Oh, Revenge & Its Thrills >> ID/LPG [day 2]

[Deleted]

I’m bored.

For the past eight or so years, I’ve been throwing punches left and right, forward and backward, upward and downward through every dimension of time and space; I’ve been grabbing swords out of toyboxes and arrows out of desk drawers, always remembering to pull them along to my next playdate

[/i]; I’ve skewered dummies, I’ve skewered people, I’ve left them on the floor of the training center with a defeated look on their face, on the streets bloodied and destroyed, or even bleeding into the cracks of my house’s very own floors – and yet all I’m doing right now is renewing the tradition. [/i]

How stupid. I don’t want to die this way, doing what I’ve done my entire life. I want something different for a change, and it seems like nobody wants to give that opportunity to me. Hello, people. My freaking birthday was yesterday and all you could get me was some morbid circus entertainment featuring a psycho clown who cuts people’s tongues off?[/i] Lame. I’ve seen enough torture inside the walls of my capacious house that it’s gotten old enough by now. All this fighting is much too main stream. If everyone’s beating the crap out of everybody else, what’s the fun in it? There’s no possible way to enjoy punching someone in the face if it’s only “what I’m supposed to do.” [/i]

God, I’m so done with this. Prepared to put out the fire on my brass knuckles and leave these idiots to fight for their selves, I turn around and roll my eyes. However, this little change in direction gives the district twelve boy exactly what he needs, and he manages to land an attack on my back. I almost laugh at how unaffected I am by the attack with my layers and layers of armor. Suckers didn’ t stay around long enough at the bloodbath, did they?[/i]

Anyways, I turn around and flash the boy a teasing look. My alliance is defending me – what a joy! They’re all just dogs, really – my dogs, of course, and Iago is the only one who doesn’t seem to stay on his leash all too well.[/i] But the others: it’s good that they know who’s in charge here. The idea that my brother, Aaron, might actually be watching me right now brings a grin upon my face. Look at me, Aaron. [/i]You see how afraid they are of me? You see how these tables have turned? And yet, there’s also that pit in my stomach that knows that he still has control over me. All this attacking and fighting, making Shadow eat his own tongue – it’s all for Aaron, isn’t it? I can still feel his hand on my shoulder, I can still hear his steady voice whispering through the gigantic trees, and his eyes – his sadistic eyes are everywhere, but so predominantly in Iago. I hope my brother finds the answer to immortality so that we never have to cross paths again.[/i]

Rolex, on the other hand, is probably sitting in front of his television wondering who this monster is: this monster with dark eyes and dark hair and a face that looks so strangely like his girlfriend’s. Even after death we’ll be put on two opposite ends of the world – him upward and me quite far downward – so it’s okay. What he thinks of me is irrelevant at this point. Besides, he never really loved me, did he? He only ever loved the idea of loving me; and at the time, that was enough. However, ideas don’t make me happy anymore. Actually, I don’t know what does.[/i]

Fighting most definitely doesn’t amuse me quite as much as it used to, but Iago is properly defending me like every gentleman should, so I should really return the favor, right?[/i] Nah. My goodness, what sort of laziness has gotten into me? If I were angrier right now, life would be a great deal easier, so I give my mind over to the mental fury that it seeks and start a list of things that annoy the hell out of me:

• Opal Shore – what an idiot mentor.
  
• Girl Scouts – “on my honor, I will try”…to kill you, thank you very much.
  
• Oh, and Girl Scout cookies? $5 a box? More like $5 a puke.
  
• Roses – If you really want to let someone know you love them, don’t buy them something that has a freaking lifespan of two days. That’s pretty morbid.
  
• People who don’t close the door completely – excuse me, please finish the job you started.
  
• Tridents – I don’t even see why gamemakers have ever tried offering that as a weapon in the games. It’s literally just a mega fork. For what, a picnic?
  
• Lists that never end, because I honestly don’t want to read all of that shit; so for my own sake, I’m stopping this one here.

For a moment, I create a very vivid fiction in my head and pretend that this girl in front of me with the stupid virtue name is actually Opal Shore selling me Girl Scout cookies with complementary roses while holding a trident and oh whoops, she forgot to close the door on her way into the arena: okay, now I have a good enough reason to get angry! [/i]Also, my fist is kind of on fire right now and it’s kind of awesome so I kind of want to use it. With my irritations recalled and a fiction to destroy, I pull myself out of the boredom that envelopes me and YEAH, I JUST CLOSED MY EYES AND SWUNG.

AND I CAME IN LIKE A WRECKING BALL.

