Joined: Oct 16 2013, 09:10 PM

Dec 14 2013, 11:14 AM #16

Garth had resigned himself to death as soon as the Games started.

There would have been no way he could get through that arena and survive, so he let the brute from One kill him. He'd never expected it to be so painful. There was barely anything for his family to bury when they got his body back. Garth had never been anything special to begin with, and he knew it. When Garth visited his home, it was as if he'd never been there. His parents and brothers worked the farm like nothing had happened. Like they never lost a son. Garth had been a pair of hands on the farm, and nothing else.

He didn't stay long. He had no reason to, his parents and brothers had already moved on without him. So he said good bye to them and left District Ten for good.

Joined: Apr 2 2013, 03:23 AM

Dec 19 2013, 05:41 AM #17

I've seen children arm each other like it's second nature,
Some just wanna watch the world burn,
And bang upon the drums,
And that is why the music and the rhythm will live on,
Cause chaos has a melody and death is like a song.
When people speak about death they do so with a glimmer of hope. White lights, absolution, salvation and redemption. Anjou had never bought in to any of that, he had no chance at holy deliverance but he couldn't bring himself to believe in his own damnation either. He'd never thought that he'd find another world beyond the veil, expecting that when his life ended it would just end. Dark, cold, black, a decaying corpse in the ground. He didn't mind it, he didn't fear it, he wouldn't be around to experience it. His pain would end one day and that would be the end of the story.

He hadn't expected what actually came after he'd exhaled his last breath of life. To be spectacularly back in District Eleven was one of the worse possible outcomes he could experienced but without his choosing, he was there, standing just left of the stage where Harbor Stark had been present to the crowd of hard working, starving citizens that would never see the kind of life that he led, even the one he had before the Games.

Victory had been awarded to the career after he and his partner, the allies that Anjou could have broken had he not gone and gotten himself blown up. His mistake was a stupid one, a careless one and he was more that ashamed of himself. Sahalie's end was a bitter one, the girl had deserved to go home and she had drank poison instead and fallen in the arena. He couldn't help but to be proud of her though, for choosing her own demise instead of handing her life over to the vicious pair from Four.

He looked on as the crowd in the square, their wearies and worries written across sunburned, cracked skin, starred back, not at him but the boy that stood in Stark contrast of their entire district. He hadn't needed this Victory, Four hadn't needed it. He crossed his arms against his chest and he heaved a sigh that nobody would hear. Five hadn't needed the victory either, Eleven had and he could have brought it to them. The longer he stood in the square the more he hated every decision he had made, starting with the one to volunteer.

He had to guess that he was only there for some kind of closure before he could move on to whatever was next. His family would mourn him, as they had his brother before him and out in the dredges of the Slough someone would pour a drink out for the fallen fighter but Anjou had said his good byes long before he'd ever left.
What a world, what a world!

Joined: May 24 2013, 06:59 AM

Dec 20 2013, 01:36 AM #18

“Checkmate, bitch!” the words echoed through Persephone's head as her body tumbled to the ground below, splattering her brains all over the concrete. And now, as a spirit she had chosen to follow Harbor through his adventures as a Victor, a spot that she had earned. Surprisingly, she was not bitter, he had outsmarted her, and it had been her own arrogance which had allowed her to be dropped from the throne. The Knight had turned into a King as the Black Queen had been dethroned, and she couldn't help but admire than from Harbor, truth be told she had not thought he had it in him. She was proud of him, he had allowed her to carry him through the games and then stroke at the right moment, clearly he had been far smarter than she was.

Being dead wasn't all that awful either, she could basically do whatever she wanted with no consequences. She had visited her father once, only to find out that the story of her stolen innocence had came to light and protective as usual, her father had murdered his own brother. Now he faced trial. Persephone was sad, as that was the reason she had never told her father what his brother had done, but perhaps it was for the best, once he died they would be together again and they could forget all the bad things.

