.;gotta come back down.; TSH {vs.} EIM

Nofo
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I'm back.

.;gotta come back down.; TSH {vs.} EIM Feb 9, 2013 13:34:39 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Nofo on Feb 9, 2013 13:34:39 GMT -5

you’d be damned to be one of us girl
faced with the dodo’s conundrum,
I felt like I could just fly
but nothing happened every time I tried
ignore this

After hours of walking alongside River Destin, Emerald walked into a area teeming with greens and blooming with bright flowers. She couldn't trust the beauty of it enough to enjoy any of it. This garden was designed for death, Emerald could only hope she'd live to move on to the other horrors of the arena. However, for her, they were treasures and obstacles. She'd been trained to savor every blessing brought upon her in the Games. However, it was impossible to shake the inevitability of death here. The early morning light peered down upon her in a haze through the clouds and drowned out every color but green. Thanks, guys. Free camo. She thought while drawing her hood around her face.

God, the Games was filled with more waiting and paranoia than she'd known. It all came down to trusting your allies but didn't that require feeling? The best Emerald Shore could manage was a smile that looked more like a tiger than a girl. Her exposure to empathy was non-existent. Everything she'd grown to know was wrong and one-sided. No one knew who Emerald really was, not even her. There'd been no time for self-discovery in her eighteen years, only training. Incapable of feeling with all the parts that should feel, what a paradox. Emerald Shore really was a robot with a heart of steel. Her eyes grazed over the leafy greens of the garden with unfeeling focus. Scanning for food was all her brain could process, programmed to register the beauty but not acknowledge.

Emotion was weakness, sympathy was a crime. Aesthetics were pointless. Everything that makes a human was outlawed for a Shore. Emmy was with River for strategic purposes, there was nothing stopping her from turning on her in an instant but necessity. Perhaps somewhere inside, she wanted to like River. Possibly, if she was different, River and Emerald could truly be friends. No. Emerald Shore was cursed to live as an unfeeling machine who had no idea she was broken.

"Alright... Should we get ready to go?" She whispered close by River while still ignoring anything that didn't look edible or useful. "There's nothing here." But she was wrong and in the moments that followed she was scolding herself for her carelessness.

With the rustling of leaves and other plants, Emerald was prepared with her axe ready and the lid already screwed off the tar. Carefully, she smeared the tar over the battle-axe without using her hands and by the gift of Ripred ignited a flame. The tributes came into view and there was nothing holding her back. Emerald gave a quick glance to River and lunged at the girl from twelve, weakened by wounds from the Bloodbath. This was her chance. It was a three on two but they were two girls from career districts against the misfit mafia. There was no time for fear, it was better to embrace death than run from it.

[Attacks Meela; FLAMING BATTLE-AXE!!!!!]
[dice=200+11000]
[dice=50]
[11104 -- Shallow Cut on Left Calf -- 3.5 damage
(Axe) and extinguished flame.]

Emerald ignited her battle-axe using fire-making and used a jar of tar.

ooc; it's a wip cause I needed to start it.

dare to be one of us girl
facing the android’s conundrum
I felt like I should just cry
but nothing happens every time
I take one on the chin

[/center][/justify][rand=515171419978944858773612867556088922769143252916585451781772382]

Last Edit: Feb 9, 2013 14:02:57 GMT -5 by Nofo

And you think you see me.

Deleted

0 POSTS
last seen Nov 14, 2024 12:10:09 GMT -5

.;gotta come back down.; TSH {vs.} EIM Feb 9, 2013 19:28:32 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Deleted on Feb 9, 2013 19:28:32 GMT -5

[bg=222222][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style,width: 500px]

a constellation of tears on your lashes
burn everything you love then burn the ashes
in the end, everything collides
my childhood spat back out
the monster that you see

Last night, I watched the parade of faces in the sky, and the fact that I couldn't remember which ones I put there made me sick. I laid there in a little outcropping of rock above the hissing snake-sea with Emmy curled up a small distance away from me, both of our eyes roaming over the portraits of the fallen. One of them was hers, two of them were mine, and I couldn't even figure out who they were. I remember how they died - brain and blood spattering against the golden wall of the Cornucopia, a leg reduced to splinters of bone and strings of muscle - but their faces are mercifully(?) blank slates in my mind, the anonymity of their wasted youth weighing heavily like liquid lead in my veins.

