Infinite Hymns // Day 3 [CDK]

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L△LIA
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Infinite Hymns // Day 3 [CDK] Jun 18, 2012 18:45:01 GMT -5

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Post by L△LIA on Jun 18, 2012 18:45:01 GMT -5

( P E N E L O P E C A L Y P S O L I B E R T I N E )

I was in love with the place
In my mind, in my mind
I made a lot of mistakes
In my mind
In my mind

At the end of the world, there is a castle made of sand and just enough hope left within me to think that maybe I've found somewhere I could live for a little while longer. These are the kinds of thoughts that convince my heart that it is not a futile machine beating for nothing. In this body, shielded by useless flesh and armor that feels more like playing pretend than protection, lives something that is, perhaps, unstoppable enough.

Jaw hanging slack at the kingdom that has risen up before the four of us, I wrap my arms even more tightly around Fitz and press my mouth to his ear to whisper what I could just as easily shout: "We made so many sandcastles back home, Little Boy Ripley, but I never knew they could look like this! Did you? Were you and your brothers building waterside wonders while I wasn't looking? This doesn't belong here; it's too beautiful for a world where the sun sets red without any help from the sky." I have had him in something of a stranglehold from the beginning, but today is more literal. Having convinced him — it wasn't difficult; these days it never is — to give me a piggyback ride after leaving our ~~cruelty~~ campsite in the forest, my feet haven't touched the ground all morning. I am floating and the rhythm of his footsteps is a steadier comfort than the pulsing blood in my veins could ever be.

You came to take us
All things go, all things go
To recreate us
All things grow
All things grow

As the rain falls around us, thunder crying out in quaking booms that seem to say onward, soldiers!, I press my face into Fitz's hair while holding my hands above his eyes, as if they were a pair of pale pink umbrellas keeping the water from his sight. He smells like sweat, ~~death~~, and grime, but I don't mind — I am surely no different. That he is here for me is enough and I cannot judge him when we are so absolute in our sameness: A pair of unlucky murderers. We share our sorry states with Destiny and Klaus and our likeness of minds is enough that we traverse the distance to the majestic promise of shelter looming up before us without the need for discussion. Rain may not be the only thing we are trying to escape, but, for my part, it seems to do little to cleanse my wrongs, aiming only to make the blood speckling my skin and clothing feel like new. At least there is some comfort in knowing that although we are all dreaming for escape from our personal horrors, this is a hope we share and something to strive for together.

Walking the plank that leads to the castle's entrance, Fitz finally releases me back to the ground that has always felt less than steady beneath my feet. Particularly now. Either my mumblings of objection are lost in the sounds of the storm or they are ignored in favor of being free from my weight. Although I am not much to bear, I carry a heaviness that must be at least twice that of my small body — half for the killing I've contributed to and half for the armor and weapons that facilitate it. With an unhappy determination, I take a step past Fitz and claim the lead, deciding that if I must bear this distance with my own feet, than I shall do so fearlessly and with the intent of putting myself on the line for all the souls marching out behind me. These romanticized thoughts last only as long as it takes me to cross the threshold of the entryway.

We had our mindset
I made a lot of mistakes
All things know
All things know
I made a lot of mistakes

Inside me a lunatic sings. The room is an abandoned pyre, filled with driftwood as if it were a cemetery for fallen trees, a hallowed haven for the used-to-be-beloved children of gods. Nature once loved them desperately, wailing as the sea carried them away in a scandalous series of kidnappings, returning them later as something undeniably other. You are much the same, but, regardless, pyres are meant to be burned, the lunatic reminds me with a crescendo lifting its voice above all my other thoughts. A shivering itch twists through my fingers that commands the scars of all my long lost moments of desperation to remember how they got there and I reach out impulsively, grabbing the nearest hand in hopes of distraction. I did not awake to the self-loathing monster within me this morning, so why is it haunting me now?

