slipping through our fingers // {re-opened}

[Raseri]

The sun hovered over the horizon almost drowsily, as if it were exhausted from shining on the world all day long. It had every right to be tired, really, considering how forcefully it had been bearing down on the District lately; the entire summer so far had been so hot that the citizens of District 4 were loathe even to set foot outside at midday. Every day, Stirling would wear her lightest shirts and her shortest shorts in the hopes that she might be spared from at least some of the intense heat, but her efforts were in vain. Even on the days when she didn't have Career training, Stir would return home in the evenings with her shirt saturated with sweat and her long, naturally wavy brown hair slicked flat and sticking to her back- a sensation that left her feeling smelly, sticky, utterly unattractive, and just plain gross. Only the cool ocean waters offered her the slightest comfort from the suffocating heat, and she often would steal away after her evening chores to go for a swim and watch the sun fade from the sky.

Sometimes she would bring her easel down to the beach when she came- Stir loved to paint the sunsets. She loved the feeling she got when her first dab of paint hit a fresh new canvas. But her parents hadn't been having much luck with fishing this summer, so they didn't have the money to replenish her paint supplies as often as usual. She still had enough blue and yellow, but she was out of tubes of red. Painting a sunset without the color red just didn't work, in her opinion. But that was okay- really, it had been too hot lately to paint anyway. Swimming was a much better idea in the blazing heat wave that seemed to be lingering over the district.

As she sat on the soft, warm sand in her blue bikini, Stir let her mind wander like she always did in the evenings. She thought about the day, mostly, but usually her train of thought was interrupted by little unrelated things that would spontaneously pop into her head. It had always been hard for her to focus on just one thing; Stir's hyperactive mind always seemed jam-packed with a million thoughts at once. It was something that helped her in Career training- she could focus on more that just one thing- but it hurt her at school and her spacey-ness annoyed her friends to no end. The group of girls she usually cohorted with would always try to tell her about things (the latest gossip, boys, etc.) only to find that she was usually daydreaming or staring off to oblivion, lost in thought and not listening to a word.

The soft white sand was warm in her hands as she scooped it up and let it fall slowly through her fingers, watching each grain blow away in the gentle ocean breeze. It reminded her a bit of her life at the moment; she was growing up quickly and soon, school would be over. She'd get married and have to move away from her parents and her loved ones. She'd have to get a job and make a living for herself. And some day, she'd have kids of her own. It was hard to imagine all that right now; it had always seemed like she would live forever. But recently, she had begun to realize- her childhood was slipping through her fingers, just like this sand. Before she knew it, she'd be an adult. Everything was flashing by too quickly...

Stir tried to push that thought out of her head; the sunset was too pretty tonight to be ruined by depressing thoughts. Standing up to get a better view, she walked over to the water, her bare feet shuffling through the sand until it became wet and squishy near the shoreline. Soon her feet were submerged, then her knees, then her hips. When the ocean first touched her stomach, the freezing water shocked her hot bare skin and she sucked in her belly instinctively, but after a few seconds she could bear it. Stirling stood there, enjoying the relief of the cool water after the day's suffocating heat. Sinking down in the waves until the water level was up to her shoulders, she closed her eyes and sighed. It was just what she needed after such a long day- training, grocery shopping, hauling in the heavy fishing nets on her parents' boat- it really made her muscles sore by the end of the day. The salt water seemed to relax her whole body, and soon she felt like she could just melt into the ocean.

Absentmindedly, she rubbed her left ankle where just a few weeks ago she had sprained it. During training, she had been tripped by a boy she had been fighting with. She still wasn't sure whether or not he had done it on purpose; at the time she had been too absorbed in the action to tell. But she did know that it had twisted in a direction that ankles didn't usually twist in, and it had made a popping noise that ankles didn't generally make. It was all healed up now (besides the little creaky feeling it had sometimes, like a rusty hinge) and it didn't hurt anymore, but Stir still found herself rubbing it from time to time, trying to rid herself of some ghostly ache.

The setting sun bathed the water in golden rays, and the waves sent the light rippling across its surface. The taste of salt lingered on her lips as it blew in the ocean breeze. She closed her eyes again, as if it would help to hold in this feeling longer. It would've been nice if she would never have to leave this spot; she would definitely give up both Career training and her mundane fishing routine to come here instead. This was so much better than fighting with a bunch of sweaty Careers or reeling in a heavy net full of fish. As seagulls circled in the sky, Stir listened to their calls echoing through the air. She envied their freedom- if only she could stay out here all day in the water, without a single care besides fishing for food. Stirling wished she could fly with them, and break away from her usual boring life (if you could call it a life) of training, fishing and school. If only she had wings... no one would be able to tell her where to be or what to do.

