a rigged journey {cameo/arrows/cato/rade}

[Knuckles]

W E A V E R

Weaver had said his goodbyes, and he walked angrily as the peacekeepers led him to through the district, and his eyes locked on the faces of the citizens some stared into his eyes. His blood churned inside him, and his heart pounded fiercely inside his chest, and his gaze dropped towards the ground. Fear crawled across his skin raising his hair as they loaded him into a car transporting him to the train station. Two years ago he stood at this station awaiting the train carrying his brother home. Weaver had always wanted to see the outside of the district, yet he never imagined this was how it would happen.

The car ride was slow, yet fast, and nothing was said. Weaver sat in silence with his eyes closed until the door opened, and the peacekeepers dragged him from inside. His body felt nothing as his mind was filled with rage. A red cape stood in front of him dancing around, and Weaver was ready to charge. He didn't even look around as he strutted from the car and headed towards the train. It was massive compared to anything he had seen in his entire life, and he wanted to know what the inside looked like. But this wasn't his. It didn't offer him the escape he needed in order to survive. This train belonged to President Snow, and Weaver planned on ruining it.

His eyes narrowed as he walked up the stairs before entering the train looking at what would normally be a breathtaking sight, but it wasn't. His hands clenched tightly into fists as he made his way through the cars staring at each individual item. Glasses and chandeliers hanging from ceiling. Lights glistening across the carts. Huge windows showing the outside world, but Weaver wanted nothing to do with that. He wanted to cause a scene to destroy the lives of those who've destroyed his.

A firm hand wrapped around a glass before lifting it into the air. The world stood still as he stared at his reflection hating what he was becoming, but this had to be done. What would Snow do, kill him? That was already on the bucket list. His face went clear of emotions as he threw the glass towards the ground as the door closed behind him, and the citizens were out of sight.

SMASH!

Shards flew in every direction as the glass shattered against the carpet floor. He didn't care what anyone said to him. He didn't care if they shot him dead right there because he was going to die anyway, and he knew it, and he didn't care if his death came sooner.

Made by Frankel

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

District 11 Female Tribute 73rd Hunger Games

Iona Holbrook my silence is my self defense, and also my greatest weapon.    Razor edges snipe through the train cart in every which way, though dodge any connection with Iona’s exterior. Her eyes widen from the rupture, but her expression is unusually distant from threatened. Undoubtedly Weaver pertains as much strength as the higher District males, yet she doesn’t fear for her life at this very moment. He appears ready to demolish this entire room, while his facial features solely resemble frustration. No, they have only begun their travel to a hazardous situation. Just as his shoes captivated her earlier, she continues to study his every action. What would become of them in the days to come? The likely outcome is not to be thought of, but to consider the middle chapters that enhance a Story? Character development, though Iona could swear she has never mentally altered. Thickening plot, destined to join in the forming sentences. And the Climax, which is hopefully waiting in the very distant future. The tale is unraveling from each angle around Iona, and she has yet to realize she has a role herself to fill. The shatter was relieving. It dispatched Iona from the mind that has always imprisoned her. She continues gazing Weaver’s direction with curiosity over his next move. Death is singing for them ahead, but sorrow isn’t polluting their oxygen. Unspoken pity was the only way her family understood how to react to any misfortune, making this change in response quite pleasant. Unexpectedly her fingertips brush against a crystal jar of sweets, and a second later it’s combusting across the floor. Hard candy rattles against the carpet. A petite innocent grin is given to Weaver, before Iona’s observing the mess scattering and expanding. At home her Aunt and Uncle would be outraged from such decisions, but a punishment has been established in front of the crime. Her touch doesn’t dare reach another object, but her wordless mark has been sketched.

Spectacular Table by the Awesome Arrows(=

[Cato]

Harbinger Rhodes Twenty | Male | District Eleven

I left the justice building with enough time to say goodbye to Navya. I'll see her again, but it won't be for a few months, and I'll miss her dearly. She's my everything, and I know when I return home I'll embrace her in a hug, but I don't want to think about this right now. I don't want to think about returning home because odds are I will be alone without my brother. Weaver knows that, and I know that, but I have to try. For the rest of my family. For me. For him. But I'm not sure what to do. My mind is blank as I journey to the train, and I know I must be behind Weaver and Iona by a bit, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters to me anymore except trying to protect those I love, yet I'm failing miserably. I failed last year with Carrita and Iain, and I don't want to fail this year. I don't want to return home with tear filled eyes as I look at Navya wishing I had done better. I just hope Weaver and Iona both understand that I'm doing the best I can. That I'm not going to back down. That I will help them both to the best of my ability.