Pushing down the desperate need to free one of the matches from my pack and give myself over to my perpetual search for a sun that burns brightly enough to free me from the water that possesses me, I turn to find my fingers interlaced with Destiny's. Awkward seconds pass like hours, wherein I feel detached from my body, swept back out the door to drown in the water that has consumed the sky today. The ocean never feels far away on rainy days. Reigning myself back in, I pull her conspiracy-close as I attempt to transform my anxiety into untamable curiosity. "You hugged that boy!" The words come as a bigger surprise to me than they must be even for her and suddenly I'm glancing back at Fitz and Klaus before dragging her around a driftwood-corner and shamelessly prying into her secrets in an effort to avoid my own. "That wasn't like when I hug Fitz, either." My voice is the same as when I'd gossip in the pawn shop, whiling away a dull day of work with imaginary scandals and senseless rumors. "It's like when Noah would smile at me and —" Blushing at my own mention of Fitz's brother, I pull up short and point a finger at Destiny to redirect the conversation I've instigated. "Destiny Lenstil, you have a boy and I think it's seriously important that you tell me everything." And as the simplicity of a smile tugs at my lips, I realize that even though we've reached the end of the world, there's still an awful lot here.

You had to find it
I made a lot of mistakes
All things go
All things go
I made a lot of mistakes

Last Edit: Jun 18, 2012 18:47:15 GMT -5 by L△LIA

( C H A R A C T E R S )

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Infinite Hymns // Day 3 [CDK] Jun 19, 2012 1:11:31 GMT -5

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Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on Jun 19, 2012 1:11:31 GMT -5

KLAUS GORAVICH
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♕ DISTRICT THREE ♕

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For somebody so bright, you're awfully stupid.

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"'YOU SWORE YOU'D BE HERE 'TILL WE DECIDE THAT IT'S OUR TIME- "

"'-BUT IT'S NOT TIME, YOU NEVER QUIT IN ALL YOUR LIFE."

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A maze. A graveyard of trees, twisting up from the ground in palette of greys. Adorning the sand. I see no pathway through their midsts - no way out without first going deeper into the shadows. Anything could be lurking behind the wall of wood that has somehow found it's way within the castle. I wonder for a moment about the mechanical device the Gamemakers surely used to haul the load within the walls of the castle. Before my mind slips back into what it once was, I force myself to think about what is real. Not inventions and books and force and effect. The chance that terrible muttations are hiding among the wood, that other tributes are perched somewhere high in the dead branches, a bow and arrow lining up to piece my heart. This is the reality I must face, but I do not face it alone. Still I struggle with labelling these people friends, although this is what they are. They are not using me. I am no help to them - simply a boy with a training score of nine waiting to die. I am not a warrior, I possess no great skills. Yet they do not take me down. For this, I am thankful. I have always had friends, and when they faded away, I had my family. I guess I figured that in this situation I would be all alone. That's a lie. I never thought I would make it past the Bloodbath. It would be untruthful to say I have never imagined myself in the arena before - never dreamed of being part of the awful reality of the games. I have, but I never gave it much thought because every time my mind wandered to it, I dismissed it. I would die within seconds. But I haven't died, not yet. The clock is still ticking for Klaus Goravich.

I turn to see Pen addressing Destiny, her eyes shooting that look that makes my insides turn to liquid. The scrutinising, unavoidable stare that seeks information, seeks feelings. I have never really been one for reading people, but having three sisters is enough for me to know to step away now. So I do. I do not wish to venture too far into the forest of dead driftwood alone, so I glance toward Fitz. If I were him, I would feel lost without Penelope by my side. It would be impossible to bare the desperate need to protect them, yet I would bare it anyway. I look at him, really look. I try to see beyond the shadowed eyes and the dark hair - inside. There is nothing for me to see, nothing my eyes can reach. Not everyone is as open and readable as a book, as myself.

"Um, Fitz," I say carefully. My words are gentle, slow and timid, but I force myself to go on because I have a question. If there is one thing I have learned during my time here in the arena, it is fight for the answers you want. Because soon enough it will be too late to ever get them. "You love Penelope." I say this as a fact, because it is something I know. But there is more behind that love, something I don't know and cannot describe. Something I do not understand but still yearn for. "But, uh, how do you love her? Describe it to me." I make sure I am just beyond Penelope's earshot. I want adjectives, good strong words in answer to my direct question. I know this solid answer is something I could never provide when presented with the same question - not about anybody, and especially not about that boy.

