CHAPTER 2 - The Meeting | Hunger Games: The RPG

teezoen
Seam Resident

45 POSTS
last seen May 24, 2015 23:31:10 GMT -5

CHAPTER 2 - The Meeting Oct 14, 2012 22:11:05 GMT -5

Post by teezoen on Oct 14, 2012 22:11:05 GMT -5

ALDER HEATH

This is narration
This is spoken word
This is thought

It had been only a day and a half since my walk and chat with Karen, but even then, I hadn't expected it to be in the forefront of my mind for that long. I've had many other things to think about- making money at the warehouse, trying to work in a little school here and there, keeping the garden in order, helping around the house... not to mention the prescribed viewings of the Games when I'm not busy with all of that. All of which made me busy enough that it would be understandable if I pushed the conversation into the back of my mind, and focused on "more important things".

But the thing was, I hadn't really been able to focus on anything else.

And it wasn't like I had a crush on her. I knew what that felt like. This was different. I wasn't focused on HER so much as how I felt when we were talking. And I remember that we could almost see into each other, know what the other was thinking without even a moment's notice. I had never been good speaking to others, at least, not by my own opinion, but with her, I hadn't had to. It had felt... liberating. Like we had a kind of fellowship I'd never felt before. Even my father and I weren't this close.

But of course, I wasn't with her right now. Right now, I was folding up large wool coats and stuffing them in precise numbers into boxes, then taping them up and loading them onto a cart. The task was not exactly something that required a great deal of thought, or concentration, and so my mind was focused on something else entirely. Karen... and our conversation.

My little daydream was shattered by a call from the Overseer, who waved me over impatiently. I shoved the box I'd been working on up against the wall, and walked through the din of the warehouse around me towards him. He was a younger man, from where I know not, but he was angular, sharp, and grim looking. Very serious type. You didn't really want to deal with him unless you had to.

So when he told me to go get a few specialty shipments and bring them in, I was all over it. It got me away from him, and out of the warehouse. I walked through the large hallways that connected different parts of the complex, headed towards the specialty department. Usually, really high price stuff was done in there, and needed to be packaged very carefully. Apparently, I was just the man for the job.

Opening the door, I saw the ghastly outfits, and grimaced a little before looking them over. Checking to see where the creases would be best to put. Seeing how they'd fit into a shipping container. Which went with which... but I still couldn't get my mind off of her.

gloryisben
Hunter

55 POSTS
last seen Jul 4, 2020 7:25:38 GMT -5

CHAPTER 2 - The Meeting Oct 16, 2012 21:59:06 GMT -5

Post by gloryisben on Oct 16, 2012 21:59:06 GMT -5

Narration
Thoughts
Dialogue with other RPers
Quotes

Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive,
and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born

My mind is clear as I’m walking to work on this bleak weekend morning.

Clear, because no weight clouds my thoughts. I have resolved my issues with Trey, my father is doing well, and Lola and I spent some quality time together. Everything is looking up.

I have always been an optimist; I try, and most often succeed, to see the good in everyone. However, this feeling of lightness is foreign to me. I’m always fretting about one thing or other. My face is always affixed in “serious mode”, as Lola says. I honestly can’t remember a time when I was this… happy.

I keep my smile under wraps as I walk into the wool mill, though. Here, optimism and happiness don’t have their place. No disruptions from the seemingly endless production of woollen goods for the Capitolites. I punch in my name and grab my working gloves as I make my way to my station.

I’m a picker. I sit behind the wooden contraption that lets me separate and soften the threads of wool, and start packing some fresh sheers in the metal teeth of the bottom comb. I start to swing the overhead comb over the wool, as the freshly brushed strands fall in a box. I know they will be eventually end up on a conveyor belt to go through additional processing steps, but I like my job. I feel closer to nature this way; the material I start with is raw and freshly shorn, and I love transforming it into the soft wool used for the garments.

I haven’t been picking long when the overseer comes over with her clipboard.

“Karen Lightly; it’s your turn.”

