☠Milo Periander☠
AUTOMATIC 13
his name is milo,
he has red hair,
he drinks til he dies-o,
and he has red hair.
he liked a man named ren,
bc he was hot,
hotter than most men,
milo has red hair.
the story of the rock caves,
was probs emo and sad,
milo has red hair,
he has very very red hair.
#crieverytim
☠Orville Stud☠
There is no sky.
When the crescendo crows and the soon-to-expand pinpoint of shimmering blue enter the elbow of a cave which the three of them have stopped in for the night, Orville turns as far away as he can from the information he has been so anxious to learn. Whoever the lowest District-numbered one to die was, they must've had a big head because even the far side of the cave is bathed in a haunting glow. It does not illuminate any projectors or cameras, not even ones smaller than the spiders which sometimes skitter along the walls. How are they doing that, he wonders? He's still not ready to admit that any technology the Gamemakers use these days are going to be so far off from what he can even pretend to comprehend.
"Vayu's gone," Corradhin says, sounding unsure of himself despite the evidence which lingers not even a foot before his face.
Orville whips around adroit, agitating the knot which Corr, himself, had battered into it. When he speaks, the back of his throat still scathes with the rawness of unexpected water to the lungs. "Wow," he almost croaks. It makes sense, though. He did have a big head. And they only get bigger. Sterling then Sailee; whoever has taken theirs have quite the mantle now. Back at the Capitol there will be papers flying off the presses that would look nice framed. Whoever it is, though, if she's Valeria like Orville thinks she is, she'll be watching these faces materialize for the first time and disappear for the second (maybe third) and as every other tribute whoops and hollers for their increased odds, she'll be thinking of how her pack's numbers have dwindled and of how rash she was to make it so.
Most off all, she'll wonder how in Panem the next face isn't his. How he's survived another trial by fire.
Corr almost slaps him on the shoulder as he tries to ground himself. They share a look. "Thats two of them left, right?" he asks. Orville goes cross-eyed thinking back and doing the mental math, but he nods in the end. "And we've got one," he starts counting off their own alliance on his fingers, "two..." he points his middle finger at Orville and then leads him in turning back towards Bellona. She does not falter in her ignorance of them. "Majority," Corr decides. "We're more of a Career pack than they are. That's if they even stuck together, the two of them. Nero might have gotten away."
"That was easy." It's almost a belch of a comment, as the two of them lounge (no matter how uncomfortably) in front of the flickering television, guts hanging out of their cuts and scratches.
Corr smushes a handful of dried fruit against his mouth and chews twice. "We still have our blades to whet."
"And Valeria, her pants."
"What?"
"Can I use an arrow though?" Orville adds. Corradhin repeats his question, creases of exasperation folding into his face. "Rather than a blade," says Orville. "I like fighting with arrows. They're more..." Stylish, unexpected, and memorable are the words he's always used, but he's not trying to take mind of little white parachutes that carry vitamin pastes anymore, and for a second, he wonders if Corr is right. No. "What I'm used to."