Instead, she enjoyed following Harbor and making snarky comments about his everyday life. Trying to give him advice on how to be a good Victor, a better lover with Tide [in more than one sense] and a better representative of their District. She stood by his side as he gave the boring, drawn-out speeches in every District, watched him getting intimate with Tide and spewed an assortment of obnoxiously bitchy comments during it, and tried to step up when things got a little out of control in some districts.

”That color looks hideous on you.” she remarked as they reached the final stop of the tour, their home district. ”You would think you would try to look nice for when we reach home...” she took a bite off an apple and continued following him, harassing him despite having knowledge he could not hear a word she said. It made her feel better to have a say on everything though. ”I have not read your speech, but I swear if you don't talk about how I carried your ass through the Games I am going to be livid.” she continued her heels clicking behind Harbor as they walked to the stage.

Her platform was empty, as her father had not been allowed to join due to his imprisonment. The banner that showed her face was, at least, beautiful, so that made her feel better. She wondered how many people in District Four would have rather seen her as the Victor though, but the thought was short lived as she spotted a face in the crowd that brought an evil smile to her beautiful features: Siren Karabela, the former lover of Tide Fairwind before he had chosen Harbor instead. Persephone couldn't say she wasn't proud that she had spilled the beans in front of Panem, it was the small revenge she had for losing, at the very least. And the news had been buzzing around it, so she had heard the impact her words had made, which warmed her black heart.

With a smirk she jumped off stage and walked towards Siren, the other girl couldn't see her, or hear her. But that didn't mean that Persephone couldn't simply say whatever she wanted.
”You are not that pretty, I can see why he ditched you for Harbor. How humiliating is that though? Harbor Stark? He couldn't even get a decent score. Maybe if you were more of a woman he wouldn't have ditched you for Harbor's little fish-stick. From woman to woman though, you are better off without men. They suck.” and with that she headed back to the stage and stood next to Harbor.

It was odd that out of everyone who she had ever met, he was the closest thing she had to a friend, and she felt the need to hang around and vicariously live his life as a Victor as if it was her own. In her mind, she deserved the title, and in all seriousness the crown would have looked far better in her head than in Harbor's ugly straw colored hair. But he had won fair and square, so who was she to judge?
”Seriously Stark, now that Skipper is in a comma, you better step it up. If we don't get more Fours as Victors I am going to castrate you.” that reminded her, she had to go check on Skipper. She had to make sure she was stable enough so that her body would be ready for whenever her spirit would come back to it. And if there was one thing Persephone was going to do was bring back the best Victor ever to live to District Four.

With a sigh she gave a condescending little pat to Harbor's shoulder, she would have to miss the part of the speech that spoke about her, but she was sure to catch it during the re-runs. But duty called, and she had to go take care of everything because there was no way Stark could handle all the responsibilities.

Life as an dead Victor was hard.

Joined: Apr 7 2013, 01:43 AM

Dec 20 2013, 04:12 AM #19

Every district within Panem had tested his patience.

District One. Where their luxury items were taken for granted inside the Capitol, where their shining personalities never went unnoticed. Harbor kept gazing off at the numerous amounts of shops as he went, his focus elsewhere but his feet working their way towards the stage, eyes vacant of anything but remorse. He climbed the steps, forcing a gentle smile onto his face as he took his place on the stage; his fingers were pressed into his palm, instilling a confident posture within those that took his presence in. He looked over at the two other stages, absorbing the final images of Onyx, and then Precious. Harbor snarled at the picture of the younger Career, taking a deep breath before delivering his speech.

District Two. The air in this district was different as he left the train, maybe due to the fact that District Two was surrounded by mountains, but he could never lose sight of how magnaficient it became with every step he took into district boundaries. He remained stoic, although his interest in the rocky district was clear inside his own head, which he keep to himself while taking the familiar stride up the stairs, setting himself into his spot, his eyes grazing over the final images of Brawny and Aventurine, and then going on with the prepared speech. Just as he was about to close, someone drew out in a shrill laugh that echoed through the crowd. Harbor rolled his eyes, unaffected by the bitterness that District Two held onto and choosing to go silent when a Peacekeeper marched on over to force silence upon the disturbance.

