The Forest Has Ears (Urgorn-Meghan-Gemini)

[urgorn]

ZARA NIIKHAVOD

BIO = www.hungergamesrpg.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=lowmidchar&thread=44399&page=1

Thinking
Narration
Speaking
Hearing

I banged through my front door and ran upstairs. This is what happens when school gets over for me. I bolt up to my room, grab my precious violin from under my bed, and run back outside. I could play in my room, but then my brother complains. He's 18, but instead of working at a lumber site, he sits in a little workroom beside our kitchen and makes things out of leather. It's a very strange thing occupation for some in 7. But he orders raw leather from the capitol, or sometimes from District 10, and tries to make a profit out of it by turning it into something nice, like boots or gloves. I'll admit he does good work, but also because of that, I can't play in my own house. But anyway, I like the outdoors, so when I run out of my door I tear straight in a random direction.

Finding my way home isn't hard - if I just climb a little ways up a tree, I can see the justice building in town, and from there our house isn't far. So besides a few cool areas I have memorized, I try to go somewhere totally different and random everyday to play my violin. It was so precious to me, and I couldn't stand to go a day without playing it. Music was what calmed me; what soothed me. There's a boy in school who has an old guitar, and people love it when we play together at school events, which are pretty rare.

I spotted a nice flat spot of ground beside a tree, where the grass wasn't growing as long as in most places, which usually make it a pain to sit on the ground. I flopped down, and leaned back against the tree, looking around. It was sort of a clearing, with a tiny little bare area with no trees and short grass, but you could still hear all the sounds of the forest, like the birds chirping and the light breeze blowing through the trees. I pulled my violin out of its case, and then my bow. Tweaking a few things, making sure it was all in order, I raised the bow and drew it down for the first note of the song I had in mind.

It was one of the first things that I learned, and one of my favorites. It had originated from some other land, far away from Panem, and made me think about that. Are there other countries and governments out there? Not just some other District, but an actual civilization living in freedom. When I finished the piece a lowered my bow and thought about it for a while.

[Meghan]

"I keep reading that I'm cold.
But I'm not, I'm shy.
And I play a lot of women of fire and sexuality like an animal -
so I'm cold on one side and fiery on the other."

[/i]

Dusty chairs scatter across the room as students grab their books and pull on their jackets. For a moment, and only a moment, the classroom turns into pure pandemonium as one eager student after another makes a beeline for the exit. After the dust clears, only one boy remains, staring absentmindedly out the window. Raegan Harold hadn't heard the bell ring, he hadn't paid attention to his classmates chaos, and he didn't hear his teacher speak his name over and over again. He only heard the chirping of the birds outside the window and only saw the afternoon sun illuminating the entice of the forest.

"Raegan!" Through the mist of his thoughts, a voice finally penetrates sharply. Raegan's eyes shoot forward and betray his surly demeanor with their outright display of surprise. His stunned expression quickly turns into one of disgust. A sneer plays across his freckles and he pulls out of his seat. "Sorry." He grunts before stalking out of the room.

"When I'm acting, I'm two beings. There's the one monitoring the distance between myself and the camera, making sure I hit my marks, and there is the one driven by this inner fire, this delicious fear."

As soon as the door of the school building shuts behind him, Raegan is running. Running towards the forest, and to one of his favorite clearings. He needs time to think before going off to a 6 hour shift in the lumbar yard. His thoughts are invading his mind once more. The world of humanity fades away and only the sunlight filters through the leafs of the forest. Before he reaches the familiar spot, however, a twinkling tune echoes through the trees. The boys heavy feet come to a halt, and his world halts with it. The melody washes over him and he takes a moment to appreciate its turning waves of sounds and dynamics. Then his common sense filters back through the daydream and he jolts.

A girl is playing violin at the foot of one of his favorite thinking trees. He doesn't recognize her, but she looks around his age. He flushes red for a second, afraid that she saw him lose his carefully constructed image for a moment. But no, she must be too lost in the music to see him. Raegan still has the opportunity to restore his facade yet.

"Time has no divisions to mark its passage, there is never a thunder-storm or blare of trumpets to announce the beginning of a new month or year. Even when a new century begins it is only we mortals who ring bells and fire off pistols."

"What do you think you're doing?" He asks gruffly and comes to stand before her. "Shouldn't a girl like you be at home playing with dolls or something?" He laughs coldly, and sits down across from the stranger. All he really wants to do his compliment her music and ask her what tune she was playing, how long she had known how to play, where she had gotten a violin, etc. But he didn't. He couldn't. He didn't want to be teased again. He needed to keep up his creation in order to protect himself. The world was violent, and only the toughest survived. Raegan had to be the strongest to succeed. Or in the very least, better than his stupid brothers. He had to be.

