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shrimp
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:|-captus-|: [hedwig] Jan 11, 2011 22:43:01 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Jan 11, 2011 22:43:01 GMT -5

wilson gregory macintosh
his actions - 2D5F96 / his words - 899FB8
his memories, his song - 535E6B

You're not getting out of this one.

He found himself in complete darkness, not knowing where Ariadne was being stored. Frantic, he began to attempt to stand, but quickly fell. He had a feeling that he was in the air though - the rumbling underneath his feet could determine whether he was in a car or hovercraft. However, the fact that the two had been picked up in the forest would most likely mean the latter option. All he could remember though was telling the girl to run, and then... Nothing, save for a sharp squeeze of his ribs, and the feeling of being propelled upwards.

Yes, definitely a hovercraft, he reasoned. The Peacekeepers had been rowdy, for he also remembered being hit and shoved into a small room, blindfolded and hands tied. He felt helpless - anyone could do anything to him now, and it wouldn't be close to pretty. There would be no point to scream or shout in frustration - nobody listening would care. In fact, they would probably send someone in here to give him something to scream about. The choice of torture would probably be something that made him scream in agony - perhaps a few kicks in the groin or ribs, or the breakage of a bone or two. But he wouldn't die, that much was for certain. One of the Peacekeeper had said his name as he boarded the ship, and it was likely that it wasn't for winning an honorary acting award from the Capitol (like he could do that anyways).

So he just sat there, sitting against the wall, his head resting on the cold, hard surface that offered slight rest from the strenuous day that he was having at the moment. The boy must have been pretty tired, because before he knew it, he was opening his eyes, a yawn being emanated from his throat. Perhaps he had just taken a nap for a few hours - he couldn't have known. The blindfold simply irked him. He perferred to actually see where he was going, not be blindly led into who knows where. Where was he going anyway? All of those "bad folk", or at least, that's what the District 10 mayor called them, were sent to...

Oh dear god, no.

The Detention Center. Yes, that's definitely where he was going. There was no doubt in his mind that he would be arrested for murder, as well as trespassing in the woods. Perhaps his actions in 8 had caught up for him, and he'd be charged with visiting another district, vandalism and theft. Great. Sure, he did those actions (save for the murder, obviously) for the good of Ariadne and himself, but what did that accomplish? A trip to torture city? Yes, that's exactly what happened.

Some time later (perhaps it was a few hours, or a few centuries; Greg had lost count), he heard a noise, similar to a door opening. Suddenly, he was grabbed, and practically dragged out of the room, his little weight doing little to slow down the Peacekeepers, who made remarks about how catching him was going to possibly get them promotions. I didn't know I was such a wanted guy, he vaguely thought, before the blindfold was ripped off, and the glare of the burning sun hit him. He stiffed a groan, and simply squinted against the sunlight, his eyesight trailing towards the building in which he was being led into.

As if the guards were able to read the boy's mind, one of them simply stated "Welcome to hell," before shoving him once more, leading him closer and closer towards the archway that simply yelled "torture", with its pitch black insides. He began to squirm a bit - Wilson Gregory Macintosh did not want to go into that desolate place. He began to try to get out from his captors' grasps, squirming a bit. The only thing he got in return was a punch in the face. The rest of the way, he was half-pushed half-dragged into the building.

All was quiet as he walked towards his cell. The dirty rooms that smelled of urine and dirt did little to brighten his talkative spirits as he simply stared at what was to be his new home for who knew how long. He hoped that Ariadne had better conditions than himself, and he secretly pleaded for the toilet to be able to flush on its own accord, without any manual unclogging needed. Excrement was disgusting, but combined with other peoples' excrement, as well as dirty water and urine, a horribly grotesque and unsanitary glob of mess was created, and Greg did not feel like touching that in the slightest bit.

There were also two beds here, so Greg quickly assumed that he would have a new roommate. Perhaps the man (he assumed it would be a male, weren't prisons segregated by gender?) would quickly overpower him, using him for a punching bag, possibly even as his own personal sex toy, which he really did not find to be an exciting prospect. In fact, the mere thought about having to submit to another person's carnal desires simply brought on a slight wave of nausea, and he had to sit on a bed to make sure that the feeling would pass.

Not long after that, he heard another person's footsteps enter the cell, causing the hair on the back of his arms to stand up a tad bit, and he slowly looked up, staring at the person's face. Who was it? What guy would he be talking to for the next few day-

"Ariadne."

Last Edit: Jan 11, 2011 23:41:24 GMT -5 by shrimp

Rosetta
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:|-captus-|: [hedwig] Jan 12, 2011 13:17:23 GMT -5

Post by Rosetta on Jan 12, 2011 13:17:23 GMT -5

Ariadne
Writing: 006064
Speech: 006E4A
Other Speech:024C68

Ariadne's eyes snapped open, wildly, but only met cloth, and darkness. She was lying on her back, she could feel the cold floor below her. She was vibrating, humming, or the floor was. She was moving. Or she was in something that was moving. Confusion, confusion, puzzlement. Muddled thoughts struggled to make themselves clear in her mind, but swiftly sank back into the muck. She made to raise her head, but quickly dropped it again onto the ground, groaning in pain. The was pain, a lot of it. Pain everywhere, evenly distributed around her body. Pain in her head, her arm, her busted shoulder, her wrists. She at least knew where some of it was from. Her shoulder, when she'd been stabbed by some crazy...and her arm and her head...

Oh shit.

