there goes a hero [cellmates unite!]

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cinder
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I dream of a reality where my dreams may come true - 23 y/o in 2020 logging in and laughing

there goes a hero [cellmates unite!] Sept 5, 2010 13:54:53 GMT -5

Post by cinder on Sept 5, 2010 13:54:53 GMT -5

So if I'm wrong again, I apologize
You can take your guest, I'll take out my eyes
It's a common thing, to be out of line
But it's getting old, by the fifteenth time

She had grown up in the forests with garlands in her long, white hair and flowers being crushed between the fingers and the palm of a fat, child's hand. There had been creatures who had bitten her, sniffed her, ran away and come to her. There had once been a bird, a little thing that fell from the skies and broke its wing. Lana had nursed it with the help of her "father." He had always been the compassionate one, she recalled. While her "mother" had been beating dough into bread and grabbing Mariah and Carter by the ears, pulling them along after another late night out, her papa had gently sung Lana and her loveliest, eldest sister to sleep.

It was only natural for the bird, which had been snatched away from its forest-home, to go back to its world after awhile. Still, Lana had seen it watching her, always on the edge of their property, straddling the world outside their household and the small plot of land Illiana had scarcely stepped a foot away from. She supposed all creatures yearned to go back to where they truly belonged. This need, this feeling had driven Illiana Annwn to leave her world and make her way toward District Two, the place of her birth, in search of answers. Unluckily, or luckily if you will, she set out in the wrong direction and found herself two brothers who directed the sixteen year old child-minded girl in the direction of the Uprisers. She had learned to heal people there, learned that everybody in the Districts needed to take part in healing the land they had lost to cruel authorities and Hunger-driven Games. Lana had lurked about the edges of District Eight though, coming home and drifting back out into the world when her whim called for a change, or her heart yearned for papa's soft touch. She was a winsome bird, a lovely little soaring thing.

It was this need, this heartsick-driven want to go home that left Illiana bound and bruised. She had recently left her small child-charge, Tally Killio, with a group of rebels with a whisper and a promise on her lips. I'll be home in twenty sunrises, Tally. Can you count them with me? Every day we'll wake up together and watch the sun, my girl. She had set out on her journey, knowing full-well she would have to push herself after the initial train ride to District Eight. She would have a month then to hike home, or nearly a month if she kept her word. The train didn't make a stop in District Eight though. Lana and a few other runaways found themselves going in an entirely new direction.

Welcome to District Twelve
Welcome to District Eleven
Welcome to District Ten
Welcome to District Nine,
Welcome to Hell, Rebels

Heads had snapped up, knives had been drawn and there had been a battle that left many of her longtime friends dead, or near it. Lana had cried, Peacekeepers had tied up her skinny hands and made lude comments about her bones. They had bruised her arms, cut her and finally when all else failed, when the begging and crying and whispering proved futile, Lana's mind allowed her to retreat into a deep fog that some would classify as Stage 2 sleep, if she had her insomniac vocabulary down.

When her drifting mind finally snapped back into a semi-state of awareness she was in line, standing with her eyes open and her chin up. A miracle. She was preserved! Death had not wormed its way under her skin. Illiana noticed that some of her friends were already gone, little did she know they were already avoxes being sent to their doom. Illiana's doom was a whole different brand of pain. Compare apples to oranges. Either way they're fruits but when it comes down to it, pain can be inflicted in so many different ways.

Just for a second Lana felt relief. The Upriser had mentioned that rebels were usually turned into avoxes, something about an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. Speak to truth, tell a mass of District people about the wrongs of the government and you get your ability to speak completely taken away from you. Seemed fair, right? Justice, even in such a crude form, had always been a favorite point of their oppressors. The Hunger Games was a form of vengeance-driven justice when you think about it.

