Ruin My Life [Nylon/Arthur]

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

a r t h u r .

"You set fire to my world, couldn't handle the heat
Now I'm sleeping alone and I'm starting to freeze
Baby, come bring me hell
Let it rain over me"

What a waste of time.

Coiling the rope over and over to tie into knots, the best use that Arthur could find for it was to likely build a noose for himself. He figured it’d come somewhere between day one and whenever he got himself hunted down by one of the other kids in the games. He’d rather not go out like a little bitch, and it felt more poetic to have gone and hanged himself instead. Losing was the new winning, especially when it meant a quick end instead of a lifetime of emotional scars.

Arthur stayed in his feelings for the next couple of minutes, half-hearted attempting to make knots that have tied his wrists together. Not that he would get close enough to tie any of these kids up. He planned on keeping as far a distance from everyone as possibly until the gamemakers forced some sort of calamity on him. Oh what happened to Arthur? Well they decided to open up a ravine and just bury him.

“Stupid fucking piece of garbage bullshit.” Arthur had learned back in three that the more expletives he tossed into a sentence, the less seriously he had to take his failures. His brother Stanley had been the king of twenty-six word curses. It was a shame the capitol couldn’t recognize the poet laureate that had been Stanley Rollei, but then, Arthur figured the work of most great men wasn’t recognized until well after their deaths.

As he sat back across the blue polyurethane mat, Arthur dug his camera out of his pocket. He’d taken enough photos to fill up a roll – he was old school, eschewing the quality of digital for something he could do on his own – only to discover if he asked the avoxes in his apartment, he could get a new canister of film any time of day.

He turned to focus on the tributes warming up. Arthur could tell a lot about each of them already from what he’d snuck, from the lines in their foreheads down to the whites of their eyes.

“Oh yeah, that’s it,” He crouched forward, clicking the shutter, “Come on, take a step into the light.”

He stretched out on his stomach as he focused on the girl from one.

“Give us a smile, huh?”

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[charade]

I think the best part about training is being able to show off. It’s different when everyone in the room is a fellow career; but here? Here, most of the kids are coal miners that can’t walk in heels and volunteers from districts that are about to find out what a mistake they’ve made.

I’ve just finished warming up, getting ready to run through one of the combat techniques that’s been ingrained in me. I don’t need to rely on weapons in the arena if I can get my hands around someone’s neck and twist. Broken necks are so much less messy and I really hope I can manage to get at least one into my highlight reel.

If I choke someone with a whip—look, I’m aiming to be bigger than Ridley Le Roux here. Move over Grim Reaper, Nylon’s got a stranglehold on the Capitol. Can you feel the pulse? Weakening as I coil a thread around it.

And I hear a click.

It’s a familiar sound, a camera. Someone in here is taking pictures. A quick scan of the room reveals the weirdo from three—the surprisingly builtweirdo from three, is the culprit, and—I think he’s taking a picture of moi? I mean, he’s definitely facing my direction.

Ugh, was he watching me stretch? I mean, I can’t blame him, but have some class.

So I make the dumbest face I can think of and then arch an eyebrow as I saunter over to him.

“You can pay for a signed photo like everyone else.” I say with a hint of disapproval, curling my lip and making a tsking noise. I yank the camera out of his hands and turn it over to look at it while keeping one hand on my hip. And then I glance around at the station he’s at.

Something survival related. Ropes. Maybe he was trying to build a trap? It’s terrible, looks like a noose more than anything else. I could build a better snare in my sleep. My gaze leaves the rope and returns to the boy. I don’t know much about him other than his name and district.

Three is a garbo place for being an upper district. Like the redheaded stepchild the Capitol keeps in the attic of the manor and beats if they make too much noise. I mean the last time they had a victor was the year I was born, so that should tell you something.

“Whatcha doing over here anyway? Trying to catch something, Artie?” He’s caught my eye at least, because he’s standing out and not being boring—usually a good sign.

I wonder if he has a type?

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

a r t h u r .

"You set fire to my world, couldn't handle the heat
Now I'm sleeping alone and I'm starting to freeze
Baby, come bring me hell
Let it rain over me"

He clicked away a snap or two, even the way her face bunched up when she’d tried to mess up his frame. But that felt all the better, to catch the district one female in her element. From what he’d gathered, she didn’t suffer fools, but there’d been a playfulness about her. Enough that she’d come right up to him and snatched the camera out of his hands.

Bitch!