The memories flooded back now. She had to run, run through the forest, Greg told her so, run, she could run, she's been running most of her life, whether for the heck of it, or to escape, she could certainly run. Run through the forest, the forest which a minute ago had been so quiet. Peacefully quiet, birds rustling in the branches, animals skittering across the leaves, all was at peace. Then, it happened. All the birds in the surrounding trees had taken to the skies, swiftly, in unison, as if planned. And the quiet was shattered by shouting and the sound of sticks breaking, feet running. Run! She needed to run! But, there were people, too many people, Peacekeepers, everywhere, and hands reaching for her. Hands that knocked her only weapon, her beautiful javelin, aside, and forced her to the ground.

Now she was screaming, flailing wildly, trying as hard as she could to escape, her hurt shoulder searing, but there came a stabbing pain in her arm, and before she could register that they probably shot from drug into her system, the darkness closed in. And the darkness was still there. Over her eyes. A blindfold. She could feel the bindings cutting into her wrists, and she winced. They'd been caught. Well, she was at least. She had no idea about Greg. All she could do was hope he'd made it away. But the odds were against them.

Ariadne rolled over to her good side, taking a deep shaking breath. However, her legs trembled, shaking violently, making small thumps against the metal ground. Where were they taking her? To the Capitol? Would they kill her there? Publicly? Would she be made an example before the people of the Districts? Her parents see her? The mysterious C.T.? Would they gasp, seeing their daughter there, or sniff and turn away? Or would she just be regarded as another criminal? Just another…Her legs shook harder then ever.

I don't want to die.

The words repeated themselves over and over in her head. And that was the truth. Death meant no blood flowing through her veins, it meant her heart stopped, it meant she never moved again. It meant she wouldn't be able to run through the forest again. Or walk. Oh, she thought, weakly, if I ever survive this, I'll always walk through the forest, not run, I’ll walk, not run! If she survived, of course... No, no, no!

She wanted to scream, shout, and cry all at once, but she wouldn't let herself. If she was to die, there was nothing to be done, except lie here, quietly, her heart racing, her stomach lurching horribly, flip-flopping, hot bile rising in her throat. Sweat was pouring down her sides by the time the humming stopped. Whatever she was in stopped. And there was silence. Silence, and silence. Was that what death was going to be like? Just silence and darkness?

She couldn't brood on this too long, because a moment later, the sound of clattering met her ears, and there were more hands. Hands pulling to her feet roughly, and forcing her forward. Her feet refused to move, and tripped over one another, but the firm grips on her arms kept her up, pulling her out of this humming place, and into another. A draft went up her spine, a definite chill, marking that this place lacked heat of any kind. The blindfold was removed, as well as the bindings around her wrists, and she blinked in the sudden light. Her eyes quickly adjusted, because there wasn’t much light to adjust to.

A dark hallway, stretching on, with black doors on either side, and one on the end. And the smell...a putrid smell that was unexplainable. Her nose wrinkled, and her stomach lurched, but their was no escape from the odor. What was this terrifying place? Her legs shook harder than ever, and the men holding her, chortled, as they made her walk across the damp ground.

"Caught ourselves a good one." One cackled, using his free hand, his long, yellowing fingernail found her face, and slid down her cheek, finally cupping under her chin, forcing it upward to his cruel, laughing face. Hatred boiled over the despair and fear in her stomach, and she jerked backward, only bang into the guard on her other side, who wasn't so jovial, and gripped her arm tight as ever, making her grimace in pain, sure to leave a mark.

"Right here." He muttered, angrily, opening a door to his right door and pushing her inside. She staggered for a moment, as the heavy door clanged shut behind her. Her eyes glanced around, wildly, to take in just the bare essentials filling the room. Oh great. For a moment, she stood there, confused, contemplating her next course of action. She wanted nothing more than to collapse into one of those creaky cots, and sleep, praying that when she woke up, she'll be in the forest. With Greg or Asimila. Either, or neither. Anywhere but here. And then, a single word made her jump.

"Ariadne."

She wheeled around and saw him, a huddled form on one of the beds. Greg. Without hesitation, she threw herself at him in a tight hug. She didn't care how odd it was. She needed to feel someone familiar to know she was still sane for the time being. She had told herself not to cry, but now, hot tears flooded her moss-green eyes and threatened to overflow. Fear caused a lump in her throat, a choked sob escaping her, suddenly. No, she couldn't cry now! She pulled away from Greg, and wiped the tears away, impatiently.

"Oh thank goodness!" She cried, standing before him, her chest heaving, rubbing her aching wrists. "Greg, are you alright?" She quickly looked him over, and saw he'd been beat up, and guilt filled her stomach, a tidal wave, overcoming the fear. "Oh no." She muttered, backing up, slowly, and sinking into the opposite bed, into damp, musty sheets, that smelled like an old caucus left out in the forest on a hot day. Her hands found her tangled nest of hair, and gripped it, like a life line. "Where are we? What's going on? Do you know?" She begged him for answers, whining like a small child. "No, no, no..."

Now her filthy hands made their way over her face, and she leaned over, as if she had a stomach ache, resting her elbows on her legs. "Greg..." Tears left dirt trails across her face, and the more she tried to wipe them away, the dirtier and wetter her face became, until she finally gave up, and planted her hands at her side. She gripped the thin mattress, her fingernails digging into to the thin sheets, surely causing holes. She swallowed, hard, trying to get rid of that lump, but it remained, stubbornly. "Oh no, this is really bad, isn't it...?"