The screams of a young girl, shrill enough for Lana to tell she was no child, but so pitiful Illiana had to presume she was no older than fourteen left the line of people stirring. Their head peacekeeper grinned maliciously. That's our screamer, convicts. She screams every time a new shipment of you come in, because her voice is so nice and pretty. She's lucky, nobody wants to mess with the screamer because then we don't get to listen to her sweet music anymore. Us Peacekeepers get bored often, its our entertainment. He told everybody this, but his eyes slid over the female population, and a couple males, suggesting their were other ways to entertain a stirred-up group of passionate, violent adults. Lana dropped her chin and let her eyes inspect the state of the floor. Dried up blood and other fluids was a better view than those shark-eyes.

She shivered as they slid over her, a Peacekeeper pushed Illiana in a direction and she shuffled into our next scene, a scummy, flithy, dirty cell with words written in blood and scratched into the walls with long, dirty finger nails. Lana wondered who had once lived here and felt the need to write Words may be used as your teeth, your claws. They are your sharpest weapons, your wits. Better to be dead with them than undead here. The Peacekeeper in charge of her whispered to Lana to pay those words no attention, that he didn't think her neck would be so delicate and pretty with a sheet tied around it. Illiana had to agree. Her face would be blue, and to tell the truth, these bunk beds had been made for shorter girls than she. Hanging usually involved feet being off the ground.

M o r b i d t h o u g h t s, o f c o u r s e.
It's a morbid situation.
" W e l c o m e t o H e l l . . . "

And that's it, my friends. Illiana Annwn, the gentle little bird-girl of the forest, ~~raised by the Fair Folk,~~ innocent as can be, frail and gentle, sat in a dark corner of the world, tears running down her face and bones aching from the ghosts of shackles. Why? Well because she was a freedom-fighter who wanted human rights for all. How wrong she was. Lana would soon find out just how helpful and good her lovely thoughts were. When the novelty of vibrant, seeping blood and the numbness faded away she would be left with pain... and more pain, and finally sweet relief. Rebellion is futile, why oh why did I try to fly away? were her last, meek thoughts before her mind drifted back into that same fog...

To spend your last hours contemplating death by hanging and wondering through a misty string of thoughts and hallucinations didn't seem very tough. Lana was halfway saddened in her dreams, walking through a forest of doubts, swimming and drowning in her shameful wrongs. The Capitol worked fast, already she felt the hopeful sheen of dreams and reality meshing together, leaving her heart and soul. Every second she spent with her knees up to her chin and her fingers wrapping around her legs, wrapping around each other, the gap between dreams and reality widened. Oh yes, she was imagining some horrifyingly psychotic things at the moment, oh yes her eyes were wide open, just unseeing, but Illiana knew for a fact that the Uprisers could never win. This was her great mission in life, her dream that she wanted to actually accomplish one day. One day she would have told her great grand children about the death of the Capitol. But things don't always work out the way you want them to and Lana was losing touch will all that she had ever been, all that she had wanted.

Oh yes, and Blue Killio, the brave Tribute, her list sister Tally? Tally would never see her face again. Sunrise, sunset, it made no difference in a dark, damp cell located in who knows where, Hellish Dimension #4. Tally would die too.

But you're just passionate, you're just passionate

ooc- I ate breakfast then came back to this post and forgot the point of it XDDD Lulu, save this thread!

Last Edit: Sept 7, 2010 21:57:05 GMT -5 by cinder

Arcadia, Illiana, Kade, Thea, Jezebel, Cassedy, Marina, Ronan, Karina

Lulu
Retired Staff

[M:2982250]

3,114 POSTS
last seen Nov 24, 2023 13:45:22 GMT -5

there goes a hero [cellmates unite!] Sept 7, 2010 20:33:03 GMT -5

Post by Lulu on Sept 7, 2010 20:33:03 GMT -5

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
...&& when it all goes to hell
will you be able to tell me you're sorry
with a straight face?
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The pictures in her head were like a television set playing over and over. The sounds whirling through her mind like a record player on repeat. Muddled, blurry images. Vague, distant sounds.