Oh, great. I needed to get to the specialty department for inventory. That area of the wool mill is tightly controlled; the staff is always rotating. The factory owners have to know who is going in and who is going out. The garments stored in the specialty department are very expensive, and theft is not tolerated. Having a tally of the comings and goings made sure stealing wouldn’t go unpunished.

I grab the overseer’s clipboard and head to the department.

When I get there, the guard checks my ID and opens the door for me.

I start counting the garments and noting their condition as I move down the aisles. Suddenly, I hear a sound to my right. I thought I was alone, but sometimes more workers are solicited, depending on the workload. I shrug my shoulders and get back to my list.

I then glimpse a head of blonde hair moving quickly next to me. I look up and see a familiar shape packaging clothes.

My heart starts beating and my face feels hot. What is happening to me?

He slowly turns around, probably sensing that I’m staring at the back of his head.

And then, it hits me. Alder Heath: the reason why I’ve been feeling so happy lately.

Credit goes to SOUTH for the amazing header graphic! Thanks

teezoen
Seam Resident

45 POSTS
last seen May 24, 2015 23:31:10 GMT -5

CHAPTER 2 - The Meeting Oct 18, 2012 13:23:51 GMT -5

Post by teezoen on Oct 18, 2012 13:23:51 GMT -5

ALDER HEATH

This is narration
This is spoken word
This is thought
This is everything else

It's hard to keep a straight face when I just want to smile

As I worked, my face remained a mask of calm and concentration, looking down each garment for the proper point to fold and store it, and checking down the lists for where each should go into which shipping box. However, every now and then, my face would show some contortion, either of amusement or disgust in view of the clothing I held. The fabric was soft and luxurious wool that made my clothing look little better than rags, but the styling was horrid and otherworldly. The only Capital citizens I'd ever seen were the ones at Reapings, or maybe some on the TV during Hunger Games ceremonies, but I imagined they must look even stranger in person.

Despite the gaudy looks, I find myself wishing I had some of the fabric. My fingers stray a bit too long on some of the clothing, and I have to force myself to focus on the task at hand. My clothing is scratchy and rough, and despite the love that went into making it, and the warmth it gives me, this stuff seems so much nicer that the luxury of it entices me for a few moments. Workers had been caught trying to steal this stuff before- the horror stories of what happened afterwards helped push me back into work and keep going. Although it was nice to look at, I was fairly certain I'd never have anything like this myself. I was so concentrated on the work at hand, that I didn't hear the door open or close, or the footsteps.

It was only when the hangars near men began to scrape up and down the metal racks that I realized there was somebody else in the room with me. I managed to hide most of my surprise, not wanting to suddenly turn and damage something I was folding. As I heard the movement coming closer to me, I slowly turned to see who it was. Likely an inspector or an overseer checking my work, or possibly another worker-

...Karen?

My tongue is stone. She looks about as surprised as me. I try to think of something to say, but know that I can't say anything that I'd want to at this point. I could maybe exchange some useless pleasantries. My smile shatters my mask, though, and I turn fully to her. “Karen.” My voice is full of what may sound like relief. As if I was expressing thankfulness at her presence. “I'm so glad to see you again."

I don't think I can get away with much more than that, but as I'm about to slip into business, ask about something to do with inspections, whatever, I notice the red tint of her face. It HAS been getting chilly lately. My complexion turns from one of happiness to concern, and I walk closer to her, looking her over. “Are you okay? You look feverish." Even something as small as that could be dangerous when medicine was as rare and expensive as it was. I didn't want her getting sick.

Last Edit: Oct 18, 2012 13:31:19 GMT -5 by teezoen

gloryisben
Hunter

55 POSTS
last seen Jul 4, 2020 7:25:38 GMT -5

CHAPTER 2 - The Meeting Oct 20, 2012 10:54:38 GMT -5

Post by gloryisben on Oct 20, 2012 10:54:38 GMT -5

Narration
Thoughts
Dialogue with other RPers
Quotes

“Are you okay? You look feverish.”

