broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz}

florentine, d4b ❁
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broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz} Jul 3, 2013 4:51:14 GMT -5

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Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on Jul 3, 2013 4:51:14 GMT -5

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sierra birdbrook

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there's an old voice in my head that's holding me back
well tell her that i miss our little talks
soon it will be over, buried with our
p a s t

As far as adventures go, this one hasn't disappointed. When they told me the Capitol was glorious, so many years ago, I'd imagined a plethora of beautiful buildings, enchanting people and fine foods. Despite my vivid daydreams, reality brought with it a magic that my own childish mind never suspected. (From the height of four and a half feet, everything seems grand.) Here, cheeks are flushed with delight and eyelashes flutter, desperate not to miss a single moment. I wish I could suspend every single clock for long enough to capture this fine world, but for now I am stuck with a steadfast amount of time, quickly running out. For each marvel I am more than grateful - I have chosen this fate over dying slowly in my own bed, and enjoy enjoy it I must. The others frown, and I pity them.

When I think of the twenty-two others that will share my fate, my smile falters and reality weighs heavily upon my shoulders. This is not a joy ride for everyone, I know. In truth, experience has shown that each soul will die bathed in tears, blood or insanity. I promise Meela I will smile when they bring me to her; not because I welcome death, but because the form it takes is my choice. If only the others understood this concept as well, perhaps they too would avert their fearful eyes from the ground and let themselves see the sky. The training room today was taught with concentration. Each step carried questions: would this be enough? Could another moment at the station let them live? Would more effort ensure victory? Sadness bubbled in my bones, then, for nobody deserves such taunting, least of all from the depths of their own minds.

Naturally, I am quiet. The rare occasions in which I keep company usually leave me with little to say other than the facts that pour from my lips when I am nervous. This morning, I made myself a promise that at lunch I would test my own bravery. The other tributes - every one of them taller and stronger than I - sit, some talking amicably, but none looking particularly pleased. "If it wasn't for cell death in the embryonic stage of development, humans would have webbed fingers," I blurt, and then clamp my hands over my mouth with surprising force. A couple of tributes look up, death a touchy word around these parts.

It takes me a long moment to recollect myself. Finally, I climb up onto the table, regain my balance, and promise myself that I can do it. "Hi... everybody," I say, wondering how the girl who clambered fearlessly into the highest branches of a tree despite my brittle bones could quiver so easily under the gaze of her fellow tributes. One of these people will bring me my death. "My name is Sierra, and I think, if you want, maybe... we could just take a moment to wish?" I stumble on my own words, biting furiously at my fingernails and ever so aware of my tiny posture. Just the other day at reaping, a Peacekeeper tried to drag me away from the pools before realising that I was over the age of twelve."My sister- she was in the Games last year, and the last thing she told me was that she should have asked for a bigger wish. I hold out my notepad, my pen, and the empty jar labelled 'wishes'. "I'd like it very much if you could all make one - before we go into the arena, I want to know that everyone is hoping for something." I blink, surprised at myself, and jump quickly down from the table. I smile weakly, half-hoping that everyone ignores my sudden intrusion.

we used to play outside we we were young
and full of life and full of love
some days i feel like i am wrong when i am right
your mind is playing tricks on you my
d e a r

words by clover.
plot by clover and meg.
template by clover.
faceclaim is kathryn prescott.

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cass
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broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz} Jul 3, 2013 7:46:00 GMT -5

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Post by cass on Jul 3, 2013 7:46:00 GMT -5

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Looking out from underneath,
Fractured moonlight on the sea
Reflections still look the same to me,
As before I went under.
And it's peaceful in the deep,

When you look up and into the brilliant sky that covers the entire universe, you see stars. You see those tiny little specks of light that seem to cover every inch of every league of that dark gloominess. And in each inch you will find one of those brilliant, shiny balls of light. It was why Opal liked looking at the sky. When she turned her brown eyes upwards she was struck by the beauty of world that no one could touch. It was pristine and free; it was a place where she could imagine there was no death, but only life. Where pain was noon- existent and where children like herself were not thrown into an arena to kill each other. It was basically, in her mind, a world that could and would never exist. It was the perfect place. Perfect was simply a word. Nothing was and nothing would ever be perfect. If there was a perfection out there everyone would try to seek it, instead people opt for the next best, naming would constitutes to the closest match they can find. They were dreamers. And Opal, sadly, was a realist – well in her own terms she was. Dreaming was a gift and although she could spend hours propped back star at the stars, thinking of a million different wishes and dreams she was always drawn back to reality. She never tried to defeat the truth, she never tried to stop it.

