Post by Prince(ss) Joe ★ on Jul 5, 2015 19:48:43 GMT -8
((all the typical warnings you would expect with the Hunger Games apply.
Hope y'all enjoy this one too. :p ))
Oliver Jack Kirkland, was, by all means, nervous and scared. What, frankly, was the likelihood of one of his family being chosen? Honestly, it was only him and his twin brother, Arthur. Just them to be chosen from. And they were only entered in twice each! But the terrifying thing was, both of them were so, so weak.
Sure, Artie was good with an oven stove and meat and veggies, and good at hunting, and Oliver could throw a knife decently and could bake like a pro, and had quite the extensive knowledge of plants. But, the reality was, if either of them was chosen for this, the other would surely volunteer. Except, Arthur couldn't volunteer for Oliver, because, in the Capitol's dumb technicalities, Oliver was apparently a girl. And as Oliver stood there, waiting for the girl's name to be called, the name rung through his and his brother's ears as if it were a death sentence - and rightfully, in a way, it was. "Olivia Kirkland."
Birth name. How utterly petty.
"No, no, don't, Oliver, l- I VOL-" Oliver, however, soon put a hand over his twin's mouth. "Artie, l..I have to do this. You can't volunteer for me, and you know why. I'll do this, I promise. For you. I... I'll do this, and I'll probably die, but... we had fun. You and I, Kiku, all our friends, we had fun. Okay? And I love you and that's all that matters and golly, I've got to go up there, Artie, I, I - we can talk later, just please, please stay... " he said all this in a whisper, so scared to be heard by the crowd, but doing so anyway as he gave his brother a short hug before running up to the stage and laughing, laughing. Laughing, because this was all he was. Destined to kill or be killed, so he laughed. It was better than crying, surely.
He waited for the other person to be called, silently. The person he'd most likely have to end up killing, but at least it wasn't Arthur. Or was it going to be? Oh, he hoped it wasn't Arthur. Siblings were so important they were to die for, weren't they?
Oliver ceased his laughing for just a moment when the boy's name was called, and already it seemed like tears were coming to his eyes, so he chuckled a bit breathlessly yet again, and just kept laughing. Better known insane than weak, as his father had told him once. He looked over to the man that was now his enemy in a sense, and tried to look right into those eyes, tried to give the other a look that refrained from showing feeling. No hate, but no compassion, that's how this was supposed to work, right?
This was a killing game, and that was the bottom line, no time for making friends. No time for chitchatting, it was all survival. Survive. Be the last one standing, somehow, be proud that in some manner, you survived by spilling the blood of others. Destruction of human life was all this event was, and it truly sickened Oliver to the very core of him.
All Oliver wanted to do was wrap all the contestants up in a soft, warm blanket and send them all home, but that, evidently, would never happen. And he had to deal with the fact that, the odds are, he'll die, so he better make his death somewhat memorable. Maybe he'd make some sort of acquaintance just so they can put pretty olliander flowers around him when he died. But, no. Right now,on camera, as he shook the man's hand with the firmest he could muster, he had to seem strong, he had to seem good Games material, or else he'd be a major target. Hence, that's exactly what he did. Lacked emotion. At least, when he was on camera. God knows he'd bawl his eyes out the minute he got off of it.
God knew he would get right into that last-minute-hugging room and cry his eyes out into Arthur's arms.
And that's just what he did.
He was so, so weak and he hated it. He was going to drop dead, he just knew it. He knew it, he knew it, he knew it. And so glad he was when there was a final last 'cheer’ and they were all ushered off the stage, into rooms. Five minutes per meeting. Great, could Arthur just have like.... twenty meetings? Seemingly, that was not how it worked here.
Arthur did come into the room, though, but it was simply Arthur. His father was who knew where, most likely dead in the forest - but the twins always liked to think his runaway was successful, and their mother... well, their mother... they never really had a mother, to put the pity story away. It was only them, only him and Arthur. And the first thing Arthur did?
Chuckle, that's what he did. "Ha! That was a good joke out there, them saying you were chosen as tribute.. When are they choosing the actual one?" Oliver stared at his brother and smiled. Oh, Artie, trying to use sarcasm as an excuse for everything - especially his feelings. "l mean, obviously, they know you're just so innocent and weak and clearly not eligible for this blasted game - I mean, clearly, they.. obviously.." And that was when the tears started clouding up in Arthur’s eyes and the other instantly started hugging Oliver, and all Oliver could do was hug back warmly as his twin brother, his only close companion since his father ran away, sobbed in his arms. "Five.. five minutes, who do they reckon.... think they are?"
