Another Chance // [D10 Tribs]

new

« Prev
1
Next »

Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]
Administrator

9,638 POSTS
Pronouns: She/Her
last seen Nov 10, 2024 11:48:08 GMT -5

cameron stood in line for an hour for a stupid ride for me <3 best <3

Another Chance // [D10 Tribs] Sept 12, 2012 0:32:35 GMT -5

Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Sept 12, 2012 0:32:35 GMT -5

for what it's worth, I have a slow disease that sucked me dry... I always aim to please
but I nearly died

Mace had gotten up long before dawn the day of the Reaping. He hadn't expected to find sleep. Not before being handed two more lives. Not without Julian. It was strange not to be with the victor from Two, now that their lives had become so tangled around one another. Leaving from the upper district had been a brutal reminder of what life would be like without the boy that made it worth while.

Still, he couldn't find too much remorse about taking a break from Two. Life just moved at a different pace in Ten, one that he had learned the rhythm of long ago. He still wasn't sure how to navigate the social structure of Two, and it frustrated him even to try. But he would. For Julian. For the hope of a future that didn't constantly cause him pain. It still felt like coming home, hurtling towards Ten the day before the Reaping, settling into his victor mansion, which had been well cared for and fully occupied while he'd been gone, Reggie informed him.

It was too late by the time he stepped in the door to prepare himself to find her and her gap teeth instead of Elon and his shy smile. It was a punch to the chest, and Reggie had to drag him in from the doorway. It took him awhile to realize that she was being entirely too perky and chatty. As it turned out, she'd taken up space in his master bedroom while he'd been absent. Her clothes were in the drawers, her carvings lining the window sill.

He'd given her ten minutes to move her shit down the hall, or he would do it for her, while he scrounged up some food. He'd filled himself with an apricot-baked chicken breast and fresh corn before he'd wandered upstairs to find his room messy, but thankfully free of girly accouterments. The bed still smelled of her though, not of Julian, and that thought distracted him long into the sleepless night. He showered, and left the steam running, hoping it would clear Reggie's perfume out. The warmth was a comfort, another gift of summer as he dressed in pressed khakis and a soft plaid shirt.

The Reaping passed in a blur, which was it's own sort of gift. He blinked and it was over, two tributes being led into the Justice Building. He rose from his lonely spot on the stage and made his way around the building. No one bothered him now. He'd been victor for too long, and without Julian at his side, there was really nothing interesting at all about Mace Emberstatt.

He hopped onto the train, depositing his backpack in his room - the same as last time - and passed Olive in the cramped hallway. She practically whimpered as he flashed her one of his old grins, the sort that showed too much teeth and a promise that he'd lock her in a closet again if she got out of hand. He hoped that was enough to scare the escort off for the remainder of the train ride. He didn't need her to handle his tributes. And he did plan on handling them both. This time.

He felt the constriction in his chest, scratched at his neck as he narrowed his thoughts, pushed aside those of the previous Games. Instead he availed himself of the dining car, snacking on a date-centered trail mix before moving onto a snappy white peach. He had a knife into it, slicing off piece by piece, when the tributes finally arrived. Mace glanced up, his dead eyes finally registering them. The girl looked impossibly young, her blue eyes wide and bright. He'd underestimated his own female tribute before, so he refused to make more of her than that. For now.

The boy was teetering on the edge of manhood. Perhaps not teetering. Looming. Mace leaned back in the plush armchair, and felt a ghost of a smile tug at his lips. Had he ever looked so... eager? Had anyone from a lower district? Charas Harp, perhaps. Sadly, he did not have her legs.

"Have a seat. Dinner's on me," Mace said, silently congratulating himself at his little joke. And it was leap, not a step, for the former victor to even consider joking with his tributes. This was not the Mace of the doomed 61st, nor the gut-wrenched 60th, or the even hopeful 59th. This was a man possessed of himself, who knew while he was surely carrying at least one of these tributes to their death, he was also every moment getting closer to being reunited with Julian.

banner credit: jurate
lyrics:placebo for what it's worth

Last Edit: Sept 12, 2012 0:35:54 GMT -5 by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]

credit umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

credit ✨ zozo.

