losing all the things that mean the most . } d9 train blitz

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

My god, it's storming.

I swear my skull is about to crack wide open from the chaos in my mind, the thunder, the lighting, roaring throughout my head. Calypso is the thunder. I can still hear her screaming out my name in defiance, in refusal to lose me like she lost so many others.

I thought I would feel empty.

I thought I would cry at the hole my sister left punched through my chest, but my eyes are dry and I am not in pieces. Pain makes you hollow- I have seen it eat away at Calypso for years, wearing her down piece by piece.

Until there is nothing left.

(I've always wanted to be just like my big sister, haven't I?)

But I'm not empty. I am just excruciatingly numb.

And it isn't that it didn't hurt. It seared like a flame, burned like a wildfire, starting from the cage in my chest and leaping throughout every fiber of my being. It burned so intensely that after a while, the pain became white noise in the back of my mind. Nothing. I do not want to know what my insides look like- I am sure they are gnarled and scorched and clawed- but I am nothing on the outside when I walk into the train car where our mentor awaits. I am nothing, not stone, not ice, nor fire. Just static, white blankness. That is what I have become in the face of agony.

I see him- tall, pasty, blue eyes- standing like a ghost in the train car. Colgate O'Leary. He casts a shadow over me, as he is a giant and I am standing at only 4'10. Other girls would be daunted.

I'm not other girls.

I place my hand on my hips and try to look alive.

"So, what can you teach me that I don't already know?" my voice is small, naturally soft and youthful, but there is a sharp edge to my tone.

❧

hope is hard to find
when you don't know what you're looking for
and you're consistently behind
thinking there must be something more

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

______________________

Hold on to your heart, you'll keep it safe
Hold on to your heart

Best I can do is tune all of it out, that’s how I feel. Today’s all speeches and sad names and unfortunate circumstances, but I don’t have to feel the tension in my heart if I don’t want to. This isn’t anything I can control, so that’s how I’m gonna think – I’m teaching myself to let the bad things pass through me like a breeze, and I’ll do what I can to help when I can.

It’s not my fault, I tell myself. It’s not my fault if something goes wrong.

Relinquishing responsibility feels good – necessary, I guess – and it acts as the shield that protects me from the way my tributes look as they take the stage, volunteers for whatever hell the Gamemakers have concocted this year. They’ve got brave faces. Two volunteers. I can work with that.

Oh, a sliver of a thought passes through my mind, a memory of that stage, but I crush it down so it doesn’t seize my heart. A flicker of a smile rises to my lips as the ceremony ends and the crowd disperses. I seek out my family, required attendees as ever, and I kiss my mother on the cheek and make sure to give everyone a hug. Mom gives me a knowing look and hands me a bag with a number of items inside.

“You make sure to give these gifts to Cordelia,” Mom says, giving me a pat on the cheek. I think everyone misses her, not just me, but they must all be tired of me telling ‘em how I wish she could be here with me. I nod and give everyone one last hug, and Peacekeepers lead me to the train.

The sleek interior of the train never ceases to surprise me. It’s another one of the Capitol’s fine elegant things, much like the woman I love, but I don’t feel comfortable in the train like I do when Cor’s with me. When I’m all by myself I just feel like a dumb backwoods boy from District Nine all over again.

God, she makes the world feel like I belong in it.

I’ll get to see her soon, and that’s why I’ve got a silly smile on my face. My footsteps are light and my heart doesn’t feel tense like it usually does, and I think that’s why I don’t feel a sense of dread when one of my tributes enters the train car. I turn towards her, holding my chin up as I get a better look at her.

Definitely brave, this one.

“So, what can you teach me that I don't already know?" she asks, sharp and resolute.

I laugh, absentmindedly picking up a knife and a piece of bread to butter.
”That depends on what you already know,” I say, taking a bite from the bread and fidgeting idly with the knife in my other hand. ”What are your strengths?”

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

atlas.

I'm almost completely sober by the time I float onto the train, hands shoved in my pockets and eyes glued to the ground. Really, I'm not ready to say goodbye- I'd sooner kiss the pavement and dig my heels into wet cement. No way they could take me then.

It's not because I fear the death that waits for me, arms outstretched and drenched in grey smog that sticks to Nine's horizon. Really, it's the light at the end of a tunnel to which I' still stumbling through. And don't get me wrong, I've never been more than three minutes to midnight. I'm a fucking addict, dependent on sweet poisons that beg to steal my very soul with dirty syringes and tar. But now? Doomsday is the sound of ticking in my ears, bouncing about an empty skull and settling in the pit of my stomach- dragging me into a seat near the other beating hearts in the belly of this beast.

I may be mere seconds from midnight, but at least I'm not the only one.

In all honestly, I'm terrified of the withdrawal. My body is already begging for another hit, fresh track marks throbbing beneath the nude sweater I've pulled over my head- sending messy hair up in just about every direction. Could it kill me? Not in the capitol. My life is something precious until they throw me in that fucking arena and I am nothing but a pawn in this overblown game of chest. Just because I'm safe for now, doesn't mean it won't hurt like hell.

Other than the girl I've taken a seat next to, I can hear the breathing of another. He must be one of their kings. Colgate O'leary, crowned victor seven years ago now. Seeing as we've had none in the mean time I don't feel too confident putting my faith in him- his advice is less than trustworthy as far as I can tell. It's never been enough to bring someone home.

So I guess I'm on my own.

Not that that's anything new. "What are your strengths?" O'leary asks and I laugh, tipping my head onto the frost-bitten glass of the train and sewing my eyelids shut.

"Personally, I'm good at long walks on the beach, deep personal conversation and fucking up." Not that he asked me, but the answer slips from between my lips anyway. Maybe that way, he'll remember me after I'm gone. Maybe this girl will too.

Death is only real when no man remembers my name.