Although I used to check frequently, unfortunately, Drake, I have been very busy recently with personal statements and extracurricular reading since I have been encouraged to apply for Oxford/Cambridge University which I have to prepare for this autumn and I don't know how much you know about this but - along with working in my other job - it is all quite time consuming.
I also don't like posting after only 2 replies. I know the pace has slowed but I guess that's the way the cookie crumbles.
So although, yes, I am committed to RPing, I can't abandon real life entirely.
I would just like to point out that I waited for 3 days for you to respond to my question, whereas I have responded within two days on both occasions.
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"Penelope?"
She swore she heard someone say her name. Maybe she was hallucinating, meaning that this illness had to be something serious. She checked her symptoms against her memorized disease factfiles - which consisted of two; a cough and chickenpox, something she'd caught back in third grade. Neither, however, seemed to have quite as severe side effects as the ones she was currently experiencing. And you couldn't catch chickenpox twice, so that eliminated that one.
It was then that she noticed the kid from the field trip - Jesse - wondering up to her. To be honest, he didn't look too great either. Without asking, he took the seat besides her and commenced on a conversation in a sinfully cheery tone (nobody could be that happy, whilst she was feeling as bad as she were).
"Penelope - skipping class?"
Pen swallowed back the insult dancing on the tip of the tongue.
"Again, I would ask you to not call me that," she said through a forced smile and gritted teeth, but when she sensed a hint of genuine concern in his voice, she felt the smile fade into a natural one "And I could ask you the same question. I'd thought you would have a limo, or something, to get you to school on time."
She swore she heard someone say her name. Maybe she was hallucinating, meaning that this illness had to be something serious. She checked her symptoms against her memorized disease factfiles - which consisted of two; a cough and chickenpox, something she'd caught back in third grade. Neither, however, seemed to have quite as severe side effects as the ones she was currently experiencing. And you couldn't catch chickenpox twice, so that eliminated that one.
It was then that she noticed the kid from the field trip - Jesse - wondering up to her. To be honest, he didn't look too great either. Without asking, he took the seat besides her and commenced on a conversation in a sinfully cheery tone (nobody could be that happy, whilst she was feeling as bad as she were).
"Penelope - skipping class?"
Pen swallowed back the insult dancing on the tip of the tongue.
"Again, I would ask you to not call me that," she said through a forced smile and gritted teeth, but when she sensed a hint of genuine concern in his voice, she felt the smile fade into a natural one "And I could ask you the same question. I'd thought you would have a limo, or something, to get you to school on time."
Shard said
I am sorry for a rather extreme inactivity lately. However, my latest post (while rather worthless) will be my last, I'm afraid. I see how the RP hasn't been moving at a very rapid pace lately...I hope it picks up for everyone. It has been wonderful RPing with all of you ^^. Good luck with this RP!
You've been great ^_^ Thanks!
"But I'm going to be completely honest with you here. I really don't want to get involved with anything too eventful. I've had enough excitement for a while I think I'm going to go back to teenager slash closet mutant once we're done here."
Dr Douglas just smiled, tiredly.
"No complaints here. In fact, I was rather hoping that would be the case. You see, none of you can tell anyone about me. I'd lose my job, my political respect..." her eyes shone with the seriousness of the matter, as she contemplated a scenario where people knew. Her career - which had become her life - would lie in tatters. She took another sip of her coffee as if she could swallow the thought with it. It burned her throat, but she drank anyway.
"When Alexis - or Silver Ryu, or whatever - wakes up, we'll get cracking on this search. In the meantime, I'll get set up."
Dr Douglas drained the entire mug and blinked the final remnants of sleep from her eyes. She walked over to a white set of drawers and retrieved her laptop from the top most drawer. Admittedly, she was sure it didn't look a great deal to the others, but with her internal modifications, it could hack virtually any secret database in the country - or the world, for that matter. She set it on the table and tugged the lid up, switching it on. It whirred to life.
She grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl in front of her and took a bite, suddenly hungry. Her appetite was often like that; she'd get sudden, random urges to eat but she never really had proper meals. Whenever she did, she always got the nagging feeling in the back of her head that she could be doing something so much more productive. Maybe it was a form of OCD.
