Amari Cooper of District 6 was still stunned. As soon as he woke up and the soft light illuminated the room with a warm glow, however, he knew he was dead. He wasn't sure how he was conscious, but he was dead. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to keep away tears. He felt absolutely horrible. How could he have done this to his friends and family back home? He was going to win for Karima, and for Billie, and... There was so much riding on this.
When he managed to get to his feet, he realized he had wings. They weren't like the fake pieces of PVC pipe he and Kyle used to try and attach to their backs. No, these were real, honest-to-god, warm, soft, feathery wings.
Amari's first thought was, quite simply, I don't deserve to be here. That was the most confusing part of it all. He wasn't sure what he might have done to deserve this... This peace. This calm feeling. This warmth. He didn't know, but he was glad he did it.
Amari walked slowly out of the room. He really wanted to try out the wings, but figured that he would save that until a better day when he wasn't feeling so down. He missed Kyle and Lydia already, even his parents. They were all thinking about him, too, which made the moment even more bittersweet. He saw Billie first, but looked away from her. After everything she had been screaming at him in the Arena, he couldn't face her. Maybe she didn't really think those things. But maybe she did. After all, Amari and Lydia had made fun of her even before the reaping began and they were both shipped off to that mess.
Amari moved his thoughts away from that and to the present. The ground under his feet was soft and he felt no discomfort or pain. He felt light as a feather, like nothing would ever weigh him down again. He wasn't hungry or thirsty, and he wasn't anxious or afraid. Not anymore.
He was startled when he saw a figure dashing towards him, as quick and agile as a bunny. He was surprised when Karima fluttered towards him, practically gliding with her wings, and spun him around in a tight, off-the-ground hug.
"Woah! Hey Karima!" he tried not to sound surprised. After all, they had been allies. He just felt bad for how he treated her through everything, really. He hadn't kept a good enough eye on her and she ended up dying because he wasn't awake when she left. He didn't really want to think about the black and white and moral gray area, so he focused on reuniting with his friend instead.
"Amari," she said quietly, her voice quivering slightly.
"Don't cry," he said quietly. If she was going to he might just cry in sympathy, and he wouldn't want that.
"Sorry," she squeaked quietly, burying her face in his neck.
"I'm sorry. I really wanted to win for you. For everyone."
"I know," she said, trying to keep her voice steady and not succeeding very well. "It's okay. We're here now."
Amari blinked away some tears, but when he heard Karima sobbing into his neck he broke and they started to drip out of his eyes and down his cheeks. The allies, friends, and youngest tributes of the Games stayed there like that for a good while.
Somewhere, deep down, they knew that they had to let out the sorrow and misery before the process of healing could truly begin.
~.~.
District 11's Edgard Lowell kept his eyes closed.
So it really was true. He was the first of his allies to die.
It didn't matter. Well, of course it mattered, but Edgard was used to downplaying what he was feeling. Somehow, he knew that he wouldn't be able to do that any longer.
He didn't want Kendal to think it was his fault. Raoul was more rational and more Games-minded, he would eventually get over it. Well, as much as you could get over it in an Arena like the hell they had lived through, that is.
Kendal, though, would feel sorry. Edgard was sure of it. He didn't want him to be sorry, though. All this time Edgard had been so confused, searching for his purpose in life, trying to find where he fit, and he had found it. Somewhere within the chaos of confronting the Careers, Edgard had decided that maybe his purpose wasn't something he would figure out in a couple years. Maybe his purpose had been laid out before him his entire life, and now was the critical moment. His purpose was to give his allies another chance. And he'd served that purpose in full.
He felt peace more than anything. Sure, Kayla and Mich were missing him, but they had each other. His parents missed him, but they had each other. Kendal and Raoul were one step closer to making it home, and Edgard was rooting for them the entire way.
So, why be sad? Edgard felt free from the chains of his worry about who he was. He had a better idea now, now that he'd sacrificed himself for his friends. He stood up and was about to step into a new world when he heard the whimpering of a boy who had just lost everything he had ever wanted.
