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cass
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once upon a {time} Rook Aug 6, 2012 5:05:23 GMT -5

Post by cass on Aug 6, 2012 5:05:23 GMT -5

MARINA GORAVICH.

I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing,
Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
I'm falling to pieces, yeah
I'm falling to pieces .

I could still remember the day that Hopper had pulled a smile from my lips, the triumph that had shone in his eyes had only made my smile grow, and it was the first smile that he had ever drawn from her lips. The foreign stretch of my lips had ached, but in some way it had been worth it, because for that fleeting second of happiness I had felt as if my older brother had loved me. There had not been many moments in my life where I had felt that seed of happiness grow in me, it had the chance to flower for those brief seconds, I felt it in me, it was foreign, a feeling, a sensation that I wasn’t sure I really liked. I had not had many opportunities in my life to feel that kind of joy, the way my lips stretched and the light of a dying fire in my eyes burned or the way my eyes would close half way as I smiled, or even the way my heart would beat that tiny bit faster. All these little details were little things that mattered, they felt odd like a person who tried to rid themselves of some sort of parasite, and I didn’t like to smile.

The walls that keep me standing have grown weaker and weaker; their foundations no longer seem to be as strong as they once had. Unlike the towering walls of a building or the soaring heights of towers that reach higher than the very clouds, my don’t stand with such strength and elegance, mine bend and sway, like a tree, but unlike a tree they hold no strength and threaten to crash fall and burn with every passing second, they are weak, just like me. They now crumble and fall, chips falling off her and there, a slight breeze could bring them down with no force at all. It is why I question my judgement in my use of strength, I no longer wonder why I get up in the morning or even bring myself to chew and swallow my food, that is just too much for me to do. It has been a long time since I last ate, and the pains in my stomach grow longer with each passing day and second, I stay in my bed, unable to get the energy to move, Jamarion’s words still echo in my mind, she doesn’t fucking exist. And that was when it had all changed, those words had been it, they had led to me punishing myself, not eating, drinking or moving, my faith in Kofa, my imaginary friend was shaking and I could no longer see the ghostly girl, I could no longer so who I really was.

Kofa for over thirteen years had been my strength, she had been my strength, holding up my walls from falling and letting insanity leak into my mind and take more of me away, insanity now seeped through the cracks, and tore into my skin and I wondered why I did not scream, I wondered why I did not run and try to flee it, it held me down and had begun to drown my in a way that day dreams and the world around me seemed to blend and there was no longer a distinction between the two, it was because I no longer had Kofa, the imaginary friend that was there for me. Ha. She wasn’t here. It was why I was not certain that I walked down the hallway, was this a dream? Was the very round beneath my feet solid? Or could it be a writhing pile of snakes? As I walked down the old dusty hallways that I was truly walking, it seemed impossible that my skinny thin limbs could hold me, so I put this down to a dream. My steps were light not even moving the dust on the ground, the caret beneath my feet was soft and dirty.

Like everything in the house nothing was clean, Hopper was preoccupied with Klaus, the boy that had apparently won the games. I didn’t believe it. Klaus couldn’t win, he was Klaus. Klaus was a nothing, he wasn’t strong, he was smart, but he didn’t have the strength to kill. I couldn’t believe that he would kill someone, to me Klaus was dead and if he had one it meant that this world was truly a dream and everything in it.As always the television was on, replaying the story that I refused to believe, my pyjamas clung to my skinny body as I made my way to the door of this unreal world. They were stripy and stained with dirt and filth, just like everything in this god forsaken house, where they all think Klaus will be coming home. But I know better, Klaus is dead, Klaus did not live, and he could not live. It was Klaus. Those monsters, those Capitolites had made him into some mutt that they called Klaus. It was disgusting, sick and horrible, it wasn’t my Klaus.

Reaching out with a pale hand I grab the knob, my hands shook slightly as I swung it open. Tentatively I stepped out into the morning light; cringing against the sun I take a step back as if it had burned me with its very touch. My feet seem to glide over the ground as I move onto the middle of the road that ringed around our house, I stop in the centre, lifeless eyes gazing out across the empty streets, my home and the world that I lived in was all a dream, my life was a fantasy and death would be the only end to it, but I had still not yet been able to bring myself to kill me, hang myself, cut me or burn myself on a stick. I did not have the will to end my own life. Instead I grab my hair with my hands a let out a scream tugging at it for every to hear. “KLAUS YOU MONSTER. WHY ARE THEY DOING THIS TO ME?” Tears run down my cheeks my screams echo in the empty streets, like a ghosts call in a haunted town, there was no one there that I could see. ”Why is this happening to me?” I whisper. I sank to the ground, tears flowing from my cheeks, I had lost so much, I didn’t know when it would ever end.

Where was my happy ending?

They say bad things happen for a reason
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
'Coz she's moved on while I'm still grieving
And when a heart breaks
no it don't break even, even no.

Last Edit: Aug 6, 2012 5:06:21 GMT -5 by cass

rook
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who needs another thing to be sad about?

once upon a {time} Rook Aug 6, 2012 16:50:35 GMT -5

Post by rook on Aug 6, 2012 16:50:35 GMT -5

Reave McFallon

[/size]

_{it's empty in the valley of your heart
the sun it rises slowly as you walk
away from all the fears
and all the faults you left behind

The grinding in my head never stops. The dull throb of gears turning, crunching and compacting revolves around my mind throughout every minute of my existence. Hours and hours of training, banishing myself to the sub-basement of my father's workshop in order to become what I am. It is there that I punish myself, push myself to the very limits of what I can take. There I feel alive, there I have meaning. Down there, in the dark and in the cold is where I am the Career... The physical wall.

Infinite repetitions of weights, again and again the lactic acid builds in my muscles, breaking down the tissue to build it up twice as strong. Pain is all I have known, it's all I will know... So is it pain? Hours a day I punish my body in sight of perfection. Perfection is not good enough, for the moment I am happy with my body, I lose the battle. Hence my days consist of grueling schedules of weights and exercises, weaponry training and tactical thinking. Again and again my mind and body are on edge, pushed until they cannot take it anymore. Then, and only then does the pain stop. When I cannot continue, my day comes to end. I retire to eat, to converse and to sleep. In my bed, I feel so pure. The pain has stopped, the focus has stopped. Yet the gears...

The grinding of gears never stops.

Transfixed in my mind is the turning of machinery that I work by every day. The basement of my father's enterprise, the very gears that fuel our company... The foundations are in motion beside my own. For five years I have trained, every day for five years have I listened to the constant 'Crrrrrrrrr' of cogs, the sound of pain. I hear it when I am there, I hear it when I am not there. It is a constant reminder that pain never leaves me. Even when I am not training, I know that pain will come once more, I will know that pain never left.

The dust settles outside in mid-morning dapples of light. It seems that dirt is everywhere, staining the walls of buildings in dry mud. I see flecks of it scatter inside the basement, floating in the air around me, dancing almost. My meaty hands wave them away as I walk barefooted on the oaken floorboards. My cotton pants sag off my waist, too big for me, drooping over my feet. I don't care for this, they're far too comfortable and ideal for training for me to throw away. I yawn, stretching my gorilla-sized arms wide in exhaustion, my chest ripples through my sleeveless vest. I am rather under-dressed to go outside, but what the heck. I need some air.