[the wrecking ball attacks Hope with her fists]
[dice=200+5000]
[Block - 0]

[Fire]
[dice=50]
[x]

And the wrecking ball did its damage.[/size][/blockquote][/justify][/blockquote][/color][rand=79957511136308317234811536036432389185563428327445176514550112188]

[semper]

s h a d o w b i s o n

In every story your father had told you, there was always a good guy and a villain. The villain was nothing more than a slithering serpent, crawling along its belly and preying on the weaker. The good guy, however, always came in and saved the day, banishing the slimy creature to whence it came. You received each story with an eagerness that seemed to fuel your father’s fabrications; his hand gestures become wilder and he started using little voices for each of the characters, and it excited you. One night, though, you asked him why there was always a bad guy for the good one to fight. His answer had been so simple: ”You can’t have good unless there’s bad.”

At first it hadn’t made any sense. Surely there could be only good and no bad? You had heard of places that were nothing but turmoil and angst; the poorer people of Five took their day-to-day life with a grain of salt and just did whatever they could to get by in the angst. Was there any good there? No, of course not! Then, in places like the Capitol (as stupid as they were), they were so blissfully ignorant of the world around them and therefore only good existed. They never had to experience the bad.

It wasn’t until the arena that you realized what your dad had meant.

In order for you to know that good existed you had to have something to compare it to. That was why you called Iago the devil boy, why your face twisted with a newly found sense of hatred whenever you saw Emery. (Honestly it still pissed you off [and still hurt, too] that she did not accept your peace offering to celebrate her birthday after so many deaths.) Neither of them were in the least good, so therefore they were bad. There was no in between, no middle ground – they either were or they weren’t, and given their past choices you would not hesitate to label them as the villains of the games. Meanwhile, your group was the good that they compared to. Hope and Cassie were good people (and so far Brendon was proving to be good as well), so there was a balance. Good versus evil; they were the bad, you were the good.

Your sword only took a small slice out of Iago’s arm and it frustrated you. You were certainly angry enough, why could you not make decent hits? Was it the “blind rage” that was preventing your sword from making any good hits, or was it the armor that protected each of the villains? Definitely the armor. It was terribly unfair that the villains each had a tremendous amount of armor while your group had nothing but the clothes on their backs. They clearly had the upper hand and were using it, throwing a barrage of attacks against Hope and Brendon. Cassie was landing pretty hard attacks on Iago but the damn armor continued to block them, sparking an angry fire inside of you. The gamemakers just wanted to watch your alliance burn, didn’t they?

Then it happened.

You watched as Emery’s fiery weapon came down on Hope – she blocked it, though, but not the fire. The embers spread to her faster than you even realized what was happening. Your eyes grew wide with terror as the fire completely consumed her, and the heat of the flames was hot enough to feel on your own skin. You took a step back, hands trembling on the hilt of your sword and causing the long blade to wobble. Then, though your tongue still hurt and the word was nearly unintelligible, you screamed for her.

”Hope!”

There was nothing more you could do. You wanted to assist – oh how you wanted to help her – but the flames were too hot and suddenly you were back down to only three trustworthy people including yourself. Outnumbered once again. Already you had experienced tremendous loss – Eden, part of yourself, now another ally – and it was too much to bear while watching Hope burn alive. It was all just a sick, sick game with young children as nothing more than mere pawns to the Capitol. Hope had stayed up all night to watch while you wept for yourself, so it was the least you could do and return the favor by looking out for the other two and yourself as best you could. The tears were already welling in your eyes as you forced yourself to look away.

The villains really would want to watch you all burn down.



[Shadow has fled]
[performs first aid on Brendon]
[gives Brendon one jar of tar]
[collects two bundle of firewood]
[collects two apples]

i’m faking glory
and send a smile over
and the stories brand new
but i can take it from here
i’ll find my own bravado

[/size][/justify]

[Deleted]

Cassie Radke

[/font][/center]

Attacking Iago was like I said before, stupid, but I would’ve been landing some decent damage, if they hadn’t had the armor that seemed almost impossible to deal any damage to. Hope and Brendon were still going after the girl from one, and in turn they were going after them as well. Brendon was now looking pretty damaged, and if I knew anything about anything, we needed desperately to get out. But I didn’t know much, and I figured that if something needed to be done, it would be done. I’m not so much a leader, and I guess that makes me a follower.

But things happen in an instant.

