A Voice // [GreenBeads]

[chelsey]

R A P H A E L D I C A S T I L L O

text -- CCBB99, characterdialogue -- 999966, otherdialogue -- CCBB88

The day was cold.

The sky was overcast and drooped with a dull heaviness that could seem to spiral down at any second now. The trees, though already beginning to once again bloom with Spring's coming essence, stood bare and naked with the consistency of winter's chill. The wind shook the branches above with a gentle but magnetic force. Even the broken twigs and dead leaves that crunched under my every step seemed to cry out a plea of despair.

How long has it been since I've left? Prisoners are lucky. They're aware of their surroundings, of their environment. They can keep track of how long they've been behind bars, starting from just one scratch on the wall to hundreds of tallies counting up their locked up days. Oh, but I guess I'm in a prison, too - more or less. Wandering - running away from a past that never fails to follow after me - doesn't have it's liberties. The forest is my jail, and the animals and plants that come with it are my cell mates. Prisoners and me, though in entirely separate worlds, share one thing in common - the lack of freedom. I'm not entirely sure of how old I am anymore. It couldn't have been more than one or two years, and I'm probably no older than seventeen or eighteen - but time transforms people. Experience can change a happy person into the most pessimistic of pests. And, although I may be young, I am aged with sadness.

I venture on down the never ending foliage, whacking at some mindless branches and bushes that may be lying in my path. I swear, I've seen these trees before - countless times, over and over again. I'm greeted with the fear that I've been walking around in circles, a never ending loop that symbolizes my pointless existence. I want to cry, I want to burst into thousands of tears and wash my system clean of horrific images that are still sewed into my mind. I want to scream over the haunting sounds of my mother being beaten by a monster my own dad. I want to collapse to the ground and hit earth with my bare hands, strangle it with a power I don't possess.

So, why don't I?

No one's watching - no one's even fucking here. I'm all alone, stranded on a deserted island, a growing pine tree in the middle of a desert. I don't belong here.

Instead, I bite back the tears that violently pose a threat to cross over the threshold of my eyelids. I still must stay strong, even if I will ever be the only one to witness it.

This pathetic facade, however, takes up a lot of precious energy, and I have to sit down near a huge tree before I continue on lonely adventure. I gather my knees together close to my chest, and wipe the grime off of my face with my shirt. Then, I rest the left side of my face on my knees, closing my eyes for what seems like an eternity.

First, it is brutally dark and I'm not aware of where, what, or who I am. I'm enveloped in total darkness, no hopes or prospects of ever escaping. Then a light flickers in the distance, and glimpses of my life pass before my eyes. A kiss on the forehead, a bedtime story, a childish lullaby - all of these things rocking me over a wave of emotions. Then, it's my mother standing in the opening of the light, with a little girl timidly clutching her hand. She's saying something, and gesturing something for me. My ears strain to hear her, but I can't, I can't hear anything she says. She beckons to me with her hand, to follow her, to join her at wherever she's at. I try to move, but to my own horror - I am paralyzed. I'm a stone statue, drowning in the bleak darkness around me, and the more I try to fight it, the more I go down. Soon, my mother is nothing but a blurred spot in my vision, and with my last suffocated breaths, the light disappears.

It's still day when I awake, although I'm not sure if I just slept through the whole night or for only a few hours. My body is stiff from the position I slept in, and my bones crack when I break them apart to stretch. I should be moving, walking around to find a place to stay the night in or something to quiet down the grumbling of my stomach. But, I disobey my mind. I remained seated near the trunk of the tree, as frozen as the statue I was in my dream nightmare.

This unconscious reminder of my mother awakens me to the thought of my utter solitude - I am completely alone. When was the last time I've laid eyes on another human? When was the last time I've even spoken?

At this, I'm shocked to realize I probably haven't spoken in months, asides from the usual grunts or sighs, which is hardly speaking at all. I'm forced to wonder if I'm even capable of speech anymore, if I've lost my voice from months of a lack of use. I part my dried lips, scared at what sound will come out.

"Hello." I whisper ever so lightly, relief flooding in me to hear that I can still talk. But my voice, it's damaged and raspy and sounds completely unhuman. I cough slightly, and repeat the soothing word again.

"Hello!" I say, and I sit waiting for a reply that will never come.

OOC: I can't get over how bad this is. D: This is my first time writing with him, so bare with me...