As she gazed out into the sunset, Stirling envisioned herself spreading wide, feathery wings and flying far, far away from Distsrict 4.


OOC: Feel free to join in, but I'd like it if you could write at least 450 words. I'm looking to develop my character, so I'm open to anything, really, rivalry, romance, friendships, etc.

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tags: open
word count: 1,121
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[Sharkbaithuhaha]

The day had been long, grueling and downright catastrophic. Khan had awoken as per usual to the faded sunlight trickling in through the window pane, its obnoxious behaviour setting a kaleidoscope colouration to pan across the room, streaks of light hanging from wall to wall with the hand-carved wooden beams becoming alight with a deep, golden glow. It hadn’t taken him long to adjust, a few moments to cleanse the sleep from his eyes and a few more to stretch the ache which had congregated in his muscles over night, their dire need to be exercised demanding imminent attention. Once bones had been popped and aches had been cracked he’d began to ready himself for the day, pausing briefly in-front of a smeared mirror to idly ruffle the mess perched upon his head, attempting to regain some element of style, and as messy as it was in the end it managed to construct a fairly appealing look. Splashing some refreshing water across his face and dressing in nothing more than a pair of shorts and a loose fitted shirt to appeal to the mercy of the sun and hide the scarred tissue which dwelled beneath from peering eyes, he’d began his morning routine. Climbing down the stairs with a lack of elegance and no recollection of grace he decided it better to ignore the deprived stare of his father which greeted him at the base, well aware that no vocal encouragement would be exchanged. Giving a fleeting nod and an indifferent glance he’d made a swift exit, winding through the corridor of his home, which did not disguise their wealth, to confront Adrianna in the kitchen. She, as per usual, had perched herself on a backwards facing chair, straddling it clumsily and was scoffing some green tinted bread that appeared to be fresh from the bakery. Without even the raise of her eyes she’d already located his stare and indicated his movements for before he could even reach outwards her arm had curled around the food and drawn it towards her chest with her response uttered through a mouthful of the warm loaf. ‘You know how it is Khany, you eat what you get for yourself. Now keep walking.’ It would have been hopeless to argue, he knew fine well it was a reaction she wanted, some conflict to start her day would be her ideal morning, but it wasn’t his idea of entertainment, so with nothing but a stifled, dry humourless laugh he turned, hungry and irritated, towards the door.

It had only taken a few moments after his exit for the sound of following footfalls to register and the dust coated trail to produce another set of solemn tracks atop the upturned earth. ‘You’re lucky I even let you walk with me.’ The tone of his voice like his current expression was passive, a rich grumble seemed to ring in the undertones a certain dark debonair quality commanding authority without the intention of doing so, the voice of which was soon over-shadowed by the sharp scalding stab of his sisters. ‘Like you’ve got anyone else.’ Eying the sneer now embedded upon her lips, that single dimple and estranged glow of sickly sweet satisfaction radiating from her provoking stare left no mistake that she was taking yet another innuendo disguised blow at Annalise’s death, no, Annalise’s murder. It was silence for the rest of the walk, the air seemed heavier between them than the sun itself created, yet they remained side-by-side, not exchanging a single word, sentence or glance to those ‘inferior’ beings who happened to appear on the same trail towards the school. That was of course until a familiar male appeared from behind the obscurity of a half-disfigured tree which tilted quaintly to one side and lacked in the greenery which clung fruitfully to the others. It didn’t take long to identify which of the figures had stolen her focus, a career Adrianna had taken interest in, or it’d be more accurate to say he was a career she wished to leech onto, learn every tactic in his training and then leave high and dry for the next trainee she deemed fit to stab her claws into. ‘Don’t wait up Khan.’ Without a sidelong glance or that infamous smirk she seemed to fade into the clouded dirt kicked up on the track, her voice however still audible as she greeted the others with false enthusiasm, there was nothing Khan would delight in more than bettering himself but right now the idea of interacting with his sister’s self-proclaimed man was not short of sickening.

