{ creature fear // jem & dan
Jun 9, 2014 0:41:53 GMT -5
Post by aya on Jun 9, 2014 0:41:53 GMT -5
Cowboy Dan Johnwayne
some nights I thirst for real blood
for real knives
for real cries
for real knives
for real cries
Due to an unfortunate combination of unwillingness to work and love of taunting, Dan found himself spending 'valuable' training time antagonizing the other tributes from the plants station. He'd learn fuck all that would help in over the course of a week, anyhow, and he could already do most of the skills they taught. No way he'd be able to memorize a stack of plants well enough to trust that whatever was making it into his mouth wasn't, in fact, going to kill him. He got more enjoyment out of jeering at the faces he had plans to ruin in seven days' time.
"What kind of parent names their kid Jem?" he wondered aloud in the direction of the District One tribute. He knew, of course, exactly what kind of parent Jem Morgan had: the kind that nobody would goddamn shut up about since the reaping. As if the fact that his mother was the mayor made him a better fighter or more of a target. All it meant was that his folks back home had more money to throw at their darling tribute's sponsorship fund.
Mayor parents were almost as bad as victor parents, as far as undeserved attention went. There was a definite hierarchy, at least at the beginning: relatives of victors got the most attention, then important peoples' kids, then relatives of dead tributes. Then the pretty tributes, then the young ones. Then the ruthless ones. If Dan gave more than half a shit about the spotlight, he'd hate how five categories preceded him every time, always for things that the kid in question had no control over. Fortunately, the Cowboy didn't care much — his little sis might've, but she'd be bumped up a few categories should she ever follow him into the arena. Probably would hate being overshadowed by him more than that, though — at least at the beginning.
He tilted back in his chair, his feet resting on a pile of plants he suspected were tobacco. The corners of his mouth twitched upward as he stared, unblinking, at tribute who, based on district alone, ought to be the closest to Dan's equal. Judging by the way most of the lower-district flocks were handling their weapons, Jem Morgan would not have very much competition.
...