a duality of demons / d6 train blitz!

[gamemaker tallis 🌱 kaitlin.]

T E R R A.

I feel like a live wire.

Every single piece of me is on fire; not even all that time alone in the justice building was able to tamp down on the feeling of, of, of—fuck, I don't even know what! Something incredible. Something horrible. I think, if it's anything, it's an almost aching loneliness that somehow makes me feel whole and happy and, for the very first time, entirely my own.

"How long does it normally take?" I ask Teddy, my eyes bright and wild and untamed. I'm literally bursting out of my seat with the anticipation of it all, the fear and the confusion and the happiness and the excitement all bubbling up into some single emotion that I don't fully know how to express except to literally burst out of my seat and walk up to the table piled high with food. Without a thought, I grab a plate and start plopping bits and bobs onto it, shoving things into my mouth as I go. "Is it like this in the Capitol, too then?" I say through the mouthful of buttery pastry I've shoved into it.

[Tom]

New scars linger along his arms, small, but visible enough to make his stomach spin once more. Kent and Kane Caulin were still suffering. Kane; no longer living, but Kent was drowning in the sorrow and deep down he knew it was his fault. If only Teddy Ursa had been faster, smarter, and wiser; he could have seen it all. The bomb, the explosion, and the death of a boy too young, whom had idolized him.

That's how he ends up in the train car, with Terra Markov and Daemon Lazre. A girl who's smile reminds him of Aeson Kight's from the past. Dameon Lazre volunteers with that confidence. A confidence that could lead to another coffin, but he stays still, contemplating his own thoughts trying to remember how to do this. How to breath knowing more tributes were going to be in his grasp and knowing they'll fall through his palms once more again. The sting of Walter Blake still burning like the tears Lili had cried for him when the explosion had went off. Terra is the one to speak first, with an untamed prescience that makes his eyebrows raise.

"How long does it normally take?"

Mumbling, he responds with a half assed answer, knowing that the trip would be not long enough for him to give them what he wants. A chance to make it home. Biting on the side of his cheek, letting a small taste of iron build on his tongue. "Awhile." Eyes glance up at Terra Markov who looks just as unruly as Aeson Kight had been. Daemon Lazre reminds him a little more of Ansel Khiev and the thought builds in his stomach once more. The two tributes who's had some of the best track records for Six. A chance blooming at the edges of his fingertips, but he had let the both of them slip through.

Who's to say he won't do it again?

"Is it like this in the Capitol, too then?"

Glancing up, he stares into those eyes, builds himself up as he finally focuses back on the situation at hand. Starting to feel more and more like himself, despite the nightmares he's started having once more. Volcanoes exploding with molten rock, just like the shattered glass into his arms.

"Yes. That's not important though."

A pause.

"I'm here for you. Both of you. If there's anything you want to know or anything you need help with, I'm here for you."

Eyes glancing to the table of food once more as Terra starts stacking things up.

"Also, my first bit of advice, don't eat too much, you're gonna have to learn to be used to hunger in the arena."

table by zoe

[gamemaker tallis 🌱 kaitlin.]

T E R R A.

Already, he's so serious.

I get it—I've been serious for my entire fucking life. I've been a bloodhound for three years and had to follow around a palm-reading mother with a taste for abusive men for the fourteen years before that. I killed my stepfather when I was twelve years old and the Peacekeepers were so startled and confused by the whole event that they called it self-defense and walked away and called a diamond a spade.

Sometimes, life is serious.

But this? Sitting on the train with a victor, me a bloodhound and Daemon, well—whatever Daemon is, something powerful I'm pretty sure—I don't think that Six has terribly much to worry about this year. I'm stronger than everyone gives me credit for and Daemon is literally named after a creature from hell, like.

We got this shit on lock!

