Hurt the First, the Last, Between [Ali/Anzie] Train

[Kire]

Third Person, First Person, Says, Thinks

He was utterly bored with all of the proceedings. Sitting on a train for hours while waiting to reach the Capitol offered no entertainment. The most he could get out of this trip is observing the others who were in here with him. The walls of his cell in the mental hospital had more interesting personalities. Seemingly, the girl who had been reaped alongside that terrified boy was deaf. This made her at least slightly more interesting because he could experiment with her abilities to read lips and to sense sounds. Still, he was bored to the core at the moment and even talking about someone behind their back wasn't very intriguing anymore.

Instead he had dug out the recordings of past Games. The strategies and people didn't interest him, just the carnage. Blood was soothing to him, in a way, and eased his restlessness to watch as the ground around a crushed skull turned crimson. He smiled as axes chunked into heads and swords bit into flesh. Soon, in a matter of days, he would be shedding blood like they were. Right now, though, he was confined to this damn steel box as it hurtled towards the doom of twenty-three people. Of course, he didn't really care about that. Blood was to be spilled, and he was to spill it. That was why he was here, that was his goal. If he had ever wanted anything, really wanted with more than simple impulse, he wanted to have the world fear him. Perhaps fixing his cousin's mistake of weakness might also go along with his plans, if so he would have no complaints. Krearns are meant to be feared, and he was going to prove that.

I can almost feel the weight of a body, freshly killed, leaning against me. This arena would not witness the first time I have killed, and my goal is that it will not see the last either. Watching others come to victory - often with tears or remorse - fills me with contempt. Conscience is a burden I am glad to have been born without. There have been others I have seen that had something alluring to them, perhaps their eagerness to kill and cause pain. Even so, they have all died. I do not plan to share their sorry fate.

The escort had since abandoned all attempts to speak with him. He hadn't seen much of Leon Krigel, though watching through his Games told him that District four's only victor hadn't been the most interesting of the available tributes. Dan Johnwayne, however, had certainly been an interesting character. Absently he flicked his tongue across his lips, thinking of the tall District two. None of the victors had that flare, though Kirito Miristioma's moments of bloody anger had piqued his interest now and again. Still, for the deadliest of killers in their Games - or perhaps a better word would be luckiest - they were all so tame.

He thought it was about time to liven up the party.

[ali]

Daria Staite {district four tribute}

We've opened our eyes and its changing the view Oh, what are we gonna do? We've opened the door, now its all coming through

I am insignificant Daria kept on telling herself this as she sat on the train, the vibrations of the train gliding along the rail tracks rattling through her like waves crashing against ragged rocks along a distant shore, heading towards the Capitol. From all accounts, it seemed as if her constant reassurace of her unimportance were all so true. No one had come to her in the Justice Building, it was not expected. The looks she had recieved from those who were family by blood were expected. She had fail, she was insignifcant to the world. Yet here she was. The train jolted, turning a corner sharply, Daria flinched at the sudden movement as it suddenly pulled her back into the water of realit; drowning her in emotion as fear continued to clasp at her throat. Her stomach tied itself in knots as the reality of her name being called in the reaping finally hit her. The girl inhaled sharply as fear began to tie its strings around her limbs, turning her into its puppet, its slave, its toy. Daria could feel herself losing control to her emotions as her hurricane raged on around her inside her mind. Daria knew this was a death sentance. She had watched the games for as long as she could remember, not that she had any choice in the matter, and it often did not end well for most. Even the strongest and the bravest would fall victim to death itself, their lives were often ripped from them suddenly,  without warning and though this should have given Daria hope, she did not feel it. She was small, she was weak, she had no prior training and her lack of hearing put her at a disadvantage; she was an easy kill. I don't know if I can bring myself to kill That was the most important factor. She looked down at her hands, which quivered softly in her lap. Daria tried to imagine her hands delievering a killing blow to someone else, crushing someones skull like the girl from District Two did a few games ago or firing a bow into someones chest. Daria did not believe that she could do it. She did not believe she could deliver such a blow to cause the enternal tide of someone to cease forever. but I have too Daria sighed softly, turning her head to look around the carriage. The escort was nowhere to be seen as was Leon. The girl felt sorry for him, last year he had to be a mentor to his brother and he had to watch him slip away between his fingers like sand did when you grasped a handful. As for her District partner, he seemed... Daria was unsure of what he seemed. He had an air about him. Most people she met had a sense to them, like an aura almost, which varied from person to person; almost like a personality. Someith was no different, and his air about him was unusal. It made her slightly on edge. She could feel the silence between her and Someith, it was like electricity, hovering in the air causing her hair on her neck to stand on its end. The train rattled again. Daria carefully grabbed her blackboard- which hung around her neck on a piece of string- and began to write on its face with the small peice of chalk tied to it. This was her way of talking to those who could not understand sign langauge. She hoped she would be allowed to keep it in the arena; she would be lost without it. With a quick dab with her chalk, Daria finished her sentance and turned the small board to the boy who sat near her. Where do you think Leon is? It's too quiet... Daria knew the sentance was ironic, considering her disability, since she couldn't hear the lack of sound but she could feel it.