|::|We've Changed|::| [Chaos, Jasik]

[Stare]

When darkness falls,
You can see the stars.
<><><><><><><><><>

The thing I hate about mirrors is that they never lie. Wandering around, sleeping under the stars, I never had to look in them. I didn't see that I was changing. Now that I'm trying to become civilized again, though, all I see is mirrors. But the person in them isn't me. I've learned to despise the haunted look in my eyes, and the way the corners of my lips never turn up in a smile. The stars in my eyes are still there, but they are dying. There is emptiness where a spirit used to be. There is no mystery to me anymore. Midnight is fading into a time and place that seems simply blank.

But I wouldn't be the first to have my light dimming.

It's hard not to miss the old days. I was free and happy and a mystery. I had friends I could count on. I had the base, with people there who knew me and maybe even cared about my well being. The lonely girl who never talked became surrounded by a protective circle of those who actually talked to me. And my spirit grew.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a bird with broken wings.
At times I dread my now and envy where I've been.

I became more talkative. I was actually enjoying my life. I didn't realize that slowly, I was beginning to depend on these connections with other people. And as the slowly began to fade, I found myself falling into a deep, dark hole that I don't think I ever really got out of. Even today, I'm still lost. Flight is here now. But I'm not.

Regret is something I can't feel. I hate that I said those things, but I won't apologize. For some reason, I feel that what I said was right. And regret refuses to come, although I know I should feel it. Many feelings should be coming right now. But when I decided it was best to numb the pain, I numbed everything else. It's happened before. But this time, I'm going to have a harder time finding emotions again. I may never be back to normal. But maybe that's for the best. I've broken too many times. And, although I dislike the way my hands shake and my empty eyes don't move, it might be time to just give up and give in. I've been fighting too long, too hard.

I swallow down the bitter taste in my mouth, walking away from the town and the mirrors that haunt me and refuse to lie. I'll go anywhere but there. People stare at me sometimes. When I walk through. Even though the Capitol has broken them, they are not as distant as I am. They see the defeat. But they have to right to observe my emptiness. It's not a bad thing. I'm not depressed. I'm just... gone.

But that's when quiet wisdom takes control.
At least I've got a story no one's told.

I've searched for such a long time. All over the district. But I haven't found her yet. She's still alive. People whisper her name when I walk by. It's true, I look a lot like her. After all, she is my mother. My eyes seperate me from her, though. Her's are a light blue. People say they haven't seen her in a while. I've looked up her name, but can't find it anywhere. They seem to recognize me, though. And the worst part is the look in their eyes. Because they been through this before. When my mother was looking for me.

I stop at the edge of the woods. My eyes stare at the small, think trunks tiredly. I've been walking around all day. And I'm starving. I need to rest. I look up, observing the sun, which is just above the tree tops. Not quite sunset yet. But I've been going like this for so long. I need a break. I need to just stop and relax.

I finally learned to say whatever will be will be.
I've learned to take the good and bad and breath.

I find a large tree trunk, but no tree. It looks like it was cut down a long time ago. My icy hands brush off the snow, and I sit down, curling my knees up to my chest and resting my elbows between them. The cold palms of my hand press against my eyes, soothing them. My fingers curl up, over my forhead, parting their way through my black hair. The cool fingers feel good against my bare scalp. I lean my head forward, so the backs of my hands find warmth near my knees.

Sometimes, when it became to much, I would huddle in this same position. And I would whisper. I'd whisper about the past, when I was happy. I'd whisper about my mistakes. I'd whisper about just about everything, really. As long as I could distract myself from the present. I whisper now, two. So quietly, it's hard for even my ears to pick it up. I mumble about when I find my mother, and how the emptiness will be gone soon. I whisper about how I'm going to be just fine, and these scars will heal, and it'll be just like the old days again.

Sometimes, it's easier to lie to yourself.

Cause although we like to know what life's got planned,
No one knows when shooting stars will land.

