made from broken molds [Ky/Callum]
Jun 3, 2020 18:07:50 GMT -5
Post by pogue on Jun 3, 2020 18:07:50 GMT -5
C A L L U M
The training center was as grand as it was terrifying, rows of weapons in perfect positions and knights in white guarding each doorway. He can feel his bones creak in protest as he places the sword back onto the stand, trainer's eyes boring holes into his being. The bruises lining his wrists and forearms from unarmed sparring matches are a testament to the world that he was no warrior, and he can sense the careers of the Games sniffing him out as he trains. Still, though, Twelve had at least managed to gather some form of respect from its relatively recent victors in Nico and Stella, and in the crumbled ruins of a fallen kingdom Callum can feel the target on his back growing. They should know that he's not a survivor like them.
This place was a fairytale, that was for sure, but Callum Leare can't use this one to escape from the world. Every step he takes he feels like the walls are watching him, laced with malice, forged in blood and ready for his downfall. He makes his way slowly across the center, a chorus of clashing metal and gladiator grunts mocking him all the way, and finds himself rooted in front of the plant identification station, gazing at the bundles of plants placed in neat rows for them to explore. They have a week to live and an even shorter amount of time to die, so Callum doesn't waste time waiting for the trainer to come assist him, opting to explore the station on his own.
Living in Twelve hadn't taught him much besides how to build a fire and the occasional survival tactic, and for most of his life Elijah had been the one to keep track of things like food and water. In his mind Callum mutters a silent thank you to his brother for everything he'd done for him, regret gnawing at his heart for never having the courage to have said it in person. Some king he was.
Settling on a small bundle of green leaves, speckled with light green lines and spots, Callum feels another body make its way next to him and assumes it's the trainer, speaking at him without turning his head.
"Is this edible?" He says, reaching for the plants.
This place was a fairytale, that was for sure, but Callum Leare can't use this one to escape from the world. Every step he takes he feels like the walls are watching him, laced with malice, forged in blood and ready for his downfall. He makes his way slowly across the center, a chorus of clashing metal and gladiator grunts mocking him all the way, and finds himself rooted in front of the plant identification station, gazing at the bundles of plants placed in neat rows for them to explore. They have a week to live and an even shorter amount of time to die, so Callum doesn't waste time waiting for the trainer to come assist him, opting to explore the station on his own.
Living in Twelve hadn't taught him much besides how to build a fire and the occasional survival tactic, and for most of his life Elijah had been the one to keep track of things like food and water. In his mind Callum mutters a silent thank you to his brother for everything he'd done for him, regret gnawing at his heart for never having the courage to have said it in person. Some king he was.
Settling on a small bundle of green leaves, speckled with light green lines and spots, Callum feels another body make its way next to him and assumes it's the trainer, speaking at him without turning his head.
"Is this edible?" He says, reaching for the plants.
