when two {worlds} collide--Chime

[k!ah]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; padding-left:10px; padding-right:10px; background-color: E3DF8F; border: 322836 solid 4px; width: 500px; height: 181px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 50px 50px 50px 50px;][atrb=width,300] ::Distrcit 4::Male:: The bottle in my hand felt foreign but so right at the same time, it felt as though it was wrong, wrong that this bottle was in my hand, after so many years of avoiding it. I ran my long fingers along the outside of the cool glass bottle sending shivers through my skin. The glass was translucent and my eyes searched the tinted liquid inside watching as I slushed it around a couple times. Pulling the bottle to my lips I tipped it so that the fiery liquid that was held inside the glossy bottle slid into my mouth, then down my throat, a burning sensation filling my mouth, as the liquid travelled down my throat leaving a fiery trail. Tugging the bottle away from my mouth, a twisted satisfied smile formed on my lips. Not often did I result to drinking, preferring to let my feeling out in other ways, but today, today I had just snapped. Think about a glass of gas, a flammable gas in an enclosed container. That gas had nowhere to escape, it was trapped in that small container growing more eager to leave each passing moment, but it waited, waited patiently for something, whether it be a small spark, to ignite it an let it free. It waited for anything that would give it a chance to be west free. So how does this relate to me? Well think of me as that patient bottle of gas, waiting for that small comment, or thing that would set me a light, which would make me explode. Well today someone had been so kind to light up a spark that was big enough to be a flame and release it into my gas bottle, making me explode, explode into tiny little piece. I had been broken. I had snapped, that gas that had been waiting so patiently had run out of patience, it had broken free, only to found its self, scattered all over the place, lost, scared. Broken. Gingerly I placed the bottle to my lips again, the fiery liquid sliding easier over my burning throat, I cringe slightly, then relaxing my face I let the heat of the drink surge through my body, filling me with a strange warmth that I welcomed. The warmth made my body feel like it was beside a fireplace and memories of when I was younger began to flow through my mind. I remember the time when I was about seven; my parents were sitting side by side on the couch, their arms and legs grazed lightly, their fingers locked together. They were looking into each other eyes and the love that flowed through them was so obvious, I had looked away a smile playing on my lips, I had always enjoyed seeing them together, I had enjoyed seeing the look of love and admiration they showed to each other when they were together. It made me happy, it made me happy to think that we would be happy, together, forever… No. No we were never going to be together forever. We were never going to be that happy family I had always dreamed of. All that time I had thought we would be happy, that we would be together, I had been lying to myself. I should have known better. It should have been obvious. No one ever gets that happy ever after. But they could have tried harder, I thought harshly to myself silently, the thought racing through my mind… They could have made it work. But they didn’t. They left me. They left me alone and hurt. They were gone. Pushing the thought of my parents out of my mind I roughly pulled the bottle to my lips tipping the rest of the liquid into my mouth, not caring as the fire raged down my throat. Pulling the bottle away from my mouth a tossed it over my shoulder and reached for another bottle, the glass that slide into my hand felt good, almost comforting in a way, and without a pause I pull the cap off the bottle and poured the liquid ire into my mouth. I drank until I could drink no more, pulling the bottle away from my mouth I dragging the back of my hand across my lips, rubbing away the last of the clinging drops of fire. Pulling myself to my feet, I stumbled to the old door of my house. The world seemed to slant as I made my way to my feet, threating to make me tumble to the ground. No way was I going to let the slanting earth make me fall, I fell for no one. Finally I reached the door, my hand fumbling with the cool metal of the door handle. Tugging the door open I entered the flowing crowd if District four. I didn’t know where I was going, so slowly I let the shoving crowd lead me down the street to where a bunch of people stood, gathered around the pole that symbolised fear for the people of the district. Suddenly I felt as though the drinks that I had downed had no effect on me as my eyes came to a stop on a girl who crouched in front of the pole, her hands tied above her head. A man stood nearby, his robes that flowed from him like stiff cardboard identified him as one of the many Peacekeepers of our home. He stood above her, a whip in hand. His face was neutral as he turned to face the gathering crowd. Tucking his hands behind his back, he let a twisted smile formed on his deathly white lips. “Ahh, welcome all, young and old, men and woman.” He said in a dull voice that cut through the air like a knife. He had blonde hair which he had tied back into a pony tail, not a hair out of place. The smile that he wore was grim with satisfaction. I felt something cold move through me, the previous warmth that had filled me vanishing immediately. “I’m glad so many of you could make it. It always send a shiver of pleasure through me when I see that face of District Four gather to see one of their own punished for their crimes.” I felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice over me, as my eyes l shifted from the Peacekeeper and to the girl crouched. Defeated, as she prepared herself for what is to come next…

