#gmnarcissa

[little-red-finch]

Come on, Skinny Love, just last the year. || Disaster

It was the sunshine streaming down in the morning that woke me from my sleep, otherwise I never would have wanted to open my eyes. My head rested against the sinewy muscle of his arm having must of slipped there during the night when my eyelids finally fell too heavy and Neverland came my way.

His eyes soon opened, I knew, at the feeling of my movement. Brown eyes fluttered wide open as they attempted to accept the light was offering. A smile crossed my lips as I look at his sleepy face. “Morning,” I muttered leaning my face back into his arm, the smell of dirt and sweat and him strong. I didn’t want to move because I knew. I knew. “That stupid memory—,” I said with my voice still soft as he made a small moan of acknowledgement, “At the ball. Being held by a boy in a mask with brown eyes. Just ace.” The words of my voice as it paused with each sentence caused my breath to dance across the exposed skin of his arm as did a smirk grow across my own face.

I heard him begin to speak, his voice begin to form words but it all meant nothing when the explosion sounded and shook the earth. Some believe the world will end in fire. Some believe it will end with water, with ice. But there are those of us, who against better judgement, choose answer C.) but for once, it’s wrong.

There was silence as I sat up just as he did after the first shake, I turning to look at him, my face expressionless but my eyes showing the fear I felt. And all at once a canopy of birds erupted from the trees around us forming a tapestry of multiple colors. Beauty at its finest, but there was no time for that as another wave shook through. We were birds bobbing in the ocean, calm and still but with waves ready to happen at any time.

Whether someone heard me or not did not matter anymore. This was it for those eight of us remaining. My voice screamed, howled like the wolf within me for Larka, wherever she may be. One of my pack gone, but with no time for finding my sister. The naked soles of my paws tried to run, tried to stand as another quake erupted splitting the ground. A knife, a knife. My knife. My hands have found their old familiar friend, and out of the corner of my vision could I see Larka running towards us, her voice making meaningless attempts to speak, but the frantic attempts conveyed what she could not.

A song played in my ears deafening all else as I ran, struggled to stay afoot when all else around me fell to pieces; the whispers of the angels accompanied by the beating of my heart as their drumbeat. And the drumming in my head grew louder and louder with each step that I took until I fell and stumbled feeling cuts across legs and the palms of my hands. Scratches in which the crimson plasma pours from but bothered me no longer.

I had held it in for so long, but now they had set the beast inside of me running free. For my flesh had turned to fur as my paws beat the hallow’d ground that shook with tremors as I ran like prey from the hunter. Yet there was no escaping even whether or not I managed to fly free. The Capital, these Gamemakers were the Predators. Augustus’ words finally made sense to me.

There is no more holding back. I’m ready to attack with every fiber and being in my body. These fellow tributes of mine are nothing less than the animal I am. They have no pain, no feeling, no remorse. They’re animals, small and weak and simple minded just as I am. 

And at last the rumbles and shaking stop. I stagger to get my footing. Behind and in front of me are large holes in the ground. Logan and Larka are missing. They could be anywhere now. Perhaps they fell into one of these cracks. Perhaps they are dead.

Larka, sweet and lovely, the Little Lark. No, she can’t be dead. No, neither can Logan, whose thought of death only makes wish I too were dead with the longing in my heart. 

A crack, a crunch of a fallen branch. Someone is here, and they will die at the hands of me. I’ll have their blood, ruby and thick, drip from my knife any cost. I turn towards it, knife braced in hand. It’s no longer a weapon, as I once saw it, but an extension of my arm. It feels a part of me just like any other piece of me. I’m ready to cut, to kill. But no.

Because it’s Logan, torn and cut and wide eyed like me like a doe caught in the headlights. I drop my left hand down to my side because I’m aware that it’s a weapon. I open my mouth to speak, but no words can come out. No words could justify anything that has happen. Instead I take a step forward towards him, but my head is swimming and I collapse at his feet, tears streaming from my eyes mixing with the dirt and blood on my face reminding me what it means to be human.

But he does not leave me there. Instead he lifts me up and wraps me in his arms, carrying me like the small child I feel I am. He supports me when I know he can barely support himself, and with the slightest touch he makes me feel like my skin is on fire. Not fur, but skin. And for that, I cup his face with my hands. Hands meant for feeling and touching and living, but instead cut and clattered with dried blood and mud. And I bring him forward until I can see into his eyes, and yes. I’m sure as it’s always been.

And our lips are touching, the pattern of his breaking against mine and mine coming back strong and longingly having done what we wanted to do that night but too fearful to do so. Here in the face of death does my tongue graze the inside of his lip before I have to pull away. No words. Not one because we both know. We know. 

I bury my head into the curve of his shoulder and neck as he cradles me in his arms. And we walk because in front of us is our first and last salvation.

The Cornucopia.

[barton-templey-blog]

Training Wrap-Up

Stations Visited:

Swords

Climbing

Fire Starting

Archery

Camouflage

Hand to Hand

Tributes Interacted With:

Jayne

Verma

June

Melody

Paxton

Jasmine

Echo

[loganbaxwoll-blog]

Training Day Four Summary

Tributes that you Interacted with: Larka (note: I took it as day 4 since day 3 logan trained alone), Verma Important character growth(alliances, enemies, lovers, misbehave?): None

Note: I'd say Logan and Irma could almost be friends, but that was from the first day. No alliance though, just possibly friends.