Emerald and I both slept with one eye open last night (our distrust for each other sits noticeably in the air, our backs always tensed in the anticipation of a knife in them), but neither of us mention our uneasy slumber as we get up and break camp, rolling the tarps we used for a makeshift tent back into our blankets and placing our weapons where they can be easily grabbed. It's a long, slow climb out of the pit. I make sure that Emmy doesn't see me looking for Noah's form off in the distance.

I don't know why I thought a knife and a pocketful of good intentions would make him stay. Noah Ripley owes me no allegiance, and by all means I shouldn't even be as invested in his fate as I've become - something in me freezes to the core at the thought of him out there alone, an irrational terror gripping me in iron clutches. I had never spoken to him in my life until Reaping Day. Now, the idea of his face in the sky nearly undoes me. It's an odd, cruel thing how the Games work, pulling people together even as they're being (literally) ripped apart.

We emerge into a verdant would-be paradise, the cloying scent of dying flowers flooding our lungs. It reminds me too much of the funeral home, too much of Fledger with his waxy complexion and cold, cold hands, and I find myself unconsciously holding my breath. But after a few seconds, I give into the gasps from the exertion of the climb, the sticky-sweet odor of beauty's death turning my stomach as I sink into the hollow of a nearby tree and try to regain my bearings. I don't notice the spade until I nearly impale my foot on it, its sharp edge scraping over the sole of my sandal. Curiously, I pull the old relic out of the dirt, running a contemplative finger along its broken, jagged outline before shoving it into my backpack. One can never have enough weapons, even if this one is hella ratchet in comparison to the rest of my arsenal.

[River obtains a Ghetto-Fabulous Garden Spade Shank from the RE]

The flail tucked into the waistband of my shorts has the blood of two lives staining it, marring the sharp metal spikes with rusty splotches. Almost unconsciously, I dig the jar of tar out of my back, rubbing it over the metal until the bloodstains disappear under a much less unsettling sheen of black. I've killed people. Two people. But just because the Capitol celebrates it doesn't mean I have to acknowledge it.

"Alright… should we get ready to go? There's nothing here," Emerald whispers through the foliage, and I nod, heaving my aching body back to its feet with a small groan of protest. Anywhere with this much plant life is bound to have water nearby, and we can probably rustle up something to eat from all these roots and leaves. There are plenty of things to accomplish before the sun goes down, even without the impending threat of -

The leaves to my right rustle, and my first panicked thought is Oh god, Noah. I know Emmy well enough to know that she won't spare him twice, especially in his weakened state after the snake bites. But by some odd mercy (or damnation, or perhaps both) it's not my District Partner that comes crashing through the bracken, but a group of three tributes whose names I never learned. Three. We're outnumbered. A sense of molten dread coils in my gut.

And then Emerald's axe bursts into flame.

Gaping, I watch her dive at the most haggard-looking of the tributes, a skinny little girl with a Lower District cast to her features. Twelve, I remember distantly as the blade carves a violent furrow into her skin. Meela Birdbrook from District Twelve. I curse myself internally as I dig a match out of my backpack and turn my tar-coated flail into a whirling cyclone of immolation, remembering the echo of the epiphany I'd had at lunch time a million years and whole universes ago. It's harder to kill them if you know their name.

"I'm sorry, Meela Birdbrook," I whisper, winding up to swing. "I'm so sorry."