The day seemed endless, hour after hour, pointless conversations battering back and fourth like some waging war in which he held no interest. People exchanging stories that neither partner cared about, that none would remember, it was an air of constant arrogance, or that was how he viewed the mass that gathered within the school gates. He spent lunch blending in with the other careers, perched on the edge of the table with a constant look of disinterest and distaste scorched across his face, ignoring the questions that some asked of him, he was after all well aware his sister would keenly answer them for him and no one would be interested enough to push for a response he didn’t feel like sharing. The second half of the day was just as long, they were excused for training while others were excused to return to working, for many had been assisting their parents in their personal traits before they were even learning to walk. Khan naturally paired with Adrianna who later detached herself to spar with another leaving Khan to take out his aggression on a boy whose name he didn’t know and didn’t care to uncover. His mind was elsewhere, drifting to the reaping, it was coming soon, he didn’t expect to be drawn, perhaps it was cockiness but he was almost certain that it wouldn’t be him. But his mind was still influenced to daydream, fade into the year he’d volunteer and as he became lost for no more than a few seconds in this mirage the sharp sting of a spear’s head just catching his right bicep brought him crashing back to reality with an audible ‘Argg.’ ‘That’s what you get, now wake the hell up.’ It took only a few seconds to realise the blow hadn’t come from his opponent and a few more to catch the glimpse of red wetting Adrianna’s spear’s tip. He could never decide if she did it for his benefit or because she enjoyed being the reason for another’s pain, most likely it was both. The tail end of the afternoon dragged, even when the sun was not at its highest the heat was suffocating and the sky, being cloudless, offered no protection and instead exploited the people of district 4 like ants to a magnifying glass. Once training was concluded and the others appeared to be leaving to either train in more private locations or return to aiding in the family business or other such chores, Khan decided to sneak away from the unobservant crowd and make his way towards the beach.

It was a welcome sight, the sun just beginning to dip, the sky alight with the fury of enraged colours, the volcanic stream of invigorating red which rolled into an array of inflamed oranges and lazy pinks intertwined with strips of gold and blurry blues ranging from the lightest streak to the darkest gorge was captivating, no one could truly dismiss such a sight and the way it cast its charade upon the water and brought a thousand stars to fall from the sky and swim upon the waves could leave anyone breathless. Khan, without hesitation, intruded upon the sand, the spot being one of many he visited, he wasn’t one for over-doing a single space, he liked to feel free and finding new parts of the same stretch of beach provided a sense of the freedom he’d never tasted, a freedom he wasn’t even sure he wanted. His first action was to remove the sweat stained shirt from his upper torso, freeing the range of scars, some a sickening pink some an ancient white, to the atmosphere, embracing the relief that came from the lack of fabric, the second was to head towards the sea, walking like a phantom upon the shore, so engrossed in his thoughtlessness that he hadn’t yet noticed the girl within the waves.

[Raseri]

Stirling didn't notice the boy near the shore until the sun had nearly disappeared behind the sea, its bright red and yellow rays darkening into deep shades of orange and eggplant purple as a few of the brighter stars began to peep through the dark curtain of the sky. If she hadn't been so tired, maybe she would've stayed in the water longer- but Stirling had a problem with falling asleep when she was relaxed, and the waves seemed persistent to make her do so as they rocked her back and forth with the current, letting the warm arms of slumber wrap around her while the seagulls sang their lullabies. To prevent herself from succumbing to the intoxicating temptation of sleep and drifting off into the sea, Stirling turned around and started back towards the sand- when she saw him.

Standing near the shore in the shallows was a rather tall lad, staring indolently out into the sunset. Sitting lazily atop his head, his messy hair was the color of night, contrasting boldly with bronze skin that seemed to glow in the fiery rays cast by the setting sun. Even though she didn't know him, she felt herself walking towards the boy automatically, her legs pushing slowly through the resisting current- maybe it was because she was lonely, or perhaps she was just plain curious. As his features became more distinct, Stirling could tell that his bare upper torso was carved and muscular, a type of figure that she'd quickly become familiar with and accustomed to in her seven or so years as a career. Even though he didn't seem so different from the other careers at first, as she approached him she began to think otherwise.