But they were there.

It was hard to remember what happened at all that day. The farthest Heidi's mind could reach to, the last clear time, was the morning...that visit to her parents' home, her own former home. Grabbing the clothes...trying to get into the safe, but her mother's abrupt appearance throwing her off...no favors. None. Taking the clothes and money in clear view of the woman whose blood ran in her veins would be like succumbing to them, taking exactly what they wanted her to have. She wouldn't give them anything they wanted.

Out the window...swinging off the black metal fire escape, jutting bits of rusty nails poking into her flesh as she clenched her hands around the bars ever-so-tightly. Frustration. Anger. Fear. Of what, exactly? No clue. Afraid of losing herself to the comfort of her old home. No, not losing herself. That had already happened. She was frightened of gaining herself back. Because coming back meant wishing, missing. Two things she would never again be able to handle.

Brick's hideout was next. Old dumpster in an alleyway, typical for such a loser of a drug dealer. Dismay, more anger, when she learned that her five dollars wouldn't be enough for what he had. More fear. Why? This time because she needed to trip at that moment, needed to as much as she needed the stale, polluted District Eight air that she breathed. She was afraid of not being able too. Of lacking the drugs that she so needed, and keeping a clear, sharp mind. She loathed it when her mind was sharp. It needed to be dull, dull and blurred. Or even better, commandeered by shrooms, overflowing with pictures and images that were her drugged brain's own creations. They weren't real. Nothing was real. Nothing could ever be real again, because if it was, the full weight of Jared's death would kill her, crush her beneath it like an expendable bug beneath a giant's feet. She couldn't deal with real. She wasn't strong enough. Not by a long shot.

i'm holding out
&& i'm holding on

Everything that happened after that was a daze...it was like she was being hypnotized, tantalizing images that were so crucial for her to remember dangling in front of her face, but when she tried to reach for them they dissolved away. It was the drink, she knew that now, should have known that then. There was a reason she would rather give herself up to drugs than alcohol; she was a ridiculous drunk. A sip of vodka made her tipsy, but half a bottle? No wonder her memory was failing her.

That girl...what had her name been again? Something that sounded like mirror. My...ror. Yes, that was it. Myror. Goddamned Myror. She was the reason Heidi was here, being led into her torture chamber in the hellhole that was Panem's detention center. Myror had invited the eighteen-year-old burnout to her house, on the way stealing a bottle of wine from the back room of a liquor store. Heidi, lacking self control as usual, had needed something stronger than that. So in she went, into that secret back door, and out she had come with a pristine bottle of vodka. And away half that bottle had gone as soon as they'd made it to Myror's house...and drunk as a skunk Heidi had become upon inhaling it.

Of course the fact was undebatable; the once-delicate teenager had had some of the worst luck anyone like her could have of late. It was obvious that someone had saw them sneak into the deliveryman entrance of a frequented District Eight liquor store; unluckiness was a disease that Heidi had been inflicted with. A contagious one, at that, because it had spread to Myror as well. That much was clearly apparent as the Peacekeeper, clothed in a foreboding uniform of pure white, busted open the door of the small apartment.

to every letter
&& every song

[/color]

But it was so hard to remember. There was a foggy sheen over every piece of the puzzle, and though Heidi worked as hard as her exhausted, trembling head could manage they just wouldn't fit together to make a clear picture. The Peacekeeper had said something. Well, not just something, the words themelves that had detained her. "You're under arrest for theft!" She'd...she'd held the half-drained bottle up to him. "Hey! Would'ya like a swig?" Aw, hell. Idiot. She'd pissed him off, drunk as she was. That was probably why he'd pulled out the gun.

And started shooting.

