the lines we toe: starcrossed lovers {birch v. blackmore}

[Meghan]

Milo Birch
Fourteen
District Two
1,924 words
template by
Meghan

Tonight's celebration was prescribed to me as the most important event of the entire year, but I knew better than to believe this shallow lie from parents unattached from reality. The Blackmores and the Birches were always meant to merge. We were the deadliest, the bravest, and the wealthiest families in the District. It was hard to surpass our glory -- and our dishonor, especially in light of recent events.

It was clear that the Birch family was slipping from grace. It was not an easy fall and we did not stumble smoothly. Our failure came from swords sliced clean through necks and hopeless struggle on the field of battle. We were no longer impressive in the eyes of society, even as we futilely fought our way up the score boards in the dim lights of our training center.

It had become clear that tonight's union with the Blackmores, one where every member of the Birch family, close or not close was expected to attend, was not because we were powerful and we wanted to share in the light with the other family. No, we did not come to celebrate, for we had lost our societal standing the minute the fourth member of our family had lost his life in what should have been his most honored stage.

The truth was our parents had become desperate. We all heard the whispering in the hallways of our school, and the subtle cut in pay was not missed for those of us who were working. The respect district two once held for our family of careers was crumbling before our eyes. Surely this charade was a doomed attempt? The Blackmore's as a whole tolerated us (and I dared not speak of them as individuals. Surely I could not give my mother the satisfaction of seeing her little plan work), and we were welcome in their presence, but our position had been demolished in their eyes too.

I knew this was futile, yet I did not fight my mother's attempts to dress the four of us to the nines. Although I was the youngest of our branch of the family, she still threw all her efforts into making me look as grown-up as possible. After all, I was her crowning jewel, her everlasting glory. Objectively, I had come out on top in training, and therefore I deserved the most respect. It had become exhausting, really, and by the time I emerged from our manor, dressed in a shimmering gold dress, I felt like a peacock who had been plucked of all their feathers. Nobody would fall for such an act, especially after the mistake I had made in training only days before.

My scars were clearly visible, but I did not hide them in shame. My mother had fretted over the thick lines of pink that snaked down my arms and criss-crossed against my exposed legs. "What if they think you are weak, Milo, darling?" The lady had insisted, but I shook my head at her several times to get my point across. Firm words followed my objections: "Mother, these people do not object to pain. You got to trust me on this at least. My pain will only be our gain, I promise."

I was starting to regret my promises as I followed the crowd into the Blackmore manor. My eyes flitted from the large hall to the pictures on the wall. I could see his photograph, still just as vile and cruel as it was before. My breath caught in my throat as my father led me past the spot where he had touched me, and suddenly I felt myself go faint. I had to grab his arm in order to remain standing.

"Sweetums, what's wrong?" He inquires, turning towards me in order to fully support my weight. I cannot speak in my sudden fear. All I can do is stare into his eyes, the same shade as my own green, and try to convey every rush of emotion I was experiencing. I was not usually one for expressing feeling, especially towards those closet to me, but for some reason this moment felt like an exception.

"Um, I'm sorry, Father. I felt a little sick for a second there." Sick being the light-term for the gut-wrenching nausea that was trying to leap straight from my throat. "Must be the nerves, eh?" He nodded, but I could tell he was unconvinced. I would have to do better to conceal each and every lie.

Every step we took closer to the manor's large dining hall was a step closer to him. I could feel my heart leap in my chest, my emotions churning back and fourth between fright and anger. Which demeanor would I exhibit when I passed through the threshold and came face-to-face with the one person who was able to invade my nightmares?

I did not have much time to consider my impeding reaction. Soon we had crossed into the room and fell into line, waiting for proper instructions. I could feel my pulse quicken, but I was quickly distracted by the smiling form of Logan, who had walked across the room as soon as we entered. To greet my parents, I presumed. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, Logan turned directly towards me.

"Hey, Milo." He greeted me with open arms, repeating the action from a week before. I did not have the chance to say anything before I was engulfed in his hug.

"Oh... hey, Logan. How are you?" I ask him quickly. I do not let go, not willing to leave the embrace just yet. He leans in towards my ear and whispers.

"I'm fine. How's my pretty killer today?" His breath is hot in my ear and I feel my face go flush with embarrassment. Was this normal friend behavior?

I pull away from him, but my fingers still brush his shoulders. "Oh, just fantastic, Lo'. Not really looking forward to --" My words are lost mid-sentence as I catch site of him behind Logan's shoulders. He's staring at us, his eyes unforgiving and his lips twisted into a sneer. My stomach drops unpleasantly, and I realize the answer to my inner-riddle before. Sure, I was upset, but my fear was nothing compared to the malice that suddenly filled every fiber of my being in that one moment. "Excuse me." I nod towards my parents, and give Logan one last, fleeting glance before pushing past the three of them.

My heels echo across the tiled floor as I urgently decrease the space between me and my greatest enemy. I do not think as I pull a knife from the padding of my bra and shove it against his throat. It is like we are the only two in the room as I stare straight into his eyes and bare my teeth.

My voice drips with venom as I spit a warning. "You have a lot of nerve in coming here, Tuff." My voice is strained. I want to turn on my heel and flee the hall, but I stand my ground. "I am warning you now. If you so much as look at me for the rest of the night, I will not hesitate to bury this knife straight in your throat."

Tuff does not respond at first, his gaze focused on the knife at his throat. It feels like an eternity before he twists his lips into a vicious smile and echoes my honeydew words with phrases of his own.

"How lovely it is to see you too, Miss Birch." I feel like I am going to vomit with every word he coos, "I cannot possibly imagine what I did to deserve such hostility from you. After all, you are our esteemed guest." He pushes the knife away from my throat and catches my wrist. I quickly find it is difficult to swallow, the action too reminiscent of our positions a week before.

"Don't touch me." I spit, but he only smiles wider.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot, Milo. Please, it is an honor to mingle with you." He has me pinned again as he swallows me a tight hug. I feel all the air leave my lungs as he squishes me closer to him.

I can't help it. I lose all sense of self control, all awareness of the importance of the night because suddenly I am screaming at the top of my lungs. This is not a child's scream, and I am not playing. I genuinely feel fear as he squeezes me. It feels like I am forever trapped, sealed in the fate of the presence of my near-rapist. What had he called me again? Filthy slut.

I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed against him and before anyone could stop me, I cracked my free knuckle against his jaw. He stumbled for a second, as if uncertain what to do. A breath later, I found myself pinned to the ground under his weight. His fists found my ribs, and I felt them crack unpleasantly from the force.

"GET OFF OF ME." I holler, and I could feel sticky tears cling to my eyelashes as he continues his attack. It took a minute of hopeless struggling before I was able to push him to the side. As soon as I had the advantage I flip on top of him and grab my knife from where he had dropped it. I hold it to his throat, ready to end it all right then and there. I had done it before, with Logan, I could do it now. Take his life, do it, Milo. He deserves it. I yell incoherently as the tears fly down my face, but I was not able to succeed in my mission. Two strong arms interrupt me and pull me away from him. I kick my feet to no avail, the figure holding me was too strong.

I glance briefly at them only to realize it is my cousin Terry. Of course they would stop this fight. I was in the middle of a room with everyone who ever cared about me.

"Put me down!" I scream, but Terry does not listen. "The bastard deserves it. He deserves it for what he did."

"I do not doubt that, Milo." Terry murmurs, but still he does not release me. I can see someone helping Tuff to his feet. Blood stains his lips, probably from the punch I landed on him, and he looks at me with mirth I never expected to be possible.

"Your girlfriend is fucking insane," Tuff speaks the words as if the very air he breathes is made of poison. I do not have to look to know who he is referring to. "In fact, her whole family is crazy. The whole lot of them. I bet they would all try to kill us if they could get away with it." He lets out a humorless laugh, and I have to wonder - did he speak the truth? Would we attack them if we could?

Terry certainly did not seem to be disagreeing with his words, even as he held my arms behind me. I glance around at the various members of my family. Some are like Terry, expressionless but silent. Others, like little Annalise, crack their knuckles and stare him down. Even Randolph Williams, a family member I hardly interacted with, wore a disturbed expression.

I swear under my breath and looked from Tuff to my family, and to Tuff again.

So much for the pleasant family dinner, and it was all my fault. "Well, shit."

Hello owners of Birches/Blackmores/Pines/Williams/McEwans/ETC. This is a massive family thread for anyone in connection with the families. It is essentially the "event of the year", where the two of the most influential families in District Two come together to celebrate and mingle. This can also be a mourning thread for Ares/Hannah/Beatrice/Cassius, and we can treat this as a formal occasion. Please dress your character appropriately. Also note that my character Vinnie Taylors-Birch will be crashing the party with his kinda-sorta-girlfriend Glitter Dewberry. This will come in later and is sure to add a little more drama (as if this thread does not have enough drama).

Please note you are welcome to post in any order you would like, and there is no minimum or maximum post length. As long as you adhere to site rules, you are fine. Have fun!!!