I feel an expression of confusion on my face, as Alder looks at me in concern. Are you really this clueless? Then I realize what he’s actually done: given me an out. Sickness. Yes, I’m sick.

“Oh”, I say, slowly lifting a hand to my forehead, “I haven’t been feeling good all day. Maybe I’m getting a slight fever…”

I see that he’s about to express worry, about how a fever is never slight, and that we need to be careful. I know where he’s coming from: when you get sick in District 8, you die. Before he can place a word in, I turn around and resume the inventory of the woollen garments, changing the subject.

“It’s really good to bump in to you. I didn’t know when I would see you again, since you don’t really come to school.”

I hear him returning to work, folding carefully the clothing that is worth more than our whole lives. I slide the hangers one by one, checking the threads, making sure there are no defects.

“Oh, and just so you know, Trey and I made up. I wanted to thank you for that. I think that, for the first time, a third party changed my mind. You can be very persuasive. Without meaning to be, I’m sure.”

I shoot him a grin. I know that Alder didn’t mean to change my mind. He was only being genuine and attentive.

That’s what’s so great about him.

Credit goes to SOUTH for the amazing header graphic! Thanks

teezoen
Seam Resident

45 POSTS
last seen May 24, 2015 23:31:10 GMT -5

CHAPTER 2 - The Meeting Oct 21, 2012 12:35:33 GMT -5

Post by teezoen on Oct 21, 2012 12:35:33 GMT -5

ALDER HEATH

This is narration
This is spoken word
This is thought
This is everything else

“If I can see pain in your eyes then share with me your tears... If I can see joy in your eyes then share with me your smile”

I couldn't understand her confusion when I spoke to her about fever. Was she really that oblivious to her health? Something was nagging at the back of my mind, and the way she spoke afterwards was strange. As if she wasn't worried about sickness at all. She wasn't stupid- she would be a lot more cautious if she was getting sick.

It's because she isn't sick. She was-

I turn back to my work quickly, suddenly unable to keep looking at her. Folding the clothing, but keeping half an eye on her, I feel my own cheeks redden. I hadn't even considered the alternative meaning. I remembered our last meeting for many different reasons, but I had never considered that she actually enjoyed my company for reasons other than sympathetic conversation. Maybe she didn't and I was still imagining it.

But as she speaks again after a short silence, I find myself turning to her, an involuntary smile spreading across my face. Her smile seemed to trigger it- my face was still a little red. From my own personal "fever". Which only deepens as she compliments me.

"I am so glad that you two worked it out... I hoped you would." I can't help but smile at her. Her smile is intoxicating, pulling the smile out of me, enticing me to happiness. "I felt better after the walk too. It was... nice. So thanks for that." My voice is quiet again, as if afraid to shatter the silence around us, seeking to slip through it gently- or maybe I'm afraid to break the spell that keeps our eyes locked together.

Either way, a sudden noise somewhere in the factory- probably just a machine belching suddenly- sends me back to work quickly, flinching sideways and back to folding. Staring at the clothing in front of me, I find that if anything, I am more distracted than when I began. Drat. But the sound of the hangars scraping down the racks reminds me that she's here, and right now, even that is comforting in itself.

gloryisben
Hunter

55 POSTS
last seen Jul 4, 2020 7:25:38 GMT -5

CHAPTER 2 - The Meeting Oct 21, 2012 13:26:07 GMT -5

Post by gloryisben on Oct 21, 2012 13:26:07 GMT -5

Narration
Thoughts
Dialogue with other RPers
Quotes

After Alder spoke, there was a warm silence that enveloped us as we looked at each other, at ease in our company.

Suddenly a sound shatters the moment, and I return to my hangers. It’s slow going, but I somehow don’t mind this work today. Feeling Alder’s presence behind me helps the process.

I think about my week as I note the inventory on my clipboard. Lola was a little boy-crazy, surprisingly. I met a new friend, Scarlett. My dad was more exhausted than usual, but I feel like I helped him out to the best of my ability. Trey and I are good, and for some reason he went to school every single day.