The world she wanted was only in fairy tales and dreams; it would never be placed before her. Maybe death would bring that final gift to me. Maybe. That was a true possibility; no one knew what happened when you died. What was in the world after this? was there anything there? Who knew? No one did. Opal still clung to the desperate possibility that maybe she would not have to find out in the trials to come. But that was the dreamer talker.

There are a thousand ways to answer the question that is thrown at all of the people sitting in the dining hall. There are a thousand different ways of ignoring it and moving on with all our lives. Opal could simply have bent her head back down and turned back towards the mega bit of food she had gathered. She could have snorted or laughed. She could have teased or bullied the little girl that stood on the table, asking for all the tributes around her to pledge her their wishes. But something forced Opal to stand up and something forced her to grasp a piece of paper and a pen. There was something appealing to the idea of spilling your biggest wish on a piece of paper. Maybe it was something to do with the fact that it would make it seem more like reality, as though it wasn’t just an idea – just a dream floating around in your head. Putting it into words made it real and that was what Opal wanted to do. She wanted to make her dream into something she could count on being there, not just a faded memory or a spare of the moment demand. Something real. Something she knew that would still exist and be true to her in two years or two days’ time.

For a few hesitant moments she stared blankly at the tiny piece of paper before her. What could she write? There were a billion different things to wish for. What was the most important? The seconds ticked by and she stared, unable to steer her and onto a direct path. Then slowly she leaned forward and touched pen to paper. The letters spilt onto the paper. She signed her name on the end, messily. Then she placed it down and looked at it. Carefully she folded it up; with a small smile she reached over and gave it to Sierra.

On that little piece of paper was one word. Life.

Without that one wish she could make no more. Without that one wish she could not dream and dreaming meant never going home. It was life she wished for, without life there was nothing.

Cathedral, where you cannot breathe,
No need to pray, no need to speak
Now I am under, Oh.
And it's breaking over me,
A thousand miles onto the sea bed,

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umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]
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— 🥀 —

broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz} Jul 3, 2013 12:01:36 GMT -5

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Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Jul 3, 2013 12:01:36 GMT -5

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I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones
enough to make my system blow
welcome to the new age, to the new age
welcome to the new age, to the new age
whoa, whoa, I'm radioactive, radioactive

Since arriving in the Capitol, I had eaten at least an entire tree's worth of oranges, and still, my quick fingers were were working towards peeling another. I glanced around myself, first at Opal, who was listening to Cleo speak, then at Locust who was as well- not nearly as interested in what she had to say- and then finally to Cleo. Surely by now, she should have noticed the amount of the orange citrus fruit I was consuming, but she was the type of person to comment on thing, appropriate or not, so I guessed she hadn't. Pulling a wedge apart from it's brothers and sister, I tossed it in my mouth, and nudged Cleo as I stared at the small girl from twelve I had met earlier that day. Sierra.

At first, I hadn't known what to think, but eventually one thing was certain, I was going to protect her. At all costs. She was too weak to do this alone, and I had an over-whelming desire to take care of her. I made it a point to talk to my allies about it later, but right now she was standing atop a marble table (Something I wasn't comfortable with her doing, honestly,) and she was talking, her voice like that of a mere child was chirping into the crowd of cold and heartless people, one of whom was going to live. One of whom wouldn't share my fate.

Wishes weren't real. Anyone could sit there and say they wanted something, but it never helped them to get it. And even when they fought for it, someone else was always luckier, bigger, faster stronger, better. Still, I listened as if enchanted by her words. She held a jar in her hand, pleading for people to write their wishes down and give them to her. A sore pain thumped with my heart. I no longer had wishes and dreams. The cold world had stolen them from me in the middle the night a long time ago. I suddenly became interested in my orange again. What was I going to do, tell her no? I couldn't. First Opal stood and marched over to the girl, and I quickly followed in her footsteps. Whenever I reached the place in which she stood, I offered a slight smile.

I had hoped that the pen would begin writing for me, but it was refusing to until I gave it something to go off of. Writing tiny, invisible words in the air with it's point, I desperately tried to think of something- anything. Home. I wanted home. I wanted my family. But they didn't seem like the type of wish she wanted. Everyone here wanted those things. Finally, an idea popped into my head, and I didn't waste time scribbling it down and pushing it into the jar Sierra held out for me. Another smile, then I turned and walked away.

