will this soldier return home? (Katelyn/Arabella)

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lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah
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will this soldier return home? (Katelyn/Arabella) May 31, 2020 7:36:31 GMT -5

Post by lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah on May 31, 2020 7:36:31 GMT -5

a r a b e l l a .

Remember who you are
If you lose yourself
Your courage soon will follow
So be strong tonight
Remember who you are

Fresh tears painted her cheeks. She had not cried in front of them, but they had cried for her as they held onto her for what they thought might be the last time. They hadn't been given long before she was ushered away, like a prisoner in death row. Their tears had been like tiny diamonds, shattering into a thousand pieces when hitting the ground. She wanted to collect them, to put them back together, and to tell them not to worry. But that was impossible, for both her and them. So instead, she had taken her mother into her arms, holding her close, as the older lady sobbed into her shoulder. She had ran a hand through greying hair, and made small reassuring sounds, hoping that the next time their eyes meet, the flow of tears would have stopped.

"Oh Ellen, please don't cry," Arabella's voice had been so quiet, soothing. It was like she had taken into the roll of the nurturer, of the mother. "I'll be okay. It'll be just like the stories." A sad smile formed on her lips, as she fought the tremble that had begun to sink in. "I'm the protagonist. And we all know that the protagonist always makes it to the end." She lied. She had read many books where the hero had failed.

Her eyes meet Matthews over Ellens head. They were glassy and bloodshot, tiny veins webbing through the whites of his eyes. He had been crying too. She had never seen him cry before, and despite the situation she could not stop the thoughts of how touching it was, to know that he had cried for her. She never thought that anyone would cry for her.

Maybe this was what it was like to be part of a family.

She liked that, liked the way it warmed her heart, like no feeling that she could create from her imagination.

She had held onto that feeling as they were told to leave the room. It felt like there was a never ending embrace of her heart, like Ellen and Matthew would forever be engraved there.

It was only when she was on the train, departing district eleven, did she allow herself to cry.

She didn't hold back the tears that fell down her cheeks, tears that would never be wiped away by the loving hand of a mother. She doesn't cry for long. Forcing herself to wipe away the tears, to take a deep breath and to focus. Yes, her heart broke for the family she was leaving behind, for the parents who had loved her despite her flaws. But despite that, there was the flurry of excitement pulsing through her veins. She was about to embark on a new adventure. See things that she could only have imagined. She was about to become a warrior. She didn't fully understand what that meant now. But she would, the moment she stepped off her pad, and the world erupted into chaos around her.

Gathering herself she takes a moment to look around. She had never seen anything like it, it was more than what she had imagined all these years. And right now, as she wandered through the depth of the train she felt like a princess. They had told her that in one of the main carriages would be an infinite amount of food. She imagined there to be a fountain of never ending chocolate, and strawberries and other fresh fruit to dip it in. She imagined that the plates would be made of solid gold, only the finest for their female tribute of District eleven. She would also sleep on a bed made of clouds, so soft that the minute her head hit the pillow she would be out, her dreams taking her back to her family, to a the many nights they had sat down as a family at the kitchen table, telling each other about the days events.

But of course, and not unusual, her reality could not quite live up to the images she painted in her mind. It was still exquisite, Arabella in awe. She is so distracted by her thoughts and the riches that surround her that she does not immediately realise that she is not the only one in the room.

Katelyn Persimmon.

Arabella stops on her tracks, her brown eyes widening slightly. She had never seen her in the flesh before, and the tv and numerous photos she'd seen had done her no justice. "You're beautiful," had she said that out loud? Once again, her ability to think before she speak escapes her. "I had hoped that the next tribute from our home would be just as beautiful. Strong as well, but alas we are stuck with me." Arabella shrugs, "Ellen says I'm beautiful, but she has too, cause he is like a mother to me. I will miss her dearly. She told me to come back home. I told her that I would, that the hero always returns home in the end. I didn't want to lie to her... But in stories like these, only strong heroes- like you- return home. I'm not a warrior, even if I like to pretend to be one."

