The Verge of an Emergency // [3/4 BARFs]

Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]
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9,625 POSTS
Pronouns: She/Her
last seen Nov 5, 2024 0:27:19 GMT -5

cameron stood in line for an hour for a stupid ride for me <3 best <3

The Verge of an Emergency // [3/4 BARFs] Jun 18, 2015 18:16:52 GMT -5

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Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Jun 18, 2015 18:16:52 GMT -5

[googlefont="Arya:400"]

	CIRCE LYON
	Her heart slammed against her rib cage, harder than it had before the Bloodbath countdown. Then, she had been Jaime, trapped in a glass coffin. Now, she stood at the edge of the car, holding onto Nat and Orion with either hand. “On three,” she yelled above the screaming wind. Her heat raced ahead of the count, galloping away, looking for another way off. But there was no guarantee that wherever the train stopped would be a good place for them to spend the night. This was as good a plan as any they’d had. Which was to say it was total shit. “One, Two…” She stepped forward the space between two and three, but her body did not move against the weight of Nat's hand, holding firm. On her other side, she felt only air. "ORION!" She screamed into the emptiness, her voice matching the squeal of the tracks. She leapt after him. When she fell, she did not think about perfecting her landing or protecting her many injuries. She watched the shadow beneath her, Orion Hammerfell tumbling down and down. Circe landed on her right knees and shoulder. She rolled forward awkwardly, lacking the grace to bring herself to her feet while protecting her chest and jaw from further injury. She stumbled, pushing herself to halt with raw palms. When she finally found the balance to stand and turn, she had only one thing left on her mind. "You are not leaving me," she hissed at Nat Krigel, more of a threat than an offer of comfort. "And we are going to find La Torre and Orion. Today." Not a question. Not a request. A decision. She needed to find La Torre, the last person to speak to Elya, and Orion Hammerfell, the only person who could save her from herself. WIP Turbines Net RE WIP
	district 2 female of the 70th Hunger Games

Last Edit: Jun 18, 2015 19:25:11 GMT -5 by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]

credit umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

credit ✨ zozo.

- chars -

анзие (Anz)
Retired Staff

1,547 POSTS
last seen Jun 14, 2015 16:34:46 GMT -5

probably away

The Verge of an Emergency // [3/4 BARFs] Jun 18, 2015 18:35:15 GMT -5

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Post by анзие (Anz) on Jun 18, 2015 18:35:15 GMT -5

[googlefont="Arya:400"]

	NAT KRIGEL
	So far, everything has gone really wrong. It's not even wrong in the sense that he's fucked up something and this is all his fault; it's wrong because everything is out of his control, leaving the fate of his life and the lives of the people he's starting to care about hanging on a single, woven thread. One snip of the Gamemaker's scissors, and they'll all fall down. Except one. He's beginning to doubt his ability to survive, what with Elya dead Gunner gone Orion gone Circe trapped - if he were pessimistic enough Nat would think this some elaborate plan to be rid of his presence once and for all. Except that Circe says, "Tell me you aren’t going to leave. Lie to me, if you have to." He doesn't have to. Raising his crossbow, Nat places his finger on the trigger, takes aim, and- The turbine spins a little too fast and his bolt falls harmlessly to the ground. Circe's snarl is less forgiving: “If you shoot me, the last thing I’ll do is fall and squish you.” Sheepishly, he lowers his bow. "Sorry," he says, brow furrowed as he stares up at his remaining ally in the spinning net, round and round she goes and Nat's helpless watching. He's helpless, in all, but that should not come as a surprise to him. Have I ever been in control here? A bitter smile curves his lips. Is anyone, really? Elya had fallen, ripped from life with a single fling of a well-placed axe - her body now the ashes they breathe. Orion had fallen, ripped out of their reach to land with maybe a sickening thud under the roar of the speeding train. Orion had fallen and he wasn't getting up - not if... not if he's gone for good. And with Gunner missing, it's just us two. Taking a slow, shuddering breath, Nat sinks to the ground, wrapping his arms around his knees. He can't lose someone else today. He can't. But what use is he here, if he couldn't stop the axe from reaching Elya's skull, if he couldn't grab Orion's out-of-reach hand, if he can't bring Circe back down? It's the gentle clatter of things falling from his backpack that has Nat turning around, his hastily stuffed possessions having finally freed themselves. Thoughtlessly, Nat starts gathering them up one by one: the empty bottle that he shakes hopefully once more, the pathetic doll of his brother he spends two minutes picking dirt from its cloth skin, the long coil of rope, the medical kit that he quietly pokes through before firmly closing and tucking it back into his knapsack, the- Oh. The doll of that damned Gamemaker, what's-his-name... Glamour. Kinkade, if Nat remembers correctly. Even now, Nat can hear his silky voice like a snake in his brain: "Oh, little Krigel? I do hope you're right and you last a very long time. I bet a whole pile of money on you. So you see? You win, I win. ...I'll be sure to spend every penny on your brother's pleasure. And if you die, well, I win then too, don't I? May the odds be ever in your favor." Nat's fingers tighten on the doll, creases forming around his grasp as the doll struggles and gasps for breath - or maybe it was just Nat. Gamemaker. Damn him. Damn them. None of them existing here are in control - and if he's right, then none of them ever will be. It's your* fault they're gone!* Their fault. Teeth bared shoulders shaking Nat's ragged nails tear into the doll; even then it's not enough to see his stuffed guts spilling from these bullet wounds. It's not enough to fling the thing to the ground as his breath comes in pants of something that's a mix of grief and all the things he can't name. It's not retribution this way. It's not retribution until he's dead. "Gunner," he says, and distinctly a part of him knew she'd arrived - but his mind can't picture exactly when. His mind doesn't care exactly when. "Do you have fire?" It's the flint and the pliers she hands to him, the tools bloodstained but fitting, somehow. Nat doesn't think about whose blood this might be - Gunner's, Elya's, someone's. It's not any of them he needs dead. The flint sparks against the pliers, and the spark turns into a flame on the cloth doll. The flame spreads, consuming Glamour in his hands. The image sharpens - and blurs, the light of fire dancing in his eyes. In his mind's eye, he sees the mannequin with his brother's name - and Nat wishes he'd used the Gamemaker's instead. He steps back, letting the doll crumble into ashes at his feet, watching as the wind sweeps what remains of the thing from his grasp. I hope you burn. But even then, it's not enough.
	district 4 male of the 70th Hunger Games

[borrows flammable things from gunner]
[burns glamour plushie]
[collects actually medicinal plants]
[uses one on circe at some point]
[gives one to circe]

Last Edit: Jun 26, 2015 13:02:27 GMT -5 by анзие (Anz)

✨ zozo. made this. she is my spirit animal.

basic table guide

L△LIA
RP Tutor

3,574 POSTS

last seen Jun 24, 2019 15:25:10 GMT -5

BOOM SH△KALAKA

The Verge of an Emergency // [3/4 BARFs] Jun 20, 2015 3:29:36 GMT -5

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Post by L△LIA on Jun 20, 2015 3:29:36 GMT -5

GUNNER LA TORRE

now girl keep it g
know you speak a little freak
i can hear it in yo' accent
so tell me
can you understand my language

Killer filler. This is what happens when you fall asleep on your keyboard. I'll get something written for this during my 4 hour car ride tomorrow, lol.

"Don't worry, Kitten. I'll be underneath you all night long."

Folds her stripper cash into paper planes and aims for Circe's ass. Always aiming for ass. Obviously.

[gives Circe her sharpie]
[gives Nat her weed]
[receives shin guards and combat boots via sponsorship]