The blotches and stripes of pink and white were outlined strikingly against his tanned skin, and so numerous that Stirling had to swallow to keep from rudely gasping. She had been training for the games ever since she was nine, with actual weapons once she was older, but even she didn't have as many scars as the boy before her. Sure, there were a few marks, little pink ghosts of past cuts and scrapes and gashes, but most of her injuries had healed well enough that there weren't any more scars than the usual amount for careers. But this boy was covered, and it made Stirling grimace a bit just looking at him. Either he was a hard-core, super warrior career, or he had some kind of skin condition.

When she was standing within speaking distance of him, though, she had to admit- the amount of scars on his torso did nothing to mar the obvious beauty of his face. His defined cheekbones and strong jawline gave him slightly hard look, but then it was softened just right by the short black strands of hair framing his face. What Stirling thought his most handsome feature was, however, were his eyes. Even when the boy was gazing elsewhere, Stirling found his eyes strangely captivating, as if they were drawing her in towards him, and for a moment she forgot to greet the young man. It was strange how a person could look so frightening and yet so attractive at the same time.

"Hello," she said weakly with a shy voice that was nearly a whisper, tearing her eyes away from him and clearing her throat with a quiet "hrumph" as she attempted to start a conversation. She realized she had been staring, and Stirling tried to keep herself from looking at his scars. "The sunset's really pretty tonight, isn't it?" It wasn't much, but it was all that she could think of, as she had never been much of a conversation starter and usually left the task to someone else. As she waited for his reply, Stirling looked back at the sunset to rid herself of the temptation to glance at his scars again.

tags: sunset, water, stuff, closed
word count: 650
notes/other: Woo! A reply!

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[Sharkbaithuhaha]

Time had seemed to slip between his fingertips, before he knew it the sky was darkening and the overcast of blackness had begun to swallow the colours previously cast atop the overhead canvas, those condemning colours, the type that could draw you in until you were spellbound in a state of admiration were becoming absent and in their place the distant flickering of one star, then two and eventually hundreds more, all of them full of secrets and whispers they’d heard from softened voices and unheard prayers, all of them equally flamboyant as they danced upon their stage and winked effortlessly to one another in a knowing manner. Khan often wondered what stories they’d heard and sights they’d seen, how many breathless whispers filled with one last hope they’d looked upon, how many affairs and scandalous events with daring damsels and monstrous villains they’d watched in awe or captivation, to be a star would truly be a fascinating thing.

Absorbed in these thoughts his keen senses had been considerably numbed, his hearing tuned to the waves and his eyes lost amongst the stars, he hadn’t noticed the girl at all until the odd sound of a disturbance in the water gripped him around the throat and tore him back to reality, throwing him from his wanderings and stranding him back upon the shore. At first he couldn’t make out the silhouette, he half expected it to be Adrianna, urg, that remained him of the dull pain in his arm, it was nothing but a scratch but he’d have to remember to put some ointment on it, it wouldn’t be worth risking infection. Then after a few moments where he stood with bated breath and eyed the shadowed figure with speculation, he came to realise that it was not his sister, nor anyone he was somewhat familiar with, the face was fresh, the eyes were new and her presence unfelt until now. Or was she? He’d seen her somewhere before, if only briefly, he didn’t forget a face, even if he made no effort to talk to people a lot of the time he still remembered them all, not names but faces, they were more important. It didn’t take long for his mind to indulge in some internal system, an analysis quickly taken in by a sweep of his striking gaze, it was obvious now he thought about it, now he’d looked properly, those curves and finely toned muscle lines, the confidence masked beneath those long, flickering charcoal lashes, she was like him, a district four career.

In complete silence he watched her approach, stalking every movement like the predator he was, those feral, primal instincts always at the forefront of his mind, there was no need for an attack but his body expected one and desired the confrontation. But his mind hushed it, demanding a more placid stance and docile expression, it could sense no threat from the other, in fact she seemed just as curious about him as he had been about her, but of course he’d caught her fleeting glances, the looks cast to the collection he wore engraved upon his skin, the mess his father had made of his body was vulgar, though he wore them like trophies, proof he’d overcome the worst and still stood, tall, proud and handsome even with the mild disfigurements. With blood now dried upon his arm and a brow arousing from its lowered state to arch expectantly, he waited until he was graced with the warmth of her voice, its melody crashing above the waves was a refreshing chorus, it was a struggle to answer though, he’d become so used to dismissing conversations in crowds that he’d forgotten how to have a one-to-one conversation with anyone who wasn’t his sister or some woman he’d decided to prey on in some meek, unfulfilling attempt to fill the void gorged in his heart.

