| .. Plαu§iblε .. |

[phunke]

{[Text EEE87D
{[Speech B26363

M^{ORNINGS HAD NEVER been Evelyn Mardonne's favorite part of the day.}
_o.o^.o.Actually, for Evvie, "morning" was usually defined as "like, it's super bright outside or whatever, and mom's all, hey honey we already ate lunch, and I'm all, ugh, what-ever mom".
But the day before her wedding, that definition had to change.
It was like, totally awful; the fifteen-year-old girl actually had to wake up sooooo early at nine o'clock in the morning. Truly, hearts all over Panem must have bled as Evvie was forced to wake up while the sun was still in the east and prepare herself for possibly the only thing other than, like, major sales at the mall which could roll her out of bed that early: her own wedding.
After approximately ten minutes spent applying enough eyeliner and mascara to make herself look at least three years older than her actual age - a paltry 15 years - Evvie rubbed on some chapstick (lip gloss, she'd learned, was not appreciated by most guys because of its stickiness) and set about tousling her hair enough that it wouldn't look styled. Of course, this process involved factoring in the wind speed that day, as well as how much she'd have to flirt with Lucan (hair flips, duh!) to distract him from the many girls they'd invited. Or he'd invited. Lucan, Evelyn had noticed (with her like, totally awesome detecting stuff skills), liked girls. A lot. But many guys liked girls a lot, so Ev didn't really find a problem with it. He was still cool and totally hot.

No short while later - navigation was not among Miss Mardonne's many talents - she'd arrived in front of a shiny big boat with letters on it. "Pluh...plaaay...plows..."
Evvie gave up attempting to read the word on the boat because it probably wasn't even a real word anyway, just some made-up thing to look, like, fancy.
With that metaphorical bridge crossed, Evelyn proceeded to board the boat, which was like, weirdly empty.
Unknowingly, Evelyn Mardonne had gone to her cruise-wedding a day before the actual wedding. This revelation failed to sink into her; the teenager simply shrugged her bare shoulders and allowed herself to be distracted by the wonderful feel of wind flinging the skirt of her sundress all around her thighs. Glancing around in a self-assured sort of way so that if anyone saw her she'd look like soooo cute, Evvie ran a hand through her hair. As predicted, it was perfectly untidy.
The wedding couldn't come soon enough.

ooc; done.[/size]

[gxk]

Nyx leaned over the railing of ship letting the salty spray of the sea whip past her. She was going to be a guest at a wedding... She still wasn't quite sure about how she felt about weddings. It hadn't been that long a time since her own, and that hadn't ended well at all. Maybe Lucan and Evelyn would have better luck than she and her husband had. Her husband had ended up dead, a twenty-two year old widow, who had ever heard of such a thing. She questioned why she was even coming to this celebration of love. Maybe it was because she needed to prove to herself that two people could live happily together in love. Maybe it was because she needed to escape from home.


When she'd received the invitation Nyx wasn't sure if she'd go. Weddings made her remember everything that went wrong in her relationship. Elian... He was a good man, for the most part. And then that all went wrong. That night, he died. The blood, it was everywhere. Nyx cringed at the memory. Now was a time to be happy for a new couple. This was Lucan and Evelyn, not her and Elian. Glancing down she sighed at the sight of her sapphire engagement ring. Her wedding ring was long gone, but she still hadn't had the heart to rid herself of the second ring that graced her finger. This island, it would certainly be a beautiful place for a wedding. A beautiful place for a beautiful couple. The bitter thought made itself known in her mind. Nothing good ever lasted, they would meet their end too, with any luck it would be on better terms than her fair well with her lover.


The voices of the other guests floated past the pale girl's ears. Stormy eyes scanned the ocean. A small smile found its way onto her face. Sharks. The island they were going to was surrounded by sharks. It was their home first if you needed to justify their daunting presence. Wonder who will try to swim with them first. Again with the violence. Nyx shook her head. Being a career had left her with some tainted ideas to say the least. Some of the guests seemed excited, congratulating couple, others not so much. Like the girl from Seven for example. Poor thing and her land legs. It was amazing she had come all the way from Seven just for a wedding. She must be close to the bride or groom, or just desperate for a good time. Even Ol' Sawyer was here.


Really she should say something to couple, congratulate them at least. Thank them for inviting her. Who would invite her anyway? Nyx Dymock was not someone most people would want at their ceremony of love. But she had been raised in an upper class family. She knew how to behave herself and be polite. Her parents had made sure that despite being a career, Nyx had manners. Slowly she removed herself from her thinking place, heading into the throng of people. A smile and/or a wave was given to those she passed. No need to get them down because her mood was bittersweet. The gulls flew over head, they were opportunists. They knew how to make the most of everything. Gulls weren't nearly as dumb as people thought them to be. Afterall it was them who were capable of stealing food from we oh so powerful humans. Being human was overrated really. But that was something to ponder another time.


Nyx caught sight of the groom, of course he had people all around him, but she felt he owed it to her host to recognize him and his good fortune. Like a phantom Nyx moved through the crowd. Really there were an awful lot of people for such a small vessel, but surely it saved some money. More to spend on the actual ceremony. Reaching out she put a hand on Lucan's shoulder to make him aware of her presence.


"Congratulations. And thank you for the invitation. You and Evelyn have my best wishes. What a fortunate bride you must have. I am excited to meet her."


She finished with a sweet smile. Lucan seemed nice enough. But the idea of being trapped on an island with a bunch of wedding goers still made her uneasy. Crazy kids surely didn't understand everything it took to make a successful marriage. It was more than sex and rings, contrary to popular belief.