[/blockquote][/justify]

[Jasik]

:: Jasik Miller ::

Jasik missed the rebels. He wasn't going to lie about it, or try to convince himself otherwise. The past few months had been hard for him, and the lack of friends to look to for assistance in the harsher times had been terrible. But he had promised himself that he wouldn't go back to them. If not for his own sake, then for the sake of his family.

People had begun to recognize the young boy as a lawbreaker around the district. His association with the rebel organization had not flown under the public's radar, and if he had continued to violate laws he ran the risk of being arrested. Even if he had managed to remain anonymous to the majority of the Peacekeepers, there was never a shortage of potential informers among the citizens.

It wasn't just that if Jasik was arrested, he would suffer. No, if he was arrested, his entire family would pay the price of his crimes. All five of his young siblings and his sickly mother practically lived on Jasik's illegal poaching. His father brought home what he could, but as an adult his killed game was more closely monitored. Besides, what the Capitol paid the hunters was barely enough for small families to scrape by. They were a large family by district standards, so naturally, they needed more. As a young teenager, Jasik could manage to slip some food past the Peacekeepers and to his family with relative ease. Hence his title as breadwinner for the family.

So even though he wasn't an open rebel anymore, he still regularly broke the law. It was still risky, but if he didn't do it, his family would slowly stare to death. Really, Jasik could be publicly executed for his crimes despite his young age, but at least it would be faster than starving to death and helplessly watching his family die with him. That was really his only other option.

All around me are familiar faces,
Worn out places, worn out faces.
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere.

At the moment, he was bundled in all the warm clothes he could spare and wrapped in blankets, lazily waiting for game to wander by so that he could kill something to bring home with his government-issue bow and arrow. If the Peacekeepers asked at the end of the day, he would just say that he had failed to kill anything while in reality whatever he had managed to bring home would be hidden away somewhere. They would believe it. Whenever he lied about that, they never asked for evidence or any crap like that. Jasik was young, so they wouldn't expect him to be a good shot or a particularly skilled trapper. They were almost right about the former; before he had met Aridosle, he had been one of the worst archers in the district. He had been forced to make due with his traps -- which he was actually pretty good at assembling and concealing -- and a knife on the rare occasion that he could sneak up on an animal den and corner them inside. It hadn't resulted in much, but it had kept them alive.

Aridosle. Jasik owed him so much. Only after the rebel leader had taught him how to shoot had Jasik's family begun to see regular supplements of fresh meat on the table. Without Ari's help, Jasik's family would still be starved and trembling against the freezing winter air. Although his involvement in the organization had resulted in some dangerous consequences, Jasik still couldn't look past the fact that Ari's patient guidance had kept him and his family alive.

Their tears are filling up their glasses,
No expression, no expression.
Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow,
No tomorrow, no tomorrow.

Sighing, Jasik stuffed his blankets into his game bag and shimmied down the slick, icy bark of the tree trunk. His feet were buried up to his ankles in fresh snow when he landed on the ground. The cold weather mainly provided problems for the poorer district. It drove potential game into hibernation, resulting in far less bountiful hunts. Freezing air and icy precipitation particularly harmed the most impoverished citizens, and it wasn't uncommon for people to be found frozen to death on the streets of the district slums. Jasik's family lived there, although they were no longer as hungry as the others thanks to the rebels. That fact only made Jasik all the more guilty about deserting.

Yes, he had basically deserted. Just stopped showing up to meetings, never returned to the base. He had dropped out of contact with all of his friends and retreated back to his family, who he had been growing ever distant from the more he got involved in the rebellion. The fact that he had virtually abandoned all of them made him feel like a terrible, unforgivable excuse for a human being, but he had unsuccessfully tried to shake the feeling away. His well-being and the well-being of his family were far more important to him than the current state of the rebels. Besides, there were plenty of them. He would soon be forgotten.

Call it a hunter's instincts, but some kind of shift in the air revealed the presence of another living being nearby. Jasik swiftly drew an arrow and nocked it into position, crouching and waiting for more signs of life. A twig snapped not far off, and he set off in the direction of the noise. An icy breeze bit at his face, and although it was unpleasant it did reveal that he was, in fact, downwind of his prey. He smiled a bit to himself. Tonight, his family would be full. Assuming this wasn't some skinny rabbit or something.