Death is sudden and startling. In the split millisecond that you look away to anything, someone can fall into the grasp of death that suffocates you until you finally give in. So as I looked away, more or less at Iago and the rest of his alliance (there was something about that boy, but I think it was mainly just terrifying), it wasn’t until I heard little Shadow shout that I realized something was wrong. Oh he’s dead. Shadow’s dead and it was because I looked away for just a minute. But to my surprise, as I looked at the small boy, he was fine. Maybe I should’ve paid attention to what he was shouting. I guess it was kind of hard to pay attention to details when you were honestly shocked that Shadow had made any noise at all, and really, I was kind of impressed.

His line of sight led me to the problem, however, and when I saw what made the poor boy scream in terror, it rendered me speechless. Hope was gone and it only took one instantaneous moment of fire. The fear emitting off of Shadow and I (and probably Brendon too) was rising to a dangerous level, and to say the least, it probably amused the four who now stood before us. They were strong, they were ruthless, and they were prepared. We were none of those things, and it gave us reason to be nervous. But what didn’t give us reason to be nervous at this point?

I hadn’t learned much about Hope in the time we’d spent together. She was from eight, and she knew Eden, but other than that I didn’t know much about her. I had trusted her though, and losing her was difficult, because no matter how much you care about someone and maybe even how much you don’t, there’s safety in numbers, and now, we were in fact down one.

It almost felt as though time stood still and stopped, as I looked around, looking for any kind of reaction from anyone. The girl that had killed her stood above her in pride, maybe? I’m not good at reading people, and now was not the time to brush up on my skills.

I wondered if Cole was still watching, and what he would tell me. Was I doing good? Was I disappointing him like I was pretty sure I was? I had no expectations for myself, and neither did anyone in this world. No one even knew my name; I was only the girl from five, the redhead, the girl with the flail.

And that’s the way I want it to be.

[Cassie has fled]
[collects two bundles of medicinal plants]
[gives one bundle of medicinal plants to Brendon]
[collects one bundle of firewood]

[Deleted]

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[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: e1e1e1; border: e3e2f2 solid 0px; width: 500px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 10px;] Filler #2, I'm so sorry, will get these over the weekend. [brendon has fled] [uses shadow's first aid, cassie's med plants, own first aid, 5ft bandages, 1 use n/t for a total of -13 damage] [gathers 1 bundle of firewood] [gathers 2 apples] don't try to sleep through the end of the world and bury me alive 'cause i won't give up without a fight

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[Deleted]

I a g o
I z a r – M c C l a i n e

•••

{I feel numb most of the time}
{The lower I get the higher I'll climb}
{And I will wonder why}
{I get dark only to shine}

•••

My glaive goes wide, and I utter a curse as it clatters down on the ground. Hold steady, hold heavy, head high

[/color], I think to myself. Sweat drips down from my brow, and my hands slip on the handle of my blade. Another scream fills the air, and I can’t tell just who’s gone hoarse in the midst of battle. Is it sick that in this moment, the only thrill I have is that there is so much uncertainty?[/color] We are even: eight boys and girls, all killing for different reasons but reasons all the same. All it takes is one little misstep, one moment of uncertainty, and the whole world will come crashing down. Oh how I wish the sky would burn red and all of us would burst.[/color] For here there is no winner but eight possible victors[/color]—notice how they don’t call them winners? Victors—as in war, still have to face the scars, the guts, and the blood.

I almost let out a laugh as I see little Hope trying to get more tar out, spilling it; right as Emery comes swinging with her fat fists. A part of me lets out a shout. First it’s for a hurrah, that Emery’s landed a blow in little Hope’s side, but then as a scream that comes straight from the bottom of my bones. I’ve already seen a girl die by my own hand, with a club against her body. That was something small, almost insignificant now. She’d already had cuts up and down her body, and wasn’t long for the world even without my blow. Emery has set into motion the same fireworks I saw back in District Eleven, the ones that burned up from the ground and showered waves of light into the sky. With it she’s plucked Hope’s little life, and placed her up among the stars. At once I give a retch but keep my mouth closed. I had to watch her die.

It wasn’t like seeing Benat bleed out on television. We’d watched from the comfort of home as he’d lain there, eyes fluttering until his mouth hung open and his breath stopped. I think I remember feeling as though a cold had passed through my entire body, and then—nothing.[/color] When someone slips from this life to the next, I guess you’re supposed to feel something, especially if you knew them. I just remember wanting to turn off the television and sit in my room, by myself, until I drifted off to sleep. Sampson did nothing but cry and Deval brooded, but I couldn’t feel anything. It was just the games[/color], I remember thinking, that there’s nothing unordinary about it.[/color] They would spend the summer in mourning while I learned long division. They’d wear black while I kept on with a starched white button down.