[EVELANCHE WUHH?]

paisley armanda bridgenne
ALL THIS TIME I'VE BEEN WASTING -----------------------------

Paisley's birthday came the day before the invitation. There wasn't a party and she had not asked for any gifts. The same thing had happened last year, when Paisley had turned twelve. But this year, the mark of her thirteenth year of survival, came with no balloons either. Balloons were necessary for most celebrations or at least the small Bridgenne family thought as much. Even if nothing else could be afforded, one should always get balloons. The daughter struggled to care, but she didn't understand what was so fantastic about the colorful latex. When Paisley inquired, her parents raised their eyebrows curiously and wrinkled their noses at once, a difficult facial expression that is usually resorted to only in the most desperate of confusions.

"Why would you want balloons?" her mother asked. The small, harmless question sent Paisley into boiling rage. If asked why, she probably wouldn't have an honest answer in her conscience. It was her subconscience that controlled most of her. The little things that bothered her, just simply irritated her to infinity and beyond, dominated her life and she didn't know how to get free from it. The little inescapable cycle that showed most through her actions, was her love for organization, and schedule. It was perhaps something a little far gone from perfectionism. Perhaps love for consistency was the word, but it tormented her.

Paisley wasn't often angered. She was emotional, sure, but she preferred long sobs and endless laughs to a red face. This was perhaps due to the fact that she didn't usually expect things from people. She rid her mind of 'they should haves' and 'why didn't theys' to leave room to expect things from herself. And this usually ended in expecting herself to fix things, to make them right her own ways. That was how it had always been with her family. They were either too protective or they did nothing for her, and thus her ideas of what they should do had slackened, and Pais became a harder worker to get things closer to how she liked them.

But consistency. That was a whole different issue. She grimaced at first, when her mother spoke. They loved balloons. That was how it had always been. The one thing about noteworthy occasions that never varied. She then stiffened, then marched over to the table and grabbed a third of the cake. There was not party, anyways. Who else was there to eat any portion of it, especially not as massive as Paisley's. She let her mouth savor the dry, bitter cake. It was clearly old, probably something from the bakery that was made a week in advance, perhaps more.

That night she went to bed with a full stomach, but she didn't feel it. There was a hollow spot where she thought her belly might be. But it was nonexistant like her midsection perhaps didn't exist at all. Then, it began to tear away at her, and made her tingle from her toes to her temples. Right before her mind flickered into an excruciatingly light sleep, she began to sob. Honestly, the whys had vanished from her mind. She disreguarded the fat that her parents had obviously forgotten that Pais needed any amount of care, despite how collected and unneedy that she seemed. She just let herself slip into a long-awaited, much-needed cry.

In the middle of the night, she awoke with a shadowy shape on her pillow. It was close to dawn, really, but you couldn't have been able to tell with the miniscule light that filtered into her room. Her fingers reached for it - the dark package, very thin yet distinctly quadrilateral. Before her fingers touched what seemed like a gift, she fell back asleep.

The next morning, she realized she had fallen asleep with her hand stretched outwards. This was something rather uncomfortable, Paisley noticed, as she got up and tried to stretch. Her elbow and shoulder were rather stiff, and she grimaced as she threw off her bedsheets. She remembered the odd little thing on her pillow and began to bite at her lip. Thrown off by the decision of whether to open it or not, Paisley remained sitting upwards on her mattress contemplating.

The packaging tore easily in her hands. Pais figured this out as soon as she gripped the package and a corner of the wrapping ripped, leaving another layer. It was paper. She realized that instantly. Someone had painted lines on it, perhaps with the juice of some fruit. She didn't quite know how it was fastened, but Pais tried to rip it in neat squares, as she thought it pretty. The gift beneath was breathtaking. At first, Pais thought it just an oversized trinket, didn't think about what couldn've been inside. It was golden, the first thing she realized. It glinted with the little light filtering through the grey, musty glass of a window.

It glimmered. it shined. The District Four girl could have maybe spent hours tipping the present back and forth, watching dim sunlight stream into the material - it felt as thought it could have been some sort of fabric, but Pais was never sure about those things - and set harmless fires on it's glitter. It took her several moments to realize what lay inside what she thought was perhaps a basic item. There were blank, tinted-yellow sheets inside. At first, Pais frowned at it's age, confused as to whether she should think of it as an antique or a thoughtless object stuffed in someone's attic to be regisfted somewhere. But then she realized the pages were also filled with specks of glitter and Pais was breathless.

Pais didn't like writing that much. She wasn't good at that. If it was meant to be a sketchbook, she didn't much like drawing either. the giftgiver had been considerably generous, but perhaps not very thoughtful when thinking intently upon the receiver. And it didn't come wtih a pen. What a shame. Pais needed to stop this. It wasn't at all like her to set expectations, think of what someone shouldn't have done. She decided that she should maybe start writing. Maybe something would happen and she might start to like it, or, if that didn't completely work out, not be as bored by it.

But that was when Pais began to flip through the pages. One by one. She was truly looking at them, not because each one was different than the other. Each one seemed identical, a literal clone of the one before. The specks were positioned, not at regular intervals, but in the same spots as the pages previous. It was when she got to page fifty that she stopped and stared at the notebook for a an excruciatingly long period of time.

Dearest Paisley Armanda,
I am truly sorry that we forgot.
If you cannot find us, I'm sorry.
We will be back before the wedding.
Love,
Mother & Father.

Paisley let out a long moan, focusing on the first line of words. The noise resounding from the back of her throat increased in volume, became shriller, with the second line. What was she supposed to do? Sit here and starve? Paisley most certainly wouldn't do that. She could make decent enough food. But she wanted to take pity on herself, just this once, so she put all of her survival talents, such as making cheese sandwiches, to the back of her mind.

But the last line made her skin crawl. Wedding? What wedding? Paisley hugged her knees to her chest, truly feeling sorry for herself. The confusion was too much. The sense of being completely deserted overwhelmed her. She threw the notebook across the room, no longer grateful for what had previously been an exceptionally elegant present. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting a tear drip through her soft, bare lids. But she qucikly flitted them open, looking intensely at the object that had glided across the floor.