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, and suddenly remembered. Her hands swiftly went to her back pocket. No, no, if both her pockets were empty...no...no, not her baby blanket! They couldn't have taken it! She only managed to salvage a small ripped piece, slightly larger than her hand, rough, and torn. It was too much. Sobs racked her body, sending shudders up and down her spine, as she stroked that one small fragment that she had. It had the C.T., carefully embroidered on it. Like C.T. even cared about her! If they'd cared, they wouldn't have left her in the first place. She wouldn't be in this situation at the moment, and neither would Greg!

The undeniable truth, it had to be. Her damn parents hadn't cared a thing about her. They'd left her, leaving the smallest clue ever. Maybe they hadn’t even realized. Hadn't they knew their daughter would try to find them? No, probably not. She'd been left alone as a baby, barely a few months old, in the forest in mid-winter. Whoever had done it, had done it with one intention in mind: to kill her. Her parents had left her to die. Right? Right?!

Maybe she was drawing crazy conclusions, maybe she was already insane. Either way, it didn't matter. All that mattered was she was sitting in some cell, crying like a baby. She was stronger than that! Ariadne took a deep, trembling breath, to steady herself, forcing herself to stop. Now, still small hiccups escaping her mouth, she made herself look straight at Greg's face and speak, in a quiet voice, barely audible, a voice that wavered and shook across the empty space. She sounded so innocent, like a little girl, asking some one older for help. Which was exactly what she was doing. "What's going to happen now?"

Last Edit: Jan 12, 2011 13:18:12 GMT -5 by Rosetta

^^Made by the excellent Shrimp!

shrimp
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:|-captus-|: [hedwig] Jan 12, 2011 14:45:42 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Jan 12, 2011 14:45:42 GMT -5

wilson gregory macintosh
his actions - 2D5F96 / his words - 899FB8
his memories, his song - 535E6B

His voice was much more hoarse than he had thought it was going to sound. He vaguely wondered what he had done to make it so rough, so scratchy. Perhaps he had gotten a cold, or somehow the Peacekeepers had damaged him enough to make his vocal chords overused. Maybe he cried out in agony during the flight. After all, he didn't know how certain wound had appeared; perhaps he blocked those moments out of his memory subconsciously. But he had to put that all aside right now. The moment wasn't about him again. This time, it was about the two of them.

She was here. Ariadne was actually here. He wasn't completely sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing, but it would be good to have some company during the last few fleeting moments that they'd probably have together. But... if she was here... Then she had gotten caught. So she wasn't safe. Immediately, his relief turned into dread. What was going to happen to her? She had traveled with him, hadn't she? And if the Peacekeepers were so eager to turn him in... Wouldn't she be in trouble due to association? Granted, her arrest warrant was probably much smaller than his: she had been the planner of the group. He just tried to find ways to accomplish certain tasks, and if that meant breaking into medical centers and sneaking around, so be it.

Then there was a tight squeezing around his chest, and he knew that this time, it wasn't to entrap him and send him into somewhere horrible. Ariadne... was hugging him. This had never happened in the history of history. He had never touched her hand, or anything of the sort. It had been merely a friendly partnership, with no physical contact needed. So this was definitely an emergency situation. Greg did feel a bit relived that the girl had been worried about him, but the fact that the two were already making precedents was unnerving to him. Why did she decide to hug him? Did she know too, that their time spent together was to be limited?

Ariadne sobbed then, and quickly backed up to take a look at him. Greg was still reeling from the fact that his companion was so... on edge, that he didn't realize she was looking at his bruises until she let out a soft exclamation. "Oh no." The boy looked up at his companion, ready to exclaim that it was no big deal, but she had already gone into (in his opinion) hysterics. She backed up, sitting on the bed on the opposite side of the room.

"Where are we? What's going on? Do you know? No, no, no..."

He wished he could console her. But he was pretty sure that the only thing that could help her cope with this right now was by telling the truth. However, the truth would be shocking. Perhaps it would hurt the girl, to have her realize that there was no way out, that she simply had to comply with the putrid Peacekeepers' directions, follow their commands. Sure, he didn't want to do it either, but Greg had already followed orders before. His "father's" scathing remarks were always enough to cause Greg to attempt to do his best. Ariadne had been alone for all her life, making her own decisions. Clearly, following orders could be a problem for her.

"Greg... Oh no, this is really bad, isn't it...?"

There were tears now, glistening in the dim light that shined through the metal bars. She was crying. Sure, this was only the second time he ever saw this, but this time it was different. She wasn't crying because of pain. She was crying because she was helpless. He felt horrible about the whole business. Maybe if he hadn't tagged along, a target wouldn't have been put on her head. She could have continued to search for her parents. Who knows, maybe she would have found them by now, in some district where they would have enough money to take care of her. She'd be happy...

As if on cue, Ariadne desperately reached into her back pocket, pulling out a measly tattered rag of what was once the blanket. Greg's heart sank. They took it? The peacekeepers snatched the only thing linking Ariadne to her parents away? "Those fucking bastards..." He mumbled under his breath. If he was given the chance to throw a punch, then he'd do so. She was only what, 15? 16? She didn't deserve to be treated so horribly. Greg on the other hand, was turning 19 soon, already becoming an adult. Adults are supposed to get worse treatment in prisons, at least that's what he thought, so why take her only really precious belonging? She wasn't going to be able to do much with blanket anyways...

"What's going to happen now?"