~.~.
District 1's Callum Ainsworth hated himself.
Even the anger he felt was subdued. He couldn't be mad. He felt so fragile, like he would break if he was nudged the wrong way, that he would crash into a million pieces.
How could he have been so stupid?
It was the rashest decision he'd ever made. How was he supposed to be peaceful about it? He never should have gone into the Games, and he'd realized it too late. He still wasn't exactly sure who killed him, it was kind of a blur, but he didn't care. He was the first of the Careers pack to die. At least it wasn't in the bloodbath, he tried to convince himself. He would have absolutely been the laughing stock of the District if he'd died in the bloodbath. What a legacy that would have been.
Maybe he should've just let Gravity go into the Games like he was supposed to. Maybe he should have stayed with his friends and grandparents. Even if that's what he should have done, he couldn't change it now. He couldn't change te fact that Amory and Niss were probably mad as hell at him and he couldn't do anything about it. Who would take care of his grandparents? He didn't want them to join him too soon.
They were thinking about him. All of them. It was a bittersweet sensation that was both warming and painful at the same time. He let them down. He let them all down. He would fade away into nothing just like the rest of the mediocre District 1 boys that went into the Games. Gravity was amazing, he would have taken the win for sure. Callum had failed. He wasn't anything great, he wasn't strong like the rest of them, he wasn't like them. He wasn't better than them. He was just so average.
And that stung. It stung a lot. The realization that everything he'd wanted was for absolutely nothing. He couldn't change anything now. He was stuck here, away from them. He was useless.
"Are you okay?"
Callum jumped, shattering as he looked up at the boy from 11, the boy that was killed by Callum's alliance. He stared at him, so Edgard repeated the question.
"We're dead!" Callum said. Tears traced their way down his cheeks. "Can't you see that?"
"Of course I can. But I can't change that now. Why worry about it?"
"Because, we left them!! We left them all!"
"I know. It's hard. But that's the purpose we were meant to serve."
"Purpose?"
"I died to give my allies a second chance."
"I didn't. I was..." Callum thought back. He was in so much pain, fighting to hang onto life when it happened. "I was killed in cold blood."
Edgard sat down next to the 1 boy and wrapped him up in his warm, feathery wings. "But you volunteered for that guy."
"He would have won," Callum said miserably. "He was the selected volunteer."
"Well, now he has a chance to do something else. A second chance. Because of you."
Callum felt much calmer, but still just as upset. He cried quietly into his knees, enjoying the comfort of Edgard, wrapped around him like a blanket.
"He won't take it," Callum sniffled. "I dishonored him."
"Maybe he will. He has to get back up on his feet someday."
Callum didn't know what to say to that and was too tired to retort, so he stayed there, curled up, crying quietly. He expected Edgard to decide it was pointless and leave, but the 11 boy stayed with him patiently.
Callum was quiet for a while before Edgard stood up and brought him slowly to his feet.
"There's a new world out there just waiting for us," Edgard said gentle. "Let's see what it has in store."
Callum swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."
Together, they stepped outside into the great behind, leaving their past sorrows, pain, and confusion behind.
Sunday, January 29, 2017
Sunday, January 15, 2017
District 3 Chibis!
Female Tribute: Cyra Hensley, 18- HogwartsDreamer113
Male Tribute: Ductor Romilly, 15- Rockafansky
Escort: Elizabeth Pond- Emrys Holmes
Male Mentor: Beetee Latier- Suzanne Collins
Female Mentor: Kitty Summons- Criss-Kenobie-The-Numenorean
All together! Yay!
Male Tribute: Ductor Romilly, 15- Rockafansky
Escort: Elizabeth Pond- Emrys Holmes
Male Mentor: Beetee Latier- Suzanne Collins
Female Mentor: Kitty Summons- Criss-Kenobie-The-Numenorean
Sunday, January 8, 2017
84 Afterlife!AU, Part 2
District 9's Karima Highland woke up with a start.