I walk to the train, and the door opens, but once I'm inside I see glass shattered against the ground, and I see Weaver dropping his hand to his side. My eyes are wide as I take in the scene before seeing another jar landing on the ground with hard candy scattering in the mix of the glass. I turn towards Weaver, and I see him seething in anger, and I know he's pissed, but he shouldn't be. He needs to be strong. He has to wipe the emotions away. I turn towards Iona unsure of what to say. I can't imagine how she feels right now. I can't imagine anything except trying to save her. I have to save one of them, and while I preferred to save my brother, I can't let her down. I can't walk away from her because she needs me just as much as he needs me. Yet I don't understand the mess right now. I'm torn unsure of what to do, as I relax my own hands.

"Well, uh..." I try to talk, but I can't find the words to say. I want to just sit down, and they can't go around destroying these things because Snow will make us pay for it later like he has done with my victory. Maybe if I was dead, neither of them would be here. But I'm not dead. I'm alive, and one of them will return home alive because both will not die. I sigh as I turn away from the mess trying to call my temper down because I can't take my anger out on them. "Uh... What a pleasant surprise."

"Congratulations. You can fight inanimate objects. Want to try and do that to something living? Like me?" There goes my temper.

Victor of the 71st Hunger Games

[googlefont="Nothing You Could Do:400"]

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

In the justice building, Katelyn spent five minutes swearing at Finter and demanding to see the bowl of names with her hands clenched around some of the ruffles on his shirt. He apologized frantically, but couldn’t. It was against protocol and could mean a lengthy stay in the detention center for him if he did. Anyway, he explained as he tried to shield himself from her fury, the slips of paper were incinerated almost immediately after the ceremony, so he wouldn’t have been able to, in any case. Her ire had cooled a little after that, but not by much. She had let go of him and gruffly apologized, but her heart hadn’t been in it.

She glared at the first peacekeeper she came across and stalked past him to go to the train. The tributes had already said their goodbyes and boarded the train in the time it took for her to almost wring Finter’s neck. She’d make it up to the escort later as she knew he was likely kicking himself for the name he had drawn, but she was quaking with wrath and her heart felt raw. By the time she entered the car, Harbinger was already there and bits of shattered glass and candies littered the floor like snowflakes. She caught the tail end of what he had said, which had sounded suspiciously like a challenge, but he might have been joking.

It was hard to tell when she was seeing everything through a haze of red at the injustices of the Capitol. If it would have made her feel better, she would have upended the table in its entirety. But that would have meant wasting all the food, and all of them would need to keep their strength up. Katelyn looked at the other people in the room before grabbing a chair by the back and scraping it along the ground and the shards to herself. She sat and crossed her arms, scars and tattooed names on her body showing through wherever her skin was not covered. “You can spar later. Cry, scream, whatever you need to. But right now we’ve got a lot to discuss.” She declared.

"I’m not going to bother dancing around the issue. The Capitol sent Iain Miristioma into the arena last year. Now you, Weaver." she looked at him as she said that. "It’s clear that they’re just fucking with eleven at this point. With us. They must think this shit is funny.” She growled bitterly. “Well it ain’t.” Katelyn uncrossed her arms and rested her hands on her knees. “Now, I’d prefer that you get trained together, but if you two want to be trained separately, we can arrange for that." Katelyn took a deep breath before continuing. “And Iona, I want you to know, you’re family now. Whatever you need, just ask. We’ll take care of you. So,” she said with a pause. "Do either of you have any questions about what lies ahead?”

"My friends still stand behind me.
We stuck together through all we lost.
Even when your worst surrounds me,
you'll never get the best of us."

table coding (c) ghosty

[Arrows]

Kirito Miristioma
Victor of the 70th Hunger Games

    Only mere moments after the door's to the Justice Building slammed shut everything was flown into chaos. Death threats shot out of mouths driving into the victim's flesh just as painfully as Sue Tate's bullets had ripped into Kirito's skin. Anger was erupting from three volcanoes and Iona was just another unlucky factor thrown into the frenzy. All forms of rationality deteriorated leaving wreathing bodies and beaten peace keepers. Kirito could recall the rage that had swarmed his cells when just a year earlier he was the one sending a peace keeper to the ground. The only two differences this year was that it was Harbinger's family and all three of the victors could agree that Snow was targeting them. Iain's death wasn't an unfortunate accident, it was a precursor to war. 