- chars -

SinInChaos
Merchant

195 POSTS
last seen Dec 29, 2012 23:10:22 GMT -5

Like a sir, bitch!

Another Chance // [D10 Tribs] Sept 12, 2012 12:44:25 GMT -5

Post by SinInChaos on Sept 12, 2012 12:44:25 GMT -5

Damion Winters

Who needs a friend
when you've got a hatchet?

The train ride isn’t quite what I expect. It’s homely, inviting, almost trying to make up for any of the pathetic people that were picked off for the games. I don’t need this fancy treatment. This is just to give less hatred toward those who want us to kill. Murder isn’t a problem though. It was the basis of life in District Ten, working with the slaughterhouse and ending the lives of innocent animals. The broken thing about this was now animals were people. Innocent people. No crimes done by their hands, only the past hasn’t washed from our hands. Touching the lives of children who hadn’t taken the time to create the right mistakes. But I want this. The thrill of the kill. The wild swing of a blade and the crack as the weapon breaks through bone. Something for my sister. She made my family look bad, but now I am here to reclaim it.

I hope the entrance toward the stage made an appearance, but it seemed that many of the districts had their own little play going on. Some family members pulled together, others having a sibling in the arena. None looked quite as prepared as me though, this was assured. Each one may have tried to smile, look confident, but none thought like I had when it came to entering the arena. It was all about getting home. Enjoying the rewards. Keeping the memory of those slayed by your own hands. I just wanted it for the kicks. The glory was this little side pot that the capitol would give away after the field was colored crimson. So, then, how to paint the world anew was the next objective.

Now on the train, I stand next to my tribute mate. A frail girl, most likely useless in the long run and definitely nowhere near as headstrong as I was. She would be easy prey for the people in the arena, just like my sister had been when she ran into the bloodbath. Across from us is the District Ten mentor, a man I heard rarely mentioned. Mace. He was this glorified ass most of the time, and even though a passed victor, my family felt no respect for him whatsoever. The man apparently did want to be here with us though, offering the luxuries of food and pleasantries. Just like the capitol Damion, he’s trying to fluff you up like a damn pig.

“Have a seat. Dinner’s on me.”

I chuckle at him and look at the plush chairs: comfortable, relaxing, inviting. The entirety of the capitol as it were for each tribute. Like a cat waiting for the mouse. We’re dogs though, not mice. This girl, even if I can’t help her become something more, she will most likely crack in the arena if she survives the first bit of blood. No one with a spec of sanity can keep cool after something so horrific unfolds before their eyes. You have to let go of the humanity that has blinded your animal inside. Will she be a mouse, or will she be a hound?

I grab the seat, pull it out from the confined trap of a table and sit for a moment, eying Mace and trying to figure out why none of my family member’s spoke high of him. I don’t really remember his game that much, but I doubt that has anything to do with it. The districts are always glad to have a victor on their hands. So what is it about mister Mace that gets all these people riled up back in District Ten?

I grab a knife and cut delicately into the chicken, giving a crooked smile. The juices flow out, reminding me of life back at the slaughterhouse. Cutting deep into the animal to watch the flavors of life stream out of their bodies. Bit by bit the fluids would ooze out of the openings we would make. Can’t have the animal covered in what was life though. You have to clean it, cut it nice and quick in spots so that the meat stays in the right amount of necessity. Bit by bit, cut by cut, I’m drawn back into the fantasy that I forget this piece of meat is already dead. I keep cutting and cutting more and more into the chicken until I hear the noise of the knife meeting the plate.

“Many pardons,” I say in a gruff voice, looking up toward Mace with my crooked smile. “I sometimes forget what I’m doing.”

