three's a party // d9 train thread {rave/geebs}
Feb 2, 2017 18:59:45 GMT -5
Post by esther kim d3 {lance} on Feb 2, 2017 18:59:45 GMT -5
l u c a s o ' h a r a
The die was cast. The deed was done.
For better or for worse, the name Lucas O'Hara would now forever be included in the pages of history.
One way or another, anyway.
The adrenaline had faded, but the gravity of just what he had gotten himself into had barely begun to sunk in.
I'm going to be in the Hunger Games.
It was a thought that would scare the shit out of nearly anyone else back home. Everyone knew that being selected for the Games in a district like Nine was virtually a death sentence.
Only one had ever managed to return home in his lifetime, and judging by the rather poor performances of locals as of late, he wasn't particularly confident that Colgate O'Leary's mentoring ability would be able to send him home anyway.
He mentally shrugged and pushed the thought to the back of his mind. The decision was made. The grave was dug. There was no further reason to stress over it.
Besides, it wouldn't all be in vain, either. He'd get to fulfill his dream of seeing the Capitol - and more importantly, the Games - up close. He'd been the deciding factor that would grant those he left behind a slight increase in provisions for the next year.
And, of course, there was the potential for meeting people from all across the nation, in more ways than one.
Speaking of which...
His focus drifts out of his reverie and refocuses back on the real world. The atmosphere is oddly silent aside from the pleasant hum of the train engine.
Like him, it appeared that the boy and the girl who had preceded him to the stage were keeping mostly to themselves. The names Zanita and Helios flash through his mind, the voice of the gaudily dressed escort still echoing in his mind.
They were strangers to him, yet looked to be about his age. She was dark-skinned and pretty, sporting a blank expression on her face as she looked off to who knows where. He was dark-haired and handsome, with hands intertwined with one another and a wide-eyed yet equally distant look decorating hazel orbs.
He shifted his gaze from him to her, then back.
And there they sat, three separate souls who all carried some degree of courage and stupidity, heading to their inevitable death.
He was no enemy of silence, but he was one of inactivity, and the last thing that the other two seemed to be interested in was interaction.
So, he did what any other teenager hurtling towards his death at several hundred miles an hour would do.
He grabbed the sketchbook and pencil that until then had been propped up against his chair, opened the book up to the first blank page that he could find, and began to draw.
For better or for worse, the name Lucas O'Hara would now forever be included in the pages of history.
One way or another, anyway.
The adrenaline had faded, but the gravity of just what he had gotten himself into had barely begun to sunk in.
I'm going to be in the Hunger Games.
It was a thought that would scare the shit out of nearly anyone else back home. Everyone knew that being selected for the Games in a district like Nine was virtually a death sentence.
Only one had ever managed to return home in his lifetime, and judging by the rather poor performances of locals as of late, he wasn't particularly confident that Colgate O'Leary's mentoring ability would be able to send him home anyway.
He mentally shrugged and pushed the thought to the back of his mind. The decision was made. The grave was dug. There was no further reason to stress over it.
Besides, it wouldn't all be in vain, either. He'd get to fulfill his dream of seeing the Capitol - and more importantly, the Games - up close. He'd been the deciding factor that would grant those he left behind a slight increase in provisions for the next year.
And, of course, there was the potential for meeting people from all across the nation, in more ways than one.
Speaking of which...
His focus drifts out of his reverie and refocuses back on the real world. The atmosphere is oddly silent aside from the pleasant hum of the train engine.
Like him, it appeared that the boy and the girl who had preceded him to the stage were keeping mostly to themselves. The names Zanita and Helios flash through his mind, the voice of the gaudily dressed escort still echoing in his mind.
They were strangers to him, yet looked to be about his age. She was dark-skinned and pretty, sporting a blank expression on her face as she looked off to who knows where. He was dark-haired and handsome, with hands intertwined with one another and a wide-eyed yet equally distant look decorating hazel orbs.
He shifted his gaze from him to her, then back.
And there they sat, three separate souls who all carried some degree of courage and stupidity, heading to their inevitable death.
He was no enemy of silence, but he was one of inactivity, and the last thing that the other two seemed to be interested in was interaction.
So, he did what any other teenager hurtling towards his death at several hundred miles an hour would do.
He grabbed the sketchbook and pencil that until then had been propped up against his chair, opened the book up to the first blank page that he could find, and began to draw.
[/presto]h e l i o s d e l a c r o i x
