Fools | Caine & Mercy | Blitz
Feb 4, 2018 23:01:29 GMT -5
Post by Tom on Feb 4, 2018 23:01:29 GMT -5
Ma used to tell him that he had a careful eye. Something about being able to see the emotions upon someone because of the way they moved or held themselves. Days spent upon a bench with a younger Abel tied to the arm as ma and him spent hours watching people, guessing what was going on. Games played upon a simple bench that he enjoyed too much back then. Little things that he missed the most about home. A sigh escapes his throat as home was a far away place now. Something that he couldn't reach within seconds anymore. Arms folded across his chest as his hat is bowed slightly to hide himself from the other gazes in the room. Hands messing with a rope in his hands as he ties another Honda knot again and again. A pleasant distraction from the place that they move around in.
Faces of tributes that may never have another breath again once the games begin. Cold dead eyes that would be staring back at their family with regrets never said. Brown eyes glance up as he scans the tributes one by one with a careful eye. Unknown faces of people like him, but none of them were like him. Not a single person could tell his story of life and family, only he could. A mother who cared about her children so much so that she used to force them to play childish games that they outgrew. A father who wanted his children to become heirs to his business or let them follow their dreams in life. Brothers who looked out for one another in every situation, except the one that he was in.
None of them would save him like he would have done for them.
Selfishness wasn't something he wanted to have upon his skin. Instead, he carries the damned words of District Ten's male tribute upon his skin. The victor's families spared from the games that were meant for their blood, only to pass it on to his own. Winchester's weren't popular. Hell, his family were outcasts in the public's eyes, even if all they ever did was ranching. Either way, he's in the capitol, training for a games that he wanted to survive, but might not. A sigh escapes from his throat as he speaks to the air gently, not caring who hears.
"Fools. That's all we are."
Faces of tributes that may never have another breath again once the games begin. Cold dead eyes that would be staring back at their family with regrets never said. Brown eyes glance up as he scans the tributes one by one with a careful eye. Unknown faces of people like him, but none of them were like him. Not a single person could tell his story of life and family, only he could. A mother who cared about her children so much so that she used to force them to play childish games that they outgrew. A father who wanted his children to become heirs to his business or let them follow their dreams in life. Brothers who looked out for one another in every situation, except the one that he was in.
None of them would save him like he would have done for them.
Selfishness wasn't something he wanted to have upon his skin. Instead, he carries the damned words of District Ten's male tribute upon his skin. The victor's families spared from the games that were meant for their blood, only to pass it on to his own. Winchester's weren't popular. Hell, his family were outcasts in the public's eyes, even if all they ever did was ranching. Either way, he's in the capitol, training for a games that he wanted to survive, but might not. A sigh escapes from his throat as he speaks to the air gently, not caring who hears.
"Fools. That's all we are."
