Re: Rayne, Rayne, Go Away
The morning starts with a loud caw that could only come from a Murkrow. I shot up from my spot on the stone ground, joining Kirlia at a small lookout hole we had created previously in case of intruders. But instead of seeing another tribute all I can see is a smaller than normal Murkrow, pecking at the Rawst berries in a nearby tree. As the jade green berries hit the ground, the Murkrow picks them up, placing them on a cloth which he then starts to fold up.
“Kirlia!” my partner whispers, his eyes still on the Murkrow.
I frowned, moving away from the peephole and looking at Kirlia skeptically. “Do you want to kidnap that Pokemon or something?” I asked. It is obvious that Murkrow is the partner to one of the other tributes. Who, I couldn’t remember.
Kirlia shook his head, rolling his eyes under his pale green bangs. “Kir, kir,” he replied, jabbing his arm sharply at the vantage point again.
“You want to… kill it…” My voice is quiet, showing my hesitancy to kill.
My only response is a short nod as Kirlia continued to stare out at the Dark type. There is something in his eyes, something that made me scared.
I sighed. “Then… well, try to use a Thunderbolt from the peephole. If it hits, then we can show ourselves,” I said, watching the Emotion Pokemon closely.
Kirlia readied himself, taking a few steps backwards before the yellow light engulfed him. It shot out of Kirlia’s hands, which were aimed at the key hole. The yellow light shot out, slightly enlarging the hole as well as filling the cellar with light.
“Hey! Ow!” A voice cried, sounding almost terrified. I took a deep breath, waiting for another cry or scream. However, I heard voices. Two, to be exact. One a Pokemon’s voice, sounding far more female than anything else. The other a male’s, a voice I recognized way to well.
Ara-Jay is from District Twelve and is one of the only people that stood out as a serious threat to me before the Games begun. He is tall, muscular from working the coal mines and had the look of a miner. Cold, determined and serious. He has dark eyes, the color of a stormy night. His hair is black, shining like a Murkrow’s feather in the dim, speckled sunlight. He is the serious and mature type and very determined. He rarely even smiled. Ara-Jay and I had joined each other at various points before the games, like learning how to make traps from ropes and how to shoot arrows from bows.
He is jumping up and down in pain. He is holding his foot, which is most likely where the Thunderbolt had hit him. After just a few hops he settled down, leaning against one of Oran Trees.
Besides him stood a Mawile, her and her slight figure. Mawile holds her head high, despite the vicious jaws that hung from a small cap on her head. She is holding onto Ara-Jay’s pant leg, glaring at our little peep hole.
Too much of my surprise, Ara-Jay just shook his head, taking a deep breath and stood there, eyes either on the vantage point or a little above, I couldn’t quite tell.
Kirlia pushes me out of the way, staring out at Ara-Jay and his Mawile. He composes himself as well, his hands sparkling with the beginning of a powerful Thunderbolt. I smacked his head gently. “Stop it!” I told him through gritted teeth, as quietly as I could.
Kirlia glares at me but took a step back, waiting for me to explain myself. The sparks surrounding his hands broke off, hitting the floor and the walls and dissolving quickly. I walk carefully and slowly to the back of the old wine cellar. The Emotion Pokemon follows me.
“Let’s wait and see what he does, okay?” I tell him, taking one of our last Oran berries. “Just wait it out. Maybe… if he’s friendly or is willing to help us, we can team up with him, you know?” Truth is, I just don’t want to be the one to kill him. He is nice, despite his serious outlook on life and cold demeanor. He looks after me from the ruder tributes in the game; despite he is only one year older than me. Maybe it is because he is six foot three and I am only five foot eight. Maybe it is because I am smart, but not fight smart.
Kirlia just nods, prancing over to the peep hole again and watching him.
We waited. And we waited some more. It was maybe hours that we waited, taking turns sleeping and watching the District Twelve tributes. Frequently, Mawile would tug on Ara-Jay’s pant leg and point angrily at the log. And just as frequently, Ara-Jay would snap at Mawile for being impatient. You wouldn’t think that someone that big and that scary looking would be able to wait for so long for something that might not even be there.
