looking for heaven [day6: Stitch/Ollie/Andy]

sick of all these people talking,

sick of all this noise,
tired of all these cameras flashing,
sick of being poised

Fear penetrates the moment the soul of her shoes kisses the embrace of the water’s welcoming waves. The abyss’s greeting retracts momentarily, while still the young Blonde is left in paralyzing panic. Pools of water are scarce back within the home of the tenth district, leaving it as a foreign, dangerous realm to the small girl from there. But even within the rare joyous events that her foster siblings would travel long and far to an innocent lake, or even within the mandatory dips into a small tub to get clean, anxiety would consume her to a rattling demeanor at the touch of a water’s depth. Here there’s no room for fear however, or even a second of protest against a task that was vital to survival. And with her entire existence shaking beyond belief, a word doesn’t follow to vocalize her distaste - before she accepts their new endeavor.

For every minute that passes, her heart stammers to an increasing rate - threats beating her pulse that the depth may choose to suck her down to her demise at any moment it chooses. There’s a voice screaming for her to retreat, to discover an escape, while none lingers in sight. The water seems to stretch to the end of time, though back on the small island such was proven false. Any which way she assists Dove in their claw to a haven, though there’s also a need within the Blonde to curl up and accept defeat…allow the water to succumb her to her most dire fear, and drift her off in the least violent way. But she’d never do that to Dove, or Zeke, or her Foster Siblings, and especially not to Bella Rose - though her cowardliness probably wouldn’t have allowed her to anyways.

Her feet stumble onto the rocky shore, the past leaving her as clumsy as Dove is with one leg. Her own legs crumble to allow her knees to collapse upon the dry ground bellow, fingers curled around thighs, and lungs expanding and contracting at a harsh rate. Now that she’s managed from the water’s grasp, it still feels as though it may kill her. And if that doesn’t, the approaching Tributes surely will.

Three tributes they’ve battled against two too many times breach land in the same area as them. Eyes crease in attempt to absorb their features past the harsh sun rays, and though one flutters of decent security - the others do not. Automatically Ollie’s stammering back to her feet, to return her close proximity to the ones she’s learned, in such a short time, to call family. Her shoulders retreat beneath one of Dove’s arms to support her, and also cower behind her if commanded to. But such an instruction doesn’t order from her Five’s sweet tune, as a silent agreement for momentary peace registers from all. The true hunger of these games growls from each and every stomach. And with dangers risking their need to fulfill such a necessity, they remain as one for just a single meal.

Gentle chatter and light chews surround the group that’ll demand peace within their numbers. It’s difficult for the youngest to consume the necessity past her nausea from all that’s occurred, but she does despite. And once her interior refuses another bite, she presses past her hesitation to sit beside another who isn’t Dove or Zeke.

There’s no telling if Akira saved Dove’s life. He didn’t enforce his friend to not harm her. His words didn’t seek to protect her. But he did fight against another going after Zeke. He did apologize for his inability to remove his friend from attacking Dove. It was here that he sat with them, his friends included, to share a meal and ensure another didn’t impose upon them. And Dove is still alive after all. Sweetness seemed to secretly radiate from him, which was a rarity within such a place.

A tiny rock balances pristinely within Ollie’s petite left hand, as innocence radiates from her in showing Akira her discovery. “This is a trickster rock.” She shares in a soft tone, as if normal volume may attract unwanted guest. And to illustrate her point, she crushes the mere dirt, that’s formed to look like a rock, within her grasp. “Lots of muck likes to play trickster rocks like that, they’re probably just jealous they can’t be rocks themselves.” Is explained, before she discovers a beautiful flat rock with a bright grey complexion by her feet.

As if she had the capability of breaking the perfect rock, as her weapon’s shattered bones, she delicately picks the piece of earth up. “This ones super pretty! We don’t have many like this at all back in my district!” A smile slithers across her lips at the discovery, before she takes a quick bite of the rock. “Yep yep, it’s a good one!” She shares before handing it over to Akira. “You keep it, I have plenty of rocks everywhere. It’s good to bite them to make sure they’re good, but never eat it!” Her words pass over as if precious knowledge, recalling the time one of her mommies instructed her to never eat a rock - and despite that recollection being one of sorrow, her grin doesn’t fade from her features.