[River uses one of her matches, her tar, and firemaking on her flail]

[River attacks Meela Birdbrook with her FLAMING FLAIL OF FURY]
[dice=200+12000]
[dice=50]
[Deep Gash on Chest -- 9.5 damage // Moderate Burn -- 4.0 damage]

my songs know what you did in the dark
so light 'em up, up, up, light 'em up, up, up
light 'em up, up, up, i'm on fire
so light 'em up, up, up, light 'em up, up, up
light 'em up, up, up, i'm on fire in the dark, woah

[/blockquote][/justify][/td][/tr][/table]

[/center][rand=6713088711258024564082730794325568972447095438843559983808081597]

Last Edit: Feb 10, 2013 2:17:04 GMT -5 by Deleted

florentine, d4b ❁
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Pronouns: she/her
last seen Nov 14, 2024 6:14:46 GMT -5

.;gotta come back down.; TSH {vs.} EIM Feb 9, 2013 19:48:50 GMT -5

Quote

Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on Feb 9, 2013 19:48:50 GMT -5

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i46.tinypic.com/1e3uyx.jpg); width: 498px; padding-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true]

ivy soren.

[/font]

we keep on paying those freaks on the tv
who claim they will save us but want to enslave us
and sweating like demons they scream through our speakers
but we leave the sound on 'cause silence is harder
and no one's the killer and no one's the matyr[/center]

I forgot to sleep last night. The hunger doesn't bother me. Ivy Soren is the name of a girl who spent eleven years under lock and key with a little stale bread when it suited her father. (I am not weak, thanks to him.) Even the thirst that itches at my throat has yet to take it's toll on my performance - I did not sleep because my brain tumbled and turned and my eyes fell upon the soft faces of my bran new allies. Without lying, I cannot say I didn't think of home.

Indigo, understandably, is the first person to grace my thoughts as the sun falls. I see her everywhere in the arena.[/color] Each time I twirl and my hair flashes over my shoulder or my hands reach out too far before my face, I see her features moving beside me. (We are one and the same - and to think that to be apart was what I wanted.) Each time I swear she's with me, my heart jumps so violently I feel the need to rest, and every muscle in my body tenses. It could so easily of been her - strong and smiling and with so much to lose.[/color] Instead, I was chosen from the pool of fateful goodbyes.

For this, at least, I am glad. Our difference is in that I had everything to gain from this experience. Where she would be daunted by the seemingly-endless arena and the horrors that lay within, I smile. Even in the dead of the night, listening to Featherbrain's heartbeat and wishing she wouldn't breathe quite so loudly[/color] I am glad to be here. (I do understand those who beg not to be taken away, but they were probably happy to begin with.)

"Oh my god, can't you breathe a little less obnoxiously?" I hiss through the darkness, towards a dark shape I very much hope is Meela. She's either sleeping or ignoring me. I'm happy with either[/color] - every word that leaves the girl's lips is ignorant. All through the day we snarked back and forth at each other, unable to leave it but keeping to our word all the same. She's going to die anyway, I may as well ignore her.[/color] Hatred holds no baring in the arena.

I roll my eyes and settle into a state of consciousness that can hardly be called sleep and yet isn't quite awake. When the anthem paints itself across the sky I watch Sampson's face fade and be replaced with that of many others.[/color] With each tribute that has fallen, my grin stretches wider. I wonder for a moment if the cameras are focusing on my glee or currently directed elsewhere, at someone else who's still to die. I wonder if they can tell that I'm one step closer to leaving the arena and returning home.[/color] Perhaps they aren't as sure of this as I am, but they soon will be.

When Featherbrain and That Boy[/color] awaken, we walk. Within minutes I'm snapping at my female companion, angry and refusing to show my frustration on my face. My eyes roll so far back in my head that they ache,[/color] but I don't mention it. (The flowers are sweet at first, but then they are sickening and I choke on their foul scent that is far too lovely for poison.)[/color] Bright colours climb the lattice, abandoned and yet ever so alive. This place breathes love and happiness and psychedelic bliss - we are warned far before it happens that the surrounds are not to be trusted.