He caught sight of a form threw the layer of frozen branches that certainly wasn't a useless, skinny rabbit. Cautiously, knowing that one false move could send that thing flying off into the maze of trees, Jasik drew back his arrow and took aim. Ari's advice drifted back to him. Breathe deeply, release the arrow on the exhalation. Bitter, cold air slowly flooded Jasik's lungs, as he lined up the arrow with his target. He was just about to release both his breath and the arrow when he froze. That wasn't an animal. It was a human, huddled on a fallen tree. But what's more, she looked familiar.

Children waiting for the day they feel good,
Happy birthday, happy birthday.
And I feel the way that every child should,
Sit and listen, sit and listen.

Slowly, Jasik lowered his bow but did not remove the arrow. The black hair, the slight physique were common features in District Nine, but those eyes... they were unmistakable. Although they were swiftly hidden when she placed her head on her knees, Jasik had seen the stars. It had to be Luna. Only she had such fascinating eyes. But something in them seemed... dead.

For a while, Jasik just sat in his natural cover and contemplated revealing himself. If he did, what would Luna do? Would she be happy? Angry? Upset? Indifferent? Would she accuse him of abandoning the rebels, which he had actually done? What he had done was unforgivable, but he did it not only for himself but for his family. Who could blame him for putting his family first and his public lawbreaking last? Well, the rebels, for one, a voice piped up in the back of his head. Jasik tried to ignore it.

Really, Jasik also owed Luna personally, too. As he had nursed her back to health after her nearly deadly fall from the roof of the rebel base, she had taught him how to throw knives. Although seemingly trivial in the eyes of some, it was actually a pretty useful hunting ability. But maybe it evened out, considering he had saved her life and all. Not just from the fall, but from Flight.

Went to school and I was very nervous,
No one knew me, no one knew me.
Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson,
Look right through me, look right through me.

What had happened to Flight? After that day at the base when she and Jasik had held an almost fatal battle, he had not seen her. What had happened? Did she join the rebels? Vanish into the forest beyond the fence? Melt into the general public of the district? For some reason, that last possibility didn't seem very likely. Jasik barely knew Flight, but he could tell that she wasn't the kind of girl who would settle for a life of mediocrity as a generic district resident. That wasn't the Flight Jasik had seen.

That wasn't important right now, though. What was important was how he would decide to handle this current situation. It wasn't too late to just turn back, to head off in a different direction and erase his tracks. He was getting cold just standing there, too. Movement would help warm him up, get some feeling back into his limbs and extremities. But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to just leave. He had to make his presence known. So, taking a deep breath, he stepped out of his hiding spot into the open. Hey, Luna, he said, his voice a bit scratchy from lack of use for several hours. He couldn't help but notice that all of the light seemed to be drained from the stars in her eyes...

And I find it kind of funny,
I find it kind of sad,
That dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.
I find it hard to tell you,
I find it hard to take,
When people run in circles it's a very, very
Mad World.

[sadniss everdeen]

Flight DeRicasho

[/size][/center]

|And it will hurt. It will always hurt. But not everything can heal. |

can't stand by myself
hate to sleep alone
surprises always help
so I take somebody home

[/font]

I awake from aphotic slumber long before the dawn, room still and silent in the quiet hours. Sweat rolls down my temples and collects in the hollow of my spine, flannel pajamas sticking to my adhesive skin like they wish to become a second part of me. My fiancee holds me in a vice, and it takes all the self-restraint I possess to wiggle carefully out of her hold. She doesn't wake, but mumbles in her sleep and curls into a tight ball to compensate for lack of heat. I pad silently to our flimsy bathroom and slide open the door, stumbling inside and sitting heavily on the toilet. My fingers shake even as I plunge a lanky arm into the depths of the counter, fingers scrabbling to seek purchase. Once the bottle rests firmly between my thighs I struggle to open the childproof lid, letting use a low whine when half the contents tumble to the floor. There is only a moment's hesitation:

