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[{danny}]

axsoa saerio , district eleven .


i'm gonna make you bend and break,
it sends you to me without wait.
say a prayer but let the good times roll
in case god doesn't show.

A horrid sound comes from inside of Axsoa. A grumble, a murmur, slowly increasing in volume. That wasn't the only thing. There was an emptiness in his stomach rising up through his esophagus to his eyes. Something simple. Not hunger, not dehydration, not tiredness, nor sadness. He had reached a new low, and this was something he never felt before.
I'm... lonely. That's what the seventeen year old boy was, lonely. His sister was still sleeping, fore it was five in the morning, but how come the sun was peeking at Axsoa? Was it too shy to visit him today, or did it not want to encounter the criticism it would get from the warmth it would be bearing that day. Axsoa just wanted one thing to talk to.

He was used to being with his best friend, or his sister, or his mother, or his friends from school. Today, though, Axsoa woke up at five o'clock, and decided to go outside, get a whiff of the fresh air; his house-warming gift. After-all, the forest was his home. Just off to the right of his house, a dense forest grew with trees that grew a bare-minimum of leaves, and animals that roamed around looking for the dead worm hidden in the moist soil.

Humans, though, were technically animals. So why weren't there any of those species? Did the wild-cats in the shadows scare them off, or was how the sun was, angled so that the lightest part of the forest was the top of it, and it slowly faded to darkness. That's what Axsoa felt right now, darkness. It was growing inside him, turning his pale skin to purple, his green eyes to black, and his dirt marks to blood. He was starting to believe that if he lied down on the dark, wet ground, he could blend in, and become one with earth. But he was already one with earth.

let the good times roll.
and I want these words to make things right,
but it's the wrongs that make the words come to life.
who does he think he is?

At least Whiskers was with him, his cat. Orange with green eyes, colors that to Axsoa are ugly together, but they clash together on this feline. The cat meowed and purred and circled around Axsoa, like a dog tied to a tree. The three-year-old cat found itself crawling into Axsoa's lap, with his owner's legs criss-crossed-apple-sauce. The large hand of Axsoa stroked Whisker's coat of fur flat, and made the kitten purr like nothing else.

Axsoa has been alone in the forest a lot, of course with Whiskers by his side. But when's the last time he was actually with someone? He has no clue. His heart was extending through the crisp air, trying to grab onto another soul, someone to bring him up from his lowness.
No more waiting, he was just going to find someone. So Axsoa got up, with Whiskers in his arms, and he started venturing off to somewhere in this forest.

Finally, his feet led him to somewhere he never went. Somewhere in which only a certain type of sound is there, the most relaxing sound in all of Panem. The river. The blue, clear river which flowed down and down, far enough where Axsoa could no longer make out the rest of it. Axsoa walked down the river, the way it was flowing. Hoping someone else would be walking towards him.

one night and one more time,
thanks for the memories,
even though they weren't so great,
he tastes like you only sweeter.

[Tribute!{Meranda<3}Quell Botch]

I wanna have friends, that I can trust.

[/color]
Kwabena Jordan Cane [/center][/size]

Peering. He did this well. A steady gaze, intent on one specific object. The water. It flowed with such subtlety, winding around the black rocks that jutted out from its murky bottom. Ripples that ricocheted off one another drawing sharp lines across reflections of the tall winding trees. One small rock at a time, Kwabena dropped. He wasn't aiming for anything in particular. Only something to elongate the hours of the morning. Maybe if he sat he long enough pretending to have a purpose, his mother wouldn't send his brother out to search for him. Yes, he loved to please his parents. No. He couldn't spend another hour with so many people crammed into a shack of a room they attempted to call school. There were so many children his age. Many of them were the complete opposite of Kwabena's tiny frame. They were growing large with rock solid District Eleven muscles. He wouldn't be surprised if they started to resemble Marshelder.