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charade
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will this soldier return home? (Katelyn/Arabella) May 31, 2020 21:48:21 GMT -5

Post by charade on May 31, 2020 21:48:21 GMT -5

k a t e l y n .

I reserve my right to feel uncomfortable reserve my right to be afraid
I make mistakes and I am humbled every step of the way
I want to be a better person I wanna know the master plan
Cast your stones, cast your judgement, you don't make me who I am

Katelyn needed to give Cyro a piece of her mind. But that could wait. There were a lot of emotions struggling for control and she needed some time to think before the big dinner sit down with everyone. So as always, she had gone to the food car to arrange things. There was the usual spread. Platters of finger foods like steak fries. Fancier plates of cheeses, vegetables and dipping sauces. Sandwiches. A suckling pig with an apple its mouth. Capitol caterers always put a mix of everything, and she always added homemade dishes to it.

No pity fudge this year, she thought, thinking of Kassandra. Although she did bake a large batch of compassion cookies to go with the pity peach cobbler. She sighed. Kass was a hard nut to crack. So full of anger and so convinced of her ideals. She reminded Katelyn of Harbinger in the early days. She’d get through to her eventually. Had too. One day, the three of them would be gone, and Kassandra would be Eleven’s senior mentor. The girl had to be prepared for that eventuality.

“You’re beautiful.”

Katelyn raised an eyebrow at the voice and turned around. Ah. Arabella. Her other charge. Katelyn smiled softly as she listened to the girl talk, a smile that slowly faded. Self-deprecation was never a good sign and Katelyn was so tired of tributes who acted like they were giving up before they even got to the arena. At least it was better than the martyrs who inevitably sacrificed their ideals before they died. It was then that Katelyn was reminded of just how long it had been since she’d fought and bled and killed in the arena. There was an entire generation that was younger than her games. She felt old.

Katelyn bit her lip for a moment before replying. Debating the best way to approach this.

“Cookie?” she asked, putting the platter in the middle of the table before gesturing to a seat. She wanted to give the girl the right tools she needed.

“I’m not a hero,” she said as she sat down herself. “Or at least, I wasn’t when I was in the arena. The hero part came later.” While it made her uncomfortable to know people thought of her like that, she knew she’d brought hope and light to the district for three years in a row, and it was still talked about. She was a symbol of eleven’s resilience; now and forever the district’s eldest daughter. “When I was in the arena, I was a scared, nervous teenager who was just trying to survive.”

Katelyn folded her hands on the table and sighed. “You don’t have to be a warrior to come home. But I won’t lie, it’s a hard thing to do. At least there’s four of us mentors now, and we all have advice to give.” What was hers? Katelyn was quiet for a moment, looking at her. “My advice is this; fight. Survive. It will hurt. Taking a life is not an easy thing. The people who come home are not the heroes or the villains, they are the survivors.”

Katelyn leaned back in her chair. “You want to know about a hero? Ellexias Verisity was a hero. If you’ve never caught a rerun of my games, you might not know who that is, but she was one of my allies.” A girl from district six that should have grown up to be a doctor. “She died alone and in pain in the snow, missing three of her limbs. That was her reward for all the times she killed tributes to protect me and Marc.” As for villains? Villains were tougher. It was subjective. To Jordan Scoff and Jeff Ryder, the villains were herself and her allies.

To her, the villains would always be Chaske Parks and Margaret Dubois.

“Make no mistake, no matter how nice or heroic you try to be, you will make enemies. Or someone will make an enemy out of you. It’s the nature of the games.” When you’re fighting for your life every day, it’s easy to forget who the real enemy is. “At some point, it’ll come down to what you’re willing to do to survive. What did I do? I ate canned fish with my hands. Fought a saber-toothed tiger. Broke a boy’s ribs and held his hand when he died. Left my allies alone and bleeding in the night so I wouldn’t be forced to kill them. The girl that gave me this?” She continued, pointing at the scar on her throat, “I stabbed her in the chest with an ice pick and went home.” Katelyn grabbed an oatmeal cookie and munched on it thoughtfully. She knew it was a lot to process.

