dust and shadows // open

[hidden]

Layla Caparelli

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Though I cannot see it, the sky above me is overcast. The blanket of dark clouds and tree limbs lacing together above my head prevent even the slightest sliver of moonlight from reaching the earth. I can barely see three feet in any direction. Fog shrouds the forest, clinging to branches, swirling lazily around my feet. I step carefully, unable to gain a clear view of the forest floor, feeling out a path with the soles of my feet. Trees loom up out of the mist, their leaves fluttering in weak air currents. Normally, I love traveling by night. Love the stars twinkling in the navy sky, the moon casting its silvery glow over the forest. But the fog greatly limits visibility. This summer's weather seems to be going from one extreme to the next. It began dreadfully hot, bright and dry, then switched to a slightly cooler, darker, almost swamp like wetness. From dust to shadows.

Admittedly, I shouldn't be traveling in such conditions - especially after sunset - but I'm hoping that the mist will clear up soon. A slight breeze ruffles my hair, and I zip up my jacket to keep out the slight chill. I have just decided to settle down for the rest of the night, when a sharp snap echoes behind me. I whirl around, loading my bow, but I'm greeted only by darkness and an eerie silence. I keep quiet, standing stock still. I'm confident that my dark clothing keeps me well hidden, but I still remain wary. I search the darkness, but am unable to pick out anything out of place. Not that I would likely be able to seek out my target through the mist. After several minutes, I move on, careful to move as silently and swiftly as possible. I weave through the trees, dodging roots and brush. Eventually, I slow my pace. Pausing, I search for anything that my give away a pursuer, but nothing stands out.

Even so, I walk another few minutes before stopping. I return my arrow to my leather quiver, and sling my bow across my back as well. I select a large tree with a plethora of thick, sturdy branches and hoist myself up. I settle on a low branch, no more than five or six feet from the ground. I want to be able to escape quickly if necessary, and here I’m low enough to jump without injury. I sit back against the trunk’s rough bark, resting my bow across my knees. Once I’ve fixated myself on the limb, I take another moment to observe my surroundings. The fog is thinning, and I can see farther away despite the lack of light. Nothing shift in the shadows, if it was anything at all. Probably just the wind, I tell myself. There was hardly a breeze, but I ignore that fact. The sun will be up in a few hours, and I should be able to continue on. With nothing left to do but wait, I take up a song, singing softly to myself.

notes: anyone is welcome :]
outfit (general idea): here

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[kendall]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=837E7C] nineteen male wanderer matt dillon

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=837E7C] Sometimes, I dream about going back to District 12. Except I don't think they should be considered a dream, maybe a nightmare or a mix of both. When I enter my land when I sleep everything is just how it was when I was younger. I nice house and two loving parents and my sister. But just as I was about to open up a birthday present my house walls crumbled on top of me and everything burst into flame. When I wake up sweat dripping down my face I can't help but smile at myself. It was too close to reality. I know I can never go back to District 12, even though I don't have much there to go back for. My sister should be enough. But with the crimes I committed, there wasn't a chance they would let me walk the streets for a second. My life is full of regrets. Not like normal children my age where they regret leaving their girlfriend. I actually regret my past that could actually change and mean something. I have never had a girlfriend and looking at my appearance right now, no one would ever want me. Besides I am used to not being wanted. The leaves and twigs crack under my warn boots as I wander on and on into the open forest. Nothing ever happens anymore thats exciting. Yeah I steal a few things which used to be exciting. Now it's just same old same old. I have to steal to survive. The birds were chirping in the early morning sky and as I walked the flew over my brown messy hair. I didn't smile at them, I kept walking hoping I would find a destination soon. Wandering as it's ups and downs just like anything. Soon I can across a soft humming. My mind began to race. I hadn't seen anyone in days, maybe even weeks I wasn't sure. Just for safety for my mind I fingered my knife in my back pocket I hid behind a tree before I made any real noise. Watching the girl my mind began to race. I haven't seen a pretty girl in a long time. When I saw her I had a pang in my chest because she reminded me of my sister. I contemplated with my self weather or not I should talk to her but I decided I should. I have been on my own for quite a while now. Cautiously I stepped out from my hiding place. Putting my hand on my back pocket I coughed out some words. "What's your name?" I had to know, just to be safe.

