the mix of green and dead grass crunching beneath his feet. He was the only person out of his friends who came around the cemetary anymore to see Jayson's grave: Patryck would start loosing it, Terry mumbled something along the lines of "haunted" when coming here was mentioned, and Fyuori insisted she had put it all behind her.
Wow, he thought when he approached the worn-out headstone, overgrown with grass and moss, has it really been three years? Before today the 54th Hunger Games seemed like another life; now it felt just like yesterday "Jayson Calloway" had been called up to the podium on Reaping day. He remembered it clear as daylight, how the shock passed over his friend's face as his name was called, how he and Patryck supported each other as the crowd dispersed, an stony expression on Terry's face as he stood nearby, and how Fyuori gave the podium a murderous glance before coming to slowly coax them away from the square and somehow to her house. It had been as if a brick had been removed from a wall and the whole struction came tumbling down.
And then, slowly, ever so slowly, they began to repair. Not really rebuilding, because they were never the same as before, but there was something resebling a pile of bricks and cement together. Fyuori had recovered the quickest, repairing her own wall to stand just as tall as before and maybe even sturdier. Patryck was for sure never going to completely recover; he would start breaking down into tear whenever Jayson was brought up. No one every really knew what was happening with Terry, but he seemed to have lapsed into some state of stony silence for the longest time, until a year afterwards when a fed-up Fyuori dragged him to some remote corner of the school and yelled some sense back into him. Diethelm himself had recovered okay, although there were times when he came to the verge of tears.
This was one of those rare times when he, like Patryck would. A million things flew through his head as he sobbed in front of the grave of "Jayson Calloway, D. 10 male tribute in the 54th Hunger Games". "He didn't even stand a chance!" a furious Fyuori yelled at no one in particular right after the first night. That had been the worse: not even five minutes into the game, and Jayson didn't even have time to raise his arms before another tribute took him out. That had been the worst night ever: Fyuori was screaming herself hoarse, Terry was actually in tears, and both himself and Patryck could not form a single coherent thought.
"I should have volunteered," Diethelm muttered, more to himself, as the tears kept coming. "I didn't because I was too scared, too scared to save my best friend! It should've been me..." And then he could almost hear (and feel) Fyuori yelling at him and beating him over the shoulder, telling him to pull it together and to not let these things "get to him". Whatever that meant.
Diethelm picked his way through the overgrown lawn of what used to be the cemetary. Well, it still WAS a cemetary, but whoever had been tasked to clean up and look after it was long gone. Probably dragged off or executed, Diethelm thought tartly, the mix of green and dead grass crunching beneath his feet. He was the only person out of his friends who came around the cemetary anymore to see Jayson's grave: Patryck would start loosing it, Terry mumbled something along the lines of "haunted" when coming here was mentioned, and Fyuori insisted she had put it all behind her.
Wow, he thought when he approached the worn-out headstone, overgrown with grass and moss, has it really been three years? Before today the 54th Hunger Games seemed like another life; now it felt just like yesterday "Jayson Calloway" had been called up to the podium on Reaping day. He remembered it clear as daylight, how the shock passed over his friend's face as his name was called, how he and Patryck supported each other as the crowd dispersed, an stony expression on Terry's face as he stood nearby, and how Fyuori gave the podium a murderous glance before coming to slowly coax them away from the square and somehow to her house. It had been as if a brick had been removed from a wall and the whole struction came tumbling down.
And then, slowly, ever so slowly, they began to repair. Not really rebuilding, because they were never the same as before, but there was something resebling a pile of bricks and cement together. Fyuori had recovered the quickest, repairing her own wall to stand just as tall as before and maybe even sturdier. Patryck was for sure never going to completely recover; he would start breaking down into tear whenever Jayson was brought up. No one every really knew what was happening with Terry, but he seemed to have lapsed into some state of stony silence for the longest time, until a year afterwards when a fed-up Fyuori dragged him to some remote corner of the school and yelled some sense back into him. Diethelm himself had recovered okay, although there were times when he came to the verge of tears.
This was one of those rare times when he, like Patryck would. A million things flew through his head as he sobbed in front of the grave of "Jayson Calloway, D. 10 male tribute in the 54th Hunger Games". "He didn't even stand a chance!" a furious Fyuori yelled at no one in particular right after the first night. That had been the worse: not even five minutes into the game, and Jayson didn't even have time to raise his arms before another tribute took him out. That had been the worst night ever: Fyuori was screaming herself hoarse, Terry was actually in tears, and both himself and Patryck could not form a single coherent thought.
"I should have volunteered," Diethelm muttered, more to himself, as the tears kept coming. "I didn't because I was too scared, too scared to save my best friend! It should've been me..." And then he could almost hear (and feel) Fyuori yelling at him and beating him over the shoulder, telling him to pull it together and to not let these things "get to him". Whatever that meant.