PS: Cato gave me permission for the Milo/Logan conversation.

[Knuckles]

Matthias Evander Birch

A celebration of life and death lays before me as another family invited us over for a party- a large celebration of all the Blackmores and the Birches. Why anyone would celebrate such a thing is beyond my imagination. My family knows what they want- to be the most brutal careers in the arena, but it doesn't matter anyway as I'll never be the person they are yearning for. Murdering innocent people for fun isn't a pleasure in my everyday life. Nobody is deserving of death no matter what district they come from. It's beyond my understanding why anyone would train for the games, but it's what they want, and it's my will to please them. My entire family wants me to murder, and if that's what they want, a crazy murderer I will be; however, I'll never volunteer for the games, like Ares and Hannah. The only way my body will step foot into the arena is if my name is called and nobody saves me.

A party with people trained for murder, just like myself, together celebrating life as we know before the entire world has ended. It's hard living in such a strict nation, but it's expected for everyone here to train hard preparing for the games. Several brutal careers will stand before one another like it's no big deal, but I know everyone there will want eternal glory, everyone except me. If my name is ever called, my life will end up destroyed just as several others have since the beginning of the games. This party will pin us against one another as we learn one another before we even know our fates. Friendships will be formed, but the moment two of us are reaped together, the friendships will be broken as families fight against families for the eternal glory. One step at a time, my life will break, just as it has with the death of my family before me. It's a horrible situation, but nobody will ever listen.

A suit. Out of everything I'm capable of wearing, my parents are forcing me to wear a suit. They say it'll make me look professional as this is a formal celebration only the most famous are invited to. The Blackmores and the Birches all sitting together under a single roof as dinner is placed before us only has one possible ending, but who am I to say anything? My eyes meet my own as my feet carry me in front of a mirror. A white button up shirt lays neatly against my skin. Black pants, and a black jacket secured together with a black bow tie. I feel like a butler prepped for service as people chant my name willing for food to be placed kindly upon their plates. I am not a butler, and I'll never serve anyone. If all else fails, the bow tie and the jacket will be lost, left behind, gone forever in the midst of everyone around. I won't miss it, and I'm sure my parents will never know- it'll be my little secret.

The moment my eyes caught sight of the Blackmore Mansion, my heart ceases. Whispers spread from person to person about how beautiful it was, but I never believed it until now. People, my family and the Blackmore family, pours through the doors one by one. My eyes dance for joy seeing everyone dressed for the occasion, but it does nothing for myself. A gentle tug at the bow tie and a quick roll of the shoulders sets my motives apart from everyone around me. Maybe the party will place one upon another bringing the Birches back into the light, but the one true feeling would be for my life to go completely unnoticed- not just the Blackmores, but my family as well. One step at a time my feet glide up the stairs placed before the house before sliding into the house. I'm a child who has just been given the best toy in their entire life as my eyes glance around the building as I stand in complete awe.

My eyes, wide as saucers, bounce around from one side of the house to the other taking in every single detail as I never want to forget this moment. My last thoughts will always be about how amazing this house is. Most people think of families as they lay dying on the ground, but my last thoughts will be of this house, and how amazing it truly is. When I step into the dining hall, my eyes widen farther than I could ever imagine. Honored guests standing around side by side chatting about anything possible, yet incoherent words bounce through the room spreading rapidly against the other. Roars fill my ears, and with a slight cringe, my feet drag me forward away from everyone.  It's best if nobody sees me; it's best if nobody even notices I exist, but it's impossible with such a large crowd gathered around. My hands swipe a cup from the end of a table raising it gently to my mouth before swallowing forever.

In a moment fighting breaks out, and I move myself into a corner away from everyone as I watch from the distance. Pin families against one another in the fight for the strongest of the district, and fights will shatter the veil holding everyone together. The moment we stepped foot into the Blackmore territory is the moment our lives were placed on the line. One wrong move will destroy us all just as it destroyed Cassius, Beatrice, Hannah, and Ares. None of them were prepared and in the wrong moment, everything ended, just as all hell will break lose here. I will not fight them; I will not stand in the open for everyone to see. Invisible walls surround me against those who are here. It's best for someone to go unnoticed especially in unfamiliar territory. I can feel the tension rising through the air as everyone gathers around, watching, and all I can do is chuckle silently.

Narration 7f8e9d
Thoughts f2dec0
"Hearing 8c8ba9"
"Speech 81a296"
(other b5aa99)

[kousei ♚]

~Hades Birch~

I hate this suit. I hate this dinner, the suit, the desperation. I think these kinds of sad points in life are the reason adults feel the urge to drink alcohol constantly. This dinner simply screams desperation. This dinner is a banner that has been flown up into the sky that spells 'desperation.' And that is why I don't want to go, we are asking for their help, a family that I barely even know. I don't really see what's so great about them that we absolutely have to go and see them and it requires every single person who has Birch blood flowing through their veins to attend. I could be doing so much more right now, so much more, something much more productive.

I am such a robot.

My father said I had to go to this dinner and I simply said yes despite my distaste for it. And to make it worse I have to wear this brand new suit and I didn't even argue, just a simple, obedient 'Yes father' and I took it. Despite how freaking ugly it is I agreed to wear it because I am a mindless machine with no opinion of his own. No, that's not true. I do have plenty of opinions, like my opinion on this suit, I think it's ugly but I just can't voice my opinion. And honestly, that's probably sadder than having no opinion. But I feel like it's my obligation to obey, to be the best.

I finish doing up my tie and take a look at the monstrosity in the mirror that is me in this black suit. It's a white shirt that absolutely had to have the top button done up to my throat so it constricted me like a snake, leaving me trapped within it's confines forever for the rest of the night. My shoulder-length brown hair has been sleeked back so it's neat, bright and attractive. The trousers are pitch black but have faint, grey stripes decorating them and I don't even know what to say about the shoes that ar trying to suffocate my feet. Plain, black and look more like flippers, the front of the shoes pointing up towards the sky, as if they're trying to direct me somewhere, to heaven?Probably pointing me to heaven, if I get seen with these clothes on I'll probably kill myself.

I scowl at the Hades wearing the suit but he only seems to scowl back, as if he thinks this is some sort of stupid scowling contest. What am I saying, it's my stupid reflection. Maybe I just want to believe this is a separate person to me, that it's not actually me wearing these ugly clothes and it's only someone that looks like me, he's going to the dinner not me, yep; he's going to climb out of the mirror, take my place and go to the dinner while I can chill at home. I'm being stupid again.

Honestly, I have no one to blame but Ares, Hannah, Beatrice and Cassius for this. Fuckers, all four of them. If they'd just won, if only they'd won then we wouldn't be so desperate, don't the four of them realize that we're looking like idiots because they died? Honestly, it all went downhill the moment that broadsword cut clean through Beatrice's neck; it only got worse the moment that glaive entered Ares' neck like a water melon and stuck out the other end. And now, now I can't even bring myself to look at any of those four's pictures, it would only frustrate me. They just couldn't be the best in those arena's, not like me, I can be the best. That's what I've worked for right? That's what I've worked hard for, to be the best so that when I can go into the games I'll come out with my heart still thumping and my head still attached to my shoulders.

Maybe I am being insensitive, but we the one suffering while they get to sleep in the ground forever.

I sigh and stride out of the the confines of my bedroom, finally accepting the fact that mirror-me won't jump out to save me. Maybe it won't be so bad, I might actually have fun. Hah! Fun, that's a funny thought.

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Okay I will admit, I was wrong about how rich these guys were. Their house is as good as, if not better than our house, I take the first steps towards hell the huge mansion and my jaw drops. I will admit, it is fucking huge, my brown eyes widened and my jaw hangs uselessly but when I notice I'm staring a little too much I quickly close my mouth and look towards the ground. After all, I don't want them to think that they've caught me in their cold clutches. I don't even know these people.

I find myself in their dinning room, at least that's what I think it is. Great, here goes nothing. I don't want to make any eye contact with anyone, I don't want to socialize, I don't even want to be here. I'm here because of those four, those four bastards who left us like this. I don't know, maybe I'm being unfair on them, it's never good to speak ill of the dead. Technically I'm only thinking it. But still, if they hadn't died I wouldn't be here, we wouldn't be so desperate. Even I have heard whispers in the hallway, in the training centre, in the streets.

They think I'm some sort of fucking washout.

And why? All because my last name is Birch. And now I'm here, with people I don't even know and I don't even want to know.

I should have fucking protested. But I didn't because I'm a robot who does everything his parents say. All because I want to be the best.

I swear one of the Blackmore's are staring at me as I try to take my place at the giant dinner table. He looks pale as a vampire and has sleek, short black hair and narrow black eyes. I try to ignore him by simply looking at the table, pretending to be pre-occupied. Thankfully we both get distracted by an blood-curdling scream that rings throughout the room and I'm surprised the windows didn't shatter. But then the high-pitched scream is shoved out of my brain by a rough thump and my head darts to see Milo in a violent scuffle with one fat guy, I don't remember him so I assume he's a Blackmore. The fuck?

