Imagine Dragons || [Train] || Arx

Spesh
Capitol Resident

1,143 POSTS
last seen Oct 22, 2023 19:21:42 GMT -5

being old af

Imagine Dragons || [Train] || Arx Jan 20, 2013 21:07:59 GMT -5

Post by Spesh on Jan 20, 2013 21:07:59 GMT -5

I’m gonna pop some tags
Only got twenty dollars in my pocket
I’m, I’m, I’m huntin’, lookin’ for a come up
This is f***ing awesome

It hit Will when the pot wore off.

He was going into the games. Well, he was going to die in the games. Either that or he was on a tribute train to the Capitol because he was awesome. Now, as compared to earlier, that seemed unlikely. He had such a conviction earlier, it was just ever so slightly ironic. Of course, Will was excited that the whole Capitol was going to see him and how awesome he was; he just loved being the center of attention. He didn't even mind that much that he'd be dead in a few days. He couldn't really do anything about that, so why bother?

At least the conditions before the games were great. The train he was on was beautifully furnished with mahogany tables and everything! There was great food, great clothing, and no drugs. Will had made a habit of checking his pockets every few minutes, hoping that he would find contraband somewhere in his dress clothes. Even when his escort suggested he change his clothes to something informal and comfortable, Will declined. He diid not want to let go of even the slightest chance of drugs, and he most certainly did not want the remove clothing that smelled of pot. He just sat there in the living room car, watching a reply of the reapings, every so often feeling around his clothes, hopeful despite all of his failed attempts.

Will really couldn't think much about anything of importance. He was somewhat upset, but at what? Was it the fact that his parent's didn't bother saying goodbye to him? Why anything? Will didn't know. All he could comment on were things like the train's temperature, how perfect it was. He wasn't angry about being reaped, he couldn't be. Who could he be mad at? Nobody. Only the world.

He had noticed Elodie Magpie in the same car as him, but didn't bother looking much. He was just focused on trying to find any drugs, some drugs, anything. Maybe she had some drugs. Will doubted it, she didn't seem like that much of a druggy. He took his pipe out and started tapping it on the table. Tap, tap. Tap, tap. Tap. Tap. Yet the noise annoyed him, made him angry. It reminded Will how short his life was, how short a time his heart would still be beating for.

He put the pipe down on the table in front of his seat and turned towards Melody; or was it Elodie? He didn't really care that much.

"Hey," he said, awkwardly, "I think we've slept... er, met each other before." Will reddened just ever so slightly, he didn't mean to be flirty.

But maybe Freud was onto something after all.

I’m gonna pop some tags
Only got twenty dollars in my pocket
I’m, I’m, I’m huntin’, lookin’ for a come up
This is f***ing awesome

ooc; probably gonna try first person next post. I don't know, third just feels too removed and not descriptive enough.
^^thanks for the awesome header Onyx

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Last Edit: Jan 30, 2013 12:44:34 GMT -5 by Spesh

matt colekay d9a [arx]
Retired Staff

2,439 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Jun 16, 2024 1:54:47 GMT -5

literally so gay, doing so many crimes

Imagine Dragons || [Train] || Arx Jan 21, 2013 22:40:50 GMT -5

Post by matt colekay d9a [arx] on Jan 21, 2013 22:40:50 GMT -5

`Elodie Mirielle Magpie~

Look at me. You may think you see
who I really am , but you'll never know me.
Every day it's as if I play a part.
Now I see if I wear a mask I can fool the world,
But I cannot fool my heart.

I'm all cried out. It's not that I don't want to cry or anything, it's just that I can't anymore. At least not today. But I'm not sure what will happen in the days to come when I am forced to teach myself how to kill someone and pranced around in all sorts of clothes (okay, I'm not really going to complain about that but still) and then lifted into an arena with a bunch of bloodthirsty monsters who all have this need for my blood to pool on the ground. The image starts to sink into my mind, tainting my every thought with it's brutality, until my only thoughts are those where I'm being stabbed to death or burned alive or my head chopped off. My stomach churns as the thoughts get progressively worse. I'm sitting in the train car, pretty much being forced to watch all of the other Reapings, the boy - William, I believe? - seems enthused by them. But all my mind is doing is placing each tribute into my head and showing me the multiple ways they all ~~could~~ will kill me. And I realize that the promise I made to come back will never actually happen. Like mother, like daughter, right?

