im gone // d6 train // mylee & tom

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ali
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Ohana means family

im gone // d6 train // mylee & tom Oct 1, 2019 16:43:22 GMT -5

Post by ali on Oct 1, 2019 16:43:22 GMT -5

Rabbit Liddell

When a boy joins you on the stage, there is a sullen silence, a lack of applause except the lone strange man with beckoning voice who claps his hands together with such enthusiasm that your hands go to your ears and the tears well again in your eyes. He is loud, noisy and you decide you do not like him and are thankful when you are lead from the stage by men in white uniform- their strong hands pressing against your back as you walk into the building behind the stage.

"When is Nurse Sara coming?" You find yourself asking, voice quiet and timid, laced with concern and excitement, tilting as you question when the kind woman is coming to get you as she said she would. But the men in white neglect you, they do not answer as they lead you into a tall room lined with bookcases without windows. Before you can protest, feeling the walls wrap themselves around you, they are gone, closing the door behind them.

Without instruction, without any guidance what you are to do now, you stand there, watching the door waiting. Your mind swirls and wanders into the emptiness that inhabits it and you remember. You remember feeling this loneliness for so long- there are pieces of you missing but you don't remember who or what they are but you cry anyway. A gurgling cry, a child's cry escapes your lips as your head tilts backwards and you howl. You howl, tears streaming down your face, cheeks flush and heart breaking.

When they come for you again, you are curled on the leather sofa, hands curling into fists at the side of your head as if you are trying to block out the sound. You sit up as they swing open the door, your heart quivering in your chest in anticipation for that motherly face to appear in the doorway but she never comes. Instead they do, the men in white, and they pull you off the sofa and you follow them willingly because maybe they will take you back to Nurse Sara. Your face brightens with the hope that fills you as they take you to the car waiting in a side street beside the justice building.

You find youself sitting beside two strangers, people you do not know and whos faces are not Nurse Sara’s. They are both men and something about men that makes your stomach turn. You find yourself wiping your clammy hands on the edge of the seat, trying at the same time to press yourself as far way from the boy your age even though he has not bothered you. And still you feel frightened- and the tears begin to bubble up again, your lip quivering, heart thudding inside your chest as fear begins to course through you, fear of men and fear of the unknown why.

The drive is mercifully short, and you are distracted from your fears by the men in white leading you from your carriage to a metalic beast- long, snaking, you peer down the tracks to try get a glimpse of the head of the snake of metal before you step inside the train. Your eyes widen at the sight before your eyes- everything glitters and glows, there is a delicate paleness to the furniture and decor that you find youself gasping a little as you step further into carriage as the two strangers follow you onto the train, the door closing behind them as they come. Entombing you.

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”

Tom
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OowoO

im gone // d6 train // mylee & tom Oct 3, 2019 23:21:08 GMT -5

Post by Tom on Oct 3, 2019 23:21:08 GMT -5

Year after year, the games get both harder and easier to deal with.

Part of him wonders if death was now becoming numb to him. Watching innocent children die by the hands of other tributes, always on the edge of his seat; planning what to do next year to try and save the tributes from Six. And every year, he fails with a glass of wine and a huff of stress on the tip of his lips. Hands running through his hair, trying to rip away the warmth of lava filling his vision. Death was getting easier, but he was breaking down more and more every time. Easier and harder at the same time, he tells Star to leave him alone in the suite of District Six and heads home to the only people who make him feel like all of this was worth it.

Lily, Parson, and even Quest.

All of them having become the family he so desperately craved after surviving the seventy sixth games. Always there when he needed a break from the death, the pain, and the whole district being against him at times. Parson and Quest were still broken in their own ways, but Teddy doesn't dare ask about those wounds, already swearing to murder Angel after everything, but stays quiet due to his friendship with Mack. Angel may have ended whatever it was Parson and him had, but he knew it was probably for the better. Chester floats into his head, as if the possibility were there. A moment of a fleeting thought before Teddy shakes it off and lets himself focus back into the now.

Rabitt Liddel. Kirk.

The eighty third tributes. Just another duo of people he doesn't know, but wishes to help. Strategies and ideas forming in his head. Observations would be key to knowing their odds, but even then, he's never cracked the code of the games, unlike Mackenzie and plenty of others. Kit and Roison filling his head. Dying within the first few days, just like Rhetoric. A silence fills his head as the train feels emptier than the home he lives in. The smiles and antics of Lily making him feel warm in the best way possible. The way Parson seems to be doing at least okay comforts him, but now he's here in this empty train, waiting on the next two unfortunate tributes.

Two more souls that won't be saved because he's not good enough.

His own games had been a blur of his own anger and pushing through right and wrong, until finding the lines blur. Dreams still plaguing his mind with ways he could have died. Titus having saved him and killing Chester the next day replaying on a screen. The fight with Ree and his broken words filling the air as he begs to die over and over in his head. Emberly Lowe's own weapons cutting into his skin, leaving barely any warmth in his skin despite the boiling heat of the island he had been stuck on. Lux's words of hearts filling his own head up with fucked up thoughts. Trauma lingering in his head as he focuses on what to do for Rabbit and Kirk.

As the train pulls out to leave the station, Teddy can feel the tension grow, knowing two more tributes reside in this train. A volunteer and a girl who shed a tear. The understanding of how it feels to be in her shoes, he stops himself as he swirls a glass of moscato in his hand. A sip of the alcohol before he closes his eyes for a moment, remembering his first day on teh train with Basil. Alone and just the two of them with the escort. The clear memory of wanting someone else who had been there to tell him what to expect and do, but now he's that person. With first hand experience of what it means to be a tribute, he had to be there for them. Push them to their limits.