I didn’t notice my growing hunger until I saw Kirlia eat the last of our berries, one of the few Cheri berries that we had found a while ago. My stomach growls loudly and I immediately wrap my arms around my waist in an attempt to quiet its rumbling. Kirlia grinned, rolling his pink eyes at me. I could almost imagine his words, as I often have. You should have collected more. I sigh. “We’ll get some more as soon as he leaves,” I whisper to him. Kirlia rolled his eyes again, pushing me out of the way and towards the corner. I got his point. I needed sleep.
I nod blankly, gathering up my sweatshirt and laying my head on my makeshift pillow, waiting for dreams to take over for the first time since the Hunger Games had begun.
Sleep came quickly and the dreams shortly after that. But these weren’t the dreams I wanted to have, the dreams of before this torturous game had begun, with me and my family when life was peaceful, for the most part.
Deaths of good friends haunted my unconsious vision. I watch spears pierce their hearts thousands of times before the scenes changed to bloody battlefields where those I once knew lay, dead, as their children walked idly around them, many of which with tear-stained faces. Each dream got worse and I finally realized that they weren’t dreams at all—they were nightmares.
The worst kind of nightmares.
And even though the nightmares are horrible and vile as I watch those I care most about perish, the one that hurt me the most is the death of someone that I both knew everything about yet nothing at all. Kirlia was my partner and we were stuck together, no matter how much we hated each other. Things had worked out for the both of us. We got along fine and I could normally figure out what he was trying to tell me. Yet what was he like before the Games had begun? Was he a part of a family, with siblings and parents? Had he been educated in battle by a breeder or a trainer, or maybe even one of the Elite Four? No matter how much I still had to learn about him or had learned from the week or so we had been here, watching him was the worst of all.
The first time he is lying on a bed of leaves and old pieces of clothing; his eyes squinted and sweat rolling down his white face. He looks like he has been poisoned and is slowly dying from it. I felt my hands take over for me, dabbing the beads of sweat on Kirlia’s forehead with a wet cloth. Someone in the corner hands me a plastic cup full of water and I place it to Kirlia’s parted lips. My new companion says something to me which I respond quickly to. I couldn’t make out the words or the person who is helping us, but I am grateful for their support.
The scene slowly changes to one more gruesome, one that makes bile rise in my throat. It is quite simple and much more effective than the poison. White hot flames spread around Kirlia like a wild fire, engulfing the Emotion Pokemon in a death that not even all of his physic powers could save him from. I watch as his skin burns, leaving nothing but a hollow-boned skeleton.
I wasn’t sure if I had screamed out loud or if it was just in my hellish nightmare. Either way I wake up to the dark cellar, walls towering over me eerily, shaking violently. “Kirlia?” I ask softly, my eyes unable to see my partner Pokemon as they readjust to the faint light of the fire.
“Kirlia?” He is right next to me, making me jump at his voice. I don’t want to worry him, so I reply with a seemingly innocent question.
“Is Ara-Jay still out there?” I ask softly, keeping my voice a mere whisper. Kirlia nods. I sigh.
“Do you think we should… approach him…? Talk to him…?” I ask again, trying to meet his eyes. He was acting a bit strange, not looking at me. Instead of answering, he takes my hand in his hand-like grasp and pulls me to our vantage point. I peer outside, seeing the same old scene that I have been looking at for the last day. Nothing has changed.
“What?” I ask Kirlia again, pulling back from the small hole. “Nothing has changed.”
Kirlia rolls his eyes at me, pointing at our peep hole again, but with more ferocity. I looked out again, surveying the land. Ara-Jay was standing up now, his cold eyes not on the log that hid our cellar, but on something else.
It is long and not very tall, maybe five inches at best. It is wrapped in silver paper that throws the lights of the sun at me. I blink and try to figure out what it is.
From the people back home that thought either me or Ara-Jay will win this game.
They are called our sponsors, the people who truly believe we have a chance of surviving this cruel game. They have the ability, if they have the money, to buy anything that we tributes need and send it to us via silver packages.
Ara-Jay is staring at it and I knew what he was thinking. Is it for him or for us? I guess we are about to find out.
“Kirlia, use Psychic to lift the log. It’s finally time to talk to Ara-Jay and Mawile,” I tell him, brushing my light brown hair out of my face. My hair felt greasy under my fingers, reminding me to bathe as soon as the chance brings itself to me.