Her words were so quiet, like she was helpless. He couldn't help but compare her speech to a mouse, even though he knew that she acted like anything but one of those tiny, scared creatures. Obviously, he was the one who had to speak now. But what was to be said? Surely she knew that there would be no escaping this place. Maybe she didn't know what this place was, but she would know that it was too heavily guarded to just leave. She'd be shot before even making it past the hallway. So it would be better to just tell her, right? Yes, Greg reasoned. It would be best to tell her everything that he knew about this place.

"We're in the Detention Center," he stated, slowly getting up. He paced slowly back and forth as he continued to speak. "It's a place where people go if they've done particularly illegal things. People talked about the torture that a prisoner goes through, before either being set free, killed, or avoxed." He shuddered for a second, thinking of the horrible pain of getting your tongue cut off. That was likely his fate. " Death would be too much of a gift for committing so many horrible acts", or at least that's what one of the Peacekeepers said.

"I assume that we're going to be interrogated. It's likely that you'll be set free; you really only were arrested for little charges, correct?" He didn't give her a moment to speak as he continued. The next part would be the hardest to say, hard for her to hear as well. But it was necessary for her to know everything. "I, on the other hand... Was arrested for 2 counts of Tresspassing in Capitol Woods, 2 counts of illegally visiting another district, Vandalising Property, assault, and..... Murder." He stopped, pausing to breathe. He trembled before speaking once more. "So, it's likely that... that..."

He couldn't finish. He just couldn't. Greg didn't want to accept what might happen to him. He didn't want to die, or be tortured, or be turned into an avox. But those events were almost 100% likely to occur, which was the problem. He simply sat down on his bed, and rubbed his temples, hoping that somehow, it would all just go away.

It's likely that this is the last time you'll see me like I am now.

Rosetta
Retired Staff

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last seen Aug 5, 2020 8:28:28 GMT -5

:|-captus-|: [hedwig] Jan 12, 2011 20:51:35 GMT -5

Post by Rosetta on Jan 12, 2011 20:51:35 GMT -5

Ariadne

[/font][/center]
//Writing: 006064
Speech: 006E4A
Other Speech:024C68//

When bad things happen, humans have a tendency to slow down. They need to stop, to think, hesitate, pause, anything. Their heart may slow, they may have to sit, they may be speechless, unresponsive. They need to make sense of what's in their mind. The disembodied words in the muddled mess, the darkness, all of it. Detention Center...crimes...avox... Ariadne stopped, she just stopped. Her fingers, tangled around the blanket fragment, became limp, and the fabric tumbled into her lap. She slouched further, and finally leaned back, against the wall, her eyes closing. Think...she needed to think...

So, this was the Detention Center. She'd only heard it in passing, from people in the Districts, nothing more. All she knew was, it was a complete and utter hell. Torture. That's the word they often used. They all feared it, prayed they'd never be sent there, prayed just as they prayed their children would never be Reaped. That's how bad it was. Her steady breath slowly became more ragged, shaking. Avox...what if they did that to her? She bit her tongue, feeling it still there. The wet mass in her mouth that allowed her to speak. Her stomach churned, and she hoped she wouldn't throw up. It would only add to the stench.

"I assume that we're going to be interrogated. It's likely that you'll be set free; you really only were arrested for little charges, correct?"

She opened her eyes to stare at Greg across the room, as he spoke. Little charges? Charges...yes, she'd heard them. She had been arrested on trespassing, illegally visiting Districts...so that wasn't major? It's likely that you'll be set free. For a moment, relief washed over her, and the butterflies in her stomach stopped fluttering. It was going to be alright...mostly...she sighed, her eyes sliding shut once more/ But, it was short lived. It shattered almost instantly, as soon as she heard Greg's next words.

"I, on the other hand... Was arrested for 2 counts of Trespassing in Capitol Woods, 2 counts of illegally visiting another district, Vandalizing Property, assault, and..... Murder."

Murder? No way. "That's not fair." She said, instantly, her eyes snapping open again, wide. She shook her head, shuffling her feet. They made a sound like sand scraping against pavement. "Not fair at all. That's a lie, you...you didn't do that!" She swallowed, and narrowed her eyes, indignantly. Not at Greg, no. But at the door. At whomever was beyond it. The Capitol. Whoever had the gut to lie about something like this. And condemn someone innocent, someone as young as Greg, to whatever horrible fate they had brewing. Her stomach lurched once more.

Ariadne licked her lips, and stood. She began pacing, her hand holding her wrist firmly behind her back. The room was small, so her pacing consisted of about two steps before she had to turn around. She soon became dizzy, but kept at it.

"I'm going to fix this." She said it as firmly as she could, but her voice gave her away. It shook again, and cracked. She spoke louder now, planting her feet to make a point."I...I can lie for you. I can say I did it." Her mind told her otherwise. Just take your punishment, let whatever's going to happen to him happen! You can't control it! You're 15, you're much too young to die or anything else!

She was 15. Well, she knew her 16 birthday was approaching. She didn't know her exact birthday, but when Asimila found her in the forest, it was January, this month. It just felt right to choose the month, and the date, January 22cd, as her birthday. The day had been gray and cold, but that just meant it was the opposite of sunny and warm. Which she loved best. When the sun made the air warm, and the grass perked up to it. When the light filtered green across the forest floor. When she could lie in a patch of dandelions and just fall asleep, not caring for the cold, or rain or anything. So, it was perfect. So, she was soon to be 16...which was much too young...much too young...

Yeah so? This is all your fault, all of it. You dragged Greg into this. It's your fault, your turn to take the blame for something.