She typed in her password with lightning fast fingers and waited for it to load, flexing her hands.
Dr Douglas just smiled, tiredly.
"No complaints here. In fact, I was rather hoping that would be the case. You see, none of you can tell anyone about me. I'd lose my job, my political respect..." her eyes shone with the seriousness of the matter, as she contemplated a scenario where people knew. Her career - which had become her life - would lie in tatters. She took another sip of her coffee as if she could swallow the thought with it. It burned her throat, but she drank anyway.
"When Alexis - or Silver Ryu, or whatever - wakes up, we'll get cracking on this search. In the meantime, I'll get set up."
Dr Douglas drained the entire mug and blinked the final remnants of sleep from her eyes. She walked over to a white set of drawers and retrieved her laptop from the top most drawer. Admittedly, she was sure it didn't look a great deal to the others, but with her internal modifications, it could hack virtually any secret database in the country - or the world, for that matter. She set it on the table and tugged the lid up, switching it on. It whirred to life.
She grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl in front of her and took a bite, suddenly hungry. Her appetite was often like that; she'd get sudden, random urges to eat but she never really had proper meals. Whenever she did, she always got the nagging feeling in the back of her head that she could be doing something so much more productive. Maybe it was a form of OCD.
She typed in her password with lightning fast fingers and waited for it to load, flexing her hands.
Sorry! I kinda got caught up in the holidays....will post...
Dr Douglas never slept for more than a few hours. It went against her basic human instinct which told her that she had to be working or she wasn't productive. A little while later - it was impossible to tell when - Dr Douglas found herself coming to, sprawled across her favourite leather armchair. She blinked several times and scanned her room, to find a man that she didn't know lain asleep across one of her dark leather coaches. Her eyes widened for a split seconds, as she tried to recall the events prior to her nap and sighed in relief when it all came flooding back. And then, she tensed again, when she realised the memory of her evening was not a good thing.
Someone had tried to kill her.
What a surreal thought. Sure, students at her lectures sometimes verbalized their boredom or complained at her marking, but they didn't ever attempt to physically harm her. For the first time, she'd actually feared for her life and it had ripped away the cocoon of safety she hadn't realised was surrounding her. She struggled to her feet and caught sight of her reflection in the blank TV screen; her hair was stuck up on one side and large bags hung beneath her eyes. She grimaced.
She retrieved a hairbrush from a drawer and dragged it through her brunette locks, until it once again resembled that of a normal person rather than a dazed sewer rat. She kept her eyes locked warily on the sleeping man - a mutant, like her, she remembered - as she edged out the room. What a bizarre thought. She headed towards her kitchen and found two girls inside - one digging in heartily, one hanging back tentatively. Though she could remember them both, she still couldn't picture have them in her stylish home and yet, here they were.
"Go on - before your friend scoffs everything," Dr Douglas mumbled to the girl in the cheerleader outfit, shrugging. She noticed that she was still wearing her (now rumpled) jacket and shrugged out of it, hanging it up by the refrigerator as she switched on her coffee maker and poured herself a black coffee. She took a seat at the small glass table in the corner of the room. She wasn't used to see people potter around her house - she didn't entertain visitors very often. Not only did she feel like she had a killer hangover - so that was the side effect of mutant power overuse - but she still felt half asleep. But once awake, she could never return to sleep.
"You guys not got to be anywhere? No worried parents? Friends?" she asked them both, with a raised eyebrow, taking a sip of the hot liquid.
Someone had tried to kill her.
What a surreal thought. Sure, students at her lectures sometimes verbalized their boredom or complained at her marking, but they didn't ever attempt to physically harm her. For the first time, she'd actually feared for her life and it had ripped away the cocoon of safety she hadn't realised was surrounding her. She struggled to her feet and caught sight of her reflection in the blank TV screen; her hair was stuck up on one side and large bags hung beneath her eyes. She grimaced.
She retrieved a hairbrush from a drawer and dragged it through her brunette locks, until it once again resembled that of a normal person rather than a dazed sewer rat. She kept her eyes locked warily on the sleeping man - a mutant, like her, she remembered - as she edged out the room. What a bizarre thought. She headed towards her kitchen and found two girls inside - one digging in heartily, one hanging back tentatively. Though she could remember them both, she still couldn't picture have them in her stylish home and yet, here they were.