The flames lick up her body, and it’s not the stench of the smoke but of charred skin that has me gagging again. I stand, watching her body as though I am death and she the soul I’ve come to collect. Yesterday she had been so brave telling me she’d cut me to pieces. Who’d gone to pieces, now?[/color] And I look, body burning, not at the fire that consumes her, but the little eyes that I so admired. That’s where one can see the truth of the person in their last moments. Benat had been warm and joyful, just as he had been in life. Here I lean closer, raising my blade and pointing it to her face. Somehow we both knew it would come to this, didn’t we? The snake devours the rat, just as they do in nature. It’s just how the world works.[/color]

And in her, at that moment, I see the eyes of my cousin. Here is the innocence of a child, laid out in fire and flame, ready to be torn asunder by the darkness. How could they think me so evil, that I was nothing more than the visions of their nightmares? A boy possessed and a devil? No. They are rats that scramble away without her; Emery is nearly the only one like me, but the rest have each other. They could never hope to understand a life so aggressively bent on doing what was right for it all to have been a lie. That everything they fought for—this blind good[/color] that they seemed to think was so perfect it needed saving—was as false as the hope before me. I imagine this would have been the fate of Sampson, the boy whose heart was too big for these games. He loved life. He would have been as pathetic as the rest of them, doing what was right.[/color]

“Do it,” She practically screams, though the fire is clinging and raging, tearing her to bits. “Else it’s empty words…”

I let the anger flow through and boil over. I carve out what I can before the fire becomes too much to bear, and hold one at the end of my glaive like some prize. It drips viscous fluid and blood, yet still stares into me as to discover how many pieces of my soul still remained. I stand over the smoldering body for another moment, my chest heavy and my head tucked to my chest. “Hope is dead,” I whisper, a grin spreading across my face. “Long live Hope.” They could call me a monster, but they one thing they could never call me was a liar. I had said I would come for her eyes and I did. I had warned her not to threaten me, lest she burn for it. Perhaps the rest of them would learn that we weren’t playing heroes and villains. We were just playing win and lose, pure and simple.

“Nice work, for almost getting yourself killed,” I grumble out toward Emery. I turn around from Hope’s body and let my glaive hang down by my side. By now the rest of them have gone, though I couldn’t care less. I look to Scout with a smile. “You really gave him a good run there, Scout,” I get out. Suddenly it’s all electric, us having fought and won. Not that we’d merely won, we’d killed Hope and killed hope. It was two for the price of one. [/color]“I have to say that this goes for a celebration, eh?” I say, tossing my glaive to the ground and taking up the teddy bear—the very same that had left us open to attack. “I don’t think you’ll need this after today, huh? Though it would have done us better if you’d killed him…”

I stare over at Ewe for another moment and back to the bear. My silence was all the praise that he would be getting from me today. At least the cripple hadn’t let us die.[/color] I give a grin and let out a sigh.

[Iago collects a bundle of firewood]

[Iago collects a bundle of medicinal plants]

[Iago Izar-McClaine performs first aid on Emery Moreno for -3]

[Iago Izar-McClaine uses needle & thread for -5, medicinal plants for -2, and 5ft of bandages for -1, bringing his damage to 0]

[Receives a jar of tar from sponsorship]

ooc: yes, rook let Iago take out Hope's eyes.

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[Deleted]

I wish I could feel something – anything, really – as I watch the flames consume the girl with eyes that moments earlier, were made of the same blazing fire. I wish I could feel guilty, sad, angry, or even utterly overjoyed; but my brother carved out my heart and refilled the hollow cavity with fear long before I ever had the chance to stop him. Fear of what, you ask? Fear of experiencing the same pain I’ve always learned to inflict on other people. I used to love as hard as the punches from my fists, but I’ve found that people with heavy hearts are the first to shatter the glass floors beneath their feet. And then they fall. But my brother taught me that you never want to scrape your knees if you don’t have to.

Boredom slithers along the edges of my mind, that small dose of fear wedged into the corners as I soundlessly watch the screaming girl as she is ripped apart by the unrelenting flames. I want to feel something I want to feel something why can’t I feel something please feel something but the fear is too much. I should have known since the day I was brought into this world that I would never win, and I sure as hell should have given up long ago when my brother first put his hand on my shoulder and told me to grab that wallet from the storekeeper’s pocket. Every moment that I let myself fall into a trance of ruthlessness, I’m only committing myself to his name; yet every moment that I let emotions craft the thoughts that skitter through my head, I no longer own them. He does, Iago does, my stupid parents do – it’s all just an auction and whoever can bid the most power wins control over my head.