Lithium isn't something you want to screw around with, Flight. It gets you all kinds of fucked up.

before tossing back three pills and dry-swallowing them; it's unsure that I'll last the time it takes me to get to the sink. For a moment I feel them stick precariously halfway down my malevolent maw before they slowly tumble the way down, plopping into my stomach with a guilty sense of satisfaction. My fingers pluck an irratic tune against the smoothness of my thigh, becoming less and less irritated as the familiar numbness creeps along the taut planes of my muscles. They take longer than usual to kick in and I whimper like a child unable to have her way, before I take a deep breath and count backwards from ten. Deliberately my breathing slows to a quiet sigh - when I'm done I still have a slight twitch in the right side of my body but it doesn't feel like I'm dying anymore.

My eyes droop close momentarily and my lengthy legs splay out haphazardly as I wait for the dangerous mix of medicine to take effect. To the naked eye nothing is wrong, but every nerve in my body hums violently. I'm weak and shaking and all I want to do is curl up and die, but instead I stumble awkwardly to the shower and slap the faucets, making them scorch my skin as I slump against the wall and lifelessly allow the burning rivulets to sear a trail of reddened flesh in their wake.

Five minutes later, my eyes have clouded and things aren't nearly as important as they should be. I smile, unaware of the monster's withering glare.

---

to find out how I feel
feel like just a baby
portrait of a lady
poster of a girl

Each step reverbrates into my ears as I crunch heavily through the bracken, only a fraction of my ever-present grace allowing me to stay upright. The comforting haze in the corner of my vision keeps me rooted to the earth, but each object has a slightly unreal quality that keeps my head on a continuous loop. My smile is infectious even as my head lolls back on my shoulders, taking an unbelievable amount of strain to keep upright. Every single cloud seems especially surreal today - it's only my thrumming high that stops my whole body from going nuclear and caving in on itself.

Honestly, I never meant for any of this to happen. After spattergroit, I couldn't resist the temptation again. Though I survived the infection the resulting complications might well ruin me, my friends, and my... family. Something I've never had to worry about before. It hurts knowing that this is something beyond my control (I thrive on command, and being without it infuriates me) and renders me ambisinister, content to wallow in bitter rage until my high wears off and I'm forced to do something, even if it's just to get up and take that next hit. Before setting off my reflection looked back at me, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you high?" I let out a toothy grin.

"Yup. As a kite." It sighs and plays with the large, gaping scar that runs horizontal across the hardened planes of my face. "I thought we were over this." I simply shrug back in return, watching the clouded eyes - well, eye, considering my right is always murky now - with an untitled sense of amusement. Feeling is dulled so it's just so damn hard to care right now, with the one drug that I really shouldn't be messing with lest I have a deathwish running through my veins. "It called, and I answered."

je sais que tu n'aimes pas ta réalité
tu sais que tu n'aimes pas ta réalité
tu sais que je n'aime pas ma réalité
on ne peut pas fabriquer la vérité

[/color]

Those who class us have never fully embraced the suffocating euphoria of what we immerse ourselves in daily - a constant struggle to devour enough to escape reality, but not so much that we become a catatonic shell. Each chemical reaction that sends stars shooting through the backs of our liquid skulls is carefully executed in their frenzy; organized chaos at its best. With the rise and fall of my chest (it hitches high and settles lowlowlower, my fingers cramp and shivershudderstill) humming as an out-of-tune metronome I lope through the trees with a fluid yet off-centered balance. My surroundings should be familiar - I have lived here my whole live, I detest this banal familiarity - but each indifferent shrub and branch is entirely foreign. Thoughts blur together as one tangled mess of fucking and warring at my feet, a snarling mass of disjointed memories coupled with wild emotions. There are times of a not-so-distant past, whisperings of a recent time when I let in and became the one thing I feared.

The monster.