It was about time. She'd let him help her far too much. It felt wrong. She felt like she'd manipulated him in some way, although he wanted to help her. She'd used his desire to find his real father to help her on her quest to find her parents, right? Maybe they weren't much different. Maybe they were looking for the same thing...but, still, she was looking first. He was just a normal kid in District 10! She had no boundaries. She knew the consequences if she got caught. He just had to stay within District 10, and mind the rules. She'd dragged him into her world, she'd put him in danger...it was her fault.

Despair and denial clouded her mind, over everything else. "This is my fault." She muttered, and looked at Greg, her eyebrows knit. "I'm so sorry. I really am. Oh gosh...I didn't...this is my fault....I-" She stopped then, her mouth still open, her unspoken words welling up in her throat, and then sinking back down, her arms falling limp at her sides. There was nothing more to be said.[/color][/size]

^^Made by the excellent Shrimp!

shrimp
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:|-captus-|: [hedwig] Jan 12, 2011 22:45:52 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Jan 12, 2011 22:45:52 GMT -5

wilson gregory macintosh
his actions - 2D5F96 / his words - 899FB8
his memories, his song - 535E6B

That's the Ariadne I know, the thought as the girl began to state things that were completely true. Yes, it wasn't fair. Yes, he didn't commit the murder of his own mother. But clearly, nobody else would believe him. This time, his own appearance would betray him. To some, he was a freak, and that'd all culminate to his step-father blaming his mother's murder on the son that he never found to be perfect. His step-father never liked so-called "freaks". Despised them actually. Perhaps that was why he was never liked...

Regardless, he was still in this position. There'd be no use in determining as to why he was in it, for that wouldn't do anything at all. So he distanced his thoughts from the man who never appreciated him, and returned to listening to Ariadne. But a part of him couldn't listen to her. It kept scolding him, saying you caused her to become noticed by the Capitol. If you hadn't attacked your step-father, this wouldn't have happened to her. Instead, you'd simply be an avox, and she'd be safe. It was right. He'd definitely be avoxed either way, wouldn't he. His step-father was a very influential man - nobody would believe that he had killed his wife in a fit of rage. He was royally screwed.

"I'm going to fix this. I...I can lie for you. I can say I did it."

The "normal" Greg would have scoffed at this comment, argued that there was nothing to be done. But what was the point? She wouldn't be believed either, for simple logical thinking. A 15-year old girl would not be able to club a woman with a paperweight so hard that it cracked her head, spilling brain matter and blood onto the parquet floor. A tall, 18-year old boy would. Simple logic, not to mention that the mayor never even saw Ariadne there in the first place, would cause everything to be blamed on himself.

"This is my fault. I'm so sorry. I really am. Oh gosh...I didn't...this is my fault....I-"

She simply stopped talking now, arms hanging at her sides. She seemed helpless, like she didn't know what to do. Well, of course she had no idea. The two of them were stuck in this place, without any chance of escape, and the prospects of death and torture hanging above their heads. The situation was hopeless. There was no getting out of it. Greg frowned slightly, eyebrows furrowed in an attempt to think of something... Anything, to make this girl feel better. But the problem was that it wasn't her who was going to get hurt. It was himself.

He was the one who was going to be tortured. He was the one who might die, or who might become an avox. Probably an avox - death in the Detention Center, although somewhat frequent, was never really performed on purpose. Ariadne wasn't in much trouble - perhaps she'd come out of the Detention Center with a little scar on her arm or something. Peacekeepers tended to leave a little reminder on prisoners, to make sure that they don't break the law again. Most likely, he wouldn't be with her.

So he did the only thing that he thought might help ease the situation. He hugged her. It was simply one of those comforting hugs, the kind that can involve the recipient crying their eyes out on the other person's shoulder, resting their head on their chest, eventually calming down. Truly, that was the only thing that he could think of. Words wouldn't help, and that seemed to be the only other option. So he stayed in that position, hugging her for a while, until he had the good sense to let go.

A feeble attempt to help, but an attempt nonetheless.

Rosetta
Retired Staff

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last seen Aug 5, 2020 8:28:28 GMT -5

:|-captus-|: [hedwig] Jan 13, 2011 18:17:24 GMT -5

Post by Rosetta on Jan 13, 2011 18:17:24 GMT -5

------------------------------------
//Writing: 006064
Speech: 006E4A
Other Speech:024C68//
------------------------------------
Ariadne let Greg hug her. It was comfortable, simply because she needed it. She put her head against his chest, because he was much taller than her, and listened to his heartbeat, which, surprisingly, calmed her. The steady thumping against her ear, and the warmth around her reminded her she didn't have to go this alone. Someone else was there. And slowly, but surely, she relaxed, her breathing slowing, and the tension in her shoulders fading. She wasn't alone...Finally, Greg released her.

She stood there for a moment, before taking a step back and settled on the hard bed again. She blew a piece of her hair, that had drifted into her eyes, out of her face, and looked up at Greg. Suddenly, the fear was back. She was afraid of what was going to happen to him. Murder...now that was heavy. And she knew she couldn't do anything to make them change their mind. She was a prisoner, a lowly 15 year old girl, speaking out against the Capitol. They could do unimaginable things to both of them, and they were probably already planning it. She was virtually worthless, she was just going to be their play thing, their example.

