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songs of a fallen forest | {andy}
Jan 16, 2020 22:54:37 GMT -5
Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Jan 16, 2020 22:54:37 GMT -5
He'd always imagined it would be... cleaner. Whiter, like the other Capitol buildings he'd seen. Even in times of war, their camps were always well-organized. There was always someone being paid to keep the floors clean enough to eat off of, someone to wipe the dirt off of the windows. It was strange, how much they needed to feel comfortable, like they were at their second home or something and not trying to force an entire nation of people into poverty and death.
But the cell he was kept it was old and dirty and smelled like mildew: no more than three walls of solid concrete, one side lined with iron bars. Dirt floor, which was less than ideal in the winter, but he'd figured out that if he stayed in one spot long enough, it wasn't as bad. He'd slept in worse, back when he and the others were on the run. Eaten worse than the food they gave him too, which he guessed was always just past its expiration date because it tended to come a bit dry, or with a slight sour taste. To them, who'd grown up having everything and more, he supposed this was capital punishment. To eat food that was technically no good anymore.
He knew what bugs tasted like. Hated that he did, but it was true. Two days spent hunting and not a damn thing in sight: not with all the explosions and fires and screams that had happened so close by. Hell, he'd even eaten raw meat a few times when the rainy season made starting a fire too hard, knew that if he pinched his nose and chewed as little as possible and kept his eyes closed it wasn't that bad.
He could handle that his bread was a bit crumbly in contrast, is what he meant.
They came in the night, flashing lights down on him as he held his hand up to let his eyes adjust. They always breathed through their mouths, he noticed. Probably so they could handle the smells of poverty; Andy couldn't remember the last time he'd been given the chance to shower. But they hefted him up: five total. Two behind him, two in front, one clenching his arm as if he would try and escape. Smart, he thought. Even if he had no idea where to go, he would've ran if he could.
Ironically, they took him right to the showers, peeled his clothes off of him and sprayed him down with a hose. The water was icy, involuntary gasps of breath escaping him as streams of dirt and sweat rolled from his body. By the time they were finished, Andy shivered, pulled his arms in close for warmth. They did not dry him off, just slid on a simple pair of cotton pants and a matching shirt, which was better than nothing, and marched him down the hall further than he'd ever been. Further, even, than the prisoner bathrooms they were allowed to use three times a day.
He'd been there for so long, he didn't realize that this was the way out of the building until he was already standing outside, his bare feet struggling to keep pace as he sloshed through the mud, his toes numb from the cold. They tossed him into the backseat of a vehicle and climbed in around him.
"Date night?" he asked; the one to his left elbowed him in the mouth and he tasted blood. One of the guys in the front seat let out a small chuckle.
"Reaping day is tomorrow. All eligible participants are being escorted to a holding facility until tomorrow, where you will attend the ceremony. If you're lucky, after it's done, you'll get to crawl back into that hole we just pulled you out of."
A lot of questions passed through his mind in that moment, the most prominent of which was: What the fuck is a reaping, and why would returning to prison be the better option? But he didn't ask- he could already feel his top lip swelling, and if the exam he'd done with his tongue was any indication, there was a fairly decent sized cut where the peacekeeper's elbow had made contact.
They rode for quite some time before they even reached the entrance gates to the district. Andy wondered how far out of the way he'd been this whole time, how long he would've been in the wilderness before he made it back to civilization. He probably could've done it, were he still well-fed and well-exercised. He would've been dead within a week in his current state, and that was only assuming he would ever have the opportunity in the first place, which wouldn't ever happen.
He sighed, peering up at the keeper who came up to the window and checked the driver's identification. Part of him hoped there would be some sort of misunderstanding. Enough to draw the attention of everyone else in the car long enough for him to grab a pistol off someone's hip. Give him a gun, it was over. Give him a gun, he might actually make it out of this.
"All clear," the guard said, waving to his douche friends so they could open the gates. Though the guy never looked his way, Andy smiled humorlessly as a way of saying fuck you.
It was dark, but even so, things were different. Houses, entire neighborhoods even: gone. Forests now reduced to plains, newly formed bodies of water that stretched along the roads. They said he'd been locked up for almost a year, and even that hadn't been enough to rebuild. From the looks of it, they hadn't even begun to rebuild, in fact. He would've hated to see what it looked like back then.
Of course, when they arrived at the Square, it was pristine. Clean. White. Like the other Capitol buildings Andy had seen. He would've bit his lip to keep himself from laughing out loud, but it was busted. So he laughed. And the peacekeeper who'd elbowed him glared over at him.
"Sorry your, er, uh-" he couldn't recall if there was a respectful way to refer to a peacekeeper, likely because if there was, he hadn't ever used it, "Sir."
They stopped behind the Justice Building, pulled him out yet again in the same format as before, walked him across the street to what had once been a paper mill, but had apparently been turned into makeshift living quarters for the prisoners who qualified for this reaping thing. They shoved him into a room with a blanket and a pillow and a plate of baked beans, and locked the door behind him.