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[Ivana Vox [Chime]]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: ffffff; border-left:0px solid #000000; border-right:0px solid #000000; border-top:0px solid #ffffff; border-bottom: 0px solid #db7093; width: 500px; padding: 0 0 0 0px;] I'm going crazy 'Cause there's things in the streets I don't believe So we'll pretend it's alright and stay in for the night Oh what a world I'll keep you safe here with me The ocean is a lovely thing. It whispers and calls and coos, it's been my lullaby since the day I was born and it will be until the day I die. I can feel the tides as they push and pull at my heart, at every fibre of my being. It's a harsh mistress, a hungry beast when it's been starved, but it's still just the same as the very pulse that thrums against my chest. It's dangerous and reckless, unpredictable and unforgiving, but it's a beast that can't be tamed and that's all that you should ever expect from it. I've loved it every day of my life, but it terrifies me as well. That's why I've always told my stories sitting on craggy rocks and cliffs on the beach, my toes skimming the waves as my feet kick and my hair floats around my shoulders, picked up by the salty winds that turn my cheeks soft tones of pink. There's a girl by my side, and I know I should remember her name, but it's become lost to me. Someday it will come up in a story that I tell the ocean, and maybe it'll become so enraptured that it hunts her down and accepts her as one of her own, but today she's safe. Today the ocean is satisfied to watch and listen, and I'm glad. "Then the little boy followed the creatures to the very edge of the world, far, far away from Panem, from everything hat could hurt him, and these creatures weren't muttations, they were his very own guardians, bringing him closer and closer to something beautiful..." I could see it in my mind's eye, a world where the colours were richer and the sea was always contempt, where the winds breathed over sails without yelling and pushing them stern-over-bow to swallow them whole. A paradise where fish swam in rainbow schools so thick that you could dip your hand into a tide pool and come up with a whole writhing mess, enough to never be hungry again. Somewhere fairy tales were real and nursery rhymes always ended in happily ever after. Somewhere not here, where I felt the Peacekeeper's sour words wrap themselves from the back of my neck to around my throat and steal the breath from my lungs before I ever heard his steps, his cheeks scratching against my back with whiskers that had been unshaven for two or three days. His breath smelled of the honey cakes that I saw in shining windows but never tasted myself. "Do you know what the punishment is for spreading lies?" I wanted to tell him that they weren't lies, that I could see it too clearly, that it must have happened, but I could feel shadows pressing against my chest and curling over my lips, my skin prickling with their cold, damp silhouettes. If I opened my mouth they'd crawl inside and steal my heart and break my ribs, so I let myself be taken away and pitied the little girl at my side who would never hear her happy ending. "Coward," the shadows said in their eery language, something akin to a breeze as it rustled through a rosebush and stirred the thorns, curling tighter around my wrists. Or maybe that was his hand, his fingers overlapping around the fine bones that made up my arms, tapered into my pale hands. My fingertips felt as cold as ice."Go away," I pleaded through clenched teeth. All I got in return was the Peacekeeper's rough laughter and another sharp tug in his direction, even though I already didn't have enough room to move one foot in front of the other. I knew the process by now. I knew where I'd be led (to the heart of District Four, where all the ghosts of the ocean swirled within the living in the market, wearing their grim smiles) and I knew where I'd be pushed (in front of the wooden whipping post, where rough hands would make the parched ground meet my knees, everyone around me turning into giants with their heads up in the clouds) and I knew which Peacekeepers would watch and smile and which would keep staring on as if I was nothing at all. I don't know if it's the shadows stringing my arms up and becoming my puppet master or if those are human hands, and I can't tell the difference between the murmurs of the crowd and the phantoms that only show themselves to me. I just knew to kept my head down, to stay focussed on how my frothy, pale blue skirts circled my wireframed body, on how my blonde hair turned mousy-brown at the tips as it rubbed against the dirt. "...Punished for their crimes." That was definitely him, the man who dragged me here, who worked with the monsters that followed me around and folded around me when I went to sleep, braided themselves into my hair and curled into the spaces hollowed out by my bones. I didn't do anything wrong. I knew it, but no one else would hear it, and I still couldn't speak or they'd climb inside and I'd never be able to get them out. I knew what would come next. They even warned me, told me it was coming as I heard the whistling leather as it arched in the air, the sharp crack as it broke against my back. He hadn't given a specific number, so I bit my lip hard enough to taste copper and closed my eyes, the shadows brushing their fingers across my cheeks and soothing me, telling me it would be over soon. Maybe they were right, but I've known them to lie when it suits them. Maybe he'll keep hitting me, over and over until his arm is too sore to do it anymore. Another crack, this time over the other side. I can feel tears sting my eyes but it's not as bad as the sharp criss-crosses of pain shooting down my spine as my skin breaks. My dress has a circular cutout in the back, fastened with a tiny button and couple of scraps of fabric. The thin fabric offers no protection from his cruelty. I can feel myself retreating inwards with the next two hits. The phantoms are by my side now, catching my tears before they can roll off my face. That one just licked it's fingers and that one is rubbing the salt over it's skin, making it shine iridescent like a fish's scales. They'll tell the ocean soon. They'll tell the ocean and everything that lives in it. They won't be happy. Another sharp impact on my back makes me waver somewhere between here and there, but I can feel my head fading to black as blood trickles down the ridges of my ribs. I'm not sure if I can remember to breathe, so I beg the ocean for gills as the crowd looks away. written by chime template and graphics by chime faceclaim is neda marcinkonytė lyrics by a day to remember