She punched him in the face and somehow got the upper hand which is surprising considering the size difference. She holds a knife, it's barely been long and one of us has alreayd pulled a knife out on the other! "Hah!" I chuckle because it's just so funny. We came here to a powerful family in our District and one of us is actually threatening to kill the other, I don't know if it's stupid or brave. I could never muster up the guts to do that because I'm just a robot. But then my brother Terry takes it upon himself to interrupt Milo before she really starts trying to disembowel the fat man and he drags her away.

"The bastard deserves it. He deserves it for what he did." She screams and I wince at every word she says because it's not making this situation any more pleasant. In case she didn't know we were the desperate ones not them and trying to stab one of them isn't helping us in any way.

"Your girlfriend is fucking insane," The fat man speaks and it sends shivers down my spine and makes my hair stand up and sets my teeth on edge. The way he speaks, so uneasy yet so casual and I can't help but wince at every word he says. "In fact, her whole family is crazy. The whole lot of them. I bet they would all try to kill us if they could get away with it." He says once again and I bite my lip. "Well, shit.". Milo says after a slight awkward silence.

And then there's simply more silence and for a few seconds everyone is weightless, more weightless than the air it self, everyone is silent.

Well silence until I break it.

"To be fair, he's probably right," I say, smirking smugly despite how inappropriate it probably is to be smirking at a time like this, "Can I go home now?"

Narrative
Thoughts
Speech

I apologise for this post not looking pretty and such, I need to get a posting template for Hades.

[Deleted]

A B B I E B L A C K M O R E Why am I here? The question falls over and over in my mind as I smooth the edge of my dress, the pink fabric silky between my fingers. If I asked Aragorn or Tuff or Arendella why they were here, would they have an answer? I had an answer, one that wasn’t formulated from the air of hostility that flew about. An answer that was real. I was here because of an interest, an interest in observation. See it’s almost like a mathematical formula: you take two of the most prominent, ruthless families in the district and you lock them in a room for a few hours (metaphorically, of course, I don’t think the doors are locked… remind me to check that later), what do you get? You don’t get the square root of x or y to the fifth power, no, you get chaos. You get plates smashed against the floor and knives in the wall, and that, that alone, is why I am here. I mean it is our home, so why do I feel so threatened? They should be the ones to watch their step, because if the Birches are walking on anything, it’s thin ice. I sure hope they don’t mind the cold, as they’re sure to fall through at some point or another. But even more than that, it’s even more likely they’ll implode upon themselves. With the loss of Cassius, Beatrice, Hannah, and Ares, why wouldn’t they? They were on the bottom of it all now, almost successive years of loss. Whereas we, we hadn’t lost anyone or anything. Except maybe our sanity, although that was gone years ago. That was one thing we had in common with the Birches (even though it pains me to say it). We were all lost. We had all fallen down with nothing more than family to pick us up, or kick us back down for that matter. But our similarities don’t hold us together for long, no, it’s only a moment before the ice shatters. Shouts of anger and hostility fill the air, and its only instinct that puts my hand to the knife tucked neatly in my belt. My mother had advised against it, saying it was unladylike, and I had retorted with “It’s the Birches, I think being prepared is better than being ladylike.” Besides, when had this family ever really followed the rules of being ladies and gentlemen? The answer is never, in case you’re wondering. We all pick at our food and put our elbows on the table and keep knives on us at all times. It’s what makes us different; it’s what makes us unique. Just like the Birches, we stood out, and that’s what makes this situation so much worse. Two groups of people who believe they’re at the top of the totem pole, and the only way to assert that is by knocking someone off. In the name of family spirit, I hope we prevail. Don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of someone taking a knife to someone else, but when you can’t see it going on, it’s no fun. As I am a resident of this household, I do believe I have the right to push and shove my way to the front. So I do-- and when I get to the front, I am not surprised to see Tuff at the front of it all. It’s almost disappointing. What isn’t a letdown, however, is the sight of a girl younger than me kicking and shouting at him. You don’t always see someone standing up to Tuff, and honestly, it’s nice to see. I’m impressed by this girl, empowered even. I lean over to Arendella, who is watching with the same interest as I, and ask, “Now, who is little miss feisty over there?” It’s not supposed to come off as rude sarcasm, but it does, as does almost anything I say. As much as I would like to busy myself with something else, something productive, I can’t seem to take my eyes of the scene at hand. It’s just too entertaining. It’s like the scene from a badly directed movie, like no one could decide on lines and in turn just jumbled them all together. It takes all of the little self-control I have to not yell out “cut” and start criticizing people on their acting skills, but then I realize this idiocracy is actually happening, and that this is not staged. I rock back on my heels and look around, and it makes me slightly more amused to see others with the almost identical expression scrawled across their faces, and for once I don’t feel like the only one in the room with unrefined sarcasm pouring out across every thought. I’ve always prided myself in being different, but it’s only taken me a moment here to realize I’m not that different from the people I talk down to. And honestly, that’s scarier than the knives or the shouts of anger or the thin ice that we’re all walking across. template by chelsey

[Cato]

Apollo Birch

"Dialogue"
"Hearing"
Thoughts
Narration

Tonight my family will be meeting the Blackmores at their house. Why must we meet other people. To me it's quite obvious our family is losing the respect they once commanded in this district. I hate the reputation we now have. Weak. That's the one word that comes to mind when I think of my family. Cassius? That disgrace died early in the games. The man should have made it out of the bloodbath. Instead, Cassius died in right away. HIs death sickens me. Beatrice? She easily wiped the floor of the other tributes with her potential, but that's just it. All she had was potential. She may have gotten kills, but didn't last as long as I knew she should have. Beatrice sickens me. Then there's Hannah. That girl killed two people right away in the games. Died hours later. Ares the one family member that I thought had a chance of winning. Instead my cousin got cocky.

Why then do I still miss them? As always, I'm here at the academy. This place is more home to me than my own house. I refuse to be near such useless family members. Look what happened to the strongest Birch. Dead in the games after one mistake. If Ares can die what chance do they have? They don't seem to have a care in the world about going into the games. I'm the only one training to avenge their deaths. All my family is worried about happens to be restoring what little respect our name has. Everything around us is crumbling apart. Is that my fault? Hell now it's not. I'm doing all I can to make sure the Birch's have at least one fit member to sell their soul to death. Right now the only lucky Birch just happens to be me. I'd celebrate, but I'm too busy strengthening myself for war.

I wonder what my family will think when I don't show up to this pathetic dinner. Like I care. All they seem to want would be to restore our so called honor and respect. We don't have any of that anymore. Our actions not words will be what redeems us. A simple dinner will not fix that in the slightest. Still my family clings to what little respect they have. It's quite sickening to me. My hatred is simply too strong to remain stationary so I head to the archery section of the academy. I pick up the same bow that I use every time I'm here. The quiver of arrows that were nearby don't last very long. Each arrow I sink into the dummy slowly calms me down. For every arrow in the dummy, I imagine each wound to be my family. I want to kill them for not honoring my cousin Ares. They're more worried about food rather then a proper funeral. Maybe I should show up anyways to cause them some trouble.

I sling the bow over my shoulder and grab another quiver. I vaguely remember the directions given to me so this place shouldn't be too hard to find. What kind of trouble I want to cause will be another thing to figure out once I get there. Something tells me I'm late to this dinner. My own fault, but maybe this will add to my planned mayhem. The Blackmore house comes into view. A wicked smile forms on my face. Now is the time to ruin everything. I creep toward the entrance on the lookout for anyone, but I don't see a thing. Everyone must be inside. Works fine for me. My feet step through the door when I hear voices. Trouble already? I make my way toward the voices when I notice Milo Birch smacking who I assume to be a Blackmore right in the face. Perhaps this cousin of mine has some fight in her. "The bastard deserves it. He deserves it for what he did." Milo started the fight from what I've noticed, but I'm still way too pissed at every one.

"This is what you came here for Milo? More concerned with food rather than mourning our dead cousins?" I can feel the anger coursing through my veins. Here my family is busy with a dinner instead of preparing a funeral. "You're more worried about a damn dinner. What about Hannah and Ares huh? Ashamed to admit they're family?" I find myself closing the distance between us. Before I know it my hands have notched an arrow and it's pointing right at Milo's throat. "Just give me a reason to release this arrow. You're more concerned with forgetting who we lost instead of remembering." My fingers tremble not with fear, but with excitement. Surely I have caused some family drama. I want to release this arrow so bad. Milo needs to give me a reason to shoot the arrow.

[Dreams]

S U M M E R B L A C K M O R E

district 2 | female | fifteen
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This is all so ridiculous. What are we even celebrating? This party is ridiculous, the Birches are ridiculous, heck, I'll even admit that the Blackmores are ridiculous. This green dress, layered with thin skirts and straps that have to rest on the edges of my shoulders so it won't lay so low, is ridiculous. Feeling so girly as it swishes around my knees is ridiculous, and the fact that I actually like the way my face looks with makeup on is ridiculous. The only things that aren't ridiculous are the worn pair of leather boots that adorn my feet, and I trust them not to betray my presence when I leave the room. In them I can feel the cool feeling of the knife, because I know it will happen. I don't want it to, but it's inevitable. Though I thoroughly hope I'm not the one to fall, to let my temper control me. Yes, if I climb too high, I will surely lose my footing and fall.