"A second chance." I wondered if she would know which one was mine.

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Credit to Cass for the table! <3

^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

Verbal, Lord of The Dreadfort
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Knowledge of trees is treason.

broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz} Jul 3, 2013 13:47:25 GMT -5

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Post by Verbal, Lord of The Dreadfort on Jul 3, 2013 13:47:25 GMT -5

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"They tell you all your dreams can come true, but they forget to mention nightmares are dreams too."

For a group of people who would almost all certainly be dead by the time the week after next was out, they were a surprisingly talkative lot.

My mind was an intricate web of ever forming connections, so for the most part I was content to let others do the talking while I simply stared off into space and hoped slitting their throats would be someone easier for my lack of socialization. I had never had a friend before, but I couldn't be friends with these people, and they couldn't be friends with me. That was hard. Looking at the faces around the table, one could almost mistake it for a school cafeteria. A bunch of teenagers chatting genially (perhaps the imminence of our own impending doom was enough to make people a bit more affable, as, as far as I could tell, everyone was getting along,) enjoying their break before work was to begin anew.

Yeah, work towards killing one another.

Why was I so preoccupied with death? No one else seemed to be, at least as far as I could see, why deny myself a good time with the rest of my compatriots, it could be the last opportunity of mine to even have good time. What did it matter if we would all be dead soon? I could save the distrust and the killer instinct for the arena, not the lunchroom.

But my reveries never last, do they? They never seem to end of their own volition, but rather are usually interrupted by some varied source of, well... interference.

Although this time, I couldn't quite say the interruption was what I was expecting.

A small girl who looked about half my size but who must have still been older than me, who I thought recognized as one of the District Twelve tributes (who's face looked eerily familiar...) jumped up onto the marble table we all sat eating our portions at and gave what amounts to one of the most awkward and at the same time, oddly courageous speeches I've ever seen given. She was asking us for our wishes.

A wish? What good did wishing do anyone? When faced with the prospect of my imminent death, wishing and hoping and dreaming didn't really seem to come into the equation.

But something about the oddity of the speech, how this girl went out on a limb to give it to us, for whatever reason, left my cold, ice encrusted heart strangely warm. I didn't like it when I got like this, as I always seemed to make stupid mistakes when I felt like this.

Still, a request was made, and logically, I figured at least someone should humor it.

Apparently I wasn't the only one who thought so, as the girl from one and the boy from three seemed to be me to the punch. Well, better late than never.

After a few moments, they each seemed to scrabble something short and curt on their papers and then gave the little pieces of paper back to the girl from Twelve.

I got up from my seat, sauntered over to the girl, took a piece of paper and a writing utensil, and made my way back to my seat.

I stared at the paper for a while, not knowing what to wish for, not remembering if there was ever a time when I had even made a wish. But I could feel the others' eyes on me, and I began to feel uncomfortable.

After a time, I decided to settle on the one thing I could think of, the one thing I had never really had.

"A friend." I sprawled across the paper messily.

I thought for a moment about signing the paper, as a means of distinguishing it from the others, so that she would know that it was from me, but another, better thought of how to do that occurred to me.

I remembered. Sierra. Sierra Birdbrook was her name.

My eyes, for a fleeting moment, were drawn to the ring appropriately on my right ring finger, the red crest engraved on it.

"A mockingbird." My sister's voice rang through my head involuntarily.

My gaze dropped from the trinket and returned to my stiff piece of paper. I began to crease it and fold it and make all the proper alignments wordlessly. At length I was finished.

"It looked like a bird. Not a mockingbird though, she wasn't a mockingbird, I was the mockingbird, it would seem. I didn't know what kind of bird I had created, if any, but then again, I didn't know what kind of bird Miss Birdbrook was either, so I simply shrugged and decided it was appropriate enough.

Then I walked over to the girl and her jar and simply placed the small figurine inside of it. My eyes met hers for a single moment, and then I walked calmly back to my seat. My mind had trailed of once more.

I wondered if they would be serving dessert today...

...unlikely.

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Credit to Stare

Credit for both Gaff and Linus' tribute token designs and templates goes exclusively to the wonderful Cass!

"God creates dinosaurs, God destroys dinosaurs, God creates man, man destroys God, man creates dinosaurs..."

