dungeons and dragons {roy + martin}

[[nyte]]

M A R T I N .

I know that apples are red. That's what I've been told, they are rich in pigment and look as sweet as they taste. Red is passion, they say, red looks how love feels and no matter how long I stare at an apple there is no such thing as red. I cannot miss what I have never known, nothing more than shades of black and white, grey and silver. In my world there is light and dark, blurry and clear. Glasses sit upon the bridge of my nose, so thick my eyelashes bend when I blink and still it does little to help. I can see no more than ten feet in front of my face and I guess that is how things will always be.

It used to bother me. Hell, it still does. To look in the sky and see nothing more remarkable than the asphalt burning my bare feet below and then the grass is only different in the way it peeks from in between my toes. It used to stop me. I would hide my head beneath the covers, running from cruel words spat by peers that cannot understand my world is so much different than theirs.

I bought one can of spray paint, there was no point buying another. I will never be an artist-
able to overcome my handicap and paint the world a thousand different colors that I myself cannot see. They blend together too quickly, becoming the same muddy grey as everything else,
as the sky and the sea and the ground. To say I live in monotony would be an understatement.

But that's why this is so fun. Baited breath, hands shaking as danger threatens to sink its claws into my back- tear me away from my brother and my family and just about everything else I've come to love. God, it's exhilarating. Pull the trigger, thick black paint sinking into the fractures of a white wall, like spiders webs or broken glass, it spreads.

Roy should be here any minute, but I'm eager to start without him. To paint naughty things and pretend I had nothing to do with giant penis suddenly splattered across public property. It's just as funny to me now as it was way back when we were kids, sleep deprived after nights of wandering about the house and finding whatever treasures our parents might not want us to find.

Sometimes I feel like such a burden. Clung to his arm because open spaces scare the shit out of me. There's nothing to feel- to anchor myself to. I walk in fog without my brother, sifting through nothing and I never know if there's going to be an end. If there is, I'll never see it.
No matter how many times I say that's okay- it's not. I cannot be my brother's shadow forever and yet I feel there is no substance but he to hold me upright.

I couldn't tell you who is older, but I know who's better. A knight, valiant and strong and everything a young boy wishes upon the stars to be. He can read books without his hands, talk to strangers without knots in his tongue and lumps in his throat. There's nothing I can do that Roy does not do better.

But that's okay, I love him for it.

And I hope those footsteps are his because otherwise I have a lot of explaining to do.

"A knight should never be late, Roy~."

The word bitch has already begun to crawl down the wall- wet and heavy and stinking of chemicals.

Not my best work but we've only just started.

[Deleted]

R O Y .
---

I used to think we'd be great off the seashore -- how great would that be? Bag of fruit snacks I stole from the cornerstore, uncle'll be fine (is it stealing from the poor if you're both parties?), I think grape's my favorite flavor. Martin doesn't like grape either so it's win win! I get the good part of the bag and we can share the rest, walking through the district streets back from the corner store - what's the point of making your own party if you can't be late to it? 

Party of two! Martin and I, never needed anything else, just two assholes and beach side adventures and old fashioned vandalism; no mayor election, grape candy, blindness or reaping can stop that.

And I grin cheek to cheek, bouncing to my own beat thinking about how fuckin stupid the two of us -- once upon a time we were gonna run away to district four. How great would that be; an actual beach! An actual fucking beach- oh whatever, we'd do our  own strolls through medicine streets and corner store charisma, but I can't stop thinking about that through summer. It'd be so cool and we could meet a mermaid, and don't get me wrong district 6 could have some swimming around here but it's not like we can go swimming with them.

All we got is sand and ponds. 

But anyways, when I say living off seashore I mean full on homeless style, poaching crabs out of the beach and getting tans on our necks HA - walking alone is so boring, nobody laughs at my jokes. Oh well, it happens, Martin does his own thing sometimes and I respect that, respect- oh shit

I'm out of grapes. 

Oh man this bag's half empty what the shit, oh well, tying the bag back together and high tailing it. 

The sun feels nice today damn I love summer, I've always been a simpler soul than Martin and I can be okay with that. Passing by wire-fencing, shoes echoing in alleyways like bottlecaps -- I should really get back to collecting those, and I mean I had a lot of them but I think I sold them for gum once. Shit is it two lefts or left right, uhhhh- okay okay eenie meenie minie mo two lefts gotcha. Martin and I usually run this way together, he memorized the way to the old drug store down on Walton AVE but uhh can't relate? 

I mean I usually just follow- FUCK yeah, I remember this way. Sneaking under Miss Bridgett's wooden panel (it's a short cut okay,) one more left and boom boom bang: Martin. Easy enough, man I love summer- everybody's actually outside for once it's so much easier to sneak around, be where you aren't supposed to be and pretend to be a twin brother. I hold my breath running through her backyard still - Bridgett isn't her name but we never bothered getting caught to find out the truth, just gave her an old lady name. 

And I keep running, like gunshots and gunpowder, finger gun loaded up until I catch up to Martin and

"A knight should never be late, Roy,"

I collapse, breath running between my lungs and throat escaping in laughter- well, wheezes. "Martin," a yell, between exhausted breaths and sobs of laughing, "dude I just ran this way BUT BUT get this:" I lay down, pressing my head to the ground, palm to my stomach in heaves "I RAN THROUGH BRIDGETT'S YARD." Yeah, right that's so awesome anyways, "I kicked her asshole cat on the way out- HHHA" it's not even that funny just damn that cat's a dick. Couple of quick deep breaths- oxymoron, except I got neither parts HA- I get myself up, still grinning ear to ear and, 

"Bitch?" Pointing, smirking, "we got better than that, Martin," kinda-pearly teeth flashing as I lean down for a paint can, out of breath before writing another string of Justice-Fray-has-a-fat-ass on the drug store wall.