Sticking from the pages was the corner of a small white envelope. Curiously, Pais walked over and tugged it from the very edge of the flawless snow-colored flavor. Expected it to be as cold as ice with it's purity, the girl found it warm, and she felt very invited. And opening the flap with a perfect tear, she found that was exactly what she was. Invited

----

The morning of their plan to board the cruise ship that would take them to the Island Piscatus was dreadful. Her parents returned around six, just while Paisley was leaving with her suitcase in hand. She was leaving so early because she had planned to stop by the coffee shop on the way to wherever she was going. She had put the fact of her parents return far out of mind, faring well on homemade sandwiches and the occasional meal outside her house, using the spare change around her house.

They tried to explain things. Actually, they didn't. They said sorry more times than Paisley could count. They told her they needed a break. They told her everything she needed to know. But perhaps not as much as she wanted. They didn't say one thing about where they had been, which was particularly odd, considering each was covered in bandages and a layer of grime. Paisley didn't ask. No one answered her questions right anyways.

Her moher had decided to stay home for the wedding. No one had much idea why, but she admitted to feeling slightly queasy. Pais waved it off, and let her mother kiss her goodbye. Throughout the entire distraught reunion, Paisley didn't speak, and even though it wasn't unusual for her to go quiet - she didn't often have much to say - she was in an emotional reverie, and had decided to give her parents the stern silent treatment.

---

Paisley looked at the boarders around her as they began to flood over the ship. She was carrying one suitcase with three tops and three shorts, and one pair of old sneakers. Sandals were on her feet, along with a blouse on her torsoe, mini shorts around her legs, and a cap on her head. But something else was causing people to give her odd looks. There was a glimmering notepad sealed tightly to her chest by a protective arm. Something told the passengers that she probably wouldn't let go.

After stepping on the deck of the ship, Paisley intently observed where she would be staying. The Plausible was a neat ship. It was lovely, really. The wooden deck mirrored the warmth from the sun. Everything seemed decently clean. Had Paisley looked over the rail, she would've seen light, frothy waves rolling over the pure sides of the ship and sloshing over the words ' THE PLAUSIBLE '

Paisley, usually skilled in the art of people watching, merely scanned over the faces she saw on the ship. She didn't want to seem too creepy. She was obviously the youngest on the ship, only thirteen, and that came with quite a btit of responsibility. Paisley usually acted with quite a bit more maturity than her years suggested. However, Paisley predicted that she would probably still be babied.

Paisley's eyes stopped on the groom for a moment, and his fiancee as well. They were so lucky, being allowed like this to have this beautiful island and ship. She smiled at them, but realized they were probably too busy talking to other guests. She hadn't known them too well. She found it slightly odd that the invitation had been adressed to her rather than her parents. Well, her parents were kind of known as the local nutcases. Unfortunately, no one was going to allow the girl go on her own. It would be frowned upon. it would be a much different thing to allow her to cruise to an unknown island than to leave at her home. Of course, she wasn't planning on speaking to her father.

Paisley dropped her bags beside the railing near a dark skinned girl and another boy who seemed to be talking a little. She didn't look at them, or over out onto the water. She sat quietly on her suitcase and flipped oopen her book. She studied the first fifty, empty pages, and stopped on the fiftieth page, where her mother and father had written a note. She creased her lips and closed her eyes, willing sobs of anger to stay behind her burning hot face.

This was going to be a hard occasion to get through.

---

WORDS: 2097 - dies -
OUTFIT: thin white tank, short jean shorts, leather sandals.

[Spesh]

Mahi Fisher

Damn this ship is hot, I am loving it so much. The one thing that I always found odd about myself is that I get seasick while on a ship, it just seems weird to me. Actually, why I am going to a wedding of two people that I do not know seems weirder. Ehh, I really don't care, the food is pretty god, and the ship is nice, and the island, looks great too. I bet this is going to be fun, and maybe I could get drunk too, YAY!

Am I the youngest one here, cause if I am that is kinda weird. Why do I always sound like an idiot inside my mind. Partying last night was a bad idea, I hate having to stand up now, it really is difficult. But I have to make my daddy proud, so I bear through all of this crap, because without him paying for everything, I would haven nothing!

[cameron]

His hand brushed through blonde hair, pushing stray strands smoothly away from his face. Shielding his eyes then from the shining sun, Lucan stepped forward and walked into the crowd of people that would be attending his wedding—which may or may not happen, depending on his feelings' frequent fluctuations. The Hale boy lived in the moment, but for the past few weeks things seemed to be feeling a bit differently for him. Beginning to contemplate decisions, he wasn't even quite sure of his own personality traits anymore. He had always been the one who never regretted anything, but now it seemed as if that might change—and at a horrible time to do so, too. But for now, he would have to try to remain calm. Didn't want to alert the guests of how confused he actually was, now, did he?

Towering over a large majority of the crowd, he had a grand view of all the people wandering around. Out of the corner of his pale eyes he noticed two people, one after the other, walking down below the deck of the Plausible. Focusing on them for a brief moment, Lucan wondered what exactly the two were doing at his wedding if they were planning on being so antisocial. Quickly dismissing the thought from his cluttered mind, he looked back in front of him and noticed a girl, seemingly from nowhere, strutting up to him.

A blonde haired female stood before him, her finger slowly making its way up her thigh. She spoke to him softly, in a provocative voice. "How's it goin', Mister?" Her finger reached the low-cut dress upon her body, and she began to lift it up. Lucan couldn't lie, though; it was rather sexy, and the girl definitely was not ugly. If his fiancee wasn't on board he might consider something entertaining with the girl.

As she said this, however, Lucan picked up a trace of alcohol on her breath. Realizing this most likely wasn't how the girl typically acted—though, he didn't mind—he placed his hand on her shoulder and told her,

"It's going good, thanks. How about you go take a seat over there and I'll meet you in a few?"

[/center]
Turning away from the girl, Lucan tried to place her face to a name, but nothing came up. She had seemed rather familiar, though. Maybe when she was sober they could talk and he could find out about her. Of course, being sober didn’t sound too fun then. It was a party, after all; so shouldn’t he be consuming alcohol, as well? Grinning, he began to step towards the table with the drinks, when someone called out his name.

