#ch:archer

[angel-archivist]

Little Bastards 

[asamilligan]

the new is in | archer + asa

He was fighting to stay awake, and he was fighting to try and make sense of everything going on around him. The was fighting hard, but he was tired of fighting in any form. He had been fending for himself and for a portion of the time, trying to fend for a half of him for longer than he could count now. That was over, but now he didn't know what to do with himself. He couldn't put a fight anymore, though. He was drained, mostly emotionally. Asa rubbed his eyes before gathering his thoughts and he walked out of his room, to no where specific. He really had no where to go. 

District 13 was nothing like he had imagined it to be, it was more technology and more advanced than the "deserted and bombed and left alone to defend for themselves" District that he had heard about. It made him feel strange, but the more he thought about it, the description of the made-up to be 13, sounded a lot like him. He had stooped that low, he was bombed, deserted and left alone to defend for himself. 

He had burn marks, cuts, scars all over his face that proved he wasn't whole anymore, everyone he knew that he could think of wasn't around anymore, and he was dropped in a random place where no one would answer his questions. 

I've been bombed, deserted, and left to defend for myself. 

The only option he had was to deal with it, the same way he had to deal with being Reaped. As much as he hated it, the other option was probably death or going back to Panem. He much preferred a new life, no matter how hard it would be. He couldn't change being in the Games, he couldn't wish them away on a star that would never shoot by. Asa couldn't make up new memories in his head of his little sister because they would be nothing but illusions. He wasn't about to trick himself further into a false reality. 

He just kept walking, walking no where and walking everywhere his feet would take him. The halls never seemed to end and no one around seemed to want to stop him. They probably already deemed him mental, which he really didn't mind, if it meant they would leave him alone. He didn't know what the signs on the doors meant, no one gave him any kind of direction at all. At least not yet. But he heard rustling, and noises from one of the doors and he stopped in front of it. It was cracked already, so what was the harm of pushing it open a little further? Multiple voices and loud clashes seemed like it was okay to be there.