[/size][/blockquote]

Word Count: 595[/size]

[urgorn]

ZARA NIIKHAVOD

BIO = www.hungergamesrpg.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=lowmidchar&thread=44399&page=1

Thinking
Narration
Speaking
Hearing

"Maybe that's the reason the Panem has these fences in the first place. Maybe there's some other country that Panem despises, or perhaps they despise Panem. What if s-"...

My musings were cut short when I heard someone approaching slowly, obviously having heard my music. I turn to face a
slightly sweaty boy near my age, apparently having been running a slight distance.

"What do you think you're doing? Shouldn't a girl like you be at home playing with dolls or something?"

Well that was a bit rude, but I sort of expect boys to be like this. They all seem to either dislike me, or not even care either what it I do. But I always respond cheerfully, which usually makes them a bit confused. Fight fire with water, is the most logical thing to do after all. Besides, I could tell that this boy really appreciated music, something I had not seen in anyone else since my mother died.

"I'm sorry if my appreciation of a beautiful art form annoys you, after all, I am just a silly girl."

I said the last bit with a bit of playful sarcasm, trying to still stay "nice", if you could call it that. People usually either thought that music was a silly little thing, or else that I wasn't old enough to appreciate it. I was hoping that this guy could understand, or at least tolerate music, because I wasn't to take anymore crap from someone who thinks that women don't understand music.

He plopped down a few feet away from me, sitting in the open bit of the clearing, the afternoon sun beaming through the trees. He acted not exactly rude, or intolerant, but really just a little gruff and cold. However, in his eyes I could see that he wasn't stiff or grumpy. The music had either saddened him (perhaps the slow violin reminded him of some ill-fated day long ago) or else he really enjoyed it, because he seemed very comfortable and a little curious.

"But I decided to give my dolls a break for the day and play some music, since there's none to be heard anywhere around here. Do you enjoy music?"

[Unknown]

Aisha Brook

Speaking

Thinking

Expression

Actions

Body Of Writing

Others Speaking

------------------------------

When class was dismissed from school I waited for everyone else to go through the door before I left to avoid getting knocked over while getting my bag again. Once the ruckus outside had stopped and people had moved away from where my bag was kept I made my way outside and picked up my belongings. Before I left the school grounds she double cheeked that I had everything. Yes, I do.

As I walked the usual way home in the bright sunshine down the gravel path. I heard Music coming from the Clearing next to me. I looked up and tried to find the person who was playing the beautiful tune. I couldn't find who it was so I changed direction and headed in the the field, just as I reached the first tree the tune stopped suddenly and I heard voices. I couldn't quite make out what they were saying. As I progresses Foward I saw a girl with a violin and a boy sitting there in front of her. So that's who was making the music.

They are talking about something, I'm not quite sure what it is because I can barely makeover what they are saying. I walk forward and make myself known "That was beautiful!" I say to the girl who was playing the instrument."Can you play again?" I asked her."Yes, I can, Please have a seat." she replied to me. I sat down next to they boy and listened to her play the next song.

As I listened to her play I held on to every note that was played, Because it was rare to have people play music.  I felt the warm sunshine on my back, it was very comforting. For the first time in a very long time I felt safe, even with all the troubles and problems in the world.

When the song was over I look up at the sky, the sun was setting and the sky had turned a little orange. "I love sunsets." I say to the people around me.

------------------------------

(Sorry it's so short, I didn't know what to write....)

[Meghan]

“I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.”

[/i]

Isn't it funny how the littlest of white lies can spiral out of the liar's control? Even if one meant for their lie to be a cover up for one occasion and for one person, it can escalate immensely, even to the extent that it becomes one's new identity. Their mask of a lie moves forward as time goes on, twisting and turning around itself in a dance of secrets and untruths. At some moment in the lie's deception, it convinces its own teller of its legitimacy. Their body no longer becomes their own and they lose all their carefully constructed control and deliberation.

Soon the lie has a life of its own outside of its master. It travels freely from person to person and solidifies its identity. If one was to tell the truth during the height of this lie's power, they would be accused of falsehood and responded to accordingly. The lie would become the truth, and the truth would become the new lie. It it eerie how often this very thing often occurs in a small community. One would think they understand everything and everyone within their hometown, especially if they had grown up surrounded by that person's true reality. It's strange how often you forget who you are and accept your own deception.

“It is better to offer no excuse than a bad one.”

It seems that any one comment or any one thought can launch a plethora of ideas into Raegan's head. Minutes passed before he emerged into his surrounding reality again. The girl was still there, invading his spot, as if she had ownership over that tree. She had asked him something, but Raegan barely caught onto the last four words."Do you like music?" That was a trick question, if Raegan had ever heard one. Was she trying to peer into his very soul and steal all of his secrets? Did she want to prove him wrong of any sort of deception or trickery? He almost wanted to hit her for such a prying question, but he had been taught to not hit girls. They were 'fragile' or something like that. Bullcrap! If girls could survive, then win the Hunger Games, then they were definitely not the porcelain dolls so many people described them as.