Swallowing thickly he beckoned the words to form and in a rough, authority ridden tone he spoke however an undertone was obvious, a strip of softness in his voice that was buried under the rubble of more dominating decibels, a certain alluring quality like that of a siren’s song, dangerous but magnetic, ‘It’s as it is every-night, sometimes I doubt it’s real, just some illusion shone upon us to give us a misconstruction of hope.’ Pleasant wasn’t he, no, just bitter, bitter but poetic and clearly at war with his own mind. After several seconds of plunging his sights back into the depths of the ocean he withdrew them to transfix upon the girl, studying her quietly for a mere moment before his lips began to upturn, their transfigurement forging a half formed smile, its shape exploiting only half of the ivory whites concealed beneath the curl of his protective lips and he idly traced one of the older markings staining his chest with the tip of a careful finger, ‘You can ask you know, I’m not offended by these, not anymore.’

[Raseri]

The initial sound of the boy's voice was different than Stirling had originally expected, it was a bit rough like his appearance but not gruff or scratchy like that of some of the careers' vocal tones she had grown used to, instead it had sort of a heavy, smooth quality to it, not very loud in volume but with something that made Stirling want to listen, his poetic words rumbling and rolling out of his throat and hanging in the air for the girl to ponder. She saw what he meant by them- sometimes it seemed like they were trapped, living in an oversized fishbowl in a way, with no hope of getting out. Yes, she could see how he might think of the sunset as some artificiality placed there for the sole reason of teasing them and giving them false hopes and dreams that could never possibly come true, no matter how hard they tried. Stirling, however, preferred to look on the brighter side and make the best of the situation she was born into, deciding that since there was no way of amending her way of life she might as well do what she could to appreciate the more enjoyable aspects of it. The sunset, for example, was one of the few things she looked forward to and enjoyed during the day, especially on evenings like this when the light tossed its myriad hues upon the tides. Stir purposefully cast away any negative or questioning thoughts about it that may happen to subconsciously float into her mind, such as the boy's, for the sole reason that they might slowly ruin one of the few things that she held very dear.

At one point the boy shifted his gaze toward the water, and for some reason, even though she knew it was rude, something in the subconscious part of Stirling's mind thought this presented a good opportunity to gaze upon his scars. It wasn't even that she was disgusted by the ghastly appearance of the blemishes, it was just that they seemed to draw her attention, almost like a moth was drawn to a bright light. They were just so strange- not so much in the fact that they were there; scars were a perfectly normal sight in a career district like Four. But they were so numerous, spotting his upper torso all over like the stars that now showed in the dark sky. Looking at them made her wonder- where did they come from, and why where there so many? Did each blemish have a story, a tale to tell, every one different from the last? If only scars could talk... Stirling supposed each one would have a unique history, a story of skin being penetrated by a spear point, or slashed open with a sword, or even burned by some flame that decided to stray from a fire pit. She wanted to ask about them, to learn the origin of each mark, but any way she worded the question in her mind sounded insensitive- Stirling didn't usually have company when she came out here in the evenings and now that she did have a potential partner in sharing the sunset she didn't want to scare him away by offending him.

When the boy's gaze stole away from the dark, rolling waves of the ocean to rest upon her once again, Stirling was too wrapped up in her thoughts even to notice he had moved. Not until he began lightly tracing a blemish on his spotted chest did the girl realize he had been watching her as she stared, a sly, knowing half-smile playing at his lips, the corners of his mouth tilting upward ever so slightly to allow white teeth to peer out at her, not exactly judging but seeming slightly amused, as if Stirling were but a child caught sneaking extra cookies from the jar. Heat flooded to her cheeks until they looked like two ripe tomatoes, and her mouth opened to apologize, but she was cut off by the young man's voice:

"You can ask you know, I'm not offended by these, not anymore."

The leisurely manner in which these words were uttered made Stirling feel a bit better, but still fell short of completely wiping the embarrasment from her face- even though he seemed to be fine with the fact that she had been gawking at his scars, she was nonetheless ashamed that despite what her mother had always taught her about proper courtesy, she had been caught staring at someone. At least the boy didn't seem upset... Maybe she could ask about the stories of his scars and learn the mystery behind the enigmatic blemishes that seemed to attract her eyes so effectively.

