How Much Can We Carry // Cato
Jun 30, 2016 19:07:58 GMT -5
Post by Arrows on Jun 30, 2016 19:07:58 GMT -5
Kirito Miristioma
Victor of the 70th Hunger Games
Victor of the 70th Hunger Games
Ice flows through the interwoven channels of Kirito's veins. A faint heart continues to circulate the freeze with every one of its forceful thumps. Not even a slight flicker of light sparked within the deep seas of Kirito's brown irises. Oasis was miles away leaving him stiffer than the statues he knew sat honoring the past games in the center of the City. Weak feet carried Kirito through the now memorized halls of the Training Center. His entire frame hung sullen while his hands were shoved as deeply as possible within his pockets. Audio of the current carnage blared out of every speaker Kirito past along with every visibly brightened television screen.
Only one day ago Kirito along with Katelyn and Harbinger were left mouths agape at what monstrosity of an arena their tributes were hurled into. In all of the knowledge Kirito had he could only relate what horrors his tributes faced with the 68th Hunger Games. Whose Victor Kirito knew at the time being would rather never see his face again due to his most recent psychotic snap. Just the memory of Lethe's frail neck wrangled within Kirito's Circe-like grasp made his senses fill with tides of grief. But still his grief and regret faded swiftly while he was certain karma was playing in their favor. With an arena so shockingly similar to the dark depths of the 68th's, Kirito was certain Patricia Valifierno was the perfect mentor for these games. And so far the display of cunning by her and Lethe's current tributes only seemed to prove that very point. In fact, Kirito dared to contemplate whether five games following Patricia's own victory if another member of District Five could return from hell itself.
The entire aspect and layout of the arena as a whole sent shrills of horror erupting down each of Kirito's vertebrae. Already the Hunger Games alone were pure agony mixed with complete and utter pain. There wasn't a single aspect that held a candle up to the unholy darkness that they were. Not even one life surviving was even close enough to be comparable to the dark. And now there was this arena, an arena embodying the actual vision of hell. Flames slithered out of unending chasms. Stalactites fell like bombs in complete darkness. Wild winds sent the highly humid air slicing through the unprepared tributes' bodies like razors. Then of course there was the actual beasts which roamed and thrived within the reaches of hell itself. Dragons formed from fossilized bone slaughtered lives with no mercy. Spiders larger than dogs drove their venomous fangs into the flesh of fighters. Deadly reflections spoke in stolen voices while driving their glassy blades into the skin of others. There was no escape from the terrors the Game Makers had produced, and within the center of it all was Harbinger's brother and a young girl with the mind of a genius.
It was all a complete disaster. Harbinger was crumbling as he was sending earthquakes rumbling with each of his steps. In his eyes rage born from the stealing of sacred blood was a blaring sign of slipping sanity Kirito knew far, far too well. Harbinger had always been a fighter fueled by the strongest of hearts. His bravery was carried upon every whisper of his legends back in Eleven. To so many he was a hero, but even heroes are capable of falling. It was for that reason Kirito was making his journey through the white snaking halls of such a horrid building. Only several others knew what Kirito felt, had been through what he had. Opal, Mace, Leon, Lethe, Colgate, Arbor, Aranica, and now Harbinger joined their list. Joined the ranks of those who the Capitol decided they hadn't had enough of a taste of yet. President Snow was punishing Eleven for its success by striking down those who brought it. First it was Kirito, now it was Harninger, and by hurting them he was hurting Katelyn. Every heart beat Snow silenced he hurt them stabbed all three of them. He wanted to see them all bleed out. He wanted to see them suffer. Yet it was in this suffering that they all grew stronger.
A cool breeze rippled through Kirito's freshly cut and styled hair as he walked onto the small balcony. In front of him sat Harbinger with a small drink, thankfully, in his hand and a television on the wall to their right. Here within the gates of the Capitol the sky was blue and the sun showered itself over the glassy skyscrapers. In the arena smoke filled heated darkness, it was all wrong, so wrong. "Hey Harb." Kirito said lightly as he made his way next to the larger man and rested his elbows on the railing. Kirito wasn't sure how he would help the big fella beside him but he would find a way. In his own games Harbinger felt hurt and abandoned, it was time Kirito proved that he had learned his lesson. "They really are pieces of shit aren't they? Walking around in the sun while the ones we care about suffer. I want you to know I am here for you, it may not seem like much and believe me I know that. But you were there for me one year ago and now I am gonna stand right here with you."
