>I Am Skin & Bones< [Colan vs. Raphale]
Jul 20, 2011 12:20:27 GMT -5
Post by Nervoux on Jul 20, 2011 12:20:27 GMT -5
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But oh, my heart was flawed
I knew my weakness
So hold my hand
Subscribe me not to darkness
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
But oh, my heart was flawed
I knew my weakness
So hold my hand
Subscribe me not to darkness
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
Colan sat down on the wet ground, his eyes filled with immense amounts of guilt and grief as they stared at the sky. The image of the fallen tribute's faces shot into the sky, the Capitol's anthem flooding his mind. With each face that came, he imagined how they must have died. It bothered him how he could see them getting stabbed so clearly in his mind, as if he had seen it so mnay times already, that he could see every little detail. In just the one day, he had seen too much. Sebastian getting killed in one short second; Jaimie stabbing herself in the heart. He could still hear the sound it made as the blade sliced into her chest.
Colan groaned, closing his eyes as the picture of Sebastian shot into the sky, his smile in the picture creating immense amounts of irony to how he had really died. His weary gaze stared up at the face, trying his best to remember every feature, as if he would never see the face again (most likely he never would). He did his best to seperate the happy picture from the bloody face that lied on the blood-soaked ground, though it was extremely difficult. The moment that the weapon had made contact with his ally's face kept replaying in his head, causing him to hunch over with a groan. If only he could've jumped in to save Sebastian and flee with him, where he would be sitting with him at this exact moment, watching the other tribute's faces light up the night sky.
'Stop thinking about it' Colan thought warily, his eyes containing the melancholy look that was often seen etched across his features. Slowly, he forced himself to look away from the sky, pulling his knees up to his chest. His head slowly lifted up to stare at the thick canopy of leaves above him, his gaze focusing on the animals that stirred among the vegetation, every once in a while their eyes flashing toward him. His thumb absent-mindedly brushed over the mace lying in his lap, wishing that he could throw it up there and kill one of the animals. But of course, he never practiced with this weapon.
Images flashed before his mind as he remembered racing off with the mace after Jaimie had killed herself, the two tribute's eyes behind him watching him in confusion. In his mind, he believed he had done the right thing. He had easily noted how Saskia and Razor teamed up, or atleast they worked better together than with him. But of course, no one felt comfortable with him, except for his ally. There was still doubt, though, about if he should've taken the weapon. He continued to tell himself that this was the Hunger Games; it was nromal to steal weapons after someone died, but it just went against everything he had learned as a child. Stealing was wrong, even in the worst of situations. Killing was unforgivable, even if it was on accident.
Colan sighed, slowly coming out of his memories and focusing on the weapon held firmly in his hands. He studied the way his knuckles seemed to turn white from the way he was gripping it, as if at any moment something would jump out at him. The metal glinted against his tanned skin, the metallic surface reflecting the moon that managed to shine through the thick layer of trees and leaves. He could still see the spots of red liquid on the weapon, the blood causing the air to be more ominous. He didn't know who the blood belonged to, though he had had an uncomfortable thought that it came from Jaimie when she killed herself. Her dying words still rang in his head.
"I don't know what to say about you. You seem like an okay boy. Except for the fact that you tried to kill me, which is understandable since this is the Arena." As much as he tried to push the words out of his mind, they still continued to flood his thoughts and echo against the enclosures of his head. It bothered him how he tried to kill the girl, even if it was the Hunger Games. It began to occur to him how he just accepted his fate: That he was a murderer. He had killed his mother and sisters, afterall. So why not just kill another? It killed him that he was thinking that, for with another death came the unimaginable guilt and the need to shut himself away from the world. It was still murder if it was an accident.
Colan groaned at the thoughts, the memories and words beginning to confuse him, creating turmoil in his tortured mind. His hand clenched tighter around the weapon, the urge to throw it at one of the animals ocurring in his mind. Afterall, he was hungry. He might as well try to eat something. But then again, he was in a jungle, where plants were everywhere. He had taken the edible plants station, and would most likely be able to find something to eat, and probably find some herbs. Finally, something good to look forward to.
He immediatly stood from his position, wincing as he put pressure on his right leg. Colan's determined gaze traveled over the many leaves, trying to find anything that looked familiar to him from the station. His steps were quiet on the ground as he weaved through the trees, his gaze narrowed on the many bushes and leaves. Finally, one of the plants growing in the ground caught his attention, the way the leaves curved oddly familiar to him. He bent down slowly, his fingers brushing over it, recognizing the texture immediatly. In one quick motion, he was digging the plants out of the ground, brushing off the dirt and stuffing them in his dry mouth. The taste was bitter as it moved down his throat, though it was better than nothing. He stared at the remaining plants, placing them in his pocket to save for later.
Colan stood from his position, beginning his search for medicinal herbs, though it was cut short. The sound of rustling leaves drifting toward him, the sound echoing in his ears like the words that continuously drifted arund him. He easily noted how heavy the step was compared to the animals that roamed this part of the jungle. Slowly and carefully he placed his mace comfortably in his hand, moving forward with fast and easy steps. The instructions of the Stealth station's instructor fortunatly continued to replay in his head, helping him along the way.
He seemed to move for hours before the sight of another tribute came into view, his back facing Colan. A grim expression remained on Colan's face as he slowly stepped forward, lifting his mace to strike him. His eyes were wary as he got close enough to hit the tribute, the thought to turn around and leave ocurring to him immediatly. But he didn't listen to them. He had to do this, to return to his father and his animals. He needed to get home.[Attacks Raphale - Mace]
[dice=200+7000]
[Block - 0 Damage]
[rand=0645958550184815842754835477995015248356832509088942692506744683]