No, no, wait. That wasn't right. Myror had said something in between that...what was it? As she was led by the arm Heidi pressed her free hand to her temple, attempting to think. "Move it, Heidi! Go, damnit!" How was it possible that Myror had been so lucid after all that wine? Of course, it was wine, not vodka. And she definitely hadn't consumed as much as Heidi had. That was it. And that was also why her mind had been clear enough...or maybe not so clear enough...to chuck the quarter-full bottle of wine at the man in white and start running. Yes. With some satisfaction Heidi realized she remembered. Except then came the next part. The part she didn't want to remember. The part where he'd shot Myror.

If Heidi had run with her she probably would have been shot as well. The bulled would have pierced her just like it had Myror, maybe even in the back of her head so that she'd black out completely and it would all be over. Everything. Every last thing that made her pitiful life so horribly miserable lately...but no. She'd been far too under the influence to do anything besides lay on the liquor-spattered carpet of the apartment, shards of glass from the broken bottle digging into her skin, drawing blood, and laugh. She laughed and laughed, that much she could recall. Laugh and sipped vodka. Until the Peacekeeper came back for her.

i'm all ears
&& i'm all scars

[/color][/i]
She'd pieced it together, though, finally. He'd gotten her, shot something into her arm, something through a syringe, and she'd passed out cold. Many hours had passed, she had no way of knowing how many exactly, and she'd awoken in a hovercraft, head hurting, stomach sick. Oh, and her hands were tied behind her back as well. That was another bonus. They'd let her retch for a while into a metal pail as if they'd captured intoxicated teenagers countless times before. Of course, what did she know? Maybe they had.

She had felt them come in for a landing after she'd been sitting on the cold floor of the craft for about an hour longer, head in her knees as her hands were not free for her use. They'd un-cuffed her, thankfully, but a burly Peacekeeper had held on to her arm very tightly. He began to lead her, and the long walk to wherever their destination was was when she attempted to remember the previous day's events. It was, indeed, a very long walk. But she'd deduced from that walk that she was in some sort of prison, some sort of torture chamber. She could tell it was also the latter because of the frequent screams.

"Cell bee-oh-three." The Peacekeeper's voice startled her, as neither of them had spoken yet. "Get in, go on. Now." He gave Heidi a hefty shove and suddenly she found herself in a small room. A prison cell, for sure. There were only two boards for beds, a sink, and what she assumed to be a toilet. Other than that, though, there was nothing...save for the person who occupied one of the beds.

She had a gaunt face, a face that looked as if it were haunted by what was around it. Heidi had a brief flicker of unease at the thought of sharing a cell with a criminal; most likely this girl had committed more serious crimes than the stringy blonde-haired girl herself had. Of course she had, because what had Heidi done, really? Stolen...a lot of things. Big deal. And now she was being imprisoned for it?

At that moment a piercing pain shot through Heidi's head and she collapsed to the ground, screaming a silent, inward scream that was inaudible for anyone else. She clutched her head and rocked back and forth for a few moments, but as suddenly as the pain had begun it ended. Migraines--another one of the reasons she tended to steer clear of alcohol. Her hangover headaches? Yeah, they hurt like a bitch.

Vaguely aware that the girl who occupied the other half of this cell probably thought she was some kind of psycho patient, but not caring whether or not this was true, Heidi lay spread-eagled on the grime filled, slightly damp cell ground. "Eugh."[/color] The sound in her throat was one of frustration, one of desperation, one of pain for the continuous pounding in her head.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
take this to your grave
&& i'll take it to mine
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

[/color]

OOC- I didn't save it, did I? o.O le thread is still floundering around in the middle of the ocean, yes? D: [/justify][/size][/blockquote][/center]

Last Edit: Sept 7, 2010 21:39:25 GMT -5 by Lulu

{lulu's cast}

cinder
Retired Staff

[M:-3652]

1,371 POSTS
last seen Jan 15, 2020 18:46:07 GMT -5

I dream of a reality where my dreams may come true - 23 y/o in 2020 logging in and laughing

there goes a hero [cellmates unite!] Sept 8, 2010 19:17:45 GMT -5

Post by cinder on Sept 8, 2010 19:17:45 GMT -5

A wonderful, splendid event to break up the days of her monotonous life. A puppy! Lana recalled the soft fur and warm heart of her little friend, the way it tentatively grew used to her, yipping and snapping at her feet with a relish words can't describe. Those monotonous days had been those of her life, the glory years when she was a young, moon-lit girl with big green-blue eyes and ~~Children of the Corn~~ white-blonde hair. Days become hours become minutes and seconds...