"SO JUST TAKE MY HAND, AND KNOW THAT I-"

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"'-WILL NEVER LEAVE YOUR SIDE."[/center][/b][/color]

Speaking
Thinking
Expression
Body
Headings

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wimdy
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(While On a Horse) I Met a Hot Girl Who Reminded Me of a Plant

Infinite Hymns // Day 3 [CDK] Jun 19, 2012 14:47:57 GMT -5

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Post by wimdy on Jun 19, 2012 14:47:57 GMT -5

When I was little, no more than a tiny little boy with a huge dream, I built castles. I built cities worth of castles, entire countries of them. I built the world with nothing more than my little hands and a shovel and some shells. Sometimes I’d decorate them with smooth rocks washed up upon the shore. Other times I would drape them in seaweed and give the fictional inhabitants a glorious canopy of green with blue skylights glittering above them. They were tall as could be on occasion, reaching past my head in spiraling drip-drop towers. Every once and a while they were no taller than my shins could reach, flat little houses spanning the shore. The world bowed down before Noah and I, their glorious creators shining with salt and sweat and baked on sand. Nothing could bring us down. That was no so for the castles, however. We were as vicious as we were delicate. Within an instant, I was a whirl of arms and legs, kicking down the great reaching towers and flattening the solid huts and decimating the world we had created. I was a beached Kraken, woefully screeching without care and flailing until I could reach the sea and let myself be carried away by the waves.

The castle before me is unlike one I’d ever built. It’s walls tower above my sight until they disappear into the downpouring rain that bespeckles my sight. Pen’s hands help to shield my eyes from the worst of it, her arms doing the work my own would be if they weren’t busy holding her aloft upon my back. Our harpoons clank together, their lethal harmony a direct reflecting of how alike Pen and I are in this moment. We are no different from our childhood selves, playing games even when we probably shouldn’t. She’s whispering in my ear, her voice slippery like water through the noise of rain. "We made so many sandcastles back home, Little Boy Ripley, but I never knew they could look like this! Did you? Were you and your brothers building waterside wonders while I wasn't looking? This doesn't belong here; it's too beautiful for a world where the sun sets red without any help from the sky." Waterside wonders? It drives through me hard, Pen’s innocent perception of our lives. Never had we created magic beside the waters of our district. No, we’d created mayhem along the shores of our own subconscious. We’d made a dark palace of our own within our own four walls that extended out to the graveyard and back. Shadows were all we made, whether they be on the lives and deaths of others or on the pounding muscles of our own hearts.

“No, Little Girl Libertine. The Ripleys could never manage to create something as good as this. Never this good.”

Pen slips down my back until she becomes the water across my skin, the moisture clinging to my clothing. She is no different from it, ever-present on my being but elusive to my grasp. I depend on her existence and she is vital to my every move. Nothing could ever compare as she is the physical representation of our home district to me know, the sea of our shores become incarnate before our very eyes. I would turn to dust, without her. Nino always used to poke fun at hope that Pen was going to make her move on me someday. I never once believed him. Noah always had her heart, even without him know it himself. Pen looked at Noah like no one else. For me, Pen was the sister I never had and the mother I missed. She was beauty beyond comparison and love without bound. Here, she is being tested. Everything aims to hurt us, to break us from the inside out. It’s selfish, but I don’t want Pen to break. If Pen breaks, I don’t know what would happen to me. My head barely registers that my harpoon is in my hand again, sturdy and at home. Forever a District Four pier pirate, it seems.

“Um, Fitz…” My eyes flit over to Klaus beside me and I hum in recognition, his body tensed with discomfort as he and I move away from the girls. My mind wanders for a moment, daring to dream of the room on fire upon the shore, a bonfire separating the boys and girls as they whisper conspiratorially over potential lovers and the stars glinting mischievously with charm. Klaus is kind enough to wake me with his words, no matter how ironic they are. “You love Penelope. But, uh, how do you love her? Describe it to me.” Oh yes, I love her. I’ll love her always. I’ll love her even when I am hung up to dry in my own blood. But I can’t say that. No, those words are the private reflections of my settled soul, my heart come to terms with its fate. I look back at him with badly veiled agony, trying to take in his features and remember him while I can. He looks like a child standing before me, all shy curiosity and wonder, but neither of us were children anymore. After what we’d done, we couldn’t be considered children ever again. My smile must seem broken as I let my lips draw up just a little, trying to remember where I had ever gotten my strength to smile from in the past. I must have been shattered the moment I’d entered the Arena.

“Completely, Klaus. I love her completely. I don’t know how else to say it but that.”