“If you have any questions about anything, go for it. I'm here to help.”

Last Edit: Jun 1, 2020 0:29:14 GMT -5 by charade

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle

lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah
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will this soldier return home? (Katelyn/Arabella) Jun 1, 2020 0:57:41 GMT -5

Post by lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah on Jun 1, 2020 0:57:41 GMT -5

a r a b e l l a .

Remember who you are
If you lose yourself
Your courage soon will follow
So be strong tonight
Remember who you are

"Cookie?" She offers as she places them down in the center of the table. They looked different for the rest of the food on display, there was something homely about them and instantly Arabella finds her fingers reaching for a choc chip one. Ellen always made her chic chip cookies on the are occasion they had room in the budget for a treat. She would always let her arrange the choc chips. Once, Arabella had placed them so that there were smiling back up at her. But after coming out of the oven the chocolate had melted and the cookies had looked possessed. At the time she had been so disappointed in herself. She had had plans to share these with her best friend, but she couldn't even bare to look at them. But now, as she thought about it, she couldn't help but smile.

Katelyn gestures for her to take a seat beside her, and Arabella does, her attention fully focused on the golden haired Victor. Her lips were pulled back into a wide smile, her eyes eager to hear, the no doubt, wonderful story that was about to become her reality. She was excited to learn more about the Victor. To hear her experiences, to find out if it was as tragic as she believed it to be. She wandered if she had fought the strongest career. She wandered what each scar represented.

She wandered if she would get a scar, one with a story that would have others sitting on the edge of their seat. Holding their breath, waiting to hear what happens next.

“I’m not a hero."

Oh.

Arabella feels her smile slip slightly. What did she mean? How could she not be a hero? She then goes on to explain that she wasn't one in the games, that that came on later. Arabella didn't fully understand what she meant by this, but for the first time in a long time she kept her mouth shut, trapping the endless amount of questions that had begun to form on her tongue. “When I was in the arena, I was a scared, nervous teenager who was just trying to survive.” Its hard for Arabella to imagine the scarred woman in front of her to be anything but that, so to hear her say that she was scared, nervous sort of wipes away some of the fog that had been clouding her vision. Arabella hadn't really taken anything of this seriously yet. She still saw this as just a new chapter to her story... But as she listened she slowly came to the terms that maybe she should be scared. She had only every imagine what occurred in her stories. She had only ever created situation that left her feeling excited and exhilarated...

But what if she was about to face would not follow the story line that she begged it too? What if the narrative took her down a path that she fused? She wouldn't be able to stop it. She wouldn't be able to just drag herself out of the fantasy. After all it wouldn't be a figment of her imagination. It would be reality. She wouldn't be able to wake up the next day, the previous days adventure already history.

Suddenly Arabella wished that it was not her name called. She wished that instead of being carried further and further away from her home, that she was walking hand in hand with Matthew and Ellen, discussing what would be for dinner that night.

"The people who come home are not the heroes or the villains, they are the survivors.”

Survivors. Arabella could be- was- a survivor. Suddenly the dread and despair that had begun to fill her fades a little, and she could feel the gentle hands of hope as it began to pull her into a gentle embrace. Yes, Arabella was defiantly a survivor.

She then continues on to tell her about the real hero of her games. She tells Arabella about one girl, Ellexias Verisity, how she died alone. Mutitaled, missing three of her limbs. And this struck home with her. It finally hit her that this was real. That she too might die alone, her body mutilated, bleeding, separated.

Oh no.

oh no oh no oh no oh no

they had to stop the train.

She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to die like this. She takes it all back now- she didn't need some sort of tragic death. No, she would be more than happy to have a simple one. Surrounded by family, by the people she loved.

