choose life | Ingran/Ronnie

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

It has been at least twenty-four hours, maybe less. Cravings probably kicked in thirteen hours ago; his dependency is making him weak. You should take some medicine. If only the voice in his head could tell him locate where exactly he could retrieve it; it is not as simple to find in the Capitol as it was for him in District Four.

Tick tock. Tick tock. He cannot allow any more minutes to pass without tending to his cravings, even his stomach is beginning to yearn for food, and perhaps the dining hall will be the place to find something…anything.

He walks into the crowded room, its humid atmosphere hitting him instantly as his underarms begin to melt with sweat. ”It is too warm in here!” After being forced to wear trousers in the training centre, since he walked in with just a shirt and his underwear the first time, his tribute uniform is growing as much as a burden as his cravings. ”Ahh fuck it.” While standing in line for his food, he abandons his shirt entirely, surely he can’t punished for not wearing his top half.

Meat, that is all he can stomach right now and a lot of it. Beef, chicken a rather unsavoury looking joint, it all piles up onto his plate.

Maybe a District Six can you give your medicine. Only one District Six comes to mind, a rather good looking pretty face who stood out for Ronnie as he was forced to watch all the reaping ceremonies. He quickly locates them, their stunning face standing out from the crowd of abominations.

With the plate in hand, he hurries over to the male, just one thing projected onto his mind. ”You are from District Six. Do you know how to get stuff? You know…a particular substance?”

[gamemaker kelsier]

INGRAN ANSGOT

"This is how my personality always is. Even if there’s no problem, fuck em"

Dull thoughts.

Angel's face sticks out in my head like a cut. Livid, it lives behind my eyelids when I shut them. I haven't ever had a problem with getting someone out of my head before but his face in the training centre said something his words didn't. I try to think of the last time someone had actually been attached to me and I can't. Not even my parents would have given a shit if I'd volunteered. If they were still alive then they wouldn't have noticed.

I stare at the wall, no interest in the room full of people behind my back. If someone wanted to, they could try stabbing me between my shoulder blades. I only wear a t-shirt for protection and my mind wanders. I consider what that might feel like, to get a blade there. I've never gotten a blade in my back before, people have tried though. I've been stabbed in other spots, like my leg that one time I was pushing my knee into that girl's throat. She'd wanted to live badly I guess so she'd plunged it into my thigh. I think if someone stabbed me there though I might die.

I eat a mouthful of rice, listening for the whistle of a blade. None comes.

Some cokehead wanders into view, shirtless and sweating, tray piled with meat. I'm not sure what he intends to do with it, he'll only throw it up later. He seems to be beginning withdrawal. I wonder why he'd volunteer. I guess he didn't know that there was no cocaine in the games. I peg him for an idiot. Fodder.

I have a rule that no one approaches me while I'm eating. Back in Six I stabbed an ally in his gut for interrupting my morning coffee. I didn't kill him. I allowed him medical assistance.

He didn't bother me again.

I wrap my hand around my knife, the dullness of it a disappointment. It'd be harder to gut this fool. Not as impossible as one might think.

I know what he's asking for and I have it already.

I eat another mouthful of rice and stare at him, listening still for the motion of a knife trying to plunge itself into my back.

"If I do?"

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

He can’t remember the day, his first time, he knows it was Reggie who got him into it though; the drugs. Unlike his twin who doesn’t have much of a taste for it, Ronnie has continued smoking, injecting, inhaling, and whatever methods of input a certain substance needs for the best results. It is like a hobby now, people tell him to stop but they don’t know how enjoyable it is, if only they all just had a little taste. A small drag of weed or a syringe full of meth, it’d become more of a social hobby for him if he got others involved.

Not only are the effects enjoyable but they certainly sharpen him up a bit, cocaine, something that has become a part of his diet. The voice in his head speaks more clearly when he takes that. Ideas flow when it hits the climax, he would not have been able to protect his twin for this long if it wasn’t for the assistance from the medicine. If only he could shake hands with its inventor, they would certainly be his idol if he ever met them.

Sweat trails down his brow, dripping into his open eyes; if his focus wasn’t elsewhere, the stringing pain from the salty bodily fluid would certainly be bothering him as it attacked his vision. He places the plate of meat onto the table, his vision fixed onto the male as he anticipates an answer from his request.

It’s an expected response; he never gets it easy when in District Four, he’ll just have to do what he always does. ”If you do, then give it to me.” His hand still grip onto the plate as it sits on the table, the rest of his body follows, slipping on the chair directly in front of the District Six male. ”Unless, it comes with a price.” A smirk projects itself on his face while he picks up a phallic looking joint of meat before taking a bite out of the top of it.