To Better Odds {D4 Train Thread}

[cameo]

Chaos Aqua

As if the youth of society comprehend the event occurring, the three babies of the Victor Families are throwing fits within their parents’ arms. Graham has the highest pitch of them all within Lightning’s protective cradle, as though he could comprehend the nightmare his Mother’s about to endure. Peering out into the crowd, Tempest’s Redheaded fireball Siren has tears streaming down her chubby cheeks as well. Even Lyra & Lucifer’s toddler is screaming in sorrows, though it may solely be in reaction to Lightning’s Son’s weep. Why is that so? That once one baby begins to bawl, any around them copies such? Yet at an older age we’re able to destroy a life without even feeling an ounce of remorse. Which all of us adults simply stare blankly in confusion now, until reality is finally absorbed.

Anger strikes Lightning first. First he had to deal with walking the Maze with his Sister at his side. Then endured the witness of Kaydence going through it alone, and dying that way. And now his Girl has been chosen as well to journey through the same path, though hopefully excluding Kaydence’s latter result. Steam is nearly visibly seeping from his ears. Tears glaze over his eyes, though droplets refute to collapse down his face. His hold on his Son tightens, as if Sentinels were approaching to rip the infant from his arms. My heart wallows in hatred that this is happening, but I know I have to remain strong. Last time he held it together for me, and now it’s my turn to do the same for him. Fuck you though President Snow, fuck you and you’re twisted fucken ways.

A gentle hand collapses onto his shoulder, his muscles are tight with stress and instinct to protect. “Give him to me, go be with her.” Is offered, before I cautiously take the little one from his heavy obligations. Even though they’ll have time in the Capitol, I know he needs to be with her right now. And with the Rascal in my sheltering grip, I find Tempest to request of her help.

Everything has altered from that single name being called. Surely Graham will be joining us within the Capitol now. And with Lightning and I being Maze-Makers, & Chris being a preparing Runner, Lyra & Lucifer couldn’t possibly juggle mentoring and caring for two babies. There’s no doubt my Redheaded twin is even better then I am with Youngsters, which leaves me begging for her company to the Capitol. But sure enough, no more then a simple explanation is required for her to agree. And like that we’re both venturing towards the train, with a baby in each of our arms.

“Just our luck - once the house is filled with Teenagers that no longer require diaper changes, we have new little ones that need them” I attempt to joke within this dark time, though it doesn’t seem possible for anything to lift our permanently crumbling hearts. Small chatter circles between us as it often does, but it’s mainly silence that cocoons this particular train - until the others join us, and the definition of my name consumes us all.

The crying ignite once more, from the babies obviously - fortunately. Awkward silence consumes the ones actually capable of using words. And to no surprise Lyra & Lucifer try to sneak off with their baby, just as they do every year in assuming Lightning & I will handle the mentoring. “Hold it Lovebirds!” I demand to them, in the leadership tone I’ve possessed since I learned to speak, halting them before they have a chance to escape. “Once we step off this train, Lightning & I are no longer mentors. It’s about damn time you two learned how to help.” Disappointment rattles their features alike, but they listen to me nonetheless and sit amongst us.

“First though…” Five shot glasses are gathered before I begin. “Sorry Elliot & Chris… Chris obviously you can’t, given.” My hand gestures to her stomach with a soft dark-humored laugh. “But Elliot, there’s no drinking until you two return to us alive from the Maze. Even if it’s days before you go in, you will both enter with the healthiest bodies you didn’t even know you could have.” My eyes glance back over to Lyra & Lucifer as I place a shot glass in front of each of them. “Step one is establishing confidence and a healthy diet.” Is taught to them as if a kindergartener’s lecture.

Another glass is placed before Tempest - “You still breastfeeding? Or you joining us?” Is questioned, before I place one in front of Lightning as well, with apologetic eyes for my dire need to lighten the mood. Hard liquor is poured into the glasses that were accepted, filling my own last.

“There’s nothing to be worried about. There’s seven victors allowed from this Maze. Plus if Lyra can get through one pregnant, I know I can.” Chris reassures with a warm smile, and a hand upon Lightning’s legs. “No offense, Lyra.” Though knowing Chris she means full offense in saying if a damsel can get through one pregnant, she sure as hell can - and in the aspect, she’s very much right.