"Go on - before your friend scoffs everything," Dr Douglas mumbled to the girl in the cheerleader outfit, shrugging. She noticed that she was still wearing her (now rumpled) jacket and shrugged out of it, hanging it up by the refrigerator as she switched on her coffee maker and poured herself a black coffee. She took a seat at the small glass table in the corner of the room. She wasn't used to see people potter around her house - she didn't entertain visitors very often. Not only did she feel like she had a killer hangover - so that was the side effect of mutant power overuse - but she still felt half asleep. But once awake, she could never return to sleep.
"You guys not got to be anywhere? No worried parents? Friends?" she asked them both, with a raised eyebrow, taking a sip of the hot liquid.
I'll tell you what we need more off, in the IC....
...
...
Know what this is?
A POST!
Let's keep them coming in the IC, people.
(I'm impatient; don't hate me xD)
Iris had been in this position before.
She knew the drill. The swift goodbyes that never really gave anyone an opportunity to say goodbye, the tears streaking her parents' cheek and the stoic, unrelenting Capitol guards that ushered her on the train and away from the District she knew as home. It made no difference whether it was Victor Village nor the small ranch she'd grown up on; anywhere was better than the Capitol, full of luxuries that none of them could enjoy. But still she kept her face set in a emotionless mask. The cheer from District 5 had been surprisingly loud - perhaps they were glad to be rid of Uri's, the golden boy, murderer - and she'd been joined by thirty nine year old Yanin Scar, a man who know couldn't walk without the aid of a cane. She felt a flicker of pity for him; though strong in his youth, he'd barely last five minutes in Cornucopia's bloodbath. She wondered whether to pull the same trick again - though she doubted he would ask - and give him a swift exit from this cruel world. She wasn't scared of being painted as a villain. It had already happened once.
She hadn't cried, not even as her mother had handed her, with trembling fingers, the token she'd taken into the arena last time - her favourite silver hairpin. And not even when her gruff father had leant down to hug her. And not even when her siblings had complained about the unfairness of it all, trying to volunteer themselves, despite not being eligible.
But she could see the slight ease in their eyes. They knew she was a fighter - they knew she had a chance.
On board the train, she'd nodded along to one of the elderly tribute's advice, despite having heard it all the first time she'd been reaped. She found herself snapping at Yanin after he tried to get her to talk game tactics, yelling at him that they weren't even in the Capitol yet. And then she'd retired to her cabin and just sat, staring vacantly into space. She knew that it would be much harder this time and her chances of winning had decreased drastically from last time.
She knew that she'd probably just seen her family for the last time.
As the train slid into the Capitol - it's innovative architecture cutting through the clear, blue sky and gleaming in the sunshine - she snapped the blinds shut violently. They may look silver and pure, but the underneath was stained with blood.
The only thing that filled Arturo's thoughts was his father.
After having a son nearly die before his eyes, Arturo's father had been ill for months after Arturo's first Games ended and he had to nurse him back to health in Victor village - where the two had lived in relative contentment (as much as one can, after being forced into killing). Both worked as engineers and though they chatted frequently over dinner, they never went near the topic of the Hunger Games. It was the black stain on their past. And, now, it was oozing over onto their future.
"Four years ago..." Arturo's father kept ranting "We've had less than four years' worth of comfort and now my boy has to go through it all again...it's pure evil, that's what it is..."
Of course, the Capitol guards had soon shut him up.
The bruised, old man had hardly anytime to press the small token - a cog, from Arturo's first engine that he had built with his father - into Arturo's shaking, white palm before Arturo was ushered onto the sleek, white train of the Capitol and torn from his father forever. For even if the impossible happened and Arturo survived again, he wasn't sure his father could. And this time, he was against more experienced competitors who knew all his tricks and were ready, probably planning how to counter them as he was thinking.
He was sat on the plush, cushioned seats of the rear cabin, watching the power stations of his District whizz past him at hyper speed, thinking. He never stopped thinking and rarely spoke these thoughts. The female tribute - a pretty, 29 year old blonde named Mareena - entered and took the seat opposite him. She didn't speak either. He'd seen her passionately kissing a handsome, dark-haired man back at the station, both of their eyes wet with tears and he wondered the Capitol could do this to it's people.
