i asked you second! [ max & angel blitz-ish

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✨ zozo.
Retired Staff

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Pronouns: she/her
last seen Nov 22, 2024 15:02:31 GMT -5

bloomtodeath

i asked you second! [ max & angel blitz-ish Jul 10, 2019 20:31:33 GMT -5

Post by ✨ zozo. on Jul 10, 2019 20:31:33 GMT -5

MAXINE PRYCE

im so terrible

come pick me off the floor

unrepairable

cant find an

open door.

She had grown used to Marley, albeit a few years late. Twenty-one and off he had gone, back to the Capitol to say goodbye to two more strangers. District Seven had gotten lucky. Too lucky. Two victors and two dead kids walking, Max wasn't going to be holding her breath over the latest reapings any time soon.

She caught herself in those tragic thoughts every time she took a shower. Only when the scalding heat of the water became lukewarm and the dull crashing of water on the tiled floor became annoying did she turn off the tap, gasping for fresh air and clean thoughts. All the water in the world couldn't wash away her stubborn attitudes, nor her almost-grief that still lingered every time Mickey left, still - she liked showering. It allowed her to think about nothing and everything all at once.

Stepping out of the room in nothing but a towel around her body and her hair was routine, no different than any other morning. Yet something caught her off-guard when she closed the bathroom door shut, something so troublesome it seemed worth investigating.

"Marley?" she tried, voice cautious - yet stern as always. "Mom? Is that you?"

A few droplets fell to the carpeted floors as she stepped forward, a spare room door open ajar that she'd sworn was closed the last time she walked past it.

"Mom are yo-?" the twin began, pushing on the handle with her free hand, but she didn't get the chance to finish her sentence.

There stood a stranger, tall and definitely not her mother or brother. And there stood Max.

In a towel.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" she screamed, slamming the door shut in a panic. "WHO THE FUCK- oh shit - um-" she stuttered through the closed door, gulping on air. This was too much, too much, who the fuck-

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"

Last Edit: Jul 10, 2019 20:37:09 GMT -5 by ✨ zozo.

“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”

napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.
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last seen Nov 19, 2024 3:17:51 GMT -5

i asked you second! [ max & angel blitz-ish Jul 13, 2019 5:59:29 GMT -5

Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Jul 13, 2019 5:59:29 GMT -5

i've tasted blood
and it is sweet
i've had the rug
pulled beneath my feet

Most of the time, I existed as a ghost would: adrift and unmoored, walking through the world as if it was mere smoke with a lightness in my chest. To love Angel De Costa was to love a haunted house with creaking floorboards and shadows dancing across the yellowed wallpaper, robed in decay and cobwebs, full of forgotten memories that howled and screeched.

I was a quiet haunting, an old radio turning on its own to make static, crackling sounds in the dark, a forlorn shape in the morning mist that disappears after a wind pushes through it.

The quaint room Mackenzie had given me was, fortunately, the most serene. The high window in the wall faced the sprawling gardens, hyacinths swaying their small heads in a gentle waft of air, and the dark, moss-green rims of the woods, always mantled by an enticing mist in the winter days.

On the blue wallpaper, I had scribbled down random thoughts and poems, dark graphite sentences across the pastel blue, as a method of marking my territory like a wild animal would. But, other than those writings on the walls and the scent of cigarette smoke in the air, there were no telltale signs of my existence here—no personal touches, no clothes on the floor or plants by the window. Everything was neatly arranged: the books in a uniform line on the wooden shelves, the bed made, the clothes folded in the closet.

I was just the door creaking open at midnight, and the missing food from the counter tops.

Tearing open the juice box with my teeth, I made my way back to my room, taking the time to sip and indulge in the sweet drink fully. The house was noiseless, save for my footsteps on the carpet, so when Maxine Pryce’s scream exploded through it, the sound echoed and resonated loudly. In a moment of surprise, I let the juice box slip from my grasp and recoil, my back crashing into a wall. Pain flared in an instant up the backbone, the muscles there burning from the impact.

“Fuck,” I hissed.

“Who the fuck are you!” She demanded from behind the closed bathroom door, her words laced with panic. “The ghost that haunts the house,” I replied, retrieving the fallen juice box and its straw. “Kidding, I am your other brother that you did not know existed.” I stifled a chuckle for a moment, and let it fall loose from my mouth after.

“I am Angel De Costa, the 80th tribute who died and came back to life. I’ve been living in your house for two years now, Max.”

i've trusted lies
and trusted men
broke down and put myself
back together again

lyrics: halsey — nightmare

Last Edit: Jul 13, 2019 6:07:40 GMT -5 by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.

堕落天使