My Right to be Hellish // [Mason+City]

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Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]
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cameron stood in line for an hour for a stupid ride for me <3 best <3

My Right to be Hellish // [Mason+City] Feb 21, 2015 0:38:57 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Feb 21, 2015 0:38:57 GMT -5

Velocity Rush

"Before the g l i t t e r, the a s h e s and t o m b s t o n e d u s t..."

Warning.

The players arrange themselves. There are the spectators, an equal number of boys and girls in the throes of hormones. There are the trainers, designed to be even more forgettable than the avoxes who haunt the hallways. Then, on the perfectly square stage, the actors.

Standby.

I'm admitted without a ticket, just a wink and flash of my credentials. District Eight Female it says, and I've wondered what it means for days. No matter. As long as I have a good seat. I'm ushered forward and while there's no playbill, there is a narrator. He looks at me long and hard, sighs distastefully. "I'll be the model fan," I promise him. He proceeds to tell me what I already know: be quiet, watch closely, learn what you can't.

"What I can?"

He shakes his head and walks away. If I learn what I can't, then I've learned all I can. I lean against the ropes, promising that I will be here to watch, listen, learn, when one of the actors starts to fray.

Maybe he's a puppet after all.

Go.

The ropes are made for climbing and in a breath I am on the stage. Maybe I've been an actor all along, and that's why I didn't need a ticket. I smile, but then that's all wrong for my character. I am strong and brave and stonefaced. I roll my lips together and approach the fraying boxer. From my hair I pluck a bobby pin and slide it between my teeth.

So close to a needle, the monster reminds me.

It's no more a needle than I am an actor. I smile around the pin, through it, as I lift his glove and tug at the dangling string. It goes taut. "This won't hurt a bit," I promise the boxer. The pin isn't a needle and he isn't a marionette. I slip the string into the U and thread the pin through the stitches. The string follows the path home.

I bend to kiss the stitched wound, lips to sweaty plastic. "All better," I promise.

End Scene.

OOC Notes
surprise tags, catoe!

[presto]

but i ran away for a couple years
just to prove i've never been free

[/presto]

[googlefont="Homemade Apple:400"]

Last Edit: Feb 21, 2015 0:42:54 GMT -5 by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]

credit umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

credit ✨ zozo.

- chars -

Noah Vau - D2 (Cato)
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I wish Cato didnt die

My Right to be Hellish // [Mason+City] Feb 21, 2015 1:18:08 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Noah Vau - D2 (Cato) on Feb 21, 2015 1:18:08 GMT -5

"Dialogue"
"Hearing"
Thoughts
Narration

Blood. My one companion for almost my entire life. Its even here with me now. I wanted a boxing match with one of the more experienced trainers. I love to fight. That is all I will win. That is how I will die. Fighting. I can never get enough of it. So I fight. From morning until night. Not non-stop of course more like I will fight at least once or twice a day. I love it. So I ask for boxing or wrestling matches. I've had enough of wrestling for the moment. Too easy. Right now what I want is to throw punches. Break some noses or spill blood. The last match I was in only ended a few moments ago. Practicing for the arena. Would I be the first tribute to fight only unarmed? Never pick up a weapon? That would be a show. Watching someone fight without a weapon. Isn't that was I was told on the train? People want a show well they better expect to watch stuff they have never seen

I look down at my gloves. Stitched by my brother Orion. Already showing signs of abuse. Slightly ripped. I curse not caring who hears me. This is my only sign that I know my brother doesn't hate me. The one thing I value above everything else. I don't want to lose this gift so soon. My only link back home. To a time when I wasn't turned into a ruthless monster. Isn't that what Katelyn from eleven implied about me? That being from two turned me into what I am now. A trained would be killer without mercy. Someone's words interrupt my gaze of the gloves. Another tribute touching my gloves? Anger bubbling to the surface. I'm too shocked to do anything as I stare at this woman about to wreck my glove. I'm about to throw a punch when she says all better.

I look at the glove again to see the ripped part now stitched. I'm in shock. Don't know what to say. She stitched my glove. How did she know and why? I turn back to look her right in the eye. I grab her arm. "Thank you. The gloves I'm wearing mean the world to me." More than my own life. So long as they remain whole, I too shall remain whole. These gloves will represent my life. The better condition will reflect how I feel inside. I more than likely will perish in the arena. I can do this much to show my brother I care. Keeping these gloves intact mean a lot. This woman helped with just that. I don't expect her to stay here. She's done helping me and I'm sure she doesn't want to be associated with someone like me just like Katelyn. I give the woman an awkward hug not knowing what else to do to show my appreciation.