Swept Away [Mohs/Muffin]

[*]

Training. This time, it's something that one of my coaches is pushing me to do. I understand to the full extent of why because the games are a huge part of our lives here in district one, but at this time I don't really want to do this. My voice exhibits the tone of a seven year old that has to clean their room as I trudge down the hallway to the class. All the while, I sneak a peak into each of the rooms, hoping to catch a glimpse of the tv showing footage of the games. I long to have any chance to check on my sister, but I've not seen anything of her today. I've not heard anything at all and It makes me wonder if she's doing alright or not. Then again, they only really follow those that are not in good shape or about to fight like the other day when she was trapped in that huge fight on the train. The day those awful of rumors began. "Freak'in girls... you did this? You put my coach up to this. This training for first aid. Really? I'll get you back. This has to be some sick joke." The air storms through my nostrils as fast as it can without sounding a growl to go along with it. Two more doors down I stop in front of the wooden slate and stare at it as if I am in no need to stay. My options are being weighed down at the moment and so much that I place my hand on the handle and then pull away. "Maybe, the trainer don't know I'm coming..." Down the hallway, I catch a glimpse of several people coming. The three girls look familiar, but the fourth that is with them doesn't and it makes me curious enough to keep staring until the one in front waves at me with this snobbish motion. "Where ya going? Into hiding like your sister?" Without a word, I turn the nob with so much force and enter that the door swings inward widely and forces a rush of air to hit me in the face. There in the room, I spot several people already waiting and I notice right away that the teacher hasn't even graced us with her presence. "Good. She's not here." I whisper as I let the door gracefully glide back into place and walk to my seat, laying my left leg over my right one in a classy manner yet folding my arms up. The guy sitting beside me gives me a sideways glance and I instantly get a bad feeling. "Where is the teacher?"

[Muffinface]

Mohs Aurum

Teardrop on the fire fearless on my breath

Thin fingers stop, clutching a powdery piece of chalk as the female just sashays into the room. Her companions look older, the youngest being around fourteen as they sit, clustered around in a lopsided semicircle. In the back of the class he stands beside a fourth chalkboard, covered with lines both thick and small.

His form moves, parting the small pond of students as he approaches his own desk at the front, a few papers haphazardly scattered around the smooth surface of the wood. His digits point down as blue eyes flicker from name to name, ignoring those scratched off. Three untouched remain, and his gaze rises to meet the new girl's expression, a sigh passing through his lips. "Rhythm."

Not a question, nor an inquiry- simply a statement. He scratches her name away without any second thought. "My name is Professor Aurum." He limps forward, favoring his left side, snagging a silver cane from the desk he abandons. "You're about... Fifty minutes early to the next class." he adds, sarcasm thick in his voice.

God damn, they pull these kids younger and younger every year. Wait- that last name... Morales.

For a split second he is torn, his hands trembling as he leans upon the metal pole, breathing heavy for but a moment. Morales... One of their lost tributes.

He himself never saw her face outside of the Arena, but he could see the apparent relation in the curve of her jaw, the softness of her eyes. He inhales roughly, gaze slipping to the lines in the back that seem to make sense from further away- various cuts and gashes cover the body of a female as if laid out for autopsy.

"Just this once, Morales. You get one freebie. This is it. Don't be late next time." The ego deflates as he cringes away from her and wanders back to the chalkboard while the other students in the class turn and watch him leave, making eye contact with each other and mouthing words like 'What the hell was that?'

"John was late last week and Aurum physically threw him out of class. What the fuck?"

"Probably cuz this girl's so young. You know he has a soft spot for kids."


"How about you all shut up and get back to fucking work eh?" he snaps, slamming a fragment of chalk onto the wooden frame of the board, shattering it into a cloud of dust. The other kids jump a little, and get back to their notes, scribbling furiously, copying various terms from the front chalkboard.