[sbeeg]

Clinton Moor

[/center]

Ah yes, the quiet solitude of an open forest without a single hoodlum to disrupt his journey. That is how Clinton Moor liked his adventures through the wilderness and he hoped that it would stay like this today. His short legs didn't carry him very far, but they took him as far as he wanted to go. He didn't need to reach a District by dusk, he didn't need to reach another person at all. That was Clinton's reason for choosing a life out among the trees and wild creatures- they weren't people. Yes, occasionally he'd find himself sharing a campfire with some twenty-something who ran away from somewhere and who wanted to change something. They didn't matter anyway. They were probably dead already.

Taking a break from his hike, Clinton sat on top of a rather large boulder, his walking stick across his lap. Taking in the plants and things around him, Clinton's eyes snagged on a small pool of water at his back. Spinning around he knelt beside it. Splashing a handful of the clear liquid on his face, he looked at his reflection in the pool. A wrinkled, angry looking man stared back at him. Ah, everything was just how he wanted it to be. He must have not shaven in a month and a full beard had grown on his chin making him look like some rugged mountain man, if it weren't for his height, that is.

Putting an end to his break, Clinton started off again, digging his short stick into the undergrowth to help move his weight forward. A stubby, calloused hand brushed away a limb that was sagging into Clinton's way. Most of the time he didn't have to do a whole lot of ducking, a plus side of his fun size. Slow casual steps eventually brought him into the small area where a shape was huddled against a tree.

"Aw shit," he muttered, throwing down his stick. Yet another young kid run off into the woods that's probably already dead from exhaustion or hunger. Quickly, Clinton's eyes looked over the motionless body. "I'm not dealing with a body." he told himself before snatching up his walking stick and waddling for the cover of trees. He was almost away- so close to a clean get away- when he heard a voice call out Hello?

Cursing again under his breath, Clinton turned back around figuring the kid had spotted him and that hobbling a little farther wasn't going to put much distance between him and the not-as-dead-as-he-first-thought kid. He stepped back through a thin curtain of leaves, looking at the kid with a face that said Well? I'm here, what the hell do you want?

He was young, as Clinton had thought he would be, skinny and... he didn't look like a runaway. Kids who run from home act like they have a little spark underneath them all the time. This kid looked like a candle that had long been blown out and covered in dust. A very small part of Clinton took pity on the kid, but the more active and authoritative part of him could only think "Oh God, damaged goods. Great."

[chelsey]

R A P H A E L D I C A S T I L L O

text -- CCBB99, characterdialogue -- 999966, otherdialogue -- CCBB88

[Switching to third person because I suck at first person it suits me better...]

The body that emerged from the foliage of the bushes made Raphael's stomach jump, and a frightened yelp echoed throughout the forest. It took him a moment or two to realize that the yelp came from him. The sudden surprise almost made him fall back from shock, but he prevented the mishap by sticking out one of his arms, but it still caused his legs to flail out into the air before crashing into the dead leaves. He raised a quick hand to his chest, feeling his pulse beat aggressively through wearied skin, as if begging to be freed from the rib cage that trapped it.

What the hell is that thing and where the hell did it come from?

Before he began tying ends together and assuming that the whatever it was was Big Foot, he decided to trust logic and observe the situation.

The first thing he noticed was the unnatural height of the stranger. . . or rather, the lack of it. It's just about as easy to come across a dwarf today as it is to come across a talking animal - almost impossible. This was the first Raphael had ever witnessed one. Why would someone like him even be out here? Well, I'll be damned.

Pushing this thought away, Raphael was left to realize that he was in the presence of another human. Maybe not the average size of one, and certainly not the most welcoming looking type - but a human all the same. He coolly digested this before wondering if he even remembered how to socialize. What do people say in situations like these? Then again, no wanderer has ever returned or lived to tell the story.

The seventeen year old hesitantly picked himself up off the ground and dusted off what was left of his jeans. Wait, why was he attempting to look presentable? Everyone out here was just the same as him, why even bother? The only action he deemed acceptable was to stick his two lanky hands into his pockets and just stare back at the snarky looking stranger.

Once again at a loss for words, he merely dug his right heel into the dirt and greeted the stranger with a, "Well, hi there."

[sbeeg]

Clinton Moor

[/center]

He yelled. The kid called out in the forest as if Clinton were a large, poisonous snake or something. I was at that moment that Clinton realized how long it had been since he had last interacted with someone. For those few months of solitude he had almost forgotten what people do when they see him- the staring, the gasps. Yet, every painful memory in his life came rushing back destroying weeks of quiet peaceful bliss. Clinton's fingers tightened around the shaft of his walking stick, gritting his teeth and trying to hold back his tongue from saying anything particularly nasty. Well, at least until the kid could find his wits. Always give them a chance to redeem themselves before you talk sense into them.