It's around this time of day that I usually take a break. I get bored of sitting in the wooden basement of my father's enterprise. The gears depress me, I need to get out every couple of hours, just to remind me what reality is. So, I power up the staircase to ground level, my tree-trunk legs find the exercise no problem. Once I reach the top, I give a friendly wave to a group of workers that I know, before heading outside.

Come out of your cave...

And I do. Barefooted.
The light is overwhelming. They talk about light being almost blinding after you are in dark conditions for so long. The basement of my father's business - My training station - Is most certainly dark. I welcome the darkness, it's an old friend of mine. It eliminates the illusion of sight, allowing you to put all of your focus on what you feel. Yet the kickback of sunlight is scary. My pupils shrink and my hands almost immediately cover my face. I rub them for a while, before I am able to see almost normally. I yawn once more, observing District Three.

It's warm. That's my first observation.
It's empty. That's the second.

Why is it empty?

I come to a conclusion pretty quickly: Klaus Goravich. The 61st Hunger Games Champion. It's been under twenty four hours since he killed Fitz and took the crown for our District. I was proud, but I couldn't hang about and watch for much longer, I had training to do. The 62nd are mine. Yet people still sit at home watching replays. The post-Games highlights are usually something people avoid, yet we have a Victor, it's different. People want to watch this.

So, I stroll through our ghost town, the soles of my feet get dirty pretty quick. I soak up the rays of sun that beat down with their own unique pulse. I enjoy the moment of calm, tranquil and uninterrupted. My eyes close as I slip my hands into my pockets and lift my head upwards.

And then a cry.

"KLAUS YOU MONSTER. WHY ARE THEY DOING THIS TO ME?" Comes the desperation. Always something, but this draws me. Klaus. Why is someone crying out to Klaus, cursing him and blaming him? I'm intrigued. Usually I'd determine this as a distraction, something not worth my diversion of attention. I have training to do. The scream is one of despair, something that no human can ignore.

I am not human. I am a machine.

The grinding of gears in my head remind me of this. Constant and unchanging. My face screws up. I push away that last thought. A human in despair in a time of celebration. Someone cursing our District Hero. It is odd, it is drawing. I feel myself attracted to the scenario and without further thought I press onwards to the girl.

She is young. In her teens, like me. Because of my size, I see most people as young. It's a bad habit, one I must kill.
"Heroes don't kill other children..." I say to myself, going back on my opinion of Klaus. The cry of the girl was right, Goravich is a monster. That makes me a monster, for I am the one training to kill. No... Monsters don't train, monsters are born killers... Like Klaus, who seemed harmless until a sword was put in his hand and he was told to kill or be killed. A monster was born then. Others, like me, train their entire lives. I am already a killer, hence I am no monster. I reiterate that I am a machine.

"Someone's attention seeking..." I say loudly as I pass her, my arms folding as I avoid eye contact. The hot air has gone to my head, me being in a higher position at this moment in time. She's a wreck, whilst I am a situation that allows me to dictate my opinions. Even if they are a little brash.

the harvest left no food for you to eat
you cannibal you meat eater you see
but i have seen the same
i know the shame in your defeat

narrative
thoughts
personal speech
speech of others

theme~ 'The Cave' by Mumford and Sons.
notes~ Reave's debut, hope it was adequate.}[/blockquote]

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

cass
Retired Staff

4,822 POSTS

last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

once upon a {time} Rook Aug 6, 2012 18:48:16 GMT -5

Post by cass on Aug 6, 2012 18:48:16 GMT -5

MARINA GORAVICH.

I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing,
Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
I'm falling to pieces, yeah
I'm falling to pieces .

I could so clearly remember his final stroke, the one that had sent poor Fitz Ripley falling to the ground. That moment I knew it was true, my Klaus, the boy I loved, my brother was dead. The building of that moment had begun when Klaus he comes out with such a high training score, I didn’t doubt his knowledge, and I doubted his ability to act. Klaus was no physical wonder, he had the brains of perhaps the smartest person I knew, but he was not tough and sadly these games, the world around me they were fought by brawn not brain. That was hint number one that my Klaus was gone, dead, taken over by some Capitol mutation, it was not my Klaus anymore, and I didn’t want some sick mutation to win. Everything that boy did only further increased my beliefs, but the interview shook me, the Capitolites were good, they had given that sick monster feelings, he acted like my Klaus and for a while I thought he was.

But then the games began.

My dear brother was in a fight for his life, but the boy I loved would never have attacked and tried to kill some many, he cut and bashed, not caring for the other lives, he was like some crazed monster, he was not sweet or sensitive the boy that I knew that preferred to read or stand strong and ask the people around him was there not some different solution? He did not bite back at taunts, he preferred the company of books over people and he loved life. He loved to uncover the secrets of the world he lived in, he liked to unbury truths and find out new and creative ways of living that could help us. Klaus Goravich was not a monster, he was in all seriousness the opposite of one, that was how I saw him, that was how I wanted everyone to see my brother and I had hoped that would be how he would be, like the boy I cared for, like my brother.

But you never do get what you wish for.

My hope so locked up in my chest slowly faded, my wishes and dreams that this boy was true began to slip and when I tried to catch them and believe they just ran away, they slipped through my fingers as if they were no stronger then water, leaking away and when I tried to hold on tighter I could only do so for a short amount of time before it continued to seep through the cracks, escaping me and leaving me like everyone did in my life. But I tried, I so desperately tried to fight back, clinging to the strands of hope that wove their way through my heart, but like the water, when I tried it only made it worse and they snapped one by one, whilst I clung to them hovering above a long drop, in which if I fell I knew that it would be over, but my hope was not strong and each strand snapped and then I was falling into reality -or fantasy, I’m not sure anymore from what is what. And I had nothing left to keep me going so I let my ideas take me and I let the steal my mind and I began to believe that Klaus was not who he truly was meant to be.

I could so clearly see the poison tunning through my veins weighing me down, stopping me from doing my normal jobs and tasks, because I no longer could, my mind had been poisoned. When I dared gaze at my arms and the pale skin, I could see the withering mass of veins snaking their way up my arms, and I tried to prevent the flow of poison from reaching me, I tried to cut it off, but it kept going as if I was nothing more than a parasite, only temporarily there to stop them before they would overcome me, and drown me. I was nothing to my own body.

The street that I had once deemed empty was now so full of people, there was more than just me, another boy had suddenly appeared out of nowhere and I felt my heart grow cold like ice. It filled with a fear that I had only saved for my old beliefs that they were coming to take me away, those peacekeepers would drag me away screaming because I was crazy and this boy was big. His arms were like trunks, his legs were like massive, his hands were large and scary, and you could see the muscle under him, the power that was there. I back away a touch and fall onto my bottom as I stare at him, my dead eyes take him in slowly as he comes closer and I swallow down my fear, was he a peacekeeper? Here to take me like they had tried, strap me to that bed that they had once done? Or was he like that other man that had bashed me trying to knock the insanity out of me. All I knew was he was not the man that had poked and prodded me with needles and medicines.