She's struggling to breath now, her hand clutching her chest as she remembers what she is supposed to do. Breath out- no, you are supposed to breath in first. Yes. Open your mouth Arabella, she instructs herself, take a deep breath. But she couldn't. It was like she was suck underwater, she could hear Katelyn speaking, but she couldn't hear what she was saying. She could open her mouth, but every time she breathed in, no oxygen was there to replenish her lungs.

Arabella Shirley didn't want to die

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charade
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will this soldier return home? (Katelyn/Arabella) Jun 1, 2020 2:48:27 GMT -5

Post by charade on Jun 1, 2020 2:48:27 GMT -5

k a t e l y n .

I reserve my right to feel uncomfortable reserve my right to be afraid
I make mistakes and I am humbled every step of the way
I want to be a better person I wanna know the master plan
Cast your stones, cast your judgement, you don't make me who I am

Katelyn paused, half the cookie still in her hand. Arabella hadn’t said a word. Well, that was to be expected. It was a lot of information. At least she wasn’t proclaiming that she wouldn’t kill anyone and that she’d sacrifice herself for her district partner. Katelyn had had enough of martyrs. More tributes like Kass would be better. Tributes willing to fight. But Arabella was no warrior, the girl had her head in the clouds and—

“Arabella? Oh fuck.” she murmured under her breath. Maybe she’d laid it on a little thick. Hard truths, but then the arena was a hard place. She sucked at her teeth. Cyro Krane’s decision to volunteer and everything that came with it had affected her more than she’d thought. If she was going to list all the ways things could go hellishly wrong she needed to balance it with encouragement, not leave the conversation hanging with death and misery.

Katelyn got up quickly and grabbed a bottle of water out of the ice bucket, setting it in front of the girl, standing behind her and rubbing her back in a small circle. “Hey, hey. Breathe Arabella. Breathe. Your story isn’t over yet.” She kept at it until the girl had calmed and took a seat again, this time by her side.

“Look,” she said. “I’m sorry. That was a lot to hit you with, and it was the worst parts of my ordeal.” She put a hand on her shoulder. Every year the tributes were different, and while most of them accepted the reality she told to them by saying they wanted to learn what they could, not every kid was the same. “I know the stories. I’m the ice princess right?” That was how the Capitol had touted her back then, the narrative they’d pushed. And that was the image they cultivated in the promos, in the magazines. The image this girl probably had of her.

“What you wanted to hear was about how I stayed the night in a castle made of ice. How I anointed the knights traveling with me with water and a blessing.” That had happened. But it wasn’t the way it had happened; and not for the first time, Katelyn cursed the Capitol video editing teams. “It was as beautiful in its own way. Snowflakes drifting lazily through the air, a forest of evergreen trees encircling us. Gargantuan pillars of ice. A tiny igloo village.” Katelyn sighed, “But they don’t talk about how cold it was, or how blood crystallizes in the snow.”

She slid the cookie platter closer to Arabella. “Eat up,” she said kindly. “Arabella, I’ve been the senior victor in our district for sixteen years. There’s been a lot of people sitting where you’re sitting. The only thing I sugarcoat anymore are my cookies.” It never helped; there were a lot of tributes it hadn’t helped.

“I brought Kirito home my first year as a mentor. Together we helped Harbinger to the finish line. The three of us mentored Kassandra to the moon and back. We’ve done a lot. But we’re still people. And yes,” she added, stopping herself from gritting her teeth. “You could call us heroes for that. But the stories only talk about our victories.” She thought she had a good example lined up for her.

The one that excited Capitolites more than any of the one on one fights that most of them had had. “They talk about Harbinger’s final fight like it's a thing out of legend.” The lone Viking warrior holding the line against three other tributes. “What they don’t say is how close he was to passing out, or the agony he was in from losing a leg. That he was running on adrenaline and sheer willpower.”

There was a lot they never talked about.