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[k!ah]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; padding-left:10px; padding-right:10px; background-color: E3DF8F; border: 322836 solid 4px; width: 500px; height: 181px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 50px 50px 50px 50px;][atrb=width,300] ::Distrcit 4::Male:: My heart beats hard in my chest, filling my ears. I hear nothing, nothing but the beating of my racing heart. I feel like someone has clapped their hand over my ears, scared that if I listened to the Peacekeeper that I would not be able to sleep at night. But I knew that no one stood behind me, there were no hands clamped over my ears. Shaking myself slightly I tried to ignore the racing of my heart and concentrate on what the Peacekeeper was trying to say, he was reading out the girls crimes, his voice cold, no sympathy was laced in his words, just the cold hard truth. This girl had done something wrong, his words seem to tell me, and now she was going to pay for her crimes. My eyes moved from the girl, to the Peacekeeper, and back. I had been to many whippings before, I had seen many people cry for mercy at the hands of the Peacekeepers. I have even had to face them, face there wrath as they whipped me over and over again. But unlike the others, not a sound had escaped my mouth, not even when the tail of the whip had connected with my skin, not when my skin had been bloodied and broken. I had been in pain, a pain that was so different to what I was used to, but I had refused to make a sound. I had not begged, not pleaded them to stop. I knew they liked it, they liked to see the people of the Districts beg for mercy, it brought them joy, a source of entertainment. I watch the girl now, as the grist tail connects with the skin of her back. She does not make a noise as the tail; rips her skin open, she only cringes, her body tense, her eyes squeezed shut. I watch as the blood oozes from her back, the way it falls from her pale skin and on to the earth that surrounded her, turning it into mud. My eyes are glued to the girl as the Peacekeeper brings the whip down a second time. The tails slashing across her back, I feel something churn inside me, and I try to pull my eyes away, but they refuse to move, they stayed glued to the girl as a lonely tear rolls down her taunt face. But again, she does not cry, she does not beg, she stays silent, her body shaking from her ragged breathing as she struggles to fight for a breathe. I feel pain slice across my back as though I am in the girl spot. I feel my knees on the earth, my body braced waiting for the next strike. My hands are digging into the wood of the posts that I am bound to, I feel the warmth of my blood running over my back, flowing from the wounds that the whip have already caused. “Do you want me to stop? Huh? Come on. Tell me to stop, beg me, plead that you have had enough,”

