Next Stop: Hell // Triplets And Barfs Day 1 Travel

Arrows
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your resident blonde bisexual boy

Next Stop: Hell // Triplets And Barfs Day 1 Travel Jun 18, 2015 15:18:19 GMT -5

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Post by Arrows on Jun 18, 2015 15:18:19 GMT -5

- Kirito Miristioma -

"Even when you think you have lost yourself, remember why you are here.."

Murderer! You killed her you fucking monster! What the hell kind of healer kills another person? A healer that doesn't deserve to be one! You should be the corpse rotting at the cornucopia! You deserve nothing else other than death! You are a disgrace to yourself and your family! Would they really want to see their killer of a son again? Of course not! You are nothing more than a beast, a savage beast! Karma is a bitch though so don't you worry, your time will come! Then you will burn in eternal pain and misery in the deepest and darkest pit of the seven hells! Congratulations Kirito Miristioma you are a killer, a cold blooded killer!

Guilt screams through Kirito's head like a battering ram crashing through the pristine walls of an untouched chapel. Kirito's eyes can no longer see since they are swarmed with the watery bitterness of his tears. As each single tear slipped down Kirito's cheeks it left a streak of cleanliness within the landscape of drying blood. The blood of Preston Garrity, Rowan Combe, and Noah Bowers. All other people he turned his knife towards. All victims of a fallen healer's hand. All innocent, all other than Noah. He too now carried the burden of death. His own hands had called the death of the deadly Elya Johnwayne. Kirito wondered how his shoulders felt carrying the weight of another's stolen life. He wondered if Noah to tripped and crumbled under its humongous strength. Or maybe perhaps he was strong unlike Kirito at all. Perhaps he carried his kill proudly and vowed to carry on no matter what the cost. Yet if that was true then he surely couldn't be human.

Kirito wavered as his feet moved aimlessly forward. Each step he took he stumbled. Each breath he took he swallowed a sob. The sky too showed the signs of discomfort with the world as clouds covered every portion that could be seen by one's eyes. Not even the sounds of each of Kirito's allies moving ahead of him comforted him. Even with all of their hearts still beating all he could see was Rowan's that now sat as still as a fossil lost in the deep layers of the dirt.

Kirito's body also hissed words of hatred at him with every step he took. The wounds he had sustained in the chaos of the bloodbath still hung heavily on him. Thankfully though his own abilities in First Aid along with that of his allies had saved him much more pain than he would have wanted. Kirito's mind once again began to slip from the present and to vanish into a realm of darkness. However Kirito couldn't seem to bring the light back, he couldn't wake up... He was slipping away... 

The sounds of of wheels screeching to a halt spat like fire against Kirito's ears. Sullenly his icy gaze lifted to the rain his broken body was hauling him towards. A sensible side of his him question why the hell they were all even approaching a sketchy thing such as this train but on another hand he didn't give a shit. All that mattered now was staying alive and getting back to Ikaia. It was all the real Kirito had left to hold onto beside the ties of his allies to keep him somewhat steady.

As Kirito's allies boarded the train he took a moment to take a glance down the gaping gorge that sat like a mouth waiting for its prey below the tracks. Looks like a place to avoid. He thought to himself as he hopped calmly onto the train making extra sure not to lose his balance. However just as he was about to join his allies he heard the sound of approaching feet. A sigh escaped Kirito's pursed lips as he slowly turned to face the incoming strangers.

A shrill ran through the old Kirito's soul as he felt the knife already gripped within his hand. Why was it to easy for him to hold the knife? Why was he so comfortable? Oh right, he wasn't in control anymore. He was a killer now, his old self lost within the dark shroud of the blood he had shed. Locked deep within the vault of loneliness. A place where the sun could no longer reach. Yet a bit of light suddenly entered his cell at the sign of Circe. Shakily he warned his allies of their guests.