I keep putting things on my plate, then walk back over to where Teddy and my district partner are sitting. "Teddy, dude," I say, cocking my head to the side. "That means a lot, truly and sincerely." I think that I must still be on a high, or have lost my mind after being abandoned by the man that's trained me the past three years. "But please, eat some coffee cake," I say extending my hand with a small piece in it towards the victor. "I mean, really, when was the last time a tribute died from hunger?" I ask.

"Death by starvation is boring," I go on, sitting back down across from him. "What Gamemaker is gonna wanna be the idiot to bring back boring deaths?" 

[Tom]

"Teddy, dude,"

Terra Markov doesn't know what he knows. Her head cocked to the side in the way that so many others had looked at him with. Disinterested with him, just like the seventy sixth. Many others saw him as nothing more than a crazy boy from Six because that's the reputation on the district. Teddy Ursa was known as the worst in Six; a mentor who let his mentees kill one another in order to try and win. "That means a lot, truly and sincerely." Part of him wants to believe her words, but he felt the world crumbling around him. Between Parson's baby and his own injuries, things were falling apart for him. Or were they? He couldn't know with the way he's still been the same boy who had been afraid to die in the heat of a paradise island filled with molten rock.

"But please, eat some coffee cake," A hand offered to him, holding out a piece of coffee cake towards him. Almost demeaning in nature, but he was just in his head about every move, every word, every second. He's always been an overthinker getting left behind by his own head. Blood, sweat, and tears given to his mentees every year and only for him to grow older alone and never quite the same. Mackeznie Pryce hadn't reached out to him. Stella Blakesley had been left in Twelve. Lives of their own to live, but he didn't have others like Mackenzie had Jacinta or Stella had all of twelve's victors.

None of them really understood the weight he carries on his shoulders.

Teddy Ursa was Six's only hope.

The crunch, but softness of the piece he takes from Terra sets the tone back to where he's in mentor mode, relaxing a little more than before. "I mean, really, when was the last time a tribute died from hunger?" A chuckle escapes from his throat at the comment. Hunger hasn't been much of a problem anymore. It's still dangerous, but there were more things to worry about than that. "Death by starvation is boring," Terra sits across from him, her words echo the same memories in his mind as Rory Benstaloe had been. Snarky, but truthful. It's almost interesting how different she is to Aeson, but how similar she is too. "What Gamemaker is gonna wanna be the idiot to bring back boring deaths?" A nod as he lets himself relax more.

"As boring as it is, you never know. Six isn't everyone's favorite. We've got a reputation." Lips curl up into a smile as he sets a glass and a bottle of wine in front of himself. Pouring it to the middle of it before leaning back, arm underneath his arm, glass in his free hand as he sips from it before continuing. "Though, you're right. Maybe we should test your skills, Terra? Are you fighter like Aeson Kight or a survivor like Walter Blake?" Eyes glance back to Daemon for a moment before Teddy can let himself focus back on Terra.

"Or will you surprise me, Terra Markov?"

table by zoe

[gamemaker tallis 🌱 kaitlin.]

T E R R A.

He takes the coffee cake, and it really does make me smile.

A big, wide, over-powering kind of smile, the kind that makes most people confused about whether or not it's genuine, especially when it's on my face. It's the kind of smile that's a little off-kilter, a little not quite right, but it's mine, and I'm not afraid to grin and bear it.

I watch as the victor starts to relax, starts to smile, and it makes me happy. I've never been much good with other people, set people on edge, make them uncomfortable, say the wrong thing or make the wrong move and then something good turns into something really really bad and well. I'm glad that at least we're starting out on the right foot—everyone always underestimates Teddy Ursa, and I know what that's like.

I really do hope that coming in questioning the first thing he says doesn't make him think I don't appreciate him, because I do.

I'm free, for the first time.

I'm gonna need a little guidance.

He compares me to Aeson and Walter alike, and I know that his words are supposed to be a compliment. Two kids from Six who made their way further than most kids in non-career districts had any right to get to.

"Well," I say, pursing my lips. "Considering they're both dead, I'd like to think I'm better than either. Wouldn't you agree?"