When they attack Meela Birdbrook, my heart stops and anger bleeds inside my chest. What right do they have to take her away just like they took Sampson - they want me to be lonely, I can feel it[/color]. I watch the fire lick and curl around the girl, damaging her already wrecked body even further. She lifts her pliers (how adorable) and looks right at the girl who brought so much pain to her skin. "Don't be an idiot." I say, stepped back from those who threaten us with their weapons, toward the safety of my last ally.

There is only one thing to do and I do it. "Oh, leave her alone," I chide, my voice almost as sweet as the flowers that surround us. Such a nice place to die, don't you think?[/color] "And come on, Featherbrain, haven't you always wanted to rebel?"

With this, I swing my flail toward Ezra[/color], flinching as it misses and I lurch forward. He reminds me of my father - all boys do, with their smiles and cheekbones and eyes that look at you[/color] in a way I can't shake myself free of. "Promises were made to be broken, right?"

I'm dangerous[/color] - I can feel it in my veins, pulsing in the blood I inherited from him[/color].

normal text
emphasis one.

[/color]
(notes)[/color]
"words!"[/center]

{ivy soren attacks ezra with her ~~magical cat~~ flail}

[dice=200+12000]

{miss}

[/color]

the weather report keeps tossing and turning
predicting and warning and warning of
possible leakage with news publications and possible
leakage from news tv stations, the very same morning
right next to her coffee she noticed some bleeding

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/color]
[/td][/tr][/table]

[/center][rand=9715738224331297047145955730232746975976042449528791399602778256]

Last Edit: Feb 9, 2013 20:15:28 GMT -5 by florentine, d4b ❁

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worm food

meg.
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.;gotta come back down.; TSH {vs.} EIM Feb 9, 2013 19:49:05 GMT -5

Quote

Post by meg. on Feb 9, 2013 19:49:05 GMT -5

MEELA AHLI BIRDBROOK.

[/color][/font][/i][/right]

II.

[/color][/font]Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves[/color]
And Immortality. [/right][/tt]

I can taste you now. It's an experience I've never had before; someone who I am so strongly attached too, I can figure out their flavor. You're one of those starchy, creamy flavours; like baked potatoes and butter, or pasta with white sauce. As delicious as it is, it's not particularly interesting. A nice complement, but certainly not a main meal.

Why you? It's a question I've never stopped to ask myself before. I have followed Kings and paupers, revolutionaries and dictators, geniuses and creative maestros. There are those who could tell me more about myself than I know, and there are those who know nothing about your world. You are somewhere in between, definitely not an extreme, definitely not interesting in the scale of things. Perhaps it is because you are a perfect example of humanity, someone not afraid to be flawed and to create flaws. That's the problem with far too many of you: you think of yourselves as diamonds, when you're nothing more than grains of sand.

Do you turn on him, or is it confusion that drives your pliers towards him? There is too much noise for me to read anything from your mind. All I can see is the situation as a third party. They ambush you, and there is nothing I can do to stop them. They go for you, or course, and why wouldn't they? You're the one whose clothes are soaked in day old blood. You're the one who is weak, burning low. You're the one whose thoughts are blurred, confused. You're the one who doesn't know how to run.

You miss Ezra, of course. You weren't looking where you were stabbing and I don't think you wanted to connect with flesh. It's all happening so quickly. Slice. Miss. Squelch. Waltz. Before you know it, Meela, it will be over. Before you know it, you'll take me.

[/SIZE][/color][/font][/justify]

We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too,[/color]
For his civility. [/right][/tt]

{Attacks Ezra with her pliers ~~of death~~}

[dice=200+7000]

{miss}
{WIP OMG I AM SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME}
{Dickinson, Emily. 'Because I could not stop for Death' Poems: Series 1 (1890)}
{Palate}

[/center]
[/SIZE][/font][/blockquote]
[rand=6642725116917845606900680840190789052131804919439960374042784719]

Last Edit: Feb 23, 2013 15:39:44 GMT -5 by meg.