Of course, I have learned it's awfully boring to stay anchored to the ground.

My bed swells up around me, and I feel like if I lean into the mattress enough, it will surely swallow me up in a cloud of blankets and pillows. Part of me wants to stay in my room and to never leave until this occasion is over. I can only assume that at least half of the people attending will get drunk. It would be easy to simply say that,"Oh yes, of course I was there!" And, "Yes, what an absolutely crazy night it was!" And once I really think about it, I haven't made an effort to meet anyone outside of the Blackmore family. I don't know anyone apart from my siblings. I want to meet people. I want to have friends. Because really, the only person who has my affection is Aragorn. As my eyes study the intricate swirls on the ceiling, I realize just how pathetic I am. How pitiful and miserable i must be. I rise from the familiar comfort of my bed, flicking one last glance in the mirror and find the door handle that will lead me into reality. So I search the darkest crevices and rivulets in my mind and try to find any spare words I could possibly string into a sentence, and slip out the door.

I have to remind my lungs that they are supposed to inhale and exhale.

Tuff's jaw is smeared with the deep, sickening shade of blood, and there's a young girl struggling in an older boy's arms, screaming as of she's lost her mind. I stop in my tracks, and almost spin around on my heel and sink back into the safety of my room. I guess I shouldn't be surprised when two murderous families mingle. But I am shocked the inevitable happened so soon. I thought maybe it would be later, but what did I expect? Smiles and handshakes and laughter and the pleasant buzz of conversation? No, the tension in the room is tangible. The silence is overwhelming and uncomfortable and I wish I could blend into the walls of our house, but the silky green fabric isn't dull enough for me to disappear. I slowly begin to remember why exactly I don't have any friends. My tongue doesn't move willingly, my lungs don't want to project any sounds from my mouth. The spare words that I was looking for are lost or possibly never even there. I take a few steps out of the hallway, my hands clasped behind my back and my back resting against the wall. I can hear a few words but I don't listen. I walk over to the window, watching outside because I really don't want to be part of what's happening inside. I pull a chair underneath me and prop my elbows on the window sill, prop my cheeks on my palms.,

I see a figure approaching the house, with objects slung to his back.

A bow and a quiver is what he carries. By the arrogant swagger in the way he walks and the weapons that only suit this meeting all too perfectly, he can only mean trouble. I watch the doors expectantly until he barges in as if he owns the place. A look of anger and irritation creases his face and I want to look away but I can't because this is more exciting than trees swaying in the wind. He looks to the Birch girl and he looks even madder. His words are like venom, killing any chance of an enjoyable night in a few phrases. He bridges the gap between them and I stand up so quickly that the chair flips over. But I'm sure everyone is paying attention to the real action in front of them. He notches an arrow, and I can hear the small groan of the string as he pulls it back. "Just give me a reason to release this arrow. You're more concerned with forgetting who we lost instead of remembering." He snarls.

I'm all too familiar with that maniacal look on his face.

The tremor of excitement running through him, and the evil glint of his eyes that would make me want to fold into myself if it were directed towards me. And then, a flare of anger rose up inside me. He was a Birch, and he was threatening his own family. He was willing to take the life of his own flesh and blood. Family was supposed to stick up for each other, like Aragorn did for me when Logan had a knife to my throat and when I dislocated my ankle. And, I hate myself for thinking this, but he should have that arrow aimed towards Tuff. But he doesn't seem to understand the concept of family. And that is a concept everyone should know, because no matter how murderous and sadistic you really are, there is always someone you care about. Whether or not you want to admit it, it's true.

Yes, I believe he has to learn the concept of family.

"Hey!" I start to make my way across the room. Don't climb too high, Summer. Don't be an idiot. "You know, I really didn't expect this whole stupid dinner party to be peaceful, but that doesn't mean you have to go out of the way to disrupt the little toleration we all have for each other. Much less threaten to kill your own family member! I mean seriously, who does that?" I find my eyes sweeping the room, lingering on Logan a second longer than the rest. I try to ignore the burning in my cheeks. "There are so many lines marked out in life, and being responsible for murdering your own family is absolutely out of the question! So please, if you would, put away your weapon so this night isn't a complete disaster. I really don't want to wash blood out of the carpet." I found my spare words. My voice seems too calm to match the rage in my eyes.

I am standing in front of the Birch girl I don't know and my eyes lay unflinching on the arrow that could kill me if the boy finds me frustrating. And I don't want anyone to know, but I am terrified of the situation I have put myself. I regret climbing so high, because if I reach up for one my rung of this ladder, I will plummet to the ground.

template by chelsey

[k!ah]

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This was going to be interesting. I knew it was, each year it as. I always looked forward to this occasion,my blood buzzing like it had been shocked with sudden volts of electric. Tonight was the Blackmore and Birch dinner party. It was held each year. each member of each family expected to attended. This year it was to be held at the Blackmore mansion in a room specially catered for this event. The path was to begin in a few minutes and coming along to this party would be drama and excitement and things that always made the beating of my heart increase. One year my mother had gone to one of these event expecting a peaceful outcome only to come face to face with the man of the Birch house locked in his arms as she spat venomous words at him. They had gotten into an argument over something petty, something that probably wasn't even worth fighting over- but still. When two families who are both ruthless, who both want to be on the top of the latter, unite for one night, things aren't going to go all smooth sailing and rainbows in grassy paddocks. No. There was going to be cracks in our bridges, and those cracks where gong to shatter and break apart and my family is going to want to catch those pieces just as much as the Birches. Heads are going to clash and I am going to watch in amusement as all the termites and rats lash ready to rip ones throat from another.

The suit I wore tonight was one that fit the occasion well. Just like my other family members, my suit was neat, at was sleek and perfect. I watched as logan came down into he room. He too was wearing a suit- well he had no other choice really. If he weren't I would have gouged his eyes out before sending him back to get changed. And he would get changed. I knew he would- because if he dare undermine my authority in this house I would not think twice as to kick him from the house and send him to the streets. Where he would live in poverty. He would have no home to come to. He would no longer be part o the Blackmore family- he would be a stranger. And the Blackmore’s didn't like strangers, actually, we killed strangers often.

My cool gaze pins to him and I can read the hatred and dictates that etched all over his body. H didn't want to be here. No one, bar myself, probably wanted to be hear. Party pooper. Thats what they all were. Why couldn't they just let loose a little, cause a little drama, threaten to ip each others throats out before throwing a few ounces. They were all savages anyways. Each and every one of them. They were dogs, untamed wild beasts. I hated wild animals. They made me feel ice. Even looking at my family I felt sick, sick at the way they feasted off the flesh of other human begins. Animals. They were no better than wild animals. In a way, despite everything, I was almost embarrassed to present them to the Birch’s.

But then I remember that the Birch’s themselves are an embarrassment. How many chances had they had? how many chances had they had to bring home the glory. Four? Five? And each time they had failed. They claim to be ruthless beasts who slay people from breakfast lunch and dinner- but yet they have failed even to make it to the finale in every games that they have taken part in. The Blackmore’s on the other hand aren't fillers like that, they have lost to the capitol and I did not plan on doing so either. We would bring home that glory, our name would be known not only in our district but in all 11 other districts. People would cower at our name, and they would be awed by our presence.

My thoughts are interrupted as people begin to file into the room. My eyes catch sight of a red headed boy, a young girl and a few other unfamiliar face which I knew to be part of the Birch family. I watch has faces glanced around the room, the families milling around rather awkwardly as they tried to understand why each of them were here. It was annoying, frustrating even. They were here to have fun, here because it was a tradition of these families to get together for a gathering once each year. Sighing I wander open to an empty chair in a quite corner of the room. this was going to be a long- Well well well, I must have spoken too soon because as soon as I sit down a small head begin to bobble amongst the crowd. It was moving fast and after a moment in clashed with the plump body of my brother, Tuff. Instantly my mood darkens as I watch Tuff. Ugh. I hated him. I hated the way he pranced around like he owned the place, I hated his fat chubby face, his sour smelling breath. But most of all I hated the way whenever he talked he sneered, his words leaving prickles in the skin of people around him. He may be my brother, my twin brother, but I couldn't care less about him.

I watch as the girl pulls out a knife and pins it against my brothers throat. Maybe if it had been any other member of my family I would have gotten up instantly. I may not have loved my family, but I could tolerate them, after all they shared my blood and thats what mother would have wanted. She loved each and every one of us, and it was her with to me to keep us all together. But Tuff, Tuff was another story, a story that didn't require a prince or a saviour.

Slowly I climb to my feet.