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Layla Caparelli

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The sky is growing lighter, weak sunlight filtering through the tree tops. It was closer to morning than I'd thought. I'm still singing quietly to myself as I check over my limited supplies. The song is one my mother taught me when I was young. Thinking about her sends a pang of nostalgia through me, but of course I can't go back. Sometimes I wonder why I even left in the first place. But it's too late now, though I often find myself thinking of what would happen if I returned to District Nine. Surely that Capitol would seize me, avox me. And what is there to return to anyhow? Most of my family is gone. I don't even know if my mother is still alive. And if she is, would it really be worth going back, even if I could? No. I miss her, but perhaps I am better off out here.

With daylight, the forest comes alive. Leaves shiver in the slight breeze, small animals chitter in the limbs above, and somewhere a mockingjay mimics my song. I brush my wind blown hair back from my face, hopping down from my resting place, dropping lightly to the ground. It's warmer now, and I strip of my jacket, knotting it around my waist.Reaching back, I tug an arrow from my quiver and nock it, peering among the trees for any signs of small game. I'm about to set off when a voice stops me in my tracks. I spin around, my song cutting off abruptly. A boy stands several paces away, his hand hovering near his pocket. I stiffen, thinking of a weapon stored there. My grip tightens on my bow. "What's your name?" I hesitate before answering. "Layla." I say finally. The boy looks to be a bit older than myself, and his appearance makes me think he's been out here a while too. This eases my mind only slightly, though I find myself hoping he's someone I can befriend. I've been deprived of company for so long, it would be nice to have a companion again, to hear another human voice.

notes: n/a
outfit (general idea): here

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[kendall]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=837E7C] nineteen male wanderer matt dillon

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=837E7C] I have been wandering for years now. All I know is that I am 19 years old and I ran away three weeks after my 16th birthday. It wasn't much of a birthday. Actually to think of it I haven't celebrated my birthday since my mother died when I was 14 years old. And it was nothing really worth celebrating. All that was happening was the annual turning of my birth. Sometimes I wish I wasn't born because it was a lot of pain for me living. My old life is such a blur even though I remember some things very well. It's amazing how easily I forget things. Maybe it was because while I am running away from anything I tried to forget a lot of things. My hand runs along my back pocket pulling it out just in case. I could never be too safe here. I step closer to her hesitantly, flipping the blade up. I was such a paranoid person. Whenever I found someone in the woods I was afraid they would actually be a peacekeeper who was on the hunt for run aways. I have been tricked before and I wasn't taking any chances. Being avoxed didn't sound like a pleasant thing, but neither was wandering. The girl told me her name and I shook my head. Lyla. "Where are you from? Are you from the Capitol." I say in a angry tone trying to hide my fear. "Because if you are I am not letting you bring me in." I couldn't afford to be brought.

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ooc - hey! I totally forgot to introduce myself! I am Kendall, I am excited to RP with you. Here is his bio in case you wanted to know more about him.

[hidden]

Layla Caparelli

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As someone who has been living in the woods for the past two years, I know that out here, there’s no such thing as overly cautious. Still, when the boy pulls his knife, a strong feeling of unease crashes over me. I hold my ground, refusing to let my fear show. My fingers contract nervously on the handle of my bow, the other hand tentatively resting on the point where the arrow meets the string. I hold it in a relaxed, yet ready position before me, the weapon aimed toward the earth. I tense as he advances a step forward. My mind is racing. My ability to shoot from a distance is to my advantage, but the last thing I want to do is harm him. Then again, I haven’t the slightest idea what his intentions are. So far, he’s only demanded information from me. But, if a fight were to occur, surely I would be on the losing end. I’m decent size for girl of sixteen, but I am nothing compared to the young man standing before me. He’s much taller, and likely much stronger as well. I could run, but as fast as I am, there’s no guarantee I can out sprint him. And that would only appear cowardly, and I will not be seen as such.

”Where are you from? Are you from the Capitol?” His tone is bitter, angry. ”Because if you are I am not letting you bring me in.” I give my head a slight shake. Chances are I couldn’t turn him in even if I wanted to. ”No, I’m not from the Capitol.” Not a Peacekeeper, which, it seems, it what he suspects. When I speak, I’m almost surprised to find that my voice is calm, steady. ”District Nine.” I pause, meeting his deep brown eyes with my own bright green ones. A barrage of questions flood my mind. I’ve answered enough of his for the time, now it’s his turn. ”What is your name? And where are you from?” I am again pleased to find that my voice does not give away my unease. My gaze is firmly focused on him, searching for any signs that might arouse suspicion. Nothing so far, but I can’t deny that he is rather good looking. He’s aiming a knifeat you and you’re thinking about how helooks? I chide myself, my eyes briefly flitting to the weapon he hold, then back to his face. His eye will give him away first.

notes/ooc: Hi! & it's totally fine, I didn't introduce myself either. Anyway, I'm Hidden and I am just as happy to RP with you. ^.^ You've got a great character, by the way. I like your writing. :] Here is the link to Layla's bio as well.