She looked around, dazed, unsure of where she was. Her last moments had been such a blur. She didn't know what happened to her, where she was, she wasn't even sure what day it was.
Tucked safely into her arm was the little bunny doll she had been working so hard to find, even though she hadn't remembered finding it. The little bunny was just as she remembered it, and she was relieved that it was safe. She looked around the room. It was bright and cheerful, warm and cozy. It wasn't the Arena. She wasn't sure where she had wandered to. She began to think she might have teleported. She had just been running, her mind in a haze, when a bright flash stunned her. After an explosion of pain, she woke up here.
The realization of what happened came slowly, but painfully.
She had lost. She was dead.
Karima was sad, but at the same time there was this warm, calm feeling that washed over her as she sat up. It was as if she'd acquired a sixth sense and could feel the peace of those down there in Panem that were thinking about her up here. She'd let them down. She'd fallen. She wasn't the best. She sighed as she stood up slowly. When she did, she felt the wings that stretched gracefully as she stretched her arms. It was a surreal feeling, but far from unwelcome.
Shyly, Karima snuck out of the room and into the great beyond. She wasn't sure who she would find there, or what she would see, but the curiosity was too much. She saw other people, beautiful people with large, white, soft, graceful wings, gliding along and greeting each other, without a care in the world. She snuck out of the room, looking for any familiar faces.
"Karima?" She looked up and saw Wren from 12 coming towards her, and felt happy to see someone familiar. The 12 girl enveloped the 15-year-old in a hug even though they'd barely talked. The girls understood each other, ultimately, and both needed support in this time. It was tough, leaving the world, leaving friends and family, especially leaving so young and so suddenly. Karima missed her parents, her poor grandmother, and, of course, Ferris, who surely wouldn't fare well without her. She was worried about him, ultimately. Even though she tried everything to show him up, she still cared about him. He was her best friend. He was thinking about her, probably wondering what he would do without her. Wren let her go and went back to Serafina Anya, who was watching quietly, not sure what to say to Karima.
"It gets easier," Wren said quietly, and Karima nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat.
"Okay."
"I know it's hard," she said quietly. "But peace will come." She looked up to where Felicity was running freely, the little wisp of a girl running beside her mother.
Karima nodded, taking a deep breath.
Peace will come someday. She hoped that it was someday soon.
~.~.
District 12's Leo Aslan opened his eyes.
He immediately knew what he had done. He remembered everything that happened, the scene played before his eyes, almost as if it was on a loop. He had given up his chance. He was dead.
He took a deep breath. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting death to be like. It was both quicker and slower than he imagined it would be. It was over. He was dead. It was such a weird realization. Leo stood up slowly, adjusting to the light. The room was warm and comfortable, but that didn't eliminate the sadness that he'd just lost his chance.
He hated the Hunger Games. He hated them so much.
Leo thought about his family and felt even worse. They were thinking about him, more than ever. Were they mad at him for what he'd done?
He was sure his mother was an emotional wreck. She was usually alright at putting on a happy face, but now she would need some time to grieve and realize what was happening. His father would work, work away the pain, repaying favors to those that he owed. Leo hoped he was proud, even if he was upset. He knew that Dereck, despite his layers of chattering and joking, would be upset about this. Of everyone, he was the most likely to be angry. Leo knew his brother. He knew that Dereck wouldn't understand why he did what he did. He knew that Dereck would be angry and upset, mad at him for what he did. He would be angry, and call Leo selfish, for leaving the family in a time that they needed him, for throwing away his chance to make it home. Leo wasn't stupid, he knew his family was depending on him. He knew what he was doing when he did it. He knew that Dereck especially would be angry, that if Leo came home a Victor, they wouldn't have had to worry about a single thing ever again, their father wouldn't have to work so hard, their mother wouldn't have to spend the rest of her days worried and crying, things would have been perfect, they wouldn't have had a single problem or care.