[googlefont="Yellowtail:400"]

Table by Kire

[*]

Walking into the classroom late really wasn't my expected first impression. I think if I had made use of my ability to walk to go a little faster, then I wouldn't be so late, but I am not here of my own free will. It was a setup by people who feel the need to make me learn something that I don't want to in order to become top of my class or something. Who knows. The only thing that is bothering me right now is that the kid beside me can't keep his lips from raising on both sides but straining to keep himself from laughing for some reason. Then it hits me when I hear the footsteps walking from behind me and that's when I notice that all of the assumptions I had been thinking about were wrong. Number one, the teacher isn't female. Number two, the teacher isn't older. And number three, he was in the room. I clinch my jaw. My arms relax and fall to my lap, no longer stressing about coming in late. Now, I was getting a lecture. "Wonderful." He barely says anything until he goes to read the class list and he mentions my name. "Yes?" I resort to biting into my tongue when he speaks out about me being fifty minutes late for the next class. My eyes squint harshly as if I was fixing to get a lashing and then draw my eyes only to my hands that are in my lap. Embarassment is definately playing a part in all of this because I can feel my heart pound away as the class seems to only become one loud gymnasium I feel. It feels exactly like that one day when those three girls decided to speak out about that nasty rumor that has been going around. Only, this man isn't those girls and that man is my teacher. Then just like that, among the heart stopping fear that I was about to become the class example, he simply lets me off the hook and my eyes shoot upward at him with surprise. "Thank you sir." It's a sort of relief that I've never had before and another weird coincidence to happen since the rumors started about Rhyme. Why was a teacher being nice? Don't they usually treat all their students the same? Apparently until now cause the kids around me are stating other incidences that it hasn't been done before. I feel shrouded in the room now as if all the eyes are peering into me for doing something wrong. "What did I do?" I whisper out and shrug, pushing my attention to the teacher who has made his way back to the back of the room yet again. I'm actually quite clueless about what we are suppose to be doing until he shouts at the class to get back to work. They set to work busying themselves with all the words written on the boards and I slowly follow suit. Only, I pretend to write things down and slowly look around to my fellow classmates to see what they are writing instead. No instructions to follow, I finally raise my hand. "Professor Aurum. What am I suppose to be doing, exactly?" I confidently ask while turning around to meet his gaze with my own eyes. My eyebrows raise up with the question and then I glance around to the boy beside me once again who starts to shake his head and mumble something incoherantly. "I'm sorry for being late."

[Muffinface]

Mohs Aurum

Teardrop on the fire fearless on my breath

"Don't apologize. Accept it. Learn from it. Don't do it again." he grumbles as he finishes.

His hands rise, coated in a thick layer of chalk dust to run through his jet hair as he again turns, and sighs, allowing the exhale to catch in his throat. "Well right now, we're probably going to go over this." he nearly stutters, gesturing to the drawing on his board. "It's... A little too late for you to get the information up there, so we can deal with it later. Just try and focus for now. And you-" From his left hand, a thick eraser flies through the air and strikes the male to her left right in the face. "Erase that smirk off your face."

The class stifles laughs and snickers from behind hands flipped to their lips. "Seriously, shut up." he snaps at the kid who spits out tiny clouds of dust while the male crosses his arms and leans against the blackboard.

"Before we look over this corpse and how we could have saved her, I want to talk about what happens when you die." His eyes flicker down onto the pale color of Rhythm's.

"Isn't that all just speculation though?" a girl questions, her hand in the air as she asks the question.

"... Yes, but it's something that's been debated and studied for centuries, even before Panem was around. So I wanna talk about it with all of you since you'll be throwing yourselves away into the arena anyway."

Tension grows, a thick, unpenetrable fog in the room as the students glanced at each other, then to the newcomer. Whispers slip between some of the others in class, while their teacher continues to stare at them.

"Go ahead, share." He stops, voice laced with sarcasm.

"No, we were only saying... Isn't it your job to teach us something useful?"