Her eyes darted about the room, searching for something...an escape, but there wasn't even a window in here, just a tiny light bulb that flickered above them. The heavy metal door was surely padlocked, unopenable, unless with some keys, which she lacked. And even if she managed to leave, she could hear the footsteps of guards, outside the door, walking back and forth, ensuring nobody left. They'd be only too happy to shoot her if she even made an attempt. And of course, she couldn't leave Greg behind, and since he wasn't the most agile, unlike her, they'd be caught in an instant.

She swallowed, and glanced back at Greg, with a small shake of her head, and a shrug. Might as well take what's coming for them. "So, interrogation..." Even the word sounded evil. Interrogation...that meant they were going to question them, but knowing the Capitol, she knew it was going to be something worse. Torture...she knew it. She hated pain more than anything. No one liked pain. But, she had a particular dislike of it. She endured pain far too often. It eventually got old. She even hated the ripped cuticles on her fingers that stung when she dipped her hands into water. Pain was something she'd always disliked, although she lived rough in the forest. She used to tell herself to tread carefully, to avoid tripping, or walking into anything. And now, she knew she was going to be tortured...be forced to endure pain on purpose...

Asimila had always told her to steer clear of anything in affiliation with the Capitol. She'd always said they were evil, not good people, and Ariadne had taken it lightly, even shrugging it off. Now, it was all too real, way too real. All those years she'd lived a sheltered life, many would not realize it, but she did. She didn't have to face the horrors of the Hunger Games, or live in fear of the Capitol at every waking minute. She could relax, but now, she was in serious trouble, and Greg was too. Her heart skipped a beat as she heard more footsteps outside. Where they coming for them? The footsteps faded off, and her throat opened again, and she breathed. They were safe...for now...

"Interrogation..." She said again, trying out the word on her tongue. It didn't feel right, and she licked her lips as if to rid her mouth of it. "What are we going to do about that? What do you think they're going to do...? She crossed her arms, and leaned back again. She attempted to close her eyes, but horrible images of blood, writhing bodies, and a figure standing over it, holding blunt objects invaded her mind, and she quickly opened her eyes. She glanced at her lap, where her hands fidgeted with one another, and shook her head, once more.

"I just can't believe this, I'm-" Ariadne stopped herself. Suddenly, whatever she was going to say left her mind, as she looked up and saw Greg. Something was caught in her throat, preventing her from saying her next words, because whatever they were, they were about herself. And here stood an older boy, convicted wrongfully murdering, facing much harsher punishment then she was, and still had comforted her, and explained everything to her. Oh...

She found herself standing, and walking to him. She stood right in front of him, and spoke, firmly. "Are you alright, honestly...?" She asked, pursing her lips. She glanced down at her still fidgeting hands, and then back up again. "I'm so sorry about all this, I really am. I'm going to make it up to you." She promised, and jerked her head at the door. "I'm not going to let those Capitol jerks do anything, if I can help it." She tried to speak defiantly, bravely, but her words repeated themselves in her head, and despair was filtering through her bloodstream. A surge of hopelessness, depressed despair.

If I can help it...If I can help it...If I can help it...

She was lying even to herself.[/size]

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:|-captus-|: [hedwig] Jan 13, 2011 21:44:54 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Jan 13, 2011 21:44:54 GMT -5

wilson gregory macintosh
his actions - 2D5F96 / his words - 899FB8
his memories, his song - 535E6B

Greg was pretty confident that Ariadne was feeling a little bit better. So that was good, he confirmed. A comforted Ariadne was a slightly happy Ariadne. And a happy Ariadne is what he was aiming for. Well, as happy as one can be when they are locked in a cell with absolutely no hope for escaping. He silently watched as Ariadne took stock of their surroundings, looking away after a while. He knew there was no hope of rescue; the place was too heavily guarded, the only people who would rebel too few and the architecture of the entire building was probably unknown to everyone except for Peacekeepers.

So what was actually going to happen then? He still wasn't completely sure. Yes, he had gone over what could happen in his head numerous times: the torture, the feeling of pain all over his body. The possibility of his life ending with a bullet through his brain, or the possibility of his life ending with the snip of a tongue. He wouldn't even be considered to be alive if he were to be avoxed. Spending all day waiting on someone head and foot, or laboring every single minute in disgusting sewer systems; doing all of the Capitolites' dirty work for them while they sit there and become large from eating too many sweets.

The mere thought of living a life of servitude made Greg sick to his stomach. He couldn't fathom how he'd survive it; being stripped of a basic right that all humans have. Speech was necessary for Greg. He was a charismatic person, one that could easily sway others with his use of language. Now, that was probably going to be taken away from him, and now where the hell would he be now? He felt lost. His voice was precious to him, and now he'd never be able to use it again. It was like a broken present. You can try to fix it, but sometimes things just have to stay broken; there's no getting around it.

Clearly, there was no getting around this either. Soon, he'd be brought to the room, and he would be tortured to his wit's end. Fear began to creep into the boy's mind, entrapping it in an endless maze of "what ifs" and nightmarish situations. He sat on his bed, simply staring outside the cell, at no point in particular. Oh, if only he and Ariadne could just get out of here, wouldn't that solve everything? But alas, the only way of getting out of the Detention Center would be to willingly submit to the Peacekeeper's demands, and he was not in the mood to do such a thing.

However, the-

"Interrogation..."

Speak of the devil. Greg glanced up at Ariadne, an eyebrow raised. What was she going on about now? Did she somehow figure out a way to use the interrogation to help both of them be freed? She was always really good at the planning and such... No. Ariadne was just as lost as Greg himself, for she began to actually wonder what they were going to do to them. A tad bit crestfallen, Greg's gaze went to his lap, staring at his hands, which were gripping the bedsheets tightly. He noticed that he was shaking a tad bit, his breath coming out in short, quivering breaths.

