vague lies { avalon } ; ic tutoring
Dec 31, 2015 10:55:47 GMT -5
Post by thompson harvard - d2b - arc on Dec 31, 2015 10:55:47 GMT -5
Wrapping his right hand around his left, rubbing them together over the swollen red spots that had danced his skin after such a grip placed on the axe. He had forgotten to bring his gloves that day at work. He had normally found himself working alone in the forest because that was the best way to get more production done; to get more money for his family to crawl on, with more days of survival in this world of destined deaths. Daniel isn’t a fan of those tales, the ones that spoke about a life where everything was better where everything was happy-- they were only distractions from the real world that is much more horrid than the tales told.
Daniel Tate was not one for a game of lives as it only consisted of the slip of names being claimed for death, the others to slowly slip away from their grasps due to the life that most people live. He questions why others attempts and try to keep going for who do they need to live for and why do they bother trying if we all are going to breath that last breath, and once that last breath is let out the body will become limp and gone with life, gone with the wind. His mother had yelled at him, saying that he’d been locked inside his room far too long and he needs to find somewhere to go and spend his days, somewhere to waste his life away because right now he feels as if there is no life to live; no life to treasure inside of his bones.
He had never spent a day looking for someone but today might be a very good chance to do that as he was walking through the district-- (”Are you Sue Tate?”) No. He is not a hero, is not a warrior. The half-brother was a weakling, someone who knew nothing of the essence of being a hero because he never fought to his very last dying breath. He never fell into the world that is a dome made to fit twenty four people but billions of nightmares to come flying towards the one who escapes that dome as a victor with a crown placed upon their head as a trophy of murder.
Figures that could resemble shadows lay under him as they follow him, the shadow being black and following his every moment as if it were to be a mirror. Though there are no mirrors that he needs to look in because his face shows him all; he is broken. Not to be fixed. The days of knowing that he had a sibling that he never knew became a warrior and a fighter, someone who thrived for the District. His eyes trained along the ground he would walk. Daniel was looking for someone; he didn’t know who.
Someone to treasure? Possibly. Though the definite answer was someone to talk to, the foreign concept of talking to someone other than his raging mother. Finding himself coming to an abrupt stop after running into someone he’d look up at the figure in front of him. ”Sorry, didn’t see you there.” His words were mumbled but clear enough for the other to notice.
Just like his father’s mumbled lies, though vague enough for Daniel to never notice.
wc; 551
MADE BY VEL OF GS AND ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0