The boy only flailed around, making an awful racket before he finally got to his feet. The kid just looked at him for awhile and Clinton could not keep his eyes from narrowing at the boy. Finally the kid got out a "Well, hi there." It was milliseconds after the statement hit the air that Clinton already had his feelings on his lips.

"Listen kid, the woods is no place for someone like you- how about you drag your ass home or at least somewhere else where people might give a damn about you. 'Cause I don't give two shits whether you die today or tomorrow, it's only a matter of time. Probably today if you keep sleeping in the open like that," he started to turn away but then looked back, taking n the skinny teenager one more time before saying. "Go find some shelter kid, rain is coming any minute now."

As much as Clinton wanted to lay into the kid, he could not bring himself to completely abandon the boy. Damn his heart, it may be small but sure as hell ain't cold.

[chelsey]

R A P H A E L D I C A S T I L L O

text -- CCBB99, characterdialogue -- 999966, otherdialogue -- CCBB88

"Listen kid," He began in an irritated rush, but before Raphie could bear to listen to the rest of the man's speech, he stood baffled at that mere word - kid.

Kid?

Hell, Raphael was no kid. He was a goddamn adult. Sort of. At least, he knew he must've been around that age by now, right? As he tuned out the rest of the stranger's speech, he mentally counted his fingers in his mind. I was fifteen when I left... how long has it been since then? He furrowed his eyebrows in a confused state, his pupils focusing on a spot somewhere behind the stranger. More than a year. Probably two years, already. Two years since he left home. Two years since he ran away. Two years since his mom's been dead.

Awh, fuck.

No, Raphie would not force himself to think of his mother - to open up such a raw and infected wound - right in front of the first human contact he's had in months. What the hell was the point of that, anyway? She was gone. But, then again, so was he.

He tuned back right in time to hear the end of the man's speech, "Go find some shelter kid, rain is coming any minute now." Goddammit, he used the word kid again.

Raphael stared back up at the sky, as if first noticing how gray the day was, and how heavy the clouds hung above him. It wasn't as if he's never dealt with rain before in the woods - he's been out here for at least a year now. Then again, his wearied expressions and tattered clothes made it seem like he was on the verge of collapsing any minute now. Which he was. It took some time before Raphie could soak in the words that the stranger had said to him. He could recall something about dragging his ass back home, and not giving two shits if he died today or tomorrow. All he could think about these - otherwise insufferable - comments were how such a small man could be so feisty. Luckily, he stopped the words before they came out. He shoved his hands back into his pockets, when he felt the muscles at his lip twitch ever so slightly. The feeling was foreign to him, until he realized that he was, indeed, smiling. Yes, it might've passed off as more of a smirk than a smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. Funny, I thought I've forgotten how to do this by now.

"I'm not a kid." Was the first words that came out of his mouth. They sounded strangled, as if he was desperately trying to convince the stranger that he definitely was not a child. Oh, but it seemed to him that he needed to convince himself that first. "I'm not a kid, and I've been out here long enough to know how to take care of myself in the rain." Shit, do I sound mean. He bit the inside of his cheek when he immediately realized how harsh his words came out. No, I haven't forgotten how to smile. But I did forget how to be friendly. In an attempt to conceal the sudden burst, he pettily added, "But, thanks for the heads up."

Guess I forgot how to socialize, too.

[sbeeg]

Clinton Moor

[/center]

Not a kid? God, the boy was whining like a little girl! His back as to the stranger, and he couldn't bring his feet to turn him around. What good would it do to face him? All he would see is an attractive young man looking disgusted at Clinton's... condition. God, this was why he took to the woods in the first place- an endless expanse of nothing where he could tower over every blade of grass and never even realize he was different.

Why do kids have to screw up everything for him? They have to throw rocks at him and call him names. They just have to exist to remind him how horribly twisted and ugly he is. How he will never be normal.

Taking in a deep breath, Clinton tried to calm the emotions bubbling inside of him. He had never been good with people and now, after weeks of being alone, he was not prepared for this kind of anger.

"Then stop whining like one," he said over his shoulder. Leaning on his walking stick he contemplated an idea and finally deciding on it even though he'd probably regret it. "Follow me."

The words weren't a command, just a suggestion. He took a few steps forward, listening for the sound of heavy footsteps ruffling the leaves and grass.