It doesn't scare me when high. This opaque shield that severs me from normalcy hides me from its frigid embrace, coating me in a pool of fuzzy warmth that evaporates any ice that would dare claim my form. I can feel the sockets that watch hot on my neck, glaring with a mix of anger and disappointment. In truth, we are more alike than I would like to think - we both thrive on control, and were normal once upon a time. "They stalk the forests." It murmurs quietly, and I don't bother to hide my confusion that creeps slowly into xanthrous eyes. In return bony fingers gesture in front of me, and it takes a moment to settle on a specific spot (the comforting haze in the corners of my vision drags all concentration to hell) with a figure curled on the low slump of a tree. Upon closer inspection, the familiar mane of raven tresses jogs my memory of something vile.

'cause I know how it feels
filling in the blanks
looking on the bright side
when there is no bright side

[/color]

They cower and I sneer, teeth glinting dangerously in the lowlight even as I stalk their room from the shadows. She is too confident in her wits - she does not see the father and I will not help her. It will do her good to earn a little humility. Each breath coruscates through my dilated blood vessels in wisps of whtie-hot rage, an animalistic howling that bubbles just beneath the crazed but collected exterior that I project outwards into reality. The youngest of the children (little boys are almost the most amusing - they cry for mercy the loudest) starts a high, keening wail that is a distress signal unique to his voice. So intent on the smaller, more visibly insane girl standing in their midst, I stalk quietly over to the window and wrap a firm hand around his mouth. He squeaks as I hoist him up high, snarling when the mother makes a grab for him.

"Touch me and die. I simply wish for him to... quiet down. Consequences might arise if our friend is angered."

She whimpers and I hold the squirming child roughly, savoring in the fear rolling off of his family in waves. From his twilight perch the father glares at me as though it would melt the ice that has curled around my heart from years of pratice, but I simply give a sickly sweet smile and watch impassively as my companion - she grows frustrated, the pinnacle approaches - attacks on the subject of her mother. The last traces of whatever warmth she infused in this place has long since disappeared; but she is so blinded by wrath that this fact doesn't yet grow readily apparent.

The father has already been driven to insanity by his offspring's cries, and the plank he held precariously close to his chest snaps forward as if by his own accord - it connects with her head with a sickening crack. Those bioluminescent eyes roll back and her body teeters precariously before toppling over on itself. My smirk turns feral as the blood is spilled, but as she refuses to rise a protective instinct overrides this bloodlust and makes me lurch perhaps not of my own accord. "Luna!"

waiting for the offchance
with a...
poster of a girl

[/color]

Spurred by the memory my gaze flash dangerously lucid before I stagger into the clearing, wide eyes and bared teeth, fuelled by an incomprehensible anger that churns within my core. It's her fault I turned into what I was, so obsessed with her mother nad betrayal that the monster was easy to conquer my fragile mind. "You!" I roar, focusing more on keeping my steps level than actually projecting a semblance of sobriety. "What the fuck are you thinking?! Coming here, so close to the family that you almost killed! Do you have no fucking idea of self-preservation at all?" Everything is so blurry and confusing but I try so hard to watch her, noticing but not particularily caring about how dead she seems. The only thing I require is retribution and the knowledge that she understands that lapse in judgement was quite possibly one of the most stupid things she'll ever do. My mouth opens to yell at her more, but a figure catches my eye (it's a miracle I even see him through the haze).

"Come out, boy." I slur, relaxing fingers from frozen claws. "Or I'll make you."


[OOC: Yes, gradients! I feel so pro. And I apologize for the shitty ending.][/color][/size][/blockquote]

[Stare]

When darkness falls,
You can see the stars.
<><><><><><><><><>

We've all done things we regret. Anger and pain and hate take control of us, making us say things we don't mean. They make our actions more dramatic, and more senseless. The danger we get ourselves into is unavoidable. The pain we cause others is remembered forever. But something inside us continues to tell us what we did was right. Our pride is something that drives us into insanity as the ongoing battle between what we want to be right and what is right continues inside us. Perhaps these battles would end if we'd let them. But we don't, and they go on.