"Someone's attention seeking..." He said loudly, there was no mistaking that he wanted me to hear, and I did. This guy wasn’t a peacekeeper or a bitch; he was just one of them. One of those people who taunted me and teased me like they always did, he was nothing. But then no one had dared call me and attention seeker only someone with a death wish knew to mess with me, I was crazy and everyone from school to home knew it. They all called me a mad woman, someone you should treat as deranged and insane. No one talked to me, not ever, not now. But this ignorant crap had. I slowly get to my feet and look at him as he keeps walking. I was at a loss, I didn’t know what to say. So instead I run, walk or whatever, I just move over to him and stand in front of him. ”Don’t ever call me that again. Don’t ever talk to me again.” I say. ” Didn’t you know, I’m marina Goravich, an insane bitch!” I screamed. ”If people see you talking to me you’ll have no friends, no one, everyone will leave you, because you were seen with me, I’m a curse.”

I plop myself down on the ground and drag my knees up to my chest.

And I hope for the second time that day, that I was dead.

They say bad things happen for a reason
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
'Coz she's moved on while I'm still grieving
And when a heart breaks
no it don't break even, even no.

Last Edit: Aug 27, 2012 6:22:52 GMT -5 by cass

rook
Veteran Member

2,361 POSTS

Pronouns: he/him
last seen Sept 26, 2023 15:42:53 GMT -5

who needs another thing to be sad about?

once upon a {time} Rook Aug 7, 2012 17:25:37 GMT -5

Post by rook on Aug 7, 2012 17:25:37 GMT -5

Reave McFallon

[/size]

_{it's empty in the valley of your heart
the sun it rises slowly as you walk
away from all the fears
and all the faults you left behind

My gaze turns to the girl, softly my stare examines her as she screams her identity at me. She's a Goravich, Klaus' Quintuplet no less. I know of the Quintuplets, everyone in this district does. I know not of this Marina girl, or her insanity that she claims to have. I do believe it though, she doesn't exactly look too sane.

A smile purses my lips as I approach her slumped, defeated body. She had the nerve to square up to me, I admire that. I like a girl who thinks she's invincible - Especially up to me, I'm huge. I look at myself, a titan among other boys my age. She really must be insane.

I bend down on my knees to get eye level with the girl, who seems so small and fragile in my eyes. I make sure I get eye contact with her, so I see into her mind and soul. I try to look into her, get her emotions, but her eyes are tearful and it's fuzzy. I can't read her like I'd read prey in the Games. I'm good at psychology, but only to an extent. I can't see if she's scared or unpredictable or whatever.

"Ergo, I don't have friends..." I say, as if it's common knowledge, "Friends are a distraction... An illusion..." I say, spitting into the dry dirt beside me. I've never had, nor needed friends. All I've had is a life of perfecting myself, preparing and prepping myself. That and the gears. The endless sound of the gears.

She talks of being cursed, but does she even know the definition? I've been cursed my entire life. I've been selected to train for these Games, gifted with a District where few volunteer. A life of pain, a life you are born into, not a life you choose. Where suffering is all you have to look forward to, where dying is a relief. A life that is, for me, only over when the grinding of the gears stops. When there is silence, that is when I know I have ended. Talk of curses, she knows nothing.

I remain quiet for a while, examining the girl that has a victor for a brother. Who knows? He may be my mentor in a few months time. I don't need his help, I'm already five times the tribute he'll ever be, even if he did win. It surprised me how ridiculously weak this years tributes were. I would have dominated.

Too easy

I'm itching. Like I need to feel pain to remind myself of why I exist. Being out here, feeling nothing... It makes me nothing. I crave pain, is that so wrong? I need the comfort of discomfort. Without word, I raise back to my full height, towering over the girl. I wordlessly walk away, heading back home. I've wasted enough time, even on a Goravich.

the harvest left no food for you to eat
you cannibal you meat eater you see
but i have seen the same
i know the shame in your defeat

narrative
thoughts
personal speech
speech of others

theme~ 'The Cave' by Mumford and Sons.
notes~ Sorry it's a little short :<}[/blockquote]

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

cass
Retired Staff

4,822 POSTS

last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

once upon a {time} Rook Aug 8, 2012 18:44:59 GMT -5

Post by cass on Aug 8, 2012 18:44:59 GMT -5

MARINA GORAVICH.

I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing,
Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
I'm falling to pieces, yeah
I'm falling to pieces .

I could still remember the first time someone from school talked to me, but not in the mean way that they always did, they tried to be kind to me, saying softly a friendly word, but it just bounced off me and I stared dully ahead, ignoring the girl who had tried to talk to me. I didn’t respond to her words, I stared behind her as if she wasn’t there my face expressionless. I didn’t talk to her, I still don’t know if I did the right thing, could I have had a friend? I really don’t know. But I don’t regret the choice; I still remember the way that she had stood up throwing me a sour look before storming away. That hadn’t surprised me, but what had happened the next day had. I was like a curse, to talk to me touch me or be seen near me was enough to have you bashed. If you talked to me it was basically the end of your life or so people said.

Last time someone had talked to me I had thrown a pencil at them, screaming at them to leave me be. He had just eyed me with such hate, fear and disgust. I often wonder if there is anything behind those loathsome gazes, do they believe that I am some sort of disease? Will I end their lives and kill them? I don’t know what they see in me, I have begun to stop thinking about those small things these days. In my world I am surrounded by shadows there long fingers protrude out from the darkness of my mind, reaching towards me and engulfing me into their touch. They are soft and welcoming, and I can hear their gentle calls for me in the back of my mind, but when I turn to look, there is nothing there.

My world is like none. It is filled with so much that it overflows over the sides only to be captured by me and to be stuffed back into my head. As the boy talks I listen, it was hard not to, he bends down and looks me right in the eye. I find myself locked in his gaze and I stare into his eyes. They didn’t look real. They looked fake. His words float over me, I don’t take them in, I just stare at him. Then suddenly he moves away standing up, towering over me. He was taller than a tree, thicker and stronger than anyone I had ever seen. He looked as fake as his eyes. He didn’t look like a real living person. Maybe he, like everything else was part of my imagination.

He turns and walks away without a second glance and for a moment I stare at him. This –him walking away and leaving me, was just like all the other times I had ever had contact with another human soul. For a moment I watch him walk away, the scene all too familiar in my head, my hands scramble over the ground as I search for a stone a rock or something. I had done this before, with a pencil. My hand encloses around the roughness of a stone and with all the strength I had, which wasn’t much, I throw the rock at the retreating figure. I watch it fly through the air, I watch it arc high in the sky. I just stare at the empty trail it had left, it was empty like me. I looked at the fake boy to see if it had hit him. I hoped it had. He was an idiot.

But then so was I.

ooc -- It's fine Rook <3 ~~but I am sorry about this one. I sat there for an hour with ntohing to write, before I got this Dx~~

They say bad things happen for a reason
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
'Coz she's moved on while I'm still grieving
And when a heart breaks
no it don't break even, even no.