[/b]the harsh sound of the voice of a peacekeeper slides into my ear as he leaned down so close that his breath swayed the hair around my neck, I could feel the heat rush off him in waves as he leaned over me, leering at me, taunting me. [/color]He was trying to break me. My mouth stays shut, my body struggling to breath, it shook like a leaf as I opened my mouth to let the oxygen in. My back was burning from the whips lashes, but I tried to ignore it, my eyes glued to the ground in front of me.

“Fine have it your way,” He spat in my ear before moving away to send the whips tails lashing across the skin of my already torn back. The whip came down had, sending a shock of pain though me that was so powerful that a small moan escaped my lips. My body collapsed. “oh, what was that? Was that the beginning of you begging me to stop? ‘Oh please sir, I’ll never do it again, please please just make the pain stop, please sir.’ Come on it not that hard. Just. Say. The. Words.” The whip comes flying back down on my back and my face hits the ground, pulling on the ropes that bound my wrists to the post.

“Please…” I moan before darkness fills my vision.

The sound of a whip hitting flesh drags me away from my thoughts and back to the situation in front of me. The girl is slumped against the posts, blood dripping from her body, her face screwed up in pain. But still she says not a word. My mind spins, I could not let what happened to me, happen to this girl. I just couldn’t allow her to go through what I had. The memory of the Peacekeepers haunting laugh flashed in my mind, making shivers crawl through me skin. I wouldn’t let them do it to her.

Without a second thought I begun weaving through the crowd, pushing people out of my way. Elbows and fists collided with my body, bit I ignored them, determined to make it to the front of the crowd. Finally I pulled free from the surging crowd and found myself standing face to face with the peacekeeper with the whip. “Stop.” I say my voice dangerously low. “Stop right now or you will regret it.” I have used this voice so many times to create fear in those that deserved it. But this time my voice faltered. It must be the alcohol.