    The echo of more slamming doors mixed with screams seemed only to crescendo until every last space appeared to be filled with the sounds of the struggle. Kirito found himself hands still shaking from the anger he felt. Still shuddering from the chair he had just thrown. Yet Kirito unlike Harbinger, who could blame him, was slowly calming his heightened rage. In fact the moment Kirito watched Katelyn streak away viciously from the floundering Finter's side Kirito replaced her. Seriousness laced his tone as he looked the escort in the eyes. "Go to the trains, if you stay to long there is no telling what could happen to you." Almost instantly after Kirito finished Finter's words came blubbering out of his terrified lips. "Oh Kirito you have to know I didn't..." "I know! Just go already!" Kirito snapped swiftly cutting the frantic Capitolite off mid cry. Kirito knew there was an inkling of any fact that would help Finter in this situation. War had just been born with the call of familial blood and Finter's blood was foreign. 

    Eventually Iona and Weaver, with Harbinger right by his side, exited from their secluded rooms. At this point papers littered the floor along with shimmering shards of broken glass. Nearly every ounce of Kirito's psyche wanted to take part in the devastation but his one true side knew not to. For one Kirito wasn't a savage like Kiri nor would he ever let himself. Second of all Kirito knew that going on a rampage, aside from his now in hindsight foolish chair toss, would only make the odds for the tributes worse. No matter how minuscule even a broken glass would be reported to Snow. He had his treacherous eyes on all of them and anything he could use to dignify his actions against them in the arena he would. So when Kirito finally entered last into the heated train car to the sound of shattering his blood pressure sky rocketed. 

        "Oh real nice job you two." Kirito added just after Katelyn and before he snapped fully "Why don't we break a few more things and piss of the Capitol a bit more? I mean it certainly isn't my life or Katelyn's or Harbinger's lives on the line. I hate to let you both know but you aren't some special pampered children who can throw a fit! You want to throw a fit then you die! Why don't you take a seat and use all the time you have to prepare for that reason! Ripred knows there are twenty three tributes from every games who would love to have even an extra second." As Kirito's voice slowly died down his memories of Iain's death wafted up like an unpleasant storm cloud. A cloud so heavy it made Kirito sit down beside Harbinger and Katelyn instead of standing. "Now as Katelyn was saying earlier, what are some questions you have? And I swear if you want my help don't waste our time. There isn't enough time in existence to stop it from running out."

[Knuckles]

W E A V E R

His eyes locked on the broken glass on the ground. A fire burned inside him spreading rapidly throughout his entire body, yet it went away when another glass shattered against the ground sending hard candy spiraling across the floor. Weaver turned only to find his district partner with a small grin plastered to her face. But before he could say anything Harbinger stormed into the train. Anger radiated from his entire body, and Weaver couldn't help but wonder how his time with Navya went.

"Congratulations. You can fight inanimate objects. Want to try and do that to something living? Like me?"

Weaver's heart dropped into the pits of his stomach faster than a heavy anchor dropping from the side of a boat in the midst of an ocean. His stomach churned, and his hands balled into fists as every single word caught in the back of his throat. At least you're guaranteed to return home alive. He wanted to say, but he knew it wasn't worth it. Yet the words formed on the tip of his tongue, and he fought with all his might to hold them back, but it didn't take long because Kate strutted into the room interrupting it. For a moment Weaver felt the tensions rise high as he glared at his brother. He hadn't done a damn thing to him, yet Harbinger was treating him like he didn't matter. In a way he was right because in the eyes of the Capitol, Weaver was nothing more than a pawn.

Her words buzzed through his ears as she drug a chair across the room scrapping the floor. Weaver cringed fighting against the sounds wishing he could just return home and wake up and all this be a horrible dream. But reality slapped him across the face as an even angrier Kirito burst through the doors screaming at him like he was nothing more than a piece of meat. His hands clenched tightly, but he forced himself to loosen up because he didn't want to fight, yet his mind was racing with thoughts and hateful feelings towards them all. At least you three are safe. What about me and Iona? His lips were sealed, and nothing fell from them. What did I ever do to you, Kirito? What the fuck did I do to you?