Kirlia nods, holding up his two white arms. The dim purple light surrounds the log again, dislodging leaves and small rocks as Kirlia lifts it into the air, allowing me to climb out quickly.
I refuse to look at Ara-Jay or Mawile, even though I could feel both of their eyes on me. Looking closer at the pair, it was easy to see that they were… there isn’t a great way to put this. Plump? Not all skin and bones like Myddie was, but with a thin layer of fat that could only be obtained by eating correctly. I narrowed my eyes jealously.
Kirlia hops out from the hole in the cellar ceiling and stares at the teen and Pokemon from District Twelve. He looks like he is about to speak, when Mawile opens her mouth and starts screaming at Kirlia and I.
“Mawile! Maw! Ile!” she barks, tossing her arms in a very violent manner as her extra pair of jaws bounces up and down on her head. It looks like she is talking to me.
“Quiet!” Ara-Jay barks back, glaring at his own partner. Mawile shuts up quickly, turning to face away from me and Kirlia as well as Ara-Jay. Of course, her extra jaws and the cream-yellow spot on them are staring right at me.
I take a deep breath, opening my mouth to ask him about the silver package, but he beats me to it.
“I guess we should open it, see who’s it for,” he says calmly, walking over to the package, which is only a few feet from me. I stiffen, as well as Kirlia. But he makes no move to attack me or Kirlia, and Mawile just watches from the sidelines. Ara-Jay kneels down on the wet grass, unwrapping the silver wrapping gently, careful not to damage what valuable goods might be inside of it.
I watched as he lifted the top off the long box, revealing a beautiful and delicious, five-course meal. A mouth-watering dish of turkey, dipped in some strange sauce. Deviled eggs with red spices and next to it were four ripe golden apples. There is even an unopened packet of fancy crackers, complete with a cheese that had the same rich smell of mozzarella.
“Any idea who this is for?” Ara-Jay asks me, standing up. He left the meal on the ground. Mawile finally joins our little group, leaning in to smell the delectable scents. Kirlia slid in front of me at Mawile’s approach, trying to guard me from the steel-type and her nasty jaws.
I ignored both of the Pokemon and Ara-Jay as I knelled down besides the tray of food, looking for any sort of indicator that could tell me who it is for. Turkey, eggs, apples and mozzarella. I’m not sure if I grinned or frowned when the four apples caught my attention. I stood back up, straightening so I could look Ara-Jay in the eyes. “It’s for all of us.”
Ara-Jay’s bored expression didn’t change that much, just the curving of his lips upwards in a smile. Mawile made a sound of outrage, lunging for me. Kirlia stopped her with a Psychic, glaring at the female Mawile. Ara-Jay shot a hostile glance at the black and gold Pokemon.
“What makes you say that, Rayne?” he asked. I blinked, surprised that he remembered by name.
“Ah… it’s pretty simple, if you ask me. Four apples is the dead-giveaway,” I replied, knocking Kirlia on the head. He let out an annoyed cry and cutoff his Psychic attack on the pure Steel Pokemon. “But the first hint is the order of the food. Turkey, eggs, apples and mozzarella cheese. T, E, A, and M. Team. Whoever sent this wants us four to work as a team.”
I stopped my rambling, looking up to meet Ara-Jay in the eyes. His cold, haunting eyes. “But I’m guessing that might be why you’re here.” And why you remembered my name, I added.
“Yes, that’s correct. Out of all the tributes this time around, you seemed to be the best for a partner. Besides, I already know we get along,” the District Twelve tribute responded, smiling shrewdly. “So what do you say?”
Mawile made her point by punching Ara-Jay on the leg. She didn’t even look at me or Kirlia. I, however, did turn to Kirlia. The green and white Pokemon just shrugged as if he honestly didn’t care. I could almost hear his response to this. ‘You seem to trust him, so I’ll give it a shot as well.’ I smiled warmly at my Pokemon Partner, nodding to him before turning to tell Ara-Jay our decision.
Paired with my love, the incredibly awesome and amazingly fantastic Shock <3
Black and White Teams
Black FC: Alexa, 5243 2120 8993
Last edited by TsukiKaiki64; 11-25-2009 at 03:39 AM.