It took only moments for the car to be filled and the tension between the two groups to form like acid in the air. However Circe didn't give a damn as she handed supply after supply to him. Kirito could feel the sweat dancing on the brim of his head as he looked at her. She was so broken and beaten, whoever did this to her had one clear intention... to kill. Lucky for them they didn't make it to home base like he had... 

Through the mists of night that held Kirito within himself like titanium chains, he felt his old healing rythms take over as he patched Circe up slowly. Yet right as he was about to deal with her disfigured jaw Orion Hammerfell thought it would be smart to dig the tip of his sword into Kirito's neck. Shaking with annoyance for being interrupted the Murderous side of him swiftly smacked Orion's blade away. "Don' be such an' idiot, if I wanted her dead I wouldda stabbed her now let me finish helpin' her out." The words came out soft but they held a threat equal to his own. Thankfully the brute backed off and Kirito was able to finish strapping the goggles to Circe's head. It was then an old spark of himself glimmered through the dark, "Ya know, I thought ya were suppose to be tha career not meh." Another tear rolled down Kirito's cheek as he was once again swallowed alive like a lost light in a black hole.

As Circe wandered off Kirito could feel the wheels slowling as the breaks screeched again. With no hesitation he stood and wandered over to the exit. "Let's go Rhyme, Olivia, Imp." As the door flung open Kirito timed his little leap to safety. Part of him felt bad for leaving Circe but that part was a prisoner. Now all that was left was an empty puppet being controlled by a twisted master. 

Graphic by the Breathtakingly Talented Stare

*
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They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.

Next Stop: Hell // Triplets And Barfs Day 1 Travel Jun 18, 2015 15:19:06 GMT -5

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Post by * on Jun 18, 2015 15:19:06 GMT -5

Escape.

Run.

Survive.

The words just keep slipping through her mind as she takes off from the most potentially life threatening occurence she had ever experiences. To her, there had been so many times when her life had been threatened, however, this one seemed to have been the one that conquered them all together. Just the possibility of death was gone now, forever left in her wake as she boarded the train for safety with her other alliance members and so goes the quiet ride, for now.

Fingers clinched tightly onto the staff, she tries to calm her breaths that are seemingly too fast for her own good. Her heart racing without end and if she didn't have her fingers wrapped so tightly around the spear, then they would be shaking from the adrenaline that was starting to wear off. As it was, she took residence against one side of the train, keeping her eyes trained on the other occupants of the ride who happened to be from another alliance. Fearful for her own oxygen, should they take it from her prematurely, she settled and kept her facial expression to a bare minimum without a smile.

That is, until the tinkering of sponsors rained down on them from above and there was sudden gifts of glory for them to paratake. The amount of parachutes that came for her, also came for Kirito and for Orion. A pleasant expression softened her face and she soon found to have been given such items for health. Water and antivenom happened to be needed and she so slipped them by her other ally by placing a set in her bag, also while taking a pair of gloves from one and shoving them pass her and tossing them at Rhyme's head.

"Here. I need you to keep me alive long enough for me to become victor. Think you can do it for me?" Her snide remarks came out as though she bickered at her, though her tough exterior couldn't let pass the need to protect her internally. Though the response from the girl was the same. A cocky remark as if the two had known each other for years.

"Just keep doing what you can about breaking things and you'll earn yourself a hefty reward in no time." Olivia leaned back against the chair, watching the exterior of the arena pass her by.

"What dangers lie ahead of us?" She wonders outloud, talking to the reflection that stares back at her through. The window accumulates small amounts of condensation from her breath fogging up the glass, but none of that seems to bother her as the conversation among the train keeps to a dull roar.

