Don't Tell Me {Aya/Blitz}

charade
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Thinking

Don't Tell Me {Aya/Blitz} Jan 6, 2013 0:42:45 GMT -5

Post by charade on Jan 6, 2013 0:42:45 GMT -5

Cynthia"Cindy Grant

It was not uncommon for parties to be thrown in the foliage within district seven's boundaries, bonfires and the like. Cynthia made it a point to make it out to every single one she heard about to gossip, hob nob and otherwise get annoyed with stupidity. though lately, people had been finding ever more creative ways of pissing her off. All the get togethers she had attended post games did nothing but depress her. It was not something she was keen to admit, but the constant questions about how she must feel about her half-brothers death were starting to get to her.

But she didn't care. Right?

Excusing herself from the throng of people, Cynthia made her way to the outskirts of the bonfire and sat on a stump, taking out a cig to soothe her nerves. Was this how it was going to be until the next games started? Was there really nothing else they could ask her about? There had been plenty of other topics to discuss inside the district before Curtis went and got himself killed. And if she had to hear about him or Alaska Putely one more time, she was going to put her smoke out in someones eye.

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle

gm bourgeois decadence [aya]
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"GUNNERRRRR~"

Don't Tell Me {Aya/Blitz} Jan 6, 2013 1:05:24 GMT -5

Post by gm bourgeois decadence [aya] on Jan 6, 2013 1:05:24 GMT -5

Sympathy's better
than having to tell you the truth
that you are the patron saint
of lost causes

Owen Rook —

[/i][/color]

Much more than his late older siblings, Owen Rook had the opportunity to explore a social life of some degree. True, he did not frequent the late night parties that cropped up every now and then on the outskirts of the district — but even the occasional appearance made him a much bigger socialite than Phoebe — than Alexander the second — who'd spent her entire life cooped up in the sawmill. Owen had refused to shackle himself to work like she'd done, and under the scrutiny of the public eye some three years ago, as the 59th Hunger Games wrapped up, there hadn't been much choice to move himself and move the kids into a group home, where they would at least receive a minimal amount of food.

But the parties were for a good time, and dwelling on their splintered family's situation was never conducive to that, so Owen forced himself to shake the thoughts from his head. There would be plenty of time left for worrying when he woke up in the morning, head already throbbing.

At the outskirts of the bonfire, he spied the feminine silhouette of a figure shrouded in smoke, blatantly ignoring the rest of the attendees. His curiosity — or perhaps his temporary boldness — getting the better of him, he sauntered over to the girl. Gesturing at the smoke in her hand, he cleared his throat and asked, "You sharing?"

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certified kindergartener
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charade
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Thinking

Don't Tell Me {Aya/Blitz} Jan 6, 2013 1:25:22 GMT -5

Post by charade on Jan 6, 2013 1:25:22 GMT -5

Cynthia "Cindy" Grant

"You sharing?" Cynthia arched an eyebrow at the blond boy in front of her and blew a puff of smoke into his face. "Depends. You the kind of person that asks stupid questions?" Feigning disinterest, she took another drag before getting one for the boy and holding it out with two manicured fingers. "As far as parties go, I've been to better. Way. Better." She watched him for a moment, trying to place his face to a name, but after a moment's silence she found herself unable to. He was likely just another party hound cruising for whatever too his fancy. All was quiet but for the crackling of the bonfire several feet away and the occasional drunken laugh or thump. "You look kind of familiar. Have I undressed you before?" She asked this with a lopsided grin, but to tell the truth, she was too bored out of her mind to find anything humorous.

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle

gm bourgeois decadence [aya]
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last seen May 27, 2024 11:51:49 GMT -5

"GUNNERRRRR~"

Don't Tell Me {Aya/Blitz} Jan 6, 2013 1:50:59 GMT -5

Post by gm bourgeois decadence [aya] on Jan 6, 2013 1:50:59 GMT -5

Sympathy's better
than having to tell you the truth
that you are the patron saint
of lost causes

Owen Rook —

[/i][/color]

As a rule, the members of the Hood family — Cornwall family, Rook family, whatever the handful of bastard children were collectivized as — did not ask questions unless they were of the utmost importance. It had always been easier that way, especially when there had been so many years buried under secrets, or under questions that nobody had answers for. "'Course not." He took a drag from her smoke, holding it for a moment before exhaling. It wasn't a habit that Owen could afford on his own, but bumming smokes off of his fellow lumberjacks was one of the perks of his part-time job at the mill Alexander had spent her every waking hour at.