“You’re completely right, Chris. If last year had a bigger victor allowance, then…” But I still can not speak her name, which cuts my sentence short. “To better odds.” Is all I can say in a cheers, before I down my own shot.

[Marree]

Her name becomes her so much everytime that her voice opens and she belts out a tune even those storm sirens would bow down to. The screams envelope Tempests attention with funny faces and coddling arms. She bounces the child up and down several times, but there is simply nothing that will pacify the crying child, not when her two fellow toddlers are helping to fuel the fire and fan the flames. The redheaded woman shakes her head and her lips touch the childs cheek for the tenth time. "I need to put her down for a nap anyways. She's only going to keep going until there is silence. She's just having a tantrum." Tempest tries to soothe the young one but to no avail. Not even the others have luck as Chaos is sudden withchild and help is needed. A gentle smile crosses her face.



"No one is having luck with the children today. Siren's just so overwhelmed. She knows something is going on." The redheaded babe somehow starts to calm once the train has shown even less people then the previous locations. The immediate commotion toned down just a notch even for the the tyke to start to look around although tears still threaten to come down and the lower lip is pukered outward in distaste. "I know, Siren. We're not going home right now. We are going on a little vacation."



The words were meant to sooth the child, but somehow in Tempest's heart she knew she was lying to the child and the thought that one day her child could be thrown into the games put a fowl taste in her mouth.



"You still breastfeeding? Or you joining us?" Shot glasses cling together and as they were passed around, a simple hand gesture executes her answer.



"Still breastfeeding. I'm starting to ween her off, but I don't want to mess with her routine right now, especially since we're away from daddy and not going home. It's also a little less crowded there." The sadness staves from her voice but the solemn expression could only mean that the loss of a sister was daunting going to the place that took her. "I'll get me something though."



She steps to the bar, inspecting the available liquids, smelling them first then satisfied when a non-alcoholic one fits her need. The talk of their sister's death is hushed, avoided, but a new family member could possibly meet the same fate as Kaydence or become one of seven allowed to gain the title that her sister and brother already were.



"Better odds!" Her eyes steal a glance over to Lightning and Chris, sighing gently. "I wish I didn't have to be away from Zane so long." Coos come from Siren as Tempest bounces her. "Are you excited to be a maze maker?"

[Arrow]

Lightning Aqua

    Its a sense of no gravity. A feeling of every inch of your heart shattering, sinking into an unknown abyss. Faces flee from existence and the world which you're standing on enters endless darkness. Sense itself stops as complete confusion controls your actions. One minute you're by your sister's side sun shining on your skin as appalling approval of your position poises itself in the eyes of every person watching you. Then your scrambling through shifting shadows forcing out screeching screams as white walls devour your path. Soon you're standing before her, heart bleeding before it bursts and your arms wrap too tightly around her silencing the tears you each refuse to let fall. Neither of you speak. You simply stand in the void which has surrounded you both, stand with the knowledge that if the other could have spoken the words I volunteer, he would have.

    Outside the world watches us all too willingly. Fingers find themselves woven tightly together as light leaps from flashing cameras and words ring from the lips of those still stunned by what has occurred. A fist replaces an embrace of hands holding out from the pain of the wicked world to find the face of a reporter all too close to the newest Maze Maker and his Runner girlfriend. Blood brims the broken nose of the stupid scum as my eyes turn to another camera surely holding her eye's behind them, the bitch deserves the glare I give before returning to Cris' side. Not a word is said, instead her head finds my shoulder and mine her hair while we walk away from the shocked stares still tracing our tragic trajectory. Their perfect Romeo and Juliet tale. 

    Cold compressed air greets my face as Cris and I enter the shining silver train aimed towards devastation. Aboard the wonderful lie of luxury the devil's liquid already sits settling within five glass cups. I slide silently into a seat by Cris' side still brokenly oblivious to Graham's currently place in all this mere madness. Confidence crawls from Cris' time tested lips as a hand holds my leg and my own rough ripped palm embraces her own. Every second we spend sitting and pieces of the past are spoken I feel the force of welling water growing greater within my eyes, but I don't break. Instead my fingers find the glass glittering with the liquid poured originally for Tempest. Upon her refusal I send the shot swiftly down my throat. Chaos shoots me a subtle glance of worry and Cris' hand tightens slightly but they don't breathe a word. They know I rightfully am granted whatever way I wish to suffer the shattering of my soul. 

