talon-andrews - Tumblr blog

[talon-andrews]

Tasha Playlist - I cant just imagine her singing this to him.

If I were a weapon You said I’d be a gun Lethal at close range I guess With silencer and stun

But I feel more like a needle Always pulling on the thread Always making the same point again And wondering if you heard what I just said

[talon-andrews]

"I know I didn't deserve it," Talon stared resentfully at Sasha, who had conveniently hidden her face, and therefore her eyes, from direct view. "Why would I think that I did? She's the one who-" Talon groaned in sudden unbearable frustration. He didn't need sympathy form Sasha or anyone else. What he needed was control. If he could put someone else through the same amount of pain he'd suffered all those years ago, it would be a nice start. But the real goal was a Victory. Only that could prove his real strength and the rights he truly deserved. He placed a hand firmly on Sasha's neck. "Look at me," he demanded. "I don't want your pity. I didn't even want you to know about about this at all. I'm leaving," he announced, making the decision just as he said it. "So try to forget it, just, I don't know." Talon shook his head and let her go. "Rest your ankle or whatever."

Which to Bury: Us or the Hatchet || Tasha

[talon-andrews]

"You think this is bullying?" Of all the points Talon could have objected to, he foolishly chose this one. Proving her wrong was something he felt the need to do but the only real evidence he had was a history he didn't want to admit was real. At the same time, he almost wanted to laugh, just knowing that Sasha had to be just as innocent, sheltered and weak as Feather Glass was now. He tried to imagine what that was like: being protected, encouraged, loved. He scoffed at the thought and shook his head. A life like that certainly wouldn't provide any life experience or advantages for their time in the arena. Turning his attention back to Sasha, Talon adopted a venomous, condescending tone. "I know, children can be so cruel: calling you names, pulling your hair, pushing you down." He laughed darkly and winked at her. Yes, he knew it was twisted, but he was just getting started. "But it's worse in real life, okay? You don't even have to be different, Sasha. You can be the strongest and most dedicated in your class: they don't care. I'm willing to bet no one's ever beat you or locked you in a dark room, starving for a week just because you're not Farr-" Talon came to a sudden stop but it was too late to catch himself. "You're so much better than that," he finished in a rushed whisper. "It doesn't matter, things only get worse until you decide they're not scary any more. Now, shut up, okay?" He growled furiously, like this was all Sasha's fault- honestly, most of it was. Panting, he clenched a fist, trying to relax but actually building tension and doing the complete opposite. "Maybe I will leave," he announced somewhat numbly.

watch them work as i like their faaacee watch it burn while i cry cause they told me arson's a crime. || Tasha

[talon-andrews]

OOC:

i've been informed that the MM means "(M)akeout sesh with Sash(M)a". This shall not be questioned or investigated any further. good day.

also, it's shrugging now. another sign!

[talon-andrews]

[talon-andrews]

Wanna bet? Some desperate, animalistic part of Talon wanted to snap, slam Sasha's head against the nearest wall and snap her neck right then and there. Oddly enough, it was her words that had only a moment ago infuriated him, that also made him stop and think before acting on that impulse. He'd never thought that strength could be measured in ways other than capability, perseverance, and actual displays of physical effort. The concept of what it would mean to be stronger emotionally was something he just couldn't process. Emotions were for the weak. The fact that Talon suppressed and denied the majority of his should have made him superior. What good could it do to let the pain be seen? To let what he'd felt and experienced be expressed through words rather than violent acts? To cry? Talon shook his head slowly in stubborn disbelief. "I'm not afraid of anything," he countered defiantly. To be honest, there were two things that deserved to be feared: death and the possibility of failure. Both were constantly on his mind but he'd be damned if Sasha knew about that. He redirected to her earlier point and feigned hurt feelings. "You invited me in here, Sasha, and you're already asking me to leave?" Talon shook his head and leered at her.

Song: And I'll set fiiiirre to the house. || Tasha

[talon-andrews]

Did people actually do that? Lean on another person's shoulder and cry? If Talon ever allowed himself to cry, there certainly wouldn't be any witnesses, no one around who was close enough to touch. Even after Sasha explained the true meaning, he still wanted to angrily dismiss the entire concept. "I don't cry," he snapped with a little too much emphasis. "Boys don't cry. Careers don't cry." Shit. He hadn't meant to say that part out loud, but, nonetheless it was true. "Cry if you want to, though, Sasha," he added, making an extra effort to be mean in order to make up for that momentary display of weakness. "I'd be happy to watch, even if you really want my shoulder involved. I just care that much." The last words were strained with a poisonous sarcastic tone and he waited to see her make some expression of discomfort or protest.

