remembrance] periwesjr

[Wonder]

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∞

A chill stopped him from stepping into the graveyard as he approached the entrance.

Though he'd initially visited once already, the vast space only gave him an unwelcome feeling. An unfriendly spirit wafted through the area, hatred whispered secrets in his ear with each tired step he took towards the creaking gates. It had now been two very, very long years since Peri had journeyed to the pits of District Nine and the territory seemed to change as a whole. At the time of his first visit, there seemed to be a sheer feeling of hatred that grasped at his neck and choked him through every second - clearly people weren't pleased that he had caused the death of it's two representatives and yet Peri welcomed their feelings of pain and suffering. The Victory Tour hadn't been a celebration at all so much as a time to mourn the losses of all the tributes and friends he'd lost in that short time.

The blood brothers and sisters that had been gathered throughout the Games. They now lay in the ground, their rotting corpses deteriorated and wilted after all this time. While he lived, they decomposed. What a way to live his life. Walking, laughing, smiling while they rest in the ground. Their spirits lived on in the stars that Peri dedicated his life to, but it was one thing to cherish their memories and to stand next to them, touch them, hear their voices. His alliance was dead and yet he couldn't ever move on. Get out Little Boy, you are no longer welcome here, let him be in his time of rest.

Opal winning meant that Peri had the opportunity to travel alongside her and visit all the Districts. To think that Topaz hadn't had this opportunity in ten years was enough to make Peri crouch a little as he walked. This was probably the last time this would happen in a while, and it occurred so soon. Wes' grave was the first he even had the option to visit. Kiera's was easy to visit, it lay close to his house, and he made sure that no matter what it was well tended to. Every so often laying flowers alongside of it, knowing that if Kiera were there she would call him a pussy and he was completely fine with that thought, it was something that needed to be done. It was the only site that Peri could really take care of.

Many nights he worried at the state of the places Aria and Wes were buried. Whether of not they were lost among rows and rows of dead and useless people, just another name in a floury of death and turmoil. A name and a tombstone, weeds crumpling and growing across discarding what little information they handled. Visitors trampling above them, disturbing the eternal sleep that they lived in. There was nothing - nothing he could do, except keep living, keep on going or what was the point?

The gate opened with a rusted creak that sent more shivers down his spine, the entrance was as dead as it's residence. What seemed like an endless amounts of rows sat in front of him. Some large crypts, though mostly just small stones to commemorate a name. There wasn't much people could do here to respect. Just get on with it. It seemed like an hour before Peri even found Wes' tombstone, the stone half covered in new grass sprouting from the once fresh dirt. Wednesdae Drummond. The name carved gently and beautifully with the precision that Peri was sure Wes would have liked. How appropriate.

"Hey Wes," Peri crossed his legs and lowered himself carefully to the ground as to not make a sound. He was sure that there was some sort of mentor duty he was supposed to be doing, but nothing in him really particularly cared about it as a whole. "I think about you a lot. Most of the time, I just kind of assume you can hear me, you know, up in the stars. That's where I think you all went. That's where I assume at least. Remember, Aria told me I was a star, so I guess I wanted to be all like you guys." It was almost pathetic how Peri was acting, he was almost positive that Wes would have smacked him upside the head at this point with his sword, cussing and calling him a little bitch, but whatever. "Anyways, if you're wondering why the fuck I'm here - or well, I guess you already know, Opal won. I brought one home already. Nearly perfect. Fifty percent so far. Bet you couldn't have beat me there, no way no how." Peri chuckled to himself lightly. Tugging at his pocket, he pulled out an opal stone, similar to the one that he had carried into the arena himself that now clung to his neck. He had brought a few along with him on the journey just as a momento.

"I brought a couple of these along, it's like the one I have. You know, the opal. I figured I'd leave one here, just so, you'know, a piece of me is always here, in District Nine." He gestured around, despite being all by himself. "I don't really like it here. It's pretty.. shitty. No wonder you volunteered. You would have done a lot better in District One, trust me. It's not as bad there. Anyways, this one doesn't have any cracks or anything. It's pretty old two. Time, perfection - figured it'd be your kind of thing. Just a memory of me, or whatever. A nice gesture between brothers." Peri scooped up a bit of dirt, a handful at a time until he was wholly satisfied with how deep he'd dug, and threw the rock in, it would always be here now. The other one on his neck. One in Aria's grave, one in Kiera's and one in Atlas'. All the Argos interconnected amongst the stars, on the ground, and around Peri's neck. "It sucks without you guys here, you know. I keep trying to branch out, find some new people. But, I don't really like them as much. They don't post any challenge, don't fight back, don't try. Well, they do try that's the problem, they're all brown-nosers who just want some of this victorship."