OOC:I'm sorry for taking forever Dx

[chelsey]

R A P H A E L D I C A S T I L L O

text -- CCBB99, characterdialogue -- 999966, otherdialogue -- CCBB88

He hurt the guy.

Raphael could detect the wave of pain that suddenly gripped the stranger - could see it in the way he suddenly clenched his walking stick, in the way he heaved a huge sigh as if it hurt him to breathe, the way he piercingly shouted back at Raphael, "Then stop acting like one." A twinge of guilt coursed through the wanderer's veins, causing him to sigh on his own. He stuffed his hands back into his pockets and kicked a stray pebble to the side. He may not have as much social contact with people anymore, but he knew better than to act this way with strangers - even if they did meet in some place as pathetic as the woods.

After all, no one just runs into the woods for the heck of it. No one leaves their sheltered home for desire of damp dirt and isolated nights. No one abandons the ones they love for complete seclusion and solitude. The madness that drives them all out here binds all the runaways together - like a cord intertwining each and everyone of them - no matter what the differences in their personalities or reasons. If anything, they all share one thing - they are all broken beyond repair.

Raphael parted his lips to mutter the best apology he could muster up with at the moment, when the stranger spoke again, "Follow me."

The man walked ahead with or without Raphael, and, without his knowing, his feet carried him behind the stranger's trail. The shorter of the pair, however, walked presumably fast than the other - causing Raphie to wonder if it was due to his own weakness, or because the man was angry with him and wanted to spread the distance between them as much as possible? Hell, Raphael would be angry at himself, too.

He decided to go with the latter. "Look, I'm sorry. . . for the insincerity, I guess."

[sbeeg]

Clinton Moor

[/center]

The sound of another pair of feet behind him was all Clinton needed to keep walking forward. He didn't think over the invitation before offering it but now that it had been accepted Clinton wasn't sure what to do with the boy. However he looked kind of lost- he was sleeping out in the open by a tree of God's sake. It's a miracle Clinton didn't come across a corpse. With his face turned away Clinton was able to let his emotions cross his features- it was easier to think with everything exposed than it was trying to keep his lips from frowning and brow from furrowing.

The boy started to talk again, sputtering out an apology that seemed beyond his ability to put into words. As was often with Clinton, the dwarf cut him off.

"You have a name? Or should I just call you Boy?" his words weren't sharp, just a normal request put into Clinton's slightly more abrasive speech. He had to be abrasive, otherwise all the names would get to him. Over his shoulder, the dwarf muttered "I'm Clinton."

[chelsey]

R A P H A E L D I C A S T I L L O

text -- CCBB99, characterdialogue -- 999966, otherdialogue -- CCBB88

"You have a name? Or should I just call you Boy?"

Raphael stuck a hand in his ragged pocket, before lifting one up to rub the back of his neck. He laughed a little at the last statement, even despite having told the man that he was definitely not a kid, he still seemed to prefer to label him as one.

"I'm Clinton."

He nodded, even though Clinton couldn't even see him. The name seemed to fit the small, strange man. It oozed maturity and yet an aggressive nature, somehow all compacted into the body of a dwarf. Briefly, he wondered why a guy like Clinton was out here by himself in the woods? Running away from something, someone, a past? No one just proclaims a life of solitude for themselves out of the blue, everyone - even those who can't admit it - crave a home.

Realizing he still hadn't said his name, he told Clinton, "Raphael."

OOC: ugh I can't even -

[sbeeg]

Clinton Moor

[/center]

"Raphael?" the dwarf chuckled. Just a frilly name for a dainty looking boy. Oh, gone are the years of solid names. Clinton, now there's a name a boy can live up to and the man had tried, only his condition did not exactly permit much of "up." The wanderer used his staff to knock debris from his path. Random branches and other forest clutter. Not a "civilized" district for miles so, thankfully, no Panem garbage plugging up the wilderness.

Clinton's short legs carried him deeper into the woods while his mind nagged at details. How long has this kid been out in the wild? Does he have a single brain cell that knows a thing about being a wanderer? Is he a government spy out to take down the famed traveling dwarf? Okay, well the last one is just a fantasy but exactly what this kid was doing out in the middle of no where irked Clinton so much that finally he gave him to curiosity and asked the loaded question no wanderer should ever ask another.

"So, Raphael, what brings you out into the forbidden forest?" the dwarf had perfected his nonchalant attitude, even when he was dying to know what the kid would say.

OOC: Oh my Ripred am I sorry. I'm not even sure if this is even alive still. I've been so busy. I'm so sorry Dx