double-edged people {leticia/dustyn} blitz

D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]
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double-edged people {leticia/dustyn} blitz Oct 1, 2015 12:00:09 GMT -5

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Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Oct 1, 2015 12:00:09 GMT -5

LETICIA

The lights go down in the city, but rise again: all in my vision.

It was hard to tell whether or not I'd managed sleep, because the city seemed to stay alive through the night. Flickers of orange and yellow lights were my only guidance, but my mind burned red with worries cut into my head. Dreaming felt like the only needle and thread to patch up my wounds, but I'm made to suffer as the salts of heartbreak seep into me.

I knew that today was going to be one of the most important days of my life, especially since my days are limited.

And training: something usually simple made complex by the concept of the games. It wasn't just a place to learn, it wasn't just a place to pick up a spear and think "so that's how much they weigh"—it was a place of opportunity. Friendships drowned in water and forced to grow from dry soil, enemies hand picked to suffer the first arrow of your bow. It isn't just a room, it's more.

A palace home to an empty throne.

But it's certainly not mine for the taking.

Tiny earthquakes rumble across my body like a tide coming in and out. Nerves building up like skyscrapers, an empire growing beneath them as my eyes meet the faces of my competitors. I'm lost amongst them and the force of the brutes is dragging me in. I blink and at my feet lies tainted silver and enough sharp things to rip me into thousands of pieces.

Faces drift past me like clouds, leaving me stuck: heavy with rain and unable to free myself. An iron promise to myself echoes around my head—"no more tears"—but I can feel it rusting. Weakening with each glance at the careers, each shift to the ones with survival instinct.

The devil cackles on and my feathered wings peel from my back.

I turn around, my determination fighting with my emotion to show that I'm not just a pawn on this board. I walk over to the plants station and it seems to be the only thing making sense in a universe suffocating in obscurity.

Roses red and violets blue, berries sweeter than a spoonful of sugar and fruits deadlier than that one tribute who tastes first blood. The information files itself into my mind and for a second, it seems easy.

But in my ears rings footsteps, and I freeze.

My caramel nerves weren't made to withstand this mayhem; blades with names and double-edged people are polar opposites to that one girl who just wants to go home.

umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]
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double-edged people {leticia/dustyn} blitz Oct 2, 2015 13:15:53 GMT -5

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Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Oct 2, 2015 13:15:53 GMT -5

DUSTYN CHASE

From behind, she was Bette Chautin.

Her long hair, her tall, frail statue. She was Bette and he was in District Two and the Training Center was the one they had grown up walking to together after school. From behind, she was a reminder his life.

Face to face, she was a reminder of his death.

He had not meant to but he gripped her by the shoulders and spun her around, shock and despair and at the same time, hope filling his chest that she might actually be there with him, that he got to see her one last time before it was all over. But she was not Bette. Her eyes lacked the innocence in Bette and made up for it with ferocity-- ferocity he was sure he felt inside too. For being there, for wondering how quickly his family would begin planning his funeral.

"Bette?" He had started to say, but his voice faltered. She was not Bette. She was not Bette. She was a tribute like him. She was destined to be his enemy, or perhaps his salvation in the end. "I'm... I'm so sorry." he whispered, ghosts in his eyes that glared with confusion.

"I thought you were her." And how silly that had been. A world that would give him over to Bette was a world that did not exist. He was stronger than his bones, he realized, but not stronger than the metal that could slash them apart or the people who placed the weapons in their hands. He was one boy and he was stuck all alone. (Forever alone.)

She was not Bette.

She would never be Bette.

"My Bette." He explained. "My lovely, perfect Bette."

{table: zoe}

AND MY HOPES, THEY ARE HIGH
I MUST KEEP THEM SMALL
I TRY TO RESIST
BUT I STILL WANT IT ALL

Last Edit: Oct 2, 2015 13:18:41 GMT -5 by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]
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2,132 POSTS

last seen Nov 9, 2024 6:37:11 GMT -5

double-edged people {leticia/dustyn} blitz Oct 2, 2015 14:53:34 GMT -5

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Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Oct 2, 2015 14:53:34 GMT -5

LETICIA

My shoulders are grabbed and I'm spun around like a ballerina on a record disk.

I take a swig of air as I turn, and hold it whilst I'm met by a fist or a foot or a poison berry or a knife or something that would kill me—but there's nothing.

There's a face etched with confusion and coloured with worry. It's Dustyn Chase, the male tribute from District Two. He looked like a career. A face like a diamond found in an icy cave; his appearance left a mark in my mind. But his expression, his body language begged for me to think different, his words:

"Bette?"

No. I'm just like you. Bottling up fear and selling it to myself because it's the only option. Scared of who's around the corner and if someone is underneath the bed. Scared of the monsters which lie in an arena somewhere which are waiting for my ribs and meat.

I am not 'Bette'."

"I'm... I'm so sorry."

Silence holds me like a mother to her baby: clinging and close, every inch wanting to never let go.

"I thought you were her."

"My Bette." He explained. "My lovely, perfect Bette."

There wasn't a mentor which could teach you how to react in a situation like this. To them, it was about survival and being selfish in that act. They didn't tell you about how to handle the other tributes, as broken as they may be.

I look at the boy with ivory eyes. There's no words which I can say to him. A 'sorry' doesn't suffice for the loss of family or love. It's an excuse.

"I'm not her."

A waste of a breath. He'd realised that.

"But you can tell me about her... I'll listen."

I'll listen because I'd doubt there's anybody else who cares in this room, and it pains my heart. I'm just like him but my skeletons are kept inside. His weakened breaths of 'Bette' are distorted versions of my calls of 'Noelia'.

"If it doesn't hurt your heart too much."

umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]
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double-edged people {leticia/dustyn} blitz Oct 2, 2015 16:33:17 GMT -5

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Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Oct 2, 2015 16:33:17 GMT -5

DUSTYN CHASE

"No.: He did not say, but oh how close his tongue came to it. He wanted so badly to keep his Bette to himself, a treasure people had stepped on and broken and left shattered that he had worked so hard to rebuild. She was his, his, his, and he would be until the moment that arena drew his life from his lungs.

But he could not say no to her.

("I'm not her. But you can tell me about her... I'll listen.

If it doesn't hurt your heart too much.")

He bit his bottom lip and exhaled. Could he tell her? Would she really listen? Girls like her, girls that weren't careers, they were not known for their deceit. Usually, like with Katelynn and Saffron and Aranica and every lower-district victor, their humility was either their downfall or their saving grace. If she was truly being honest, Dustyn wondered which of these two callings she would answer.

"Okay." He agreed, and he was glad for it. "But not here. People would try to use her against me if they knew." That was a lie. In truth, he was just prolonging the talk that would soon be held. She wanted to know who Bette was? That was easy: she was simply a part of him, just as he was of her. But this girl was not Bette and he worried she would not understand.

"This way," he led.

{table: zoe}