Your face. My size twenty-four boot.

sbeeg
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broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz} Jul 3, 2013 16:47:23 GMT -5

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Post by sbeeg on Jul 3, 2013 16:47:23 GMT -5

Motel Hunt

Lunch had to be Motel's favorite time of day in the training center. Sure tossing around spears was a ton of fun and so was scaring the trainers when you decide to launch a sword across the gym, but nothing could overshadow food. Well, maybe a slip of a girl from twelve could. After blurting out a bunch of science words the boy didn't understand, she stood up on the table and offered them all her notebook and a pen.

Free wishes? Hell yeah! Jumping back from the table, still chewing a piece of steak, Motel fell in line behind the District One girl his mind racing with the possibilities. Wish for a car! Wish for more steak! Chewing on his bottom lip, Motel looked over the nearby tribute's shoulders. Their wishes were a lot more sentimental and, well, confusing. Life? You already had life! You had it right now! A second chance? At what? Motel would like a second chance at that steak, but he didn't think that's what the boy meant. Peeking over another's shoulder he saw "a friend" scrawled across their paper. Friends were easy to come by, why would he need to wish for one?

Honestly, this group of tributes were on a different wavelength. They had a chance at a free wish and they were just throwing them away! Motel snatched up the pencil and paper and after pausing a moment, he pressed the lead down and scratched out his wish.

"Wings"

Hell fucking yes. Motel Hunt knew how to spend a wish- on some serious life changing shit.

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broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz} Jul 3, 2013 22:06:37 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Jul 3, 2013 22:06:37 GMT -5

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Xavier Gregory

[bg=1F1812][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,520,true][atrb=style,width: 520px; padding: 10px; border:10px solid #1A191C;] The Capitol was everything that Xavier wasn't; loud rambunctious, over the top, and just plain overdone. Xavier, is quiet, soft spoken, down to earth, though some say that will be his disadvantage but he disagrees. On the contrary he believes that his small demeanor will be his advantage as the other huge personalities, like that abrasive Career freak from 2, Lyon. I'm surprised he hasn't roared yet. He seems like the type of Career who will do that. he thought to himself as he sat in the common dining hall. Propped up against the wall, leaning on two chairs Xavier scanned the room trying to get a grip on the year's crop of tributes. He enjoyed this as it allowed him to remain the brooding wallflower that he loves to work and he doesn't have to socialize during the dinner time. As he watched the others he realized that he's going to miss the Capitol, if only for the material things. Such as the comfort of the bed, the decadent and rich foods like the duck and grapefruit stew.

This struck him as he thought he was never going to get attached to such a place like this; however he still misses home. His misses the dirt how soft and tangible it was, as well as the farm and the ifferent aromas they give off. The sweetness form the different produce and the freshness from the rain gave to everything. However he misses the stars most of all. They were his nightly reminder that everything was going to be ok, that there is another day just around the corner. The stars were his beacon of hope, and now they are gone. The lights from the Capitol screens are too harsh for the true light to shine. That's why he chose the bracelet as his token. The little beads remind him of the stars, and he's actually wearing them.

His thoughts were disrupted when the girl from District 12 came about. She was carrying a jar with the label wishes on them, she was collecting, literally wishes to carry around with her in the Arena. Xavier found this to peculiar. Especially since that she's standing on top of on of the tables. “My name is Sierra and I think, if you want, maybe... we could just take a moment to wish?” Why, he wondered why would she do that? and even though he missed her explanation, that thought was answered, as if she was reading his mind. “I'd like you all to make one – before we go into the arena, I want to know that everyone is hoping for something.” And she dumped down.

This inspired Xavier to actually wish, to actually hope for something; and strutted up to Sierra. Grabbing a piece of paper that was lying there, he scribbled his last hope and final dream.

Home

Narration ~ 909B8B
Thoughts ~ A0AA9F
Speech ~ C3B7A7
Others ~ B49C92
Lyrics/Headers ~BDAFA2

Dancin
Career Tribute

[M:-2700]

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bitch I might be.

broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz} Jul 3, 2013 23:31:55 GMT -5

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Post by Dancin on Jul 3, 2013 23:31:55 GMT -5

AKINA ANTHEA HOOPER

Like a bird on the wire,
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.

