Goliath Hale | D5 | FIN | Hunger Games: The RPG

Goliath Hale | D5 | FIN Jun 29, 2015 14:44:02 GMT -5

Quote

Post by flyss on Jun 29, 2015 14:44:02 GMT -5

AnD we're not all here for nothing

And we're bored with looking good
We gotta be starting something
Would you change it if you could?

Goliath Hale

Pills eat through you like acid burning holes
Through your head, your mind, your bones and enamel
Handcuffed to the bed like you’re an animal
I don’t even recognize you anymore

You might have the name of one, but you are no giant; after all, you vaguely remember getting angry at one of your peers simply because he reminded you of something that you already knew- giants are strong and powerful, not absent-minded and mentally ill.

I want to be a giant, though, you told yourself in the sheets of yesterdays words and the gallant hold of your sister's arms.

I want to be a giant, though, you told yourself in the reflection of open candle and the smoke of reds and yellows and oranges and subtle blues.

But by definition, you'll never truly be a giant.

Sure, you're reasonably tall- actually, 5'8" is smashingly tall for your age- but aside from that, you are nothing but a little girl. Violently blue eyes do nil but pierce the veils of the people surrounding you and voluptuous, rosied lips do nil but vaguely part into a pout that you never intended; you are a bouquet of carnations, a shade off from the colour everybody wants.

What particularly makes people want things, though? Perhaps it's the softened smell of cinnamon wafting through the air, or maybe even the delicacy of spirals falling down to a child's waist in a waterfall of curls. To be honest, though, you couldn't care less- it's all the same to you.

***

You pace the halls of your house with an impatience that fumes from your head with every step you take. It's not particularly apparent why you felt the need to do this, but as the pads of your feet press faint marks into the floor beneath you, you can't help but sigh longingly and twirl your thin fingers within the caress of your golden lockes. With a soft luster in your voice, you recite words you had heard on the streets quietly to yourself.

"Carbonation, Celebration, Deliberation, Dehumanization." Each syllable you speak leaves a bittersweet taste within the confines your lips and it feels increasingly obscure to you as the seconds pass. These sentences aren't coherent in any fashion, but they bring comfort to you in a way only your sister could. When you let the noise of a carefully painted "please" or a culturally mastered "darling" slip through your lips, it's like a blanket to you- after all, this seems to be the only way you ever learn anything.

"Darling, we'll make it through the week just fine, you'll see." You're like a monochrome parrot, with the repetition of speech of these homeless phrases. For a moment, you stop and contemplate that maybe this is why you don't necessarily get along with others all too well, but you conclude that your... uniqueness only provides more reason to befriend you. Like clockwork, you begin to move again, this time with a bit more rhythm to your step.

After thirty-or-so minutes, when your legs have grown far too tired and you've ran out of words to say, every inch of you comes to a stop in front of your sister's room. She's out somewhere in the district, doing whatever sixteen-year-olds do, and quietly, you let your legs collapse underneath you. With precision that takes little-to-no skill, you curl yourself into a fetal position as tight as the hair on your head; today has felt like an eternity, and you're about ready to muffle it with anything within reach, including yourself.

"Goodnight," you say to no-one in particular, but you hope that everyone hears those words and the fragility that comes with.

"Goodnight," you hear someone say back, despite the hall being empty with the exception of yourself; this doesn't faze you, though, and soon, you find yourself drifting into the pleasant fingertips of something you know far too well- sleep.

***

You aren't entirely sure of how your family carries out their daily tasks because truly, the only person who has ever mattered in your mind was yourself. How utterly selfish, you think, that only your well-being has been of concern, but no inch of you seems to find blame; after all, any time that you've merely attempted at bringing your conciousness to the surface, it's shattered and left you with more shards than what you had possessed beforehand. Even animals learn after they get hurt one too many times- pain teaches a harsh lesson, but a good one, at that.

That's all you've known for a good chunk of your life actually; pain is a concept that you've become awfully comfortable with, both mentally and more or less physically, through the fact that your head simply hurts at almost all hours of the day. This airyness that finds home in the capacity of your head enlightens you to a level that creates nothing but confusion, and frankly, it fascinates you to think that you resemble the freeness of a balloon. Freedom was always an ideal that you honoured, after all- yes, it was true that the notion tended to be scarce where you lived, but it was still there in the breeze and in the sun and in the giggle of children around you.

"Love is as free as it gets," one of your fellow classmates told you during a time where you were half-aware of your surrounding and your hair fled down your shoulders in a cascade of gold. You agreed with him immediately, an immense feeling of fullness gathering inside of you at the thought that even though you were in the cage known as district five, you were free. Luxary, this feeling was, because even if you were to lie in an open field, no cloud-haired president to tell you that you were property, the weight of your mind would drag you into the ground with a force that exceeds oblivion.

I am a star, you repeated to yourself each night before bed and likewise, iced eyes stared out of your window, calling out to your brethren in the sky that this was 100%, absolutely, positively true. It warmed you at the memory of their reassurance, returned screams and twinkles aglore in the vastness where you seem to fit in most. The stars have no duty, and the planets surely know nothing of sanity, so why should you, if you're one of them?

You are a giant, and nothing is going to drag you down.

ⒶⓀⒾ