{cabin fever // dante
Jun 19, 2012 23:39:38 GMT -5
Post by aya on Jun 19, 2012 23:39:38 GMT -5
Bang your head like a gong
'Cause it's filled with all wrong
Aha ha! Aha ha!
Stark Harper —
Stark woke up fairly early in the morning to a speckling of rain on her forehead that had seeped through the warped wood of the upper deck. At first, unaware of what exactly had woken her, she stood abruptly, her hook poised and ready for battle. Seeing no imminent threat, she eased herself back down, contemplating sleep once more. Within a minute, it became apparent that sleep was futile. Her mouth felt as if it were filled with salt and sand, and despite the antivenom that was bestowed upon her the previous day, her skin still radiated a febrile heat. Without giving a single thought to the conservation of her supplies, Stark chugged the water that she'd boiled on the first day, spilling much of it down her front. She stuck her arm out of the porthole to refill the jug from the ocean before making a small fire to purify it, intending to drink the second as well.
However, as the water reached a rolling boil, Stark realized the flaw in her plan: the heated water would only increase her discomfort, and the small fire was causing sweat to bead up on her forehead from sheer proximity to the heat. "Hey, Cyclops!" She prodded the sleeping (was he sleeping?) figure of the District Two tribute with the shaft of her hook for emphasis. "Watch that fire, would you?" she ordered, not even looking at the useless lump as she addressed him. "The water's all yours."
Feeling out of it, Stark trudged across the cabin, limbs heavy with fever, the fight and audacity that usually characterized her movements all but evaporated. Her whole body seemed to hang limp, the curve of her hook scraping the boards beneath her. Listlessly, she shuffled up the stairs that lead to the deck above, toes catching on the the boards that hung over the edges of the steps. There had rarely been an occasion in Stark's life where she'd felt so drained simply from discomfort as she did now, and a small part of her berated the career girl for selecting the Hunger Games of all times to check out. She didn't even bother to argue with it; she hardly knew what she was doing. As her bare feet hit the puddle of water that had collected on the sunken top step, however, a renewed vitality surged over her, so she took one more step into the storm.
As the rain soaked through her clothes, her skin, her muscles and tendons and through her bones, the Career girl's whole wilted body seemed to righten itself, a withered stalk finally given water. For a moment, she just stood there, drinking the new life in. Refueling. Recharging from a life of nonstop snark and combat and constantly being on her guard. She grinned. It wasn't the sort of menacing smile that made its home on her face whenever Stark had a thought, whenever Stark had another tribute — another target — in sight. Instead, the feature was simultaneously less malevolent and more twisted.
With a chuckle, Stark
WIP (that I swear I'll fill in.) I can't deal with this right now Dx basically she climbs up to the crow's nest and shouts and goes to the bow of the ship and shouts and maybe she swan dives into the water idk.
""
[drinks already-boiled water, refills jug from the sea, lights a fire and boils it for Dante]
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