"Thank you for inviting me. I'd love to meet the lucky lady. It'll be good to finally actually meet you." The voice spoke before he had a chance to register the face. He turned towards the masculine sound and looked directly at someone who seemed familiar to him as well. Mayson, was it? Lucan had passed by him on the way to work some, so they had spoken quite a few times. Never were their conversations very personal, though, but maybe that could change. He needed a guy that he could talk to sometimes. The only people he ever really talked to were Amadi, Qilena, and Ol’ Sawyer—but Lucan didn’t count him as a guy, just an old fart that amused him on occasion.

On closer inspection, the boy was actually very handsome and appealing to Lucan’s eye. As he opened his mouth to speak, something caught in his throat and he coughed a little. Glancing awkwardly at Mayson, he uncomfortable wiped his palms on his pants. For some reason or other, beads of sweat had built up on them. When he was sure his hands were no longer a waterfall, he reached out and shook Mayson’s hand.[/color] ”Of course, May. You can meet her whenever you’d like. She’s here somewhere.” And then with a wink, Lucan said, ”It’ll be good to meet you, too,”

As he turned, wanting to leave the boy in a state of longing and desire, he was flooded with greetings from several people. First came his best friend, Qilena Zwarck. She exclaimed all about the wedding, and he nodded. Opening his mouth to reply, he caught a timid wave from the corner of his eye. Glancing that way, he saw Amadi’s friend Gabby. He had never really met the girl, only heard a bit about her from his sister. Lifting his hand, he threw back an enthusiastic wave to the girl. Then was the weirdest greeting yet. He felt a cold hand upon his shoulder—surprising some one could reach that high to begin with—and he quickly swerved around to see whose frigid hand was placed on him. An older female, probably around his age, stood before him. She seemed pleasant enough, so he thanked her after her statement was made.

He had to choose one to talk to. Three ladies were all around him, all trying to speak with the groom. All bringing something different to the table, he noted. Lucan wasn’t a picky person, though, and so he simply nodded, smiling at the group, allowing whichever one wanted to speak to him the most to come forward.

At least Ev wasn’t watching to see him then. She’d accuse him of cheating—even though he technically was with his sister. Apparently all teenage girls with uneven hormonal patterns liked to assume their fiancés were liars. Maybe she was right.

[/color][/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/justify]

WORD COUNT: 909

[/font]
LISTENING TO: Unwinding Cable Car by Anberlin[/font]
COMMENTS: ATTENTION ALL MEMBERS OF THIS PLOT. WIP posts are no longer allowed![/font]
[/center]

[Rosetta]

Yucca swallowed, hard, as she studied the people around her. She might as well have been naked with what they were all wearing. Women, elegantly dressed, men, rigid and tall wearing suits. And Yucca Ephedra, in ripped jeans and a hoodie, clutching a kerchief that she should never have taken off. Her hair blew behind her in the wind, and Yucca hastened to flatten it, as to not draw attention to herself.

It wasn't like she didn't have nice clothes. Of course she did. Hand-me-downs, but nice clothes nonetheless. Her family consisted of fishermen and women, there was hardly time for nice clothes. But, if one did come by with some extra money...so, yes, she did own nice clothes. However, she hadn't realized the first impression concept of this, though. She'd thought, on the ship, hey, no big deal what I wear, right? It's going to be cold, and windy, might rain...best dress in casual clothes and save your nice stuff for later...

Now, standing amongst those obviously showing wealth, or at least trying, Yucca blushed, her colorless cheeks becoming rosy red. She fingered the leather strap of the backpack in her hand. She'd only packed clothes, and some colorful strings to make lanyards should....should she want to...or the need arise. The clothes she'd packed weren't the greatest. A nice blouse or two, a skirt, unripped jeans. And then there was her mother's dress...

She knew that Delaney Ephedra would kill her daughter if she'd found out she'd taken it. It was a lovely white thing, light as air, and billowing with long sleeves, and a pale blue sash. The skirt was layered and when Yucca had tried it on in her mother's bedroom, while she was out, she'd fallen in love with the way it seemed to float to her feet. Her bare feet, of course. Her nice sandals almost looked ratty next to the dress, and Yucca liked her bare feet better. She'd even mixed some dyes in her seashell and painted her nails. That left her hair...

You'll just have to manage, the voice in her head whispered,just don't let it bother you... Still Yucca blushed even more when glances followed her as she moved forth. She wasn't sure where she was going...but, she'd have to find someplace to go...A tall figure surrounded by girls obstructed her way...Lucan!

The groom was exceptionally handsome, with pale eyes and blonde hair. No wonder he was surrounded by ladies. Yucca bit her lip and smoothed her hair...might as well say hello...

Pushing her way, gently, through the crowd, Yucca forced a smile up at the groom.

"Hello, mister...um...Lucan..." Yucca flushed at her confusion, her eyes darting around, desperately for help. Her eyes caught something, and for a moment, she froze. A flash of silver...like someone's hair...Silver! Memories flooded back to her...under the dock...lanyards...books...talking...friends...none of it made sense, leaving Yucca stammering in front of Lucan, muttering inaudible words under her breath, trying to make sense of it all. Silver. Was. Her. Friend. And she was here?!

Yucca, don't lose it now!The voices of reason in her head pulled her from her puzzled trance, and she realized with horror what she was doing. Her face couldn't have gotten any redder than it already was, and Yucca felt tears pooling in her eyes. Well don't cry about it! Fix it!