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[Ivana Vox [Chime]]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: ffffff; border-left:0px solid #000000; border-right:0px solid #000000; border-top:0px solid #ffffff; border-bottom: 0px solid #db7093; width: 500px; padding: 0 0 0 0px;] I'm going crazy 'Cause there's things in the streets I don't believe So we'll pretend it's alright and stay in for the night Oh what a world I'll keep you safe here with me I don't remember anything. There is no past or present or future, just the constant impact of a whip against my back, lodging itself between the visible knobs of my spine before curling up high in the air again as it begs the Peacekeeper to make it find my skin again, hot and aching and bloody, the pale slate of my shoulders turned red as the air stopped smelling like the ocean and instead smelled like old metal as it corroded on the docks, waiting for a unfortunate soul without enough money for shoes to step on a nail and slowly bleed out. I don't know how much longer consciousness will keep it's hold on me, and I'm not even sure if I care. What does it matter anyways? We're all dying here. The phantom things surrounding me are singing soft lullabies now, braiding my hair with beautiful lies and sorrowful compliments. I can't make out individual words, just the soft hum of their voices mixing together and turning my head impossibly lighter as something burning and sticky trickles down my wrist. The shadows are trying to blanket me under the sweet relief of sleep, but the Peacekeeper won't let me slip away to oblivion. I want to sink/crawl/stumble/fall down the rabbit hole, but I won't/can't am not allowed. I want my dreams to welcome me with open arms, the monsters wrapping their slimy, too-tight grip around my waist and calling me as one of their own, far away from the staring/flickering/there/not there eyes of my own District. Far away from the people who do not care or cannot care or will not care. The only person who cares is my sister, and she will suck the souls out of everyone in the world. "Stop." Somehow, my head moves up, my chin lifting towards the source of a noise that's too solid to be one of the ghosts, too shaky to be one of their voices. The ones that sound like wind and waves and thunderstorms and the darkest corners of the world. It can't be one of them because I see them all turn in the same direction as I do, can feel them press closer in on me. "Ours." I hear them hiss, staking their territory and making it obvious that they don't want to share, not with a single person in the crowd or anyone else. They want to keep me all on my own, a broken thing in a land of terrors. I'm their dolly and their puppet, everything they've ever wanted. They don't want someone else to save me and take me away from them. They don't seem to know that no one else would want a fractured soul. My eyes don't focus for a long time, just the blurry outline of a boy standing in my vision, long lines and tanned skin and what looks like brown hair, or maybe he's just wearing a hat. From the way my phantoms and shadows stir and press even harder in on me, I decide he must be handsome, must be a threat to make them squirm and kiss my hair. "You're our's, don't forget. Don't leave us, don't run away. Don't be like the rest of them and let us fade away." I'm at their mercy, but I know every word is true. I know that I owe them for all of the wrongs that everyone else has done, for the lives that they took and the people they cast away. Some day I will be one of them, one of the forgotten and devastated, and they will bring me to their wonderland and tell me all their secrets, but for now I am a creature floating in the dark as I wait for the day that I go home. "Stop right now or you will regret it." The words barely entered my head before there was another sharp crack against my back. I heard something tear and rip, heard my dress split open right before I felt my skin open up and my eyes flew wide. I felt my head shake from side to side as I tried to form a word, tried to form a sentence or a command or even just ask him to run, to leave so I didn't have to sit and watch with watering eyes as the Peacekeeper turned his skin into rags after me. Turned him into one of the half-alive things that often stumbled away from a whipping, their legs barely holding their weight. I would survive this. I didn't do anything, not really, but I doubted if he stood in direct defiance of the Capitol he would be quite so lucky. "In fact, I was just about to." His voice was a snake sliding around my throat, forming a noose that rested right at my collarbone as he waited for a reason to take away my stool and let me fall, let my spine crack in two. He could bleed me out with too many hits of his whip. He could do it and say it was just an accident if anyone asked, but it wouldn't matter. Everyone would know. They just wouldn't care, not if they didn't want to be next. "But now... But now I'm not so sure." I did not want to be the thing they were fighting over, the prize in which they could prove their own power. I just wanted to get through this alive. "It's okay. I'm okay." Was that what I was supposed to say? I didn't know, but my voice rang out in the air anyways, over the silence that came from the crowd as they all held their breaths. This was the only time the District was truly a unified being. When a little girl was tied to a post and crying, when a man with a whip stood over her and a boy with bitter alcohol on his breath was standing up to him. The only time this place held any kind of familiarity was when they expected someone to die. "I'm not-" I meant to say that I wasn't worth it, but the phantoms hiss and whisper and tell me I am. I can't finish my sentence, not without angering them. "The shadows will keep me safe. The ocean will come for me. I'll be okay." The Peacekeeper is confused now, unsure of what I'm saying. Maybe he's afraid. He should be, he should know better than to hurt the sea's children. All of a sudden, I feel the blood rush to my hands as my fingers hit the muddy ground, staining them the colour of bricks. "You're insane." He's laughing at me, dark, abrupt chuckles that threaten to crack open my skull. He's looking at me as if I'll infect him, as if it's a drug that I can inject under his skin to melt away his brain. He's wrong. I'm not insane. I just see the truths that everyone else is too afraid of. "You're crazy. What's the point in hitting a crazy girl? You probably liked it." He spits on the ground next to my knee, an awful sounding word tumbling out of his mouth with it. I don't know what it means, but my guardians bristle and coax me to my feet. I have to grab at a rope drenched in my own blood to stay up. "Help me," I can hear my whisper, hear my voice like wind chimes and flute notes, feel my lips move even though I'm sure my words don't reach the crowd. I need to get away. Far, far away, before my sister sees or the ghosts get too mad or the ocean comes to show us all what she's capable of. I want to run, but the world is a carousel and I don't know how to move. "Fix me." And this time, I know it's all in my head.