Last Edit: Aug 8, 2012 18:48:16 GMT -5 by cass

rook
Veteran Member

2,361 POSTS

Pronouns: he/him
last seen Sept 26, 2023 15:42:53 GMT -5

who needs another thing to be sad about?

once upon a {time} Rook Aug 9, 2012 16:49:06 GMT -5

Post by rook on Aug 9, 2012 16:49:06 GMT -5

Reave McFallon

[/size]

_{it's empty in the valley of your heart
the sun it rises slowly as you walk
away from all the fears
and all the faults you left behind

I walk away, the mad girl is certainly not worth my time. I've decided that in the few seconds it has taken me to turn my back and leave her. Is anything worth my time? This hiatus between training is distracting, but I can't fill my life with nothing but miserable, beautiful pain. I need moments like this, it's just a shame this one has been somewhat wasted on bad interaction. Why couldn't I have talked to someone a little more... Sane?

Truth is, I quite like conversation. It's rare for me. Sometimes, I go weeks without saying anything. It's like I forget my own voice because I'm too busy with the gears and the pain. I talk to my Father, he's actually interested in my training, he's my coach of sorts. He pushed me into this life, decided that this is how I would live. I don't hate him for it, it's all I've known so I can only be grateful that I'm not wasting my life by sitting and doing nothing.

My sister is so perfect. I'd even go as far as to say she's too perfect. Her brains are high for someone living in a smart a District as District Three. She's always been successful, no doubt she'll take the reigns over Father's business when he becomes too old to maintain it. She could probably take over now and double our weekly income. She's better than him, she's better than me by a mile. So superior to me, she thinks me petty and small.

But she's right. I fear that I won't be Reaped, I fear I will be left with nothing. What will I have when I turn Nineteen? My size, my suffering and always the gears. It's important that I build relationships with people now, because I may just need them in the future. I may even-
'Twonk'

Something hits the back of my head. Instinctively I grind to a halt. My neck muscles twitch in anticipation. Slowly my hand raises to the point of contact. It was a dull pain, a blunt hit that didn't affect me too much. I rub the spot nonetheless. Looking down I see the pebble... No, it's a rock, it just looks like a pebble because I'm so damn big. Didn't even hurt.

I turn around, obviously it was the Goravich girl, no one else is around. I raise an eyebrow as if to mock her. Did she expect me to fall over in pain? A few pebbles is nothing. I lean down and pick up the rock in my meat-hook hands. I turn it over, examining it's bland features. It reminds me of myself. Bland, yet endured a lot. In the end it only has one purpose, to be thrown. Will I get the chance to be thrown? To collide with other forces?

I walk over to the mad girl, her face looks drained and hollow. I throw the rock underarm lightly so it lands softly next to her.
"You dropped this..." I say, winking at her, before turning away and walking steadily back home. The wink was almost a warning, daring her to try something like that again. It's not that it hurt, nor that it bothered me... It's just that I like being dominant, in charge etc.

Yet part of me wants her to throw it at me again. Part of me likes her courage, her determination... Is it bravery? Or is it madness?

In the end, what's the difference?

the harvest left no food for you to eat
you cannibal you meat eater you see
but i have seen the same
i know the shame in your defeat

narrative
thoughts
personal speech
speech of others

theme~ 'The Cave' by Mumford and Sons.
notes~ nil.}[/color][/sub][/blockquote]

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

cass
Retired Staff

4,822 POSTS

last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

once upon a {time} Rook Aug 10, 2012 2:48:56 GMT -5

Post by cass on Aug 10, 2012 2:48:56 GMT -5

MARINA GORAVICH.

I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing,
Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
I'm falling to pieces, yeah
I'm falling to pieces .

Rocks are the opposite of what I am. There rough outer look does nothing to make you see them in any other way then, hard. Even when they are as smooth as a pebble, or as small as a grain of sand you know that a rock is hard and you know that it will not break. Houses made of thoughts and dreams crumble and fall, lives built on memories don’t last very long. When you use stone, rocks or pebbles to build a house you do not have to live in fear of it crumbling and tumbling, sinking below the ground, and falling into the grasps of the shadows that plague this foul land. Then and only then, when you have a strong home, a steady path and real life you may release your hopes, dreams and memories and let them fall from you so that they can shape your life, but never let them control you, because if you do it will be the end of you.

I never did this, I never let my world be built of the strong things, my pillars and strength was never there, the person I was was weak and pathetic, they did not have strength I had only sand to keep me strong, my pillars, everything that held me up was weak, there was nothing keeping me from falling and tumbling into the ocean, where waves would crash on me and I would disappear sinking into the dark depths of the sea, where there is no light, there is nothing and you only have yourself, but in that world myself is nothing. When I was young I let fantasies dictate what I did, how I acted and the rules that I played by. I never did understand the rules of the world, preferring, instead to follow what I saw and knew and what I could make of from my head.

Right now it felt like again I was being led astray by my dreams and fantasies rather than what I really saw, my deranged mind hid all sorts of traps and right now the floor beneath my feet was shaking as I stepped on one of those very traps, consuming me. That very trap had made me act the way I had, it had made me throw that rock at a boy that had done nothing, but talked to me. Given he had been quite rude to me, but he had made no move to hurt me. Unlike most people I knew and feared he had not spoken a hair’s breadth of what some of them said to me, on the contrary he had been kind to me in a way. In return I had thrown a rock at him. I didn’t care; I just felt a little bad for being so childish and immature.

I dark shadow moves over me and I freeze, before looking up at him. He had come back. He chucks the little stone I had thrown at him on the ground beside me. I stare it him, with expressionless eyes. I don’t know why, but this boy really intrigued me, he was so unlike them all, he didn’t care about being seen near me and he hadn’t hit me or bashed me for talking to him and he hadn’t even threatened me for throwing a rock at him. He was different, he was big and bulky, tall and well-muscled, but he wasn’t mean, well at least for now he wasn’t being mean to me. I glance down at the rock it was strong and big, able to hold itself up with strength, it had the capability to go through so much, it was completely different from me.

I find my eyes travelling back to the towering boy and he does the most peculiar thing. He winks at me. I stare dumbfounded at him, my mouth opens a touch reinforcing the surprise that I felt. Then he turns around and walks off, again. I watch him go for a few steps; my hand grabs the rock once more. The glint of his eyes, the way that he looked as if he was challenging me, I could have it wrong, but I was sure, I was positive that this guy wanted me to throw the rock again. I hesitate, what if I was wrong? Oh well. That was that, I didn’t care, a ghost of a grin tugs up the corners of my lips and for a brief moment a lopsided smile plays on my features. I was going to throw that rock again. Challenge accepted.

I throw the rock at him, I then pick up another and throw it at him, another, then another and another. I then jog up behind him and runs in front of him, stopping him, well trying to, he could easily plough into me, it wasn’t that hard I was no more than a stick. Crossing my arms over my chest I looked him directly in the eyes. “What’s your name? You’re crazy and weird, but I think your nice, well your nice to me anyway.” I gushed.

They say bad things happen for a reason
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
'Coz she's moved on while I'm still grieving
And when a heart breaks
no it don't break even, even no.