Somehow I manage to force myself to my feet just as the replay of District 5 reaping begins to play on screen. But I don't want to watch. I already know what happened. And it's even worse to get the image in my head of the kid so close to me might be the one to cut me into pieces. My knees are weak but still I manage to make it back to my room to change. But it isn't my room like at home. There is no paint or paper or stars or brushes or anything that makes me feel safe. Instead everything feels foreign, alien, like maybe the bed sheets will leap up and bite me or the shoes might be plotting to squeeze my feet to death. But still I smiled. Because, although alien, it was very beautiful. Extravagant. The clothes, the jewelry, the tables, the perfume bottles, the bed, the lights, the mirrors - it was all so much more than I had ever seen in my life. And as I took it all in, running my hands across the bed sheets and stepping out of my shoes to feel the rug against my feet, I realized that there was more than one kind of beauty. Home had some. And so did the Capitol. The escort said that I was allowed everything in the room. All of it was mine. I threw myself on the bed with a giggle, a smile breaking across my face. I have never slept in a bed so comfortable or soft or beautiful in my whole life. ~~And I have slept in about every bed in all of District 5.~~ I sigh only when the ceiling above me is not the painted one I'm used to. I lie in the bed for a few minutes, only enough to let the past events of the day to sink in before I undress and put on new clothes. When the paintbrush drops to the floor, I stoop to pick it up before sliding it behind my ear, relishing the feeling it gives me. It gives me meaning. A purpose. The power to create.

I walk back to the train car, not bothering to put on any shoes, carrying a bottle of sparkly purple nail polish in the hopes that I will have time to paint my fingers and toes in the prettiest shade of purple I have ever seen before my stylist begins to dress me however she likes. With the earlier feelings of despair and fear of death gone, (at least thrown into the back of my mind) I skip back into the room and plop down in a seat, kicking my feet over the side of the chair before untwisting the bottle of nail polish and beginning to paint my fingers. I smile as the paint dries almost instantly and the sparkles meet my eyes. I have just begun to paint my toes when I'm startled out of my concentration. "Hey." I look up, almost answering before he goes on. "I think we've slept... er, met each other before." I watch as a subtle blush crosses his face and I wonder if he really thinks he may have slept with me or if he is just a shy boy with absolutely no girl experience what-so-ever. The truth is, with his looks, either way, I'm so game. I look away from him, smiling in spite of myself before sitting up in my chair, crossing my legs in front of me, deciding how exactly I want to play this. "Oh, yes. I remember you. Not so impressive as I remember. Not very big." I smirk and glance just below is waist before smiling again, laughing. "But," I say, tossing the nail polish in his direction. "If you were to finish painting my toenails with those pretty little hands of yours, I might just have a different recollection of our last encounter."

Boys. They are the only fun in this world.

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I am now in a world where I have
to hide my heart and what I believe in,
But somehow I will show the world
what's inside my heart
And be loved for who I am.

"I run on the road, long before I dance under the lights."

Spesh
Capitol Resident

1,143 POSTS
last seen Oct 22, 2023 19:21:42 GMT -5

being old af

Imagine Dragons || [Train] || Arx Jan 22, 2013 0:31:53 GMT -5

Post by Spesh on Jan 22, 2013 0:31:53 GMT -5

Drop it to the floor, make that ass shake
Whoa, make the ground move, that's an assquake
Built a house up on that ass, that's an ass state
Roll my weed on it, that's an ass tray

Not being able to find any drugs in my clothes is so damn frustrating. I swear my mom takes out all of the drugs every time I come home. It's like she wants me to be unhappy. Takes them out of my fucking clothes and hides them, or throws them out, or something. Why can't she just see that I'm me? She wants me to be something else, something without drugs. I wonder how she's feeling now. She probably took some of them. I wouldn't put it past her. Weren't the drugs - probably left on the dining room table, no doubt, - just going to become a coping mechanism for my mom. Like they were for me... No. No they weren't. I didn't do drugs because of anything but choice. Just the thought of that, it was such bullshit. I did them because it made me, well, me.

