broken wish-bones // all tributes {blitz}
Jul 3, 2013 4:51:14 GMT -5
Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on Jul 3, 2013 4:51:14 GMT -5
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sierra birdbrook
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
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
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.
plot by clover and meg.
template by clover.
faceclaim is kathryn prescott.
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