There’s no way to win this long and tricky game against my brother, just like there’s no way to win these games – not until the boom of your own canon sounds through the air to declare your victory, (although of course you’re already dead by then). I grip my thoughts and shove them in a mental drawer as discreetly as possible, carefully tuning back into reality. I observe the scene as Iago – the boy who so surely resembles my brother – puts his glaive right up against Hope’s flaming face, carving out her eyes. Okay, whoah there mister. You really have to get the last attack in, huh? Is that it? Setting a kid on fire isn’t enough for you? Here I am, thinking that maybe I might be able to own a little bit of victory here – even just the tiny bit that it is – and no, Mr. Psychopath thinks he gets all the camera time.

Anger finds its way into my hollowed heart, and I immediately have the strongest urge to punch Iago right in the face, or even Hope or Ewe or Scout or anyone, please oh god, anyone. However, even I have enough sense to know that faces are much too fragile for my restless hands. I need something harder – something that can actually hurt me back and make me feel something. I don’t want this fight to be over, but everyone’s leaving. Everyone’s leaving because they’re so afraid to feel something more but they’re all just cowards like me, like my brother.

So instead, I pull myself forward and bring my fist into the nearest tree, an innumerable amount of grunts escaping my lips as my hand just goes and goes and goes over and over and over again until the skin on my knuckles breaks and bleeds. At this point, I don’t care! because I know I will never win – I was never born to win. Instead, my brother, Aaron, will forever reign over the destroyed kingdom within my head until the moment that canon signals my demise.

I throw one last flaming punch at the trunk of the tree, trying to visualize Aaron standing before me.

[emery attacks tree]
[dice=200+5000]
[Gash/Bruised Right Foot broken branch! - 4.0]

[Fire]
[dice=50]
[on fire?]

A couple of flames catch to the tree, not quite unlike the flames that caught the girl who is now dead on the ground. Without further ado, I snatch the teddy bear from Iago’s hands and give the boy a good punch in the face – why not, while I’m at it? – just like the stupid tree. “Find your own fucking toys to play with,” I say, referring to the incident with Hope, although I suppose Scout’s teddy bear applies in this situation too. Crazed and angered, I pull each end of the bear until there’s a huge tear down the middle, some of the fluff being swept away by the wind. I keep pulling until the bear is not one, but two pieces. Then I toss the stupid thing over to Scout and throw a glare at Ewe and oh, how tempting it is to doom everyone to the same fate as the bear. Knowing it's not worth it, I grab my stuff and start walking away without another word. I'd do better without these idiots anyways.

[first aid on self]
[eats Hope's edible plants]
[receives jar of tar from sponsorship]

ooc: she can't stahp sorry

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[Deleted]

I a g o
I z a r – M c C l a i n e

•••

{And if I was a child}
{And the child was enough}
{Enough for me to love}
{Enough to love}

•••

I watch Emery with a laugh as she strikes at the tree. Well, it’s not like she was the smartest of tributes, right?

[/color] But in watching her in her rage, I wonder if something else has taken hold. Was this what I had thought before, about being ripped apart by the games? Scout could cry and Ewe could hover in the shadows, but Emery… a twinge fills my stomach as I stand, seeing her burn in her own fire. The two of us are more similar than I like to admit. From what I have gleaned from the Morenos in the arena is that none of them belonged.[/color] Sure, there was the family that prepped them for battle, but not an ounce of familial attachment had they.

I’m still laughing when she comes and takes a swing at me. I’m lucky to put up a fist to block, but it still stings. I let out a growl and snap like a dog. “What the fuck is your problem, you crazy bitch?!” It’s all I have to not pick up my glaive and shove it right into her back then and there. None of them mattered, did they? I could do all of this one my own.[/color] But it’s a thought that sends a chill down my spine. I rub my cheek and stare down at the ground. There were still too many to take on to break apart now. I stare at Emery another moment, and cross my arms across my chest. All of them had stuck their necks out to save me—I’d gotten them into this mess, hadn’t I?

“Hey,” I hiss as I move to grab her arm. I give a hard glance and shake my hand. “Hey. If you burn down the rest of the forest then we’re going to burn to. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t ruin my chances of getting out here alive, thank-you-very-much, Moreno.” It comes out all wrong, though. I’ve never learned how to change my tone from know-it-all, and it shows. I grab onto her arm with another squeeze and shake my head. “What is the matter with you, anyway? We’re all fighting just as hard as you are. Could have just as easily been me or you to burst into flames today.”

ooc: Emery & Iago blitz!; we wanted to get this in before anthem tomorrow ^^;[/blockquote][/size][/justify][/color]

[Deleted]

Iago grabs my arm, and I stop in my tracks, giving him his chance to speak, not that he deserves it. Either way, is it odd to say that I’m relieved to talk to him? – Relieved to punch him, shout at him, and listen to him talk crap, because at least I can feel something now; at least I have something to invest my empty thoughts in. Although I am more than ready to lash out at him with my words, I use my last inch of my own restraint to allow him his speaking time. “If you burn down the rest of the forest then we’re going to burn too,” he says.

