hazardous hearts | {hbk day 2} | Hunger Games: The RPG

umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]
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hazardous hearts | {hbk day 2} Mar 2, 2021 21:01:28 GMT -5

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Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Mar 2, 2021 21:01:28 GMT -5

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She licked her lips and then spat the taste out of her mouth. The air was electric, for lack of a better word. Charged, almost. Like the air itself was telling a deadly joke and the tributes were the punchline.

She looked out at the bleached landscape, white sun staining all its light touched, and felt just as dangerous as anything else in this forgotten-about nightmare. The wound on her arm was proof that she could rise above, that she had risen above. And she just sat there for some time, staring, kicking her feet, daring to want more than anything already guaranteed. Her gaze lingered on Kyler. Particularly the muscles of his back rippling as he bent and lifted and stretched and existed. She rolled her eyes and looked away before anyone could think the flush of her cheeks was anything more than just aftermath of an elevated heartbeat from combat.

"I could use a smoke," she said, balling her hands into fists. They weren't shaking any more or any less than normally, but there was a feeling of lightness to them, or heaviness? She felt flighty, or fluttery, or some other more advanced word she hadn't ever heard of. All she knew was that it didn't feel good and she didn't have to be the smartest person in the world to know that it probably had something to do with the fact that it had now been well over twenty-four hours since she'd smoked and longer than that since she'd had a drink. If last night was any indicator for what was to come when things went from bad to worse, she was going to need a lot more than a smoke. She was going to need a fucking tranquilizer.

She'd stood to make her way over to Grim when the flash of something silver in the dull sky caught her attention. She feared for a moment it would be another bird mutt, coming to find its friend dead or maybe even coming to finish the first one's job and carry Reagan off into the abyss. But it moved oddly, carried only by the wind, swaying to and fro precariously. Actually, the more she watched it, the more strange it was. Its flight path didn't seem to make any sort of sense, arcing through the air until it landed directly at her feet. A parachute tied to a little leathery pouch. The pouch itself was shiny, only a couple inches wide and a couple more long, no bigger than a box a necklace might come in.

She decided upon further inspection that the fabric of the pouch was snakeskin. On one end there was a golden fastener, and when she unclicked it, she already had a pretty firm guess about what would be waiting inside.

"Oh, fuck yeah."

She pulled one of them out and held it between her teeth, rummaging through her bag until she found her box of matches. In a mocking, sing-song tone, she wiggled an eyebrow at Grim and said, "I get to smoooke, I'm not going crazy noooow!" She pulled out another and handed it over to the District Two girl.

"I'm great, I know. Don't mention it."

Last Edit: Mar 2, 2021 22:04:12 GMT -5 by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris
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hazardous hearts | {hbk day 2} Mar 4, 2021 18:40:50 GMT -5

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Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Mar 4, 2021 18:40:50 GMT -5

K Y L E R

The pain fades as quickly as it arrived.

He's bandaging up his thigh, still trying to laugh off how useless he had been during their fight — taking off his suit for a fleeting moment, feeling that familiar electricity move across his skin. And then his walls are up again, hidden under layers of fabric and a sheet of plastic over his face. There's plenty of things to think, and to say.

But jokes are always easier.

"Upset with how easy we had it today, ladies?" He raises an eyebrow at Grim and Reagan, moving his gaze to the cigarettes shared between them. It's a choice. Not his to make, kind of his to judge. Not really. "Don't let me stop you. But if your sponsor is listening, a few bottles of beer would be greatly appreciated." He chuckles, taking out his pistol.

Then he just stares at it, holding it firm in his hand and lifting it up in front of him. He has his back to his allies, staring out into the unknown they have yet to explore. He squints his left eye, realizing that he needs to practice but can't afford to waste a single bullet. "When do our lessons start, Sutton? After your date with Grim?"

He turns to glance over his shoulder again, smiling through the gas mask as best he can. He knows quite a few things about love and mistakes — he sees right through them. "Not to burst your bubble, just saying it's a little obvious. You have my support, though." And then he's looking at Reagan, all rosy cheeks and a bright grin. She doesn't even know.

"What say we give the lovebirds some privacy, huh? Just you and me."

Flirting with danger has always been his vice of choice.

"What kind of trouble could we get into?"

all my girls got their lace and their crimes.

gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕
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basically miss america

hazardous hearts | {hbk day 2} Mar 5, 2021 20:02:07 GMT -5

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Post by gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕ on Mar 5, 2021 20:02:07 GMT -5

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It was over faster than it started.