He sighed before fleeing the room for only a moment long enough to retrieve a broom before returning to clean up the mess that he and his district partner made because nobody deserved to clean up after his foolish mistake. But it wasn't a mistake because Weaver Rhodes wanted nothing to do with any of them right now, and he didn't care if Kirito wanted to help him or not. He put the broom to the side before sitting down in a chair across from the victors, and he looked at them trying to figure out what to do, or even what to say because words weren't coming easy. Yet a simple question fell past his lips. Something to at least show he was semi interested.

"What happens when we get there? What do we do?"

Made by Frankel

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

District 11 Female Tribute 73rd Hunger Games

Iona Holbrook my silence is my self defense, and also my greatest weapon.    Destruction’s a mysterious satisfaction among this forced plot. But as the scenario is discovered like greedy fingers in the cookie jar at forbidden hours, the blood demolishes from Iona’s features. At first it’s Weaver that receives Harbinger’s speechless gaze, and then Iona herself. Is he fuming from his Tributes welcoming? From the structure that’s been forced upon them? Her timid stare back attempts to analyze what he could possibly be going through, until he delivers unexpected words to the Tributes’ actions. Instantly Iona’s head is shaking back and forth in a fearful rejection to Harbinger’s challenge. She solely wanted to divert from her brain for just a moment longer, and the clash of splitting glass did exactly that. Now, she direly regrets the gentle push of her hand. The last objective she pertained was not to upset another due to her decision. And as the Victors begin piling into the Train, she realizes the faults in her process. The pain Harbinger must be going through was something she could at least logically understand. If his primary concentration went to his Brother’s safety, she wouldn’t blame him. Why any of them would place even a single bet on her survival she couldn’t comprehend. Logic joins the cart as Katelyn informs of the dire necessity of conversing currently, and that de-stressing can occur later. A third voice belonging to Kirito, chimes in with the urgency of grasping every second. Iona’s action was foolish and selfish. So many Fallen would deal anything for another minute. She’s going to fall. Katelyn speaks of how the Capitol is thirsty for Eleven’s plague, and how vital training will be for the Tributes due to this. Harbinger conveyed he desires both of them to combat him. Kirito will not accept a breath of assistance to be wasted. Katelyn assures that the young Brunette will be cared for by them. Iona timidly nods in reply. All of their speeches were more likely separated, but they mix and repeat within Iona’s mind. She remains as still as her silence, pleading for a sturdy wall to be placed behind her. Countless quotes of theirs replay in her thoughts. For the first time in her life transportation is tearing her from Eleven, and she’s internally sobbing to claw her way back home. But not even a single bone twitches among her body. Weaver retrieves a broom to clean their mess. And Iona’s trapped between helping, and following the instructions of sitting down. Incapable of observing as another sweeps the shambles she participated in creating, Iona gathers a broom of her own. The candies bounce against the ruble of glass as they cling into a subtle mount. And she continues to replicate Weaver’s operation, with a seat beside him and before the Victors. “What happens when we get there? What do we do?” That’s when the composure in her expression dwindles entirely. This train won’t delay in the unbearable process for eternity? They’re destined to reach the Capitol and the inevitable? Iona questions if she’ll even last that long.

[Cato]

Harbinger Rhodes Twenty | Male | District Eleven

Neither of them says a word, and it's silent until Katelyn walks in griping and complaining. She has nothing to worry about because she doesn't have anyone the Capitol can use against her like Kirito and myself. We have a huge family that's growing rapidly, and I'm terrified Snow will hurt my wife. I'll kill him if he does. I listen momentarily as Kate gives her speech about how President Snow is trying to get after us victors, and it makes sense. I was supposed to die in my games, but I didn't. I won. I went home alive, and nobody else could stop me. I feel the anger leaving for a moment as I turn around glaring at my brother. I can see the anger in his eyes, and I know he wants to lash out, and part of me is begging him to, but I sigh a breath of relief when he just remains quiet. But to top it all off, Kirito comes in shouting and yelling. We shouldn't be yelling at them, but I know we're all angry, and I know nobody cares what happens. Because nothing makes sense anymore.