Raegan turned towards the girl and discovered that she was not one, but two girls now. They both looked happy to be in his presence. Happy? They weren't allowed to be happy. Raegan had no use for happy girls. He was supposed to use them and leave them, or in the very least, convince them that if they didn't run, he would do just that. He needed to act quick if he was going to change their minds on his presence.

“She says he says, but she could be lying to me, and he could be lying to her, so I can’t believe her, even if I could believe her.
”

"Music? Music is for silly girls like you." That wasn't convincing at all, he just sounded like he wanted their compliance in believing his lies. "Where did you even get your stupid instrument in the first place? Did you steal it from the Capitol?" He sneered at her and turned to examine a small trail of passing red ants, who each had a leaf or a crumb carried on the top of their backs. It was very obviously gathering time, the little creatures were probably in a hurry to get to their queen. In all likelihood, they were terrified of the three humans sitting near them. Raegan only hoped the girls wouldn't see where he was looking, he didn't want any harm to befall the little insects. They were innocent in this world.

His eyes tore up and focused on the second girl. She mentioned the beauty of sunsets. How cliche. He loved sunsets, in all honesty. They were usually finishing around the first leg of his shift. The sun always had a new, creative way to illuminate the leaves within the forest where he so tirelessly toiled. The subtle oranges, reds, yellows, and the occasional pink highlighted the most glorious hour of his work. When the last rays finally faded, he would be surrounded only by the light of lanterns and the sounds of his fellow lumberjacks whistles. Chop. Chop. Chop. Another tree would fall, and he would tie it to a long cart to be whisked away to the wood shop. Chop. Chop. Chop. The next six hours would be overcome by the steady beat of an axe and the whoosh of a fallen tree. Every night would be the same, and only the sunset contrasted his job of monotony.

Raegan didn't say anything to the girls. He only laid down on his back and watched the sun play its usual games with the forest.

[/size][/blockquote]

Word Count: 818[/size]

[urgorn]

ZARA NIIKHAVOD

BIO = www.hungergamesrpg.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=lowmidchar&thread=44399&page=1

Thinking
Narration
Speaking
Hearing

"Music? Music is for silly girls like you. Where did you even get your stupid instrument in the first place? Did you steal it from the Capitol?"

Now the atmosphere of the conversation had gone from a jokingly rude to an unprovoked mean. What the hell was his problem? He was no different from any of the other men in the world. Bias, sexist, and quick to jump to conclusions.

"I didn't steal it, jackass, my father made it for me."

I had picked swearing calmly at this boy over yelling like a little girl at him, which is what I was about to do at first, until I controlled myself. Steal from the Capitol? How had he assumed that I could have even possibly been to the Capitol, or managed to obtain a violin from there!?

"How dare he assume that I stole this! Is that what he thinks of me? A filthy thief? Well I don't think any better of him!"

The girl who had sat down beside me wished to hear more, but I was too angry to play again. This time it would not calm my anger, or drown out my harsh feelings. Besides, the newcomer seemed too caught up in the beauty of the sun and the trees.

[Meghan]

Raegan Harold; District 7

+BIOGRAPHY+
+ PLOT WITH ME +[/font][/color][/center]

Cold on the inside
In phases my lights die
Staring through ardent eyes
I love you, but I lied
Cold on the inside
In faces a smile dies
Staring through ardent eyes
I loathe you, but I lied

"You're weak, boy. You've always been weak." The truth echoed in the lies Nolan always told him before he went to bed. "You are never going to amount to anything. You're never going to be anything but a wimp . You will always be a little girl in my mind, Rae. You're nothing like your brothers."

[/color] [/b]Nothing like his brothers. No similar traits at all. He was the weakling, the coward,[/i] the girl. He would never amount to more than that third child, more than the weakling, more than who he really was. Nolan made sure to remind him of that, to remind him of his fate in this cruel world. For the rest of his life, these words would haunt him. Remind him of who he was and what he failed to become. The underdog, the failure, the third. Anything he would ever accomplish would never be enough. Not enough to surpass the perfection that was Findlay and Neil. Raegan could only pretend. His flaws would become non-existent, he would become them, their identity, their creation. He was them. Their identity. Their creation. His body was no longer his own. His body was enslaved to theirs. He was gone to their lies and so thoroughly convinced of his own wrongdoing. If only he understood his escape, if only he understood his fate. If only he could break free and fly, but he would always be under their chains, under their control.[/color] "I own you, Raegan Harold. You are who I tell you to be, you are who I want you to be. You are mine."[/i]

[/size][/justify][/blockquote][/center]

All the pain and the way it was
All of the shame and the hate,
because I was in love with the way it was
All that I do I do for you
If you're not breathing Why am I?
left alone in this shit. If you're not
breathing Why am I left alone?

