ignite the caliber {muse & natasha}

Crashing down like an avalanche. Greys and whites mixing together onto a canvas of as his dreams of the night before clashed with the screens that showed him. Lucas O'Hara. A hurricane of emotions that swarmed between them, even if Lucas didn't remember him. Dreams of a hurricane stuck within the confines of a lost man. Birthed by the two words that came forth from O'Hara's lips. This was how the world was meant to be. Scorched with burnt land that held the dreams of the living and the dead. Greys and whites turn into black in his mind. Black splatters of loss stuck in the confines of a tortured artist.

Black cracks of beautiful dreams that once used to fill his mind, seal up with a white flash of pain that spreads throughout his fingers. The white collision of emotions is painted forth on the canvas. Eyes staring back at him as the flirty words had left his lips when they had first met. A face left and destroyed by the weather that had followed the reaping. This was the reality of the world that surrounded him. Burnt land with dreams and wishes that could never become real. A splash of green comes forth with the wreckage of trees that represent his past of loneliness that haunts him.

The screens showed him of the day. Wounds taken to both of the remaining District Nine tributes. Helios Delacroix, a man of god, even for being apart of the underworld that lies within the confines of the district. An ever slight breeze of wind and heavy thunder that seems to scream to the gods above. Prayers of a broken man clear upon his face. Silence for the Delacroix who watched their own get slashed. A painting would come forth later, when he wasn't lacking sleep and emotion. An end will come to them, even if it isn't the one that they would want for him.

Black splatters in his mind take over, until he has to stop halfway through. Hands shake in anger or guilt, he couldn't tell which lately. All he knew was that he couldn't stay there with the blinding white pain in his soul. Doors slam open and shut as he marches away from the home. Parents screaming at him to stop. His father's threat leaving his lips quickly, "Don't leave when we're talking to you! If you do, I will take away your canvases and paint." Not now. Not when he was so vulnerable to colors that send him into a land of dreams, even if they were nightmares. Escaping was the only option he had left. He needed to leave before his breath went uneven and the tears pour.

"Muse Stratos get your ass back inside now!"

Ears don't listen. Body defies the words of his father as he runs out the door. Nothing in his hands, but his jacket. Warmth pulls him into a comfort as the cool air hits his face. Feet take him to the spot. There's no one there. Tears fall around his face as he remembers the wounds upon O'Hara's skin. This was how it was meant to be. Blood wounds of the first person he crushes on. A hurricane of scorched land left behind by the other artist. Beauty in the chaos of death that Lucas could see. Alone and breaking, Muse slumps down a wall. Waiting for the person to come around a corner.

Blonde hair of a familiar woman catches his eyes. Tear stained cheeks vanishing with the cool air. Jacket tight around his body as the small smile pulls at his cheeks. A gun that was probably hidden where she had it last from what he assumed. Hand waving to her as his heart puts itself together with red paint and white pain. Out of his element, he moves forward, words a whisper upon his lips as he makes a finger gun. A smile upon his lips with a look of innocence that was slowly dying away. This was how the world was. Mind wanting to get rid of the feeling that hides within his heart and gut comes up with an idea. Finger gun pointed at her as speaks.

"This is a robbery, Miss Delacroix. You're gonna have to do what I say."

The wink that falls from his face adds to the feeling of friendship that attaches itself between them. Thoughts cross his mind of the white and grey avalanche of emotions that was falling upon him. Drowning under white pain and black splattering of the mind, he's begging to reach forward, but hides his true emotions behind the smile on his face. Blond hair and striking features that adds to the dangerous mystery that is Natash Delacroix. Words fall from his lips as the idea comes forth. Nerves within his veins. A question upon his lips. White pain and a hurricane flooding his thoughts and vision. An escape was needed and Natasha Delacroix could be the answer for him.

"I want you to teach me how to shoot. If you want to, that is?"

Memory of Lucas speaking the two words that sent his world spiraling into the eye of the storm, waiting for the inevitable destruction that would set throughout his body. Black, white, and red that would destroy every piece of himself in moments as he prayed to a god if they were listening. Finger gun lowered as he feels the nerves coming forth now. Broken emotions and silence flowing in his veins. Black splatters of terror that sweep him into submission were gone. Only Nat and him remain, like two lives meant to cross time and time again. Voice only just a whisper as the broken emotions leak through the cracks.

"I could really use a distraction right now."