"Fuck that Wes, I don't want this shit. I just want my friends." He could feel his throat burning up, and an anger sizzling at the bottom of his stomach. "I just want you guys fucking here, I need someone, I don't need the other victors, or my mother, or any of these shit people that keep coming at me. You would have handled this a lot better you little fucker, why couldn't you be perfect, why did you put the sword to your fucking throat? Fuck you, Wes." He screamed. "Fuck you!"

He missed them with every fibre of his being, but they were amongst the stars.

marking the territory of this newly impassioned soul
but you, you've gone too far this time
you have neither reason nor rhyme
with which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine

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∞

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credit to zoe, and lalia^

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[rook]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: 4A4F40; border: F5F6FA solid 4px; width: 500px; height: 181px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 0px 0px 13px 13px;][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true] wesley drummond god i'm scared to think back about everything that has come before me our time and future histories my, i've wondered this library for years now killing time, as time slowly kills me It's definitely him. The tidy hair, the Career figure, the look of longing and regret on his face. He's not skinny enough to be from District Nine. He's not poor enough to come from District Nine. He's probably desperate enough to belong in District Nine, though. Yeah, he's desperate all right. His District has just won the Games, again, and he's all the way out in the lower districts mourning someone he killed two years ago. Peridot Myler is a household name nowadays. It's up there with Topaz Ross and Julian Bryze. He's a Career victor. When people think of Peridot Myler they see a ruthless man who tore his way through the ancient labyrinth of an arena, slaying three headed dogs the size of lions and five headed serpents. They see the man who stood shin-deep in the flowing rivers of Styx, pools of blood all around him. They see a man who hunted down other children, commanded his allies and won with barely a scratch on his body. As I look at him now from across the graveyard, all I see is the boy who killed my brother. It's cold. Winter never seems to want to go away. The harsh winds make me wrap my coat tighter to my skin and tuck my hands under my armpits, but despite my best efforts I am still frozen to the bone. I thought that maybe seeing Peridot Myler would spark a raging fire from inside me, but it hasn't, and I'm still cold. A Victor is always hyped up to be more than they are. I knew from the off that Wednesdae was a much stronger spirit than Peridot, and is Wednesdae had won he wouldn't have been as hyped up as Peridot has been by the media. The Capitol love a Career victor, whereas someone from District Nine would be seen as a rebel without a cause. There's a reason Mace, Heron and co. aren't seen on the television as often. Without the cameras, the lights and the makeup, Peridot Myler is still just a kid. He's twenty years old and bigger than me, but he's still a kid. He doesn't have a glaive in his right hand or Aria Wolfe at his side. He doesn't have anything. I walk slowly behind him, pausing as he does and listening as he mutters apologies and prayers to the spot where my brother is buried. Six feet under, right where he belongs. I'm almost glad he didn't win. Wednesdae went insane at the first taste of power - I'd hate to think what he'd have been like with a crown on his head and the whole of District Nine at his ankles. I listen to Peridot's pleas and curses. He says how he doesn't want to be a Victor, he just wants his friends back. He wants Aria and Kiera, and to a certain extent he wants Wednesdae back too. Not Wednesdae towards the end of the Games, not that Wednesdae. No, he wants the old Wednesdae back. And so do I. He used to call me a snot-nosed little shit and punch me in the chest, but I always took it. I'd deliberately move his pencils so they weren't at right angles, sending him into an OCD fuelled fit of rage. It was a hate-hate relationship, but we were brothers and it was something I struggle to explain. Something. I don't know if Peridot has forgiven himself, or even if Peridot has forgiven Wednesdae, but the whole situation is clearly upsetting him. I sure as hell haven't forgiven my half-brother, but Myler seems the type who can't accept things as easily as me. I figure he's dead and he can never say sorry and so I can never forgive him. Peridot hangs out at graveyards and hopes hopes hopes someone will forgive him. Maybe that's supposed to be me. Yeah, that's likely, considering he put a sword through the throat of my own blood. We all have grudges in life and mine has always been Peridot Myler. I hated Wednesdae right to his rotten core, but it still grinds me up inside whenever I see replays of his throat splitting in two. Perfect Peridot and his desperate attempts to find ghosts. There are no second chances in this harsh world, and no one is ever going to forgive him. "Fuck you too." I say. but i know time is precious and time will forget us lyrics by tall ships - graphics by rook - template by kire