"Victim: a person who is deceived or cheated, as by his or her own emotions or ignorance, by the dishonesty of others, or by some impersonal agency." When Raegan was little he liked to take walks. Much like today, he would wander through the forest that was District Seven for hours at a time. When he would arrive home, he would always be covered in sweat and dirt and charcoal. That was the difference between the Raegan Harold of then and the Raegan Harold today. Charcoal and paper, visions and imagination. The sweet things that he would give to his mother would always cause his father to lash out, to yell, to promise him that he would "never amount to anything". Then the fire came. Raegan came home from school one day only to see all his artwork, his creation, his beauty torn apart and thrown into the fire. "It's for your own good, you know." For whose own good? Raegan's? Destroying his identity was for his own good? But Raegan would never tell himself this. In his world, this would never happen. His father was kind, his father just wanted to raise a boy with a good head on his shoulders. Raegan would rise up above his brothers and become their leader. Too late, he was already gone. Too late, he was already enslaved.

And I don't feel the need to go on
I was happier singing along the way
I had things, I need to say
But now it's like a swallowed tape
That holds up my face from inside
As everything just falls apart
'Cause everything just fell apart for me

Guilt washed over soul, guilt washed away again. Guilt came in the dark, guilt destroyed at light. Guilt was the color of his choices, the paint on the walls of his mind, and the reward for a job well done. Guilt turned over in Raegan's stomach and he felt like he was going to be sick. Is this what he had become? Who was this monster sitting in front of these girls, lying to them about his own nature? When did he allow himself to fall this deep into the pits of his father's hell? All he wanted to do was to shout his apologies, to scream of his victimization and tell the girl that he didn't want to hurt her. But that wasn't his role to play, that wasn't the mask he wore. He was an asshole, he was a womanizer, and he was lost. Raegan Harold did not possess the strength to talk to this girl. Not like this, not right now, not with the web of lies that had spun around his very life.

He sat up, and looked into her eyes for the briefest of moments. Could she see his heart? Could she feel his pain and hear his thoughts? Did his lies wash over her like they washed over him? He wondered if she knew him in a past life. No, that wouldn't make any sense. She clearly had no idea of who he was, who he had been. She only saw who he had become, and he regretted it. If he had the words to speak he would say, "I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you. Of course you didn't steal it. You would never be in the Capitol in the first place, you're innocent. Your music is very beautiful, as are you. You would never do anything to hurt me, so why should I hurt you?" But he would never say these things. He didn't know how. He only knew how to throw his fear into his eyes, his hurt, and hope for the best, for her to understand him. Could she see his heart? He didn't know. He wished she could.

He was going to be late to work if he stayed here for much longer. Somehow they had been there until sunset, and beyond. His shift weighed heavily on the forefront of his mind. The chopping, the tying, the work that he did every night. Mindless. He didn't know what to do, what to say to escape this. So he stayed silent, waiting for the girl to say anything.

I asked it where it had been
Then we started arguing
I'm just like the other ones
But I don't believe you think I'm dumb

-The lyrics from this post were shamelessly stolen from the band Hurt-

[/color][/center]

Word Count: 1068

[urgorn]

ZARA NIIKHAVOD

BIO = www.hungergamesrpg.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=lowmidchar&thread=44399&page=1

Thinking
Narration
Speaking
Hearing

He stayed silent; maybe he was at a loss for words. Perhaps it was me who was being rude here. But he gave me a look - a brief glance, really - for only a moment. Had I offended him? He certainly didn't sound like the kind to be offended easily, but once again, I didn't exactly know know this boy. Either way, he shot a quick glance into my eyes, and I was unable to determine what it meant exactly.
"Um....sorry, that was a little rude of me. But I didn't steal it."

I hadn't realized how dark it had gotten. I could barely see my strings; there were no frets on a violin to determine where you were supposed to put your fingers, it was all played by ear and memorization. Anyway, I had played enough for today (my brother won't let me play in the house anyway), so I pulled my case up to me and set my instrument and bow inside, then snapping the lid shut.

"Well, um, I better go, I can't miss supper. Um, I'll be back here after school tomorrow, if you want to come back."

Why would he want to come back and listen to my 'silly' music? Oh well, maybe he didn't mean to put it the way he did. Either way, I figured that he'd come back; it was indeed an interesting conversation. I stood, picked up my case, and gave him a quick wave goodbye and headed off. I didn't even need to climb a tree to know where I was, I hadn't wandered very far away, and could already see the Justice Building.

"I wonder if that guy will really come tomorrow...I wonder if he'll apologize, or if he'll expect me to....I wonder what's for supper tonight.........................