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@biirdscng-blog
MUTED. GUESS WHO’S BACK AFTER HURDLING ALL HER FINALS!! ( we’ll have to wait a few days to see if i .....actually cleared those hurdles but whatever ). i’m gunna be working on my drafts on my long bus ride home, so hit this up if you’d like a starter!!
MUTED. hey guys! it’s the most STRESSFUL time of the year, so this blog will have to be put on hold for the next few days while i try to scrape my act together and pull through my finals. catch you on the flipside!!
( KRESS ) *
HE FINISHES CUTTING RUE from the net, pulling her to her feet and away from the… mess. he doesn’t let go of her hand; his fingers are trembling too much to remove themselves from comfort. and it helps to touch her, to remind himself physically over and over again that he got there in time. when he heard her calling him, screaming his name with fear and breaking lacing her tone, he’d nearly retched, and then when marvel rounded the corner, spear in hand, kress had nearly stopped breathing. but he hadn’t vomited or died. instead, he’d shot the handsome boy from district 1, the kid who’d been one of the top picks to win from the beginning. kress can still see his smile in his mind, though he’s just lying on his back now, crumbled across from kress and rue, pretty eyes glossed and wide open facing the artificial sky.
“… we gotta go,” he says, tearing his gaze from marvel. he can’t be amused. not now. maybe not ever again, his heart aches. “he’s probably not the only one who heard you callin’ for me. there’s still… cato and clove to watch out for.” he won’t think about penna, and he won’t think about thresh – who’ll be able to break kress in half if he wants – and he won’t think about retrieving the arrow from marvel’s corpse, no matter how badly he needs whatever weaponry he can salvage.
kress doesn’t smile, and rue didn’t really expect him to. after all, the amusement in her voice had been SHADOWED by her own quivering heart in her throat ( with every beat she RELIVES it; one minute she’d been on a branch and the next falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs and rope, golden eyes staring down the point of a spear, fingers clawing themselves RAW against the rough weave of a net --- ‘kress! kress! ’ ). DEATH is not a foreign concept to her, nor is flirting with it --- she’s well aware of the danger she toes every time she ducks into the meadow to forge for roots and stuff berries down the front of her shirt --- but this had felt so much DIFFERENT.
she is far too young to have stared death straight in the eye ( there is no such thing as too YOUNG in the arena ).
the pains are still there: the scratchiness in her throat, the torn ends of her fingers. she wills them away. kress made it in time; kress is HERE with his hand tight around hers and a look that could incinerate. she clutches back too, eyes roaming the forest, their hands a LIFELINE ( though for who’s sake, that’s more difficult to tell ). rue has never HAD someone to look out for her like this ( SHE is the eldest; SHE does the sneaking and the protecting ), and she finds the sensation not UNWELCOME. “ kress --------- thank you. ”
this is the kinda place i see in my dreams
this is a dream
MUTED. it snowed today and it made me so happy even tho it was a very blustery cold walk to class. give this a like if you’d a like a starter!!
( GAYLE ) *
she can’t help looking down, grey eyes trying not to glare at the floor, to yell that this isn’t FAIR. kress deserved better than this, better than being a memory that they danced & got drunk to. “ kress wanted you to win. “ gayle still doesn’t bother to look up as she speaks, one hand moving to the band that held her knot together. she tugged at it, pulling the curls free. one by one she removed the bobby pins, letting each one slip from her fingertips as she did so. “ if he had watched YOU die, it would have killed him. “ she understood that he was gone, brought back in one of the wooden boxes that the capitol is gracious enough to bury their victims in, but she could still see him smiling at her from across their meadow. she could still pinpoint the sparkle in his eyes when he concentrated, the laugh that he reserved only for aster. she could see him plowing through the door at her home in the victor’s village. she could still see the sparkle leave when she watched him die on screen, a mentor losing a tribute, & a friend losing all she had. even haymitch pitied her.
rue doesn’t know what she WANTS from gayle; what she thought she would gain from apologizing. she knows what she wants ( for kress to be alive, for the games to have never happened, to have DIED at marvel’s spear had she known VICTORY would be this painful portrait ). kress had been KIND to her, shown something akin to love in a place that does nothing but take and shatter --- she had known him for a handful of days, and she cannot imagine the pain rooted in someone who had kress at their side for years ( who had fought and killed and won to return to a home with kress in it ). ‘ if he had watched you die, it would have killed him ’ gayle says, and rue knows it to be true --- she wonders if he knew watching him die would kill them too.