About three to four somethings ago, Illiana had decided to start counting down instead of up. Her eyes were growing tired of the markings in the wall, the ones she made with a small sewing needle, scraping them over and over again in the endless task of counting somethings. Unsure was she of how many sunrises and sunsets her eyes had missed out on in X amount of time. Her mind was growing sick of those tally-marks, and one moment Lana just snapped. She started to rub her hands against the wall, rubbing them raw in an equally endless task of erasing time. This was not a count-up but a count-down, a count-down until her days of freedom were reinstated. To count up the days, to stack them up like one piece of bad news after another was a despicable, horrible way to pass her X and Y and Z long sentence.

In a few weeks
I will get time to
realise it's right
before my eyes
and I can take it
if it's what I want
to do

Eventually her raw hands had grown tired and cold, verging on the numbness that usually accompanies a job over-done. Lana drew her peachy-pink hands back to her body, cradled them to her warm heart and wondered whether the heat would spread back into her useful tools or if the cold would simply swallow her up. And so she spent awhile in this state of absolute quiet, sitting back against one wall and watching an unblemished area of the neighboring one. Her huge eyes were shaded by the darkness of the cell, her equally dark and damp outlook on life mirrored in the grey-ish, dim lights behind her eyes. Even that white-blonde hair was greasy and limp, a yellowish glint to the white-gold of her pride and joy. Terribly sad, it was even falling out in clumps to make a matter worse.

That foggy state of mind had never been broken. Lana was still confused and disoriented for most of her time spent behind the bars. She constantly wondered at the difference between the life she had been given and the life she had forced herself into. She had been given joy, luck and wicked beauty, had exchanged it all for pure and simple wickedness. Eleven crimes. Four commited. True, she was a rebel although more for the freedoms and Healing opportunities than the idea of a District-wide massacre followed by a short time period of peace, followed by a lengthy totalitarian rule (for this was the cycle of things, Lana was pretty sure no matter what her Uprisers did, it would continue to be this way) True, she had witnessed a number of crimes against the government, but only because in the end she wanted to heal the loser! In a war between ~~Capitol~~ Lovers and ~~Capitol~~ Haters, there was no room for a measly Healer such as herself.

"I s h o u l d
h a v e
e x p e c t e d
t h i s"

--Her teeth gritted out anxiously. They chittered and chatter, sputtered and stalled but the words came out. A formal recognition of her crimes against the Higher Authority. A complete acceptance of her part in the trouble caused by a group of violent youngsters. She would even take more of the blame, hold the world up on her shoulders if only it would make this loving, hating war move quickly through the system of the rebels. They had to give up, if the Capitol only ignored them, it wasn't like they had enough resources to last another year, let alone another month! It was blasphemy, they would die out eventually. They would die out or they would just be murdered!

I am leaving
This is starting
to feel like it's
right before my
eyes and I can
taste it it's my
sweet beginning

Lana's hysteria reached a new height, a new level and suddenly it was brought to a crashing halt. Her silent cries, her verbal acceptance... it had earned her a prize for being such a good little criminal. Her Peacekeeper counterparts must have been pleased by her little act, her words and her unwritten, unspoken apology. They were opening the creaking door and letting in light. It stung her eyes, really, truly did but Illiana started it down, her eye-balls growing huge and drunk at the sight of something so magnificent. Oh, the wonders of florescent lighting! What a brilliant conception, whoever had thought of that, whatever District was responsible for scientific discoveries and technology needed to be thanked for this modern convenience.