He guessed that he just couldn't handle the stress of being tongue-less for the rest of his life.

"I just can't believe this, I'm-" Ariadne stopped then, causing Greg to tilt his head, his eyebrows furrowed. What was she going to say? Their time limit for conversations was narrowing every single second. Sooner or later, one of them would be dragged into Interrogation - perhaps even both of them, and then something extremely horrible would happen. So he simply waited for the girl to finish her statement, but instead she walked towards him.

Her words, as comforting as they would be under normal circumstances, did little to calm to boy's nerves in this case. No, he was not alright. No, she really couldn't do anything in the interrogation. In fact, doing something would probably result in more pain for either one of them, and above all, he didn't want either one of the duo to be hurt any more than they would have to be.

"Ariadne..." His voice was soft this time, barely audible over the slapping of Peacekeeper boots against the concrete floor. His gaze dropped, directed at the floor. "You can't." He tried to stay strong, he really did, but his voice cracked for a split second, revealing how distressed Greg actually was. He took a moment to breathe, his breaths loud and unsteady.

"There's nothing that anyone can do to help us."

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:|-captus-|: [hedwig] Jan 16, 2011 12:26:46 GMT -5

Post by Rosetta on Jan 16, 2011 12:26:46 GMT -5

Ariadne stared at Greg in disbelief. Nothing to do? Nothing? "No." She uttered, almost immediately, her instinctive reaction. "No, there's got to be something we can do." There has to be. Spending most of her life figuring things out herself in a forest taught her at least one thing: there's always a way. Every single time. There's always a way to get something done. In this case, it was getting out of this place without serious injury. As unlikely as it seemed, there had to be a way. Something they could do. There was two of them, one of them had to think of something.

Ariadne wracked her brain for an answer, anything, but came up blank. And that was weird. She always had an answer, she always had something in her mind, a plan. Even if the plan was completely crazy, at least she had some idea. Now, she was empty, an empty shell, a husk. She was hallow, so fragile at the moment in a way that made her furious...with herself! She shook her head, her matted tendrils of hair swinging, and narrowed her eyes. "We'll figure this out." She told him, taking a deep breath. "I don't think we can escape..." She said, aloud, trying to seem as though she knew what she was doing. As though she was running options through her head. In reality, she was merely stating what they both already knew.

"We'll just going to have to grit out teeth and take what they're going to throw at us." She said, this time speaking honestly, her mouth drawn in a thin, tight line. She knew it wasn't much, but she was not playing their games, she wasn't going to play by their rules. They wanted weakness, they wanted to see the fear. Quite the opposite of how a mother wolf might act, valuing courage among her young, and discarding those who weren't fit, the weak ones. She had observed it over her years. She couldn't show fear, although it spread through her body like wildfire every time there was a noise outside their cell. She was going to have to hide it, pretend. Play pretend. And this, she told Greg. "Pretend." She swallowed, and glanced at him. "You can do that, can't you? Don't let them see if you're scared." She knew he had the potential. He was brave enough to come with her, wasn't he? He had found her as a scrawny, dirty 15 year old in his backyard. He could’ve turned around, left her alone, but no, he invited her inside, and helped her out. Skipping over the fact of his mother’s murder, and the possibility that he would be blame (though, this was now proven to be true), the boy had agreed to come with her. He agreed to listen to her far-fetched plans, and accompany her. That made all the difference. She knew she was ten times more vulnerable as a young teenage girl, but with an older boy, nearing manhood, she was a lot safer. And for pete’s sake, he’d even helped her when she was injured!

He had proved himself considerably, and she knew she owed him for that…but the question was, how could she pay him back? She glanced around the dark cell, as if she were bidden to memorize every single detail. The cracks on the damp floor, the chips of plaster taken out of the wall, the metal shelves that merely pretended to be beds, the disgusting toilet bowl. This cell was certainly a place that was meant to scare, and worry its occupant, and it did. But, of course, the looming prospect of the interrogation, that hung over her like death, scared her even more. Play pretend, she thought, what stupid advice, you’re hopeless! She chewed on the inside of her cheek, which by now was ragged skin in her mouth. The metallic taste of blood washed over her tongue, and she wondered, briefly, how long she or Greg would have their tongue. Or their lives. The guilt was back, like a tidal wave. It threatened to drag her down into it’s clutches, drown her. She was already splashing, wildly, at the surface. She’d brought Greg into this. He was in the major trouble. She wasn’t in nearly as much trouble, when she should be the one who was facing all those charges. Not him. Guilt is a horrible thing to live with. It was like a twin, attached to one’s body, one that you can’t get rid of. It’s stuck there, taunting your every moment. She knew she’d have this guilt forever, no matter what happened.