    A sudden stop of Chaos' voice springs my second shot gone without hesitation as a brief image of Kaydence crumbles in my mind. Tempest's words bring sudden chills creeping down my spine. Excited? My gaze falls to Cris' crystal eyes and my stomach shreds itself into specks. That's how it must look to every person watching what Snow has spun from manipulation. Its the worst assumption a person could make, but then again I probably would have made the same one. Instead of speaking towards it though I look to Cris and Elliot. 

    "There's so many things I wish I could tell you both. But what I can say is I believe both of you can survive." I pause pouring another shot and raising it finally like the rest. "As Chaos said, to better odds." I then again embrace the burn of broken bliss chemically created.

[tom]

Elliot Alescio

A friend from the days when they were just innocent kids who didn't understand what the world held in store for them. They used to play games of pure imagination that came their head. Children running around believing they were pirates or knights or kings and queens, foolish ones with no reality to grasp onto. That was until his mother passed away. Father dragged him screaming and kicking from their home with tears in his eyes with a lack of understand of what happened. Why had Ma stopped moving? Why was he not able to see Cris? None of that mattered, even when they had became rivals later on. They knew one another, but she had always been a step ahead, just like the games they used to play. Cris used to know everything to make things interesting, better, and way more fun than he could. Endlessly following her with a childish grin, until it vanished to a life of training and a horrible life with a father who hated him.

The crying is what sets him over the edge of his mind. Reality blending into his space with a mixture of wailing and the pounding of his head telling him that he needed a drink or a smoke sooner or later. Eyes glancing from mentor to mentor, or that's what he believed them to be. Lyra and Lucifer with their crying baby, Chaos talking with her sister and the sister's baby, and Lightning with Cris' kid, they all were different than him. They seemed normal, happy, and loving, unlike the people he's known his entire life, except for Cris, who found an escape. Even if it wasn't for long, she had found happiness in Lightning Aqua. A sigh escapes from his throat as he glances back to the window that was all too entertaining for him to look out into.

“First though…” Here it comes, when they ruin the only thing he had left. “Sorry Elliot & Chris… Chris obviously you can’t, given.” A soft laugh that comes from Chaos Aqua as she gestures to Cris' stomach. The pit in his stomach rises, but he shrugs it off. Pregnant or not, she could still handle herself. He wasn't supposed to care anyways. After all, he was just some drug dealer and career. “But Elliot, there’s no drinking until you two return to us alive from the Maze. Even if it’s days before you go in, you will both enter with the healthiest bodies you didn’t even know you could have.” Chaos was not his favorite person. She deserved the glare that comes from his eyes instantly with a cold feeling. “Step one is establishing confidence and a healthy diet.”

"More like being a stick in the mud." He huffs from under his breath as Cris talks of surviving the maze while pregnant. Optimism for a girl who had everything and wanted to come back to it. Better odds or not, they were still in a place where anything can happen to anyone. Instead of speaking up about it, he holds his tongue as he crosses his arms mindlessly with a glare upon his face. Cris hasn't even talked to him yet. Almost like she didn't want to face a piece of her past again, he sure as hell didn't blame her. A nightmare is all he's ever been.

All it took was a realization in the form of words to understand it all.

"Are you excited to be a maze maker?" The words falling from the redhead's lips like they haven't been the biggest revelation in the world. A casual moment that has me on the edge of his seat for a moment. Cris was fine. She would be fine because they were in charge as Mazemakers. A sigh comes from his lips as he wants to speak, but he'd better hold his tongue in front of the mazemakers before they decide that he belongs in a grave six feet under. Tombstone written in the life of Cris who would be living a perfect life that he never had the ability to get. How things have switched around in just a few years.

"There's so many things I wish I could tell you both. But what I can say is I believe both of you can survive." Survive. Win. He's trained for this since his mother passed.
Father forcing him into a life of training to kill others. A moment of silence hits his ears before the wailing rings in his ears again. "As Chaos said, to better odds." A chuckle leaves his throat as he leans back with his arms crossed and eyes striking forward. Better odds mean nothing more than more lives will be saved, but they wouldn't be safe in there. Instead of the kindness that they give him, all they do is prove his own mind as he speaks with a cold tongue.