School is the bane of my life
Career Tribute

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.;gotta come back down.; TSH {vs.} EIM Feb 9, 2013 23:18:50 GMT -5

Quote

Post by School is the bane of my life on Feb 9, 2013 23:18:50 GMT -5

Im standing in Brooklyn just waiting for something to happen

I can't help but love thinking that everyone doesn't get it
To my left there's a window, where did I go?
My reflection just blends to rows of clothes
And bad ideas, ideas nonetheless, in a song[/center][/color][/size]

I slept restlessly that night as the dawn crept closer and the cuts made so hollowly against my seemingly leather skin burned against the cold evening air. Sleep with one eye open, Ezra The ghost of a tribute-long dead whispered, and brittle bones became chilled and frigid to the core.

wip because I want north to write her own tribute
what da fudge owen hood y u attack me
lol my damage was cut in half over night bitches
ooh look purty colors
what da fudge ivy
what da fudge meela
lol where is cassius when I need him
imma only doing this to keep you alive, NORTH. don't hate meee.
meghan out bitches

[Ezra attacks River Destin with his bad-ass mothafucking knife]
[dice=200+2000]
[block, 0.0]

welp she blocked. north you can write this too lololol

[/size]
[rand=40472625848562943408634850722041032427181374495295543337735239974]

Last Edit: Feb 9, 2013 23:19:36 GMT -5 by School is the bane of my life

Nofo
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[M:-201]

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Pronouns: they/them
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I'm back.

.;gotta come back down.; TSH {vs.} EIM Feb 9, 2013 23:38:37 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Nofo on Feb 9, 2013 23:38:37 GMT -5

you’d be damned to be one of us girl
faced with the dodo’s conundrum,
I felt like I could just fly
but nothing happened every time I tried
ignore this

It was supposed to be a fight of two alliances but it really seemed one-sided at this point. What were they even doing? Emmy would need to step her game up after that impressive attack by River on Meela from District Twelve. River already had two kills, that was enough to spark Emerald's competitive drive. If River could have two kills, so should Emerald. Fierce competition was the best way for Emmy to grow as a tribute and she would be quick to get five-billion kills in three days. Nah, but it was important that she one-up all of her competition in any way possible, otherwise she was nothing next to them and would go down in infamy as the girl from District One who couldn't. After over a decade of practice, Emerald was prepared for this more than anyone else and they would not make her look stupid. The next kill must go to her and Ripred knew she hoped she could do it in her next attack.

"I'm sorry this has to happen this way," her voice raspy in a whisper as she crouched with her weapon at the ready already smeared with a fresh coating of tar she'd taken from the corpse of her first kill. "You weren't meant for the Games, we're doing you a favor."

Her face illuminated in an instance as the flame nearly tickled her cheek on the tilt back before hurling through the air. Emerald Shore prayed this wouldn't extinguish the flame as the one before it had, the awesome power of Emerald Shore should be famed. What was more awe-inspiring than a girl burnt to ashes by a flame. This was who Emerald Shore should be. The girl who could.

[Attacks Meela; FLAMING BATTLE-AXE!!!!!]
[dice=200+11000]
[dice=50]
[11003 -- Deep Gash on Cheek -- 8.5 damage
(Axe) and extinguished]

Emerald ignited her battle-axe using fire-making and used the last jar of tar.

{I really didn't know what to say here with the fillers so...}

dare to be one of us girl
facing the android’s conundrum
I felt like I should just cry
but nothing happens every time
I take one on the chin

[/center][/justify][rand=0088576048110432517655764856702568091714031247448155938825484144398]

Last Edit: Feb 9, 2013 23:39:12 GMT -5 by Nofo

And you think you see me.