Last Edit: Aug 10, 2012 2:50:51 GMT -5 by cass

rook
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once upon a {time} Rook Aug 10, 2012 17:19:25 GMT -5

Post by rook on Aug 10, 2012 17:19:25 GMT -5

Reave McFallon

[/size]

_{it's empty in the valley of your heart
the sun it rises slowly as you walk
away from all the fears
and all the faults you left behind

For the second time I try to walk away. I try to think of training again, try to get back into the mindset that I know comforts me. The normality of pain. Why do I lust for it? To be the best? That mindset. I'm always in it. Yet on these streets I can be normal, I can be free from everything. A world where I'm interested in the girl who throws rocks. She calls herself insane but she's the first contact with anyone outside my house in months. She's more sane than I.

So I dared her. I dared her to throw the rock again. I want to know more about her, I feel the urge to have a conversation and make friends. This is new, I've never felt this before. Friends are a distraction, an illusion... Isn't that what I had said a few moments ago? Or was that the propaganda that I had fed into my mind by my father. Is this his dream, not mine? No, it's my dream too... I just want more flexibility.

Did she have the courage? The necessary gut instinct, or spark of insanity needed to throw a rock at a 6'5, stacked to the neck behemoth? I hoped so, because I liked her feisty attitude, it made her stand out. Showed that I'm not invincible after all I've put myself through. The Goravich girl. I wait for her.

'Twonk'

And it comes. She throws the rock, hitting me softly on the back of th-
'Twonk'
Agh... What was-
'Twonk, Twonk'
"Hey! Quit it!!" One rock is fine, but five or six in rapid succession? I swirl around to face her, but she's not there. What? She disappeared? She can't of just vanished. Into thin air, like a mirage. I must be crazy, hallucinating of something. Was she even there in the first place? I slowly shake my head, turning back towards my house at a quick pace.
"What’s your name? You’re crazy and weird, but I think your nice, well your nice to me anyway."
"Gah!!" I have to plow my feet into the soft gravel to stop myself colliding into her. I stop inches from her, she seems unfazed by it.

I stare at her with limited patience. She really shouldn't just pop up on people like that, I could have acted rashly and attacked or something. It's a good thing I'm controlled. Still, this girl, Marina... She doesn't seem to care. Maybe she is crazy... Maybe she's just gutsy. I like that. I breathe, beginning to respond to her barrage of questions.
"Uh... I'm Reave..." I say, scratching my jets of neatly cropped hair, "-McFallon" I add, at the off chance that she's heard of my family before. Maybe my sister, she may of heard of her successes in the business world. Such a tycoon.

I can't think of how I was 'nice to her'. All I did was return her rock, which she then threw back at me. Maybe it's because I haven't been mean to her. Apart from my initial comment, of course. I take it anything that's not harsh and abusive is seen as nice to her? It'd make sense, as it sounds like she's been through a lot.
"You have good aim..." I comment, recalling that all five of the rocks that she threw hit the back of my head from an average range.
"Your power needs work..." I add in, grinning. They felt like pokes to me, but they'd probably hurt smaller people. If they were knives on the other hand...

the harvest left no food for you to eat
you cannibal you meat eater you see
but i have seen the same
i know the shame in your defeat

narrative
thoughts
personal speech
speech of others

theme~ 'The Cave' by Mumford and Sons.
notes~ no notes here, try again later.}[/blockquote]

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

cass
Retired Staff

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last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

once upon a {time} Rook Aug 10, 2012 21:30:35 GMT -5

Post by cass on Aug 10, 2012 21:30:35 GMT -5

MARINA GORAVICH.

I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing,
Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
I'm falling to pieces, yeah
I'm falling to pieces .

My eyes flicker over his body, his long thick arms, and his strong thick legs, everything about him was strong. His legs, arms, chest, neck and head they were all thick and strong. I then look down at myself and swallow back laughter, I was pathetic, small and no mare then a stick in comparison to him, but this guy wasn’t scary or even intimidating, he was weird, but not like them all. He wasn’t mean or rude to me, he hadn’t gazed at me with eyes filled with hatred, fear or loathing, his were open and free of such emptions and I felt respect for that. I had thrown a rock at him, but he hadn’t retaliated by hitting me. He hadn’t spat on my face or kicked dirt at me, on the contrary he had told me to throw it again at him.

I liked him.

That was not very easy for me to admit. The first time I had said anything to another person about friendship, when I was only six years old that person had turned around and laughed at me before trying to bash me up. I had offered my toys to play a game, but instead he had pushed me down taken my toys and ran. I never saw them again. After that I stopped looking for a friend and let Kofa, my imaginary friend take over, she became more real than any other person, she became the friend that I had never had, she became real. I saw her every day; she helped me spoke to me and told me secrets that I only knew. It was like she was part of me, but she wasn’t because she was my friend, a real person.

I find myself staring at him with surprise as he tells me his name, I hadn’t expected it. But then I hadn’t expected a lot of anything that had happened today, from him talking to me to him again talking to me, today was turning into a day that was very strange, even to my levels. Strange was something hard to reach with me as everything in my life was surrounded by my fantasies and the extent to what my imagination could control so nothing was out of the ordinary until now. Until I became uncomfortable with the socialness of this day. I didn’t talk to people, they didn’t talk to me, but right now I found myself in a conversation with this guy and I liked it.

Reave in my eyes was different, maybe he was like me alone and incompetent, or so everyone said, maybe he was crazy and insane and at the edge of being thrown into a jail cell because everyone was scared of you, although I doubted that I really liked him, I respected the way he had not been rude to me, but I also didn’t trust him. I knew better, people were always like that they talked to me and then the next second they would try to hurt me or get me to stop being me or try to jab me with needles and medicines or grab me and shove me in a car to be tested or be taken home because I was a pyshco and shouldn’t be out on the streets. I don’t know why, but something inside me told me that one day someone will just get out of a car and kill me.

Reave continues to talk about my throwing and once again I give him a lopsided smile as he tells me I have good aim, just no power. I knew I had nothing behind my throws. I was weak and had no energy to give to throwing a rock. Throwing a rock was going to stop the mental battle of insanity and dainty in my head, physical strength wasn’t something I needed, I needed my mental strength, but I didn’t have any of that as well. It was why I was going insane.

”Why don’t you teach me then?” I whisper.

They say bad things happen for a reason
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
'Coz she's moved on while I'm still grieving
And when a heart breaks
no it don't break even, even no.

rook
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Pronouns: he/him
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once upon a {time} Rook Aug 12, 2012 12:03:05 GMT -5

Post by rook on Aug 12, 2012 12:03:05 GMT -5

Reave McFallon

[/size]

_{it's empty in the valley of your heart
the sun it rises slowly as you walk
away from all the fears
and all the faults you left behind

She assesses me. I feel the burn of her gaze as her flickering eyes scan my body, judging my appearance. What does she think? Does she see me for the monster I am? The titan among boys, who takes pride in having Goliath features? Does she see past all of that? Into my mind, where I am just as ugly. A place where the gears of pain grind and grind and grind... I doubt very much that she can see that. Only I know the pain I've been through. I just hope she can see past my dominant figure.

She looks surprised as I tell her my name. Huh. Maybe she recognizes it from somewhere. If she does, it's likely because of my oh so perfect sister. The idea repulses me as I fight back the urge to scrunch my nose up. I hate my sister, always looking down at me like I'm inferior.
I could crush her
Now that's an idea that brings a smile to my face.