He wouldn't have admitted it if asked, but he found himself excited. Sleeping on something other than mud for the first time in a year and a half, with a blanket and a pillow no less. And even a second dinner to top it off.
Whatever happened tomorrow was worth it, he decided, though he had a growing suspicion he'd regret thinking it.
But the cell he was kept it was old and dirty and smelled like mildew: no more than three walls of solid concrete, one side lined with iron bars. Dirt floor, which was less than ideal in the winter, but he'd figured out that if he stayed in one spot long enough, it wasn't as bad. He'd slept in worse, back when he and the others were on the run. Eaten worse than the food they gave him too, which he guessed was always just past its expiration date because it tended to come a bit dry, or with a slight sour taste. To them, who'd grown up having everything and more, he supposed this was capital punishment. To eat food that was technically no good anymore.
He knew what bugs tasted like. Hated that he did, but it was true. Two days spent hunting and not a damn thing in sight: not with all the explosions and fires and screams that had happened so close by. Hell, he'd even eaten raw meat a few times when the rainy season made starting a fire too hard, knew that if he pinched his nose and chewed as little as possible and kept his eyes closed it wasn't that bad.
He could handle that his bread was a bit crumbly in contrast, is what he meant.
They came in the night, flashing lights down on him as he held his hand up to let his eyes adjust. They always breathed through their mouths, he noticed. Probably so they could handle the smells of poverty; Andy couldn't remember the last time he'd been given the chance to shower. But they hefted him up: five total. Two behind him, two in front, one clenching his arm as if he would try and escape. Smart, he thought. Even if he had no idea where to go, he would've ran if he could.
Ironically, they took him right to the showers, peeled his clothes off of him and sprayed him down with a hose. The water was icy, involuntary gasps of breath escaping him as streams of dirt and sweat rolled from his body. By the time they were finished, Andy shivered, pulled his arms in close for warmth. They did not dry him off, just slid on a simple pair of cotton pants and a matching shirt, which was better than nothing, and marched him down the hall further than he'd ever been. Further, even, than the prisoner bathrooms they were allowed to use three times a day.
He'd been there for so long, he didn't realize that this was the way out of the building until he was already standing outside, his bare feet struggling to keep pace as he sloshed through the mud, his toes numb from the cold. They tossed him into the backseat of a vehicle and climbed in around him.
"Date night?" he asked; the one to his left elbowed him in the mouth and he tasted blood. One of the guys in the front seat let out a small chuckle.
"Reaping day is tomorrow. All eligible participants are being escorted to a holding facility until tomorrow, where you will attend the ceremony. If you're lucky, after it's done, you'll get to crawl back into that hole we just pulled you out of."
A lot of questions passed through his mind in that moment, the most prominent of which was: What the fuck is a reaping, and why would returning to prison be the better option? But he didn't ask- he could already feel his top lip swelling, and if the exam he'd done with his tongue was any indication, there was a fairly decent sized cut where the peacekeeper's elbow had made contact.
They rode for quite some time before they even reached the entrance gates to the district. Andy wondered how far out of the way he'd been this whole time, how long he would've been in the wilderness before he made it back to civilization. He probably could've done it, were he still well-fed and well-exercised. He would've been dead within a week in his current state, and that was only assuming he would ever have the opportunity in the first place, which wouldn't ever happen.
He sighed, peering up at the keeper who came up to the window and checked the driver's identification. Part of him hoped there would be some sort of misunderstanding. Enough to draw the attention of everyone else in the car long enough for him to grab a pistol off someone's hip. Give him a gun, it was over. Give him a gun, he might actually make it out of this.
"All clear," the guard said, waving to his douche friends so they could open the gates. Though the guy never looked his way, Andy smiled humorlessly as a way of saying fuck you.
It was dark, but even so, things were different. Houses, entire neighborhoods even: gone. Forests now reduced to plains, newly formed bodies of water that stretched along the roads. They said he'd been locked up for almost a year, and even that hadn't been enough to rebuild. From the looks of it, they hadn't even begun to rebuild, in fact. He would've hated to see what it looked like back then.
Of course, when they arrived at the Square, it was pristine. Clean. White. Like the other Capitol buildings Andy had seen. He would've bit his lip to keep himself from laughing out loud, but it was busted. So he laughed. And the peacekeeper who'd elbowed him glared over at him.
"Sorry your, er, uh-" he couldn't recall if there was a respectful way to refer to a peacekeeper, likely because if there was, he hadn't ever used it, "Sir."
They stopped behind the Justice Building, pulled him out yet again in the same format as before, walked him across the street to what had once been a paper mill, but had apparently been turned into makeshift living quarters for the prisoners who qualified for this reaping thing. They shoved him into a room with a blanket and a pillow and a plate of baked beans, and locked the door behind him.
He wouldn't have admitted it if asked, but he found himself excited. Sleeping on something other than mud for the first time in a year and a half, with a blanket and a pillow no less. And even a second dinner to top it off.
Whatever happened tomorrow was worth it, he decided, though he had a growing suspicion he'd regret thinking it.