"Oh, sorry!" She squeaked, hastily."I...uh, thought I saw someone I knew..."She looked around again, but saw no sight of Silver...maybe she was imagining it...Yucca took a deep breath to steady her trembling legs, and faked another smile."I'm Yucca Ephedra...well, you probably already know that...seeing as I was invited..."She winced. She certainly wasn't making a good impression of herself."Yeah, so, um...congratulations...?"[/center]

[skylarversion2]

As a gust of wind blew over the depths of the ocean blue, his carrot-colored hair blew backwards, revealing a white forehead that created a strange contrast when compared to the rest of his body. His bangs, though cleaned regularly, never were cut or styled in any fashion, so the line against his forehead allowed for minimal sunlight to darken skin. The Plausible rocked ever slightly, comforting the sea-boy's instincts. How wonderful it felt to be on the water, cool breezes blowing occasionally, with the presence of other's happily conversing around him. The constant buzz in his ears was a strange happening at first, but having been on the boat for some time now, his ears had grown accustomed to it. Just like they had everyday at work, with the clicks and yells of others yelling as they'd seem to caught the 'big one.' Although, the majority of the time was filled with confusion and illusion, that the thing latched on to the hook was more of a bush latched on to the floor of the sea, rather than a monster of a fish. Greenuck knew better than to think that he'd caught something as miraculous as a 20 pound fish, no matter how much arrogance shone through.

The dark skinned woman who'd he just spoken to, though seeming to give off an "I-don't-give-a-shit" attitude, only made things worse with her reply. Gadolinite skin was in his eyes as she spoke, with a seemingly obvious level of sarcasm in her voice. It very much resembled the fyke's that Greenuck would use back home, the tightening around the fish's skin so that it could not escape; the way her voice triggered his temperament to the point where he had no other option but to say what was on his mind. It wasn't like he would've done anything different, however. "The gulls, because, really, they can understand me. Or even the really understanding ocean. Exactly what do you want from me? Because you look just as occupied as everyone else." There was really only one thing for the lazy eyed boy to say, with the missing teeth and muscular body. Or at least, to himself, there was only one option for his next reply, even though someone with civility would possibly conjure up a "Was that necessary, your sarcasm? I've done nothing to you."

"Bitch," however, was all he could manage.

[shrimp]

THINKING/LIVING - aa5544
SPEAKING - ddbb99
FLASHBACK - 778855
LYRICS - cc9966

---

You feign excitement as you blabber on to the groom about how amazing the wedding is going to be - you helped plan some things after all (hey, you're sober at least part of the time, so your input is somewhat creditable). However, deep down you still wish that Lucan was marrying someone older (at the very least, shouldn't the girl be 19? A 15 year old girl getting married to a 21 year old is similar to a 15 year old marrying a 9 year old, and that's rather disgusting). Adding onto the fact that your head hurts like hell and you're getting the slightest bit nauseous from the pounding headache and the tilting boat, and you're not a happy camper.

After making one last comment about how you're sure that the food will be absolutely amazing, you silently excuse yourself, and wander away from the crowd, hoping to get some good, fresh air. From this distance, you can still see the groom's head towering above the ground, and vaguely wonder how the hell the two of them are going to be able to have a wedding kiss - the height difference is too damn high (as is the rental fee for this damn ship). But the thought soon passes as you finally reach the railing of the ship.

Breathing in deeply, you sigh, wondering why the hell you've driven yourself into this kind of hole; dependent off of drugs and booze, driven to debt. You really hate yourself, to be honest, finding your personality to be false, your actions to be half-assed, and your emotions to be dulled by drink and powders.

You wish you had a beer right now.

Leaning against the railing, you simply gaze out towards the sky, filled with puffy white clouds and wonder what the hell drove you to this madness. Your eyes narrow a bit, your mouth turns into a slight scowl, and the slight forehead wrinkles that have developed over time become more prominent. You feel old, tired, like the whole world has passed you by and you haven't even noticed.

It's almost as if you weren't meant to have existed, and when you die, the memories of you will fade out of people's minds, just like how the splendors of life have faded before your own.

[/blockquote][/color]

[gxk]

So many girls around the groom, how delightfully desperate of them. Lucan seemed strangely surprised when she touched him, as if she was made of ice. When in actuality that probably wasn't far from the truth. Nyx felt upset to her stomach at the sight of all these happy people. The smell of alcohol on some of their breath. Disgusting. The bride was going to have her hands full with all the ladies throwing themselves at her husband to be. Funny, when she'd gotten married no one had dared tried anything remotely like it. Because if they did, there would have been bloody hell to pay. And Elian would have broke the neck of any man who had touched her. That would probably be why they had so few guests. But Elian is dead, all gone, no more, worm chow. Nyx was born to be alone. Everyone is born to die, the question is how and why.


A very under dressed girl approached the groom next. Apparently she didn't know any better or didn't care. Her nervousness when speaking, and teary eyes made a cruel smile form on Nyx's pale face. What a joke. The sea salt in the air and the rocking of the boat was a welcome break from the a awkward presence of some of these strangers. Looking over her shoulder at Lucan, Nyx gave a lopsided grin, "Have fun with that. Hope you have a lovely time." With that she shoved off, throwing her elbow into anyone who didn't get out of her way. The crowded ship was not a good place for Nyx, too many people in too small an arena. It was driving her nuts. The sound of the waves crashing into the sides of the vessel were a sort of therapy to the uptight Nyx. She seemed to be in her own world at this point, eyes looking through the others around her. She was on a mission to find a semi quiet place to think.


Finally she emerged in a more secluded location looking over the rail of the back of the boat. A flash of gray caught her eye. Sharks. The two of us have somethings in common. Here fishy fishy, why don't you make yourself known? The giant fish disappeared along with Nyx's smile. It was a shame, he didn't even kill anyon- anything before leaving. What a boring trip for the former career. When the majority of your life has been dedicated to learning to destroy, civil meetings seem somehow dull. When your partner is dead, weddings seem somehow farcical. The groom at least looked to be about her age. Another stupid kid, signing his life away to another fool. Divorce won't get you out, no it only provides separation. There is only one true way out... Choose wisely, or better yet don't choose at all. Whoever came up with the idea of a wedding was a damn fool, and should be shot. So why was she here? Why not? It was like she had a barrier around her. No one, not even the drunks had spoken to her.