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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

Infinite Hymns // Day 3 [CDK] Jun 19, 2012 21:50:16 GMT -5

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Post by Stare on Jun 19, 2012 21:50:16 GMT -5

There's nothin' in the world that you can do
You gotta come on up to the house
And you've been whipped by the forces that are inside you
Come on up to the house

In the middle of all my insanity and emotional whirlwinds, I have found something to cling to. Something that could keep me anchored despite the fact that the world is trying to drown me, an island in this endless stormy sea of fear and regret. Pan. Somehow, in a place where trust is all but nonexistant and terror comes in the form of a tropical paradise, Pandora Woodards has managed to make me feel normal. Like I'm just a regular teenager feeling giddy over her first kiss, eyes wandering over the scenery absentmindedly and lips curving up into a smile every time they remember the feel of being against him. It's a distraction, definitely, but who said that being distracted is a bad thing? Maybe it's good that I'm finally forgetting the endless mantra of I killed someone, I'm going to kill someone else, I'm going to die that swam through my head nonstop ever since Eternity fell for the last time. I can still remember how cold her hand was as I cradled it between my palms in a desperate attempt to awaken her from her cursed eternal sleep. I can still feel her blood on my fingers, and no matter how often I wash them it won't come off.

I give a little skip in the sand, my feet graceful as a dancer's as they glide and twist and leap to their own tune. And this is different than the mournful hushing of the foaming sea as it laps upon the shore, desperate to steal us landbornes away from our world. This is the sound of a haunting yet upbeat tune that is played upon a mandolin and accompanied by lyrics that I distantly remember my mother singing to me before I fell into my dreamland. We were children both in this kingdom by the sea, but we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabelle Lee. Not even the rain, which chills the air slightly and soaks through my clothing in hair, can drown out the sound of her voice carrying the ancient melody to me. I take a few steps ahead of the group and give a small leap, clapping my heels together just as lightning cracks open the dark sky. This was the reason long ago in this kingdom by the sea that a wind blew from a stormy cloud and took my Annabelle Lee.

It is then that through the mist of rain I see it. My kingdom by the sea. It is enough to make me slow my footsteps as I stare at the elegant sandcastle, it’s walls painted brown over the normal golden color by the rain. Thunder growls like a guard to the beautiful structure as we draw nearer, its voice deep and foreboding. The waves swell at the sound, as if answering the call that a greater force has sent, and the sea foam shoots in a thin sheet across the sand to drift over my feet before drawing back away. I abandoned my footwear a long time ago, preferring to explore the sand beneath and feel the grains rub the skin between my toes raw.

Upon entering the grand palace sculpted from the sea itself, I find myself lost in driftwood. All kinds and colors pile up into walls, forming something like a labyrinth for us to try and navigate through. I gaze at them in wonder and feel slight shock when I realize that I feel almost as if I am looking in a mirror. These bits of wood are very much like me – stolen by the sea and molded into something smooth and new. All the jagged edges have disappeared from me now, and I feel worn and thoroughly bruised as I return wet and gasping onto shore. Maybe Pan has saved me from the total despair toward which I was heading, but he could not shield me from everything. The blood still stains my hands and the guilt swims through me, greedily stealing away my sense of peace and replacing it with dread. And of course there is always the haunting fact that Pan won’t be there forever – either I or he must go at some point or another. I guess the best I can hope is that when I leave this world and enter another much less painful, he’ll be there waiting for me.

I am yanked from my thoughts – or perhaps further toward them – by Penelope when she draws me closer and with wide eyes reminds me (as if I hadn’t been thinking about it every other second already) of my warm embrace with Pandora just yesterday. Her voice pleads for details, for every single bit of information I can offer, and I am surprised to find that I am more than happy to offer it to her. “His name’s Pandora Woodards. Pan.” My gaze softens and I smile as I pull my eyes away from her to glance at the wood. “He’s my best friend. He’s really nice, Penelope. You’d like him. We met in the Training Center, and then at the party… we danced.”

I blush now, feeling absolutely ridiculous. What am I doing talking about boys here when we’re in a place of bloodshed and unjust deaths? “I feel so silly, Pen,” I say, dipping my head down in what might just be shame. “I like him a lot, but this isn’t the place for crushes and kisses. And we… we just can’t.”

I feel a sudden lump clogging my throat, and I swallow hard, my eyes landing on one of the water jugs just barely visible in her bag. “Do you… do you think I could have some of that, please?” My mood has swung so quickly with reality bearing down at me, and I struggle to hold the tears back. As if things weren’t already complicated enough in this stupid Arena. In their stupid Games. “What am I supposed to do, Penelope? He’s the only thing keeping me sane here, but I know that if I want to get out, he has to die. And I don’t want that to happen. I really, honest to goodness don’t.”