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[kendall]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=837E7C] nineteen male wanderer matt dillon

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=837E7C] I remember when my father would sit on his chair by the fireplace, smoking his pipe. My pregnant mother would be on the love seat knitting booties for my soon to come sister. I sat in front of my father playing with my cars. It was a typical happy family. One particular evening started just like a described. My father looked at me with his big brown eyes and told me never to smoke and steal or I would be a bad man. I looked up at him, innocent faced. I remember asking him why he could smoke and if that made him a bad man. He looked at me and very seriously said that he didn't steal so he wasn't a bad man. I look back on that night because I always remember how I didn't follow his advice. My dead fathers only request, and I didn't follow it. I must be a very very bad man. The pretty girls hand lingered on her arrow and bow ready to strike when she needed too. She seemed like me, just waiting for the other to strike. I didn't want to hurt anyone right now, but if I had to I wouldn't hesitate to do so. I have done it before and wasn't afraid to do it agin. Except I don't think it would be as easy because this girl who named herself Lyla, was quite pretty. I shook the thought out of my mind. Looks shouldn't matter because she might look innocent but is really a beast. What can I say? , you have to struggle to survive out her. Sometimes I think it should be survive to struggle. Because all I remember is struggling. What if she was lying? I have met a lot of liars in my life. They will lie, cheat and steal their way to life. Liars were everywhere, and I have a hard time trusting anyone. Not even my family, who is all dead anyway so it doesn't matter. I have a hard time trusting people because I wouldn't trust me. I am one of those people. I have never been to District 8. I nod stepping a little closer. "District 12." My hand releases the grip a little on my knife. "David." I say. That rolled off my tongue like it actually was my name. Lie. See what I told you? It's all I know. To be honest, I have used David as my name for everyone I have met. It's like my code name. It's my fathers names. It's risky being a criminal on the run and using your real name. If someone sees your name on a wanted sign you are screwed. "How do I know your not lying?" I ask. God, such a pretty girl and I can't even trust her. It's the wild out here. And you can't trust anything that comes with it.

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ooc- i looked her up before i replied to the thread any ideas or go with the flowww?

[hidden]

Layla Caparelli

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When I was young, my father made me promise never to go anywhere near the district boundary. But my grandfather used to tell me stories, tales of the times before the dark days, when the people of District 9 still lived off the forest. I'd ask him endless questions, always finishing by begging him to take me into the forest. He'd laugh and tell me he was too old, and so eventually I asked my father. I remember how he looked at me, how stiffly he spoke when he made me swear never to go beyond the fence. I didn't keep that promise, I was far too curious. I don't remember now what lie I told him, but I do remember what he said afterward. "I trusted you, Layla."

The boy's grip on his weapon relaxes slightly, and he shuffles forward again. I tense. He claims his name is David, that he's from District Twelve. I hear it's awful there. "How do I know you're not lying?" He asks, rather suddenly. I shift uneasily. "I ought to ask you the same question," I say finally. Then I carry out what could possibly be the most foolish thing I've ever done. I pluck the arrow from my bow string and slide it back into the quiver on my back. I let my arms fall to my sides. Unease and instinct getting the better of me, I take a small step backward. Every instinct, everything I've learned out here tells me what I've done is stupid and naïve, that I should be fleeing. But I won't runaway, not again.

notes/ooc: Sorry for the shortness xP

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[kendall]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=837E7C] nineteen male wanderer matt dillon

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=837E7C] To be honest, District 12 was an up in the air type of district. Most of the people there are rather poor, if not extremely poor. If you were lucky you had a nice house. Those were few people, I was one of those people for some time. Then, I figured fate wanted to change my life and give it a sudden whirl of change. But I never expected to loose everyone I cared about so quickly. First my father, then my best friend, then my father. My sister was different. I still believe I lost her. How could I ever go back to her now? I left her on the porch of the community house and never came back. I imagine her sitting there in the pouring rain waiting for me. I have so much regret in my life, I think I am starting to regret being born. Trust is something so many people want but don't have. It takes such a long time to gain, and a small action to loose it. I have never found time for trust. The only person who ever really trusted me was my sister. But she doesn't trust me anymore. No one ever really has. I can't even trust my self. I smile to myself when she answers my question with a spin back on me. I find myself let a small laugh escape my lips. "I suppose you really don't." It's true. This girl could be named Sarah instead of Layla and hail from District 5. It's all up in the air but she chooses to believe me. I watch her as she puts her weapon away, sliding the sleek arrows back into her quiver. The moment she let her bow go I wanted to sprit the hell out of there. Never look back at her pretty face. But I didn't, I really should have. I don't want to get attached to someone and let them down again. I have done that so many times. I flip my blade back, and slid it in my pocket without taking my eyes off of her. "So, Layla, what's a pretty girl like yourself doing all the way out here?" My cold voice ran into the morning air. I didn't take a step towards her but simply rests on the tree beside me.