The air is humid. Orbs of sweat start to trickle down the back of my neck. It's a warm day for this time of year, thus I suspect thunder and lightning will follow in the evening when the air cools. I can feel the static in the air right now. The lack of wind annoys me, I'm desperate for a refreshing cool breeze to float by and give me that tingling sensation of relief. It doesn't come. I bite my bottom lip, realizing that training in this heat is going to be torture. Pure pain.

It seems even Careers procrastinate

A one sided smile twitches on the side of Marina's face, making her look sarcastic and dangerous. Once again I feel interested in this self-proclaimed mad girl. I don't see it, she's the most sane person I've met in months... Am I mad too, and just can't see past what is normal to me?

"Why don't you teach me then?" She teases, assuming that I'm the master of all things violence-related. It makes me laugh out loud for some reason, my hands finding their way to my hips. I stand like a proud instructed, chest beefed up as I look down at the girl. She's expecting a lesson, I feel bad that I'm going to disappoint her.

"Hah! You can't teach power..." I say, leaning in a little closer and lowering my voice, "Power is something you earn..." I hush, like it's a secret that no one is to know. I'm right, of course. Power comes from strength and speed. Both of which can be developed through the size of muscle. My arms are developed more than most my age, my power is unchallenged. I lean down and pick up a pebble of my own with my sausage fingers.

I weigh the rock in my hand, glancing upwards. I tilt back and throw my mass forwards, launching the rock into orbit. It arcs in the air before dropping some distance down the road. I stand, triumphant.
"See?" I smile, folding my arms over my chest. I've proven my point: I've got strength. I can't help but feel that I'm showing off.
Because I am.

the harvest left no food for you to eat
you cannibal you meat eater you see
but i have seen the same
i know the shame in your defeat

narrative
thoughts
personal speech
speech of others

theme~ 'The Cave' by Mumford and Sons.
notes~ herp}[/blockquote]

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

cass
Retired Staff

4,822 POSTS

last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

once upon a {time} Rook Aug 13, 2012 3:21:16 GMT -5

Post by cass on Aug 13, 2012 3:21:16 GMT -5

MARINA GORAVICH.

I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing,
Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
I'm falling to pieces, yeah
I'm falling to pieces .

I knew why I had asked the tall boy, Reave to help me. I had every wish and want to become stronger, but that wasn’t why. Reave had drawn a smile from lips that seemed permanently downwards turned, he had managed to make me smile and even laugh, something, I to be honest thought I would never do again. It wasn’t because I couldn’t it was because I didn’t want to. To smile, laugh or have fun was like a sin, it was like letting hope fall into your lap, it was like letting something good happening. There was no point to having good in this world; it was always destroyed, torn from you and it left you with heart ache and nothing, but tears to shed and the seas to be filled with your salty drops. No, no one, nothing, not even my family was worth a smile. I couldn’t I wouldn’t for the fear of it being torn from me.

And now I had let myself be happy, I had forgotten for a moment why I was depressed and sad. The tall muscular boy in front of me had made me forget, he had made me smile in a time and world where I dare not do such a thing. I avert my gaze from his, for the first time my eyes travel away from him and back to the floor. I rarely had the strength, ability or power to hold ones gaze, most people would glare at me with eyes that blazed with such a fire of disgust and hate that I was left screaming in my mind to run from those deadly flames, before they caught me and killed me maimed me and sent me to the hospital, or worse a grave. But when I had thrown up some courage and looked into this boy’s eyes I had also felt him searching for mind, wanting to meet mine just as I had his.

I had found no fire of hate, disgust or loathing; instead I had seen a hidden curiosity and a boy who in some deranged way was just as insane as I was. Then of course I ruined the moment by turning sad eyes away from his, even though my mind, my heart and my soul begged for me to look again, I could not, for my body would not let me. The ground was not very good; it was not fun to look at so instead I turn my eyes to his bare feet. His feet were, like everything else about him gigantic. Reave Mcfallon was just massive.

Then he laughs, it was if what I had just spoken finally hit him, the words sinking into his head, he looks down at me and laughs. My eyes flash with fury as I look up at him. But my first thought fades and the flash of rage slowly dies as I see that he meant no harm. He wasn’t teasing me, he wasn’t laughing because of who I am, he was just laughing because he found the idea funny, and again I was aware of how different he was from everyone else in this miserable district. I believed that he was just as insane as I was. I would dare never to speak my mind and exactly what I thought, I had learned a long time ago that secrets were meant to be hidden, lies should always be used to defend yourself and telling the truth, being honest –telling this boy I thought he was as crazy as I- would always end with disaster.

My eyes widen as he bends down to pick up a rock, the very rock that I had used to throw at him, he brings his arm back and I watch his muscles ripple as his arm flings forward in one powerful movement, his hand releases the rock and it is sent flying. It flies throw the air at a great speed before reaching its peak and beginning its descent. It crashes to the ground. My eyes follow its travel and I watch it skid to a stop, a long, great distance from where I and Reave were now. I stare at the rock a moment longer. My eyes flicker over to his face, the triumph playing oh so very clearly across his features, when I look back the rock seemed to have blended in with the others, I couldn’t see it.

I cross my arms over my chest and turn to the proud boy. A ghost of a smirk flickers onto my face as I peer up at him. “That throw was alright,” I drag out the word alright, it being laced with sarcasm. “But I have seen better than that.” I say eyeing him with a look of mock shock at his inability to throw the rock to my standards of what I believed to be good. In all honesty I had never seen anyone throw a rock further than that, but I didn’t want to tell him, something told me not to, so I swallowed my words and instead replied with sarcasm and shock it is incompetent throw. I shake my head at him and with an exasperated sigh I say, “you know I could teach you how to throw that rock better. You look like you need the practice.”

My eyes glint cheekily, I had forgotten for a while that I was insane.

They say bad things happen for a reason
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
'Coz she's moved on while I'm still grieving
And when a heart breaks
no it don't break even, even no.

Last Edit: Aug 13, 2012 3:24:09 GMT -5 by cass

rook
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once upon a {time} Rook Aug 14, 2012 17:31:18 GMT -5

Post by rook on Aug 14, 2012 17:31:18 GMT -5

Reave McFallon

[/size]

_{it's empty in the valley of your heart
the sun it rises slowly as you walk
away from all the fears
and all the faults you left behind

"That throw was alright,"
My eyes widen in a mixture of surprise and outrage. Alright? Just alright? It was a great throw! How can she say it was alright when I threw it twenty times the distance that she did?! Oh. She was teasing me. I'm bad at this whole stress-on-words thing. Why is she teasing me? I assume it's to get at me. She has no physical or mental advantage over me. All she can do is try to get one over on my through messing with me. What's the word?

Flirting

What? No... Don't be stupid. She's not flirting with me. Why would someone who claims themselves insane flirt with a dominant guy like me?
"But I have seen better than that." She says, slowly. Almost mocking me, playing down to me as if I'm stupid or something. I'm not the most intelligent, but I know now that this is definitely flirting. I scrunch my face up.
"You know I could teach you how to throw that rock better. You look like you need the practice." She adds, teasing me further. I relax and nod my head slowly, as if I understand what she's playing at.