And he was here on his own accord.
Surely Albus would understand. Even if nobody else did, sure Albus would understand why he couldn't let Cory die. Surely, even if he didn't agree, he'd understand. Maybe he'd be able to explain it to Dereck. Even if he couldn't, Leo didn't care. He just hoped that Albus would understand. He hoped that Albus didn't assume that Leo didn't love him because of what he did. Leo loved Albus, and his entire family, so much. It wasn't because of them that he chose to give up his chance. It was Leo's decision.
Rebecca was the last one. She still hadn't been given the Games talk, but now that Leo was dead, she was going to have to. She would have figured it out for herself later, anyways. She probably wouldn't really understand what he did, especially because she wasn't going to be allowed to watch it for a while. Surely his parents wouldn't do that to her. Surely not.
He wondered what she might think of him when she got older and watched for herself. He only hoped that she'd be proud of him.
Leo got to his feet and took a deep breath. He knew that he was being thought about, by his family and Cory, and the crowd that was impressed with what he'd done. He slowly exited the room into the great beyond, hoping that his ally had what it took to win, and maybe even take care of the ones that he loved.
~.~.
District 5's Hamilton Rayce blinked blearily.
So, this was the afterlife. It felt... Strange.
Hamilton took a deep breath and got up on his feet. He felt different, yet not different. He jumped when he felt the growths on his shoulders, and when he reached up felt the softest, warmest wings he could have ever imagined. He was excited, but also nervous. He took a deep breath and started walking.
He hadn't proven himself. Jackson would forever be on his high horse. He would never realize that he was mortal, that he wasn't all that great. Hamilton didn't miss him, and assumed that Jackson wouldn't miss him either. He would miss his mother, and felt bad for leaving her, but he didn't care about his father, or his brother. Of course he would miss Millie and Albert, both of whom were thinking about him a lot. He felt horrible that he didn't have what it took to get back to them. However, there was one burning question in his mind, and he had to get it answered as soon as he could. Hamilton stepped out of the warm, welcoming room, and quickly searched for any half-familiar face that could tell him if Cyra was okay.
"Hamilton!" he heard a familiar voice, and saw Ductor coming at him, full speed. He practically tackled his ally and friend in a tight hug, and Hamilton felt Ductor's warm, feathery wings wrap around him. He hugged his friend back, glad to see him, as tears pooled into his eyes.
"Cyra's alone out there," he hiccuped. "I didn't mean to-"
"It's alright," Ductor said quietly. "She can handle it. You can't change it now." His voice and breathing were calm and steady, and Hamilton focused on the comfort of being reuinted with a friend instead of the pain and heartbreak of those he left behind. It was easier said than done, of course, and Hamilton's eyes leaked tears that slid gently down his cheeks. Being away from them hurt, knowing that he wasn't good enough hurt, knowing that people would totally glaze over him, never bothering to care about that random little boy that died early on in one of 84 Games, each with 23 tributes that were dead just like him... God, it was hard.
"It's nice here," Ductor said quietly, but heknew it was no real consolation, no real comfort. Hamilton appreciated his friend trying, though, and did his best to control his tears. He felt calm and peaceful though the ache of being apart from everyone he loved was still present in his gut.
"It hurts," Hamilton said quietly, crying. "It's not fair."
"I know," Ductor whispered, still holding him close. Ductor knew that it was best to just let Hamilton come to acceptance with his fate. He had been through all the stages of grief at being separated from his friends and family.
"Can we see Cyra?" Hamilton asked, once he was able to control his tears enough to speak.
"If you really want to, yes," Ductor said, letting Hamilton go slowly but still staying close to him. "I can take you there, if you want. But... Maybe you should give it some time."
"What else is there to do?" Hamilton asked. He had never considered the afterlife a possibility, and soon his sadness gave way to pure, untinted curiosity.
"Lots of things," Ductor said, his lips forming a smile. "Come with me, and I'll show you!"