She’d said her sorry’s. Offered to help. Tried to think of plans. There was really nothing else she could do. But, she wasn’t going to sit here and wallow, or whatever. That was weakness, and she’d already established she wasn’t going to sink that level…if she could sink any farther than she already was. Play pretend…play pretend…she took a deep breath, and spoke, slightly louder, her voice echoing off the walls, and returning back to her, shaky and childish, “We can do this. Just remember…” Her chapped lips stung under her dry tongue, as she licked them. “we’ve…got each other, we’re not alone…”

It was the best she could say. And it wasn’t much, but those were the only words in her mind, other than, you’re hopeless, you’re hopeless, you’re hopeless. And, you’re a liar. Because standing there in a dark cell, with a dark storm cloud hanging over her, guilt at her side, she couldn’t have felt more alone. [/color]

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:|-captus-|: [hedwig] Jan 17, 2011 21:26:23 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Jan 17, 2011 21:26:23 GMT -5

wilson gregory macintosh
his actions - 2D5F96 / his words - 899FB8
his memories, his song - 535E6B

Her face is what made him feel even worse. Shock, really. Disbelief. Surprise. Clearly, she didn't know what she was going to be able to do either. It all seemed pointless to the boy; to figure out what they can do. Either way, both of them would be tortured, both of them would receive punishment for what they had done. Both of them would never be the same again. Sure, perhaps Ariadne would escape relatively unscathed, but her thoughts may be clouded with doubts and fears, so different from the confident girl that had stood in front of him all those months, the pure form of strength and logic written on her features.

She would never be the same. Happiness would be replaced by fear and paranoia. Dreams would be seen as pointless, pain would be something that occurred far too often. Ariadne was the strong kind of girl, but almost nobody can emerge from the kind of torture that the two were about to face without much harm done to the psychological aspects of one's body. Maybe the girl would wake up, screaming from nightmares too vivid to be dreams, too real to be flashbacks. Possibly, she would stray away from people in general, fearing their reactions to her lifestyle. Anything to make sure that she didn't land once again, in the hands of the Peacekeepers.

In that sense, her kinds of habits would be changed as well. More cautious, the girl wouldn't dare to do things that she had easily accomplished before. Perhaps fires wouldn't be as readily made. Ventures into the districts would occur far less frequently than they had been for the past few months. She would be alone - it was almost certain that the boy would be shipped to the Capitol for even more torture. Her thoughts wouldn't be shared as freely with others, either. Like now, for instance. Ariadne was probably attempting to come up with a plan, with her rambling on about their surroundings, stating the obvious.

Efforts would be futile, the boy believed. It was blatantly obvious to him that the best thing that they could do was simply sit tight, and hope that they wouldn't be throttled too badly. Maybe if they even submitted to the Peacekeepers' orders, their punishment would be lessened due to good behavior. But alas, these thought were also, in a sense, futile. Peacekeepers were not known to be very sympathetic people. Why should they give a damn as to whether one's actions should grant them reprieve from certain kinds of torture? They were there to do their job, a very disturbing one at that, and nothing was going to stand in their way of achieving what they thought to be justice.

Ariadne must have been reaching the same page as Greg was on, for she simply stated that they'd have to take what would be thrown at them. He nodded absentmindedly, too caught up in his own thoughts to really absorb what she was saying. He wondered how painful it was to feel the slice of a blade against your skin, the lost of an appendage, or a broken bone. Greg had lived a cushy life - he'd never really been a victim to violence, save for that one episode with the vase, but that was nothing compared to what twenty four children faced every year. Death because of circumstances that were out of their control. Pay for their ancestor's sins. Hah. What a joke.

"Pretend."

A voice burst through Greg's web of thoughts, bringing him back to reality. For a moment, he was confused. Pretend? What did she mean by "pretend?" Was he supposed to act out a scene from a play or something? No, that wouldn't help. Slightly frustrated, the boy contemplated just taking a nap and tuning out of Ariadne's thoughts. Of course, he wouldn't have done that anyways - it was rather rude to do such a thing, and if there was one thing he learned from living in such an important residence, it was that having good manners was key to success. Still, though. He still didn't understand what was being asked of him until she spoke again.

"You can do that, can't you? Don't let them see if you're scared."

Ah. So that's what she wanted to do. All of a sudden, Greg felt a bit better. Of course, not acting scared wouldn't necessarily remove his punishment or anything, but it gave him a sense of hope. Simple - don't let them break you. The idea really was so simple that it would be easily missed if one were thinking in such a strategic way... The girl was very logical in that sense, being able to spot a needle in a haystack. That alone, could help the two of them get through the trauma that was ahead of them. Don't change, Ariadne, Greg thought. Her ingenious idea, so blatantly obvious that one would overlook it, would give them the advantage in this place. Keep hope nearby - don't get crushed. So simple.

“We can do this. Just remember… We’ve…got each other, we’re not alone…”

Yes. All the while, in this cell, Greg was being a selfish jerk. A person who only cared about his own welfare. Well, thoughts about Ariadne's welfare floated into his brain on occasion as well, but not nearly as often as his own doom. How could he be such... Such an ass? It was true though - we wasn't alone on this. Sure, perhaps Ariadne was in quite as much trouble as the boy, but she was still with him. She was still here, and that made him feel much better. No matter what happened to him, someone was going to be with him, and he wouldn't be alone during his duration here, in this place.

He smiled, something that he hadn't done in... In so many years, really. It was a soft one, a smile that had been withered away by hopes and dreams that were destroyed until you no longer could recognize them, and by events out of his control. But his smile was still there. Faint, but there. And that meant something. It meant that there was still this tiny bit of light left in Greg Macintosh, the kind of light that almost was never seen in this time period.

Hope.

Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] Retired Staff 6,346 POSTS Pronouns: He/Him last seen Nov 17, 2023 15:15:56 GMT -5 cozy, queer af	:\|-captus-\|: [hedwig] Feb 14, 2011 0:21:45 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] on Feb 14, 2011 0:21:45 GMT -5 Finished. [/size][/blockquote]
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