seven days of torture { roseh }
Jun 21, 2011 10:51:28 GMT -5
Post by chaseee on Jun 21, 2011 10:51:28 GMT -5
lyrics coming soon
It has been a few hours since we left the docking station, and I'm already beginning to feel cramps blossom in my legs and arms. I need to move. To get out of this damn thing. Glancing out of one of the small windows, I see we've left the Capitol far behind. I'm out of my comfort zone. We're surrounded by water, an ocean they called the Pacific before Panem rose.
I hear it's full of salt.
The pilots in the cockpit start talking into their microphones, giving orders to people on the ground, asking for permission to land. Everything seems to be running smoothly. When searching through windows on both sides, I can't seem to find the arena, used almost two years ago. Have the Gamemakers left it under the water? And then I see them. The middle one seems to shine, reflecting sunlight burning my eyes from all the way up here. The Cornicopia. Several people died there, I know.
The 55th Games were particularly fascinating.
We hover over the main island, and a small trapdoor opens, a metal latter unfolding, the tips brushing the grass below. Taking this as my queue to leave, I hastily shimmy over the edge, my hands and feet freezing to the rungs as the ladder continues to move downward, until I'm standing on solid ground, once again. Already several other Capitolites are organizing a tour group, rummaging around inside the golden Cornicopia, fake supplies set out for show. Though there was no one on the hovercraft I just got off but me and the help, there are many people partaking in tours and re-enactments today.
I wonder if the bloodstains remain.
The tour guide, a bouncy woman with a bright pink wig, orders us to our metal plates, and we all turn around and file over to the start, confused. When the gong sounds, it's clear to all of us what's going on: a re-enactment of the Bloodbath.
Grinning, I make my way over to the pile, plucking a foam machete out, and turning to whack the Capitolite closest to her. When it was all over, every last one of us were laughing so hard it hurt, and I was grinning from ear to ear. Turning, I gripped the arm of a Capitolite and began giggling again. "Hey, aren't you suppposed to be dea-" I cut myself off, eyes going wide. Because I wasn't talking to a fellow Capitolite, partaking in the fun of a tour. I was talking to an Avox.
lyrics coming soon