The wind blew her hair ferociously around her face, prompting her to run a calloused hand through it in an attempt to tame her wild sienna locks as she tried to think of a way to word her question. Swallowing and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Stirling started to speak, trying to sound confident, but all she ended up with was, "How did this happen to you?" Her words came so softly they were almost whispered, failing her attempt at confidence- even though she was used to having regular conversations with girls her age, boys were a different story.

tags: sunset, water, stuff, closed
word count: 900
notes/other: scars, embarrassment, Stir, Khan

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[Sharkbaithuhaha]

Khan remained perfectly patient, his exterior exploiting the same qualities as marble in its saintly stillness while he eyed the women with obvious bewitchment. Without much effort he could see the words beckoning behind her lips only to be swallowed and reconsidered, how quaint it was to watch the red blossom on her cheeks like a kiss from two flames and flourish until two roses burned beneath the depths of her enchanting eyes. Khan couldn’t quite comprehend the embarrassment associated with questioning his minor deformities, though that was most likely due to his lack of current consideration for the feelings of others being quite opposed to offering any portion of empathy since the incident with Adrianna. Though he didn’t encourage the situation nor hurry it, he instead watched and waited, concentrating shamelessly on her lips as he anticipated their shapely pout to twist and produce the sentence he expected to grace the air with keen inquisition. It was slightly surprising when her tone proclaimed itself in the softest whisper, so gentle he was sure if the wind hadn’t politely carried it towards his ears to be received with gratitude that he might not have heard it at all.

How did this happen to him... Now wasn’t that quite the question, the answers could range on the broadest spectrum, so many different occasions, so many different memories sliced into his skin to accompany him throughout life. He could begin at the start, recalling the first strike subconsciously, he’d only been nine years old. The intoxicating thoughts caused his features to outwardly twist in distaste as he pondered the words his father had spoken when the first lashing had been delivered, that keen cruel crack from the whip which split the air and tore the skin, the wince in which he’d held back while he bit his tongue to silence to scream which didn’t dare liberate itself for fear of further discipline. The distant ring of his sister’s muffled gasp in clear distress at whatever sight the clash had left burning upon his back spun in the recess of his memory, he remembered the heat, it was like nothing he’d felt before, an intense burning which dove under the muscle and ligaments to strangle the bone while drenching the veins in a scorching, magmatic heat. The desire to permit the liquid that swelled and clouded blurred eyes had been almost impossible to refuse, it had taken all of his effort to bite back the wail and even more effort not to regurgitate his breakfast at the sight. It took several moments to mentally construct the expelled sentence and chew it behind closed lips, ‘Boy, you better not let me catch you slacking off again, you hear? You hear me dammit?’ His father’s tone was still haunting, still clear as it rang throughout his subconscious parading itself until its ugly head was reared in pride and slowly allowed to disperse into a departing whisper.

Shaking off the memory, the first of many in which he’d encountered and experienced, he reminded himself that he’d in-fact been questioned and he was staring blankly in silence rather than producing some sort of coherent response. Blinking back the haze which had veiled cloudless blues, Khan audibly coughed to clear his throat of the lump which had wedged itself tightly within his throat, smoothly sweeping past the brief moment of discomfort to regain that perfectly charming demeanor which gave no insight to the actual state of his broken mind and instead produced an almost believable persona of an uncaring, proud individual. Shame he wasn’t quite the actress his sister was, she deserved an award for the performances she could create. ‘You see, I can tell you’re like me, we’re both careers.’ He paused for a moment, making sure he caught the complete devotion of her eyes before continuing, ‘We train and we train some more. But you see, my training started when I was four years old, not with weapons, it was more psychological. You see, my father believed in negative reinforcement and at first it was mind-games... but when I got older I got better at them and that’s when he decided it was time to give us some.. how can I put this, motivation.’ The words whisked from his lips hesitantly, that last syllable dripping in bitterness as he mulled it over, leaving the sour taste to swell between his cheeks while he waited for the reaction to form in her face. But while he awaited such an instinctive response he’d already edged forwards, lifting his hand without caution to capture the curve of her wrist and in a perfect silence he lifted it effortlessly, if of course he was allowed to maintain the touch, with the hopes of drawing the slender length of her fingers towards the white gorge draped along the centre of his muscled back, the shape as athletic as he evidently was. Shooting a sideways glance across his shoulder towards the radiant shape of her face he continued lightly, his tone as steady as it had been earlier, regaining that sense of ease as he spoke; ‘This one was from a whip, they’re lethal when you know how to wield them right, hurt like a bitch.’ He couldn’t help but laugh, it was dry, humourless and somewhat disheartening as he considered the tragedy of his training but clearly sought no pity as he regained that smile which had previous sunk into his cheeks and flashed a brief viewing of those alluring whites once more. ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger though, that’s the rumour.’

