far away from feeling tall. [soyala gage]
Jul 6, 2011 21:56:01 GMT -5
Post by skylarversion2 on Jul 6, 2011 21:56:01 GMT -5
She hadn't done much before the break for lunch. Slung blades, tied knots, listened to freaks, judged people by their appearance, chose targets [both other Tributes and targets to shoot things with], mentally discussed strategy, and other things that all related to winning. She was not sure if there was any point, because after all, she was dead. She was not physically, though. She still had a brain and a skeleton and a heart and they all still did what they were supposed to do. But she knew that she might as well consider herself dead, because she was the second youngest tribute there and she knew there was no use in having any hope, because the youngest always seemed to die out first. The only exception came 3 years before, when Aranica Petros won the Games with ease.
But Soyala Delaire was not Aranica.
Her head pounded as she chose her food. A small portion of green peas in some type of broth with a more generous portion of chicken with a ladle of brown gravy drenching it. She loved the way it looked. It reminded her of nature. She always was one to care for animals, and she actually did appreciate the voice in her head for doing that for her, for bringing her to a more in-touch status with nature. But she seemed to have no conscious when she thought of eating an animal, especially when she wasn't the one killing and skinning and cooking it.
Her hands had actually seemed to stop shaking, but the moment was rare. Her hands had been the part of her that had seemed the most scared. Her hands would be the ones holding the knives and slashing them at the people around her. Her hands would be the things that would grip someone's throat as she guiltily drained the life out of another one. She knew that, in the Arena, she would have to do this. Especially if she ever wanted to get out. But since she knew that she was already dead, and that if she was victorious it would be as if she would be coming back to life, she knew that the only good part in her killing others is so that the person that actually did become victorious didn't have kill as many people. Hopefully the person that would become a Victor would be someone with parents and friends, not someone that murdered theirs and never made attempts at making any because of voice that she'd been stuck with.
Her feet glided across the floor, her breath coming out in slow, breathy wisps out of her two nostrils, savoring the smell of the food she was carrying. She sat ion a table, next to a duo of people that seemed to have just sat down as well. Who were they again? She was sure of the District Four boy, Seaborgium or however it was said and spelled, and Aenor, another wacky name that seemed to carry potential. They were going to go far, she could feel it. One was a career and the other volunteered. They always did well. Maybe it would've been a good idea to try to sit with them.
She took a fork and pulled apart a piece of chicken, taking a bite without realizing the heat it carried. She opened her mouth and inhaled sharply, waving her hand towards the heat as if it would cause any less pain. She forced herself to swallow it and took the next few bites with caution, blowing on them before she ate. She had realized just then that she hadn't grabbed a drink, possibly because she was distracted by the two conversing next to her. She got up and wandered over to another part of the room, where the Tributes got the drinks to go with their food. This was the first day of Training, and many had seemed confused when they first walked in. She grabbed some sort of bubbly orange drink and walked it to where her food was, taking a sip as she sat. It fizzled against her tongue and halfway burnt her throat. But it had an exotic taste to it and she quite enjoyed it.
She knew she needed a partner like the people beside her did. There'd be absolutely no chance of coming back to life if she didn't.
[ooc: Nofo and Thundy can join in whenever. :)