Icy eyes narrow as he points towards the still-open door. "You can leave. Get out."

"But-"

"I SAID GET OUT." His voice raises to the ceiling until the kids scurry away, grabbing their bags and notes, hissing about crazed professors as they leave. The class, finally silent, watch them go until Mohs' shoulders relax. "Alright. So, it's been proven that when you die, your pineal gland releases this... Chemical called dimethyltriptamine into your system. Now we consider it a class one narcotic- it's hard to get, even down in dee-six. DMT is probably the most potent psychadelic we currently know of, almost like Tracker Jacker venom. Your body, your brain will produce this stuff almost every day. Get the drift?"

He inhales sharply as he steps gingerly upon his right leg, and guestures to one of the girls. "Stop that, don't take notes on this. Shithead was right- it won't help you in a life or death situation." The girl shrinks into her chair, pencil resting lightly on top of her paper.

"Right, so, this DMT shit. It's what causes us to dream. Why is it important to know then, if it won't save you? When you die, your body releases all of its stores into your blood stream. When you sleep, you get these... Tiny droplets, not even mililiters of the stuff in you. But when you die... You dream. That's it. The 'White Light' everyone reports is just you. But here's the kicker- for the last few moments after what we consider 'Death', the brain is still functioning, still firing."

"That means kiddies, when you die, you go to exactly where you would expect to go."

Blue eyes focus intently upon Rhyme, lips twiching in a downwards frown.

[googlefont="Yellowtail:400"]

Table by Kire

[*]

I'm actually surprised that he's not making me copy everything from the board two or more times for being late. Maybe when he said this was my only freebie, he was telling the truth. So, I simply sit back in my seat and give him a gentle nod while the class around me seems to be in an uproar for some reason. At least, I can feel the tension and energy from the eyes upon me. What's better is that the professor is actually pretty awesome the moment he throws the chalk eraser at the boy sitting beside me for for giving me all those looks and mumbling. Already, I've learned more about this teacher just from this small amount of time with him. Never be late, keep your mouth shut and watch for flying erasers. I bite the inside of my cheek in hopes that I don't crack a smile and catch his attention because that's all I need right now is to attract any more attention to myself then I already have. "Before we look over this corpse and how we could have saved her, I want to talk about what happens when you die." That word stops my breath cold. I completely freeze up. The only thing moving is my gaze as the professor, once again, eyes me with an attentive stare for reasons that I can't even fathom as to why, but I don't mutter a thing. Instead, I listen to the girl ask about it. She questions him with something that I would love to know and for what it's worth, it was a really damn good question. My mind is fully aware of the class now, no longer wondering if the kid beside me is making faces or complaining about me. However, the air in the room suddenly feels cold and a hard shiver runs down my back. Eyes peer at me and it only becomes noticible when the whispers start to erupt around the room. Why are they looking at me though? What have I done this time? I'm innocent, now. That's great too, because some girl challenges the professor's lesson for the day. It earns her a hard, and rough responce in the form dismissal from the class. My eyes light up, staring at the girl who wants to fight back with him in words and ways. I know better. I know that if I screw up just once, then being late will have been for nothing and that freebie has already been used. Silence is broken whenn Professor Aurum starts to decipher a whole meaning about a dream like halucinaginic when someone dies and for some reason, the topic is becoming a big too hard to swallow. My mind slips away for a moment. A flash of blood seeps into my memory then fades. Then a flash of my sister invades my thoughts but she's laying on the ground. The pictures that I seem to see only last a mere moment each time, like taking a picture and reloading. Mix those visions with the words of the professor saying something about the 'white light' and the person's mind is still alive while the body is dead. "No..." I state, quietly as I shake my head slightly, but snap out of the dream like state. A deep breath fills my lungs and the man utters something that really makes me think hard. Where do we go when we die? When they die? Those tributes that die without killing or those that do. What will happen to Rhyme in the future when she grows old and dies of old age if she was to have killed anyone? Again, his eyes fall upon me and the uncomfortableness sets in. I draw my arms in, hugging myself and bringing a leg up to nestle under my elbows. If everyone is looking at me, then I'm going to give them something to wonder. "Professor, what about when people die of old age? Do they still experience this? Say Rhyme comes back from the capitol and lives her life, will she still experience this DMV stuff when she's really, super old?" I question him which gets the class riled up again. To offset the students, I jerk my head around to each one of them, flashing them all hateful looks as I roll my eyes. "What is she talking about?" "Her sister is already de..." "Don't. You. Dare." I hiss at the guy. There they go again with that horrid accusation again. I halfway glare at the professor. I only am curious about hearing more, so I strike up yet another question. "What do you think that people dream about when they die? Have you ever been near death, professor? Have you ever experienced this DMV stuff?" A chuckle erupts from beside me. "Dimwit. It's DM...T. Not DMV. If he had experienced it, then don't you think he wouldn't be here would here to teach us about it? Dead is dead. Professor, I think she needs to wait a few more years before she is in here. She's too young." He whines.