Deleted

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.;gotta come back down.; TSH {vs.} EIM Feb 9, 2013 23:54:04 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Deleted on Feb 9, 2013 23:54:04 GMT -5

[bg=222222][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style,width: 500px]

a constellation of tears on your lashes
burn everything you love then burn the ashes
in the end, everything collides
my childhood spat back out
the monster that you see

The burning head of my flail sinks into her chest with a sickening, squishy thud, One of the sharp spikes digging a bright scarlet furrow over the mountain range of her ribs. The blood sprays everywhere, but the thing that really turns my stomach is the awful smell of burning flesh that kicks in as her torn clothes catch the flame, holding the fire too close to her skin. When I was four, I touched a hot stove and cried for an hour as my mother tried to soothe the pain away. I can't even imagine this. I was always confrontational, never backing down from playground fistfights or backyard scrapes, but somewhere along the way I've crossed the line between wounding and killing. We are killing her. And this time, I know I'll remember her face.

But then the unthinkable happens, and instead of attacking us in full-force, the alliance turns on itself. The girls aim their weapons not at Emerald, not at me, but rather at the smallish boy from Three that had arrived with them. He doesn't have time to defend, already trapped in the momentum of an attack coming towards me, one that I bat away with shock etched into my face. Everything is falling apart here on the stage of this bloody tragedy, and keeping up or dying are the only options.

"I'm sorry this has to happen this way," Emmy whispers to Meela Birdbrook, her face impassive. It's as if she doesn't even see the blood, the charred flesh, the heavy cloak of Death hovering just above the little girl from Twelve's shoulders. I wonder what it's like to be a Career, exposed to ruination and gore until you're entirely numb to it. I don't know if that would make this easier, or simply make it weigh more on my consciousness. Distantly, I decide that I'd rather feel while I still can. "You weren't meant for the Games, we're doing you a favor."

I really do wonder what it would be like to feel nothing, nothing but the grim, satisfied smile on Emerald Shore's face as her blade scrapes viciously across the other girl's face, adding to the waterfall of red that makes a too-stark contrast with the sea of green at our feet. The sick sensation warping my insides is almost enough to make me change my mind and wish I could be numb. Stumbling back in an almost-panic, I regain a bit of my resolve, shaking my head. I don't know Meela Birdbrook beyond her face and her name, but she deserves more than my numbness.

All of us deserve more than apathy… right? We deserve for someone to hurt as they snuff out our lives like the brief flicker of a candle's flame, deserve to haunt their dreams and remind them that we existed. Meela Birdbrook won't get that if Emmy kills her. While I don't have anything personal against the District One girl, there's an odd air about her that says she could probably carve through half the Arena in a day and never bat an eye.

(Am I any better? I'm the one who doesn't even remember the lives she claimed in the Bloodbath, who will go into Oblivion still not knowing the ones she dragged there with her)

There is always a choice. East - let Emmy take a kill that won't burden her nonexistent conscience, run away with at least a small piece of my innocence intact. West - take Meela Birdbrook's blood onto my own hands, give her the memory she deserves, the haunting that I deserve. And of course, there is always Fledger, waiting to the South, his arms open. I could stand here and simply let the lot of them carve me to pieces, the girl from Twelve and I embarking together down a road where no one knows what's at the end.

Shakily, I grab for the compass hanging at my neck, holding it in front of my face. The needle wobbles, hovering unsteadily over the scripted "W." A compass always points North; this one always points home, to Brooke, but sometimes you have to go around to go forward, slogging through dirt and blood and wounds to your soul. I seem to have forgotten what I decided in the Bloodbath. There is no South for me now.

I step forward, edging around Emerald and trying to look stronger than I really am as my flail descends, my eyes locking onto Meela Birdbrook's for a fraction of a second. "I'll remember you."

Not yet, Fledger. Not yet.

[River attacks Meela Birdbrook with her FLAMING FLAIL OF FURY]
[dice=200+12000]
[dice=50]
[Miss -- 0.0 damage // Minor Burn -- 2.0 damage]

my songs know what you did in the dark
so light 'em up, up, up, light 'em up, up, up
light 'em up, up, up, i'm on fire
so light 'em up, up, up, light 'em up, up, up
light 'em up, up, up, i'm on fire in the dark, woah

[/blockquote][/justify][/td][/tr][/table]

[/center][rand=8653572117909789727557850070297713230108562856913048068160424008965]

Last Edit: Feb 16, 2013 14:55:13 GMT -5 by Deleted

florentine, d4b ❁
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Pronouns: she/her
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.;gotta come back down.; TSH {vs.} EIM Feb 13, 2013 0:13:08 GMT -5

Quote

Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on Feb 13, 2013 0:13:08 GMT -5

"You're all fucking cowards, you realise that, don't you? Cowards. She was weak and you took her out because that's the Games. But what you don't realise is that you're all going down in the end."