“I’d be doing you a favor, burning you to the ground, but fine then. I don't do favors for people who don't appreciate them." Is he that clueless? Doesn't he know that there's no victory in surviving this place? He tightens his grip on my arm, but his words are just a tad softer. “What is the matter with you, anyway? We’re all fighting just as hard as you are. Could have just as easily been me or you to burst into flames today.”

“What’s the matter with me?” I laugh in utter scorn. “Now remind me, just who carved a burning girl’s eyes out of her head? And who sliced a boy’s tongue right out of his mouth? If you think setting a tree on fire and throwing a couple of mad punches is worse than all that crap, then you’re either a total idiot or your head’s real fucked up.”

“Which I guess makes us the same either way," I say, mustering an expression that could almost be taken as a smile. However, it quickly disappears, a cold shiver running down my spine as I look into Iago's eyes and see all too much of my brother in them. "Now get off me.” I shove my arm into his side and pull it free, taking a step backwards.

[/justify][/blockquote][/color]

[Deleted]

I a g o
I z a r – M c C l a i n e

•••

{And if I was a child}
{And the child was enough}
{Enough for me to love}
{Enough to love}

•••

“They don’t matter.” I say quietly. Shadow, Hope—all the little ones that pranced around talking about revenge, about hope, an all those virtues that don’t exist here—they don’t matter

[/color]. They’re the weak ones, the type of people that, if they win, will cry for the rest of their lives about how unfair all of it is. They’ll ignore that they have been given a gift greater than the rest of us will earn. I am afraid of death because I know that it means no longer existing[/color]. I have never admitted it, not to anyone, because I know it will make me seem weak. I hang my head lower, looking at the strands of grass as they wave in the wind. “You’re right you know. About being messed up. Not like the rest of them—not to me, anyway.”

I can still smell the flesh in the air and make a face. “They had it coming. All of them do.” I lean in closer to her, unafraid of whether or not she’ll try and hit my face again. “Every year, it’s the same. They all cry about how unfair the games are, about how much it hurts to kill other people. About how they’re sorry for killing them or so fucking happy because they live off of the thrill.” My voice cracks here to show my age. I speak with my hands, suddenly angry. The wall that barely held it back crumbles, and I let out a yell. “They deserved it, both of them, for thinking the way they do. There’s no good or evil or any of that fairytale bullshit. It doesn’t fucking exist. You know it, don’t you?” I plead with her.

“I am so sick[/b] of…”[/color] I look back to the tree. When I volunteered, I did it for my cousin—I did the right thing.[/color] Only to be abandoned for making the wrong choice, as though my whole life had been a waste. It had been the biggest lie: doing the right thing for the sake of it. “I’m so tired of fucking doing what other people expect. Of decency for decency’s sake. It doesn’t matter. And they need to learn, they need to understand. Because if I don’t win—if I’m not the one with the fucking crown, I’ll be damned if they’ll forget about how much I hurt them. About what this all really means.” She could cry all she wanted about being stuck here, but she wasn’t going to pull that sob story with me. I expected more from her.[/color][/blockquote][/size][/justify]

[Deleted]

His words hit me by surprise. What is he trying to say? God, does he actually expect me to think and analyze -- hasn't he already realized I'm not the sharpest tool in the toolbox... or whatever that stupid saying is! Why is he telling me all of this? Honestly, I much rather prefer to punch things out and stay silent the rest of the time. Words are so abstract. They can mean so many different things; they can be stretched and pointed and deformed, but a good punch in the face always means the same old thing and there's no mistake about it.

However, as Iago goes on, I realize that what he's saying does have some truth. In fact, it's almost too much truth, as if the words that flood from his lips were pulled directly from the chambers in which I store my thoughts. "Mr. Psychopath goes deep," I tease, although I can't help but feel some sort of attachment to his words...and a bit of fear too. I sit down on the ground and pick up the torn pieces of Scout's teddy bear. Then, I pull the needle and thread from Hope's bag, which is lying next to me, and start stitching the thing back together.