( the games don’t leave room for VICTORS --- only survivors ).
“ i --- ” she reaches out, fingers arching toward the taller’s elbow only to pause, lingering in the space halfway between them for a moment before dropping to bury themselves in the soft silks of her skirt. perhaps she has TRIED her best here and FAILED ( no one wants a REMINDER of what they lost prodding them with SYMPATHIES ). ‘ he loved you, too ’ she wants to say, but her mind wrapped in survivor’s guilt doesn’t let her. because she’s the one standing here, not kress; because she can’t help but THINK that maybe if he had loved gayle a little more, he WOULD. “ how much longer do you think it will last? ” she says finally, meaning this, the party, the guests, the celebration that rubs salt into wounds. ( she wonders if there isn’t a SECOND meaning behind the question as well ).
MUTED. adIOS friends. i am #doNE for tonight here.
( KRESS ) *
A SMILE BREAKS OVER his face as the trees sing with rue. the birds are calling to each other, to kress, to rue, to everyone back home listening through their television sets. they’re all connected and happy in that moment. kress never feels like this outside of the woods – his and gayle’s woods, not these artificial arena woods – but rue is so much like aster, so innocent and small and smart and pure, that he does not remember to be solemn and stern and safe with his emotions – with his heart. “my father sang to some mockingjays once,” he reminisces quietly, his attention still fixed on the trilling flocks about them. “there aren’t many of ‘em left in twelve though… you got ‘em in eleven?”
she DECIDES the bush has yielded enough berries and plops down beside kress, the bottom of her shirt turned temporarily into a pouch for the fruit. “ oh yes --- ” she says around a few berries, eyes cast upwards and ears ringing with a familiar song ( perhaps, if only for a moment, if she closes her eyes for a moment she can pretend to be HOME among orchard trees and open SKY ). “ they’re a few that are my FRIENDS --- we sing together, helps make the work day pass so much QUICKER. they help me pass messages too. like that. ” she nods up at the singing trees, the wistful look still not GONE from her eyes. her sigh is quiet, lost with the breeze through the treetops and the mockingjays singing to remind her of home --- gratitude is not so much SPOKEN as it is expressed, her small form nestled up against kress’.
totally not replying because of my reply to @biirdscng nope nah nada.
( KRESS ) *
THE WHISTLING BIRDS are the only ones to break the silence of the arena. it’s almost peaceful, almost perfect, almost passable as something beautiful, not deadly. but kress isn’t fooled into complacency and keeps his bow resting against his leg in readiness, only half-balanced on the ground, as he sharpens a few of his arrowheads. gray eyes wander the trees before returning to the small girl at his side. “what kind of birds are those? never heard those songs before.”
@biirdscng // because it’s a thing everybody needs
rue pauses from stripping a bush of it’s berries, more an IDLE pass time as they rest than any URGENT need for nourishment ( it never hurts to be prepared ). her own golden eyes drift upwards where the flash of a wing or white underbelly can just be seen and she can’t help but SMILE ( genuine, pure --- rare in the arena and it ought to be PROTECTED ). they’re a tenuous piece of home like the star she wears around her neck yet one all the same. “ mockingjays. ” she tells him, voice almost wistful. “ their songs aren’t always their own --- listen. ” the four note melody tumbles from her lips almost without her thinking, the notes LINGERING in the air for a moment before the trees are RINGING with it.
“ their FACES must have been PRICELESS. ” rue says, gentle amusement prodding at her silent companion a soft smile accompanying at the prompt ( worried because she’d tailed kress long enough before their ALLIANCE to know the boy from ONE was his FIRST ). she too tries to not feel responsible on her part for not noticing the cleverly placed net --- she can see it now in her memory, the too clear ground, the uneasiness in her gut she’s shaken off as apprehension FAMILIAR in the arena.