Cameo {RIP Charlie}
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#It'sAPoundSymbol

Next Stop: Hell // Triplets And Barfs Day 1 Travel Jun 18, 2015 15:19:17 GMT -5

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Post by Cameo {RIP Charlie} on Jun 18, 2015 15:19:17 GMT -5

Rhyme Morales
D

Emptiness. It feels as though I’m a weightless object skidding across this rough terrain. I should have the sensation of being on top of the Panem, yet I don’t. A strong Career was taken in the second of that bloodbath, forming no comfort within the pit of my stomach. One less opponent in the future, but one more doubt as well. If Elya can be overtaken, couldn’t all of us strong-willed fighters be? So in return only emptiness invades me. I journey onto a train cart with the rest of the trusted herd of Tributes. Wonder just how long it’ll take before these caring friends begin stabbing backs.

Just as we begin to take off, sponsored parachutes rain down like its Christmas morning. One falls before me while everyone else gets soaked in gifts. I’m like the forgotten bastard child, though the blade I unravel makes me just as pleased as the rest. Without a scratch on me, this is all I need for my survival at this current moment. Until a pair of protective gloves is thrown to my face, and it’s no other then Olivia being as smart-ass as ever.

“It’s cute that you want my protection, but I come first.” Well that’s a complete lie, but I have to keep up with me persona. Honestly I’d protect her as though she was Rhythm, their personalities certainly resemble each other enough. “I could slit your throat so easily right now…” I warn her in attempt to rid of her attitude a tad. “Guess these gloves can work as an even exchange.” Course that coy grin is provoked upon my face, while I try on the gloves for size. It covers up my beautiful bracelet of a token, but I wouldn’t want to see it get ruined anyways.

“Thanks.” Somehow my smile grows lighter, and my voice actually has a small pinch of kindness. “And don’t worry. No damage is coming our way for a bit.” Perhaps that’s my way of telling her I do have her back, or it’s just simple reassurance. Either way I lean over to ruffle her hair teasingly, and quickly snap back to my place before she has a chance to retaliate. Now I can only hope to stay true to my word.

70thhunger Games

So Many Different Personalities

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

Next Stop: Hell // Triplets And Barfs Day 1 Travel Jun 18, 2015 15:19:21 GMT -5

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Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Jun 18, 2015 15:19:21 GMT -5

[googlefont="Arya:400"]

	CIRCE LYON
	It was twilight by the time they found the motivation to search the train. The ding-ding of sponsorship had finally roused them from grief. Circe had stopped trying to keep track of her allies; what was the point? Even when she was vigilant, even when she had arrows notched her bow and dogged the left side of one, it only took one soaring axe. She didn’t even bother to signal to them when she decided to follow the chirping call. She just used Orion as a crutch to get her feet beneath and then started walking. And if she walked into an ambush, it was no more than she deserved. The first thing she noticed about the dining car was that the skylight was open and one of the sponsorship pod had gotten snagged on the crank. The second was the alliance scattered across the car, looking none the worse for wear. Circe lifted her hands, practically the only undamaged part of her, offering empty palms to their alliance. She met Rhyme and Olivia’s gaze evenly and skipped right over Imp. When she spotted Kirito, she dropped her hands and measured each step to him in heart beats. Beat, step, beat, step, all the way down the aisle. She took every movement slowly, barely trusting the strength of their friendship to keep her alive. When she reached him, she lifted the back of her hand, drawing her knuckles down his jawline, as though to say: I remember this and I want it for my own. She bent to scoop up the pods with her name on them and then jerked her head towards the back of the car. In the last booth she collapsed, pushing the medical kit and goggles at him, willing him to work a miracle. She fingered the edges of the duct tape Gunner had applied, seeking weak points. Of course there were none; the girl was a skilled a healer as a lover, leaving no room for error. Circe peeled each strip of tape off her face with flicks of her wrist. For the first time since their encounter in the district eleven suite, Circe forced herself to meet Kirito’s pale eyes. She could just see, in their reflection, the ruin of her former self. Cheeks pinked by the tape, eyes red rimmed, jaw mangled, mouth bloody. She knew she was more than a pretty face, but would her sponsors? She turned her flat gaze on Orion as he lifted his weapon to Kirito’s neck. Even if she could have spoken, she didn’t know what she could have said to quiet The Silent Hulk. He didn’t know Kirito the way she did; he never would. She watched the boy from ele-vun while he worked. When he finally wrapped the goggles around her head, securing the jaw, Circe sighed. There was a little part of her ~~a shameful part~~ that had thought to tease Kirito Miristioma. You look jaw droppingly good for having just survived the Bloodbath. But it was too small a part, too buried by grief and rage. She couldn’t tease Kirito, couldn’t let herself indulge in whatever twisted feelings had sprung up in the last week. In the end, it would be his axe or arrow or blade in her head. She tested his fix with the words, “don’t think that now I owe you one.” Circe averted her gaze as she gathered up the remaining medical supplies. Without a backwards glance she stalked down the dining car to where the rest of the supplies had been scattered. “Guess Julian Bryze and Cricket Antoinette have been busy,” she said, looking pointedly at Orion and Olivia. It was a shock to be able to speak easily after hours of being painfully mute. She nearly smiled before she realized her error. Some of the boon had been intended for another. A better tribute. Circe felt the hot flush of tears forming even as she blocked out the image of Gunner gathering the last of Elya Johnwayne. She needed to do something, say something. She had already insulted Kirito; she may as well remind the rest of their alliance where things stood. “At least Imp managed to salvage something for us to burn because ripred knows her bow isn't good for anything else.”
	district 2 female of the 70th Hunger Games