"Well you'd better make sure that crown isn't made of thorns before you put it on, Victor Iago," I say. "Especially if you ever think you can hurt me." I continue to stitch the bear back together, but arms are in the wrong place...and the head is in the wrong place...and okay, yeah this definitely doesn't look like a bear anymore. I finish the job and smile at my wonderful piece of artwork before throwing the thing to Iago. "So congratulations, here's your prize ... since I won't be there to see you win of course." I don't bother getting off the ground, comfortable in my spot. "How cute. It looks just like you."

[/justify][/blockquote][/color]

[Deleted]

I a g o
I z a r – M c C l a i n e

•••

{And if I was a child}
{And the child was enough}
{Enough for me to love}
{Enough to love}

•••

It takes a second for me to hear her words come through. If you ever think you can hurt me.

[/color] I stare over at Emery as she stitches together the bear. She doesn’t take the games seriously, which is altogether infuriating but admirable. It’s not that she’s making a mockery, it’s that she seems so disinterested in fighting that she refuses to put on the show that’s expected. Maybe I admire her for her toughness, and maybe I admire the way she doesn’t apologize for having murdered two in cold blood. There’s a ruthlessness that runs deep there, one that makes me wary. Still, it seems as though I could hurt her—if it were just the two of us, and she and I had to take the final blow. I think she would hesitate, if only for a second. There’s still something there, something buried. I want to crack it open like an egg but my mouth hangs open instead.

She tosses the bear to my feet, and my mind keeps turning and returning to her words. You’d better make sure your crown isn’t full of thorns before you put it on.[/color] I blink. We worked hard to make it this far, only to have nearly died. I can’t envision a crown in my future—wanting to win was as stupid as imagining oneself doing so. I pick up at the bear and stare at the poor stitching. “I don’t want to win, but I don’t want to die.” I let the words hang in the air. Has anyone ever said them in the games before? Both sides are true; I don’t want to win and be anointed the victor. Yet I don’t want to die. Honest to a fault and perhaps more in line with all the rest in the games, I am willing to admit the truth.

I stare over at Emery and give a shrug. “I mean, for my cousin I do. But it would mean going back to my district, for one. A sea of popularity, too. Having to kiss all the asses I have no interest in kissing. Not that I don’t think I wouldn’t enjoy having my assed kissed for a while.” I think the whole world is a pretty fucked up place some times, maybe just as much as I am. I give a smile. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t slit your throat when I get the chance, Moreno.”[/blockquote][/size][/justify]

[Deleted]

There's something strange about this district eleven boy -- something bringing itchy thoughts and unfitting puzzle pieces into my mind as I try to figure him out. “I don’t want to win, but I don’t want to die," he says and for a moment, I feel like our minds are in perfect alignment and it's honestly almost a bit creepy that he's saying this and I'm thinking it and the fact that I can't seem to figure out why this boy is so alike to me in thought and yet so seemingly different from me in action is starting to get on my nerves.

He starts going on about his cousin and his district and kissing asses and I don't think he realizes that I honestly don't care to hear it, especially if I'm going to be beating him to death in a couple of days. If I've learned anything in my years of fighting, it's about ten times harder to punch someone in the face when you know the first thing about them. For a moment, the only person that comes to mind is Rolex. "Having to kiss all the asses I have no interest in kissing," Iago says, and I can do nothing but agree. "You want to talk about kissing asses? Meet my parents. The moment I get out of here I'm just their damn property again." I pause, contemplating the horrifying thought of going back to District One.

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t slit your throat when I get the chance, Moreno," Iago says. "Not unless I get my bare hands around your throat first," I say, returning his smile as I rise from my spot on the ground and move up close to him. "But if I don't, you'd better make one big fucking racket when you visit District One." My smile widens as I think of what my parents' faces would look like if I died -- their piece of family pride. It almost makes me want to fall dead right here and now. Almost, but not quite.

[/justify][/blockquote][/color]

[Deleted]

I a g o
I z a r – M c C l a i n e

•••

{And if I was a child}
{And the child was enough}
{Enough for me to love}
{Enough to love}

•••

“Parents…” I twist my fingers together and apart nervously. I wonder if all the careers have parents like hers. They must be ruthless to prep them for the arena. They must force them to fight, to be brave, to do everything that they say and when they say it, or else.

[/color] I’ve already decided she is not the typical career girl: I don’t see shades of Cricket Antoinette or Opal Shore, and though she and Beatrice have enjoyed pummeling the other weaklings as much as I have, she’s distracted. She doesn’t get enjoyment from the kills; they’re just a terrible bore. But what would a win for her mean, if she went back to district one? At least her parents supported her. That much seemed certain. They could have been monsters for all I knew, but they were there.