A harsh silence has now filled the room, the only thing that could be heard was the two animals growling at each other and the occasional murmur of someone in the crowd. I slink over to a wall, one that was directly opposite to where they both stood. I was far away enough not to cause a scene, but I was close enough to step in if anything was to happen.

“I cannot possibly imagine what I did to deserve such hostility from you. After all, you are our esteemed guest.” As soon as the words dribble from his lips my face is forced into a scowl. Just the sound of his voice makes me feel like I am drilling nails into my skull.

"Don't touch me." Instantly I am ready to move. Excitement bubble up within me. Yes. Yes this is what I had been waiting for. Tension, venom, drama, fighting. The girl screams tars running down her cheeks. At the sight of the girl and her obvious distress my mind begins to wander. What had Tuff done? what had he done to get a reaction like this from a mere child? But before I could even think about anything else the girl rips herself from his grasp snakes up her knife and presses it to his throat once again. But there was something different, something more serious in the way her hand shook slightly as she held the blade. She was going to do it, going to kill my brother. A laugh almost slips from my lips. Like hell she was. I was the one who was going to kill him if time came to it, not this little brat.

I move to interfere, intending to rip that girl from my brothers throat and tear her a new one, maybe steal she shiny pearls, but before I even reach ten someone has the girl by the arms and is hauling her off my brother. My yes become slits as I watch the man carry the girl away. Then I turn them on Tuff. I walk over to him, my eyes colder than ice. I lean down and grab the front of his suit, hauling his body up so that our faces were barely centimetres apart.“You let a girl disarm you. You let a child get on top of you. You let a child almost kill you. You are disgrace to this family.” I spit at him. I was tempted to do much worse but I manage to rein myself in resulting to throwing him to the ground once again. I stand up straight and dust of my coat but when I look up a more bizarre scenario than before had formed. A boy, a Birch boy, had a nocked arrow pointed at the girls throat. But that wasn't the part that pissed me off. What pissed me off was the fact that this boy thought he could just waltz into my home with a bow and arrow. Who the hell did he think I was-

“Hey! You know, I really didn't expect this whole stupid dinner party to be peaceful, but that doesn't mean you have to go out of the way to disrupt the little toleration we all have for each other. Much less threaten to kill your own family member! I mean seriously, who does that? There are so many lines marked out in life, and being responsible for murdering your own family is absolutely out of the question! So please, if you would, put away your weapon so this night isn't a complete disaster. I really don't want to wash blood out of the carpet.” Summer. The sweet innocent Summer. I would expect nothing less of her than to interfere with something like this. Glancing over at her I could tell that she was raging, her voice had seemed calm and collected but inside of her a fir was building.

Silently I walk up behind her and place a hand on her shoulder. Out of all my family members I found Summer to be the one I had to protect the most. “Thats enough,” I whisper into her ear, before pulling away and walking over to the boy with the arrow. “Who the hell do you think you are, boy?” My voice is as cold as ice, my eyes flashing with annoyance. “Did your parents not teach you any manners? You are in my house, as my guest, and you wield a weapon. I suggest you put it down right now unless you want to lose those precious fingers of yours,” I snarl.

Summer was right. This guy had taken it too far, turning his weapon on a member of his own family. It disgusted me. Families were meant to stick together, they were meant to watch each others back. It didn't matter that I found most of my smily to be below the termites that ate at the wood in our basement, I would still protect them. This guys was a disgrace, a disgrace to the human race. “I expected better f the Birch's. After all you are meant to be one of the more sophisticated families... But I guess thats not that case, right, boy...? Put. It. Down. Now.”

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Aragorn Blackmore

Your pain, is my gain.

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[Deleted]

First of all, how on earth was she to pull together a show of false enjoyment for an entire night? The idea of spending a night’s worth of time more than she wanted to be enclosed in the same four walls as a Birch gently disrupted her stomach, but having to interchange oxygen with the entire vile species was altogether upsetting. Personally, she never had the unpleasant chance of meeting one, but it appeared equivalent to talking to a rotting armadillo for a few hours, which failed to bring anything but withering disappointment for the night ahead. The closet she ever made to a Birch, in fact, was the four that ultimately died, with the only correlation in the games being how pathetic they managed to look one after another. Bloodbath lamb, severed head, bloodbath aftermath, immolation pathetic Being grouped together on the same hierarchy ranking as the likes of obvious amateurs, however, felt like a personal assault, as if they somehow felt obliged of our attention since they have had ones at least get reaped. In all respects, Ares had at least made it to an interview, so they were gifted with some bragging rights, but they lost that once his murderer was killed by the high frightening thirteen year old girl from district five. Although sitting on square zero for years in a row was simultaneously horrifyingly boring and undeserving of gloating, a negative score was a debt, not a prize. Much like the pillows surrounding her, the uncivilized penultimate terrors were to be ignored, and better off below the head of a Blackmore. As each of her fellow siblings circled around the house under Aragorn’s will, serving to the ornate and lavish overcoat of a splinter house, Arendella remained where she pleased, comfortable and resting on as much of the antediluvian loveseat ‘s surface area as she could muster. The need to make these Birch ferals feel welcomed in her home failed to reign in her heart, the only place they belonged to her was in the backyard, 6 feet under. Besides, seeing one dead would probably be just as, if not more, pleasant than having to speak to one. Down to the vile feeling in her gut, she knew she was overreacting, that having to waste her night with a group of porcelain warriors and their amassed egos would fail to kill her, but she felt like she would rather it have. Eventually, Aragorn swept her off the seats in order to look at least a little proper, since apparently looking well to welcome a family far out of their league was mandatory. After creeping around until the last possible second, she slung herself into her room to change into the appropriate attire for the evening, which was altogether different from her idea of appearing in front of the bulk of them naked. Each second that passed was prolonged by Arendella, stretched out as far as possible to avoid having to throw away the rest of her day pretending to care of all the different problems each and every Birch was facing. Deep down, she felt that one of her siblings would step out of Aragorn’s well advised line, they always seem to do, which felt like the only semi interesting thing to look forward to of the night. Inevitably, she was summoned down to the where the happy occasion of longing for the dead was supposed to occur, the indifference seeping from her skin. Every step towards the grouping felt dreaded, elongated, like that the house had expanded with the addition of the Birches. As if on cue, a scrap of sorts breaks out with some little girl being carried away from Tuff, the sudden arise of interest seemed to float around in the air, but Arendella barely caught any of it. A Blackmore receiving a death threat was a normality, but nobody would ever get to touch one of them. Another ignorant child Birch said something along the lines of leaving, in which she had felt an enormous urge to respond to in a not so formal fashion. The words had fled her mind in order to be replaced with the phrase, “Now, who is little miss feisty over there?” At first the words caught her by surprise, as if a Chesire snuck up behind and whispered it in her ear, whipping her neck in a state of paranoia as if a wild Birch had crept behind her to say it. Instead the image of Abbie filled her eyes, filtering the what seemed like growing fear of the Mongolian breed of small children of the Birches out of her mind. Arendella’s eyes flickered before catching her breath and responding with a quick, “Aragorn bait,” and her reappearing estranging smile. Every time a tiny flicker of hope for some excitement appeared, the chances of Aragorn appearing from wherever and making the scene ever more dynamic were well, fairly high. Events like this always led to some drama and then a grand finale tucked in safely somewhere, which Aragorn managed to always drag out by trying to avoid it. Sitting back and enjoying the chaos always twisted her stomach a little, as if she was letting her siblings fight a war by themselves, but they could handle themselves, and Aragorn shut down her playing styles almost instantaneous anyways. On the other hand, it gave her a sense of appealing purpose, as if she was a hidden weapon rarely to be used, but watching things span out was almost as interesting as taking part in the fray itself. After leaving Abbie in the crowd of mudbloods and family stirred together, Arendella snaked to wherever the food was sitting. Gifts from the Birches to the Blackmores, gifts from the Blackmores to the Birches, either way, they were entitled to her at one point. Most of the aliment went fast once the fighting died down, and most of her favorites were grabbed first, but the tables have turned, now she grabs first. Lines of small pastries, a bottle or two of whiskey from the Birches, sandwiches curtsey of one of her siblings, each felt like a separate field of temptation for her to take a try of. At least one of each type of cake was nestled politely into the purse residing under her arm, like baby chickens being protected with utmost care, and a handful of sandwiches were slummed into the bag as well, not nearly as cleanly stacked. Her eyes, however, fell almost trances upon the drinks lying in front of her, whiskey sat in her house, but the idea of having somebody else’s before they could felt sweeter than it could ever taste. “You know, if you don’t share, you’re going to gain weight.” The voice was sly, caked under a unanimous tone of indifference she used often against others, but the voice failed to recognize as her own. Unless if Abbie managed to undergo a major case of puberty in the minutes she left her, it was far too deep to resign to the younger girl. “Fuck off, Birch.” She failed to care enough to turn around, to face the snake in the grass challenging her, mainly because she knew the boy had a chance to take her off her high horse, and being unmasked would ruin the fun. With the man seeming to leave, Arendella attempted to glance at the newfound Chesire, but her eyesight failed to grasp at anything more than orange hair.