Womanizing boys didn't have the same values as Kwabena. More accurately the mind set. He didn't understand the infatuation that teenagers began to have with one another. Kwabena still saw little Sally in the same way he always did. A girl. One that was sweet yet had messy brown hair tied in various knots-District Four would be proud. She still seemed to have a ring of jelly around her lips from her breakfast each morning and light skin due to days of being cooped up inside. When in actuality her breasts began to form her hair no longer braided together, and her skin no longer a milk chocolate, rather a dark. Yet, with all these changes Kwabena still was blinded; only allowing himself to see a small smudge of jelly on the corner of her mouth every once and awhile.

This is why he perched himself on a tall branch, in the middle of the woods. Eyes were still directed at the increasing flow of the water and wiggling fish within its depths. People weren't really his forte'. Nature. That was something that grew from his heart and encased his soul. Sometimes he thought that he was apart of the forest himself. Kwabena would believe that both his Mama and Pop found him, just like his strong brother. In the woods. That's why his insides were just like the roots of a tree. Everything centered at his heart. Veins like roots; running across his body handing out the nutrients in order from his legs to move and brain the think. All together he was a tree. Connected to the Earth, his brother, his parents. A tree all the same.

Who? The sound breached his ears, sending a painful spike of sound through his ear drums. Someone was coming. They're foot steps were heavy on top of his friend's head. I'm sorry Mama Earth. His feet be too heavy.

[/i] Eventually Kwabena's senses adjusted to the sound allowing him to function. Calming his nerves-although they were tingling one overdrive- Kwabena breathed in two light breaths before flinging himself off the branch. Air rushed past his face bringing a small smile across his features. He continued down the tree as if he was flying from branch to branch. Kwabena only stopped for a few moments when colliding with each branch just to push himself from them. At the last branch before dropping to Mama Earth's body he listened. The person was only about 20 yards away, feet still clomping along. Swiftly he dropped the forest floor, silently apologizing to Mama Earth.

Why are you here?[/b] Disappointed with the flute-like sound of his vocal cords Kwabena awaited the arrival of the boy.


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

That love me for the man I’ve become.
Not the man that I was.

Song: The Perfect Space; The Avett Brothers[/center]

[{danny}]

axsoa saerio , district eleven .


i'm hearing tears in my ear and it breaks my heart.
i live for tomorrow like i did from the start.
we need too stay strong when alone in the dark.
the consequence of love is knowing that you'll fall apart.

Axsoa heard shaking.
His first thought was earthquake. His over-exaggerated vision was proven wrong a millisecond after that idea was suspected. No other tree was shaken, not even the small, skinny ones. The gangly trees around him caved Axsoa in, he couldn't see the sky, but he didn't need to see the dim-blue light from above to know that no birds had flown away, surely, he would of heard them squawking up a storm. Now, Axsoa was allured to that tree, wanting to know its secret. He creeped closer, his large feet booming through the swallowed forest. Crunch, crunch, crunch. The fallen twigs and dead-as-night leaves were not nearly strong enough to mute the sound of bulky feet.

Axsoa's first thought was a moving tree, with straggly brown leaves, and two twigs sticking out the sides. Then, he realized it was a boy. In District Eleven, people were either very scrawny, or very strong. Axsoa was the scrawny side, and so was this boy. The kid was probably around the age of ten, and like most of the District Eleven population, he was a dark color. The most distinctive part of him was his hair, sticking out every-which way like a porcupines quills.
He looked welcoming - Whiskers wasn't afraid to approach him.

Walking around the boy and cuddling against his shins, the feline enjoyed the boy's presence, but Axsoa was humiliated that his cat would just annoy a kid like that. Axsoa trotted over, and took away his cat like it was nobody's business. "Sorry 'bout that," Axsoa said with a frown, putting Whiskers on the ground next to him, "he isn't well-trained."

Axsoa trailed his eyes away from the boy's face, too embarrassed to be seen, even though it wasn't a big deal.

tragic, madness makes sadness a gorgeous work of art.
that's capable of lightining up our darkness with a spark.
i'm going through the storm like noah upon on the arc.
tell me how it feels when you fall head over heels.

for the one girl that gives your spine that electric feel.
you see father time will always have his ideals.
and mother natures love is never ending unreal.
but in the end their good friend death will be revealed.

ooc; sorry for the mega-shortness:3