“Arabella, I’m not telling you all this to scare you. I’m telling you because I care, and because you may not be a warrior, but neither was I, and the reason I’m sitting here right now because I had to become one.” Katelyn grabbed a chocolate chip cookie and ate it carefully. It had turned out better than the oatmeal raisin. Too many oats. A rookie mistake, but she’d been in a rush in the morning. She’d overslept because of a dream she’d been having of Opal. “Stories can have a happy ending. But you have to earn it, pay for it with blood, sweat and tears. Do you think you can do that?”

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle

lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah
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will this soldier return home? (Katelyn/Arabella) Jun 1, 2020 8:11:43 GMT -5

Post by lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah on Jun 1, 2020 8:11:43 GMT -5

a r a b e l l a .

Remember who you are
If you lose yourself
Your courage soon will follow
So be strong tonight
Remember who you are

Breath in. Breath out- or was it out then in? Or did it even matter, as long as air made it into your lungs? At that moment she didn't know, she didn't know what she could do to stop the tightness that had claimed her chest, that refusing to make her lungs work. She doesn't see Katelyn get up, she doesn't see anything, all of it a blur as she fought to get herself under control. Then hands are touching her back, moving in small circles and she focuses on that. She imagined that as they worked they loosened the restraints around her chest, and she felt the pressure lift slightly, her lungs finally filling with oxygen.

Her heart still raced, her breathing heavy. But at least she was breathing. After a few more moment Katelyn re-takes her seat beside her, and Arabella reaches for the bottle that she had placed in front of her. Opening it quickly she places the rim to her lips, and expels some of the liquid into her mouth. It was refreshing, washing away the last of the panic that still slumbered in her chest.

“Look,” Katelyn says, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. That was a lot to hit you with, and it was the worst parts of my ordeal.” It was a lot to throw at her, so much so that Arabella could barely retain much more, her mind already overwhelmed. Usually her brain would cope well with an astounding amount of information. Usually she would be able to sift through it and compartmentalise it all, organising it carefully ready to be plucked out at a moments notice. But today, after Katelyn's speech her mind was oddly numb, a feeling that made her skin crawl with unease.

“I know the stories. I’m the ice princess right?” Ice princess, she repeats to herself, her mind still foggy as she tried to wade herself through the mess that Katelyn had left in her brain. Yes, Arabella knew all too well the stories of the ice princess, those stories she had lived and breathed for the longest time. But she had been naive, hadn't she? After everything Katelyn had just told her, she would be so naive to believe that Katelyn had come out unscathed by her games. When Arabella looked at her she saw someone who was confident. Fierce. Wise, after all, under her protection she had brought home 3 victors. She had been total oblivious to the mental scars that the game must have left behind.

She tells Arabella bout the castle of ice, the knights, and the town of igloos. Had it been another time, Arabella would have been on the edge of her seat, so very desperate to hear more. She would have to know more- like how the stars reflected off the ice, did it look like fairies dancing? Or how did it not vanish under the heat of the suns ray.

She tells her how blood crystallises in the snow.

She instructs her to eat.

Arabella no longer felt hungry.

She tells her about Harbinger. How the capitol paraded his victory as one man who stood up to three tributes and came out as victorious. Arabella had heard of his story too. When she pictured him, she saw a warrior covered in the blood of his enemies. It was only now, after hearing everything that Katelyn had told her, that when she pictured him now saw his eyes were haunted with the ghosts of his past, “What they don’t say is how close he was to passing out, or the agony he was in from losing a leg."

No, they don't like to advertise that part. There was no glory in that, and. that would tarnish the image that they had been trying to create. But she could see it know, see his should broken as he swayed in agony, fighting to stay alive.

A fate that might soon be her own.

You may not be a warrior now, but you can become one.

"Stories can have a happy ending. But you have to earn it, pay for it with blood, sweat and tears. Do you think you can do that?”