"Also got here first try, no worries, wizard."

[[nyte]]

M A R T I N .

My brother's aura is that of a nobleman. He holds his head high with a smile that I cannot repeat, even with his own features taken as my own. I can see them through a fog, white teeth stood out against grey lips and I wish that I could be half as charming as he. Maybe then my glasses wouldn't stand out so starkly against a mess of brown hair, falling somewhere just past my ears. Maybe then I'd have as many friends as he. Always more reserved, always quieter- it feels good when Roy makes me laugh. Loud and ruckus and we are just what we are. A couple of kids raising hell and having the times of their lives.

"Would have killed to hear that satan-spawn get what's coming." I do my best impression of a strangled screech, falling backwards against our paint-splattered canvas, chemicals seep into the back of my shirt and stain it with memories that I hope to keep forever. When all of this is said and done; when Roy has grown as grey as he has always looked to me, I hope we rock on a porch with our hands folded in our laps and talk about the good old days. Our adventures painted into weary hands and with every wrinkle on our face there will be a story to tell.

If the paint stains my skin I will carry this happiness around for the rest of my days. And it's hard to say how much longer that will be in a place like Panem. Where our lives are auctioned off for the greater good and no man survives unless he is at least a little selfish. And most certainly they cannot thrive unless they bathe in the blood of the innocents crushed beneath steel-toed boots and white collars.

It hurts too much to think about all of that. I've never been very good at being strong, wearing armor made of cloth and a heart sewn to its sleeve. Taunts and teases have always passed so easily through thin skin, settling somewhere in the pit of my stomach. They stick to me like scars, red and raised and angry and no matter how hard I try to get them out of my head they so easily wipe smiles from trembling lips.

"And I didn't know what else to write!" I whine, running fingers through tangled hair and wincing with every knot they catch upon. "Justice's ass isn't even that good, I've seen much better." Though the victor's looks are undeniable- I simply refuse to agree because that's what everyone else thinks. I wish not to stick out in body but in mind- and so I disagree even when I've caught myself staring in every broadcast.

"Let's do something really fun tonight Roy." I stand up, dusting off my jeans and giving him a grin that I know he cannot match. "Let's... break into a store or something."

I take such pride in being the devil rested upon his left shoulder.

[Deleted]

R O Y .
---

"Would have killed to hear that satan-spawn get what's coming." 

"Right!" Sucking in paint fumes, "it could be its own radio station I swear." You know what they say about the art of war, nothing brings boys together like a common enemy. That and being born in the same womb and sharing a bedroom -- lucky for us, three checks. I'm no genius but that's roughly 100%, laughing in my palm, sticky spray paint reflecting sun in my eyes. Dude, I miss having a radio, that was the shit. Martin and I used to stay up on school breaks and listen to old gospel shit, there was one good one, and it only had good connection on rooftops, like what's up with that? 

Like, imagine two twelve year olds dancing on top of the local corner drug store? It was whack, now we just do petty stuff, like y'know stealing and vandalism. Trespassing on your own property? Detention center level shit right there. Martin fake choking himself and falling into the paint, "aye man! I'm paintin 'ere," isn't there like, paint poisoning? That's totally a thing, but I feel like Martin and or myself would've gotten it by now - oh shit, ohh haha when I was a kid I used to eat crayons.

Straight up colored wax.

But only the purple ones, there was this naked guy in one of the past games who got stained purple and I triple dog dared Martin to dare me into trying to do the same thing. Only problem is we're broke as shit and living in like, realism y'know? So we went around every where stealing art sets for cheap, though that's probably why they taste so bad, "you sure this is safe?"

"Yaa, if you're not a pussy, Mart-"

 

Surprising that they tasted like shit, I mean, they're basically grape flavored. Also apparently staining skin through color poisoning takes a shit long time, I ate like, four crayons and gave up when I was still pasty, through up in an alley and we eventually just colored my entire arm when we got home. Man, looking between myself and Martin and we're both still so pasty, sun burns don't do anything for us- that's so stupid. Rolling around in paint and stains and messy hair, "and I didn't know what else to write!"

"No excuses! We're masterminds out here, Martin!" Jokes, 

it ain't that deep, "we're next level!"

Innovators of whole new layer of minor vandalism and petty crimes, who wastes their time stealing statues and repainting park benches pink? "Justice's ass isn't even that good, I've seen better." Take it back, that's practically illegal to say, "Topaz doesn't count, she's old dude." If victors were a bakery, they'd be put out of business 'cause there's been a lacking of cakes y'know? "Does Mace count?"  

"Let's do something really fun tonight Roy," oh no, "oh yea?"

Standing over me, I spray paint a dick on the ground -- he's grinning, we're getting arrested. Fuck yeah. I can't tell which of us are worse, he's usually the smart one so I want to blame him? Like, he shouldn't be enabling me or something, but whenever he comes up with plans oh ho ho boy, boy, "let's..." 

"Yeah?"

"Break into a store or something," fuck no

"Fuck yeah!"

This is a new level, okay, I can catch up to this, "oh oh, the Mars'," I know what's up, there's a target here- "they have radios!" Fuck yeah! "Aight, aight hear me out," standing up, picking a fruit snack out of my pocket, "they've got food there, they've got radios, it's perfect." Popping the top back on the paint can, butterflies in my finger tips and I feel like static, "climb through the second floor, work our way down," easy shit, we've broken into many places illegally, like a whole three times before? 

"They'll never catch us rats coming from above!" Blindspot, finger gun, we're gonna hear music again.