R U S H

[rushwatts-blog]

elektra sat up on the couch, pulling her legs up and curling them underneath her crossed arms, as she watched rush grab his needed temptations to enjoy the night and sit across from her. her eyes watched as he lit the cigarette, the bright red flick of a flame that almost sent her in a trance as she recalled memories of smoke swirling throughout her childhood living room where her father was surrounded by empty liquor bottles and ash. it was a fowl smell that she was all accustomed to in the devil’s lair—so many of the delinquent teens carried cigarettes between teeth as they fought in the ring, sometimes pressing the bud deep into the opponent’s skin to leave marks that last a lifetime.

elektra rubbed her wrist, where the first cigarette branding she received was placed by an older guy she fought almost four years ago. “no,” elektra spoke. her voice clear as day, chin tilted up, as if she was better than those vices with a roll of her eyes. “and i don’t drink whatever it is you decided to bring to the table.”

with the snap of a finger, an avox in the corner of the main room quickly rushed over. “grab me a cup of coffee—black.” elektra waved her hand away, ushering the mute girl to run into the kitchen. “so rush,” elektra turned her attention back to her partner, with a smirk. “how are you loving the capitol?”

The girl that sat across from Rush was very well manicured. She moved with purpose, aware of every part of herself and how to present it. Her face was something of a sculpture at the moment, but Rush had seen it before, in glimpses. Maybe a quick interaction in the streets of Three, or maybe a favor done. He wasn’t sure, he wasn’t sure of much at all these days. Some familiarity brought comfort to Rush. He’d been tense since the train doors closed behind him after having had nobody visit him before his departure.

he shrugged and leaned back on the couch, choosing to follow Elektra’s lead on bluntness he opted to leave the glasses empty on the table.

He waved his hand outward, the neck of the bottle clutched in his grasp. “Oh it’s pretty fucking grand don’t you think?” He cheered breathlessly. “24 hour fucking service in our little luxury cage, i’m having a great time.” He took another sip from the bottle.

“And how about yourself, miss Elektra.”

[rushwatts-blog]

“but this place is huge! way bigger than where I live. and there’s so much food! you should get food.” Monday hadn’t yet realized that the avoxes in the tower could bring her food if she asked them, she was just excited there was food.

“i guess so.” she said, before easing her way onto the floor, leaning all the more heavily on the wall as she failed to mask the pain it caused in her leg. she winced, but didn’t cry.

“can i try some?” Monday was a curious kid and always would be. especially when it came to food.

It didn’t feel huge to him, he could see miles of tall buildings but couldn't reach farther than the windows. Guards at every locked door, patrolling every hallway. His heart began to erupt again and he broke out in a sweat.

But then the thought of the girl now struggling to sit beside him made him crack a smile, leading to an abrupt burst of laughter behind a heavy sip from the bottle.

He placed it down between the two seated tributes and waved his hands outward, presenting the bottle to the child. With a grin he said “Absolutely, the best the Capitol has to offer.”

[rushwatts-blog]

mondaytwilight

Misty had spent the last 20 minutes in her bedroom sitting on her bed. it was soft, and had like a thousand blankets! and a million pillows, and curtains hanging off the sides. it was all wonderful…

until she’d ran out of edible cookie dough.

with a quick trip to the bathroom (she’d begun hoarding a selection of those drinks that made you puke) Monday exited the suite, using the only way she could. the elevator.

when the door opened, someone else was there. she waved at him, a perky “Hi!” being chirped up as she limped in. her left leg was turned out all the way to the side, and she leaned heavily on her crutch. clearly a cripple child. “where are you going?” she asked, leaning against the wall of the elevator instead of the crutch when she was inside. but don’t think that didn’t mean she wasn’t still looking out one of the other glass windows. “you’re sitting down.” she observed. “what are you drinking? is it yummy?”

Rush looked at the girl with quite a perplexed expression on his face. He had not interacted with many children, nor does he feel like he ever was one. She walked with a limp, assisted by a crutch but had a very cheerful demeanor. Also confusing.

His brows furrowed at her question. Why was she asking him that? “Just taking a ride on the elevator. Not sure if you noticed but there is nowhere to go.” He stated, turning his gaze back to his reflection that reappeared once the doors closed again.

“You’re standing up.” He replied, holding out the bottle of dark liquid. “oh yeah, tastes great.”

[rushwatts-blog]

Rush x Monday

Rush began to lose his mind. Bursts of dread and hysteria kept washing over him and he was officially out of cigarettes. Good thing there was no shortage of bottles in the Capitol. Rush snatched a mostly full bottle of dark liquor and pushed out into the hallway.

He stopped in front of the large windows that lined the walls around him. This feeling of not knowing where he is has never been at the peak it’s reached here. Frustrated and unwilling to take control at the moment, rush delivered himself to the elevator where he sat motionless on the ground. He watched as the doors shut in front of him, enclosed in this tiny room of mirrors with only the faint hum of electricity. Here he waited, for a few minutes, until the elevator began to rise.

He took a large drink from the bottle as the number ‘11′ lit up just before the doors opened, revealing a...child.

“oh my god.” He whispered.