And Oliver, of course, started crying as well, and the rest of the terribly short meeting was a sobbing mess of hugs and words that someone would normally discuss with their twin brother when they knew they were going to never see them again. At least the meeting ended on a somewhat positive note, the telling of memories and jokes from their time together. But then the meeting was over, and Arthur, while giving his younger brother a last
hug, gave Oliver a tiny little button, a tiny little button that was dark green with a gold heart in the middle. So simple and small, yet.. it was the last Oliver would have of Arthur.
As Oliver waved goodbye to his twin brother on the train, he refrained from the crying that the cameras would clearly see, but the look in Artie‘s eyes told him that his brother had some sort of hope he'd survive. A lost hope, yes, but a hope nonetheless. And if that was all Oliver would fight for, then so be it, he'd fight for Arthur. Yes, he will.
Eventually, someone showed him to his room, and his bed was already made and there were even new clothes - but no bowties! Oliver smirked to himself, remembering what Arthur told him about forgetting about problems you can't do anything about.
He couldn't do a thing about this "problem" until they started training, so for now, why couldn't he smile and laugh about the fact that he had tied exactly 23 bowties to his underwear before the Reaping because he knew they'd have no bowties? Because he certainly did laugh about that matter as he set down the green button onto the windowsill. The train was actually rather nice, most likely given to the district by the Capitol itself, the nicest building Oliver had been in other than this train was the town bakery. So, he continued on, removing bowties from his underpants.
After finishing the bowtie jazz, Oliver put them all into one drawer and put on his favorite bright blue one that matched his eyes. He wondered what they were having for dinner as he closed his eyes and smelled the air. Smelled a bit like turkey. He combed through his hair a bit - kill that man he may, but he was cute, nonetheless, and Oliver had to make some sort of impression. Did it matter? Certainly not, but since when did Oliver care?
Oliver set out the rest of his clothes into colour order, made his bed so that he'd be super cozy at night, and double-checked to make sure that when he lifted his arms up, his shirt didn't lift up so that you could see his tummy, cause he was quite the chubby boy. After all, eating cupcakes all day... it doesn't exactly make you lose weight. Yes, that would be Oliver: the chubby boy who died at the Cornucopia because he couldn't run away on his fat legs. However, he did walk out and sat down for dinner, not saying a word as he silently sipped his glass of... sweet tea.
He really hoped he was doing this right so far.
Hope y'all enjoy this one too. :p ))
Oliver Jack Kirkland, was, by all means, nervous and scared. What, frankly, was the likelihood of one of his family being chosen? Honestly, it was only him and his twin brother, Arthur. Just them to be chosen from. And they were only entered in twice each! But the terrifying thing was, both of them were so, so weak.
Sure, Artie was good with an oven stove and meat and veggies, and good at hunting, and Oliver could throw a knife decently and could bake like a pro, and had quite the extensive knowledge of plants. But, the reality was, if either of them was chosen for this, the other would surely volunteer. Except, Arthur couldn't volunteer for Oliver, because, in the Capitol's dumb technicalities, Oliver was apparently a girl. And as Oliver stood there, waiting for the girl's name to be called, the name rung through his and his brother's ears as if it were a death sentence - and rightfully, in a way, it was. "Olivia Kirkland."
Birth name. How utterly petty.
"No, no, don't, Oliver, l- I VOL-" Oliver, however, soon put a hand over his twin's mouth. "Artie, l..I have to do this. You can't volunteer for me, and you know why. I'll do this, I promise. For you. I... I'll do this, and I'll probably die, but... we had fun. You and I, Kiku, all our friends, we had fun. Okay? And I love you and that's all that matters and golly, I've got to go up there, Artie, I, I - we can talk later, just please, please stay... " he said all this in a whisper, so scared to be heard by the crowd, but doing so anyway as he gave his brother a short hug before running up to the stage and laughing, laughing. Laughing, because this was all he was. Destined to kill or be killed, so he laughed. It was better than crying, surely.
He waited for the other person to be called, silently. The person he'd most likely have to end up killing, but at least it wasn't Arthur. Or was it going to be? Oh, he hoped it wasn't Arthur. Siblings were so important they were to die for, weren't they?
Oliver ceased his laughing for just a moment when the boy's name was called, and already it seemed like tears were coming to his eyes, so he chuckled a bit breathlessly yet again, and just kept laughing. Better known insane than weak, as his father had told him once. He looked over to the man that was now his enemy in a sense, and tried to look right into those eyes, tried to give the other a look that refrained from showing feeling. No hate, but no compassion, that's how this was supposed to work, right?