It would be the simpler thing to scoff. To brush off the request for wishes as childish and frivolous and silly. It would be easier. As the empty jar is set in front of the tributes, Sierra Birdbrook looking expectant, it stirs something in Akina's chest. It's a sort of dry ache, because Akina knows what she wishes for of course she does, it's the same thing she's been wishing for since she could understand longing.

It's the comment about cells that gets Akina's attention right off the bat. It's true of course, Akina read about it at some point or another. Akina supposes that Sierra takes some comfort in the stability and beauty of science, much like herself. It's easier to organize the chaos in her consciousness when the law of conservation of energy never changes. It's a fixed point in the swirling of thoughts.

It would be easier to just remain in the corner of the dining hall, picking at a soft white roll and staring at the table, but things have never been easy for Akina, and anyways if they were she would become incredibly bored. So she quietly gets up from her seat and joins the rest of the tributes. Her writing is small and horribly messy, but in the center of the square of paper the words make it quiet in my head are clearly legible. It feels like a crime to write it down, to admit what Akina knows people will label as crazy. It also feels marvelous, like peeling off her skin and putting new, clean skin on instead. Walking away a new person. It's lovely and terrible and Akina wouldn't trade it for the world.

Like a worm on a hook,
Like a knight from some old fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee.
If I, if I have been unkind,
I hope that you can just let it go by.
If I, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you.

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Python
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broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz} Jul 3, 2013 23:55:44 GMT -5

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Post by Python on Jul 3, 2013 23:55:44 GMT -5

Locust could not count her wishes.

For how long had she craved the adoration Priscilla and her fellow careers received? For how long had they basked in glory and praise while she dwelled in the darkness waiting for someone to recognize her talents as clever techniques rather than tricks?

How long have I waited for freedom? For my second chance? She was miles away from sentimentality, but the prospect of a wish - even if it was a mere fantasy conjured by the little girl from district twelve who would surely be a meal for her fellow careers - was a temptation that prompted her to pause in the midst of her meal and wait patiently for the jar to reach her. There were thousands of wishes, possibly more that the human race could desire - as many wishes as there were stars in the night’s black canvas. But which would she choose?

She tore herself a shred of paper and waited for the pen. The plethora of wishes was a chaotic concoction in her mind, but she managed to select the one thing she had yet to receive from anybody. She scrawled it neatly across her fragment of paper - Praise. It was something she knew she deserved, and something she might finally receive once this fight for glory commenced. As the jar slid her way, she dropped the paper inside and caught sight of a few other wishes. Life. Obviously. A second chance. She understood that one. A second chance would be gift from the heavens, but she knew such a thing was an impossibility, and why dwell on the impossible?

A friend. In the past this was a wish, but now her world was twisted. This was no place to create friendships - they would only burn in the end.

She scoffed and passed the jar to the next tribute.[/blockquote][/justify]

Last Edit: Jul 3, 2013 23:59:17 GMT -5 by Python

Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]
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cozy, queer af

broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz} Jul 4, 2013 0:29:14 GMT -5

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Post by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] on Jul 4, 2013 0:29:14 GMT -5

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I've fallen out of favor
And I've fallen from grace

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Yaa was shoving a spoonful of Capitol mashed potatoes into her mouth just as the quiet girl from District Twelve stood up and announced the collection of wishes she was forming.

"I want to know that everyone is hoping for something."

It seemed foolish to hope for something when you were so close to death. Everyone had to be wishing for the same thing: to survive the horrors of the Arena and make it back home to see family and friends and live to a ripe old age. Or, at least, that's how they advertised the whole victor thing.

And when she thought about it, Yaa couldn't come up with a wish. Past the arena, sure, but she was going to die. One hundred percent, no chance whatsoever. She was like a spectator waving a flag from the sidelines, unable to do anything but scream and scream as the fate of the game rolled right on ahead by itself. The faster she resigned herself to her fate, the clearer she would be able to think. Remembering every five minutes that someone in that very room would soon probably stab her in the face with a sword didn't exactly ease her mind.

Somebody passed her a pen and a strip of paper, and she only stared at it. Honestly, what was the point? She considered for a brief moment simply ripping the paper to shreds and stuffing the pieces into the jar as a sort of 'fuck off' to the whole wish thing, but that gave her an idea.

So she shrugged and leaned over the paper with a laugh and wrote down the honest-to-God truth.

I want to have sex at least a couple more times before someone here murders me.