Well, the answer was in the name. They were the Capitol.
The train slowed as it entered the impressive city itself, the buildings dazzling and the people even more so, in weird and wacky fashion, all attempting to outdo one another. In the station, Arturo even caught sight of a couple of them in the Arena bodysuits, laughing gleefully. He felt sick.
Home sweet home, he thought bitterly.
She knew the drill. The swift goodbyes that never really gave anyone an opportunity to say goodbye, the tears streaking her parents' cheek and the stoic, unrelenting Capitol guards that ushered her on the train and away from the District she knew as home. It made no difference whether it was Victor Village nor the small ranch she'd grown up on; anywhere was better than the Capitol, full of luxuries that none of them could enjoy. But still she kept her face set in a emotionless mask. The cheer from District 5 had been surprisingly loud - perhaps they were glad to be rid of Uri's, the golden boy, murderer - and she'd been joined by thirty nine year old Yanin Scar, a man who know couldn't walk without the aid of a cane. She felt a flicker of pity for him; though strong in his youth, he'd barely last five minutes in Cornucopia's bloodbath. She wondered whether to pull the same trick again - though she doubted he would ask - and give him a swift exit from this cruel world. She wasn't scared of being painted as a villain. It had already happened once.
She hadn't cried, not even as her mother had handed her, with trembling fingers, the token she'd taken into the arena last time - her favourite silver hairpin. And not even when her gruff father had leant down to hug her. And not even when her siblings had complained about the unfairness of it all, trying to volunteer themselves, despite not being eligible.
But she could see the slight ease in their eyes. They knew she was a fighter - they knew she had a chance.
On board the train, she'd nodded along to one of the elderly tribute's advice, despite having heard it all the first time she'd been reaped. She found herself snapping at Yanin after he tried to get her to talk game tactics, yelling at him that they weren't even in the Capitol yet. And then she'd retired to her cabin and just sat, staring vacantly into space. She knew that it would be much harder this time and her chances of winning had decreased drastically from last time.
She knew that she'd probably just seen her family for the last time.
As the train slid into the Capitol - it's innovative architecture cutting through the clear, blue sky and gleaming in the sunshine - she snapped the blinds shut violently. They may look silver and pure, but the underneath was stained with blood.
The only thing that filled Arturo's thoughts was his father.
After having a son nearly die before his eyes, Arturo's father had been ill for months after Arturo's first Games ended and he had to nurse him back to health in Victor village - where the two had lived in relative contentment (as much as one can, after being forced into killing). Both worked as engineers and though they chatted frequently over dinner, they never went near the topic of the Hunger Games. It was the black stain on their past. And, now, it was oozing over onto their future.
"Four years ago..." Arturo's father kept ranting "We've had less than four years' worth of comfort and now my boy has to go through it all again...it's pure evil, that's what it is..."
Of course, the Capitol guards had soon shut him up.
The bruised, old man had hardly anytime to press the small token - a cog, from Arturo's first engine that he had built with his father - into Arturo's shaking, white palm before Arturo was ushered onto the sleek, white train of the Capitol and torn from his father forever. For even if the impossible happened and Arturo survived again, he wasn't sure his father could. And this time, he was against more experienced competitors who knew all his tricks and were ready, probably planning how to counter them as he was thinking.
He was sat on the plush, cushioned seats of the rear cabin, watching the power stations of his District whizz past him at hyper speed, thinking. He never stopped thinking and rarely spoke these thoughts. The female tribute - a pretty, 29 year old blonde named Mareena - entered and took the seat opposite him. She didn't speak either. He'd seen her passionately kissing a handsome, dark-haired man back at the station, both of their eyes wet with tears and he wondered the Capitol could do this to it's people.
Well, the answer was in the name. They were the Capitol.
The train slowed as it entered the impressive city itself, the buildings dazzling and the people even more so, in weird and wacky fashion, all attempting to outdo one another. In the station, Arturo even caught sight of a couple of them in the Arena bodysuits, laughing gleefully. He felt sick.
Home sweet home, he thought bitterly.
Good idea xD
I'll get an IC post up sooooon.....
I'll get an IC post up sooooon.....
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