fXEZLCsB1-4

[Circe receives a whole bundle of items from sponsorship. She accepts the F/A given to her in the previous Cornucopia scene from La Torre. Delivery Word Roll FAILED]

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Last Edit: Jun 18, 2015 15:20:42 GMT -5 by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]

credit umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

credit ✨ zozo.

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Next Stop: Hell // Triplets And Barfs Day 1 Travel Jun 18, 2015 15:21:40 GMT -5

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Post by grim. on Jun 18, 2015 15:21:40 GMT -5

Imp Stole

tag

words

I found myself sprinting, away from that arena, away from the two girls that had fallen. One of which feel just before my face, the life from her eyes dispersed as her body fell, and it was people I know, people I trust who did this. I watched her fall, I watched her blood drain. I was a subject to her murder, and it made me sick. As I ran I felt My stomach turn, I felt my expression harden, and I couldn't help but vomit while I was running. I was too sick to notice the pack of tributes running around me.

I had become what brother had always accused me of being...a monster

I didn't look back, not for a second, because I knew that no matter what i had done there was no changing what had happened moments before. I thought that I had the strength to take a life, I thought I had the strength to be like them. But I was fooling myself, this whole time I was convinced I was fooling everyone around me, but none of them caught on. I was the slimy fish dangling from my own reel.

I was broken, useless.

I had thought the only thing I could become was a murderer, it seemed so simple. All it required was a few precious movements, but I couldn't stomach it, I couldn't stomach them. I was running with a pack of careers, what was I doing? Running with those that would have my head in a matter of days. I was simply hiding under their wing until they felt the need for a snack. I was like cattle, kept close, take care of, until I was fat enough to eat. How could I be so stupid?

They all seemed so strong, so hopeful for their future, but the reality was only one of them would survive. All those years of opportunity, all that time waiting, wondering what it would feel like to just feel nothing. They all seemed so valuable, why had I never given in earlier?

I was only capable of taking the life of my own

We had regrouped, I was standing in a crowd of so many skilled children. They had spent years preparing for this arena, years that meant something for them. While mine had been wasted since I took my first breath. One of the district two girls decided to make some kind of bitchy remark about my shooting skills, which she was absolutely right, i was horrible, but fuck her. She had no write to inadvertently throw me out in the open like that. Even though I was broken, i couldn't let them know that. I had to make up a hell of a bark at this very moment.

"You sniveling little bitch, watch your tongue." I say with a tone as lethal as poison.

notes

♡

where my demons hide.