Purely small discussions, and final bites, are had before mutual decisions decide it’d be best to split. For once her heart fluttered with joy at the bloodless reunion two groups could compromise on. Though now her frown sets knowing that such an occasion would be the last within this nightmare of a reality.

-

Silence rumbles within the return to their group number of three that they’ve possessed for far too long. The Blonde’s bottom lip rumbles in memory of Ces, and the odd turn of events that transferred her into fearing him to admiring him - to desperately wanting to protect, though her weak stature never could. It’s almost been a week since embarking on this place, and yet thirteen tributes still remain… while there’s also no doubt it’ll stay as such for long. A new fear creeps in how the Makers of this Game will alter such to ensure their show will not extend too long, would hate to bore the Capitol’s Citizens. And with such anxiety Ollie’s pure brown eyes transfer her gaze to both Dove and Zeke, wondering on how much longer all of them could possibly last.

Patience and determination wills Zeke’s desire for them to survive, as he diligently repairs Dove’s stump of missing limb. The newly old, or oldly new, pain returns back to Dove’s features of fierce strength. If she could survive this, surely she could survive anything - while pessimism carves Ollie to believe none of them, no one, could survive this ultimate cruelty. One had every year, but did they truly? And surely this trio would at least try to.

“Is Dove going to be okay?” The little Blonde questions Zeke in a minuscule whisper of a practical whimper. The worst fear of them all was that she wouldn’t, that this all would eventually end, and that this all had to continue.

In conclusion of Zeke’s pristine work, Ollie wraps grateful arms around him, silently thanking him - as the words are unable to breach in concern that tears may be released if her voice is. Despite herself being weak, and Dove now being forced into that label as well with a missing limb, Zeke remains despite. He’s beyond strong, he has a chance to derive victories from this nightmare, and there was no doubt that weak companions would only falter him. Yet he’s still here anyways.

For perhaps one last time, the Blonde retrieves to Dove’s precious embrace. Her brown eyes collapse to rest, though it’s doubtful any was actually achieved. Thoughts roam her sleepless mind on her gratitude for the ones she still holds close, that still hold her close. How could she ever repay them? How could she ever make Dove better? And within the chaos of her desperation to make everything okay again, to show her love to them, an innocent idea settles her overwhelmed brain.

Softly she pulls from Dove’s sheltering arms, hopeful to not disturb her. A light kiss places upon Five’s forehead, before whispering words flutter out. “I’ll be right back.” She promises, before glancing towards Zeke with a grin upon her cheeks. A gift of gratitude was given to Akira back on the beach. Dove and Zeke deserved one to. Her collection of rocks beneath the sheltering tree couldn’t be too far away. Within a couple of minutes she could return there, and collect a couple rocks that are most precious to her. Surely all would be asleep within the moon’s hours? And with such confidence, she embarks on her first own personal adventure.

-

Trees weaving around her in a mazing manner, crying at her thoughts to turn back while a chance still lingers. But determination strives her way onward, with calculations carving within the interior of her skull to remember her way back. A day will come soon that she’d have to split from the ones she holds close, and she had to leave them within something before then. Every step sent her heart pounding against her ribs harsher then the last, yet still she refutes to graze back until her achievement was accomplished. Her teeth nibble at her cheek in encouragement, until a brutal bite pierces it at the sudden shake of thunder.

Automatically she backs into a nearby tree, as if it were Dove ordering her to take shelter. Eyes desperately comb in every which way for her warriors, but Zeke and Ces are no where to be seen. Her hands clench around her weapon, instincts preparing her to fight - though only a warm breeze accompanies her. Perhaps this endeavor was a bad idea.

Another thunder nearly ignites the earth to quake entirely, as the tree pressed against her back rumbles - leaving her once again shaking like a leaf. “Dove?!” She calls out for, pleading that her Five was following to protect her on her stupid mission. “Zeke?!” Or surely he would be, to return her back to their temporary home where their Dove was surely resting? But only thunder answers back to her.

Without a second thought she’s sprinting in any which way that she feels will bring her back to her new family. All along the way their names scream from her lips, as even Ces’s does as well, as she manages no recollection to which path would lead her back to them. If she believed her heart would plummet her to her demise before, surely it will now - as the beat of her pulse stammers beyond understanding, desperate to return to her protectors.