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ooc- glad you are back!!

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Layla Caparelli

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I can still clearly call to mind my life prior to this, before I fled the district. I guess you could say I was lucky. Lucky that my family had a house, that I had a family at all. I suppose I was better off than many, but how fortunate was I in the end? Sometimes I wish I could go back District Nine, back to living in the slums of District Nine with my family. Even if I were to go back, what would I be returning to? My old life is over, my family gone. No, running that day was my only option.

He chuckles at my response to his question. "I suppose you really don't." This statement, however simple, arouses my suspicion. But he's right, I don't know if he's telling me the truth. He could be making everything up as he goes along. I can't possibly fathom what reasons he may have for lying - if he is indeed lying - and so for now I give him the benefit of the doubt. A moment later, to my relief, he sheaths his weapon. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. I'm a bit taken aback by his question and the acid in his words. I glance away from him briefly, pondering just how I should respond. I return my gaze to him, hesitate just a moment. "I had no choice. My family...they're all dead." Just these few words bring back vivid memories. Putrid black smoke darkening the skies, peoples' screams piercing the air... I wouldn't wish such a terrible event on anyone.

Eventually the sounds of the forest pull me from my dreadful reverie. David is leaning against a tree, as casual a pose as if he were talking to an old acquaintance. Something still nags at my conscience, though I can't put my finger on it. I tuck a lock of my hair unconsciously behind my ear, wondering if I should voice the slew of questions now running through my head. My father always said curiosity was my 'besetting sin'. But alas, it still gets the better of me. "And you..." I begin, "What's your story?"

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[kendall]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=837E7C] nineteen male wanderer matt dillon

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=837E7C] You always have a choice. You always do. I would have agreed with Layla the first year I ran away from District 12. I told myself that I didn't have a choice to ease myself. To make myself feel better. But the longer I am out here, the more I realize I was wrong. You always had a choice. I could have stayed in my district and face the consequences. But I chose the easier route, running away, and told myself it was the only choice I had to push away guilt that overflowed my heart. I held back a snicker when she said she had no choice. Because she had one, she just chose to ignore the other choices. I just nodded. "You always have a choice." I say, which lead to a silence I didn't dare to break. I watched this girl I stumbled upon in the woods with my hard eyes as she seemed to have an inner battle with herself. Something seemed to bother her about me and what I said. I am at the point that it takes so much for me to feel sorry about lying and cheating. Stealing was so normal to me it was like paying for something out of good will. The last time I payed for something was probably 3 years ago. When I was 16, the jewelry at the little rundown stops was my mothers. They took it away from her so she could pay off the debt my father died with. I remember looking into those stores and just thinking how much I wanted to take my dirty hands and snatch it back up. Because it was mine. The only thing I had left of my old life was the necklace around my neck that I never failed to wear. It reminded me of my family. My family who were watching me from the heavens and asking themselves why was it me who was going to hell. I was going to hell and I knew it. She asked me my story. I looked at her like I didn't see it coming. Even though I did. My story? I used to be a rich lad then on my birthday I lost my father and everything else. I moved to the seam where my mother had a baby. My sadness changed to rage. I was a delinquent. I lied, cheated, stole. I joined a gang. I watched my best friend die. My mother died leaving me and my sister. I left my sister alone because I killed a man. "I don't have a story." I say looking at her for the first time in the eyes. My voice got low and serious, more serious then it already was. I dug a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it. "I just stopped living." I was already dead.

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Layla Caparelli

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"You always have a choice." I press my lips together and turn away. I did have a choice; there are always other options. I could have stayed - I should have stayed. I ought to have remained and cared for my mother. I tell myself she's still alive, still living in that crumbling one story house. But I know that that probably isn't so. Perhaps if I hadn't left, she'd still be alive. But like a coward, I ran.

We are our choices.