Ductor started off, and Hamilton quickly followed his friend.
She looked around, dazed, unsure of where she was. Her last moments had been such a blur. She didn't know what happened to her, where she was, she wasn't even sure what day it was.
Tucked safely into her arm was the little bunny doll she had been working so hard to find, even though she hadn't remembered finding it. The little bunny was just as she remembered it, and she was relieved that it was safe. She looked around the room. It was bright and cheerful, warm and cozy. It wasn't the Arena. She wasn't sure where she had wandered to. She began to think she might have teleported. She had just been running, her mind in a haze, when a bright flash stunned her. After an explosion of pain, she woke up here.
The realization of what happened came slowly, but painfully.
She had lost. She was dead.
Karima was sad, but at the same time there was this warm, calm feeling that washed over her as she sat up. It was as if she'd acquired a sixth sense and could feel the peace of those down there in Panem that were thinking about her up here. She'd let them down. She'd fallen. She wasn't the best. She sighed as she stood up slowly. When she did, she felt the wings that stretched gracefully as she stretched her arms. It was a surreal feeling, but far from unwelcome.
Shyly, Karima snuck out of the room and into the great beyond. She wasn't sure who she would find there, or what she would see, but the curiosity was too much. She saw other people, beautiful people with large, white, soft, graceful wings, gliding along and greeting each other, without a care in the world. She snuck out of the room, looking for any familiar faces.
"Karima?" She looked up and saw Wren from 12 coming towards her, and felt happy to see someone familiar. The 12 girl enveloped the 15-year-old in a hug even though they'd barely talked. The girls understood each other, ultimately, and both needed support in this time. It was tough, leaving the world, leaving friends and family, especially leaving so young and so suddenly. Karima missed her parents, her poor grandmother, and, of course, Ferris, who surely wouldn't fare well without her. She was worried about him, ultimately. Even though she tried everything to show him up, she still cared about him. He was her best friend. He was thinking about her, probably wondering what he would do without her. Wren let her go and went back to Serafina Anya, who was watching quietly, not sure what to say to Karima.
"It gets easier," Wren said quietly, and Karima nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat.
"Okay."
"I know it's hard," she said quietly. "But peace will come." She looked up to where Felicity was running freely, the little wisp of a girl running beside her mother.
Karima nodded, taking a deep breath.
Peace will come someday. She hoped that it was someday soon.
~.~.
District 12's Leo Aslan opened his eyes.
He immediately knew what he had done. He remembered everything that happened, the scene played before his eyes, almost as if it was on a loop. He had given up his chance. He was dead.
He took a deep breath. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting death to be like. It was both quicker and slower than he imagined it would be. It was over. He was dead. It was such a weird realization. Leo stood up slowly, adjusting to the light. The room was warm and comfortable, but that didn't eliminate the sadness that he'd just lost his chance.
He hated the Hunger Games. He hated them so much.
Leo thought about his family and felt even worse. They were thinking about him, more than ever. Were they mad at him for what he'd done?
He was sure his mother was an emotional wreck. She was usually alright at putting on a happy face, but now she would need some time to grieve and realize what was happening. His father would work, work away the pain, repaying favors to those that he owed. Leo hoped he was proud, even if he was upset. He knew that Dereck, despite his layers of chattering and joking, would be upset about this. Of everyone, he was the most likely to be angry. Leo knew his brother. He knew that Dereck wouldn't understand why he did what he did. He knew that Dereck would be angry and upset, mad at him for what he did. He would be angry, and call Leo selfish, for leaving the family in a time that they needed him, for throwing away his chance to make it home. Leo wasn't stupid, he knew his family was depending on him. He knew what he was doing when he did it. He knew that Dereck especially would be angry, that if Leo came home a Victor, they wouldn't have had to worry about a single thing ever again, their father wouldn't have to work so hard, their mother wouldn't have to spend the rest of her days worried and crying, things would have been perfect, they wouldn't have had a single problem or care.
And he was here on his own accord.