And what does that tell us?


The sense of being alone urged Nyx to reach into the pocket of her black and red dress. A crumpled piece of paper sat comfortably in the fabric of the pocket. A simple piece of paper, marred with black ink. Not a whole lot. But still it went everywhere with her. It was how Nyx justified many of things she did. A letter, the reason she ruined her relationship with her parents, the reason she was still all alone, the reason she was here on this damned ship. Her hand snatched the paper, fingers clenched around it. Pulling it out of her pocket she opened it up and read its familiar words.

Dearest Nyx,

I'm sorry you had to find out about things the way you did. I never meant for it to turn out the way it did. I'm begging you to forgive me. I don't deserve it, but I can ask anyway. Things that never should have happened did, I can't change them now. But can't we try again? Nyx when you walked away, you stabbed me in the chest, literally. But you didn't kill me career girl, that means something doesn't it? Of course it does. I'm not proud of what I did, and I know you're upset, you have every right to be. But you haven't even tried to talk to me since. Did five years mean nothing to you? Come on Nyx, one more chance. I won't do it ever aga-

The letter was cut short, the paper had stains of blood on it. Poor fool never got a chance to finish. Elian's death should have hurt Nyx more, he'd been her husband. But she found herself numb instead. It wasn't all that hard to deal with. He did it to himself, that's what she kept telling herself. And it worked, not once did she feel guilty for what happened. The only remorse Nyx felt was for not getting out sooner. Yes, even she had been a stupid kid once. Maybe that's why she was here. To try and help two others along their way. Really there was a soft side to Nyx, she wanted to see them succeed. Someone had to, why not them. She would let her experience go to some good use. Maybe have a drink or two. It took quite a bit for Nyx to get drunk, but the taste of alcohol had never really appealed to her. Though after Elian's death she went on a binge, boy was she hung over the next day. That was one day of her life she didn't care to remember. Come to think of it there were a lot of days that were less than enjoyable. They could go too. Except then she would be left with little to nothing. Not the worse thing.


Nyx pocketed the bloody letter. Smoothing her dress, she turned and looked out at the other guests. So many young ones not wanting to turn up the chance to party. They hadn't even gotten off the boat yet. Heh. Wait until the reception, there would definitely be a few of them falling down drunk. Oh how fun to see a bunch of kids have their first experience with excessive alcohol. At twenty-two some would still call Nyx a kid, but in her eyes she was legal to drink and safe from the Hunger Games, therefore an adult. Nyx scanned the crowds, no one particularly interesting. What a shame. She hated to be boarded. Maybe the island itself would provided some more entertainment. Oh, and there was still the bride to meet. Wouldn't she be pleased to see her husband surrounded with younger ladies. Not something most women would enjoy. But not knowing the bride Nyx couldn't make a fair judgment of how she would react. Maybe she would have just as many guys surrounding her, then they would be even. Mr. and Mrs... She stopped, now was not the time to go there. Nyx doubted there was ever a good time to go there, but it happened to the best of us after all.


Why was it whenever Nyx tried to be nice she had to have an ulterior motive? Really was it that hard to be sincerely kind to someone? Maybe. That just wasn't her nature. Being raised by Mr.Dymock didn't help. He was probably the most hated/loved man in District Four. Many adored his career training abilities, and skills as a business man, but even more hated his cruelty and disregard for other's feelings. Being his daughter had left Nyx as a mix between his dark side and her mother's sweetness. Lately though, it seemed her father's blood was winning out. The thought of how any child of hers would turn out always made Nyx cringe. It would not be a pretty picture. But who needs pretty pictures when you can get whatever you want with a few sweet words or a demonstration of sorts. Really Nyx liked children, but once they grew up, not so much. Children always seemed to have the right idea, play all day. She sighed, if only things were that simple. Simplicity was a thing of the past. Now thing were a tangled web of trust and betrayal, violence and kindness. Just when you though you'd figured it out another knot appears. And when that knot is undone, two more take its place. It's a never ending cycle.


A small smile cracked onto her face as she remembered an old saying her grandmother had shared with her about the latter of life. Everything had a place, everything needed everything else to survive. But in the end only the strongest survived anyway.The little fish eats the plant matter, the big fish eats the little fish, the large fish eats the big fish, and the shark eats them all. If you're strong you live, if you're weak you die.

[semper]

Despite the fact that the sun was out, it was still winter. Sawyer had on a plaid long sleeve flannel shirt and worn out jeans on, giving him more of a rugged and weathered look and making him look terribly out of place among the khaki pants and crisp collared shirts. Sure you had to dress up nicely for weddings, but it wasn't even the day of the wedding; why dress up before the actual event? But as the old man thought about it more, he realized that his idea of dressing up was just the most decent looking shirt he had and non-holey jeans. Maybe even a nice hat, too. No khakis or collared shirts for him.

As he hobbled along the deck with his cane, Sawyer's dark brown eyes scanned the faces of each person as he passed by. Some looked awful young, some maybe in their twenties, but none as old as him; he was certain that he had a solid forty years on all of them, which, in his mind, explained all the fancy clothes and the ship. Youngins. Always gotta have the finest things.

Turning around a corner, the elderly man nearly ran into the man of the hour -- or day, or days, rather. Mr. Lucan Hale, Sawyer's somewhat fishing partner. He never really enjoyed Lucan's company on the lake of the shore, but rather than telling off the kid, he bit his own tongue and restrained himself. Now, though, he felt as though he was obliged to be nice to Mr. Hale. Reluctantly raising his hand, Sawyer gripped onto Lucan's shoulder for a moment before patting it. "Nice to see ya." He muttered gruffly, very briefly making eye contact before moving on further along the deck.

"Hello."

