cool kids ✺ finn/asa, blitz
Sept 29, 2014 22:23:03 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Sept 29, 2014 22:23:03 GMT -5
fionnbharr stoddard.
Despite being crowded with twenty three others all day long, being a tribute was surprisingly more lonely than I expected it to be. I mean, don't get me wrong, I wasn't expecting some crazy type-a flash mob one day and then a party the next, just something more than us grouped together in the same few rooms at the same exact times exactly all the time. It gets boring too, repeating the same cycle each day of "wake up for food, eat, wander the stations, sleep in the plants, wake up for more food, go back to the stations, eat, sleep." And in all honesty, after the first two days it all just blended together into the scheduled oatmeal.
See, Jael and I used to do all these crazy things - not like, super crazy, but like moderately super crazy, you feel - and it made it exciting; making book castles in the local libraries, trying to sleep in the park pond, climbing up random ladders near buildings (and then climbing right back down them, Jael was mad scared of heights, he never said it but I could tell it was pretty obvious) we never had a schedule. The two of us were two unorganized peas of the same pod of life, and it was great because each moment wasn't planned, it was just there. We got to act and react according to the shoestrings of our hearts instead of just all one prerendered heap.
The eating breaks were probably the least exciting periods in my opinion, they just seemed to drag on in a clatter that I wasn't apart of. Twenty four bodies in total and I sat alone nearly each day, just myself and a tray of peas. It's not that I don't have anybody to sit with, it's just that they all have other people to sit with; if I wanted to, I could probably find a new seat, somewhere other than the four-seat table seating one that left me staring at a blank wall - it was "pret-tea boring."
I sat in such a hard slump, Mother'd probably yell at me for bad posture before breaking my back if the position didn't first. To be honest, it probably only hurt so bad since I've been standing in a perfect straight line, more so than good posture could be considered, for almost two months (Jael said it helps with growing real tall, and I said, of course, it wouldn't hurt to try. I was wrong) Sweat started to line the creases in the hand that held up my face, while my good ole right hand scratched a capital 'F' into the table's surface. I've been one hundred percent of the butts in history of this week to touch this table, so it's only fitting to mark it mine in a way, even if my ownership had to be completely entrusted in one letter. Just the one letter looked awfully lonely and a little silly in a way, I guess.
"Good."
It was pretty lonely sitting by myself too, so the both of us might as well get used to it. Resting my fork on the pressumably clean table, I take a handful of peas into my free hand before sitting straight up like how my mother taught me with a smirk. As long as I had this 'F' I wasn't truly alone, but still one fact stood - I've never been in a food fight. I've never been in an anything fight, except for the paint fight a day ago, and odds are there wouldn't be a chance in the arena for any type of food anything either. And in all honesty, I wasn't aiming for a straight up food fight, more of just a 'me throwing food at somebody and then acting like it never happened so they don't retaliate so I can tell Cha and Jael about later' fight.
Picking a target wasn't difficult, there was only one boy close enough for me to have even a passing chance of hitting, and with a single bullet-pea pinched between my fingers I swear the accuracy which I threw it with could've made a career cry. And with the swift movement of casually breaking my neck to stare blank at the wall I felt a little bad for both the boy and myself: for the boy, because he probably has no idea who threw it for how good I was playing it off right then and for myself because I smashed my hands together, and with it the peas in my left hand into my right fist.
So there I sat, with a fist full of smashed peas giggling to myself staring out the corner of my eyes to the point of it actually hurting a little bit to watch the boy's reaction, but it didn't feel so lonely as it had two seconds ago. And despite blowing the whole incognito thing sky high, laughing in my own crowd felt better than sitting outside everybody else's.