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

Next Stop: Hell // Triplets And Barfs Day 1 Travel Jun 18, 2015 15:28:28 GMT -5

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Post by Noah Vau - D2 (Cato) on Jun 18, 2015 15:28:28 GMT -5

	ORION HAMMERFELL
	Grief filled my veins. Moving away from Elya was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Watching Mason die on the screen hurt horribly, and right now he's all I'm thinking about. Mason and Elya. Had I done something maybe I could stand with my brother right now. Perhaps I could turn around all the pain lurking inside my body, but right now it's impossible. All I can think about is Elya, and the way her skull was split. Part of me wanted to run away and find whoever killed her, but at the same time I have to protect Circe and Nat. Then a parade of parachutes rained down from the sky. Anger was flowing through my body. All of it. Why would anyone care right now? We lost one of our own, and this is what they give us? Prizes? Are they serious? I didn't understand, but I'll never understand. Standing with my eyes fixed on the ground not saying nothing. Circe uses me and helps herself to her feet, and I followed behind along her. Stepping onto a train, I looked around. It was interesting, and I wanted to see what all I was sponsored, but right away something was wrong. People were on the train. An entire alliance. Four of them. I stopped in my tracks peering out from behind Circe. Why are they here? What do they want? Should I fight them right now? They could kill us. Destroy Circe or Nat like Elya was. I won't be the coward anymore, but Circe was moving forward towards the guy from eleven. He was starting to patch her up, or at least that's what it seemed, and I wasn't sure what to do. Whether I should leave them alone because obviously they have something going, but he could kill her. Removing the sword, I ran forward holding the tip at his neck daring him to make the wrong move because if he hurt her, his head would fly from his body. Nobody would hurt them now. Not a single person in the world because they are my friends, and it's my job to protect them. "Make one wrong move Eleven. Give me a reason to run my sword through your neck." And he was done before anything had gone wrong. Before anything had happened. Maybe he wasn't as bad as I had thought, but I lost one, and I will not lose another. Not today. Not ever. My life has to end before Placing the sword back in the sheath, I turn away gathering the parachutes that had my name on them and placing myself in the back of the car away from everyone, and I started looking through my items. Some of them were amazing. A armored vest. I've seen these in many games before, and by the looks of it, my allies got the same things for the most part. Armor. We'll need it. Antivenom. Who knows when I'll need this, but where do I put it all? Thankfully the next pod I opened was a bag. I sighed relief as I tossed the antivenom inside followed by an empty water jug, a medkit, a flint, tar... What I open next completely catches me off guard. What is this? I hold it into the air trying to figure out what it is. Is it armor I've never seen it before? Yeah. I'll have to try it. Then I find a trident. Yes. A better weapon than this sword, and it's not nearly as heavy. Finally I open the last pod. Inside is a jar of tar. I remember Mason using this. He lit his weapon on fire. He used them for the best, and I can too.
	district 2 male of the 70th Hunger Games

Rolling for Delivery Word

iN4n_V_11-4
Failure1-4

Last Edit: Jun 18, 2015 16:03:37 GMT -5 by Noah Vau - D2 (Cato)

анзие (Anz)
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Next Stop: Hell // Triplets And Barfs Day 1 Travel Jun 18, 2015 18:26:13 GMT -5

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Post by анзие (Anz) on Jun 18, 2015 18:26:13 GMT -5

[googlefont="Arya:400"]