She drank it up, lapped at it like a hungry dog until finally there was a figure taking form, shaping right before her veryblind

[/s] eyes. It stopped, growled something in an apparently foreign tongue before walking out into the light and leaving her utterly alone. The harsh light still filled up Illiana Annwn mind. Her senses shrieked, screamed and tried to throw their beings into the fire, wishing for the gravely sound of an unfamiliar voice and the light of another world. Why had he left? She would have taken the touch of his boot ramming into her stomach, even that. Oh why, oh why had they abandoned her?

Her moans, her pitiful crying went on for awhile, the fog never subsided and nothing registered in her already too crowded mind. Yes my friends, Illiana Annwn appeared to be on Insanity's Doorstep. Her mind was a few fragile steps away from complete craziness. Such a shame. Lana buried her face in her cold hands, let the ice touch her wet, angry, shameful face and infect her with its desolate disease. Better to die an ice queen, better to let death come quickly than to fight and struggle against it. Her warm heart could stop beating for all she cared. Really. It could.

And I can tell just what you want
You don't want to be alone
You don't want to be alone
And I can't say it's what you know
But you've known it the whole time
Yeah, you've known it the whole time

And what will happen to our tragic heroine now? Will she come to her senses, find her spirit stronger than all, but especially herself, ever thought it was. Would she let her dropped gaze scan up the scarred wall of her cell, look through it and see the meaning of life? Well yes, 'spose it's the only way to keep her sanity, and therefore, the story going. Lana turned her gaze up to the heavens to the side and something registered. Music reached her ears, the sound of angels and tinkling glass and violins meshed together in one hazardous room of glorious noise.

"Eugh."

Salvation.
Illiana Annwn had just taken notice of her brand new puppy.

Maybe next year
I'll have no time
To think about the questions to address
Am I the one to try to stop the fire?

I wouldn't test you
I'm not the best you could have attained
Why try anything?
I will get there
Just remember I know

Flounder on, lovely thread! Flounder and struggle to keep alive, but do not worry, this post is an example of temporary insanity. Aha! Lana will come back to her sense and you will flourish, little, puny thing!

[/size]
[/blockquote][/color]

Arcadia, Illiana, Kade, Thea, Jezebel, Cassedy, Marina, Ronan, Karina

Lulu
Retired Staff

[M:2982250]

3,114 POSTS
last seen Nov 24, 2023 13:45:22 GMT -5

there goes a hero [cellmates unite!] Sept 9, 2010 14:42:15 GMT -5

Post by Lulu on Sept 9, 2010 14:42:15 GMT -5

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
do you remember the way i held your hand
under the lamppost && ran home
this way so many times i could close my eyes
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

if l o v e <is> a {LIE}, then w h y .do. i keep [LOVING]?

So, solitary confinement, eh? Might as well be. This girl in front of her was practically certifiable, and wasn't much company. Well, this takes the cake. You've really done it this time. Great job. Staring up at the ceiling, in which a leak of some sort was dripping some putrid water or something of the sort, Heidi scowled at her mind. Often it spoke to her, which as she knew full well was the first sign of insanity. She would welcome insanity, though, so she wasn't normally bothered. Now though, it was mocking her.

It did not help that the voice sounded suspiciously like Jared.

An hour passed. Heidi began to hum subconsciously, a hum without a tune, a sound with no point. It is unclear what she was humming; music was a foreign concept for her. A thing that belonged in the past, the past alone. It could not cross over; she would never permit it to. I used to sing. I sang in the factory while on the job. You used to listen, too. Told me I was a tone-deaf toad, as a matter of fact. But you said it with a smile, and even though I knew I sounded horrible I kept singing. You liked to hear it. I could tell. This little observation may have meant next-to-nothing, but it scared Heidi out of her wits. She had not been thinking it. It wasn't her thought. It was Jared's.

