disembodiment {kimmie's dp}
Oct 17, 2016 19:10:57 GMT -5
Post by Tom on Oct 17, 2016 19:10:57 GMT -5
I'LL MAKE IT THROUGH, BUT NOT THIS TIME mitchell laws YOUR HOPE IS GONE, AND SO IS MINE | The strike clanks against the armor upon her leg. The glint of metal shines in his eyes for a second and he's questioning if he's doing the right thing. If everything he's done in the arena was the right thing to do. Morals didn't exist within the limits of fighting within the gamemakers' arena of mountains. As he strikes first, others come to strike. Hammerfell, Parks, Todd, and his allies all seem to appear out of nowhere. Killers of all forms, inflicting pain upon the alliance that had just killed the two of hearts. This was only the beginning of the bloodshed that would occur. Only the beginning of their rocky hell, they would hit rock bottom eventually. The heart that sits deep within his chest pumps rapidly from adrenaline and excitement of the scene before him. Friends, enemies, lovers, allies, rivals, all of them would fall, until only one single person was left standing with all of their sins and integrated back into a life they would hate. Wishing for their own death instead of being alive. As he watches tribute after tribute swing at the queen of diamonds and queen of clubs, his hands shake in something he didn't understand. His mind was wavering in his own sanity and insanity. No. Don't lose sight of yourself Mitchell. It was alright too late, Mitchell Laws, the thief who was a common thief was dead. A boy with the same name who wanted to kill others stands before them all. A thief to an attempted killer. Mitchell Laws was taught at a young age that violence wasn't okay. A boy whose mother used to wash his mouth out with soap for the threatening words that he had said at the age of five. And yet, here he was, trying to chop down Saffron Lowe's cousin down to size. Violence was the answer within the arena, there was nothing else, but violent tributes who kill to go home to see their families. And here he was tearing a family apart, slowly, if Carter was watching, Carter would have told Mitchell to stop. He would of screamed for Mitchell to stop and play it smart, but Carter wasn't there. Jack wasn't there. No one but himself and twenty three others who were facing similar and yet different problems. You're losing yourself Mitchell. You're losing yourself. Mitchell Laws was losing himself to the games, violence, blood, and the dead. They surrounded him like the fence that kept all of District Twelve within the district. Hyacinth Mortuus was somewhere in the arena, with all of the vicious killers and all he could do was hope she was alive, there was one unknown face within the entirety of the deaths. One that could be Hyacinth, or anyone else. Her words still fill his head with questions, Do you not plan on winning? Winning. It wasn't possible for someone like Mitchell Laws. Winning was something he wanted, but getting it would be harder than anything in his life. He doesn't plan on winning, but he'd try to get farther for Jack and Carter's sake. Winning would be a good ending, but Mitchell Laws wasn't one for a good ending. The story was only beginning, introduction to the games that would force them all to dance with death, until their bodies can't keep up. Four dead already and all Mitchell could do was ignore it like it never truly happened, like Kimmie's and Rachael's bodies weren't on the ground dead. A sigh of frustration escapes from his lungs and he feels weightless again. Myara Lowe, his target for this surprise attack. Asha, Jenoah, and Desi are with him. They stand and fight just like the others. Their spirits firing up at the death of a girl who had a father waiting for her back home and yet Mitchell felt nothing for her. He felt nothing at all. No emotions of grief or sorrows. His walls still stood high with everything he had and no one would take them down. The scene before him was filled with madness. They were all mad within the arena, minds would be lost to the rift that separates the sane and insane. Mitchell was hanging on the edge by a thread for that moment and yet he felt sane, he felt like this was how he had always been. Nothing more than a man upon the edge of sane and insane. As he holds the sword that shines with his face upon the blade, he strikes. Walls built to block his emotions and feelings as he screams inside trying to tell himself not to attack, but his body wouldn't listen as it was live or die. Mitchell Laws was a walking conflictions. The blade strikes and he feels himself holding back the emotions inside of himself for fear of breaking down to the madness. |
Inspired by the lovely Chelsey <3
(Attacks Myara Lowe with sword again)
b9_HGV9E200+1000
(DG left thigh 8.0)200+1000