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warehouse

Kire
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thinking about thonking

broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz} Jul 4, 2013 0:34:11 GMT -5

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Post by Kire on Jul 4, 2013 0:34:11 GMT -5

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Deimos Lasner
_________________________________________________________

Does, Says, Thinks, Accented, (Comments)

Creatures seem to scream and faint
Shadows blink and the laws will brake
Questions we could never solve
As answers in darkness evolved

Everyone had fallen silent as the girl had stood up and talked about wishes, myself included, and I knew that we were all contemplating whether we would actually reveal our secrets or not. They may be folded pieces of paper stuck in a jar, but that jar could be opened at any time and the papers read. I didn't know if I wanted people to know something like that about me, especially if I didn't tell it to them myself. What would I even write down on the paper anyway? Ideas came to my mind, thoughts about wanting to return to District seven again and living. I knew everyone here wanted to live, even though all but one of us would die. I couldn't wish for life, it was too obvious and whoever went through the wishes would laugh when the saw it. I wouldn't subject myself to that when there were other things I wanted. But what did I want?

If I didn't know what I wanted there would be no way that I could write a wish down on the paper, whether I wanted to or not. At this moment I was leaning more towards staying put while others might give up that information because I liked keeping my heart's thoughts to myself, but there was the little part of me that wanted someone to know my deepest wish because it might come true if I told someone. The notion never left my mind as I watched more people stand up to take the paper and pen and scribble a word or two on the paper before they folded it and placed it in the jar. Even if I gave in and got up, was there anything I could write?

The thing that triggered me to move was when Yaa got up from her seat beside me and made her way over to the girl with the wish jar. If she was willing to tell someone her inner thoughts, I should too. Still not knowing what I was going to write down, I stood up and followed Yaa, thoughts bouncing around my head as I contemplated what was most important to me. I waited quietly, keeping my eyes away from Yaa's paper in a gesture of respect that I didn't know if she noticed. I was curious, but I didn't want to pry. I wouldn't like others peeking over my shoulder so I should honor the fact that others might not like it either.

When Yaa finished and returned to her seat I moved forward, ripping a page from the girl's notebook while not quite meeting her gaze. Taking the pen in my hand I stared at the blank paper on the table in front of me. I had no idea what I should put down, not one. I shut my eyes and tried to think of the thing I most wanted, sorting out the memories of home and life because I didn't want to write down something I thought was so obvious. Then an image came to my mind, the latest wooden carving I had been working on. It was a little bear and I had just carved the main shape of it, I would have finished the features if I had returned home but I hadn't. I knew then what I wanted. Trying to write as neatly as possible, I carefully traced the letters needed to form the words; A purpose.

I folded my paper, placing it in the jar before returning to my seat. I tried to catch a glance at Yaa without getting caught, my own wish still echoing in my mind. Maybe I had already found one?

Moving space but not in time
Choices made but nothing's right
Flakes of memory played by disease
Have only seen what I wanna see

_________________________________________________________

Words: 610

On hills and waves on stormy days.

м е ш
Merchant

[M:-600]

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last seen Feb 7, 2023 7:17:53 GMT -5

HMMMMMMMM

broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz} Jul 4, 2013 8:55:21 GMT -5

Quote

Post by м е ш on Jul 4, 2013 8:55:21 GMT -5

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entaelia lanine

________________________________

Well, hey, here's another thing I have learned to hate! Eating with my fellow tributes who are going to try to stab me in the arena! My face shows its usual "I hate everything" mood, and why not? It's the Hunger Games, and I'm about to face some certain death, so why not hate the world right now. Hate is a strong feeling, but even so, I feel this feeling too much, lately. My clock is ticking and it's just a matter of days before I'm dropped into a man-made arena. Very, very fun. An avox girl serves us some Capitol food, and yes, it's pretty good. Yet still, some of the fancy restaurants back home have food better than this. I see that some of the lower district tributes are chowing down on their plate, because they've never had a decent meal in their entire life, and I guess it wouldn't hurt to put on a few pounds before the games start. Some of them talk to each other, making alliances and enemies, but none, I hope, are developing friendships. There is no room for this word, "friend", in here; we are tossed into the games in a few days and oh the sadness of killing, oh the sadness.

And suddenly, I hear a voice at the end of the table, far away from where I'm sitting, a young girl's voice. She blurts something about embryos, and webbed fingers, but I don't catch it all. Is this our new teacher? My head turns to see the tiny girl named Sierra, and she hops onto the table and continues. Oh, great. A science class in the games; well, learning is fun!