Feet stagger to a halt in the blindness of her belief that this would be the end line of trees to where her family’s shelter rests, but solely more trees welcome her. Defeat rattles her heart, as her legs discover an inability to continue trying. Again her stance gives way when another crack of thunder roars through the atmosphere, collapsing her back to the dirt beneath. There’s no preventing the tears from cascading down her cheeks. There’s no more enforcing her facade strength to rise. There’s no more unrealistic optimism to make herself and others believe she actually stands a chance.

“Bella… Bella… What do I do?” She cries out for an answer from her Foster Sister who met her demise in just the year prior. “Please, I don’t know what to do.” More desperation clings her body in a curl, her arms squeezing her legs as if they were Dove who could offer a protective hold if she clung hard enough. “I”m sorry Bella, I didn’t want to disappoint you.” But surely she has, and surely she was destined to since the day her name was called for.

The patter of running souls silences her sobs, though it’s not in fear of an enemy approaching. “Dove?” She questions before clawing back to her feet. “Zeke?” It must be them, destined to save her from her innocent stupidity. But no voices return to her within the shouts of thunder. “Bella? Ces?” And just in case, she calls out for the ones who may only be here in spirit to guide her through this mess. But either way, she cautiously ventures towards the unknown.

Two figures bring the briefest grin across her face, until realization strikes that it’s not Dove and Zeke - nor is it Bella and Ces. Both are much taller and older, familiar and foreign, innocent and enemies. Instantly her feet are retreating back once more as her gaze shifts back and forth from one to the other. One, who’s name rings to be Stitch, who she’s never spoken a word to - yet who she knows derives from an unforgiving district just as she does. The other who she’s fought against before, yet who she just had a peaceful lunch with a few hours before. Uncertainty continues to stagger her feet backwards, to get away, while she knows truly that it wont be so easy. Another thunder bursts, and so does Stitch’s words.

“Don't you dare fucking touch him.” He threatens, a moment prior to his blade swiping across the little Blonde’s cheek. Instantly tears pierce a return to her eyes, as confusion takes hold once more.

“I…I…” Her voice stutters in strive to protest that she wasn’t going to. Anger and sorrow swirl in a swim of emotions, though at least her feet have determined an escape is not going to occur. “I…I…” Still her vocals continue to struggle, unsure of what she was even going to say anymore. But with the punishment already delivered from a crime she never even craved to commit, she succumbs to doing the unthinkable. She has to be strong after all. And with that, she blindly swings.

now my neck is open wide,
begging for a first around it,
already choking on my pride,
so there's no use crying about it,
I'm headed straight for the Castle

sick of all these people talking,

sick of all this noise,
tired of all these cameras flashing,
sick of being poised

The kiss of death collides into the depths of nothing once more. Destruction is abstained from, denying the reaper the chance a companion may join him. Though perhaps it’s not denial in the slightest, as it’s a near guarantee that the wielder of such failure will surely meet him soon. The pure brown eyes upon Ollie squint from their closure to register her lack of including the chaos; confused, yet not confused, by her inability to crack bones as she had just two days prior - or had that only been a day? Perhaps it’s been a week? Mere hours? Fear continues to consume her, increasing further as it has every day, while the distraction of words do settle her if only a bit.

Surprise prolongs to embrace Ollie in the following comments to derive from the one known by all as Andy. With ease he objects against Stitch’s recollection, and press to pull Four onto his side. For the briefest second a grin twitches a shine upon the Blonde’s lip, from solely relief that her demise wont be enforced by two - while in hindsight her demise still seemed destined. But many more still had to crumble, as rupturing canons falter her track to how many strive to linger in survival. And perhaps it’s this knowledge, or Andy’s distaste for harming someone small, that carves his blade into someone who claims they kissed.

Explanation of innocence crumbles from Stitch’s lips next, as he peals his wound from his supposed Lover’s spear. A rhetorical question springs directly towards Ollie herself, in disagreement to her choice in word calling - which instantly shambles guilt upon her core. Back within her District, back when everything was still peaceful, back when the Game first began, and even back until yesterday, even such an innocent insult would never cross the likes of her thoughts. But anger, and rage, and sorrow, were brewing together within her emotions in a manner such a young child had never experienced before.

Proof of his innocent guilt swirls in need out of the boy from Eight, nearly setting an understanding within the tiny girl from Ten. They were all desperate - pleading to last simply another day, to inhale another breath, to live while they still could. And if it weren’t for his previous unlawful accusation against her, his callous need to turn two against a small orphan who could scarcely hold her own against one, and his mannerism that he deserved escape more then the rest, perhaps she wouldn’t even be hateful towards his violent actions. He warns, and she braces - with venom still rumbling across her opinion.