Last Edit: Sept 13, 2012 14:10:11 GMT -5 by SinInChaos

Credit to Charity

kaylin
Merchant

[M:-300]

100 POSTS
last seen Jun 8, 2013 9:52:11 GMT -5

Another Chance // [D10 Tribs] Sept 14, 2012 18:21:30 GMT -5

Post by kaylin on Sept 14, 2012 18:21:30 GMT -5

Lydie hadn't been expecting any of this. The Reapings, the train ride, it was all like a nightmare come true. Why was she here? Why had she been picked, out of all the girls in her District why had it been her? She was walking through the train halls by herself, heading towards the dining part of the train. Everything was so foreign, so new. If she didn't know she was heading towards a dangerous battle for her life then she might actually have been enjoying this luxurious train ride to the Capitol. She looked at the ceiling at the beautiful chandeliers that lined the hallway. She smirked, really disgusted. One of those chandeliers could have bought her whole District enough food to last half a year.

Lydie was doing the best she could not to think about the Games, because whenever she did she felt like puking. When she was waiting for the train in the Justice Building she had thrown up so many times that she could still taste the puke in her mouth and her throat felt so sore that she guessed she wouldn't be able to talk again for a few days. That was ok though. She didn't really feel like talking.

After a few more minutes of walking and getting frustrated at herself every time she lost her way, she finally arrived at the Dining Hall. She took a deep breath and slid open the door. When she entered she realized she was standing right next to her District partner. He must have come in the door next to her. He was a strong looking, tough boy leaning on the brink of manhood. He seemed like the tough type who thought anyone smaller than him was worthless or weak. Lydie smirked. He probably thought she would die in the first few seconds.

Lydie wasn't as weak as people thought she was. She was smart and she knew how to use a knife pretty well. Sure, she might not be able to snap someone's neck with her bare hands, but she had talents in other departments. Lydie was good at keeping her wits about her. She was a level headed person. Right now she wasn't even scared exactly, just stunned and nervous. She was starting to really understand what had happened to her, but she was still nervous about how clueless she was to how she would deal with the Games. And how her family would deal with her being in them.

She walked quietly in the direction her District partner was going, matching his pace with every step. She made sure she had no expression on her face, trying to mask her feelings with a stone cold expression. She sat down at a table next to her partner, just noticing that there was another man there. She knew who he was instantly. Mace, one of the few District 10 victors. She didn't really know much about him, just that he was pretty famous.

Suddenly Lydie knows what her survival tactic will be in these Games. She doesn't know how it comes to her just then or why, but she knows what it is. She will pretend to be someone who she's not. No one at that table knows her, nor how she acts. In reality, Lydie is a nice, level headed girl who has a very strong sense of responsibility and knows her right from wrong. She is not complicated, nor rude or violent. But in these Games she will be someone so much more than that. She must change to survive, and so that is what she will do. In these Games Lydie will be someone different. In these Games, Lydie will change.

Lydie is shocked out of her thoughts by Mace's voice. It's strong and loud and commands her attention like an announcer with a microphone. He jokes almost playfully, “Have a seat. Dinner’s on me.”

Lydie laughs slightly, but not at the joke. He really thinks she cares about his stupid sense of humor. Wow. She is heading straight to her possible death and he's making jokes. She doesn't have time for jokes! But she knows that he is a respected man and she also knows that she needs sponsors. So she puts on a smile and tries to act like the nice respectful girl that she would be if she was back in ten.

She settles down in a chair and isn't sitting for more than a few minutes when her District partner noisily starts to saw his meat into tiny pieces, cutting it the way he would an animal. She sighs and closes her eyes. Why is he so set on standing out? Lydie doesn't want to be anyone special in these Games. She just wants to get through them. He apologizes for being rude and Lydie quietly starts eating she feels uncomfortable but she needs to make them believe that she is more ready for the Games than she really is.

Lydie looks up at Mace, staring him the eyes bravely but not rudely, and says, "So, Mace, do you have an tips for us in these Games? After all, you came out of them alright so there must have been some way you did that." She talked in a steady voice, strong but not as if she was full of herself. She was going to be prepared, but not draw attention to herself. She needed to let everyone know that she was not going to be overly cruel, but she was not going to be trampled over either. She kept looking at Mace, waiting for a response.