Surely Albus would understand. Even if nobody else did, sure Albus would understand why he couldn't let Cory die. Surely, even if he didn't agree, he'd understand. Maybe he'd be able to explain it to Dereck. Even if he couldn't, Leo didn't care. He just hoped that Albus would understand. He hoped that Albus didn't assume that Leo didn't love him because of what he did. Leo loved Albus, and his entire family, so much. It wasn't because of them that he chose to give up his chance. It was Leo's decision.
Rebecca was the last one. She still hadn't been given the Games talk, but now that Leo was dead, she was going to have to. She would have figured it out for herself later, anyways. She probably wouldn't really understand what he did, especially because she wasn't going to be allowed to watch it for a while. Surely his parents wouldn't do that to her. Surely not.
He wondered what she might think of him when she got older and watched for herself. He only hoped that she'd be proud of him.
Leo got to his feet and took a deep breath. He knew that he was being thought about, by his family and Cory, and the crowd that was impressed with what he'd done. He slowly exited the room into the great beyond, hoping that his ally had what it took to win, and maybe even take care of the ones that he loved.
~.~.
District 5's Hamilton Rayce blinked blearily.
So, this was the afterlife. It felt... Strange.
Hamilton took a deep breath and got up on his feet. He felt different, yet not different. He jumped when he felt the growths on his shoulders, and when he reached up felt the softest, warmest wings he could have ever imagined. He was excited, but also nervous. He took a deep breath and started walking.
He hadn't proven himself. Jackson would forever be on his high horse. He would never realize that he was mortal, that he wasn't all that great. Hamilton didn't miss him, and assumed that Jackson wouldn't miss him either. He would miss his mother, and felt bad for leaving her, but he didn't care about his father, or his brother. Of course he would miss Millie and Albert, both of whom were thinking about him a lot. He felt horrible that he didn't have what it took to get back to them. However, there was one burning question in his mind, and he had to get it answered as soon as he could. Hamilton stepped out of the warm, welcoming room, and quickly searched for any half-familiar face that could tell him if Cyra was okay.
"Hamilton!" he heard a familiar voice, and saw Ductor coming at him, full speed. He practically tackled his ally and friend in a tight hug, and Hamilton felt Ductor's warm, feathery wings wrap around him. He hugged his friend back, glad to see him, as tears pooled into his eyes.
"Cyra's alone out there," he hiccuped. "I didn't mean to-"
"It's alright," Ductor said quietly. "She can handle it. You can't change it now." His voice and breathing were calm and steady, and Hamilton focused on the comfort of being reuinted with a friend instead of the pain and heartbreak of those he left behind. It was easier said than done, of course, and Hamilton's eyes leaked tears that slid gently down his cheeks. Being away from them hurt, knowing that he wasn't good enough hurt, knowing that people would totally glaze over him, never bothering to care about that random little boy that died early on in one of 84 Games, each with 23 tributes that were dead just like him... God, it was hard.
"It's nice here," Ductor said quietly, but heknew it was no real consolation, no real comfort. Hamilton appreciated his friend trying, though, and did his best to control his tears. He felt calm and peaceful though the ache of being apart from everyone he loved was still present in his gut.
"It hurts," Hamilton said quietly, crying. "It's not fair."
"I know," Ductor whispered, still holding him close. Ductor knew that it was best to just let Hamilton come to acceptance with his fate. He had been through all the stages of grief at being separated from his friends and family.
"Can we see Cyra?" Hamilton asked, once he was able to control his tears enough to speak.
"If you really want to, yes," Ductor said, letting Hamilton go slowly but still staying close to him. "I can take you there, if you want. But... Maybe you should give it some time."
"What else is there to do?" Hamilton asked. He had never considered the afterlife a possibility, and soon his sadness gave way to pure, untinted curiosity.
"Lots of things," Ductor said, his lips forming a smile. "Come with me, and I'll show you!"
Ductor started off, and Hamilton quickly followed his friend.
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