He’d balled his fists together, and if he didn’t think she could likely kick his ass three ways to Sunday, he’d have popped her right in the mouth for taking his camera. It’d become an extension of himself and the last piece of home, aside from his district partner (but then, he preferred the camera). He took a breath in through his nose and held it as he listened to Nylon.

What a stupid name. She wasn’t even from district eight. Why did everyone have to name their kids after inanimate objects made in factories? Felt exactly like the sort of post-capitalist hellhole that capitol had wanted to create. He half expected one year they would have a victor named Umbrella Tennisracquet at this rate.

“First, in case you didn’t know, three’s poor as fuck,” Arthur shot back with a grin. Like he’d ever pay for a photo of her, unless it was to put on her casket after he won this whole thing.

“And I was trying to figure out the best way to tie up some traps but the farthest I got was a bunch of weird looking knots.” He motioned to the rope at his feet, and then picked up the sad little noose. “Then I got to feeling particularly morbid and decided to make this.”

He put the thing on over his neck and smiled wide.

“Thought maybe I’d save it for later though in case I feel like jumping off my balcony before this whole thing starts. Feel like I might make more headlines that way than dying in the bloodbath.”

He gave a shrug and made a slow reach for his camera.

elegant

[charade]

Aw shucks, I think the baby is sad I took his candy.

I promise I’m sweeter. Well, at least my kisses are. I don’t apply vanilla flavored lip gloss every day for nothing; I intend to use it. I can see that he’s made fists and I glance at them curiously. If it’s a fight he wants, I can oblige. I’ll start by breaking his jaw with this camera of his. Arthur. Such an old name. Arthurs wear monocles and have grey mustaches that curl. He’s got too much of a rockin’ bod and pouty lips to be named Arthur.

I’m thinking Brad. Mike maybe. He mentions that he’s poor and like—that’s like the third guy that’s done this. ‘you’re more beautiful than any of the trashbags in eleven’ ‘I get my ass beat by girls on the regular’

Why are boys so obsessed with stating the obvious?

He’s talking about how bad he is at making knots and—

Huh. Alright, note to self, he has a deathwish. He reached for the camera and I let him take it. Because, wow, the noose is way more interesting than the camera.

I inspect it curiously, and I admit, I’m not faking that.

Of course, I’m not admitting that to him. I shrug.

“I’m pretty sure the same force field that’s around the arena is around the building. Even if you did jump they have nets to catch people.”

It’d be such a waste though. Why wouldn’t want to at least die on camera if he wants to be remembered? I can think of plenty of tributes from district three. Like—

Like uhm—

Wow, these garbage knots are so bad. I push past him and pick one up, turning it over in my hands. I’ve always been fascinated by this sort of thing. For reasons.

“These are too big. You’re supposed to bend the wire around one side of your finger to make the loop.”

He didn’t roll up the backend either.

So I fix it. Cause I’m nice like that.

Brains, beauty and brawn, gawd I never know which one to show off first. Was he mad? Sure, but I can diffuse situations every now and then. I keep people on their toes, or maybe it just means I’m a little unstable.

I like the first one better.

“There. Now you can catch a rabbit by the neck or tie someone’s wrists together.”

I give him a mischievous wink.

“Me, I prefer handcuffs…”

I tug on the end of the noose around his neck with a playful smile.

“Don’t be such a grump, there’s plenty of time to have fun before everyone dies.”

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

a r t h u r .

"You set fire to my world, couldn't handle the heat
Now I'm sleeping alone and I'm starting to freeze
Baby, come bring me hell
Let it rain over me"

A forcefield. Now why hadn’t he thought of that? Maybe because he figured that if the capitol were anything like the districts, people got a bit too casual with how they did things to think there’d ever be an accident. How many years had the games gone off without a hitch, starting with twenty-four and ending with one? Certainly, the span of his lifetime and then some. He felt stupid for bringing it up at all.

Her attention shifted to his handiwork, and she offered a piece of advice. Arthur wasn’t sure what to make of it other than she wasn’t as one-dimensional as he thought she’d be. Most careers on screen seemed to want to paint themselves as above helping anyone else – or rather, television magic had everyone thinking that way. There had always been redemptions, of course, though they had to survive long enough to earn them.

He wondered what his story arc would be if he survived long enough to have one.

Would he be the bumbling boy from three where they played a trombone every time he came on screen? Or could he actually pose a threat to others in the arena? Arthur’d already decided he wanted to find a place to hole up for a while until the numbers thinned, but he wasn’t above shanking someone that got in his way. Morality wasn’t warm and fuzzy as all the would-be heroes wanted them to believe.

She gave the camera back, and Arthur couldn’t help but smile.