	NAT KRIGEL
	The word isn't one he can spell. One he can't quite grasp, like it's a little too far out of his reach even as it sits on the tip of his literal tongue - but if he were forced to choose the closest Nat could come to verbally describing his emotions was tired - as in, he's just really fucking tired. Done. Done with moving, with pretending that he can stand when Elya's gone, with pretending that he's got a candle to his brother, to anyone. He's done with pretending to be someone he can't ever be, even if he doesn't know how to be anything otherwise. His index finger presses almost obsessively into the dirt at his feet, pinching, pushing it together at this singular point. How much pressure does it take to kill a person? More than the pathetic bruise he's pushed into the ground, a near-perfect semi-sphere packed smooth against other granules of whatever the fuck dirt was - tremulously bonded, easily broken. All it takes is one axe. A tremor runs through his hand, and Nat pulls back with his chin propped on his knees, light images catching in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he hovers his hand over that one tiny spot, watching how light tries to catch but vanishes without a trace, turning the hole as dark as night. He pulls back, and watches his image come to life. ("He didn't mean to come back, anyhow." "Do you?") The likeness of a living Elya Johnwayne stares imperiously at him with her one eye. He's no artist, but in his mind he sees with perfect clarity conflict in the downturn of her mouth, acceptance in the outline of her frame. Like she knew. Did you know? "And you've got me for the fighting stuff. So you stand a better chance than everyone else here, just about." Her shoulders lifted in a casual shrug, frame resting against the railing of the rooftop he hid upon. The words he whispered in response don't feel like they're ever going to be enough. "Thank you." With the palm of his hand, Nat swipes the image clean from the ground, the outline of his hand leaving furrows where Elya used to be. Everything feels heavier, suddenly. Like it's so much harder to stand up and exist, never mind live. Almost, maybe, if he were... more attached. If Elya were better known to him for more than light conversation he destroys with inane questions and teenage angst when... when... I could've asked about you. Maybe. Gotten to know you better as a person... as Elya, rather than some stupid image I have in my head that you probably aren't. What did she see in him, to want him as her ally at all? As they trek the ground with heavy hearts, his fingers squeeze the longsword, the hilt feeling too strange, too wrong. He belongs with a bow - or a crossbow - like the ones that Circe and Orion have in their hands. Nat Krigel might have been trained, but Nat Krigel is an archer. That was one thing I won before. How simple it all seemed then: just Leon's cheery, "Go get 'em," and Arissa's approving smile; just a bow in his hands, not a weapon for survival; just a target in the distance, not someone's death awaiting. Everything pretty and adorned with ribbons, every face smiling and laughing and living, every body with blood coursing through their veins for the work of their own beating heart. (He gives Orion the sword, and feels at home with a weapon he's grown into.) Has it really been three years past? Has time really ticked by? If it has it must have swept right past him, because one moment they're trudging downcast together, as broken as they would never had been - and then he's in the train with Circe and Orion, and Gunner La Torre is nowhere to be found. If he worried about her, Nat couldn't feel it through the dull ache spreading through his limbs. For a moment he raises his gaze to the roof, forehead crinkling as he remembers: "My skill set includes seduction, bare knuckle boxing on top of moving trains, and stealing your money." ...Nah, she wouldn't have. The movement of the train lulls him into complacency, his eyelids falling heavy, heavy, heavier- It's the incessant chirping of falling parachutes that calls him out of his stupor, and Nat lifts his head to see Circe pacing away from them, her shoulders taut even as she moves. Orion is at her heels, a silent guardian to his district partner. Shaking his head, Nat grasps his new crossbow and pads after them, trying not to worry as much as he does. When he gets there, the scene is stranger than he would've thought it could be. Kirito patches up his ally. Good to know. Orion has territorial issues. Good to know. Nat aims his crossbow at the girl they call Imp, and thinks that he might be a little too protective at this point for what he's lost. "Touch her and you'll be worrying about more than her tongue," he says, words rolling tasteless from his lips. His words are flat, empty and god he sounds nothing like himself at all. He doesn't feel like himself anymore. Good to know.
	district 4 male of the 70th Hunger Games

// chases delivery word
w|oKDJtF1-4

rolled a 2 originally.

[receives stuff in sponsorship]
[irritatedly throws Glamour plushie at Circe]
[secretly cuddles the Leon plushie]
[equips stuff]
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Last Edit: Jun 18, 2015 22:00:02 GMT -5 by анзие (Anz)