"If only better odds meant survival. Sure, there's a better chance that we make it out alive than the last maze, but there's still other runners out there." Danger was around every corner no matter if they were Mazemakers or not, anything was possible. Even his own death could happen, though he could handle himself, but Cris was pregnant. Could she handle herself? Probably, but who knew. Who even knew if they were going to make it out of the bloodbath. All he could do was watch them all and their crying babies like a happy go lucky family. "Some of which are deadly, even though you are Mazemakers, better odds mean nothing."

Instead of listening to Chaos, he reaches for a shot glass, pours some alcohol into it quickly, and knocks it back like nothing, no burn at all. A cocky smile and a sarcastic comment come forth from his lips.

"To the Mazemakers. May you watch us suffer and not care."

Dropping the shot glass with a crash, he moves farther away to a window with an annoyed look as he looks out the window letting his thought of his life come forth.

Too many regrets, but he could care less as he ignores their eyes.

[cameo]

Chaos Aqua

Being a mother since the age of three, not a single whisper has been capable of slithering past my knowledge for a decade now. An insulting jab strikes from our sole new Company, and instantly my eyes dart towards his direction. What does that even mean, being a stick in the mud? Wouldn’t it be a compliment to be a solid form within a messy tide of filth? Evidently he doesn’t understand the direness of responsibility, as Tempest does. Her petite mini, newly walking, and merely one of age, toddles behind her in her search for a nonalcoholic beverage. Apparently Elliot doesn’t pertain a similar care for his survival, as Tempest does for her daughter. A roll contorts my eyes in dislike for how situations for us Aquas can never come easy.

The herd cheers to my strive for optimism, and like a domino effect I’m pouring myself another. The depths of the influential liquor taunts before me, in a reminder that I can’t drown in it as I did before my own Maze. Others’ are within the palms of my advice and dedication, and I can’t disappoint them - to leave them to the fence of survival or demise. Patients swims through my persistence, as I wait to relish myself in the intoxication of alcohol again.

The little Redhead returns to her Mother’s arms, just as words seep of missing her Father. Least Tempest isn’t in Lightning’s position, forced to endure the witness of her Love through a Maze. But fortunately she doesn’t carry her lacking piece for long, but rather introduces an even worse topic. Immediately my feature reply in distaste for the subject, my head shaking in a no to all to not continue this breaching conversation.

Thankfully Lightning pertains no interest in that matter either, stressing his alike believe that our Runners can make it through this Maze just as we did. Again an identical cheers brews the confidence, and I share the need for another gulp of the burning concoction. Rather then the confidence being mutual amongst us all, however, Elliot’s pessimistic thoughts inject worse then Tempest ever has. Even more so my expression shrivels in disapproval of his words, though I don’t interject him and listen despite.

Not only does Elliot ignore our press for optimism, but he neglects my demand of him not drinking until after the Maze. Before a chance to knock his glass straight from his fingers, as my muscles insist to do, he’s consuming the sinful beverage which left me horrifically weak and hungover within a Maze years ago. My eyebrows crease in growing anger, yet I seek to not respond cruelly as I crave… until he makes a cheers to Lightning & I watching them suffer without a care.

Like a pathetic puppy that comprehends he’s been bad, he retreats to a window in hopes that we’ll shun his presence - as if he’d be so lucky. A new shot glass retrieves to my grip, along with a random bottle of alcohol in the other, both of which slam down on the windowsill beside him. Anger nearly fumes from my ears in violent steam, and my tongue prepares to lash in a match. Both of our district Runners need to be on their game. Both of our district Runners must return to us. Both of our district Runners will prevent us from burying another this year. He’ll either follow my desire, or die because of it.

“Want worse odds then? Take another shot.” I tempt in sarcastic frustration. “You don’t want to be the deadly Runner? Then get drunk every minute you can, make it easy for the others to demolish you.” Despite the hatred spewing within my thoughts, my voice is rather calm - as if making it easier for my words to creep beneath his skin. “You want to suffer and for us to not care? Say that again, and I’ll make sure those deadly Runners find you alone, wounded, and drunk - and we’ll be smiling the whole time they destroy you.” Is promised only if that’s what he craves. Both of our shot glasses are filled to the brim. “Cheers to that.” I taunt before the consumption of my pour.

Too illustrate my debating care, I walk away from his disrespectful manner. “You have one chance to change your perspective. Let us know if you want our help, or if we shouldn’t waste our time on your ungrateful ass. We’re not heartless, unless you want us to be Elliot.” Is explained before I physically direct my full attention back upon the others who actually want it.