I don't need practice. I could throw a rock further if I tried. She's just trying to act all superior. She wants to be in control, of the conversation and of me. I'm used to being in control, so her 'teaching' me is a little outside my comfort zone. She has nothing to teach me, for I know how to throw anything perfectly. Rocks, knives, spears... Whatever. My father has taught me the art of the 45 degree angle. Height vs Aerodynamics.

He's taught me a lot. Combat, tactics, how to build muscle. He's built me into a killing machine. Yet there are some things that can't be taught. I'm a little slow on the tactical side because I'm just not a planner - I'm a doer. On the other hand, I was born with this instinct. This aggression. I'm not going to go into the Nature vs Nurture argument, but however it came to be, I've just got that ability to kill.

No doubt that when the time comes, I actually will kill someone. Being a Career means that I haven't killed anyone, because that'd be just plain illegal. Plus it'd be against my morals. Yes, I have morals. Whilst killing innocent people is wrong, killing in the Games is sport. It's fun. It's about competition and the Survival of the Fittest.

"Oh really?" I say, folding my arms and raising an eyebrow, "I didn't realize my technique was off..." I pout, trying to play a game with her now. I can flirt too, y'know. I've not had experience, but I've seen how it's done. I've seen my sister flirt with guys... I just hope I'm not coming off a little feminine. My social skills are somewhat limited, I've had few occasions where I can converse with people my age. I get dragged along to business parties, but only as Father's prize. His trophy son.

This is my son, Reave. He's training for the Games. He'd kill at the snap of my fingers...

I tense at the thought. All I am is his machine. The fury spreads and suddenly I am angry at everything.
"No. My technique is perfect!!" I say, slightly louder. I lean down and pick up another rock, arcing and throwing it with all my might. It lands more or less in the same spot as the previous throw. As if to emphasize my point I throw a third rock, this one goes slightly further.
"See?" I smile at her, but my face is red and slightly sweaty. I need the reassurance. Confirmation that everything about my physicality is perfect.

the harvest left no food for you to eat
you cannibal you meat eater you see
but i have seen the same
i know the shame in your defeat

narrative
thoughts
personal speech
speech of others

theme~ 'The Cave' by Mumford and Sons.
notes~ derp}[/blockquote]

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

cass
Retired Staff

4,822 POSTS

last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

once upon a {time} Rook Aug 16, 2012 4:15:10 GMT -5

Post by cass on Aug 16, 2012 4:15:10 GMT -5

MARINA GORAVICH.

I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing,
Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
I'm falling to pieces, yeah
I'm falling to pieces .

Let it be known that I do not know how to flirt ~~but that does not mean I do not flirt, I just don't know if I am~~; I have never attempted such a move on another human being. There has never been anyone who has captured my attention or made me want to act in such a ridiculous way that I would want to do something silly or regrettable just to see if they liked me in return or to know that they wanted my attention as I did there’s. I did not know how to do it; it was that simple I had never done something like that before. Before know I had only ever talked to my brothers as a source of boy talk, I had never spoken to a boy apart from the one time I had asked for a boy to play with me, but that had been when I was only seven, so I was sure that didn’t count. I was not sure I understood the concept of flirting, did you do something ridiculous to make them talk to you? Did you true to me sexy and sleazy to get into their pants? Or was it simply talking to a guy?

I give Reave a curious look, I had drawn the conclusion that I liked him and I would like to be friends with him, but I was still weary and guarded, I had never, not for a very long time talked to a boy at the length I had spoken to him. I had never asked a boy his name, or told him he couldn’t throw. I had never offered help just to be cheeky, or what some people called flirting. For a while I was forgetting who I really was and the fact that insanity was clawing at my mind and that if I was to just look at my own arms I would see the poison and I would begin to scream, for a moment I stopped looking at all that and I let the boy in front of me forget. I hadn’t thought about the liquid that was in me, my imaginary friend or the fact that if I was insane, I had begun to smile and actually tease a boy that I knew was five times my height, size and weight, he could so easily crush me and kill me with ease.

I wasn’t scared. I felt the most comfortable and relaxed I had felt for a very long time. I wondered what my family would say when I returned and told them I had talked to someone and he had talked to me. Would Jamarion sneer and scowl, screaming and yelling at me to forget my imaginary friends? Would he believe that I had created another friend just to spite him? Or would he actually believe that I had meet someone. Would Hopper believe me? Or would he treat me as usual like damaged goods, as if I was about to break into a million pieces and I could hear nothing, as if he had to protect me from the truth and the fact that I was crazy? I didn’t think he would believe me, none of them would… They would all think I was lying or making up the fact that I had met a person who had actually talked to me.

For a second my smile falters and I avert my gaze from the big boy in front of me. I had stumbled over my mind, once again it had captured me and ruined all my thoughts of joy. It always did that, it always tore my happiness from me. You could never be happy without pain, I could never be happy. Reave catches my attention once more and I look at him distracted, my mind elsewhere. "I didn't realize my technique was off..." He said, his lower lips sticks out and for a moment I have to hold back a giggle, he looked really funny, kind of like a fish before it swims up to take food from the shining surface of a pond.

Suddenly he looks really angry and I take a step back, I had him wrong, I did he was going to hit me and hurt me. I stare at him fearfully, he was so much stronger and bigger than me, and he would kill me with one hit. I swallow hard, and watch in horror as he bends down and picks up a rock. Oh my god he was going to hit me with a rock like I had hit him. I don’t move, paralysed with fear. Than he bends back and throws the rock and I flinch expecting it to hit me. I hold my breath and open my eyes to see the rock flying through the air, not heading towards me, but instead away from me. I sigh in relief. I didn’t feel silly or ridiculous for what I had done, but I felt a little sad that I had expected, thought that he would have hit me, he hadn’t so far. But I could never shake off the feeling that everyone hated me and that he was one of them, just biding his time.

"See?" He continues. I take a shaky breath and give him a weak smile as he smiles at me, his face was red and sweaty and he looked really cute. “I guess that wasn’t that bad. But there is always room for improvement!”

They say bad things happen for a reason
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
'Coz she's moved on while I'm still grieving
And when a heart breaks
no it don't break even, even no.

Last Edit: Aug 16, 2012 4:16:33 GMT -5 by cass

rook
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once upon a {time} Rook Aug 18, 2012 17:48:41 GMT -5

Post by rook on Aug 18, 2012 17:48:41 GMT -5

Reave McFallon

[/size]

_{it's empty in the valley of your heart
the sun it rises slowly as you walk
away from all the fears
and all the faults you left behind

I come off a little harsh in throwing the rock and demanding to be told that I'm perfect. I guess I have states of insanity amongst my calm tempest. I'm this tour de force that can't be stopped or controlled, yet somehow the power I possess allows me to control the one thing that can't be controlled - Myself. If that makes any sense, which I doubt it does. I dictate my actions, and no one else gets a say. I'm unmovable in every way... Yet one little action that alters my confidence or control and I just lose it. A hurricane of rage is what engulfs me. I guess some of that seeped through a little when she told me my throw was off.

