never say goodbye {f.o.h vs. lost boys} Day III
Jul 15, 2018 1:52:08 GMT -5
Post by Arrows on Jul 15, 2018 1:52:08 GMT -5
It comes as a wretched realization, a rancid reminder. He does not see the sword slyly slinking through the shadows. He does not notice the small steps sprinting suddenly towards him. All he knows is the icy kiss of metal’s cruel teeth to his skin. All he knows is that moment before darkness and death engulf the illumination of his gentle eyes. All he knows is that the silent stalking shadow with a sword swift and shaking is the final figment of his existence, of his life.
My mind melts to December. Winter wind nips viciously at our noses. My siblings shake and shutter from the grueling gusts praying for a scent of spring to soon be carried on the back of a breeze. Terror taints our eyes as they lie frozen, fixated on the body of a boy not far younger than us. Lifeless he lies beneath blankets ripped and ragged from the price of poverty. Alone his eyes stare towards the shining stars which seem so far away from one now lost into darkness. I pray for his venturing soul searching somewhere through the dimensions for a new home. In front of a sniffling sobbing sister I close his eyes to set him into eternal rest. He was a reminder as well, a reminder of the nearness of death.
A stifling sob freshly formed on the lips of innocence snaps me free from my past. Disbelief and terror cling to the skin of Ollie, a silent shriek thwarted in her throat by tension. Before her lies the epitome and the apex of what the Hunger Games are, a game of death. It doesn’t cross my mind before the first wells of water begin leaking down her rounded cheeks, that this might be her first encounter with death’s demands. Despite the despair and shock stirring within my own chest, I rise above the waves of harsh emotions. I grip tightly onto the life raft that is only a twelve-year-old girl. I put her needs before my own devilish desires to completely crumble and shatter succumbing to sorrow.
Small and swarmed in sadness Ollie slumps to the side of the boy she barely knows. Her hands heave in short shifts as pleas for a return of life to a depleted body. I am numb watching how such wickedness can be sewn into the heart beat of life itself. I watch for seconds which seem like centuries before I break down my barriers. I slowly settle myself to the scarlet stained forest floor. I let my hands hold his head softly before taking Ollie’s hands next in my own. I bring her fingers, small and without scars, to the neck of the chilling corpse once known as Gabriel.
“Do you feel that?” I say soft with my voice trembling terribly. “When it’s still like that, when there’s no beat. We don’t wake back up. He’s not waking back up.”
Ollie’s body breaks bent by the heaviness of such a cruel lesson. Tears threaten the stern sanctuary I’ve made my face but I do not let them find the freedom to fall. Instead my body moves. My arms extend around the center of sobbing that Ollie has become. For the first time since rising out of our old world into this new one of wickedness, her small figure is frail and lacking will. Like a wounded bird fallen to the forest floor, she needs another to bring her upon their back and into the safety of the sky. I bend before her wrapping her wings around my neck and her legs around my waist. As I rise with her now fastened to me, I falter but do not fall. She is heavy and my body yearns for the relief of the cold water, but for her I push the pain and the panic aside.
“We need to get the hell out this place, now.” I say looking towards the pool of spilling scarlet Cesar has become. My teeth tilt slightly against my lower lip. “And when we get away from here I’ll help fix you up.” The words nearly bring bile bursting from my mouth. Instead of focusing on them, I focus on the soul still sniffling tucked away against my back. “It’s okay Ollie, you’re allowed to cry because sometimes things are sad. Today things were sad.”
Morning stirs shock into my spine. Suddenly my eyes are wide and reeling at the discovery that I actually fell asleep. My eyes radiating a beam of panic find the calm yet startling stare of Cesar just several feet away against a tree. His words are short and simple, and surprisingly comforting despite the danger his presence produces. “Everyone has to rest at some point. I watched out last night.” Although my heart is threatening to combust within the confines of its ribcage cell, my head dips in thanks towards the career I once thought of as a Beast. Perhaps there is more to a trained killer than one would imagine.
Ollie wakes last with her head of blonde hair spreading in all directions across my lap. As she sits up from sleep I use my hands to slip the golden vines hovering over her face off to the side. Her sobbing has stopped, but still I can see new pain has now tainted the purity that once protected her spirit. The longer she lives as I live and breathe for, the more dipped in the dismay of darkness she becomes.
An idea ignites inside my mind as I ask Ollie to turn away from me. It takes only a few minutes of muscle memory to give her lovely French braid, a braid just like Kestrel’s. My heart heaves but the smile on my face doesn’t fade or falter.
“You are beautiful my little golden princess.”
I’m not sure how much longer after that we leave the black barricading branches of the tree behind. A singular entity expands into an entire forest filled with life leaping from every creature to every crevice. Soft songs spin through the air launching from the beaks of birds sitting high atop the branches above our heads. The serenity of the scene is so captivating I almost miss the cacophonous contrast of approaching danger. Twigs snap, critters scuttle, leaves rustle. An arm maneuvers Ollie behind me drawing the attention of my allies and my other adjusts a spear into my hand.
In silence, I watch as our inevitable encounter grows ever closer. I listen as the cacophonous symphony of steps becomes ever louder. I go cold as the careers and a boy from three emerge from the brush. We have been found by the hunters, but we cannot become the prey.
The spear shaking in my hands angles towards the boy from One. His demeanor is deadly and his group powerful. Every internal instinct tells me to run except for one, the one that knows our only chance at survival is striking first. I have no choice but to listen to my own logic, but I wish it wasn’t so terrifying.