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[Wonder]

∞

♛ peridot myler; ♛

What had been the price of celebrity status? A few bits of blood on the end of the glaive. The rest of the tributes had done the rest of the work after all. Was he not just the scapegoat for the rest of them? The ones that weren't lucky enough to live past the long night-filled days that Peri combed the arena. Now the streets were full of recognition, every single place that he happened to grace with his presence was actually a visit, no longer just a walk. There was a certain image that had been cast on him, a large shadow along the side a skyscraper, reaching unimaginable heights and yet still darkened by perception. What made them even think that he was the man they believed him to be?

No killer deserved cheer and praise, yet that's all he ever experienced. Peridot Myler, shop owner, training score eleven, the first male district one winner in over ten years, three kills, defeated the numerous horrors (Scylla, Cerberus, Wes), brought a tribute home within two Games. So many labels were attached on to his name at this point, they were endless. A beast lay eternally within the abdomen of the victor, the fiery ghost of all sins that had been committed over the past few years. Media stalked him whenever he was in the Capitol, flash, flash; the headlines would repeat it the next day, 'Victor Says This Year Has The Best Ones Yet!" A picture of a scared mentor cowering as he left the building, trying to wander, find someplace to himself - yet attacked by a whole new life.

This was the way life was these days. Media attention, being constantly watched. Never ever leaving the arena. The arena lived within each victor that he met, one could see it upon meeting them. Mace's cold exterior, Julian's accelerated timing, Topaz searching for love. Peridot Myler lived within story books. His intestines were the river styx, twisting and coiled, dirty and flushed, full of spirits and the products of remorse. Eyes like statues, stunned looking upon the endless array of deaths that were witnessed before his own eyes, he could no longer say who he saw slaughtered, who he participated in killing. Tartarus where lay his heart, deep within a cave lie the heart of Peri. Whether or not it would ever be retrieved - he didn't know.

Had it only been a couple of years ago that Peri refused to drink alcohol, knocking it out of Dia's hand? Refused to smoke outside on the corners with a few low-life careers that thought that thought he was just a loser who they could string along. Refusal lived in the past. Peri had found himself now at the bottom of many champagne flutes in the Capitol, grown particularly fond of vodka, knew the names of a bartender or two. Lost his virginity at the end of a long night of boozing, and still sees that person on a semi-regular basis. Took a weed brownie with Lethe from District Five and plans on doing it again within the next couple of months. There had been such an utter change of character within him, everything changed so quickly all because of the Games.

Despite all the labels, you're still just a Little Boy, always have been, always will be. Remember that Peridot Myler.

The ground below him was frozen, the winter had begun to grasp on the lower district, but that was common among every place. Though district one wasn't so open in comparison, trees surrounded him, lots of them among the factory setting. It was the dull buildings that threw Peri off the most. What a common place to live in, so boring and lame, no wonder Wes wanted to get out of here. He thought he was a God among men, thought he was perfect, well anyone from a place like this might think they're more than worthy - it was what hell might look like. An endless array of simplicity and conformity. He'd seen it all, for sure. Perhaps not on such a spiritual level though, last time he was trying to make sure he didn't get his head chopped off. This time it was Opal in danger, not her mentor.

District Nine was home to his once brother, this was now a place of mourning, not a place of trying to survive. Whatever they did here was no longer the business of Peri, he was merely a distraction from the common day. With the last scoop of dirt, he covered the opal below him, ensuring no one would ever find it laying there. Upon the uttering of his last solemn words, fuck you Wes, fuck you - he shuddered. He shuddered and shook, he jumped as a voice behind him howled. "Fuck you too."

"W-W-Wes?" The word stammers out of his mouth before he can bite his tongue. Here he was in a graveyard, chasing memories of a hell that had brushed over him two years ago. There were many things Peri believed in, but ghosts weren't one. Tombstones didn't talk, and even the grave being disturbed slightly wasn't enough to wake the dead. Body shaking, he glared around, there was someone out there. Yet, he couldn't stop the shivering. Death gripped once again with his skeletal hands, cold and unyielding, it had been a while since he had felt the strong grasp of the dark man. He has here among the stones, he was in district nine, he was a man among the dead, here to take him away again. Remember Little Boy, you can only live for so long - he'll take you home eventually. Among the stars. "Oh." The boy stands directly behind me, cold and on the smaller side.