"You're all delusional if you think this is going to get you any closer to home."

filler filler filler because reasons

{ivy soren flees the fight, collecting edible and medicinal plants}

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School is the bane of my life Career Tribute [M:9285] 579 POSTS last seen Mar 22, 2013 11:41:07 GMT -5	.;gotta come back down.; TSH {vs.} EIM Feb 13, 2013 0:19:49 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by School is the bane of my life on Feb 13, 2013 0:19:49 GMT -5 Meela deserved to die, trust and all that Bitch pls Filler filler filler filler ( Ezra collects 2 Bundles of Med and 1 bundle of Edible plants )
	Last Edit: Feb 13, 2013 0:38:55 GMT -5 by School is the bane of my life

Nofo
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I'm back.

.;gotta come back down.; TSH {vs.} EIM Feb 13, 2013 0:32:22 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Nofo on Feb 13, 2013 0:32:22 GMT -5

you’d be damned to be one of us girl
faced with the dodo’s conundrum,
I felt like I could just fly
but nothing happened every time I tried
ignore this

filler yo so Ezra can flee

{Emmy gives Ezra a empty jug, and gathers 1 bundle of edible plants and 2 bundles of medicinal plants for herself. Also, permission to River to use Emerald's knowledge of plants.}

dare to be one of us girl
facing the android’s conundrum
I felt like I should just cry
but nothing happens every time
I take one on the chin

[/center][/justify]

Last Edit: Feb 13, 2013 0:40:50 GMT -5 by Nofo

And you think you see me.

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.;gotta come back down.; TSH {vs.} EIM Feb 13, 2013 0:37:37 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Feb 13, 2013 0:37:37 GMT -5

[bg=222222][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style,width: 500px]

a constellation of tears on your lashes
burn everything you love then burn the ashes
in the end, everything collides
my childhood spat back out
the monster that you see

OOPS ANOTHER FILLER

AHA THAT'S A NICE PEDESTAL YOU'RE ON, DISTRICT NINE

HOW ABOUT I PUSH YOU OFF OF IT

THAT GIRL RATCHET

OH HEY EZRA

WOW YOUR ALLIANCE ARE DOUCHES MAN

PEACE, BRAH

OM NOM PLANTS

WAIT DID I JUST KILL SOMEONE ELSE

WAIT

DID I JUST

KILL SOMEONE ELSE

DAMMIT.

[River uses Emerald Shore's plant knowledge to collect 2 bundles of edible plants. She also uses First Aid for -3 damage]

my songs know what you did in the dark
so light 'em up, up, up, light 'em up, up, up
light 'em up, up, up, i'm on fire
so light 'em up, up, up, light 'em up, up, up
light 'em up, up, up, i'm on fire in the dark, woah

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Last Edit: Feb 13, 2013 0:38:08 GMT -5 by Deleted

School is the bane of my life
Career Tribute

[M:9285]

579 POSTS
last seen Mar 22, 2013 11:41:07 GMT -5

.;gotta come back down.; TSH {vs.} EIM Feb 13, 2013 0:46:23 GMT -5

Quote

Post by School is the bane of my life on Feb 13, 2013 0:46:23 GMT -5

Man these girls from District 1 and 4
Thanks for the jug
Peace be with you
But trust man
Cassius help me!

Another filler because you know...

( Ezra collects jug, flees and uses - 3 with his first aid )

meg.
Tribute

[M:-1850]

398 POSTS
last seen Sept 27, 2023 2:37:22 GMT -5

.;gotta come back down.; TSH {vs.} EIM Feb 23, 2013 22:17:01 GMT -5

Quote

Post by meg. on Feb 23, 2013 22:17:01 GMT -5

MEELA AHLI BIRDBROOK.