[Deleted]

THADDEUS BIRCH FOURTEEN DISTRICT TWO

Milo's screams pierce my eardrums as I stand quietly at the back of the room in my stiff tuxedo. I was forced to come here tonight. I had the urge to hold onto the front door like my life depended on it and scream until I was allowed to remain at home. Right now, I want to tussle my neatly combed hair and cut my tuxedo off my body with the small knife tucked away in my pocket. And after I'm done cutting that wretched tuxedo off of my body, I would burn it. Tonight is supposed to be a celebration, but it's already turning into a fight fest. Milo has a knife against Tuff's throat, ready to slice through his skin and end him. Terry pulls Milo away from Tuff. Milo isn't giving up without a fight. "Put me down! The bastard deserves it. He deserves it for what he did." But Terry is not listening to Milo's protests. Terry murmurs something, but I'm too far away to hear him. I make out the words "not" and "doubt," but that is all. The Birches are fire, and the Blackmores are rain. We don't mix. We are destined to be enemies. Milo looks at Tuff, and then her family, and then to Tuff again. "Well shit," she says. Yes, Milo, well shit. You've just destroyed all hopes of having a peaceful, somewhat enjoyable night. It's bound to be a war now, a war between two powerful, large families, both who are capable of murder. There is silence for a moment, but it is broken by Hades. "To be fair, he's probably right." Hades smirks smugly. "Can I go home now?" Judging by the looks on practically everyone's faces, we all want to go home. We're all forced to come together and . . . what are we doing again? Making amends, mourning Hannah and Ares? I don't see why we can't be a normal family and mourn on our own, without the Blackmores. There is not much to mourn. I didn't know Hannah or Ares well. They were just . . . there, like most of my family. I had no special connection with either of them (I don't have a connection with anyone). I'm certain that at least half of us Birches don't hold any sad feelings when it comes to the deaths of Hannah and Ares. They had it coming - volunteering, what were they thinking? Didn't they know that the Birches were cursed? We'll never have the crown. And hopefully, as long as the Birches stay devoid of a victor's crown, so will the Blackmores. I won't be able to stand it if any of them are victorious in the arena. I can't imagine the torture I would have to endure. Decades of bragging, basking in glory and the spotlight, bathing in riches. I would end up gutting the Blackmore victor, but I'm sure another Birch would beat me to it. There is more chaos, and I see Apollo threaten Milo with a bow. Summer Blackmore intervenes with a statement of peace that ends with "I really don't want to wash blood out of the carpet." I roll my eyes as Aragorn Blackmore chimes in. "Who the hell to you think you are, boy?" says Aragorn coldly. “Did your parents not teach you any manners? You are in my house, as my guest, and you wield a weapon. I suggest you put it down right now unless you want to lose those precious fingers of yours." I'm about to open my mouth to speak, but Aragorn continues speaking. “I expected better of the Birches. After all you are meant to be one of the more sophisticated families . . . but I guess that's not that case, right, boy . . . ? Put. It. Down. Now.” I can feel the tension in the Blackmore home, and it makes my stomach stir and flip over. Be a Birch, be a Birch, I think. Be a Career. How does a Career react? I have been pretending to be a Career for some time now, so I should know how to act like one, but at the moment, I am lost. For the first time in a long time, I speak my mind. "Why don't we all toss our weapons outside," I suggest. My voice starts out quiet and timid, but with every word my voice grows louder. Heat rushes to my face, tinging my skin pink, as I am racked by waves of nervousness. I stand up straighter and square my shoulders before I speak again, this time more confidently. "It would benefit us all. You know, to avoid death and/or severe bleeding."

it's to cold outside for angels to fly, angels to fly, angels to fly, to fly, fly. For angels to fly, to fly, to fly. For angels to die.

X

[minie]

C A M I L L E B L A C K M O R E I slumped down on a chair in a corner of the place. I didn't want to go to this stupid party, who cares if those stupid birch losers died. But of course I was forced in the stupid dark green dress, the only one I own. It was strapless and it felt so tight on the top. It went to a little bit higher than my legs and it was sort of puffy and cringly. I looked stupid in it, it didn't go with my blond hair, or my attitude in general, but I knew I had to look nice tonight. I let my long blond hair loose and it was always in my face. I spent pretty much the whole time that I was already here, blowing it out of my face. I watched everybody, my siblings and the birches, just create an akward atmoshpere. My seblings all seemed not to be having fun here, being just like, why? I was in the same mood, it wasn't our fault the Birches died in the games. My arms were crossed across my chest and my blond hair fell yet again into my face. Instead of blowing it out again, I stomped my foot on the ground and let it stay there. I really started to think my hair had a brain of it's own and also didn't want to be here. I didn't want to comunicate with any of the people, I mean why should I, I barley knew any of them except my family. Tuff, seemed to be harrasing one of the Birches, and thw worse part, I actualy knew her. I was able to hear how he acused her of being Logan's girlfriend, which would explain why she wanted to know who I was the otherday, still I didn't like her that much, to be honest I didn't like the Birches in general. The fight between them seemed to be like watching something on TV, and it was hilarius, I didn't care if Tuff got punched anyway. The night seemed to get interesting, and maybe, just maybe I could find a way, to make myself part of the drama it seemed like so much fun. Another one of the Birches also seemed to to be getting mixed in the fight. I stood up from the chair I was sitting on and started walking, my black boots could be heard from all over the place, they were extremly high and pointy at the bottom. The shoes made me even taller than I already am, and I am normaly tall. Once again I pushemy hair out of my face so that I could see where I was going. "Now now Tuff, that's not how we treat a girl don't we?" I told my brother with a hint of fake dissapointment in my voice. I turned to the Birch girl "So your Logan's girlfriend?" I smiled innocently "Which would explain why you met him and didn't die, no offense sweety, you just don't look like fighting materiel" template by chelsey

[k!ah]

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Today was not going to be a great day. It was the day of a grew gathering between two powerful rich families, the Birch’s and the Blackmores. It happened every year and every year the same thing happens. A fight breaks out and the night ends with the raised voices of people attacking each other with harsh words. Sometimes even physical fights break out and at times like that I tend to flee to the corner of the room. I was small compared to everyone else and by no means did I want to get in the way. Sighing there is a knock at my door followed by the cold voice of my brother. “Get ready, brat. You better be out here down stair ready to welcome our guests in 40 mins.” I scrunch my face up as he talks my hand moving like a chatterbox. It was fun mocking my brother- when he couldn't see it. “Oi, did you hear me?” He demands and I roll my eyes.

“Yes, yes, yes. Whatever. I’ll be ready.” I could practically feel the anger through the door. He hated it when I spoke to him like that, wait no, when anyone spoke to him like that. I half expected him to bang down my door and strangle me to death, but to my surprise he just grunted and walked away. He must be pretty excited for tonight. He always was- one of the only people who are. He loved the tension, he was a sadist and craved peoples dramas and pain. He was crazy and I hated him just as much as I hated the rest of them.

Climbing from my bed I wander over to my wardrobe where I pull out one of my nicer looking dresses. I have never been one to keep clothes for occasions like this, I preferred to dress in my denim jeans and flannel shirt, not this glamours dress and fancy shoes. But I knew that if I didn't retreat from my room in something half decent Aragorn would rip me to shreds and my life in this household would go from bad to hell. Reluctantly I slip out of my clothes and slip into the pale green dress. It fell to just below my knees with thick spaghetti wraps o hold it in place. I wasn't as beautiful as Summers dress, or Camilles, but it would do. I love to my mirror and have a quick peak at my hair and by the word of god it was a mess. I ran a hand through it to try and flatten it, but it was no good. Shrugging I just let it be, my short scruffy haircut looking worse than usual.

In less than 40 minutes I am running down the stairs and into the hall where the party would be held. I look around and see a few of my family members milling around, instantly my face turns sweet and a loving smile is plastered to it. It was all fake, but they wouldn't be able to tell the difference. After all I have spent hours in front of a mirror every day to master the expression of fake joy. I see Logan, Camille, Arendella and I feel sick. I hated them, everyone of them. My mask drops for a moment as I give them a look of disgust before wandering over to one of the many food tables where I begin to pick at the food.

By now people from the Birch residence had started to fill the room and of course the tension builds. Gliding around the edges of the room, my hands full of delicious food, I watch as the girl known as Milo confronts one of my older brothers Tuff. Tuff was a pig, I remembered tat day when I had been spying on the three of them (Tuff, Milo and Logan) in the hallway. Logan hadn't arrived yet and the poor girl meet my monstrosity of a brother in the hallway. He had attacked her shoving his fat sweat body against hers. I had been disgusted to watch has hit fat absorbed her small frame. He had then continued to suck on her face with his thick fish lil lips and thats when I really began to feel sorry for the girl.

Now though, she is the one attacking him, I watch as she presses a knife to his throat, it looked like she was about to kill him. Something inside me began to glow with hope. Kill the bastard, you can do it. Kill I encouraged to myself. But before she can even do anything a man drags her away from the fat boy. My hope dies and is replaced with a thick sense of disappointment.