"Who are you?" Blushing starts immediately, a redness to the face. It was embarrassing to stand there and know someone listened to his pleas. Without a care in the world it seemed, the kid was standing tall, dark eyes, a harshness to his face - Peri had once been so mean and crude. There was plenty of time to be awful, but the world was better off without it. The air to the kid was very familiar, like Wes. It was impossible for any sort of reincarnation, it was unlikely that Wes stood in front of him, and yet - the kid was there, the same look as Wes. Much smaller, of course. Did Wes have a brother? Peri didn't even know - what kind of friend was that? Was Wes ever truly his friend, or just an acquaintance? Peri knew nothing of his family, or his home life. Just merely that he lived here. "I - uh, I'm Peri, sure you've heard of me, or something. Won the Games once. Couple years ago, yeh."

What qualified a friendship? Perhaps he had never had a friend at all. Just a series of lessons in life.

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ooc: this is a little all over the place, i'm sorry
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[rook]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: 4A4F40; border: F5F6FA solid 4px; width: 500px; height: 181px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 0px 0px 13px 13px;][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true] wesley drummond god i'm scared to think back about everything that has come before me our time and future histories my, i've wondered this library for years now killing time, as time slowly kills me I used to scream in my sleep. I used to be so afraid that I would be Reaped, that I would be sucked into the hell that Wednesdae was. In my dreams Peridot Myler used to kill me, as he killed my half-brother. I'd wake in a cold sweat, sometimes crying. I was never afraid of Peridot - even now, face-to-face with him, I am calm. I think I was just scared of going through what he went through. I know that Wednesdae wasn't ever really afraid whilst he was in the Games, but he should have been. The things he saw, the things he went through. They terrified me. They still do. He wasn't brave, my brother. He was mentally ill. He wasn't scared because he didn't see the danger. He was driven by his own ideas of perfection. It was madness. A madness I'll never understand. We are like ghosts, him and I. The cold winter snows mask us, giving us a pale look. He is a ghost of who he used to be - a boy determined to stay alive so that he could get home. I am a ghost of my brother - everyone sees Wednesdae in me. It's apt that we're in a graveyard. I don't believe in the afterlife, or spirits, or anything like that. It's just stories they tell you as a kid to make you behave. Adults who make up ghost tales that they half-believe themselves, making myths and legends, scaring kids into obedience. When reality is as harsh on you as it has been for me, you don't really have time for stories. Peridot clearly visits sites such as this often, to talk to Wednesdae, or Aria, or whoever. He thinks that maybe they will forgive him, but they won't. They're dead, and he's alive. The dead don't forgive. I hate Peridot Myler, I hate Wednesdae Drummond. I hate Aria Wolfe and I hate Kiera Dempsey. It's weird, hating so many people in so many different ways. I could say that they're all different kinds of hate, but at the end of the day it all feels the same. It all makes me angry. I hate Peridot because I have to hate him - he killed my brother. I think my hate for Aria and Kiera are more to do with the influence they had on him, and how they affected his idea of perfection and murder. They made him go mad, in different ways. Then there's Wednesdae - I hated him before I knew the others existed. Him and his madness. Peridot's moment of confusion is amusing, but I don't smile. It's too cold to make the effort of moving my cheek muscles. How old is Peridot Myler now, really? He still looks like a boy. He still seems so young. They say that stress can age you beyond years, and he's definitely stressed. So why does he seem so young to me? I bite my lip as his confusion boils over into embarrassment, and he stammers out a few sentences. "I know who you are, Peri Myler," I smile, trying to be friendly, "I'm Wesley Drummond." I offer a handshake to the boy who killed my brother, and I'm not entirely sure why. As much as I hate Peridot, I still sort of respect him. I mean, he's been through hell, as much as Wednesdae did. My name warrants enough respect to him, too. If anything, he'll probably make the link (if he hasn't already), feel guilty and apologize. He'll shake my hand, as if that will magically make this all better. but i know time is precious and time will forget us lyrics by tall ships - graphics by rook - template by kire

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