This was a killing game, and that was the bottom line, no time for making friends. No time for chitchatting, it was all survival. Survive. Be the last one standing, somehow, be proud that in some manner, you survived by spilling the blood of others. Destruction of human life was all this event was, and it truly sickened Oliver to the very core of him.
All Oliver wanted to do was wrap all the contestants up in a soft, warm blanket and send them all home, but that, evidently, would never happen. And he had to deal with the fact that, the odds are, he'll die, so he better make his death somewhat memorable. Maybe he'd make some sort of acquaintance just so they can put pretty olliander flowers around him when he died. But, no. Right now,on camera, as he shook the man's hand with the firmest he could muster, he had to seem strong, he had to seem good Games material, or else he'd be a major target. Hence, that's exactly what he did. Lacked emotion. At least, when he was on camera. God knows he'd bawl his eyes out the minute he got off of it.
God knew he would get right into that last-minute-hugging room and cry his eyes out into Arthur's arms.
And that's just what he did.
He was so, so weak and he hated it. He was going to drop dead, he just knew it. He knew it, he knew it, he knew it. And so glad he was when there was a final last 'cheer’ and they were all ushered off the stage, into rooms. Five minutes per meeting. Great, could Arthur just have like.... twenty meetings? Seemingly, that was not how it worked here.
Arthur did come into the room, though, but it was simply Arthur. His father was who knew where, most likely dead in the forest - but the twins always liked to think his runaway was successful, and their mother... well, their mother... they never really had a mother, to put the pity story away. It was only them, only him and Arthur. And the first thing Arthur did?
Chuckle, that's what he did. "Ha! That was a good joke out there, them saying you were chosen as tribute.. When are they choosing the actual one?" Oliver stared at his brother and smiled. Oh, Artie, trying to use sarcasm as an excuse for everything - especially his feelings. "l mean, obviously, they know you're just so innocent and weak and clearly not eligible for this blasted game - I mean, clearly, they.. obviously.." And that was when the tears started clouding up in Arthur’s eyes and the other instantly started hugging Oliver, and all Oliver could do was hug back warmly as his twin brother, his only close companion since his father ran away, sobbed in his arms. "Five.. five minutes, who do they reckon.... think they are?"
And Oliver, of course, started crying as well, and the rest of the terribly short meeting was a sobbing mess of hugs and words that someone would normally discuss with their twin brother when they knew they were going to never see them again. At least the meeting ended on a somewhat positive note, the telling of memories and jokes from their time together. But then the meeting was over, and Arthur, while giving his younger brother a last
hug, gave Oliver a tiny little button, a tiny little button that was dark green with a gold heart in the middle. So simple and small, yet.. it was the last Oliver would have of Arthur.
As Oliver waved goodbye to his twin brother on the train, he refrained from the crying that the cameras would clearly see, but the look in Artie‘s eyes told him that his brother had some sort of hope he'd survive. A lost hope, yes, but a hope nonetheless. And if that was all Oliver would fight for, then so be it, he'd fight for Arthur. Yes, he will.
Eventually, someone showed him to his room, and his bed was already made and there were even new clothes - but no bowties! Oliver smirked to himself, remembering what Arthur told him about forgetting about problems you can't do anything about.
He couldn't do a thing about this "problem" until they started training, so for now, why couldn't he smile and laugh about the fact that he had tied exactly 23 bowties to his underwear before the Reaping because he knew they'd have no bowties? Because he certainly did laugh about that matter as he set down the green button onto the windowsill. The train was actually rather nice, most likely given to the district by the Capitol itself, the nicest building Oliver had been in other than this train was the town bakery. So, he continued on, removing bowties from his underpants.
After finishing the bowtie jazz, Oliver put them all into one drawer and put on his favorite bright blue one that matched his eyes. He wondered what they were having for dinner as he closed his eyes and smelled the air. Smelled a bit like turkey. He combed through his hair a bit - kill that man he may, but he was cute, nonetheless, and Oliver had to make some sort of impression. Did it matter? Certainly not, but since when did Oliver care?
Oliver set out the rest of his clothes into colour order, made his bed so that he'd be super cozy at night, and double-checked to make sure that when he lifted his arms up, his shirt didn't lift up so that you could see his tummy, cause he was quite the chubby boy. After all, eating cupcakes all day... it doesn't exactly make you lose weight. Yes, that would be Oliver: the chubby boy who died at the Cornucopia because he couldn't run away on his fat legs. However, he did walk out and sat down for dinner, not saying a word as he silently sipped his glass of... sweet tea.
He really hoped he was doing this right so far.