"My name is Sierra, and I think, if you want, maybe... we could just take a moment to wish?" She says. "My sister- she was in the Games last year, and the last thing she told me was that she should have asked for a bigger wish." In her hands, she shows us a notepad, a pen, and a wishes jar. Ha, I used to have one of those when I was a kid, and I'd fill it with useless wishes of uselessness, like to breathe fire or have the power to summon dragons. "I'd like it very much if you could all make one - before we go into the arena, I want to know that everyone is hoping for something." She hops back off of the table and returns to her seat.

Okay, so I guess it wasn't a science class, but instead, it was a young girl's plead for us to make a wish. If these wishes come true, I don't know what horror would happen. Monsters, fairy companions, everyone wins, the Capitol blows up, who knows what madness the world will become. Some of the tributes, us, get up to wish something in the wishing jar. Meh, I'll make one, help this girl's wish for us to wish come true. I get the jar, the paper, and the pen, and write something that I've always wanted. Fire-breathing powers and dragons. Well, it would certainly give me an edge if I could breathe flames from my lungs, and dragons would make up for tamable mutts. I fold the paper into a tiny square, and toss it into the collection of papers, like how we'll all be tossed into the arena by some wickedly insane Capitol. Whatever, this wish thing is nonsense, but this Sierra girl is happy now, isn't she? The jar is passed on from my hands and I know that this wish was something I would actually need in the arena, not just something like "life". Life? Well, who doesn't want more life, because you freakin' already have life! I don't have fire-breathing abilities, so yay, I guess? It would help me win, and that's what matters now.

________________________________

Normal - FF8969
Quotes - FF639D
Thoughts - DED78A

Last Edit: Jul 9, 2013 15:54:30 GMT -5 by м е ш

{ C H A R A C T E R S }

charade
Retired Staff

3,811 POSTS

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

Thinking

broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz} Jul 4, 2013 9:03:35 GMT -5

Quote

Post by charade on Jul 4, 2013 9:03:35 GMT -5

As Erik had always paid much attention to the games, he had known that his district partner was the younger sister of the previous years female tribute by the time they had made it onto the train. He would have realized it earlier, but he had been kind of caught up in his mounting excitement. Now though, there was time to sit back and examine the competition. Sierra was a waif of a girl, one that hardly looked her age given her size, and she appeared to be nervous to boot. Still, her request had caught Erik off-guard. If there was one thing he didn't really expect to see on a large scale, it was a show of togetherness from all the tributes. Everyone had their own motivations for wanting to win the games and Erik was no different.

However, it was only now that he began to see how similar the other tributes could be. Erik sipped from a glass of pomegranate lemonade as the notepad was passed around, catching a glimpse of a few words here and there, words like friend, home, life;and other, more material things. But therein was the biggest similarity of all. All the things his fellow tributes wanted could fall under the same category, and so Erik scrawled his own words down before passing the materials to the next person with a genuine smile. For the moment, he could afford to be nice, to act his age before the inevitable conclusion of the games. What form that would take he couldn't be sure. It could be a crown on his head or sword in his chest, but whatever the case, he just hoped it would be as worth it as he had always hoped.

I wish for a reason to be remembered.

It that didn't sum up everything, what did?

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

eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris
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broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz} Jul 4, 2013 9:52:34 GMT -5

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Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Jul 4, 2013 9:52:34 GMT -5

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you're gonna
catch a cold
from the ice
inside your soul

When I was a child, my mother would tuck me in under a warm blanket and force warmth upon me.

Still, I never found it strange that each morning I would awake apart from my covers, as if they had flown free in my slumber. Ever since I was a little girl, I had been defiant. Someone would try to warm my heart, and I would encase myself in ice and hide. Someone would try to take me into the light and kindness of the world, and I would screech and run away

[/color]. I was a girl forged from the black ice that lined the farthest corners of Hell, and I was never meant to be loved or wanted or cared for.

Or, was that just my excuse? Could I ever be loved? ~~Damn it, Cleo, you've always had that chance.~~

Mother kissed my forehead and chased the nightmares away -- but my dreams themselves were beautiful nightmares[/color].

Nox cuddled beside my form and begged me to make the ticking stop -- but I'd place my finger upon his lips and tell him false promises[/color].

My friends would offer me hugs and smiles -- but I'd lift my nose up in the air and walk away[/color].