Sawyer stopped, turning around to see a young male standing and looking at him. The elderly man glanced around him awkwardly, thinking the fellow was talking to someone else, but there was no one was nearby. He grumbled, turning back to face the kid. "Hello." He huffed, pausing momentarily. "Well, what're ya lookin' at? Obviously it's not me."

[/size]

[Stare]

Silver Emmend

[/size]
Now there's peace in all the land,
And over the deep blue sea.



The talk only continues to grow, and I bite my bottom lip, looking down at the deck. I know how stupid and anti-social I must look, so I try to make it seem as if I am searching for something with my eyes. There's a little swirly pattern in the wood...

Disgusting. Of all the people on the boat, I'm going to be the one who's not trying to make new friends? I'll be stuck with these people for a while. First impressions last a long time... and I do not want to be the girl who's sitting all alone on the island, watching others laugh and enjoy themselves. This is supposed to be an adventure, isn't it?

I look around, naturally wanting to go over by the groom. Of course, he's already surrounded, but something in his eyes tells me he isn't fully there. I don't blame him. Ladies can be so chatty... especially on occasions like this. I've been to my share of parties, although none as fancy as this. If one of them comes near me, I usually just tune them out, as he seems to be doing now...

I walk nearby, keeping my distance, and throw him my best knowing smile. I mouth "Thank you for inviting me", which he must've heard enough times to recognize the pattern. I doubt he knows who I am. It's been so many years since I saw him. To be honest, I barely recognized him. And he's not the only one who's changed. I've grown so much since that time. And my hair was blonde, back when...

My face darkens, and I duck my head down and walk away. Maybe talking to the groom isn't a great idea. It'll only bring painful memories. After all, I haven't seen him since... well, since my parents were alive. And even then, I'd only seen him once or twice. I was surprised he even remembered me.

Major changes in our lives cause major changes in ourselves. I loved the water back then, but I wasn't obsessed. I didn't depend on it. That was a different kind of time.

My bag containing all my clothes thumps against my side, annoying me. I shift it into a different position, which helps a little. But not much.

I hover near other groups, occasionally throwing a quiet statement which matches the conversation, before moving on, back towards the edge of the boat.

Well, it's not like I didn't try, I think, gazing at the crowd longingly.[/color][/size][/blockquote]

[sbeeg]

Caspian Mathers

The old man grumbled at Caspian and he immediately realized this was not the best person to approach. Caspian felt uncomfortable under the man's glossy gaze. His face was set in a permanent frown and now it was directed at Caspian. The boy took an instinctive step back, the man did not look like the nicest character on board and the cane he was leaning on looked as threatening as the sharks that occupied the waters in which they were sailing. Caspian's hands flew up trying to surrender and avoid the man's glare and irritated attitude.
"Well, what're ya lookin' at? Obviously it's not me."
"I- I-" a sentence tried to come out but Caspian held it in, only the first part stuttered out. What was he going to say? Hi, I'm an anti social teenage boy and I figured the only person that I could relate to is the oldest person in District Four, Hors D'ouerve? That would probably embarrass them both, so like any decent person Caspian puts on his best actor face and goes with the man's suggestion. Caspian may have been looking at him, but he didn't have to know that.
"Sorry there," Caspian brushed past the man with a surprise surge of confidence in his facade. He continued his "walk with a purpose" desperately searching for some one who's attention he could grab and not look like a total idiot in front of Sawyer.
His eyes scanning the deck for someone- ANYONE. Caspian reached the groom who was surrounded by girls, all young, and was attempting to talk to all of them. What I'd give to be swamped with girls like that the natural, testosterone charged part of Caspian's brain thought, gazing in envy. However, it was also the perfect opportunity. Everyone has to give their congratulations to the bride and groom! Caspian quickly stopped and slid into the crowd around... Lucan? Was that his name? The blond held out his hand to shake and opened his mouth to speak, using the words Best wishes instead of You lucky bastard, what's your secret? Why do the ladies like you so much?!
However, on further examination it became clear why they were shamelessly fawning over him. The man was gorgeous. Caspian's hands reached up to his own cheek, his finger tips feeling the groove of the scar there. It didn't exactly show off his features very well, more like morphing them. The boy mumbled something not-very-nice about the groom and turned away from his fan club. He'd gotten his short allotted time with an important member of the party, now it was the "wander around until we hit land" time.
Shoving his hands into his pockets to protect them from the salty wind, Caspian made his way to the railing, looking over it and thinking. Thinking about the wedding and girls, of course. No girl ever looked at Caspian without seeing the scar first, if not only. Scratch that. There was one girl but that is completely different situation, besides she's dead and there's no coming back from dead.
Letting out a deep breath that was picked up and carried off by the salty air, he let the breeze take his frustrations with it. Caspian briefly closed his eyes and let the boat rock back and forth, lulling him into a moment of peace.
The trip is a vacation, treat it like one.

[EVELANCHE WUHH?]

paisley armanda bridgenne
ALL THIS TIME I'VE BEEN WASTING -----------------------------

Paisley could only briefly recall ever speaking with the bride or the groom. Evvie had previously attended Pais's school, of that she was sure. Pais could remember an exchanged glance or two, but she doubted that she knew her name. Lucan, on the other hand, was more difficult to coax memories of out of the endless pits of reverie. She sealed her lips. Her name had been caled out around town, of course. Perhaps he had heard of her. She began to recall an evening that he dined at her house, but Pais had been very little, and she had slipped out of bed in her footie pajamas to watch them from the kitched. Oh wait - maybe that was another man entirely. Overall, the invitation had been a surprise. Perhaps they had simply wanted a large wedding. But Pais was quick to accept it, nonetheless, and it indeed came with quite a bit of rejoicing. It was the closest thing Pais might ever have to some kind of vacation.

On the other hand, Pais was kind of stuck for ideas upon how to couple had gotten together. The age difference was massive. It was funny to see a girl I had gone to school (at a distance) with. She had been two grades ahead, perhaps, as she remembered, three grades. Lucan hadn't even gone to school with either of them, as far back as she could recall. Despite this difference, Pais couldn't admit that she doubted them as for staying together. I mean, opposite attracted, right? And although Pais wasn't an all-over hopeful person, she could honestly say that she thought they were at least cute together.