[little-red-finch]

Training Day Three Summary

Stations trained at: Fishing; Edible Plants/Insects; Ax; Third Floor

Tributes that you interacted with: Echo; Irma; Atlas

Important character growth (alliances, enemies, lovers, misbehave?): Hinted at alliance with Echo; 

[little-red-finch]

Oh, you pretty things. || A Private Meeting

The seventh level of the training center was oddly quiet for the afternoon; James seemed to be busy down in the lower levels, and the prep team was busy preparing for interviews in the coming days. 

I sat in a large plush chair in the main room, and Thaddeus stood at the small bar across the room fixing himself a drink. It had been like this for the past few evenings. As much as I needed the sleep, there was too much excitement and anxiety and thoughts to rest my mind. 

My fingers picked at the chord detailing lining the arms of the chair, my posture aggressively poor as I sank down into it further. Thaddeus strode across the room as he took a seat across from myself and placed his drink on the table next to him, the fact the glass was sweating not at all bothering him that he'd ruin the furniture. 

"Private training is tomorrow," he said after a brief pause that stirred the quiet air around us. I made no hint that I had paid any attention or any interest in what he said. Lifting his drink to his lips, he took a long swig of the alcohol. Since we arrived here, it seemed as if he had been in a constant state of numbness. He still cared and still spoke with his passion, but his green eyes, both the normal and dilated seemed dulled in a way that few people's could ever been.

"You need to show them tomorrow," he continued after resting his drink back on the table. This caught my attention and I look towards him seeing a new expression on his face. Impressing them had never been the plan. I was supposed to remain in the background, he had told me before. That's how no one would remember you or see you as a threat, but this, as he was now telling me, seemed like a death wish were I to follow through.  

"Why?" my voice spoke softly, yet with an urgency to know. "You had said not to in training; why now?"

"Because it's part of the plan. Give them the knowledge that you've got the potential, but leave the tributes wondering just for what," he answers, his voice slowed and his face showing signs of weariness.

I nod taking in what he told me. My meaning I had been searching for seem to be coming ever nearer now.

Soon.

[loganbaxwoll-blog]

Training Days Two and Three Summaries

Tributes that you Interacted with: Paxton, James (day 2 - both in progress) None - self para (day 3)

Important character growth(alliances, enemies, lovers, misbehave?):  None 

[loganbaxwoll-blog]

As Hidden as a Ninja. | Logan

Within the first two days of training, Logan met and talked to four tributes: the pair from seven, the girl from four, and the boy from one. On the third day of training, Rocco thought it was best to train the day, alone. Especially when the boy chose to learn how to fight and build his strength on the last two days of training. Rocco told him to try and train, while the other tributes weren't around.

Trying to sneak out the night before for training, hoping he wouldn't wake anyone, was hard enough. And now, all throughout the day?

Logan did as he was told, ate a snack and gulped down some of the blue liquid, and raced back to his room. On his bed laid his training outfit, smooth and clean. He took a shower and quickly put on the outfit. He was on his way out, when Rocco called out again: " And hey! Don't move too fast!" Logan stopped before he left the suite, and slowly closed the door behind him. He knew what he meant. Outside of the suite, he couldn't give away his speed.

Down in the training center, it was so early, no one was there. He only got a good look at his bruise, while in the shower, and the purplish reddish color it was giving off, was slowly going away. He walked over to the station on hand-to-hand combat, and learned a few moves from the Instructor. While teaching him to block, the man went in and lightly tapped his foot against his stomach, and Logan flinched. He wasn't there to see his bruise  so Logan told him about it. " Fair enough. I'll avoid it. But if you're going to be fighting in these games, you better hope it gets better before training ends."

He only had about an hour and a half, before the second tribute showed up. Logan told him didn't want to fight in front of the other tributes, so they stopped. When more showed up, Logan decided to learn two other survival stations: the knot tying station, and the traps and snares station. He didn't mean to learn any more survival stations, but he didn't want to leave the training room, yet. After his hands had grown tired of tying knots and setting up traps, he left the training room.

He came back to his suite just to eat lunch before the rest of the tributes, and headed back down as all the other tributes left for their own lunch, or to the cafeteria.

This time, Logan had much more time to fight. He asked more specific questions, like how to fight someone with a weapon, and a few moves of how to get out of tight situations. The Instructor told him of places on the body that Logan could hit, that would give him enough time to escape. Moves that could kill. Unlike the rest of the stations, Logan caught onto this station, much faster. He was still the fastest on his feet, but he was starting to build speed with his hands. He smiled to himself. Maybe he could make it out, alive.

He sparred with the Instructor, rather than another tribute. When their target area was open, they stopped their movement, before they hit each other, out of respect for his bruise. Logan was so good at it now, he knew he'd be able to follow through with no problem, when the time had come.

Another few hours had passed, and tributes rolled in, once more. Logan left as they came in. He spent a majority of the rest of the day, trying to mend his bruise from what he learned down at the first aid station. It was meant for when they were in the wild, but if he learned it there, he could do it here. Again, he ate his dinner early, just to go back down to the training center around the time other tributes had dinner.

The last part of his day he spent at the Weight lifting station. He wasn't as strong as Rocco, but he wasn't weak either. The Instructor there gave him a few weights to begin with, based on his age and size. He was doing okay at first, but then he was given one pair of heavy weights, and his arms dropped to the floor. He spent the next few hours pumping iron with the weights he could lift, making himself stronger. He only used the bigger weights briefly, just in case he had to deal with something, or someone, stronger than himself. By 10:00pm, Logan was done training for day 3.

Logan went back to his room, exhausted for the day. He showered and threw his training outfit, somewhere on the chair in his room. He put on some night clothes and fell down on his bed, falling asleep in seconds.

[loganbaxwoll-blog]

Training Day One Summary