the withdrawal and the little mule | silas and walter

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d6a georgie cham 🐢 frankel
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call me jaded

the withdrawal and the little mule | silas and walter Feb 17, 2020 15:18:27 GMT -5

Post by d6a georgie cham 🐢 frankel on Feb 17, 2020 15:18:27 GMT -5

A bunny abundance, an avox who could probably pull the pinkest flamingo from their pocket; Walter is really taking advantage of every single service that the Capitol has on offer. This morning he even dared to juggle the weaponry stations for an hour, enough to touch on the basics, enough to prolong this little adventure that he thrusted onto himself.

Rule Seven - Make conversation with three different people every day.

Never has it been difficult to break a rule, there is a real wealth of conversers surround him. Even if he is counting the avoxes. They do not have to talk back for it to be a full conversation.

Except today, it is midday and the only word that has slipped his tongue is a good morning to the man serving breakfast in the canteen. There must be someone new to seek and learn from, even if it is another tribute.

It is the midday interval, a void in time between lunch and the afternoon session in the training centre. Walter wanders the corridors, doors leading to rooms he has yet to discover and never will as most are signed with no unauthorised personnel. His wandering departs at the boy’s bathroom, not such a lively place or the likely location for a conversation but it is always occupied. And bingo! As soon as he barges through the door, the little boy bumps into the tribute from Ten, he is not one he has spoken to before.

He takes a moment to decide his first word, Walter does not know what this guy is like and there is clearly something wrong written across his face. It is symptom he has seen so many times before. The same as the desperation that fell through Cassidy’s doors back home; there is no cure for it but a solution to numb the indicators. ”What is wrong with you, can I get you something?” His favourite avox must surely know a supplier in these parts. After all, Cass used to boast to Walter about the Capitol being his biggest client…

umber vivuus 12a 🥀 [dars]
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the withdrawal and the little mule | silas and walter Feb 18, 2020 14:32:24 GMT -5

Post by umber vivuus 12a 🥀 [dars] on Feb 18, 2020 14:32:24 GMT -5

He'd known it wouldn't work. His stomach was already sour, his skin damp with sweat. He wasn't hungry, but he felt the need to try, if for no other reason than to keep up appearances, to avoid appearing weak. Weak people were easy targets; finding a weakness was learning to win and Silas meant to keep his own as hidden as he could. But there was no hiding the symptoms of withdrawal. There was no pretending his body did not crave the lull of bliss only a pill could bring him, or the foggy embrace of inhaling pungent smoke.

Even as he'd taken the first bite, he knew it was already decided: he would vomit eventually. He held it down until he was finished, tried to make his way to the bathroom as nonchalantly as possible. The moment he was alone, he allowed his panic to overtake him and he stumbled forward onto his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach. When he was finished, he made his way to the sink, resting his weight onto his arms as he stared at his reflection, dazed and exhausted and already in pieces.

On one hand, it was good that the bulk of his detoxing would be done before the arena. But he knew the fight was far from over, that it left him vulnerable in the days to come. His chances of survival may have even been better if he could get his hands on something. He was so used to being under the influence that he didn't know what to do when he was sober.

He hadn't noticed the boy when he entered, small and with a high, clear voice. For a moment, Silas swore he was staring at one of his little brothers. He shook his head, splashed water on his face. It would've been too easy to ask the boy to help him find his next high; there was a part of him, however, that was holding on to the hope that, maybe, if he got it out of the way now, his suffering would be manageable come Bloodbath. He sighed after a long moment.

"Alcohol," he said, his voice hoarse. Perhaps it'd be enough to curb his addiction while still forcing him through the process of ridding his system of painkillers. It was too early for drinking, which meant it was likely too early for the officials to start hiding it from him. He made eye contact with the boy again as he dried his face, forcing his breathing to remain steady.

"Know where I can get any?"