“Well gee, thanks,” He started before letting out a little oop when she tugged at the noose. Huh. Funny how all the blood rushing from his head had a way of smoothing out the anger. “Careful now. Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

He leaned forward and arched an eyebrow.

“I like to have a lot of fun. It’s what I do,” Arthur said with his voice soft, “Nobody more fun than me. At least not in here. Not so sure about you, though.” He grinned.

“What’s your idea of fun?”

elegant

[charade]

What’s fun?

Drinks with tiny umbrellas. Buying lip gloss. Boys that tell me I’m pretty. Fantasizing about which kills will make my highlight reel.

The usual.

I yank on the noose again and take a step backwards, gently pulling him towards the rope station.

I don’t check to see if he follows.

They always do.

Now, this one, this one I think requires something different. He’s not like Abel. He’s got anger. He’s cute. Not hiding his interest. Well, Abel didn’t either, but something tells me Arthur here has more experience. You know, I’m glad I didn’t break his camera yet. That’s reserved for when I need to make a point. For now, I can just think about fun, and I mean, I saw his abs the other day.

That’s fun too.

So I clear some of the mess away and hop up on the table to face him, crossing my legs and leaning back with my hands keeping me steady.

“Nobody more fun than you huh? Sounds like a challenge.” I grab some of the rope and make a crude lasso, whirling it over head and dropping it over his shoulders before pulling him in. “I dunno if I should let you keep those photos of me for free though.” I pull the lasso tight and put a leg out, planting my foot in the middle of his chest to that the momentum doesn’t take me off the other side of the table.

“What’s my idea of fun? Winning. Staying on top of things. Making people pay for things."

I bite the tip of my index finger while looking at him curiously.

“Commitment free fun.”

Honestly, I don’t know why my sisters have such a hard time finding hookups. Well, actually I don’t. Satin’s crazy, Silk’s a bitch and Velvet’s crazy and a bitch.I guess if you asked the right people, they’d say I’m crazy too, but I’m fun crazy, not stab you in face crazy.

I lull people into a false sense of security before doing that.

“I saw you at spin the bottle, Artie, a shame you didn’t land on me.”

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

a r t h u r .

"You set fire to my world, couldn't handle the heat
Now I'm sleeping alone and I'm starting to freeze
Baby, come bring me hell
Let it rain over me"

Arthur wasn’t sure if he’d ever met someone so terrifyingly arousing.

He knew young women like Nylon back in three. Not necessarily trained killers, but women who didn’t give a shit about what he or anyone else had to say. Their hard edges had calcified and so they could not be worn down by society’s expectations; they were not yielding to the push or pull but instead running against its grain. He admired that sort of devil-may-care attitude, if only because he’d adapted it for himself. Spun up a whole personality around the concept that he didn’t need to care much about anything, so long as it didn’t hurt him.

And even if it did, he’d find a reason to explain why that’d been the case. Like his brother’s disappearance. They took him away because the capitol were assholes, and that they sought out people they could easily crush and destroy. Arthur had been caught in the crossfire, left alone only to be taken up by the reaping bowl.

But he figured that was not so much Nylon, she seemed more like someone who’d been convinced a fight to the death yielded character. And that she was one that never lost, no matter how tough an opponent she’d faced.

When she tugged on the noose and pulled him toward he ropes, Arthur kept grinning.

This – this strange set of bedfellows deserved to find one another in the din of this mess.

When she’d tossed the rope, he’d already started to cross his legs because sweatpants left absolutely nothing to the imagination. She rattled off wanting to win, make people pay, all the sort of things he could’ve expected from a girl like Nylon. Not that he had an issue – she’d wanted what she wanted, but he couldn’t relate. Sometimes winning wasn’t as much fun as fucking shit up. But maybe she’d learn that lesson the hard way.

“Ooooh yeah, now that’s what I like,” Arthur laughed, “Choke me, babe.”

Commitment free fun.

Somehow, he didn’t believe a word, since every move this chick made was calculated to the nth degree. She probably chose her shade of lipgloss based on how reflective it was so as not to give her position away.

And yet – if he could get his dick wet because some career wanted to tie him up and spank him, he wasn’t about to say no. He wasn’t crazy. Just a horny teenage boy. But not crazy.

“Yeah, sorry you had to kiss four. Dead fish that one,” Arthur said, fidgeting in his restraints, “But you know there’s time to make up for it and then some. Say the word and you can throw me over your shoulder and we’ll find a spot to plug in.” He raised his eyebrows. Even though plugging in was a three’s expression, he figured Nylon would understand the literalism. 

elegant