[/color][/font][/i][/right]

The Final Earthly Experience of Meela Birdbrook: Part I.

[/color][/font]Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves[/color]
And Immortality. [/right][/tt]

You don’t notice your world turn to a thousand shades of green-grey. It just is, in the same way that you don’t notice the flowers you see every day wither until they are dead. It’s a colour that you see only on very cold mornings, and in dreams: certainly not a colour that belongs to this tropical heat. You realize, now, that it does not seem so hot anymore, nor as sticky. You realize, now, that you are dying, something I have seen coming for a long time. You realize, now, that you always have been. It was not, in the end, your sister that I was coming for but you. I have been waiting for you all my life, Meela, and that certainly is a long time.

I am knelt by your side, grasping your hand when you realize that you are on the floor. From here, suddenly you value the beauty of your surrounds; the white flowers creeping along the sides of dainty tree, the carpet of grass thicker and healthier than you’ve ever seen it. You’ve been so worried for the last couple of days, you haven’t had the time to really look at the last place you will ever see. You have had a chance to appreciate the how foreign your surrounds are until now. You’ve been too concerned for your safety, but now, I hold you. Finally, you are my possession. Finally, you are safe.

When you see me, you greet me like an old friend. “Hello,” you say, a slightly coy smile on your face. There are not many who greet me in a friendly manner. You have no comprehension of what is going on around you - whether the fighting rages on, whether Ivy is safe. There is still a small flame of hope for her flickering inside of you, but as the warm ocean of weariness floods your body, it will not take much for it to be extinguished.

I would have liked for you to have been waiting for me when I appeared, but then I did arrive earlier than I usually do. I wanted to be there to support you, because sometimes, leaving is not easy. It is not easy to come into your world or to get out of it, and from what I gather there is not much that is easy in between. Like all good business people, I like to make my job as easy on the clients as I possibly can. But with you, business had mixed with pleasure in a way that is almost dangerous. It is lucky that I cannot get fired, I guess.

A conversation is spoken in the eye contact we hold. I like the way that you, the girl who has to argue every point, silently – no, gladly - accepts that it is my time now. Your blood pulses out of you, and I have no effect on its flow. It is a much more intrinsic part of you over which I hold sway.

As I hold out a hand to you, my fingers shake slightly. I think it is with anticipation, though I have not felt emotions like that since I was very young. What will you think of me, Meela? Will you like me as much as I like you?

I think this may be a record. I have guided two hundred and three billion humans towards their next step, and I have never cared what they have thought of me. You truly are an anomaly.

But you do not take my outstretched fingers, though you smile at them. You are not ready to come quite yet.

[/SIZE][/color][/font][/justify]

We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too,[/color]
For his civility. [/right][/tt]

{Dickinson, Emily. 'Because I could not stop for Death' Poems: Series 1 (1890)}
{Palate}

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.;gotta come back down.; TSH {vs.} EIM

Post by Nofo on Feb 9, 2013 13:34:39 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Feb 9, 2013 19:28:32 GMT -5

Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on Feb 9, 2013 19:48:50 GMT -5

Post by meg. on Feb 9, 2013 19:49:05 GMT -5

Post by School is the bane of my life on Feb 9, 2013 23:18:50 GMT -5

Post by Nofo on Feb 9, 2013 23:38:37 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Feb 9, 2013 23:54:04 GMT -5

Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on Feb 13, 2013 0:13:08 GMT -5

Post by School is the bane of my life on Feb 13, 2013 0:19:49 GMT -5

Post by Nofo on Feb 13, 2013 0:32:22 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Feb 13, 2013 0:37:37 GMT -5

Post by School is the bane of my life on Feb 13, 2013 0:46:23 GMT -5

Post by meg. on Feb 23, 2013 22:17:01 GMT -5