He was thinking in her head. Speaking to her, as if he was lying right there in that cramped little cell alongside side her rather than in a crude wooden coffin in the ground miles away in District Eight's main cemetery. His voice...she could hear it in her ears, it echoed in her brain, she was clearly losing it, her composure was faltering...

Get out! Get OUT! Frantically the eighteen-year-old clawed at her face, as if Jared's voice was a tangible thing that could be removed from her spinning, frantic mind. Come out! Go away! Leave me alone! I can't deal with this, I can't, I can't..." The tears began to flow, the first tears she'd cried in an incredibly long time. She tasted them on her lips; they were salty, mixed with the slightest tang of...iron? She pulled her hands away from her face and saw that they were covered in red; her filthy nails had been so long and jagged that they'd left long scratch marks where they'd raked across her soft features, and the warm crimson blood that now flowed down her face intermingled with the newfound tears. Heidi stared at her hands in disbelief; not at the blood, but at the other moisture. She was crying.

you're a canary i'm a coal mine
cause sorrow is just all the rage
take one for the team you all know what i mean

Clearly it was true, what they said about people going insane in prison. From the second she'd awoken from her delirious, drugged sleep in the hovercraft, her mind then clear enough to comprehend that she had been captured, she'd been expecting it to happen. Although perhaps not so soon. She'd only been in this tiny little hell-on-earth for...what, an hour? More? Less? She was unsure, and probably never would be sure about anything ever again.

Heidi Cross was obviously losing her marbles. Who could doubt it? She'd just tried to claw her face off to get rid of a voice, a completely masochistic move. And then of course, there was also the horrible issue of her hearing the voice in the first place. Upon thinking of that, though, she took a deep breath and composed herself for a minute, listening hard for something only she could hear. Where, oh where, had Jared Strahan gone?

I'm still here, hun.

No. No no no no no. He wasn't in her head. He wasn't. He'd died in the Games and the remainder of Heidi's heart had been buried with him. He'd been killed by a blind little bastard, and a heartless one at that. She'd watched that Arbor Halt kill so many others before her love, not giving their maimed bodies a second thought once he had done so. How had he done it? How had he beaten Jared, a perfectly able-bodied seventeen year old who'd spent a lifetime lifting heavy machinery? It was his fault that the one she so wanted to forget about right now was invading her thoughts.

She hated both of them. Jared and Arbor alike. She hated them so much she forgot why she even hated them. Especially Jared. She'd been on her way to regretting. And now he'd come back? Inside her head? He'd been absent in those few desperate weeks she'd been willing him to appear again, and now he showed up? When she was sitting in a cold, damp jail cell, pleading for her mind to be hers and hers alone? She had to force him out. So, doing the only thing she could think of, she screamed. Inside her own head, of course, unknown, a precious secret from the rest of the world. She yelled, wailed, growled, hissed, anything she could do to overpower his voice. If it was even still speaking. She didn't think it was. But she couldn't be sure, so she continued her desperate shrieks.

and i'm so sorry
but not really
tell the boys where to find my body

[/color][/right]The late teenager probably would never have ceased her cries if she hadn't been so worn out, but she was. And even the effort of just screaming privately while enclosed in her mind drained her. She was still on the floor. She knew there was a board that was supposed to serve as some sort of bed nailed to the wall somewhere near it, but she was far too fatigued to attempt to locate it. Why bother, anyway? Why bother with anything anymore, when Jared was speaking in her head and ruining everything. Damn it. Damn it all.

But wait...Heidi listened very closely, eyes wide, tears no longer pouring from those orbs of deepest brown. She listened until she thought she could listen no more, and listened even further after that. What she heard surprised her. Astonished her. Bewildered her.

There was silence.