Seeing Jasik and then Flight draws me back into my warm, easy past. But the separation is obvious between us. Jasik looks concerned and uncertain. I can't help but notice the skin under his eyes is a bit darker. Has he been worried about something? I can't imagine this. The rebels can make you feel safe, no matter what. I remember all the nights I slept well there. But I also remember some of the nights that I was awake for a very long time, staring at the patterns on the wall. Perhaps he's worried about his family? His new friends? It's certain he's forgotten about me and Flight.

Flight obviously has drugs in her system. It's clear to me in the way she moves, and the way she speaks. Her eyes are different, too. Harder to read. Harder to understand. But it still dims. It still flickers inside her, even in this state of rage that is, for some reason, directed at me. The emptiness inside me feels no sympathy. I stare at her with dead eyes, welcoming her into the way I feel, trying to make her realize that I am gone, and I don't care anymore.

My gaze shifts back to Jasik, and I rest my chin on my knees. My hand goes back to feel the lump on my head, and it stings. I don't wince, though. Not in front of them. Jasik probably only sees me as unstable. Most of the time we were friends, I lacked my usual strength. He was the one who cared for me all that time. There is no need to show him even more weakness. And Flight... she doesn't deserve to see the pain. It's her fault, after all. It's all her fault. She saw him. She could have helped me. But she didn't, and I am done trying to make excuses for her. I am broken and she has done nothing to help pick up the pieces. I would have helped her in a heartbeat. If I was her, I wouldn't have hesitated when I saw her fall. I would have been by her side in an instant.

"You think I don't remember, Flight?" my voice is steady and careless and empty. There's just nothing left in it. I can't be angry or scared, no matter how much I try. "You think I don't remember how you stood by and let him hurt me? I'm not surprised you blame me for my actions, though. Wasn't it you who said we cannot be held accountable when insanity takes over? But still, you don't understand that part. You don't know what it's like to loose someone you love and end up unable to find them again. And even if you did, you wouldn't care."

There is not a hint of ice in my voice. Or accusation. Or anger. Simple fact and nothingness that is only a hint to what I'm feeling inside. The certainty is very clear, though. I feel that I speak the truth. "You don't care about my empty pain."

I turn my head towards Jasik, and my eyes soften. I owe him my life. For the first time in a while, my lips turn up in a small smile. It's soft and gentle and understanding. But there's also a hint of sadness to it, that is just mixed in with the rest. It is not felt inside, but it is showed outside.

Life likes to force me into situations I hate. This whole thing is like a reunion. But we're different, now. We've changed. We don't depend on each other like we used to. He saved my life. She saved my life. I tried to give back, but never could. I only caused pain for both of them. So I cut myself off, and drove myself insane. And then I emptied myself of all emotion, because I thought it would help. And now, here I am, one yelling at me, and one greeting me. And all I want is for them to just get away. They didn't seem to have any trouble staying away when I actually needed them.

I know I should be glad to see Jasik. I haven't seen him in such a long time. He was my friend, and I trusted him. And I know I should be mad at Flight for yelling at me. She was a part of it, just like I was. She can be blamed too. But instead of feeling joy and anger, I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Maybe I should be afraid. The blow to my head knocked the voices right out. But what if they come back? I'm in no state to fight them. When I was well I couldn't do anything against them. Only my promise to Flight saved me then. But no one is strong enough to reach me now. No one cares enough to save me. Should I be scared? Maybe. Am I scared? No.

I do my best to ignore Flight. To pretend she's not there. But it's hard. So I just focus on Jasik, and remember. I remember the way Flight almost killed him. I remember how he saved my life when I stabbed myself, and when I fell off the roof. I remember his excited face when I was teaching him to throw knives. He was doing such a good job... I remember how he fought Flight when we first met her, and I was useless to him. I remember all the jokes and laughs we shared when I was recovering. I remember a lot about our friendship. I was happy back then. But I don't feel very happy now. I try to look the part, because I don't want to worry him. But there is no hiding the exhaustion clear on my face and in my voice.

"Hey, Jasik. I've missed you."


((OOC: Gradients are fun!))

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