"I- I," it was such a rarity for the young girl to be stumped for words. Usually she had so much to say that people around her joked that she often just spoke cause she loved to hear herself talk. But right now, in this moment, she couldn't quite find the words she was looking for. For so long she had told herself that she wished she could be more like the warriors that she breathed life into.

But maybe that was where she was going wrong. Maybe she had to stop wishing to become them, and actually do something about it.

Maybe that was easier said than done. Baby steps then.

"Miss Persimmon," She says, pulling her shoulders back. "Thank you for your bluntness. I appreciate you being real and honest with me. I think it's better for me to know now, and not find out later, when it might be too late. I am enterally grateful for it, you have helped me open my eyes. Not many people in my life time have showed me the kindness that you have today." No, they would have taken joy in seeing her break. They would have put betts on to see who would make her fold first. But as Katelyn had said to her, she never intended to be malicious. And Arabella believed her, but then again she had always trusted people so easily. Maybe that was why she was always getting hurt. "I came on this train this morning, with such silly romantic ideas about how my story would be played out," She doesn't tell her that she is still holding onto some of those notion, she wasn't ready to fully let go.

"I want to become a warrior. I want my happy ending. I promise you Katelyn Persimmon that I will pay for it. I will pay for it with my blood. With my sweat. And with my tears. I'm not ready for my story to end."

Arabella climbs to her feet, standing before the Victor. She bowed her head.

"Please teach me how to survive."

Because surviving out in the arena was a whole new game park. Arabella had survived bullies. She had survived harsh weather. Loneliness. But she had never had to survive against twenty-three other children all with one goal in their mind:

To go home.

Last Edit: Jun 1, 2020 8:14:53 GMT -5 by lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah

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charade
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will this soldier return home? (Katelyn/Arabella) Jun 1, 2020 23:54:19 GMT -5

Post by charade on Jun 1, 2020 23:54:19 GMT -5

k a t e l y n .

I reserve my right to feel uncomfortable reserve my right to be afraid
I make mistakes and I am humbled every step of the way
I want to be a better person I wanna know the master plan
Cast your stones, cast your judgement, you don't make me who I am

She hadn’t meant to fluster the poor girl so quickly and expertly but she had. Maybe it was for the best. Once again she told herself that the reality of the games was a harsh mistress and she wouldn’t be doing the tributes any favors by sugarcoating what they were up against. Arabella thanked her for her bluntness and her honesty shortly after, and she knew she’d made the right decision. Especially when Bella mentioned that she’d had a romantic ideal in mind since the reaping.

That—that was not good. The Capitol played up the romantic angle whenever they could, but it wasn’t real. It was cut together for the angst factor. Dramatized to give the fans something to root for. Or against. Whether or not the tributes making eyes at each and stealing kisses actually felt something beyond the fear and the hormones was up for debate, but the Capitol always ran away with it, replacing scared, confused and angry teenagers with lovers and villains and heroes.

Heroes.

Katelyn wondered what it was like to grow up having heroes to look up to. There hadn’t been a mentor to guide her through everything. Tell her what she was up against. Only memories of how former district eleven tributes died and died again, with only Fintemaelon keeping her to a schedule; now retired and replaced by Ms. Mellow. Some part of her actually missed the old fellow. He’d helped her navigate the Capitol side things while she’d had to write the book on games strategy for eleven. The more she thought about, the more she realized that in the absence of a hero to look up to, she’d had to become one for herself.

And in doing so, for others as well. Was that the point Vasco had been trying to get across to her over the last few years? Perhaps it was time she embraced it.

After all, self-deprecation was never a good thing.

“I’ll do my best,” she said as Bella finished saying that she’d fight hard, because she didn’t want to die. That she wanted to learn how to survive. “Talk to the other mentors. While our experiences were similar, they weren’t the same, and they’ll all have advice to give, things to teach over the next fortnight.” She smiled softly, regretfully at the girl.

Lesson one, she thought sadly to herself. Never meet your heroes.

END OF THREAD.