He watched the Peacekeeper slam the man onto his back, gun pointed down at his face. The civilians of District Two were running, scattering in different directions. Harbor could feel a hand snake onto his shoulder, to pry him away from the scene, but he shook it off and ventured closer to the edge to see the headless carcass of a citizen. Harbor didn't realize that his presence could invoke such behavior, but it was the man's choice to condemn the boy from Four. And with that in mind, he took his leave.

District Three. Their technology was suburb here, most of it given to the Capitol, but still very much appreciated and used. Harbor could only look to the fact that they had produced a stupid tribute who thought she could mouth off against Persephone and win, and a younger tribute that merely got in the way of the Careers. He took his place on the stage, looking out to the images of their tributes. Half way into the speech about the tributes from Three, Harbor could feel relief washing over him. He hadn't been responsible for killing either tributes from Three, however, he did take part in both murders. Suddenly, everyone in the crowd began to look away, giving their attention to something possibly more interesting than the same, repetitive speech the Victor gave.

When he, too, looked over to the distraction, Harbor saw a woman; her features were constricted with hurt, her body on the ground, and with Peacekeepers marching over to tend to the problem - he didn't even care anymore. It was no skin off his bones to have them cut this short, and so he turned away, walking off the stage. His eyes carrying a vacant fuck for this Victory Tour as a whole.

District Four was immediately skipped for the end, earning a scowl from Harbor, but he knew home could wait a little longer. He just didn't know if he, himself, could do the same thing.

District Five. Harbor held no care for the boy from Five, he didn't even know him, and was dead on the first day. When he looked over at the image of the younger girl, his lips twitched into an immediate frown. "She did well for a girl her age, I have to give her that." It that was little thing that kept his mind from spiraling into insults, so that ended his journey in the district that produced power.

District Six. A grimy place to begin with, but none of that really mattered as much as the smell of oil drifted in the air. Harbor sighed, slipping onto the stage and finding that he really didn't know either of their tributes. Nothing he could say would ever matter when he didn't have a hand in their murder or a foot closer to knowing them personally.

District Seven. This place held millions of trees, as far as he could see, which looked just as amazing with every minute he caught the sun peering down on the pines. Harbor only knew the male for this district, but not as well as he had hoped. He was Harbor's third kill in the Hunger Games as well, which left him responsible for District Seven not being able to produce a Victor.

District Eight. Harbor dreaded coming here, because stepping out drew every bit of anger from his body and into his posture, his jaw was clenched as he made his way up there on the stage. In front of the whole district, Harbor could say that he basically radiated hate for the home that Thread Thimbleston was produced from. When he gazed at the picture of the fallen male tribute, he grew livid with himself, for letting the boy get away and for letting that little girl get the best of him. But she was adorable and so very innocent, Harbor would never forget her. If she hadn't interfered though, Thread would have been Harbor's kill. It drove him crazy just standing there too, waiting for the words to fall out so he could leave, but his eyes drew closed for a moment, coming right to the end of his speech. "Pup.." He trailed off, finding the right words inside his head. "I can honestly tell he loved you. He was so determined to make it, just for you, and that makes him a greater man than I can truly explain in detail," then that was it, Harbor stalked off the stage in a quiet manner, eyes opening to the bright sun and almost wondering if Thread was here, and could understand why the Victor from Four was so angry with him.

District Nine. Somehow, Harbor had been capable of killing both their tributes. This making them his first and second kill of the Hunger Games. He didn't know either of them, but one he had so brutally murdered by hacking away into his back and the other was taken from the world with just one swipe of his axe. This place held a lot of hate for him, and maybe he could understand, but it wasn't like he had a choice. There was a difference between life and death, after all.

