come to pass [Callum/Katelyn]

pogue
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Pronouns: He/Him
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Is she trying to interrupt our henna session?

come to pass [Callum/Katelyn] Jun 11, 2020 0:29:48 GMT -5

Post by pogue on Jun 11, 2020 0:29:48 GMT -5

C A L L U M

♛

The training he has endured has been rigorous and non-stop, trainers in white snaking their way through each station and adjusting the positions and footwork of each of the damned. His brain instinctively shut off whenever they would come around, too full of pride to listen and too hopeless to try to change his actions for the better. He had discovered that he was no fighter, after nicking himself one too many times with the metal he had intertwined between his fingers, white-knuckles white uniform turned calloused, bruised, and bloody with his lack of fighting ability.

As the days had gone on he had realized that his place is not meant to exist between the rubber hearts of a dummy, etching his story into their torsos. Instead, he had drifted over to the stations focused more on the basic survival skills expected of tributes: fire-making, plant identification, cooking, etc. The trainers here were much more sparse and much more relaxed, the glitz and glamor of the more ferocious battle stations not found amongst them. Even within these stations he finds his skills lacking, his distinct memory skills overloaded by the stress and pressure placed on him by the thought of the arena.

Wordlessly, he walks through the expansive plants station, eyeing every small green bundle that is placed around him in neat little glass boxes before stopping at the medicinal plant section. Here, numerous dummy arms had been set up, each having a different affliction spread deep within its skin. He moves towards the first station and traces his finger along the arm, a large pulsing red rash exploding from the wrist area. Towards the wrist is a large His mind races as he tries to remember the right h combination of plants to use in this situation, examining the choices before sighing and rolling his head back in frustration, hopelessness coursing in.

charade
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last seen May 1, 2024 12:08:12 GMT -5

Thinking

come to pass [Callum/Katelyn] Jun 11, 2020 1:09:40 GMT -5

Post by charade on Jun 11, 2020 1:09:40 GMT -5

k a t e l y n .

Move me, improve me, ignite the flame that ruled me
Guide me, collide me, I need something to survive me

In general, Katelyn tended to stay away from the combat stations. There was more to coming home alive than just being able to swing a weapon. Granted, it helped, but the survival skills could not be neglected. No matter the climate the arena was a harsh mistress and the mutts, dehydration and hunger could be just as dangerous as any tribute. How much more difficult was it to swing a sword when you were suffering from dysentery? How much weaker was a tribute when there had been nothing in their stomach for days?

If you didn’t correctly patch up all of the bite and claw wounds from the mutt you killed, the following morning, your strength might fail you at a crucial moment. All those shallow cuts and bruises added up after all; there was only so much blood the body could stand to lose. So much pain it could take. Katelyn walked around the stations idly. Neither of her tributes needed her help at the moment, but she was expected to stick around for a few more hours. Check out the competition.

Her eyes alighted on the boy from twelve, Callum if she remembered right. She’d seen him around the training center, trying to learn how to use a weapon; but it was clear that he didn’t have a fighter’s instinct. Perhaps he had come to terms with that, because he was studying the survival stations for once. Even so, he didn’t seem to have a clue. The dummy arm with a false rash on it seemed to be giving him some trouble and he seemed more exasperated than anything.

“Your best bet for that is aloe vera gel or witch hazel bark,” she murmured as she walked around the station he was by. “Something to soothe the irritation.” She came to stop on the other side of the arm, facing him with a small smile. “Callum, right? I'm Katelyn. How are you doing today?"

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

pogue
Graphics

1,890 POSTS

Pronouns: He/Him
last seen Oct 19, 2024 11:07:44 GMT -5

Is she trying to interrupt our henna session?

come to pass [Callum/Katelyn] Jun 11, 2020 15:05:04 GMT -5

Post by pogue on Jun 11, 2020 15:05:04 GMT -5

C A L L U M

♛

"Your best bet for that is aloe vera gel or witch hazel bark. Something to soothe the irritation."

He has found his frustration comes in waves, ebbing and flowing amidst the days before finally rising and crashing at random points. He's at the point of crashing when he hears the voice call out to him. When he turns his head he can see Katelyn Persimmon walking around the station before diverting towards him. He supposes he should be starstruck by the victor of the 69th Games, after watching the yearly recaps of her striking down her opponents growing up. When he'd been younger he'd found her to be terrifying, weapons laced with the blood of the fallen and chilling words from the final fight slipping from her lips. Now, she looks almost motherly, compassion seeping from her voice. Still, his guard instinctively raises as she approaches him, a victor is a victor after all.

He rummages through the plant choices in the compartments beneath the arm demonstration before grabbing the witch hazel bark and using it to rub into the irritation on the arm in front of him. The screen behind it flashes green twice, before approving of his choice and explaining in short term the uses of the bark. As he looks down, the same rash that had run abundant across the flesh of the arm had faded slightly, forces retreating until finally he watches it fade into the skin and disappear completely. It takes about five heartbeats for the rash to suddenly appear and spread again, infinite in its education cycle.

"Callum, Right? How are you doing today?"

He turns his gaze to the victor as she stands next to him, dropping his name and making polite small talk. His heart tells him that she means well, but a small voice in the back of his mind cannot figure out just why another victor would extend their help to tributes from another district. He'd seen the tributes from Eleven, seen Cyro's son on the recaps form the television. Why help me, instead of bring her own tributes home?

"It's Callum, yeah. I'd be remiss to say I didn't know who you were, Katelyn." He says, averting his gaze as he moves to use the aloe vera gel on the arm instead, planning to compare the two to see which is more fast-acting and useful. He looks back to the Victor, a confused look flashing across his face.

"No offense but, I never imagined Victors to help tributes outside their district. Why help me?"

charade
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come to pass [Callum/Katelyn] Jun 11, 2020 20:56:33 GMT -5

Post by charade on Jun 11, 2020 20:56:33 GMT -5

k a t e l y n .

Move me, improve me, ignite the flame that ruled me
Guide me, collide me, I need something to survive me

Well, of course he knew who she was, she mused.

As she had grown up watching reruns of Heron being carried, of Mace watching a fiery coracle drift away from the iceberg and the hourglass filled with ever shifting sand, so too had this generation grown up with the Tri11ogy, Justice Fray and Shelby outlasting over fifty tributes. It was a sobering thought, to think that she was already in her thirties.

No offense, he said, confused that a victor from another district would give him a pointer. It was true that most of the other victors kept to themselves and to their tributes. But then, Katelyn wasn’t most victors. Something had drawn her towards Callum, and she wasn’t entirely sure what. Maybe it was because she had spent most of her time at this station too; not that it had helped much when everything was covered in frost.

“I won’t lie to you. I’m going to do everything in my power to get Cyro home to his son and Arabella home to her parents.” And it was true. She would, there was no point in pretending otherwise. It was her job, even though the people upstairs had made her life hell for doing the job better than they’d expected. But she could only give so much advice, secure so many sponsorships before surviving the games was entirely in the hands of her tributes.

“But,” she continued, thinking of the lofty ideals Vasco often talked about. Of the interconnectivity needed between districts. How in the end they were stronger together. It was a nice dream for a harsh reality. “Right now, you’re a scared and worried kid, just like I was. Like all of us victors were. Just because you aren’t from my district doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a fighting chance to come home.”She left it unsaid that she’d seen just how terrible he’d been with the weapons.

She tapped the display, the words crawling across the screen next to Callum’s changing to describe how aloe vera was useful for burn damage as well as skin irritation. “The world would be a better place if we all chose to be kind.”