I'm about to apologize, but Weaver leaves the train car, and I feel like he's walked out on us. My hands ball into fists, and I'm about to shout his name when he returns carrying a broom. Weaver has always cleaned up after himself, especially when he's made a mess. My heart sinks, and I know I've been too hard on him, but right now I don't care. Iona then leaves and returns with a broom, and they're both cleaning up the mess until it's gone, and then they take a seat. I sigh and take my own seat next to Kate and Kirito, and I glare at them wondering what they're going to do. I'm hoping the tension is gone, and I hope nobody else lashes out because none of us need to get into a shouting match.

"What happens when we get there? What do we do?" I'm amazed that Weaver didn't shout anything, but I know how good he is at locking away the emotions. Yet he felt something for the first time in a long time, and I'm glad he did because he needed to let it all out. But I still don't know what happened. I look at Iona, and the girl hasn't said a single word, yet I can tell she doesn't want to be here. The three of us never asked for this to happen. Annora never asked to die. Carrita, Iain. None of them wanted to be in the hunger games, yet they had no option, and neither does the two sitting in front of me. I turn my head to Kate hoping she'll help me out because last game I wasn't a good mentor, and I really want that to change.

Victor of the 71st Hunger Games

[googlefont="Nothing You Could Do:400"]

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

They were all angry.

Katelyn could hear it Kirito’s voice, could see it in his face. He warned the tributes not to waste the mentor’s time, barking that there were plenty of dead tributes that could have benefitted from more training. Like Iain and Carrita. She thought morosely as she stared, watching them as Kirito tore into them. For a moment she saw through the haze of red and focused on the tributes; on how Weaver’s jaw was set, on how Iona’s eyes could be likened to a frightened rabbit.

Katelyn looked at her reflection in the train window and saw how intense she looked, and she wondered if maybe she had been the one to fail Iain and Carrita. Hadn’t Harbinger been mad at her for no reason his first year back? Hadn’t he said she and Kirito hadn’t cared about him? Katelyn took a deep breath to steady herself. Weaver looked ready to kill the mentors even as he asked a question and Iona looked miserable.

She’d been so desperate not to let her family get hurt again that she’d forgotten about the two kids in front of her.

“I know you two are scared,” she began, dialing it back a few notches though she still fumed. “You’re Angry. Confused. I know your world just got turned upside down. I know because I was in your shoes four years ago, and I had to do it alone. But you’re not." She clapped her hands to her knees and got up to help Weaver clean. “I know I—we are coming on a bit strong; but we have to. Iona, you’re here because of bad luck.” She crouched down to where Harbinger’s brother was sweeping into the dustpan. “Weaver, I’m sorry, but you’re here because the Capitol is sending us mentors a message. They want us to stop trying but there’s no way in hell that we’re just going to give up on anyone. The hard truth is that they didn’t want any of us to win. Districts like ours aren’t supposed to."

Katelyn stood, and put a hand on Weaver’s shoulder. “But to answer your question, I’m going to tell you the same thing I’ve told all my tributes, and that’s including the other two victors in this room. Be a survivor. Anything else won’t cut it.” It was to the point. Honest. Blunt. Katelyn couldn’t bring herself to explain it any other way. Any other way would have been a lie. “The arena? It’s hell. There’s no way around it. Whether it’s snow or a swamp or a goddam clock tower, it’s hell. You will kill, and it will change you. We’ll sponsor you for as long as we can. But at some point, your survival will depend solely on yourself.” There was no way to tell how early sponsorship would dry up this time, but Katelyn wasn’t optimistic after the previous year.

“If that means leaving your allies behind to die…” She said as images of Marc and Lexi missing limbs in the snow came to her. “Killing them yourself… she said, replaying Harbinger and Chloe’s fight in her mind. “Or simply laying aside your morals out of desperation…” She said with a glance at Kirito. “Do what you need to, even if it’s not what you want to.” It was only when she saw the window in front of her that she realized she had been pacing. “We beat the odds. I believe you can too.”

She laughed bitterly. “You want to know district eleven’s record?” she let silence hang in the air for a moment. “In seventy-two years, it’s been one hundred and forty deaths to three victors. That’s terrible." Katelyn paused. "And yet...The Capitol is desperately trying to stop our district from having another victor. I think it’s because they know that one person can make a difference. Give people hope where there is none to be found."She turned away from the window. "The Capitol wants to kill you.”She finished bluntly, looking back and forth between the two.  


“If I were you, I’d give them hell.”

"My friends still stand behind me.
We stuck together through all we lost.
Even when your worst surrounds me,
you'll never get the best of us."

table coding (c) ghosty