Not that she didn't have faith in her rag tag group, but something told her that got off extremely lucky. It had been more than twenty four hours since the Bloodbath and they had yet to see another tribute. The whole situation seemed odd, to Sutton. Didn't the Gamemakers want death? Shouldn't they be pushing for us to find each other? Come to think of it, she hadn't even heard a single canon yet.

The thought made her shiver.

Together, the four of them wandered a slight ways off from their bloody battlefield and took a breather. Hopefully that would be all the action they would see for the day. While it was fast, it was still more than enough for Sutton to be satisfied. Thankfully they all had walked away mostly unscathed, the next time they might not be as lucky. She put her pistol back in her holster and threw herself onto the ground. Her bag rattled as she rummaged through it, searching for bandages. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Reagan giddy to smoke and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Now is not the time or place to be high.

Then again, Lysander managed to make it out when she was barely sober.

It was the sound of Kyler's voice that made her finally look up.

"Upset with how easy we had it today, ladies?"

"I've had more exciting days in District Five," She said with a laugh. It wasn't true, but she was going to most certainly pretend it was. She was scared to find out what would happen if she didn't believe it was the truth. Instead of facing the disasters that lie ahead she buried herself in her bag again, searching for something useful.

"When do our lessons start Sutton?" Her name forced her to look up again. "After your date with Grim?" His sentence had caught her completely off guard. Sutton was so taken aback that the walkie talking she had been fiddling with fell out of her hands. "I don't do dates," Her voice was monotone and her face deadpan.

For once she was telling the truth.

"Not to burst your bubble, just saying it's a little obvious. You have my support, though."

Her cheeks turned bright red and she forced herself to bury her face back into her bag, even though she had completely forgotten what she was doing. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said defiantly, still looking down.

A lie.

And as soon as she was sure Kyler had turned back around she glanced up at Grim for the corner of her eye, desperate to see what her reaction was. Because no matter how much she tried to force herself not to care about the girl from Two-

She did.

❝ moon dust in your hair, stars in your eyes ❞

gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.
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aspiring beam of light

hazardous hearts | {hbk day 2} Mar 5, 2021 21:30:18 GMT -5

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Post by gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin. on Mar 5, 2021 21:30:18 GMT -5

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It's an odd kind of mirror image.

Two girls smiling at each other, blood on their sleeves and in their hair, chests lighter than they had any right to be given the situation that they were in. It reminds you in strange ways of that first night you spent with Reagan, legs curled up underneath you on the bathroom counter, window pulled down and grinning through the pain of the situation, the discomfort. You're sitting there, eyes doing everything in their power not to let their gaze settle on a single head of platinum blonde hair, and you can't help but think about that hesitant little knock on that bathroom stall door, the way you had flicked your lighter and shared a moment so much different from this one, and yet, not.

A girl in distress and pretending not to be.

You suppose that's not so different from the image of you, here, surrounded by electricity and waste, grinning up at Reagan Carbone as she passes you a cigarette.

"You are," you reply quickly, grin broad. "The greatest."

You flop down onto your back, stare up into the sky and wonder where the anthem is, where the cannons are, where all the real horrors are. You know that they have to be out there, that surely there's going to be a moment where you blink and suddenly you're about to die, but that moment isn't now. You know that maybe now isn't the moment to smoke, isn't the moment to inhale death and hope that he doesn't come knocking, but there's Haven's voice in the back of your head telling you that the sensible thing to do would be to find somewhere else to make camp, get moving and make sure that you couldn't be hunted down, and a stubborn and terrible part of you just wants to do anything other than what your sister would tell you to do.

So you use a match that you should be saving for a fire, bring it to the end of the cigarette, and you inhale.

You pretend not to hear Kyler.

That's reckless, and cruel probably too, but you don't have it in you to really hear his words, to think about what they mean, don't want to consider what it is to well and truly care about a person that you've only known for a few days. You don't want to think about the pain you feel at the idea of losing her, don't want to think about the things that happen inside of your chest every time you think about her getting hurt.

Every time you think about her at all.

Still though, your tongue acts before your brain.

"Wanna share this one with me, Mae?" you know that she doesn't seem like the type to smoke, especially not here, but there's that reckless part of your brain that wants to share with her. The part of you that wants her to come and sit next to you and fiddle with the cancer stick between her fingers and maybe graze yours when she passes it back and — "Or you too good for that."