I’ll make my bed near the rising tide in her tomb by the sounding sea.

Well you're high on top of your mountain of woe
Come on up to the house
Well you know you should surrender but you can't let go
You gotta come on up to the house

((Destiny drinks Penelope's water))

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Last Edit: Jun 22, 2012 7:18:23 GMT -5 by Stare

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Infinite Hymns // Day 3 [CDK] Jun 21, 2012 22:59:33 GMT -5

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Post by L△LIA on Jun 21, 2012 22:59:33 GMT -5

( P E N E L O P E C A L Y P S O L I B E R T I N E )

So this is the end of the story
Everything we had, everything we did
Is buried in dust
And this dust is all that's left of us
But only a few ever worried

Guilt is really just a game of tug-o-war. One emotion opposes another, swinging your soul back and forth across the battleground of an inner dimension that often hurts just as much as the one that is tangible to skin and smiles and screams. Yet, for just this moment, some fragment of me is winning whatever Game I'm playing. "His name’s Pandora Woodards. Pan." Destiny's face softens into a smile and my own can't help but follow her lead, a small, but triumphant victory shared between the two of us. "He’s my best friend. He’s really nice, Penelope. You’d like him. We met in the Training Center, and then at the party… we danced." As she begins to blush, I begin to grin like a fool, baring my teeth and perhaps something of my equally foolish soul.

"I feel so silly, Pen," Then her head falls forward, the momentum of the movement tugging the corners of my lips down with it. "I like him a lot, but this isn’t the place for crushes and kisses. And we… we just can’t." An impulsive cry of rejection is strangled within my throat, small but sharp. I want to tell her there's no truth to her words, that being in this place is simply all the more reason for defiance, but my conscience chides me first. It's true enough that this isn't the place for anything. The rope of my guilt jerks my thoughts backwards into shame and my fingers tighten around hers in response, at once desperate to hold onto an escape from reality and frustrated with my inability to comfort her.

Well the signs were clear
They had no idea
You just get used to living in fear
Or give up when you can't even picture your future
We walk the plank with our eyes wide open

Silence breaks our little world apart, reminding me of reality's ever-watchful gaze. "Do you… do you think I could have some of that, please?" Suddenly she's falling apart in front of me and I fumble with the water jug strapped to my pack, pulling it free and uncapping it as I press it into her hands, vaguely wondering if I've ever done anything helpful in my life without being specifically asked to. Ursula would know how to help her, but I'm not even sure I know what help means beyond the context of my sister. My ally is fighting back tears and I'm not sure if more water will help — the cure for my own problems is so much the opposite — but all I've been able to do since I wound up in this Arena is try, so I do the same now.

"What am I supposed to do, Penelope?" I don't know, but I can't tell her that. There is only the selfish impulse to encourage her to ignore reality and to lose herself with me in a few more whispered words of frivolous honesty, even if the greater moment is an untruth in comparison to everything that lays past the boundaries of our conversation.

"He’s the only thing keeping me sane here, but I know that if I want to get out, he has to die. And I don’t want that to happen. I really, honest to goodness don’t."

WIP WIP WIP URGH I'M SO SORRY I'M JUST SO TIRED ALL THE SUDDEN. D:

Pen is totally desperate to not think about the Games or her guilt or being a murderer for just a little while longer pretty please. So she's gonna aim to prolong the girl talk a bit more. At the same time, Destiny's last words about Pan being the only thing keeping her sane is gonna feel... not good. Because she's gonna feel even less helpful to her ally and maybe even feel just a little betrayed by the sentiment until she realizes how that makes her a total hypocrite, because she's so wound up with Fitz that OF COURSE she's unhelpful. ~~Also, LOL PEN HELP KEEP SOMEONE SANE? YEAH RIGHT.~~ Then there's the part where she also realizes that if Pan lives, it means that she and Fitz die. These thoughts are unpleasant, to say the least, lol. In any case, all of this makes her want to try harder, because at least she's realizing that she sucks as a friend or even as a general presence in people's lives. She hates the implications of Destiny's words, but can't judge her for them because she's so much the same in her views and wishes.

Some people offered up answers
We made out like we heard
They were only words
They didn't add up to a change in the way we were living
And the saddest thing is all of it could have been avoided

[Penelope gives Destiny water]

But it was like to stop consuming is to stop being human
You'll want to make a change if you won't
We're all in the same boat
Staying afloat for the moment
We walk the plank with our eyes wide open