I furrow my brow. School. I wonder if it’s a sore subject to Alder. There are so many things I’d like to ask him… How’s his family life? What does he think about when he’s working long hours? Has he lost anyone in the Games?

Maybe I could try to make his days a little brighter. He had mentioned that he loved reading and writing but didn’t get the chance to do so anymore, and a couple seconds ago he said he liked our time spent together…

I shake my head a little bit. Are you getting ahead of yourself? My wish to be independent and my yearning for companionship are battling in my head. These two forces have always struggled within me. I feel like I have to prove myself: look at the Lightly girl, losing her mom didn’t make her weak! But we live such lonely lives in District 8, I can’t help but want more for myself. Yes, I want more.

I steel myself and turn to Alder, straightening my shirt and squaring my shoulders as I did so. Taking a breath, words haltingly spill from my mouth: “Hey Alder… how would you… Do you think you’d like to get some tutoring lessons? I could go over to your place a few nights a week? I know you miss school and…”

The door of the specialty department swings open, and a mean-looking, imposing and fuming overseer stalks into the room, fury drawn into his features.

I fold into myself, my pulse quickening, my forehead glistening with sweat.

I am very, very afraid.

Last Edit: Oct 23, 2012 7:07:49 GMT -5 by gloryisben

Credit goes to SOUTH for the amazing header graphic! Thanks

teezoen
Seam Resident

45 POSTS
last seen May 24, 2015 23:31:10 GMT -5

CHAPTER 2 - The Meeting Oct 21, 2012 18:30:05 GMT -5

Post by teezoen on Oct 21, 2012 18:30:05 GMT -5

ALDER HEATH

This is narration
This is spoken word
This is thought
This is everything else

“If I can see pain in your eyes then share with me your tears...”

As soon as I hear the door slam, I know we are in trouble. I feel myself cringe as the man advances on us. And behind him, a pair of Peacekeepers. This is not going to be pretty, or something I want to remember. I've seen it happen before- people slow to finish something, or tired, or sick, and an overseer coming down on them. At least they were just yelled at because they were legitimately confused, or injured or something. We were doing little better than slacking? What had I been thinking?!

As he approaches, I see him roll up his sleeves, and I feel myself start to shake a little. He is NOT here on social business. Even as he draws back his arm, I know better than to struggle, with the Peacekeepers in the room, so I just turn my head-

Pain. Oh it hurts. I feel his fist sink into my stomach and I know there's no way my knees can hold me. My breath leaves me suddenly, and I fall to my knees, gasping for air. My hands automatically move towards my stomach to protect me, but his leg is moving too quickly- his foot slams into my gut again, sending me all the way down to the ground in a heap, coughing and gasping for air. I brace for a third blow, my hands over my head, but it never comes.

That's when I hear her scream. And I hear a slap.

My head jerks up. KAREN! I hear the boots behind me, and I don't dare make any other moves towards her. The Peacekeepers would be on me in an instant. I watch helplessly as he slaps her again, and then one last time, throwing her to the ground.

He glares down at me, and I cower again, like a whipped dog. “"What the hell do you think I pay her for? To talk to you all day? Worthless leech! Maybe I should tell the Warehouse about this?" The look on my face must reveal how that would affect my future, because he grins at me. I can't afford to be fired from a job. Not now, not ever. It would scar my record, and I'd be hard pressed to make money anywhere else. He knows this- holds it over my head.

Fear spreads across my face as I feel hands pulling me up. The two Peacekeepers shove us near each other as we stand and look at the ground, shaking as our betters glare at us. “Look at me when I talk to you!" My head snaps up automatically. Just like a dog. Trained. Obedient.

Terrified.

His voice is low, not full of anger like it was moments ago, but quiet, full of something worse- threats. “I think you two need a little reminder of what is expected of you here. Do you feel it's okay to slack off like that? Waste my time?"

My response is automatic. “No sir.”

"Then I don't expect we'll be seeing anymore slacking, then will we?"

"No sir.”