The silence seems to stretch on endlessly. "I know." I draw a weary breath, turn back to him. Another length of silence. I shift my gaze downward, staring absently at the needle covered earth. It has turned damp with the arrival of morning, the dew making it look blurred and fuzzy. I'm reminded of those first drowsy moments after awakening, when my thoughts and memories are hazy and for a moment I'm floating in blissful oblivion. The boy speaks again, and I look up. "Everyone has a story," I murmur, but his voice is so dark, so gravely serious, that I say no more.

Out of my entire past, I think I recall most clearly - and most frequently - those few days before I split. My mother never moved from her bed, never spoke, and I felt more alone than I can ever remember. I thought perhaps by leaving I would be escaping that feeling of loneliness, but doing so only brought it to a new intensity. It seemed there wasn't anything left for me in District Nine, that everyone who had cared about me was gone. And if no one cares for you, do you really exist at all?

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[kendall]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=837E7C] nineteen male wanderer matt dillon

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=837E7C] Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if my father didn't die on my birthday. Would everything be different? Or would fate just catch up and I would still find myself in the woods, alone and not loved? All I could tell myself was that it was all over and done with and I would never know what it was like to celebrate another birthday with my whole family. I will never know what was in those shiny, neatly wrapped gifts that sat on the table haunting me all night. Life is full of surprises. I used to think surprises were good things. But I learned that most of them aren't every pleasing. It's more like a bullet to the foot then a pat on the back. Of course she knew. It just had to take some coming to Jesus moments to realize she did have a choice. But she was like me. Layla didn't know it but in a way we seem to be the same. We both made a choice to run away. We ran away so we wouldn't have to face the consequences of our actions. If I had stayed, I wonder what would be of me. Maybe I would be dead. Here in Panem, it's a strict law and order. If you step out of line, well your screwed. And trust me when I say this, I have stepped out of line so many tines I was way past the line. Why past it for sure. A day doesn't pass in my pathetic life that I don't reply my last few days in district twelve in my head. I didn't have a meal in a day because I gave it to my sister so she wouldn't just starve. The only reason we weren't in the community home was because we hopped from house to house. The rain drops falling on me and my sisters face. It was safe to cry those days when it rained. Since no one could see the tears. I tried to stay strong for her but I didn't. I was afraid to stay strong for someone else because if I let them down I would feel so low. I looked at Layla and blinked hard. Was she God's way of telling you get second chances? I shook my head. "Some people's story's just aren't worth the breath." Mine certainly wasn't.

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Layla Caparelli

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Whether it was death by starvation or illness, chances are if I'd remained I'd be six feet under by now. Oh, I had a choices. I could have stayed, watched my remaining family die, let myself perish or be whisked away to some community home. Perhaps running, cowardly as it might have been, gave me a second chance - however slim - to live. I've been living like this just two years, but out here you learn fast or die.

I thought perhaps, that after some time, living a nomadic lifestyle might bring a sense of freedom I was never able to experience in the district. I thought I'd be able to forget my old life, forget everything. But being a wanderer doesn't really set you free, and it doesn't let you forget. It only makes you remember. The memories, the guilt, it all stays with you.

I gaze quizzically at the boy standing before me. He appears frustrated to me, angry, bitter. I feel for him, yet something still bothers me. I've got a nagging feeling that he's lying, but about what I can't say - not that he's revealed much. I chew my lip, hesitating. But finally, my burning curiosity gets the better of me. My father used to say curiosity was my besetting sin. "But perhaps yours is?" I prompt tentatively. I say no more, not wanting to pry.

ooc: I apologize for the delay and shortness of this post, I've been busy recently

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[kendall]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=ffffff] LUKE CURTIS

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=837E7C] nineteen male wanderer matt dillon

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=837E7C] I have been alone for awhile now. I haven't seen many wanderers for a long time. Many I have come across I have left or they made there way up too close to District 12 then I wanted to ever go again. Out of the small amount of people I have encountered during my wandering years I found that they were looking for District 13. I just nodded when they told me this but it was stuck a stupid idea. The Capitol blew that place up a long time ago. There was nothing there but charred trees and smoke. I prefer to be by myself, and of I am with people, for a short amount of time. You may think I am crazy but thats the truth, since it doesn't lead my to feeling guilty about lying. Looking at Layla I wonder why my life has lead me too her. I am trying to tell myself it was just a casual spotting and we will be on our ways in the next 10 minutes. But I just have this gut feeling it isn't like that. I haven't seen another soul for the past month and I am guessing neither has see judging on the way she was so eager to keep a conversation going. I watched her question herself before she spoke again. I laugh a cold laugh. "If it was I would have told you by now." Damn she wanted to know. I haven't told anyone about anything that has ever happened to me in district 12.

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sorry it's short. i am so busy right now.