A petite arm flutters upward in strive to protect her existence, while still a carve is left in her action’s wake. Blood curls from now a third location upon her skin, though still her heart continues to beat - which is all she can concentrate upon. Well that, and her new ability to protrude her voice. “We’re all desperate.” She chimes, with a tone of agreement and ongoing dislike intertwined. “My name is Ollie, Stitch.” Is shared with resentment, unsure if it’s for him, or for his lie, or for the Capitol itself. “And I don’t lie, or cheat, or do anything unfairly. The Capitol does that enough! Don’t be like them, and make strangers not like each other! Fight fair, not like a meanie!” She insists in a plead to only have one seeking her conclusion, to keep things even in this mess of disadvantaged odds. Again she swings her weapon blindly, her yoyo of destruction thirsting for blood with no preference of direction - though this time, her eyes are not shielded shut.

now my neck is open wide,
begging for a first around it,
already choking on my pride,
so there's no use crying about it,
I'm headed straight for the Castle

sick of all these people talking,

sick of all this noise,
tired of all these cameras flashing,
sick of being poised

The return of the vital strength disappears as swiftly as it arrived. The clang of interception chimes an unruly tune of disappointment, while her eyes register the placement of her failure upon Andy once more. Again the tiny Blonde’s lips part ajar in instinct to apologize, while no such words manage from her tongue. The kiss of her weapon’s crave for destruction was not met with it’s goal. Not even a bruise would be left in it’s memory, nor was armor dented in strive. Yet guilt consumes the small girl from Ten nonetheless. Was it over her blind charges continuously going towards the Stranger who had morales? Her failure in being strong? Perhaps neither, as she pertains no desire to decide another’s fate, nor does she glow in their pain - though maybe both was required for ultimate survival, while that also sung to be living in death.

A new insult derives from Stitch himself, over Ten’s inability to aim. A quiet snarl whistle back in return from her core, more pained by the truth then the bloodshed being laid upon her scarlet skin. Another apology lingers, with a promise that it’ll all be over soon in one way or the other - leaving Ollie in a mess of confusion altogether. A chance strived that he wasn’t the villain her instincts were screaming for him to be. He imagined and believed his lie out of pure concern. He sought to turn another against a little girl out of sole desperation. He merely played the game as the Capitol had taught him to do. But still that didn’t mean he deserved forgiveness.

As for Andy however, not even a single word of discontent whispers from his vocals over where Ollie’s attempt accidentally landed once more. His vision remains upon Eight, with a request to brace his oncoming charge. Possibly it’s understood by him that a petite orphan from Ten was such a mere obstacle not worthy of his concern, perhaps it was his morals, or maybe something entirely else - but either way his weapon does not turn towards the Blonde in the slightest. Instead it clashes upon Stitch once more, leaving not a ghastly wound nor an absence of a hit left behind, but rather another harassment to the metal seeking to guard it’s warrior.

Throughout the violent scrimmage, the dispute continues to address from all parties. Both of the guys claim the other is in their way, and now Stitch is protesting against it being mutual. To him he can’t understand Andy’s impulse to battle against him; and while Ollie quite doesn’t either, she’d never argue against it - but perhaps that solely due to it being in her favor. Still her only disagreement was towards being placed in a lie, being placed in a situation she’d never do, and not against the delivered wounds upon her she knows is out of pure desperation to survive. Yet still, she’s itching closer to an understanding.

Forgiveness it brought forth into this time of darkness, with a compromise that all of this is simply out of necessity to continue one’s own personal breath. Another slice joins upon her shoulder that at least still has a hand. “But I can’t forgive you for this…” Ollie states with that rage still controlling her voice, though it’s no longer towards him oddly enough. “The only ones that need to say they’re sorry for this is the bad guys in the Capitol. All I can forgive you for is saying I did something I never did.” But perhaps one day she’ll have to do exactly what he falsely accused her of, and hopefully that day will never come - because then she’ll be the one in need of forgiveness. Or maybe she already has, as her weapon decides for her - and not the other way around.

now my neck is open wide,
begging for a first around it,
already choking on my pride,
so there's no use crying about it,
I'm headed straight for the Castle