Looking through the crowded deck, Pais realized that they were not together. Lucan was swamped in woman and girls of varying ages. They all seemed to be rather intrigued with him, though Pais admitted they could've been easily simply congratulating him. Still, Pais liked to ponder the fact of drama, and she giggled, looking around for an unfound Evvie to scold him. Personally, Pais had never found Lucan that attractive. Perhaps as a much younger boy, the teen would've saw him as handsome. But he was kind of old, and that was out of the question. Perhaps it was something about thirteen year old girls, and how they were attracted to youth and liked finding things 'adorable.' There was something that turned them off, like the shadow of a growing beard or a certain seriousness in the eyes that older girls must've found distracted. Pais found room for herself to wave it off. Though the wedding of a couple was supposed to be a romantic occasion, it was going to be strictly platonic for her, she hoped. Although interested in boys, there was no one here her age.

Pais looked down from the scene and into the blank, yellowing pages of her golden notebook. She stroked the streams of glitter erupting from the flawless page, unscathed by any marker. She creased her lips, wondering why she had brought it. It was her only present from her birthdaty, but that was hardly a reason. It was to keep her grounded, really. Pais realized that only subconsciencely. Grounded was a loose term that floated around in her head. It kept her somewhat aware that no matter how enchanting the vacation became, that she couldn't trust anyone, even a closest friend. Her parents were a swift warning of that, forgetting their only daughters brithday. Pais, on the verge of crying for the tenth time in the past week, let a small, lonely tear crawl down her tanning cheeks.

She reached into her bag, sitting limply beside her suitcase. It's contents were relatively unimportant. Sunglasses, for sure, a stub of a pencil, and a limp vacancy where Pais had withdrawn her notebook. She had been instructed not to have items besides her clothing taken on the ship. Pais counted sunglasses strictly as clothing, though more technically as an accesory. The notebook, she felt at ease with it, and she would think most people wouldn't scold her for it. She took out the short pencil, about now as long as her little finger. She hesitantly bounced it in her palm, throwing it up about an inch above her sticky fingers before resting it back in the security of her hands. She wanted to write, as she was really quite bored, but she didn't know what. She didn't want it to be exceptional Panem literature, and in fact, just the opposite. She wanted it to be only something she understood, something she could throw at her brain for a reality check.

Lucan, swamped. Her neat cursive handwriting marked the first page. It was elegant, but simple and loopy enough that one could tell it had been written by something of a kid. She shivered, staring deeper into the page, as if this first flaw in the glittering sheets not only marked the beginning of the notebook, but marked the beginning of everything.


---

WORDS: 837
OUTFIT: thin white tank, short jean shorts, leather sandals.

[Spesh]

Mahi Fisher

Mahi, why do you get yourself into these things? You would much rather be hanging out with friends, in fact, you'd rather be getting asked random questions about business by your dad right now. But no, you had to accept the wedding invitation and end up here. You. Just. Are. Brilliant!

I wish I could just go home now, why does this wedding on an island. I wish I could find a way to call my daddy and have him get one of his boats to come and pick me up. That would not be too hard for him would it? But how can I talk to him, there really is no way at all for me to do that right now... I guess I'm stuck on here, with this group -who actually seem excited about this wedding... Who could be excited about two people spending money to get married. Sure this is a nice wedding and all, but who really cares? My dad did not have a wedding on an island, and he is richer then these two I assume.

I could be with some boy, having fun right now. But I choose to be here... Brilliant, Mahi. You are just... brilliant...

[/size][/color][/justify]

[Stare]

Silver Emmend

[/size]
Now there's peace in all the land,
And over the deep blue sea.


For a moment, it's just me on the waves at the side of the boat again. The conversation of others just kind of fades away as I let my mind drift for a split second. It almost makes me forget about what a loser I am for not being social.

Almost.

Usually, I'm the first to make friends. But I feel like a child in this sea of teenagers and adults that are older than me. My self confidence has vanished, replaced with the fear that if I open my mouth, something stupid will come out.

I can't be acting this way at the wedding. Maybe, in the gown I chose out, I'll feel older. I'll look older. Maybe I'll earn some respect. But who will respect me if they don't even know my name?

I'm no good with adults and older teens. The only adult I was close with and can remember clearly was my grandma, and she was different. She didn't spend much time with friends. She enjoyed long walks along the beach. She was a daydreamer.

My eyes wander from person to person. Either they're talking to someone else, or look too cranky for me to really want to approach them. I see a few waves here and there, and hear a greeting called out. Another problem I have on this boat is that I don't know anyone. I barely know the groom. How many times did I see him? Once? Twice? I let the thoughts spin around in my head as I gaze over all the people.

And then someone melts out of the crowd. I boy, at least two years older than me, with a long scar on his face. I frown slightly, trying to decide whether to talk to him or not. I turn my back to the water, spreading my arms out and gripping at the ice cold railing, watching him out of the corner of my eye.

What would she look like to him? A desperate little girl, trying to find someone to talk to? A wierdo with silver hair? Or could I possibly, by some miracle, appear mature and normal?

I bite my bottom lip. If I embarrass myself, I can just avoid him for the rest of the trip. I briefly debate a little longer, before I finally sigh. I lean off the railing, temporarily loosing my balance when the boat sudden shifts slightly. I hear a wave hit the side of the boat at just the right angle, and then the shushing sound of the tiny water droplets rejoining the sea.

Glancing around, I move quickly, before I can change my mind. I notice his eyes are closed. He looks calm, and for a moment, I feel hesitant. Should I really disturb him?

I keep my distance, and find my voice with a tiny squeak. I close my mouth quickly, and make another attempt, feeling my face heat up.

"Ummm... excuse me. Are you feeling alright?"[/color][/blockquote]