Had he gone? Had she really drowned him out with her screeching? Was he just annoyed? Tired, like her? Or was he really not there, and it had all been a symptom of the killer hangover she was dealing with at that moment, the dreadful migraine that still continued to pound, though perhaps not as imposing and painfully as before? Had it simply stemmed from the shock of being captured and confined in the first place? Would she be left alone now, in the one space that was supposed to be entirely her own and no one else's? It seemed so. For the time being, at least.

She remained lying on the grimy floor for a while longer, relishing in the silence that she'd never appreciated as much until now. It was a good thing her cellmate didn't seem to be much of a talker. Heidi herself didn't like talking. Talking produced memories, and memories produced voices. Voices that she'd give anything never to hear again. No, she wouldn't be speaking. The silence was far too lovely. So, not making a sound, she exerted every bit of strength she possessed, which was not a lot by anyone's standards, to get herself into a standing position. She planned on staying that way for a while, to get used to being on her feet again, to stop the world from spinning so very much. But the delicately built girl was a weakling in many more ways than one, so she found herself unable to stay that way. So she took a deep breath and lowered herself onto the bed-board, sitting up straight with her ankles crossed. She stared at the girl sharing her cell, her tearstained face still bloody. Didn't utter a word. Just stared.[/blockquote][/justify]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
the truth hurts worse
than anything i could bring myself to do
to you

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Last Edit: Sept 9, 2010 14:47:00 GMT -5 by Lulu

{lulu's cast}

cinder
Retired Staff

[M:-3652]

1,371 POSTS
last seen Jan 15, 2020 18:46:07 GMT -5

I dream of a reality where my dreams may come true - 23 y/o in 2020 logging in and laughing

there goes a hero [cellmates unite!] Sept 10, 2010 17:56:16 GMT -5

Post by cinder on Sept 10, 2010 17:56:16 GMT -5

It was impossible for her to get the ringing sound to go away. Had Lana been to a rock concert? Had a shot, no a round of shots just been fired, leaving her partially deaf for the rest of her life? The Capitol could do that, y'know. They could take away everything near and dear to you, leave you empty like the shell of a salted snail then CRUNCH! take even more from you. Senses. Arbor the Victor had gained a sense for being such a good little killer, and Illiana the ~~Victim~~ Criminal would have her hearing taken away. Life sounds fair when you think of it like that, doesn't it? (Ha! See, Lana was still punny, bringing up sound when she was sure her hearing was gone forever. That last word, what had she heard last? Eugh. Something along those lines. Pretty, pitiful word, oh! how she missed words...)

Dizzied by stress and hurt and pain, Illiana shifted her weight, let her body slide into an equally uncomfortable position. Her powers of selective-hearing kept Illiana from piecing together the squeek of her shoes against the floor with the obvious fact that she was still able to hear things. Instead her mind marched onward, wallowing in her misery and self-hatred. It seemed impossible to focus on one thing at a time. Lana had heard a noise, seen a girl and her mind had gone black. Maybe she should check now, check to make sure the girl was real. Maybe the sound hadn't been real and the girl was fake and maybe sound in general was a huge hoax, just another Game to play with the deaf people of Panem. Illiana purposefully did not turn her head and check up on her cellmate for fear of the unknown.

Darkness can turn even one like Illiana, a light-~~haired~~hearted girl into nothing more than emptyness. Have you ~~ever fallen into a crevice in the middle of nowhere~~ woken up in the dark with no sense of who you are, where you are and whats going on? With a sudden snap Lana recalled at least a little part of this. She did turn, did look at her cellmate and her

ooc- gotta go, will finish & code later.

Last Edit: Sept 25, 2010 17:50:22 GMT -5 by cinder

Arcadia, Illiana, Kade, Thea, Jezebel, Cassedy, Marina, Ronan, Karina

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	there goes a hero [cellmates unite!] Jan 8, 2011 17:28:52 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] on Jan 8, 2011 17:28:52 GMT -5 Because this thread has died and we need to clear out the cell, this sentence is over and your characters are free to go. [/size][/blockquote]
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