Never Meant to Last {C'rizz/Lorenzo}

Never Meant to Last {C'rizz/Lorenzo} Jan 28, 2018 20:50:43 GMT -5

Post by kap on Jan 28, 2018 20:50:43 GMT -5

[googlefont="Oswald"][googlefont="Allura"][googlefont="Abel"]

LORENZO MOON

District Eight

He was my nephew, but I wasn't entirely sure that I cared about that fact. C'rizz was a strange boy. He thought he could talk to 'spirits'. In particular, he thought he could talk to the 'spirit' of my now deceased son, Zagreus Moon. Zagreus had been killed in the 77th Hunger Games the previous year, but it truly didn't effect me, nor did it effect my wife, Charlotte. One of my nieces, Destriianatos, decided to tell me that I was wrong for not missing Zagreus when he died. She was wrong. I had the free will to miss or not miss any person that I deemed fit. In my opinion, Zagreus was not one of the ones fit to be missed.

Surely C'rizz would eventually find out that he was wrong. He would have to. He couldn't truly speak to my dead son. When he's lying there on the ground in the arena, dying, and no one answers his pleas in the world of the living or in the world of the dead, he will realize that he really is on his own. Hopefully, he'll figure out that he was wrong in thinking that those passed could truly hear what he was saying. Perhaps he'd realized how dumb the idea of possibly being able to communicate with the deceased sounded.

I, however, as one of the boy's uncles, felt that I was obligated to visit him in the Justice Building. I hadn't visited my son, as he knew what I would have said to him. C'rizz, however, might not have known what my choice in words could possibly end up being. Therefore, I made my way into the Justice Building when the boy volunteered. It was time to speak to him. He needed to know what was going through my mind, and that he needed a reality check.

When I entered the posh looking room, my nephew was in there. He resembled my son, in a way, and therefore resembled myself, as well. I was actually quite irritated by that. I didn't want someone who was a disgrace like Zagreus or a maniac like C'rizz to look anything like me. At least I was the uncle of C'rizz, not the father. It meant that I wouldn't be seen as being as obligated to mourn him when he died. Most people think I should say if in reference to the possibility of a tribute's death in the Games. In this case, I would say when. I don't believe that there's any way that this boy could survive. Besides, I doubted that he feared death in any way if he thought the dead could still communicate with the living.

"Hello, C'rizz," I said to the boy in greeting. I was trying to sound polite. I needed to at least sound somewhat polite to being with if I wanted my words that were going to follow to get me anywhere at all. "I see you've made your own decision. What made you do it?" Perhaps he was just trying to show that he was more brave than Zagreus Moon was. Although, I doubted that.

I sincerely doubted that this boy had enough bravery in him to do such a thing. He was just a pathetic fool that hid behind his candles as he imagined he was talking to another realm of people. This just confirmed the thought in my mind that he was going to die in that arena.

He was never meant to last.

578 words
mat

SWANSKI

Never Meant to Last {C'rizz/Lorenzo} Jan 29, 2018 22:22:19 GMT -5

Post by mat on Jan 29, 2018 22:22:19 GMT -5

Each step I take in the almost silent Justice Building room paces my heartbeat back to it’s typical state. For almost five minutes, I felt pure adrenaline in every movement I made and word I spoke.

{“I VOLUNTEER!”}

The two words, one of them just a single letter, slowly became the most influential pair of words I’d ever spoken in my entire life. And do I regret either of them? Hell no. Would I have regretted volunteering with Bazima if our pact came into fruition? No. Whether I volunteered for blood or for water, for a promise or for intuition, I would not repine.

I keep a light smile upon my face as I look into my vague reflection on the glossed-desk beside me.

”Zagreus, Joshua, all my friends,” I tap my fingers, one by one, against the wood, ”I hope you’re listening,” I whisper as if Zagreus Moon sat in the desk’s chair as he likely did one year ago. ”And I hope you’re proud.”

When I reached the escort and his ear-splitting microphone, I told District Eight not to be afraid of death. Whether they listened or not, I do not know, and whether they had the opportunity to hear over my mother’s weeping, I could not tell. Living life to the fullest should guarantee that there is no room for fear of death, and without the fear of death, we can be happy and worry-free.

I believe that living without the fear of death can happen, and someday it will.

If I have to bleed and die for the agenda to be fulfilled, then so be it. But I will not flinch if a blade comes toward my skin, and I will not cry if it touches. I cannot be afraid to bleed or hurt or die, it’s not who I am. It’s not how I’ve trained myself to be. It’s not-

Three knocks upon the room’s door break up my rambles. Out comes a man of which I wish I had no relation.

Uncle Lorenzo!” my enthusiasm and c’rizzma is not genuine, for I am not pleased to see him wasting time and space in the room with me, scaring away his son. He does not believe, and in fact he is the example of the person I most want to change- he’s the one I most want to believe in what I believe. The only thing we have in common is that we were two of the select few that did not mourn Zagreus Moon. I, because I know he is not gone, and he, because Lorenzo Moon felt nothing toward his son.

{“Hello, C’rizz,”} the insincerity in his voice is just as recognizable as my own. I look at him from the side of my eye, almost as if I’m acting as an inattentive predator, waiting to strike upon prey when they are least expecting. His strike, however, comes first.

Without hesitation, he asks the question that I expected most to come in with, {“I see you’ve made your own decision. What made you do it?”}

I press lightly on my tongue before giving out a chuckle and smirk.

”The boy was afraid of death, darling,” I tap my fingers on the glossed desk once again. ”I’ve felt and heard and looked at death with my own eyes, Uncle.”

I stare directly at him, seeing Zagreus Moon in his eyes but not in his heart.

”I’d rather myself die without fear than another die with it,”

Do I say something more to him?

I feel as if Zagreus can still hear me.

These could be the last words that my Uncle Lorenzo hears me say..

I say more.

”Sort of like how you and Aunt Charlotte made your son fear getting hit and yelled at every day.”

I’m satisfied.