Revive // Reintroduce [KATA]

[Kire]

Reyes Moreno

When I heard my name called at the reaping it hadn't been in my brother's screaming tone. There had been no one around, just a girl standing in the girl's quartered off area. I didn't know her name.

"Reyes Moreno."
"Reyes."
"Reyes."
"Reyes."

"No, no this is all wrong."

"Stark Harper."

Who? Must be the girl.

When we entered the Justice Building everything faded out of focus and then was swallowed by blackness. As the world fazed back in, it was clear where I was. "Aww fuck. Not this again." I'm back in the damn training center. My groan didn't do enough to encompass how exasperated I was by this. Here I thought I had ended all this yes- was it yesterday? Shaking my head, I start looking for some marking of the time.

Nothing, there were no calendars or news papers or anything that might tell me even the day, let alone the month or year. A lone clock ticked at me, snickering at my lack of knowing.

Psst Reyes.
Reyes.
Reyes.

"Leave me alone."

The clock didn't move, so I left. Everything was just how it looked when I had last been here, overly extravagant and stupidly expensive. I picked up a round vase, hefting it for a moment. There's a small twinge in my arm and I pull back my sleeve to reveal an ugly scar on my forearm. In an instant I am facing down Avon again. She had stabbed me in the forearm before I even had my weapon in my hand, but I had struck her again and again until the ground was red with her blood. My own blood had mixed with hers so that we were linked forever.

The crash of the shattering vase shattered the.. vision? and I stared at the impact crater in the wall. Seems I had thrown the vase as a defense against.. against Avon.

"Damn."

Not wanting to be in that room any longer, coated with layers of memories instead of dust, I throw the door open and charge down the stairs. Fuck the elevator, I need to work off what remains of the adrenaline rush that had flooded me. I only stop when I reach the training room because what I see stops me dead - or more accurately, alive.

I know some of these people.

And last I knew, they were all dead.

"Aww fuck. What is this?"

I'm looking for the cameras because I know this is some Capitol-rigged bullshit. How the hell could we have all come back from the dead, and who the fuck were all the other people. When was it. Last I known, I had plunged Avon's voulge into my chest and heart. I had ended everything, the Games, the misery, my life. Fuck, Julian better not be here too. Then again, he didn't die so there's no reason why he would be here.

We've barely started and it's already all messed up. Great.

[googlefont="Kaushan Script:400"]

[ghosty]

Chop chop, we gonna build a cabin
Up top of a pretty little mountain
Fuck off, all you people on the ground

The reaping was different. Not was it packed, and full of people. It was just me, and some boy, who looked younger, and familiar. Not any particular reminding factors, just him, I and two almost empty glass bowls, which usually held hundreds, thousands of slips, just holds one; the ticket to my second hell. The moment I hear my name, and take a single step, I feel the smile creep onto my face, and feel the animal desire again, the moment I turned to Someith, "Someith, I'm a fucking werewolf." I am a beast, with at least s little bit of style. 

I never thought I would see this room again, and it's as fucking boring as the last time I was here. At least, it's got some memories here, as well as faces, from other games, from all that have died. Just a look around reminds me of everything, but mostly careers; Dan Johnwayne, Circe Lyon. Gunner La Torre. Not from my games, but terrifying. All of them dead. I always thought dying was the last step, but the fucking Capitol even messes simple facts about. Death is final, you can't reverse death. Well, apparently, that is not the case.

It's not like I deserve a rest, but at least give me something reasonable so that I get some time off, to try and get rid of the hair your made me get, Captiol. A girl like myself has to look presentable to be on TV, killing all the sorts of people, and stuff. I don't want to be known as Wolf Girl for the rest of time, really. 

I see a boy run out from the hall, and, not having anything else interesting to do, I decided to follow. What's the worst that can happen? The best always out ways the negatives when men are involved. I see him standing there, and, with a smirk, I call out, "I feel some kind of spark between us! Like some kind of thunder? Can you feel it too?"

[Knuckles]

[googlefont="Satisfy:400;"]

Esme Truus

I'm awake I'm alive
Now I know what I believe inside
Now it's my time
I'll do what I want 'cause this is my life

One thing Esme knew for sure was the pain of standing in the reaping, but this time it was different. She remembered the tears that stained her eyes the moment her name was called. The goodbyes. Everything. But most importantly, she never forgot the train ride with Mace, Saffron, and Kirk. Sitting in the room in the back turned a horrible day into something spectacular, but even that one precious moment wasn't enough to save her.

Standing on the stage again, Esme looked down at herself. A broken girl. One trapped in the reality of the afterlife. Comfort of a new eye. A new leg. A new heart. It appeared the Capitol was done with her. Perhaps it was a foolish thought, but it was one that kept her going. Freedom was impossible living in Panem. It was impossible to explore the outer edges with the peacekeepers marching around - not once did she even consider stepping out of line.

But here she was. In the same room she was in before marching into her own games. How much time has passed? She wondered because standing in the afterlife made all time stand still. It didn't exist anymore. The old never grew older, and the young never grew younger. Not once did she age anymore. For her, she remained a fourteen year old. Before she was innocent, but now Esme Truus wasn't that innocent little girl anymore.

She had grown over the years. First making a kill when she wanted to run away, then killing her own friend. But none of it mattered because the spear was aimed towards her, and that spear killed her.

Footsteps rushed towards her. An man and a woman were running after one another; for a moment it sounded like a love affair. A small grin twisted across her face as she pressed herself against a wall. Silence devoured her. Becoming a sneaky person was important in the games, but going alone was suicide. She knew alliances were needed, yet Esme had nowhere to turn.

Chuckling silently, Esme watched as they ran by before carefully following behind them hiding when it was deemed necessary.

Ooc stuff

template by Anzie

[D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]]

{ galaxy rose-clements }

I'm reliving hell.

It's my name, again and the feeling of being half-dead begins to fester on my mind. This couldn't be happening, not in a million years because there is no such thing as immortality. Dead girl walking made to fight for a second time and for what?

Survival is no prize when you're a corpse.

History had a tendency to repeat itself in District Six. Even from my coffin I could tell the District had not fared well in the games. Perhaps it started with me: the redhead girl who gave it her all provided the fuel for fires to burn within Marchello Donner and Ellexias Verisity, Gabrielle O'Dale, Geo Venn and Wyatt O'Connor, Kitty Keeni and Jequirity Eckhart. 

Perhaps I am the roots of it all: victors do not come from District Six.

Now I stand heightened expectation on my shoulders. Like Atlas, the struggle in unbearable  but in death, I turned to stone. No flesh or bone hidden beneath my skin, just stone which fails to crumble. I will not let it, not this time, because even in death I have to give it my all.

x

Standing between one life and another, this is the worst déjà vu I've ever experienced. Beyond me stand some of the games most dangerous tributes, most memorable tributes and most loved tributes of past, present and future. Where is my place in this catastrophe?

Kendrick, Valerie and Tauankia are nowhere to be seen. Their faces are replaced by lost ghosts: Dan Johnwayne, Iago Izar-McClaine and Lalia Sycamore.

My rosebud chances were grown to die amongst the thorns of others.

Between the stars of history's best, there are faces I'd seen before in the darkness. Memories all come flooding back as I spy Jay Krearns from Four and Esme Truus from Ten.

Absorbed among the shadows, perhaps this was my place. A zone for the forgotten dead, branded as second-best. Shadows only for the unrecognisable shells of people that once were. 

"No hard feelings, right?" I say as I emerge from my aura of darkness, avoiding an apology for helping contribute to her inevitable death.

I don't want to feel it, but I'm still that girl.