The girl said something about the awfulness of the party — which, admittedly, was nowhere near the greatest Owen had ever been to — but he couldn't muster more than a noncommittal shrug in response to the smalltalk. When she remarked that he looked familiar, followed up by a question as to whether she'd ever undressed him, the Rook boy let out a snort. "Not that I can remember," he chuckled, although he knew for a fact that she hadn't, even though his vision was too doubled to get a good look at her. "Nah, you probably remember me from a few years ago. Top Eight family interviews they do for the Games and all that." He sighed, afraid that he'd doomed the conversation to something more depressing than its initial trajectory indicated.

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certified kindergartener
stranded in "beach" "city"
leader of the crystal gems

charade
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Thinking

Don't Tell Me {Aya/Blitz} Jan 6, 2013 2:49:04 GMT -5

Post by charade on Jan 6, 2013 2:49:04 GMT -5

Cynthia "Cindy" Grant

Top eight interviews? Cynthia paused and straightened up to get a better look at the boy. Honey blond, bordering brown. Sharp eyes. He would have had to have been a bit younger during his interview, whenever it had been." Oh yeah. That's gotta be it. You look a lot like...uh. That one tribute." She took another drag on her cigarette before putting it out on her makeshift seat."I'm Cynthia Grant by the way. I know a little about those interviews from experience." She stretched a little, rotating her shoulder blades before lightly placing her hands on the stump. "What did you say your name was?"

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle

gm bourgeois decadence [aya]
Administrator

6,257 POSTS
last seen May 27, 2024 11:51:49 GMT -5

"GUNNERRRRR~"

Don't Tell Me {Aya/Blitz} Jan 6, 2013 12:03:11 GMT -5

Post by gm bourgeois decadence [aya] on Jan 6, 2013 12:03:11 GMT -5

Sympathy's better
than having to tell you the truth
that you are the patron saint
of lost causes

Owen Rook —

[/i][/color]

That one tribute. Three years later, he supposed that was really the most left in general knowledge of Alexander Hood, mark II. She was that one tribute and little else. "Do I, now?" he remarked. "Never really thought Alexander and I looked much alike, though I guess he was only my half-brother." It was true; when she'd been reaped, the pair stood about the same size, but Owen had grown half a foot since. His pointed chin was in sharp contrast to his sibling's squared-off jaw, and while they shared the same striking blue eyes, his were much closer together than hers had been.

So this was Cynthia Grant — sister of the past year's tribute. "Yeah, from what I can remember they weren't exactly plesant. I'm Owen," he told her. For emphasis, he added, "Owen Rook." Since the 59th Games, people had developed the habit of assuming all of Alexander's siblings shared the surname Hood, when in reality, that was paired with the different set of paternal DNA each child received. He scratched his chin, thinking, but couldn't come up with anything else to say.

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{characters}

certified kindergartener
stranded in "beach" "city"
leader of the crystal gems

charade
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last seen May 1, 2024 12:08:12 GMT -5

Thinking

Don't Tell Me {Aya/Blitz} Jan 6, 2013 18:58:55 GMT -5

Post by charade on Jan 6, 2013 18:58:55 GMT -5

Cynthia "Cindy" Grant

She would have snorted into her drink if she had had one. That he was related to Alexander Hood in such a way was surprising, if not interesting. "Half-brother? Seems like there's a lot of that going around." She inspected a hand idly before looking back at him with a small smirk." Pleasure to meet you, though not as pleasurable as some meetings I've had." Now that the mystery of his name and face was out of the way she rather hoped that she'd be able to find out why he had approached her asking for a drag.

"What brings you out here tonight Owen? Looking for trouble?"