I watch as Aragorn walks over to his twin, his arm twisted in his shirt as he spits words of rage into his brothers face before throwing him to the ground roughly. And oh there it issss, brotherly love, I mock to myself shoving a rather delicious piece of cake into my greedy mouth.

But this, this isn't even the beginning of what is about to come, because suddenly there is a guy with a nocked arrow pointed at Milos throat. What the fuck. Who even was this guy? A frown furrows my forehead as I watch this guy spout some andy words and threaten to rip her throat out with his arrow, all the while my laughter threatening to burst from my lips. It was as though I was watching a movie from the side lines- one that was very dramatic. And of course Summer, our little peace keeper, interrupts the boys lecture with her peacekeeping lecture which is only cut short by Aragorn who rips into the boy. But thats not all, soon another kid is getting involved, a Birch, who is also a peace keeper by the sounds of it, has his little spill as he tries to spread the love. I watch as the boy tries to get both parties to listen his small voice ever so shy only grows in confidence as he speaks. This guy sure has guts.

Smiling a slip another piece of cake into my mouth- maybe I was wrong, maybe tonight might actually be worth my time.

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Arwen Blackmore

Look what I have become.

template by Anzie

[Meghan]

The bitch attacked me first, that much was for sure. I could not really speak for the moments afterwards because soon the violent lines ceased to exist and we had both turn into predators. I intended to kill Logan's slut just as much as she seemed to intend to kill me. I was just inching my fingers up to her neck, ready to snap the little twig in half before she could drag her knife against my throat, when the fight ends abruptly. Some douche-bag, I guess it must have been a Birch, who I recognized from school, decided that the moment the pair of us were about to slaughter each other was the perfect moment to intervene.

After that: chaos. Every single person in this room apparently thought it was their right to get between me and my business. Like they were some fucking saint and I was the fat moron. (I would admit that my spitfire words had been meant for rivalry, but as self-proclaimed sadists, the whole lot of them tried overly hard to diffuse the tension). I could feel myself grow fucking sick of it, and the anger I had tried hopelessly to suppress erupted in quick strokes.

"You all are fucking retarded." I chew on these words and present them to the crowd with a flourish. "Fucktards, all of you. It's no wonder we all fucking hate each other." I did not care that every person whose respect I was supposed to clamor after sat in this room. They were just as dimwitted as the rest of them and surely they did not deserve my attention. 

The girl reveals my sins for the world to hear in a shrill cry. The wench was quite annoying, and I could not for the life of me understand why Logan found her attractive. I suppose she was tiny and easily breakable, so perhaps he had some twisted fantasy of domination locked in his head and all he needed was the willing victim. Milo would shatter into pieces if pressed too hard, that much was clear. 

"Put me down! The bastard deserves it. He deserves it for what he did." Like she hadn't asked for it. What right did the whore have to prance into my house in skimpy clothes and sing her insults about me? I did not give a damn about her opinion, but still when I heard her calling me a freak, like she was somehow better than me, I snapped. One simply did not insult Tuff Blackmore in his house and get away with no punishment.

So I tried to scare her. I wanted to ruin her before the idiot Logan could have his way with her. She could be my chewed up meat, dropped onto the ground for the savages to devour. I did not care whether she lived or died, I just wanted her to be destroyed before she could make love to somebody who might actually be gentle.

"What?" I ask innocently, batting my eyelashes at her like I am some lowly girl. "What did I do Milo?" Her eyes are wide as she stares me down, and I can tell her next words will be venom. Everything about her is predictable.

"What did you fucking do?" Her voice is panicked now, and she struggles against her cousins arms. I can tell she does not care much for the threats on her life because she is too distracted by her own desires. It was fucking selfish of her, to ignore her family member like that. I was not surprised, however, and it seemed the situation was being resolved without her involvement. Birch and brother alike flocked to the pair of us, trying to keep the peace. 

Milo still cries like the baby she is. I have to smirk, even as my brother comes up to me and shoves me back to the ground, hard. I would deal with him later, for now I wanted to listen to the pathetic excuses that dripped from the hoe's lips. "You tried to fucking rape me, Tuff. Pinned me against a wall and tried to steal me of my innocence." 

Innocent? Ha. It was obvious she had planned to have sex with my bastard brother. There was no denying that much. Why else would she sport dark makeup and red lips as she pranced into our entrance hall like she owned the place? Must have thought she was going to get lucky. I would have let her get lucky alright. Except, perhaps not with the idiot she desired. I just wanted to show her that sometimes, you do not get what you want.

"Oh, throw me a pity party." I snip back as I raise myself to my two, unsteady feet. "It was clear you had come over to fuck Logan that night. Don't you dare try to act innocent."

Milo screamed again, and I wanted desperately to rip her vocal chords right out of her neck. Her next words were poison in the air, and I fought the urge to drive my fist through both her face and her capturers. 

"I am fourteen, you bastard. I don't know what kind of sick idea you have about me, but I do not intend to fuck anybody." 

Liar. That's all she is. A filthy liar. She was asking for it, begging for his tiny little thing. I could see it in her eyes the moment she looked at Logan with mock rage. They were about to go at it like rabbits and I did not care what she had to say at the matter. Even if she had not meant it consciously, the desire was still there. There was no use denying it. 

"Don't fucking lie to me." I spit, my hands cracking as I bundle them into tight fists. "Don't lie to me and your parents and try to pretend you are some saint. I saw how you looked at him." I was digging myself into a hole and I was sure Aragorn intended to murder me later. I did not care enough to stop. Let him try if he so desired. He might find himself hanging bloody and naked from a pole the next day, but if he wanted to try to kill me, let it be. "You want him, Milo. Don't hurt his feelings by pretending otherwise. You'll just make your chances of rolling around naked with him later  tonight less slim. Now that would be a pity, wouldn't it, doll?"

I look away, suddenly fully realizing that we are surrounded by blood-related idiots. Ripred, they really thought they had some right to save the day. I wanted to kill them. I wanted to kill all of them.

One person's phrases stuck out to me, reverberating through the room like they were some everlasting chord. Camille had decided to address me specifically. "Now now Tuff, that's not how we treat a girl don't we?"

I glance at her, my features riveting in disgust. In a way, I respected my siblings for their willingness to tear the world to pieces, but they certainly got on my nerves sometimes. What did Camille understand about girls?

"Yeah, because you are some giant expert on girls." I snap back, my face reddening. I ignore the rest of them, their petty words too stupid to be acknowledged. They should be thanking me for this fight. At least it means they can stop fucking pretending to like each other for once.

Good fucking riddance.

words: 1243

table made as a gift by Kiah. thanks, love. <3

[Cato]

Logan Blackmore

"Dialogue"
"Hearing"
Thoughts
Narration

Who in the hell thought it would be a good idea to have a dinner between two of the craziest families in the district. Surely not Aragorn. Hopefully not Milo either. I don't care what happens during this dinner, but I sure as hell don't want to be here. I don't feel like a Blackmore anymore. I haven't forgotten what Aragorn did to me so long ago. Always going on about family loyalty, but knowing him, he's the one who set Tuff up for his attacks on Milo. Still maybe this dinner will turn out to be something other than useless. Supposedly all of the Birches are showing up so I may as well wait for Milo. I must have dozed off or something because I now notice Milo is in the house. This 'dinner' is so boring I dozed off. She asks how I'm doing, but I close the distance between us before engulfing her in a hug. "How's my pretty little killer today?" I give her the warmest smile that I can muster.

Milo goes off on Tuff. I don't really blame her due to his actions that will always be unforgiveable to me. The fact that Aragorn has done nothing to him only fuels my anger toward him. He's allowed this to happen. If I tried something like this to another girl, I know he'd be trying to bash my face in. Next some idiot has the nerve to point an arrow at my girl? Wait my girl. She's just a friend. Well I can't hide my feelings from her any longer. Everyone else has picked up how I feel about her based off the yelling and screaming going on around here. "I expected better of the Birch's. After all you are meant to be one of the more sophisticated families... But I guess that's not that case, right, boy...? Put. It. Down. Now." Aragorn's words are the spark that sets me off.

"Yeah Aragorn because us Blackmores so much better. Why haven't you done anything to that pig Tuff huh? Allowing him to practically manhandle Milo is unforgiveable. You preach family loyalty yet allow this?" That's when I decide Aragorn is no longer the 'boss' of me. Us Blackmores are slaves in this house. Safe from the games? That's because we're cowards. Haven't lost anybody to the games? We are too afraid. At least Hannah and Ares had the balls to volunteer where we Blackmores seem to be afraid. I grab Milo's hand before she sets off who I assume to be her cousin. "Lets go to a different room. It's obvious we aren't welcomed here." I guide her away from the chaos fully aware of the eyes glued to my back. I don't want to live here anymore. Aragorn is a tyrant in this place.