[Raseri]

The boy was mute for so long that Stirling began to wonder if indeed he had heard the question, and she thought about repeating it- his eyes clouded over and he stared at nothing, as if he were somewhere else. Silence hung like a dense, heavy fog in the air, making the young Career more uncomfortable with each second that went by. Why wasn't he saying anything? Stir hoped she hadn't offended him with the question; even though the boy had said he was fine with her asking, her conscience still told her it hadn't been the polite thing to do. The salty breeze from the ocean blew furiously around them, but it did nothing to shift the thick, awkward curtain of quiet that seemed to drape ponderously over the surrounding air. Soon, however, a startling cough cut through the silence like a sword, and Stirling's chocolate eyes snapped up expectantly to meet the captivating blue ones of her suddenly audible companion.

You see, I can tell you're like me, we're both careers. The words came rolling out like before, naturally and smoothly, as if the extensive silence from a few moments ago had never happened. As he explained, Stirling listened to every vague detail, hanging on each word and trying to figure out what he meant. While he continued talking, Stirling became more appalled at what he was telling her: his father had begun training him from the age of four, and when he had grown out of the mind games, his father would beat him? It sounded terrible, but as she glanced at his scars again she realized that it would definitely explain why there were so many of them. But then how was he able to stand there so confidently, speaking about something so terrible and yet delivering it so comfortably?

She took a moment to admire his ability to totally mask his thoughts with his facial expressions- whatever he was thinking about inside, she couldn't see it showing on the outside. If only she could do that- everyone seemed to be able to tell what she was thinking just by glancing at her. Even though she didn't want to admit it, she was a boring, open book- one with a pretty cover but no secrets inside. In her opinion, people with more secrets were more interesting; there were more things to be discovered, more treasures waiting to be uncovered just beneath the surface. Life was a lot more engaging when surprises were involved.

Almost as if he had read her thoughts, the young man's hand shot out quickly and soundlessly, his rough fingers catching Stirling's wrist and pulling it lightly, coaxing her fingers to his carved and thickly muscled back. What she saw there was a particularly long, white scar running down the length of his back, one that she hadn't noticed before. Surrendering to her earlier urge to reach out and touch the strange markings etched upon the boy's body, Stirling let him lead her hand to the gorge on his back. Her eyebrows slanted upward, unable to hide the mixture of curiosity, pity, and horror she felt inside. Stir's slender fingers brushed lightly against the hot skin of his back, feeling the odd raised texture of the scar, like the ghost of a snake slithering down his spine. It made her shudder to think of what kind of person his father was- who in their right mind would do such a thing to any kid, let alone their own son?

"This one was from a whip, they're lethal when you know how to wield them right, hurt like a bitch." The boy's laugh was as humorless as his cough. Stirling had been cut with many weapons in her many years of training, arrows and spears and swords and knives of all kinds, but never had she felt the crack of a whip against her fair skin. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger though, that's the rumour," he said with a slight smile, again revealing none of his thoughts. It made Stirling wonder- did his father still train him like that, and if so, why didn't he do anything about it? Did it even phase him anymore? Her eyes, dark brown like her hair, met his when he glanced back at her, her gaze full of questions.

For a moment, she wasn't sure how to respond to him, but then she contradicted his statement. "I don't see how this could make you stronger," she answered slowly, her fingers lingering at the scar as she spoke, louder than before and with a bit more confidence. No, if it were she, Stirling would just become more afraid. "Why don't you stand up to him?" she inquired suddenly, the words popping into her head and out of her mouth before she could think about them or stop them. With his muscular build and the aura of confidence that floated in the air around him, he seemed like the type of person that could stand up to anyone.

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word count: 840
notes/other: Sorry about the lateness :)

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[Raseri]

((OOC: Um, I don't think that Khan is active anymore, but I'd still like to continue this thread so if anyone would like to join in as if Khan wasn't there then that would be cool. I've tried PMing him but he hasn't said anything back yet.))

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