But damn do I wish I had some right now. Just the thought brings me back to just a few days ago. I was on the streets of District Five, the same pipe in hand. Except the pipe was full. What wouldn't I do for just one more full pipe? Well, I wouldn't give someone a blow job... and I wouldn't get castrated. Anything else is really fair game. I'd really give up every single other drug, those were never my favorites, just for another smoke of pot. Any other druggie knows that's some serious shit to say, and I mean it. If Elodie had drugs on her, I'd drop any sexual advances and just go straight for the drugs. Somehow, I doubt it. She never seemed like a druggy to me, just a whore.

And she was good at what she did.

I can't quite remember whether it's Elodie or her not-actual twin Celeste who stole things from other people. Maybe it's both. One thing I know Elodie steals is virginity. She's up in the beds of everyone, doing work. I'm not sure if she took anything from me - and I swear my virginity was already taken at that point - I have yet to notice. It's almost like she's too sneaky, like it's an art form. I can't help but admire how street smart she is. Of course, that is overshadowed by my male instincts. Then I realize all this want for drugs has prevented me from seeing a good three feet in front of me. Alcohol! Alcohol galore! I kick the closet open and take a gulp out of the first bottle I grab. Brandy. Its strength isn't close to that or the bootleg stuff in District Five. But hell, it's better than nothing.

Right as I'm going to ask Elodie if she wants any, she crosses her legs - bummer - and retorts, "Oh, yes. I remember you. Not so impressive as I remember. Not very big." Well, I don't exactly think that's true, as of the last time I checked, which was about, well, not too long ago. I don't know who she's been sleeping with, but she's either lying or I seriously am unaware of size. I notice that she glances below my belt, she wants my D. But what if I really am not exactly impressive?

Welp, that would suck.

I could prove I'm not, and I'm just about to start unzipping as she throws her open nail polish bottle at me, "But, if you were to finish painting my toenails with those pretty little hands of yours, I might just have a different recollection of our last encounter." And then her stupid nail polish splatters right on my chest. How am I supposed to get into her pants now? My only obvious option is gone.

Come on, Will, think. You weren't born yesterday. I take another swig from my bottle and still feel absolutely nothing. Why wouldn't the Capitol want to give us good alcohol? That was so disrespectful of my wishes, really. Then it hits me. I let go of the bottle and swipe some polish off my suit before rolling somewhat awkwardly over my chair's arms onto Elodie's lap. I smile, showing off my fairly pearly whites, "Just a second, where are toes again?" I question despite, obviously, knowing the answer. And my hand goes on a literal search for her toes. It's path starts on her arm and goes down to her hand and back up again, then down to her other arm. Somehow, through all of this, I manage to keep a straight face. Right when I'm about to run out of nail polish on my hand, my hand finds its way to Elodie's chest.

Then I kiss her.

When we stop kissing I move my hand and give a wry smile, "I never was the best with body parts. You did say paint your boobs, right?" I laugh at my joke, "I thought that was a pretty weird request, but I'm not one to question it. You didn't mean 'toenails' when you said boobs, right?" My smile grows. Of course I'm bullshitting. Elodie must knows I'm bullshitting. What I care about is if she actually cares.

Maybe that wasn't my best move ever...

But it will probably work.

Now we out in Paris, yeah I'm Perriering
White girls politicking, that's that Sarah Palin
Gettin' high, Californicating
I give her that D, cause that's where I was born and raised in

ooc;
^^thanks for the awesome header Onyx

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Last Edit: Jan 27, 2013 23:39:19 GMT -5 by Spesh