[Meghan]

Milo Birch
Fourteen
District Two
1,127 words
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Meghan

Tuff vomits words like a cow spits up grass. It was a disgusting site to see, and I could not help but explode with anger with every insulting phrase he conducted. I could feel my loathing for him grow as every minute heaved by. There was nothing that could be done to change my mind. He was a goner in my head.

I had to wonder, for one fleeting moment, if Tuff and I would have been friends if we were born into the same family. He was so like me. Rash, stubborn, and unyielding. Quick to violence and fast to speak. Willing to kill or be killed, if the time came to it. We were similar, and the very thought struck my spine with daggers. I did not want to be like him, I did not want that yoke of slavery around my neck.

At least we had our physical differences. He was broad and fat, a rancid site if you asked me. I was tiny and flexible. Able to slip from the cracks that struggled so desperately to bind my soul to them. Yet the pair of us were alike in one way: we were both underestimated. Nobody suspected the ballerina china doll, fiery and passionate, but weak-looking and un-intimidating, to be a killer. They expected me to dance across the stage, carefree and completely and utterly innocent.

I prided myself on these assumptions. If they do not suspect you, then they cannot accuse you. 

Tuff saw right through my charade. It was obvious he did. His brother wasn't exactly known for being friendly, and the family was too sadistic to let just anyone in. I would never truly survive if I was the fragile sweetheart they claimed me to be. 

He did not have to make it so obvious, however. I did not reveal his entire humanity to the crowd. I refrained myself from spitting outright insults, and instead focused on his wrongdoings. He could at least respect me enough to do the same. Yet here I was, taking accusation on my character.

Of course I did not want to love Logan. The very thought of being near a man was enough to cause me to recoil. Though I had seen much darker memories, it only made me flush red with embarrassment to think of the things that Tuff tried to make me do. I would never stoop so low, and I at least had enough self-respect to wait for it. 

The truth was: despite my attempts to be a grownup, I was still positively a mere child. Not that I would ever admit it, but I had grown up afraid of the consequences that adulthood might bring. It was too tempting to slip into the shadows and let the adults make the boring decisions for me. I did not wish to leave this path anytime soon.

I ignore the arrow quivering at my neck. If I show weakness then they will no longer be afraid. People flock around my dearest cousin Apollo, shouting accusations and forcing him to choose between family and respect. I only ignore him. It would not help the game if he thought I cared enough to give him my attention. He could kill me. I would not stop him, if that was truly what he wanted. I had many reasons to deserve death and it was not my place to pick and choose my ultimate fate.

Still, I could not help but sigh a tiny sigh of relief when Apollo was shut down by our peace-loving relatives. It made me kind of sick.

"Better let baby Apollo here make his own mistakes." I told the crowd wisely, but I spoke no more on the matter. He could think what he wanted about my opinions, I would not justify myself to him.

My attention is caught by the girl I attempted to befriend. Camille was her name, I recalled.  "So your Logan's girlfriend?" She smiles at me, as if she had nothing to hide. "Which would explain why you met him and didn't die, no offense sweety, you just don't look like fighting materiel"  I glare at her, the anger and bile rising up in my throat once more.

"You know nothing, Camille." I promise, my lips curling into an animalistic snarl. "And I am not Logan's girlfriend."

I elbow Terry hard in the side and he finally releases me. I don't lower my weapon, but I do not attack either. 

"Stay away from me, Tuff." I warn, the ice-cold hatred clearly evident in my voice. "You don't know what I'm capable of." 

I could take advantage of them under-estimating me, if I so choose. But it is incredibly difficult when my pride bears its teeth for the world to enjoy. It would always be hard to fight my ego. 

I just need to escape for a bit and pretend that there wasn't a problem. I didn't want the whole party to be ruined simply because I was angry, even if Tuff did deserve it. My parents would shame me later on for ruining their chances at redemption, and I had no desire to be punished. 

Logan crosses the room to join us, and even though I am embarrassed at whatever our relationship is, I cannot help but smile at him. His face is a welcome relief in a sea of hostility. I give him a once over, appreciating the fact that despite everything, he is still just as strong and vicious as before. 

Logan yells at his brother and then surprisingly, takes my hand. My face grows redder by the second, and I know that all eyes are on me. He speaks to me, softly, and I cling to every word. "Lets go to a different room. It's obvious we aren't welcomed here."

I nod and let him lead me towards the door. Before we completely exit, though, I speak to the crowd once more. 

"Well, you can go back to schmoozing and pretending to like each other, if you want. Don't let me stop you." I give them all a sadistic smile, and then wink at Aragorn from across the room. I know he was planning this shabang, and I was not about to rain on his parade. If he wanted to throw a disaster then by Ripred, I would let him have his disaster.

It is quite a relief to exit through the doors and leave the drama behind. Logan and I walk a bit, just enough to escape the hall. 

I can't help myself when I throw my arms around him and bury my head into his chest. As strong as I want to appear, I feel weak from all the activity. I cry steadily, and let him support me. Ripred, I needed this. 

[Knuckles]

Matthias Evander Birch

Word, meaningless words bounce around the walls as more people enter the dining hall. Milo is screaming at someone, but her words don't meet my ears. People shouting at one another- and to think this was supposed to be a friendly family dinner. My eyes roll through my head as more and more people pile into the tiny, well large, room. Some people avoid the conflict altogether while others fight as they become involved. My feet scoot against the panel holding the walls together as my eyes flash carefully from one person to the next. My family stands here before me in the midst of those surrounding me, but they don't understand. The Blackmores will never understand the meaning of losing someone they love and care for in the games unless they suffer through it. It's a disgrace even sitting in the same room as them with their noses tilted high towards the sky like they are better than everyone- better than me. They are just as equal as ourselves, but they'll never grasp that idea.

The moment Apollo walks through the door trouble lingers in the air as he carries a bow over his shoulder. I can't take my eyes off him as he glides through the room with a mission- he's angry, and it's best to stay away. The fighting has ceased, but Milo still shouts incoherently. My heart skips a beat as the hairs on the back of my neck rise into the air. He's not afraid. He'll kill anyone as he almost killed me. My eyes glance around from person to person before turning back to him. "You're more worried about a damn dinner. What about Hannah and Ares huh? Ashamed to admit they're family?" My heart drops through my chest falling onto the floor. His words fly through the air with an icy chill slamming into my face. I don't want to be here Apollo. I want to be at home. I want to wait at the train station for Ares and Hannah, but I was forced. I don't want to be here. "Just give me a reason to relase this arrow. You're more concerned with forgetting who we lost instead of remembering."

My eyes close as more fighting breaks out and Milo shouts continuously. Something about someone trying to take her innocence. My hands ball into fists as my heart prances behind my chest. Milo is my family, and nobody is going to hurt her, not none of the fucking Blackmores, not Apollo, she's family, and not a single person deserves it. She's here at the damn dinner, I'm here at the damn dinner, but nothing can be done about it. My jaw clenches, tight, as my eyes glare at the fat pig shouting back at her. He's a disgrace for everyone here. My family went hungry in the games, and here this son of a bitch is hogging the food, shoveling it down his throat like he'll never run out of it. My neck cracks sending a shock jolting through my body sending numbness into my hand only for a second. My tongue runs along the front of my teeth. Heat radiates from my cheeks as my eyes look at the fool standing before us all. Nobody is deserving of this. Whoever thought this would be a fun dinner party is out of their fucking mind.

Red flashes before my eyes as I glance from person to person. Every last one of them are retarded- they are all stupid as they stand here fighting in front of everyone. Chills run down my spine while my eyes glare at the mess standing before me. Nobody even acknowledges my existence, which I'm perfectly fine with, but the fighting has to stop. My hands grip my pants tightly fighting, trying to hide how much they are shaking. My cheeks burn red as the yelling never ceases. It's a stupid idea placing both familes together, and everybody should know that. We all want to be the best, but what they fail to realize is, nobody is better than the other person. Not a single person should worry about life as they are pressing onward, but they all want to be the best. The Birches, my family, want to restore our honor lost in the games, and the Blackmores have no honor to restore. My teeth grind across one another as my eyes continue flashing around the room. Fuck it. Fuck everyone of them. Fuck them all.

My hand slams into the wall as hard as possible with a loud, joyful thud. I am not going to stand around as everyone fights. People need to stop, but it'll never stop until one of the families are on the top forever. My feet carry me through the room with a scowl plastered upon my face letting people who see me know I am not pleased. "You all should be a shamed of yourselves. Every last one of you. We're here for a fucking dinner party not a knock out brawl. People died. Ares, Hannah, Beatrice, Cassius they died fighting, and here you all standing with your hands prepped for slaughter. You all are a bunch of fucking pigs. You all sicken me." My voice flies from my lips zooming around the air wondering if anyone will hear my words. It's fucking retarded that they would invite us here just to destroy us. They haven't realized that it's already been attempted by the Capitol, and these little pansy Blackmores ain't going to do shit. They are all stupid, and I'll be damned if they lay a finger on my family because I will destroy them all.

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"Hearing 8c8ba9"
"Speech 81a296"
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