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1st Swing [action]
Jul. 8th, 2012 03:30 pm-In a field close to the village-
[There's a mountain of a boy sleeping in one of your fields, Luceti. And he looks peaceful at first...but the closer he comes to consciousness the more it becomes apparent that peace is the last thing he remembers.
His breathing grows heavy, as if the last time he was awake he'd been having troubles with it. His arms and legs twitch and it looks infantile at first - but with the way the movements grow and become tighter and tighter...it looks like he's trying to fight something. Perhaps a simple dream but in that strange state between waking and sleep, Cato remembers powerful teeth crushing his bones and ripping his skin. Chewing him into an unrecognizable shadow of his self. He remembers being eaten alive and suddenly he jolts awake, breath still coming hard and horror makes his eyes shine.
He'd never admit to crying though, so his first automatic move is to scrub at his face - trying to calm down.
When he wakes up the first thing he realizes is that there is no pain. That he can feel everything and not all of if is horrible to endure. His shoulder blades ache but not enough to warrent alarm.
But there are plenty other things to do that. Like his location. Waking up here, Cato thinks he's back in the Arena and there is nothing to prove him otherwise. His instincts kick in, scream at him to find a weapon. Staggering to his bare feet (whole and otherwise untouched) Cato tries for the woods. He pushes down any fear he feels, any kind of anxiety that creeps up his spine; he won't be done in by it. Not this time.
To any passer-by, Cato would look just like any other new arrival. His wings are magnificent though, a bright gold that catches light and makes them shine. To anyone that knew him, recognizing him would be simple, except for the three good-sized scars running down his jaw he looks exactly as he did before he died.]
-Later that day, at Clove's camp by the lake-
[He's dressed now, found out about the stupid wings. They're such a weakness and so bright it's annoying. Those drafts probably would have sounded great to him once upon a time. Now they're only an ominous something on the horizon that he doesn't want to face. He doesn't know what he wants now.
But seeing a familiar face might help. After being told Clove was here he insisted on seeing her. Go figure no one could tell him where she was. So he learned about the camp she had set up and was, for a moment, terribly amused that it looked almost exactly like the one in the Arena. His smirk twisted into a frown a second later and he sat down to wait.
For a boy with no patience, he managed to keep himself occupied with a stick and the earth. Scribbling in the ground wasn't an idle pastime but...what else could he do right then ?]
[There's a mountain of a boy sleeping in one of your fields, Luceti. And he looks peaceful at first...but the closer he comes to consciousness the more it becomes apparent that peace is the last thing he remembers.
His breathing grows heavy, as if the last time he was awake he'd been having troubles with it. His arms and legs twitch and it looks infantile at first - but with the way the movements grow and become tighter and tighter...it looks like he's trying to fight something. Perhaps a simple dream but in that strange state between waking and sleep, Cato remembers powerful teeth crushing his bones and ripping his skin. Chewing him into an unrecognizable shadow of his self. He remembers being eaten alive and suddenly he jolts awake, breath still coming hard and horror makes his eyes shine.
He'd never admit to crying though, so his first automatic move is to scrub at his face - trying to calm down.
When he wakes up the first thing he realizes is that there is no pain. That he can feel everything and not all of if is horrible to endure. His shoulder blades ache but not enough to warrent alarm.
But there are plenty other things to do that. Like his location. Waking up here, Cato thinks he's back in the Arena and there is nothing to prove him otherwise. His instincts kick in, scream at him to find a weapon. Staggering to his bare feet (whole and otherwise untouched) Cato tries for the woods. He pushes down any fear he feels, any kind of anxiety that creeps up his spine; he won't be done in by it. Not this time.
To any passer-by, Cato would look just like any other new arrival. His wings are magnificent though, a bright gold that catches light and makes them shine. To anyone that knew him, recognizing him would be simple, except for the three good-sized scars running down his jaw he looks exactly as he did before he died.]
-Later that day, at Clove's camp by the lake-
[He's dressed now, found out about the stupid wings. They're such a weakness and so bright it's annoying. Those drafts probably would have sounded great to him once upon a time. Now they're only an ominous something on the horizon that he doesn't want to face. He doesn't know what he wants now.
But seeing a familiar face might help. After being told Clove was here he insisted on seeing her. Go figure no one could tell him where she was. So he learned about the camp she had set up and was, for a moment, terribly amused that it looked almost exactly like the one in the Arena. His smirk twisted into a frown a second later and he sat down to wait.
For a boy with no patience, he managed to keep himself occupied with a stick and the earth. Scribbling in the ground wasn't an idle pastime but...what else could he do right then ?]