I was a proud and vicious girl, and I not only froze myself, but I'd freeze the hearts of any who came in contact with me. So, as Drace brought my attention the fragile girl from District 12, who was holding a jar and asking for wishes like an ignorant fool[/color], I rolled my eyes and glared down at the table where I sat.

My fellow tributes scrawled wishes across pieces of parchment as I stayed seated, frozen with a stubborn fire that was blue as ice[/color]. Still, soon enough, half of the others had already partaken in the act, and with an upward roll of my eyes and a sigh I stood up and walked over to the jar.

My fingers clutched the pen as I zipped across the piece of parchment, writing out one unspoken wish. And as I placed the pen down and folded the piece of paper, I glared at the girl with the fragile limbs.

"Don't go looking for wishes in cold places, girl," I hissed as I dropped my wish into the jar, where it would be drowned by all the others. I turned as my raven black hair flowed behind me, and frowned as the word I had carved across the paper echoed inside my mind.

Warmth.[/color]

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Table: Cass

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Last Edit: Jul 4, 2013 9:56:06 GMT -5 by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris

all my girls got their lace and their crimes.

Nightlock
Merchant

[M:-450]

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last seen Jan 19, 2016 15:20:41 GMT -5

broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz} Jul 4, 2013 19:15:04 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Nightlock on Jul 4, 2013 19:15:04 GMT -5

Tick tock hear the clock countdown
Wish the minute hand could be rewound
So much to do and so much I need to say

Night was sitting in the very back of the dinning hall. Night saw a girl stand up and start passing a jar around. Night heard that it was for a wish that they wanted. One wish. Only one. Night didn't know what she wanted to wish for. She could wish for death, life, her friend back home, anything.

Night saw people writing on a piece of paper folding it up and passing a jar around that they put the paper in. Night continued to watch it go around the hall. Night watched as it got closer to her. She would have to think of a wish fast. Or she wouldn't even put a wish in the jar. She put her hand on her bracelet and sighed.

The jar finally found its way to her. She took a piece of paper and wrote on it, "A weapon." She folded the paper up and put it in the jar passing it along to the next person. Night didn't even want to know what the girl was going to do with the wishes after everybody put them in there.

[/size]

k!ah
Retired Staff

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#expensivetrash

broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz} Jul 6, 2013 22:33:24 GMT -5

Quote

Post by k!ah on Jul 6, 2013 22:33:24 GMT -5

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::Distrcit 6::Male::18::

All of us sat in the dining hall. Not many spoke, the room was reasonably quiet, I sat on my own, not wanting to be next to anyone, not wanting anyone to sit near me. I wanted to on my own. Last night she had visited my dreams. She had stormed in, stormed in and crushed my heart all over again. I had watched again and again as the knife slide across her throat. I had watched again and again as her eyes bleed, the life that had lived there once running away, leaving them empty. I had watched as the man clung to her, towering over her. It had been almost a week since these dreams had haunted me. I almost thought that I had escaped them. That had been silly if me. Silly to think that I could escape them, escape her. She had me held tight. She would never let me go. She would never forgive me.

All my life all I have ever wanted is to be forgiven. Every time I made a mistake when I was little I would almost die in guilt. I would do anything, anything to hear the words “I forgive you” to fall out of the mouth of the person who I have offended. Every time I had hurt someone I would repay them, then the words “I forgive you” would fall from their lips. I would then be happy. But I have not been forgiven. Today I was still guilty. I was still wrapped up in a mistake that costed more than just a silly consequence, like a broken item. But the mistake that wrapped me up, it was more than someone crying over spilt milk. It was something that was irreversible. You could wipe up milk, our a new cup. But you could not wipe up a life, life, I lost, was gone forever.

A tribute walked over to me, and I tried to wipe off all the emotions off my face, not wanting to look weak in front of one of my competitors. They places a pencil in front of me and a small slip of paper. “Write your wish”They murmur before slipping back into the crowd of other tributes. My wish? I wished for my sister back. That’s was my biggest wish, to have her back in my life, back into my arms. But I knew that was stupid. I knew she was coming back no matter how many times I wished for her to come back.

Picking up the pencil I ran my fingers over the smooth wood. There was only one more wish that I could possible think of. One more wish that I could possibly write down on this piece of paper.

I wish to be forgiven. Nothing else, nothing else but to be forgiven by the people that I have hurt, and the people that I will hurt.

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