I gulp as I see a satisfied smile play across his face. Whatever anger would have arisen at my treatment is quashed by my fear- fear for me, fear for Karen. I've never been beaten before, or had Peacekeepers staring me down. It's frightening.

He stares at us for a moment, and then the anger is back. “Well?! What are you waiting for? Get back to work!" He hardly has to tell me. I'm folding things faster than I knew I ever could, matching the creases exactly, double checking for threads out of place, anything loose. I hear him turn and leave as I close a box up, packing it tightly in place so that the clothes don't flop around in the box.

He speaks quietly as he leaves, the threatening voice sending chills down my spine. “I don't think you two will need lunch break today. These gentleman will stay and make sure you understood me completely. Good day."

Sweat on my brow, frantic fear on my face. Peacekeepers behind me. Karen. Karen beside me. I struggled to hold onto the only good I could pull out of the situation.

I would see her again in better circumstances.

Soon.

But for now, fold. Stash. Pack. Tape. Move on. And don't stop.

gloryisben
Hunter

55 POSTS
last seen Jul 4, 2020 7:25:38 GMT -5

CHAPTER 2 - The Meeting Oct 21, 2012 22:14:49 GMT -5

Post by gloryisben on Oct 21, 2012 22:14:49 GMT -5

Narration
Thoughts
Dialogue with other RPers
Quotes

Your red eye sees no pain.

I’m frozen, paralyzed by fear as I watch the overseer flanked by two Peacekeepers advance on us.

I run the last couple of hours in my head in a giant loop. Have we taken too much time? Have we slacked off? How could we have been so stupid, so naïve, to think that no one was watching our every move?

As my brain frantically tries to catch up to the fear that is spreading across my chest, my eyes open wide. The overseer is rolling up his sleeves and stalking up to Alder, building momentum.

Before I even get the reflex to scream or run to him, Alder is on his knees, gasping for air. I get the urge to reach out, do anything to stop the next blow I know is coming, but the Peacekeepers hold me back, each one grabbing an arm. Tears are streaming down my face as I watch the boy’s face contort in pain, arms over his head.

Too concentrated on Alder, I don’t even see the overseer move from him to me. I scream of surprise as much as of anticipated hurt as I feel the searing pain across my right cheek. I shake my head, trying to regain my senses. I see out of the corner of my eye Alder’s face shoot up, probably feeling the same need to protect as I did, but the Peacekeeper holding my right arm makes a move towards him and the boy freezes. I want him to turn around so that he doesn’t see what comes next but the overseer is already swinging his arm backwards, aiming to my left for another blow.

Please, stop. My cheeks, my jaw, my whole face feels inflamed and heavy. I can’t even cry, my eyes dried up with rage and fear. My legs are weak, splaying under me. The Peacekeepers are the only thing keeping me from sprawling on the floor.

Then I feel his rough, open hand on my right cheek again, and the Peacekeepers throw me to the ground.

The cool floor feels wonderful on my cheeks. My thoughts are all jumbled, the lights swimming in my eyes. I can’t make sense of what’s happening…

I’m suddenly being pushed upward, and I feel Alder’s body next to mine. We’re shaking, exhausted and terrified, as the overseer yells at us to look at him.

I do my best to raise my weary head and meet his gaze. I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry anymore.

The overseer accuses us of slacking off and hiss words that have lost their meaning as we both answer with “No, sirs”. When he’s satisfied that we feel threatened enough, he screams about getting us back to work.

We turn around and quickly get back to task. Just as my shoulders start releasing their tension, the overseer yells that we won’t be getting a lunch break.

My eyes fill with tears of rage. The fear has been replaced by the anger that is boiling in my chest. I can’t stay here; I’m hurt, hungry and exhausted, and my heart aches for what Alder must be feeling right now.

I feel the numb gaze of the PKs on my back, watching and waiting for us to take a little too much time. It’s a new feeling, the one that’s sprouting up from the bottom of my stomach and spreading its tendrils to the far-reaching corners of my body.

I don’t know if this feeling has a name. But it makes way to something, a word that I will hold onto.

Revenge.