I shake my head. “I won’t… I don’t have anything to go back to in District Eleven anyway.” It comes out as pathetic as it sounds, and I wonder how many people at home watching the camera feed are rolling their eyes. I was still fighting for my cousin, but if there were any justice in the world, he’d be gone by the time by body make its way back to District Eleven. I’d told Deval in a fit to get out of there. One Izar was a mistake, two was a terror, and three would be tragedy. I clench my fists thinking of my parents. She didn’t care to hear about all that, did she? What kind of child was I to spill all my secrets to someone that could be standing over my body tomorrow?

“They didn’t come to see me off after volunteering,” I say looking at Emery. I hope they are watching, I hope to the stars that they see what they’ve created. “Those fuckers just left me, like what I’d done had ruined all their plans. Like…” I grind my teeth. “Like growing up and following everything they taught me, to do the right thing, to do what they wanted, to be what they wanted… and then I go and do what—what I don’t know, what seemed like I should do… and they just…” I grind my teeth again and close my eyes. If only I’d used this anger earlier, maybe I would have been the one to destroy Hope. I open my eyes and give a smile. “Sampson’s safe, though.” I say this as a saving grace. At least one boy could live.[/color][/justify][/blockquote][/size]

[Deleted]

Yeah, okay, parents -- I've heard it all before. In fact, I've gone through quite enough foster care homes to know that they all suck no matter what. From my birth mother to Mrs. Moreno, there was never a break in the trend. Iago keeps going on about it as if he has the worst fucking life in his little home in district eleven because his parents suck and because they didn't come to say goodbye to him even though he's always done everything they've wanted and god, I can't even listen to this kid any longer. At least his parents don't pretend to love him. God, I wish my parents hadn't come to see me when I was reaped, but no, they just had to come in with their proud idiotic faces shouting, "Best of luck, Ellery! We love you!" What an ugly word: love. Maybe if people knew how to use it correctly, it wouldn't put a scowl upon my face every time I hear it.

Finally, Iago finishes his long rant with, “Sampson’s safe, though," and for a second, I blink and try to come to terms with the reality that this psychopath may actually have a care in the world. I mean, he did volunteer, didn't he? Maybe he has his weaknesses too -- actual emotions locked away in the same chamber of his mind which store Rolex memories in mine. God, no need to go down that path right now... I quickly push away the thoughts, trying to hide the incoming emotions that may or may not be playing with my expressions with a shake of my head.

"I'm trying to figure out how I can use all this useless life story shit to kill you," I say. "Lucky for you I'm not onto anything yet, but um... why are you telling me all of this?"

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

[Deleted]

I a g o
I z a r – M c C l a i n e

•••

{And if I was a child}
{And the child was enough}
{Enough for me to love}
{Enough to love}

•••

Why are you telling me this?

[/color] I wait a beat before looking at her again and shaking my head. I should have fucking known that it was worthless to tell anything to her. Of course, if I’d wanted a shoulder to cry on I probably could have done so with Scout. She seemed the type to let me tell everything to her and she would tell everything back to me. I’m sure by the end of the evening I would have known her deepest, darkest secrets if I wanted to. Or Ewe—though he was more mysterious, I probably could have pulled something out of him. But with Emery it was the same as talking to a horse’s ass: the only answer you were ever bound to get would stink.

“Maybe because I thought you deserved to know, you dumb bitch,” I almost say it with a laugh. Because laughing at her keeps me from crying at how much of an idiot I am at the moment. Spilling out like some little boy who’s finally found someone that might—at some little level—give a damn about why I’m here. I was being just as foolish as they were, and in the same way I’d been making fun of all of them. It was a lesson I still needed to learn, that none of them deserved to know anything about me, and all their sob stories didn’t make them an ounce like me. “You really are one of the worst people I have ever met in my entire life, you know that? I thought that girl from Eight was terrible but honestly you, you take the cake.”

I hope it hurts, lashing out at her. I didn’t want her to be a friend because she would be dead soon, and I didn’t need to mourn over someone that wasn’t worth it. I had only wanted to have a chance to… to decompress, to share, to do anything outside of staring at burning trees and smelling molten flesh. I turn my back to her and shake my head again. “At least I won’t have to worry about you outsmarting me. That takes a load off my back.” I say it all with a grin. It’s more teasing than anything, I can’t help but laugh, too. Am I letting Emery under my skin? I lick my lips and turn. “But I suppose you’re not half bad company, considering how nicely you burned someone to a crisp. Says a lot about your social skills, anyway.”[/blockquote][/size][/justify]