all too well | pixie + chaske
Feb 17, 2015 15:39:06 GMT -5
Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Feb 17, 2015 15:39:06 GMT -5
pixie ruined | district five | 69th hunger games
The atmosphere of the Capitol early in the morning is different. A mix of quietness and the general hyperactivity of the citizens. The busyness remains in the air like a sickly smell you can't get rid of. I wonder if this city ever sleeps; last night I was kept awake from the roaring crowd a couple blocks down. Lord above knows what they were cheering so ferociously about. I assume it's something to do with the games. They all seem so passionate about them.
As I step into the elevator, alone, I realise that I'm running later than usual. Normally, I have Zeki by my side and we wander down to the training centre stations together. The feeling of being alone in a place of luxurious and advanced technology makes me feel stale. Am I worthy of being here? Probably not. Especially considering I'll be dead in days from now.
My finger presses the ground floor button with elegance and I hold onto the cold metal railing as the elevator moves down the shaft. It's incredible. It's fascinating. It's all so perfect and dandy, yet back in every single one of the districts, we each suffer. We suffer with each day, because each day brings something new to moan about. I always used to moan, but after seeing tapes of the Reaping in the lower districts, I'm only just realising how lucky I really am.
But is it luck? If I was truly lucky, I'd be here, in the Capitol, everyday living my life not giving a flying fuck about anything. I doubt I'd have to work. I'd probably be one of those people with the awkwardly large hair dyed every colour imaginable. I'd like to hope I'm not, yet the sad thing is: everyone here is like that.
The elevator comes to a halt and the doors zip open before my very eyes. I step out quickly, still worried that I'll get trapped between the doors and have to have my arm amputated. I've been assured many times that it won't happen, yet I'm always one to be skeptical of everyone else. If there is an 'if', there's a possibility.
I walk into the training centre and I'm amazed when I count twenty-three tributes. Huh. I guess I really was running late today. Perhaps, my Capitolites and district partner thought I was ill? Maybe they just left me there out of spite. either way, the thought confuses me. Of course, there's always the possibility that it was my fault.
Okay. Which stations haven't I done yet. I look around and see tributes at them all, obscuring my view of what they are. I glance up to the ceiling and see the rope ladders. I haven't tried them yet. I imagine that I can observe all of the tributes' work from up there - and with that thought, my hands reach out into the air before me and take a tight grip on the rope.
It takes me a while, but eventually I make my way to top.
Lying on the flimsy rope, I notice that the climbing caused my arms to ache. This feeling was of course familiar to me, yet it reminded me that I was pushing myself. A thought that hadn't been pushed to the front of my mind in a while. I hope I'm growing and becoming more of a threat with all this training.
I catch the eye of the boy from nine, and notice he's staring at me. I pull myself along and clamber further along to make it look like I'm not relaxing up here. I hope he hasn't been looking at me too long - I don't want him to get the wrong impression.
I smile down to him, hoping he's one of the friendly few. He's one of the tributes I haven't seen much of. Is he one of those people that bottles it all up and explodes further into the process? Or is he one of the few that really isn't a threat at all and is likely to trip off his pedestal at the start of the games? No matter which it is, I hope he notices my smile.
What he thinks of it, I don't care.
RUNNING SCARED, i was there
i remember it all too well.