District Ten. Probably the only district that gave off the most foul smell possible. It was no wonder their children this year resembled one of a toad and the other a deranged dolphin with a really ugly face. The smell must have gotten to them both. Harbor could wipe this district off the back of his foot since he had no idea what happened to these tributes in the first place.

District Eleven. He remembered trying to kill their girl, and allying with the boy. Unfortunately, he got no where near murdering their female. It didn't really matter anyway, because he could honestly say that their male was a strong ally, and Harbor could only be grateful for his assistance when it came to the finale. They had made a deal after all, which had made the boy from Eleven keep to his word in helping defeat Precious and Brawny.

District Twelve held no significance, either. Harbor tried killing their female, which didn't work, and Harbor was present for the boy's murder, but had no actual part in it. Maybe he did have a part, by standing there and watching him get slaughtered. To him though, he walked in at the wrong time.

Finally, Harbor Stark was back in District Four. The bright sun fell on him, a ray of sunlight was beaming down on him, spreading his senses wide with joy and the sounds of the familiar beach water working its way up on the shore began to be some sort of song. Harbor enjoyed walking its boundaries again, the bright faces of the civilians greeting him and then taking his place on stage to look up at Persephone's own stage. No one stood up there, but Harbor remembered her mentioning a father as well. Why didn't he come? Did he not care for his daughter? Harbor sighed, leaving his place to hop off the stage and walk over to his fallen, tribute counter part's platform. He didn't stand though, just sat down on the edge, looking over his district with a neutral gaze. He came short of a glimpse of Siren, the girl he would soon encounter. A smile graced his lips at the thought, taking his time in letting his speech wind through his home. Tide had probably left him by now to take care of the trash, which was the only malicious thought that ran through his head after giving District Four the usual speech.

After five days of living on the edge, thriving on self doubts on whether or not he would return to District Four. Harbor was grateful to be just standing, breathing even, because he was no longer surrounded by danger - but of the calming waves, the warm air and bright sun that would awake him every day for the rest of his life. If he was lucky enough, Tide would be right there with him. He could smile, breathe or talk. Any of that could easily make his day more tolerable. Everything about his fiance could make life a little more tolerable when he thought about it.

Luck. It seemed that it didn't take much to bring his spirits down, because with realizing such a word, he fell short of his confidence. Thankfully, the Victory Tour was done and Harbor could no longer feel the looming threat of the Hunger Games on his shoulders.
I tried to throw it away,
I tried to burn it like a photograph
But when I close my eyes, I see it in my mind
Like it's happening

I got so good at the game,
No one could tell that I was faking sane
I guess I still survived, but this grudge was mine
I couldn't bear to watch it shine
[+] spoiler

Joined: Apr 9 2013, 10:23 AM

Dec 20 2013, 06:49 PM #20

Given how brutal his death had been Miles really ought to be angry seeing the man who killed him standing on stage in front of the sullen crowd, talking through his speech as though he believed in it, not looking sorry.

But he couldn’t be bothered with anger now. He felt only…disappointment. If he’d know the boy who killed him would actually live himself he would have asked him to take a message home, or maybe give poor Honey back her bracelet.

And of course bitter disappointment he would not live. He resented dieing, but not his murderer. It was better perhaps this way, he would never have made it to victory the same man that left, and he’d died early enough to know his soul was still his own, untainted by the capitol. The man would have his whole life to regret the blood on his hands.

“You don’t know it yet, but the dead are the lucky ones.” Miles sighed to himself, and went off to more important things like checking on his family.

His mother was in tears of course, but Honey’s pa had his arm round her, winnow and poppy were hanging on to poppy and they were all standing in a group. A family. They’d all get through it, it’d hurt and it’d sting, but they’d get through it together.

“You promised you’d take care of them.” he reminded Honey’s pa. “you better do it, I’ll be watching.”
Miles stuck around to keep his promise too, he haunted the house as subtly as possible, waiting for the wedding day, and only when he’d danced at his mother’s wedding did he slip from this weary world and leave it far behind him.