Except, he wasn't like Mackenzie who could raise tributes up in a matter of seconds.

Teddy Ursa had too much heart to be helpful.

Words spill from his chest as he watches them.

"Uh, hi."

The hum of the engine as the sound of wheels turn along the track, his own heartbeat feels heavier as he leans forward a little bit, watching his tributes for a moment. His mind wondering to how they will die or what suffering they'll have to go through. His heart feels empty as he takes a small breath and speaks again.

"First of all, I am sorry for you, Rabbit. You were unfortunate enough to be reaped."

Victors do not come from six.

Teddy was the exception.

He would get someone to do it again.

"Victors don't come from six. We all have heard those words. The capitol likes to use it all the time to describe us."

Eyes glance to Rabbit and then Kirk before he lets himself relax a little bit more.

"They are right. Victors don't come from Six."

The air feels heavier to him. Anxiousness creeps up as he sets down his glass and focuses on the two lives that were counting on him. The two lives that he was gonna have to try and get to the end, even thought he knew one of them wouldn't make it. Teddy Ursa had to hope they never will see one another in the arena. He hopes that they'll try not to become like the other district six tributes and try to kill one another.

"We're survivors. You have to use what you can to survive. I'm gonna be here. I'm gonna try the best that I can to help you. I'm here for you, no one else."

A small smile as he stares at Kirk, wondering why anyone would volunteer for the games.

Instead, he lets them ponder his words and speaks the question he always gives out.

"Ask me anything you'd like, I'll do the best that I can to answer them."

^{[ DARS ]}

Made by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

heather - d2 [mylee]
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last seen May 30, 2023 18:02:03 GMT -5

im gone // d6 train // mylee & tom Oct 7, 2019 7:52:36 GMT -5

Post by heather - d2 [mylee] on Oct 7, 2019 7:52:36 GMT -5

[presto]

[ kirk ]

[/presto]

The quiet that overwhelms the stage moments after my arrival on it is deafening and a little lackluster.

I’m not one for drama or irony or dramatic irony but there seems to be something known by everyone else, even the girl beside me, and I’m incredibly bothered by it. I don’t speak to the guards that usher me off the stage to the building behind us, and I savor the moments of silence, knowing that there will be few between now and whenever it is that I meet my end.

I don’t expect anyone to stop by during the measly hour given for goodbyes, but Franky appears, wide-eyed and spitting, words falling from his mouth so quickly I cannot catch a single one of them. I hold him against my chest, a spun reversal on who-should-be-comforting-who-exactly, but neither of us cares and neither of us needs to. Eventually he quiets down and I let space come between us, and for the first time I hear the question that he’s been repeating since opening the door, Why would you leave me here with him? I shrug my shoulders, hoping this will satisfy him, but he frantically shakes his head, says, No, you owe me an answer this time. A real one.

I have wanted to avoid giving an answer from the moment I stepped on the stage, mostly due to the fact that anything I tell him will be a lie. He’s not asking for an apology, a turn of phrase I’m used to churning out at a moment’s notice, always trying to fall back on circumstance as an excuse for my failings.

I try anyway, say I’m sorry, and nothing else, as though he’ll forgive me when he hears the words in my voice, even though they are quiet and choked and tinged with forced. I don’t move toward him, though I want to, though I want to express that my chest aches at the thought of leaving him alone. I do not blame him for his anger—there was a sense of consciousness behind my actions, and I am not the only one who knows that I am running.

He hasn’t asked for an apology, and he does not let it settle into the space between his ribs, where I had hoped that it might. Instead, he stares at the ground, says, An apology isn’t enough this time, Kirk. He stops his pacing and joins me on the couch, and there we sit and pass the hour until the peacekeepers knock on the door. When he stands to leave, he places both hands on my shoulders and stares up into my eyes says, I’ve made a hero out of you for so long. Don’t make me look like an idiot.

I nod as we embrace and watch his back as the door shuts behind him.

*

Shortly after Franky has left, the peacekeepers return to lead me from the room. They don’t knock like they did for my brother, and I start to comment on this but think better of it. They leave me at the door to the train, where I fall in line behind the girl from earlier and the man I’m assuming is Teddy, though I have never looked at his face long enough to commit any of the details to memory.

The three of us sit around a table and Teddy begins to speak, starts fumbling over his words while I reach for a glass of clear liquid and sniff it fondly—I know gin, and know it well. I sip quietly as Teddy says, Victors don’t come from Six. I roll my eyes, we’ve heard the words, he’s right. Who was that jackass again? Some boy from years ago who had a chance to be on this train today but fucked up so badly that he put a knife into another kid’s eye and still didn’t kill him. If you make that kind of mistake, I guess you deserve to die.

I’m working on remembering the kid’s name when Teddy says something that causes me to snap my head up. I’m here for you, no one else. I’m tempted to spit on the floor so I do. When I turn my gaze up again, Teddy is smiling at me, offering to answer any questions that float into my brain, but I’m not focused on the questions he’s hoping for.

I tip the glass toward him to catch his attention, say, Yeah, I’ve got a question for you. As model-child for the district how are you going to claim you’re here for us and not for yourself, for the Capitol, for anyone else? The two of us will be dead in a week and you’ll be drinking champagne and pouring out a glass on our graves. Are you delusional, or stupid?