@heburned ( x )
“ how much LONGER will it last? ” the question sounds plaintive even to her ears, almost lost amidst the beats of music that pulse through the party meant for HER ( it’s not meant for her, she reminds herself, it’s MEANT to be a reminder ). “ it’s ---- ” rue trails off. it seems as if this evening has d r a g g e d on, the numbers on clocks significantly slowed with her heart never stopping its quick staccato rapping against her ribs. she feels CONSTRICTED --- by fabric, by people, by noise. she can’t BREATHE.
@worldsaflame ( x )
( GAYLE )*
her stylist makes her feel unknown in her own district, the way people watch the glittering of her cocktail dress ( so unlike the way they look at her when she’s bringing them food & trading in the hob ). her has is pulled up in a knot at the back of her head, lips painted a cherry red, dress green & glistening against the light. she feels sick, pretending to party with this young girl while her friend is DEAD. but she knows kress, knows that if there was anyone that should have one besides himself, it is the little girl that moved through trees as if she was flying. there’s a sickening feeling in the base of her stomach, but when she looks down at rue, she can’t help but see her sisters. “ you don’t have to apologize. “ it may have been the first thing she had said tonight that wasn’t FAKE.
gayle looks nothing like she did during her games. but then again, victors never seem too; beauty and finery erasing out any flaws and blinding the tragedies that got them here in the first place --- rue’s already learned that in a short few months. girls screaming themselves hoarse in the middle of the night is not the sort of GOOD entertainment the capitol wishes to put out . “ i --- i DO. ” she says finally, “ if i hadn’t ---- if ---- if i weren’t here, kress ---- kress WOULD. ” she can’t look the other victor in the eye. it’s HARD to say, even though the thought plagues her in the worst sort of memory ( blood, so much BLOOD, and in the middle of it all the flash of dark berries tumbling between trembling lips --- ‘ it’s ALRIGHT, rue ’ --- but it’s NOT ). she wonders if the GUILT will ever stop gnawing at her.
( her escort looks over with a frown, and rue forces a trembling sort of smile onto her lips ).
( KATNISS ) *
The tracker jackers’ stings had faded out of her blood system, but the female tribute from Twelve was still disorientated after being asleep for a few days. She looked over at her new ally, Rue, “What’s got a smile on your face?” she teased.
“ TWO is missing his LUCKY dagger again. ” rue quips, flashing the fine blade at the other as proof. perhaps ‘lucky’ may have been a bit of an overstatement seeing as WEAPONS are not permitted as district tokens, but the girl cannot help but feel smug at her repeat offence at stealing the much bigger boy’s weapon ( SADLY, the theft would do little in means of disadvantage the career pack who had little WANT for more weaponry --- a missing dagger would go mostly unnoticed ). “ how are you feeling? ”
( JOHANNA ) *
as with every year, there is a victor. & a victor this girl is, though her games stood out more to johanna than any others’ had. ( well, since her OWN, of course. ) the older victor approaches with curiosity, and at first, silence befalls her as she eyes the young girl briefly. a passing comment, a greeting, is given as she tilts her head so slightly toward her —- rue.
“ i’m sure eleven has a lot less pines, huh? victory tour’s real overwhelming, getting dragged through all of the districts in such little time. ”
“ most trees’re fruit trees. ” she agrees, slender fingers squeezed tight around her glass. golden eyes peer up at the other --JOHANNA MASON, her mind supplies helpfully thanks to her escort’s schooling on ‘victors of district seven. she is not wrong that tour is overwhelming, though to rue it ALMOST feels as if the districts are starting to run together --- did she say that in district eight or nine? did she rip her dress hiding in nine or ten? “ it smells nicer here, though. ” rue takes a sip of her drink for lack of other things to busy herself with --- coughs as bubbles tickle her throat.
“ sit STILL. ” rue says, not completely unkindly as she chews herbs and salt into a paste --- it tastes awful, but it will keep infection out of that wound. to say peeta looks a little worse for wear would be an EXTREME understatement, but she keeps that opinion to herself and spits the dark green poultice into her palm. “ this is going to STING a bit. ”
@wroughtwar ( x )
MUTED. hey nERds. how about a starter call???