[bloodyinez]

TIME: AFTER STYLING  LOCATION: DISTRICT THREE SUITE    STATUS: CLOSED @RUSHWATTS 

elektra walked back to the suite with avis after the consultation she had with her stylists. her body was burning, head to toe had been waxed and colored for an even complexion; her scars that covered her entire body were covered in practice for the tribute parades. it was in the elevator that avis found it appropriate to mention how the capitol had a perceived notion of elektra’s character during the reaping, and it was the advice avis decided to give elektra during the quick elevator ride that had sent elektra over the edge. “be more kind!” avis warned, “the capitol is always watching.” 

she rolled her eyes; scoffing at receiving parental advice from someone that was dressed as a toucan. the brightly colored feathered dressed that hugged avis’s figure was astonishingly too much for elektra to stare at, blinded by the vast array of colors, feathers that jutted out and poked elektra in the gut as they walked to the suite. “fuck the capitol,” elektra yelled, ensuring that if they were watching, they had to be listening: and elektra wanted to be heard. “and get the fuck away from me, please. and yes that’s me trying to be nice.” 

elektra walked into the suite first, and b-lined straight to the couch, that was designed to match district three’s electric aesthetic, which she threw herself onto without much care of how avis would perceive it. grabbing onto the nearest pillow that she could reach, elektra pulled it closer and shoved her face into it. a loud muffled scream, barricaded by the pillow, was exactly what elektra needed to release tension; but it was throwing the pillow as far away from her as possibly and knocking over the vase full of fresh roses that made her wicked laugher fill the room. when elektra heard a door open behind her, she glanced over her shoulder, smirking at the sight of her district partner. “well look who could join us, avis. the boy himself!”

[rushwatts-blog]

Rush hadn’t seen his skin free of all his scars like this before. All the tiny circles of red left behind by burning cigarettes have vanished, but he could still feel them. He began aggressively rubbing at his skin, wiping away their camouflage and revealing what’s really underneath. A few spots on his arms bloomed with blood, but he just yanked his sleeves back down and headed towards the elevator.

It was a short ride up the third floor where he’d be staying while awaiting his death....That thought lingered, Rush hadn’t really thought about that possibility, of dying in the arena. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment before blooming a smile on his face and stepping out of the elevator and directly over to the bar.

He peered over his shoulder when the girl that came with him to the Capitol directed her attention towards him. His focus shifted back to the bar where he reached over to grab an unopened bottle of clear liquid, an ashtray, and a pair of glasses.

Rush placed the bottle on the table and that glasses, taking a seat across from the girl he lit a cigarette. He held out the pack towards her, lifting one eyebrow.

“You smoke?”

[rushwatts-blog]

Reaping

Rush woke up the morning of the reaping with his hair glued to his face with sweat, and a new burn stinging his flesh from, what he assumed, a game of chicken with Teo. From the look of it, Rush won. But he usually did. He sat up on the edge of the bed and quickly lit a cigarette. It wasn’t until he released a cloud of thick smoke into the air that he realized he had no idea where he was. He turned to find a form wrapped in sheets, rising and falling steadily.

He let out a low sigh and stood up from the bed and walked towards the small kitchen in the corner. He filled up a glass of water from the sink, peering out the window. Dozens of heads below, all walking in a silent march in the same direction. Another sigh.

He dropped the burning filter into the glass and left it on the counter before gathering his things, fastening his belt and stepping into the hallway and joining the crowds. This was where his calm demeanor melted away. He quickly shoved his hands into his pockets as his shoulders began to tense up. His eyes hastily darted to the floor and his pace quickened. His breath began hissing through gritted teeth in fast succession.

He began shoving into people as he passed them, only able to focus on the thought of helping this go by faster. The faster he’d get there, the faster they’ll call someones name, the faster he can leave. The crowd grew thicker as he hurried closer to the square, and then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Belonging to another boy on his way to the reaping that Rush had shoved aside.

“Fucking prick!” He announced, calling the attention of those in their immediate vicinity.

But Rush hadn’t even turned to see his face before he felt the boys jaw crunching against his elbow. He turned, a look of shock almost parallel to the faces looking back at him, surrounding him. He looked down to see the boy writhing on the floor and he swallowed hard. He returned his fist to his pocket and turned on his heels, resuming his journey through the crowd.

Once he’d gotten his finger poked and directed to his section, Rush became a statue. Standing motionless, just as tense, staring blankly ahead towards the stage. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, which he quickly wiped away. He shoved another cigarette in his mouth and inhaled deeply. He began to feel his shoulders rest and his heart rate slow as he refreshed his lungs with smoke.

Suddenly there was a large bird woman on stage tapping her talons against the microphone. She welcomed everyone to the reaping and began the video. As the Capital anthem rang in his ears, Rush could feel his stomach hollowing out. It started to become difficult for him to even swallow but he still clung to that cigarette.

Rush blinked his eyes, trying to snuff out the sting of his own sweat when a large, familiar looking girl took the stage.

“And now, for the boys.” The escort cheered.

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“Rush Wattson!”

Rush’s face jetted up to meet the woman on stage, confusion engulfing him. Had she really said  it? Rush’s face grew a grin and the entire square looked on at him with confusion as loud boisterous laughter began to spew out of him. He clutched onto the shoulder of the kid next to him, exclaiming “Thats fucking me.” Before continuing with another bout of excessive laughter.

He began shoving people aside, pushing his way into the aisle. Clutching onto his stomach and wiping tears from his eyes. He stood proudly in the middle and threw his hand up into the air.

“I’m Rush Wattson!” He announced through his own cackling.

He strutted down the aisle, ready to take his position on stage next to the two women waiting for him. Snickering still, he stood next to his fellow tribute and lit another cigarette.

“Ladies and gentlemen may I present to you, your District Three tributes in the 45th annual Hunger Games!”

Her announcement was quickly punctuated by even more nasty laughter from Rush and followed by a bought of coughing and chocking on cigarette smoke before the three disappeared into the Justice building.

[thebloodypageant-deactivated202]

( maxence danet fauvel ) meet RUSH WATTSON, the EIGHTEEN year old TRIBUTE from district THREE. his weapon of choice are SPARK PLUGS, and around the tribute tower she’s known as the ERRATIC.

tw:  alcoholism

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