Damned If I Do, Damned If I Don't {C'Rizz & Apollo}
Feb 6, 2018 22:04:00 GMT -5
Post by Cameo {RIP Charlie} on Feb 6, 2018 22:04:00 GMT -5
Apollo Salon
The silence is overbearing. The lack of responsibilities is appalling. The absence of need is excruciating. Desperation pulls the direction of my spine horizontal, lifting it from the overloaded comfort of this damned Capitol bed. Fingers weave through my brows, washing my palms across my features, in a plead to overcome to the heaviness of my eyes crying for slumber. It was assumed the sole benefit of this unforgiving journey would be a final retirement to rest, while in actuality I achieve such less here - no such assumptions should ever be made. Even the attempt of sitting upon the hardened ground with a lean upon a nearby wall, as would often be my permanent nightly position back in my District, seeks sleeps to no avail.
With stiffened bones, and no cry for my aid to breach, I crumble from the ongoing failure - retreating to wandering the building as though in search for a weeping being in crave of my support. Thoughts wander to those desperate nights that Salem would convince me to the outside realm where the moon’s gaze strikes. Within the night’s chill, upon the misty grass, and beneath the radiating stars, the peace would consistently relax my drained eyes if only for a few moments. And without realization my steps clack against the rooftop’s floor, where a similar sensation rattles across my skin.
Another’s figure is joined upon by my intrusion, yet my feet don’t crave to halt my trespassing of space. “Guess I’m not the only one unable to sleep.” Is whispered more so to myself, though to the Stranger as well. And without permission granted, a seat is taken by myself to gaze upon the city quieting from yet another night of celebratory partying. How many past souls has sat upon this very bench in discussion of how they were pawns to the Capitol now? Completely ignoring the horrific life they’ve probably come from, in distaste for their current situation. It’s also a wonder of what keeps this mysterious fellow Tribute from Eight up as well. A similar perspective to my own on fearing for the ones left behind? Or an opposite one in a disbelieve to the unthinkable the Capitol has done once more?
“If I hear another complaint cursing the Capitol for these Games, I think I might lose it…” Abruptly spews from my thoughts to actually verbalized words, though a petite smile joins across my lips nonetheless. “No offense if that’s your opinion. Just seems the Capitol damns each of us long before we’re even reapable.” Is explained, while internally I consider all of the youngster who have it much worse then the swift slaughter we’re being fattened in spoils to endure.
