slow fade {calla}
Dec 24, 2017 13:18:22 GMT -5
Post by d4a tide evros {ems} on Dec 24, 2017 13:18:22 GMT -5
when all you've got are broken dreams
just need a second chance
and everything you want to be
gets taken from your hand
Holding the wall in place was an exhausting job, yet it was one Typherius took seriously.
Mom ordered him out of the house telling him he should train for the games - why train for something when it's not a guaranteed win? He fought over and over, and the results always remained the same. Each fight his mother came out on top, and Ty would do what he was told to do. Respecting her was important because he knew every second wasn't promised. Sometimes he yearned for the chance to have a different view of the world.
Metal clashed against metal. Weapons swooshed through the air. People grunted with every attack.
Typherius didn't understand the importance of trying. If training really helped, then only the career districts would be the only districts bringing tributes home alive. Yet look at the other districts. Eleven won three years in a row. Such a disgrace.
He refused to lift a weapon unless he was reaped because otherwise it didn't mean anything.
But he stood against a wall, arms folded across his chest watching those who desired to train.
Sometimes he came to the facility simply to watch handsome men sweat, but when they turned to look at him, Typherius quickly turned away. Staring wasn't polite, yet when they asked him what he was doing, he simply stated he was learning from their moves.
Little muscle covered his body. In fact, it looked like a slab of skin as thrown over top of a skeleton. Perhaps gaining strength was important. Maybe it would give him the upper hand, but ever since he almost died, Ty hasn't been able to do much of anything. Aching bones hold him down -
I'm too young to feel this way.
A heavy sigh exits past his lips as he turns from person to person. Some devote their entire lives for this, but it never works out in their favor. What happens when they finish their last reaping and can't go on anymore? What happens when they can't volunteer for the games? All they were doing was wasting their lives away for nothing. Sure someone may have the chance to enter the games, and maybe their skills with weaponry would pay off.
But what was the cost?
Making his parents proud was all he wanted. Pleasing them was the most important part of his life, yet he has failed them in so many ways. Reminders of his past mistakes lurk in the shadows every where he turns. So if he had to spend a few hours at the training center pretending to train, that was exactly what he would do.
Yet the lies were becoming harder and harder.
Why haven't you been gaining muscles? Why are you still so scrawny?
Questions flooded his mind as he turned around pivoting on the tip of his toes. None of it mattered anyway. So he returned to what he was doing, and that involved watching others train. Maybe it would give him knowledge so he could at least explain a new move to mom and dad when he finally made it home.
just need a second chance
and everything you want to be
gets taken from your hand
Holding the wall in place was an exhausting job, yet it was one Typherius took seriously.
Mom ordered him out of the house telling him he should train for the games - why train for something when it's not a guaranteed win? He fought over and over, and the results always remained the same. Each fight his mother came out on top, and Ty would do what he was told to do. Respecting her was important because he knew every second wasn't promised. Sometimes he yearned for the chance to have a different view of the world.
Metal clashed against metal. Weapons swooshed through the air. People grunted with every attack.
Typherius didn't understand the importance of trying. If training really helped, then only the career districts would be the only districts bringing tributes home alive. Yet look at the other districts. Eleven won three years in a row. Such a disgrace.
He refused to lift a weapon unless he was reaped because otherwise it didn't mean anything.
But he stood against a wall, arms folded across his chest watching those who desired to train.
Sometimes he came to the facility simply to watch handsome men sweat, but when they turned to look at him, Typherius quickly turned away. Staring wasn't polite, yet when they asked him what he was doing, he simply stated he was learning from their moves.
Little muscle covered his body. In fact, it looked like a slab of skin as thrown over top of a skeleton. Perhaps gaining strength was important. Maybe it would give him the upper hand, but ever since he almost died, Ty hasn't been able to do much of anything. Aching bones hold him down -
I'm too young to feel this way.
A heavy sigh exits past his lips as he turns from person to person. Some devote their entire lives for this, but it never works out in their favor. What happens when they finish their last reaping and can't go on anymore? What happens when they can't volunteer for the games? All they were doing was wasting their lives away for nothing. Sure someone may have the chance to enter the games, and maybe their skills with weaponry would pay off.
But what was the cost?
Making his parents proud was all he wanted. Pleasing them was the most important part of his life, yet he has failed them in so many ways. Reminders of his past mistakes lurk in the shadows every where he turns. So if he had to spend a few hours at the training center pretending to train, that was exactly what he would do.
Yet the lies were becoming harder and harder.
Why haven't you been gaining muscles? Why are you still so scrawny?
Questions flooded his mind as he turned around pivoting on the tip of his toes. None of it mattered anyway. So he returned to what he was doing, and that involved watching others train. Maybe it would give him knowledge so he could at least explain a new move to mom and dad when he finally made it home.
