it was a joke, mark...i was joking... [nowles/oz]

[doodle :)]

oz

"No turkey? You fucking idiot, Jeremy! You total fucking idiot! THAT WAS YOUR JOB, YOU FUCKING MORON! YOU CRETIN! YOU'RE A FUCKHEAD! THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE! A FUCKING SHIT-HEAD!

Every single fucking day, it was the same thing.

Wake up. Panic. Actually go to breakfast this time. Panic. Notice how hot Nowles is. Notice that she's not talking to you. Why? Cause she's a bitch. Fuck her (but metaphorically though). Go to the training center. Panic. Fall down a lot. Try not to cry. Panic. Wonder if you have a heart condition because your heart will not stop pounding. Wonder how the other tributes are planning to kill you, because they definitely are, you're probably gonna be out before the Bloodbath cause you're such a useless little shit, a fucking shit-stain on someone's balls, that's what you are to them and home and the Gamemakers. Go to lunch. Panic. Try not to feel like you're back in first semester of sixth grade as you watch the fucking Kool Kidz (TM) hook up with their Kool Alliance (TM) and make jokes about how Kool they are (TM). Fuck them. Panic because you don't have an alliance. Panic. Go back to training. Fall down. Panic. Go up to the District Nine suite. Panic. Eat dinner. Panic. Nowles still won't talk to you. Panic. Bitch.

Was this the rest of his fucking life.

Shit. It was. You don't have long, man. Few more days, and then...

How long do you think you're going to make it.

"You're the kind of person who gives up."

Shut up, Priscilla. Bitch. Maybe you could have actually wanted to do something with your life if it weren't for people like her. Or Snuff.

"They'll crush you, man!"

Really had to rub it in, didn't he. Some friend.

Not like you hadn't saved his worthless ass or anything. A little gratitude, maybe? A little "Wow thanks man you're the real G hope you don't die hahahahahahah."

Would that have been so hard to ask.

If people actually gave a shit about you, maybe you could've been a contender. But you're not. You're nothing. Just like everyone else who was ever born.

Somewhere on your way to dinner, you just kind of lay on the floor of the hallway to yours and Nowles' room. Spread-eagle, all stretched, completely taking up the path. Because you're imploding. Your heart's going so fast it's gone numb, and if you move another inch you might die.

You don't react when you hear someone trot up to you. The ceiling tiles are just that interesting.

Her face looms over you. Kind of a tingle there...but not that much because she kind of sucks to be honest.

"I'm not moving," you grunt. Prepared to catch her by the ankles if she thinks she can step over you, because if he's not moving, then she's not either, because fuck her...metaphorically.

elegant

[tick 12a / calla]

N O W L E S

► ► ►

I've been avoiding Oswald since we got off of the train. And you would too, alright? There's something seriously wrong with that kid.

It's easy to ignore him most of the time though. The target range is good enough to keep me busy, messing with Lottie and Raf is funny enough to keep me entertained. I suffer through Avriel's half-assed lectures and roll my eyes at the plants station and then go on my merry way.

The interviews are coming up soon and Pulchra's been sticking me with pins for the past forty-five minute. It was taking up valuable training time, I told her, and then she flicked me with the tape measure. There was a flurry of about fifty different types of fabric - sequins and leather and fur and gauze. I think she's gonna try and put a hat on me when I go up on stage.

Yeah, I don't think so.

Fatima said to meet her at the mess hall tonight, she's got some sort of plan or something, I dunno. She's smart and that's all that matters. I wonder what Great-Gruncle Babe would be thinking about me working with a modern day Al-Amin.

I bet he'd think it's pretty baller.

So I'm on my way there, trying to think up a good way to impress Fatima because she seems like the kinda person that everyone would want to impress. And speak of the devil. Oswald's begging for a foot up his ass, I swear. Kid's not even gonna make it off the platform once we get in the arena.

I'm hungry and tired and the idiot's just lying there, taking up the whole hallway.

"Outta my way, twerp." I move like I'm about to step on him. "Or I'll get Avriel."

Because we both know I'm the favourite. Duh.

[doodle :)]

oz

"No turkey? You fucking idiot, Jeremy! You total fucking idiot! THAT WAS YOUR JOB, YOU FUCKING MORON! YOU CRETIN! YOU'RE A FUCKHEAD! THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE! A FUCKING SHIT-HEAD!

She moves as though to kick you -- you cringe a little, pressing yourself against the floor, because you know she's the kind that would totally smash her shoe into your face if she had the chance. Girl's kinda....kinda...special...First thing she ever said to you: "I've shot the balls off of people bigger than you." And you're not still sure how you feel about that.

But after the initial panic, you kinda switch gears, because at the end of the day, you have to remember that this chick's just sugar-free Kevina. Prissy little weird-ass. Who's apparently super-rich or something and shoots guns for fun, so technically not Kevina, but also she's BASICALLY LITERALLY Kevina, so just ignore that part. And what do we do with Kevinas? Piss 'em off. No matter the pain. That's what we do with Kevinas.

And also, there's just something about the idea of getting stepped on by Nowles Adroxis that just intrigues you for some reason...you just have to wonder..and it kind of scares you that you're wondering about it, because why the fuck would you, this is weird man, STOP IT...but you HAVE to wonder....Would it hurt.................?

"How 're you gonna get Av if you can't go anywhere? Didn't think that through, did yah?" you taunt, snickering like the little gremlin you truly are. Then you add, as though to brush her off: "Not like you have any place to go, anyway. If you go to the training center, you might chip a nail."

elegant