My mind melts to December. Winter wind nips viciously at our noses. My siblings shake and shutter from the grueling gusts praying for a scent of spring to soon be carried on the back of a breeze. Terror taints our eyes as they lie frozen, fixated on the body of a boy not far younger than us. Lifeless he lies beneath blankets ripped and ragged from the price of poverty. Alone his eyes stare towards the shining stars which seem so far away from one now lost into darkness. I pray for his venturing soul searching somewhere through the dimensions for a new home. In front of a sniffling sobbing sister I close his eyes to set him into eternal rest. He was a reminder as well, a reminder of the nearness of death.
A stifling sob freshly formed on the lips of innocence snaps me free from my past. Disbelief and terror cling to the skin of Ollie, a silent shriek thwarted in her throat by tension. Before her lies the epitome and the apex of what the Hunger Games are, a game of death. It doesn’t cross my mind before the first wells of water begin leaking down her rounded cheeks, that this might be her first encounter with death’s demands. Despite the despair and shock stirring within my own chest, I rise above the waves of harsh emotions. I grip tightly onto the life raft that is only a twelve-year-old girl. I put her needs before my own devilish desires to completely crumble and shatter succumbing to sorrow.
Small and swarmed in sadness Ollie slumps to the side of the boy she barely knows. Her hands heave in short shifts as pleas for a return of life to a depleted body. I am numb watching how such wickedness can be sewn into the heart beat of life itself. I watch for seconds which seem like centuries before I break down my barriers. I slowly settle myself to the scarlet stained forest floor. I let my hands hold his head softly before taking Ollie’s hands next in my own. I bring her fingers, small and without scars, to the neck of the chilling corpse once known as Gabriel.
“Do you feel that?” I say soft with my voice trembling terribly. “When it’s still like that, when there’s no beat. We don’t wake back up. He’s not waking back up.”
Ollie’s body breaks bent by the heaviness of such a cruel lesson. Tears threaten the stern sanctuary I’ve made my face but I do not let them find the freedom to fall. Instead my body moves. My arms extend around the center of sobbing that Ollie has become. For the first time since rising out of our old world into this new one of wickedness, her small figure is frail and lacking will. Like a wounded bird fallen to the forest floor, she needs another to bring her upon their back and into the safety of the sky. I bend before her wrapping her wings around my neck and her legs around my waist. As I rise with her now fastened to me, I falter but do not fall. She is heavy and my body yearns for the relief of the cold water, but for her I push the pain and the panic aside.
“We need to get the hell out this place, now.” I say looking towards the pool of spilling scarlet Cesar has become. My teeth tilt slightly against my lower lip. “And when we get away from here I’ll help fix you up.” The words nearly bring bile bursting from my mouth. Instead of focusing on them, I focus on the soul still sniffling tucked away against my back. “It’s okay Ollie, you’re allowed to cry because sometimes things are sad. Today things were sad.”
<><><><>
Morning stirs shock into my spine. Suddenly my eyes are wide and reeling at the discovery that I actually fell asleep. My eyes radiating a beam of panic find the calm yet startling stare of Cesar just several feet away against a tree. His words are short and simple, and surprisingly comforting despite the danger his presence produces. “Everyone has to rest at some point. I watched out last night.” Although my heart is threatening to combust within the confines of its ribcage cell, my head dips in thanks towards the career I once thought of as a Beast. Perhaps there is more to a trained killer than one would imagine.
Ollie wakes last with her head of blonde hair spreading in all directions across my lap. As she sits up from sleep I use my hands to slip the golden vines hovering over her face off to the side. Her sobbing has stopped, but still I can see new pain has now tainted the purity that once protected her spirit. The longer she lives as I live and breathe for, the more dipped in the dismay of darkness she becomes.
An idea ignites inside my mind as I ask Ollie to turn away from me. It takes only a few minutes of muscle memory to give her lovely French braid, a braid just like Kestrel’s. My heart heaves but the smile on my face doesn’t fade or falter.
“You are beautiful my little golden princess.”
I’m not sure how much longer after that we leave the black barricading branches of the tree behind. A singular entity expands into an entire forest filled with life leaping from every creature to every crevice. Soft songs spin through the air launching from the beaks of birds sitting high atop the branches above our heads. The serenity of the scene is so captivating I almost miss the cacophonous contrast of approaching danger. Twigs snap, critters scuttle, leaves rustle. An arm maneuvers Ollie behind me drawing the attention of my allies and my other adjusts a spear into my hand.
In silence, I watch as our inevitable encounter grows ever closer. I listen as the cacophonous symphony of steps becomes ever louder. I go cold as the careers and a boy from three emerge from the brush. We have been found by the hunters, but we cannot become the prey.
The spear shaking in my hands angles towards the boy from One. His demeanor is deadly and his group powerful. Every internal instinct tells me to run except for one, the one that knows our only chance at survival is striking first. I have no choice but to listen to my own logic, but I wish it wasn’t so terrifying.
Dove attacks Volkner Meinhardt // Javelins
r7lZ7dKyjavelin
{SHALLOW CUT ON BACK OF HEAD -- 4.5 damage}
OOC: Title credited to J.M. Barrie in his novel Peter Pan
javelinOOC: Title credited to J.M. Barrie in his novel Peter Pan
[/presto]
[/presto]