[Muffinface]

Mohs Aurum

Teardrop on the fire fearless on my breath

"Thank you Diamond, for trying to tell me how to run my class, as always. First aid isn't like sword fighting- I have students as young as eight. So, you can kindly shut your mouth until you have your own classroom." Eyes alight with a fierce flame he scowls, turning again towards Rhyme. "I'll answer all three. Yes."

The class holds its collective breath while he waits a moment. This healthy, young man suffered brain-death? The kids silent, curious, perch upon the edges of their chairs. "When the accident happened, I bled. A lot. It was so bad by the time the healers got there, I had no detectable pulse. For ten minutes. Blood loss does that."

His lips flatten down to a thin line. "But eight and a half minute of chest compressions later and Here I am, to grace your presence." His hands stretch on either side of his body, a grand gesture. "It was just long enough of me to experience it on a toned down level."

Carefully he seizes his cane and limps heavily forward, hefty footfalls pulling him toward the scratched desks. He lifts himself to sit, turning the chair from the seat in front of the desk around, allowing his legs to fall onto the surface. "When I died, I dreamed of my grandfather."

A faraway look rises to his face as he adjusts the cane, placing it between his feet. "He said some things to me, explained the path I took in life was wrong. I know it was all in my head, subtle... Feelings, subtle thoughts coming to the surface in the final throws of life. But... It all felt so real" His gaze slips to the ceiling. "I think I cried."

The class chuckles, a low rumbling sound echoing in waves around the girl. The thought of 'Mohs Aurum,' renowned hard ass crying like a baby is too hilarious to deny their prepubescent minds.

"Shut up." he snaps. "I was fourteen. Let's cut off one of your legs and see what happens. It'll be a great lab exercise." They grow quiet, and glance again at Rhythm, a group sigh hissing through the class. They'd all be held late because of her questions dragging on and on, for sure at the end.

"It was painless, however grim, or terrible it was. I knew what was happening, but it didn't matter anymore. I know it was all in my head, but I made a conscious... Or unconscious decision to stay alive."

He ponders her next question for a moment, tiptoeing uncomfortably around the subject. "It's... Not exclusive to the way you die, Morales. Old age, trauma, disease... It doesn't matter how. Your body is a really incredible thing- you abuse it, push it past its limits, beat it, burn it, cut it, starve it. How does it repay you? By slipping you away into the gentle caress of eternity. It's not like adrenaline, it doesn't keep you alive or send you into a fight or flight response. All it does is whisk your conscious away.

"Also, people see what they expect to see. If you think it's somewhere better, you dream about somewhere better. If you feel it's nothing, then you fall into an abyss. If there's some mystical white light, well... You get the drift."

[googlefont="Yellowtail:400"]

Table by Kire