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written by chime
template and graphics by chime
faceclaim is neda marcinkonytė
lyrics by a day to remember

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[k!ah]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; padding-left:10px; padding-right:10px; background-color: E3DF8F; border: 322836 solid 4px; width: 500px; height: 181px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 50px 50px 50px 50px;][atrb=width,300] ::Distrcit 4::Male:: It takes no less than a few moments for the peacekeeper to realise that I had spoken. His whip was pulled back over his shoulder, blood from the girls back clung to it, turning it a rusty red colour. A smirk appeared on his face when he saw as he prepared to bring down the whip one more time. His lips curled in a twisted way as his words slipped from his lips, "In fact, I was just about to." His voice was laced with venom as his eyes slid over to me. There was something in his eyes, something that made the pit of my stomach turn cold, something that sent shivers through my body. "But now... But now I'm not so sure." His voice was like ice, sliding through my body. Freezing me. Oh no, what had I just done. Silently I scold myself. I had only wanted to help the girl, I had only wanted her not to give up, not to be the way I had been. She didn’t deserve this, no one deserved to be tied to a pole, to be beaten to a pulp. Anger raged though me, causing my fists to clench so tightly that I could feel the edges of my nails biting into the delicate skin of my palms. The peacekeeper gives me one more taunting smile before he drags the whip back, slamming against the back of the girl, who seems to crumble, as pain soars through her, consuming her whole body. But still she does not say a word. She does not complain, only clenches her jaws as a few lonely tears fall down her blood streaked face. I don’t know what to do as I watch. I feel the urge to punch the peacekeeper, to drag him away, to tell him never ever ever again was he to prey on people to embarrassed. The urge was so strong so very strong. It was so strong that I could imagine the satisfying feeling of my fist slamming into the tender flesh of the peacekeeper. A smile nearly formed on my lips. Don’t do anything stupid! Something told me as the images of the peacekeeper begging for mercy slipped through my mind. It is not worth it. Not worth the chance of being thrown into a small cell in the Detention Centre, the voice nagged at me, like a child would at their mother. "It's okay. I'm okay." I was surprised when I heard the small voice of the girl. Exhaustion, pain and something else I couldn’t distinguish laced her words as the crowd grew silent. I turned my gaze to her and saw her staring at me, her mouth moved, as though she was trying to find words, but none would come. "I'm not- The shadows will keep me safe. The ocean will come for me. I'll be okay." I stare at her. My mouth open. What was she talking about? The ocean will come for her? The shadows will keep her safe? My eyes brows formed a frown on my head as her words raced through my mind. But no matter how hard I thought, no answers came flying to my mind. I was deadpan. "You're insane."The peacekeepers lughter brought me back to the presence. His body was shaking intensely as bouts of laughter pushed through his body. It was a dark laugh, a laugh that sent shivers over my skin. "You're crazy. What's the point in hitting a crazy girl? You probably liked it." He finally spits out. Taking one last look at the girl, he moves away, his dark eyes challenging me for a moment longer before leaving me and the girl on our own. As time went on the crowd began to thin until there was just the two of us. "Help me," the girl whispers, showing the first signs of weakness that I have seen from her. She struggles for a moment against her constraints, the sudden urge to pull free. In a moment I am by her side, my hands on her shoulders. I try to calm her, my hands falling to her shoulders I make soothing sounds. Like a mother trying to sooth a child who had been screaming all night. “It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay. Shhh. I’ll help you. I’ll help you.” I wasn’t sure if my words were getting to the girl, but I kept going. It takes me a moment to realise that I should probably undo the ropes that bound the girl to the post. Cursing quietly, I reached for the ropes, my hands working frantically to get them lose. My hands were shaking, and the world slowly became foggy as my hands worked on the ropes. “Whoa.” I say as the world slants around me. Shake out of it, Jev. Come on. Finally the ropes fall free and the girl tumbles to the ground. I am by her side instantly. “It’s okay, I’m going to help you. Everything going to be okay.” I’m not sure how many times I repeat these words as I slip my arms around the girl, lifting her from the ground. Her warm blood soaked into the material of my shirt as I lifted her into my arms. My eyes scan her face before I head off in the direction that I can come from. {ooc- I'm so sorry this post sucks, it is so badd D:}

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