"I guess that wasn’t that bad. But there is always room for improvement!" She says nonchalantly. My face is blank and unamused. If this is a joke, I'm not finding it funny. If she's serious, I'm equally not amused. I grind my teeth again, my neck has an urge to flex. I have good anger management, not that I'm angry. I'm more frustrated. I don't know if Marina's pulling my strings, teasing me like the puppet I am... or if she's being deadly serious and I'm not cutting it.

I'm perfect.

From the neatly swept hair that bounces on the crown of my head, to the clean shaven surface of my face. My inflated muscles that ripple in the open air, free from the prison of sleeves. The lactic acid burns, even though I'm not working - I can just feel the muscle breaking down. I'm so used to the constant fire that it's everywhere. Inescapable. Under this perfect body is a raging inferno of excruciation, unable to break from it's angelic casing.

What do I have to do to prove to Marina that I am the model athlete? I can't exactly give her a full display of my abilities, and even then I suspect she will say I am not good enough. I'm not good at this flirting thing. She seems courageous and without hesitation, yet still after her actions has glimpses of fear, cautious of the consequences of what she does. She's so fearless and acts quickly, but then is full of resent. Is she scared of me? She acted so brashly by throwing the rocks at me and standing up to me like I was nothing but a little kid to her... Yet in moments I see something in her eyes that tells me maybe she is afraid. Maybe she is insane.

But who wouldn't be? I'm a monster... A six foot and a half monster. The ground trembles beneath my bare feet, the wind avoids my face in fear of retaliation. It's like nature itself doesn't want to come head to head with Reave McFallon. The Machine. The man who is pushed and pushed yet never breaks. The indestructible contraption, invented by a mad man with a dream of raising a Career. Born in luxury and cast into hell. I see the shimmers in the eyes of Marina Goravich and I know that they are segments of fear amongst her insanity.

Oh, and the gears. The gears that never stop grinding inside my head. They too are a symbol of my perfection... Because machines are perfect in what they do. I have been created a machine of war, forged by my father and crafted through the years. The perfect boy, faultless. Oh, but that is a mere metaphor, I am human after all, right? Wrong... Human's don't hear the never ending whirr of cogs and gears that mesh together in infinity. Humans have limits.

Where I am limitless.

Cast down into a cold, dark cell where a life of pain awaited me. The grinding gears were the only company I had in those unforgiving years. Suffering, constant suffering in preparation for sculpting me into what I am - An abomination. With all this trauma, it's no wonder I hear gears grinding.

It's no wonder I hear them scream.

I need to get back. I need the reassurance of my muscles shaking at their edge. I need to be ready for the Reaping, and I need to feel the sweet sensation of pain. I need to hear the gears.
"I need to get inside," I start. I can't work out in daylight, not outside... I need to be under cover of my old friend Darkness. I walk over to Marina and crouch down so I am eye level with her, "Take me someplace private..."

Why not go home? Why not return to my cellar, with my darkness and my gears? Do I really want her company that badly? Am I that lonely? Loneliness has never been an issue before. Maybe I just relate to this girl. I see what she's about and I respect her somewhat. Others see her as insane but I only see a reflection of my inner self... Besides, she could use an adventure too. Oh, and I need to prove I'm not weak: Throwing stones gets old.

the harvest left no food for you to eat
you cannibal you meat eater you see
but i have seen the same
i know the shame in your defeat

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personal speech
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theme~ 'The Cave' by Mumford and Sons.
notes~ .}[/color][/sub][/blockquote]

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

cass
Retired Staff

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last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

once upon a {time} Rook Aug 20, 2012 3:55:50 GMT -5

Post by cass on Aug 20, 2012 3:55:50 GMT -5

MARINA GORAVICH.

I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing,
Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
I'm falling to pieces, yeah
I'm falling to pieces .

He look liked he was in pain. I didn’t know what to think, I was always in pain and I hated when someone bent down to lend me a hand I preferred it in when they walked away ignoring me as if I didn’t exist, because maybe then I could die, maybe then the pain could reach a ten and I would go away and never be here again. I often wondered why people feared pain, death and anything bad. It was not something to fear and be frightened of. Why not welcome it as if it were your child coming home from school. The misery that follows it is not so bad if you can learn to handle it and swap between reality and the fantasies that always plague me. I was once taught (I read it in a book –The Fault In Our Stars) that the worse the pain is the more you get from it, the more it is worth. And that the more you feel the more it will add up and be worth it in the end.

There are always people suffering in this world.

I didn’t like to see others suffer and feel the pain that so often consumed my body like a raging fire that climbed through me until I lay gasping on the floor, not even being able to scream and call for help. The few moments I begun to fumble with words I would stop and snap my mouth shut, letting the pain drag on. Then as the pain fled my body, like the tide dragging itself across the shore I would wonder who would I call? Whose name would I scream instead I said nothing, letting the silence of the tormented girl that was me be the only thing heard. It dragged on forever until there was no pain. I looked at Reave, wondering if he felt the same way. Did he call for help when he was in pain or did he let it sink in him and fill his body until he was on fire, swallowing it up and hoping that the next time would bring respite and you would have become accustomed to the agony?

Maybe he had a name that he could call, a person that would come running to help him. The pain in his eyes only flashed briefly before it disappeared and I once again found myself looking him right in the eye as he bent down low to look at me, looking me right in the eye. I felt myself eye him in return, mine staying connected to his, unwavering. It was my only strength for that moment, to not look away was my only display of strength I could muster. I was weak, I had no ability to fight, I had no strength, and nothing was special about me to be honest. I wanted to show Reave that I wasn’t weak; I wanted to prove it to me. So I stare him back in the eye, I felt as though I could see behind the withering mass of muscles that made up his iris. I knew that the colour that shone in them was not real. All colour was just there, because your body had decided to keep it rather than let it be reflected like all light.

I saw my eyes reflected in his own, filled with fear, pain and they were distant, but yet focused with an intensity that could only be matched by those that were like me, simply insane.

Then he speaks, ”take me some place private.” I stare at him uncomprehending. I couldn’t quite grasp the concept of what he had just asked. No one asked Marina Goravich to take them somewhere, they all probably feared they would come back with the crazy disease and be as messed up and as raving made as me. I stare at him in surprise, I open my mouth to say something, anything really, but nothing seems to come out. Reave Mcfallon was full of surprises; he had surprised me more times than I could count happening in my life. And it was only just the morning.

”Where? What? I don’t understand…” I mumbled averting his gaze. I look down the road and then it hits me. He wanted to go somewhere I would take him somewhere, to a place that not many went anymore. To a place where I ran when bullies chased me, they didn’t dare follow. I glance back up to him and quickly snatch his hand in mine. “I know somewhere. It’s an amazing little place that no one goes, they all think it is scary and dangerous and sad, but no one has ever just stood there and listened and looked and watched everything that happens there, the graveyard.”

ooc -- I wasn't sure if you wanted her to take him somewhere I got a little confused, sorry <3 just let me know if this is wrong xD

They say bad things happen for a reason
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
'Coz she's moved on while I'm still grieving
And when a heart breaks
no it don't break even, even no.

Last Edit: Aug 20, 2012 4:00:12 GMT -5 by cass