Correction: NOW All My Feels Are Dead || Tasha

[talon-andrews]

Your childhood has a lot to do with who you are now. Talon resentfully mused that it had to be at least partially true. He could remember a few horrible experiences from his formative years. He'd tried to block out the memories but now he was all too aware that there could be things he didn't even remember. Even so, he'd had twelve years and three months of a relatively normal life. Like his half-sister Farren (who he actually knows about in this AU), Talon had dropped out of school at that age to focus on Career training full time. Some kids could do both without suffering in either field. Talon hated them and never missed an opportunity to hurt them in sparring. Everything had gotten worse after Farren died in the Quell that year. Talon had taken a tragic, ridiculous amount of time to make the connection, to understand that their father's rage had more to do with his daughter's failure than anything his son had even attempted. That was when he'd learned to hurt people- even when they didn't deserve it. No, especially when they didn't deserve it -in order to feel better. It almost worked.

He was only half-listening to Sasha now and already prepared to rebuke whatever point she finished with but when she presented an offer and a few compliments rather than the reprimand and insults he'd expected, Talon was too stunned to act on his usual instincts. Of course, something in him still wanted to punch her until he saw blood- or maybe until he could stop seeing red -but that approach was just as futile as attempting to hurt her with simple words. Sasha was stronger and more resilient than she looked and acted. Talon hated her for it because, at times, he felt like the very opposite of that. "I don't need you," he said flatly, trying to make it seem like a fact and not an outright rejection. Honestly, the moment Sasha volunteered to be his 'personal punching bag', she'd lost most of her appeal. Violence was never fun or useful if your target actually welcomed it. "You really want to know what you seem like?" He growled sardonically. "You're weak. You care too much and you try too hard. You think you'll make a difference to anyone here? No." Talon forced himself to laugh. "They'll burn that book. And they'll rip your body to pieces," he paused, looked her in the eye and adopted an even more sinister tone. "Or maybe that's my job. So stop worrying about my past and don't you dare wish you could relate to it." Was he rambling? Well, he didn't seem capable of shutting up just yet. This had to run its course. "If you lived it- if you'd even seen it, you'd understand. You'd hate yourself and everyone else. You'd be a killer. Maybe you'd even be good enough." Talon forced his gaze away from her and sank back into a seated position on the couch with a heavy, exasperated sigh. He'd said too much. And it was far too late to change anything.

Concept: All My Feels Are Dead. || Tasha

[talon-andrews]

When Talon was fourteen, just a bit younger than Sasha, he'd killed the family's pet dog. It had started out simple enough. He was just looking for something to hurt that would actually react to the damage. There was cut on his forehead, still bleeding several minutes after his father's latest beating. The rest of his body just ached in general. He hadn't even been thinking properly when he locked the creature in his bedroom and began attempting to recreate his injuries on it. Kicks and punches were easy to place but then he had to grab the knife. The funny thing about the stupid dog was that it had a sweet and trusting disposition; so even when Talon beat the crap out of it, it would just look at him, confused and somehow seemingly apologetic. He'd heard somewhere that most dogs were like that and now it seemed Sasha also fit the profile. Talon couldn't understand why she insisted on caring at all, but this was too much.

No, he wanted to scream at her. You don't get to do that! Within only the space of two minutes, she'd snapped and implied that he was going to die and be forgotten. The words seemed hateful and almost out of character for her but then she reflexively apologized and rushed to his side to offer comfort and that useless, sympathetic rant. The assumption she made about his childhood was infuriating, mostly because it was spot-on; but her last line had him ready to wring her neck. That fury was probably obvious in his eyes but Sasha moved closer anyway. She kissed him on the forehead- she dared to ki- Talon shook his head and growled, audibly interrupting his own thoughts. He stood up straight and shoved Sasha away with more force than necessary. If she'd been a much heavier training target, she would have toppled. As it was, she could very well hit the floor. Talon didn't care what happened. He was barely even paying attention to her. "You don't know anything about me," he snarled, glaring murderously at the girl. "I enjoy killing things, remember? So what makes you think my attitude isn't something I chose for myself?"

Thought: F could stand for several different words actually... || Tasha

[talon-andrews]

Mr. Andrews... Sasha said several other things but it was the name that made Talon feel suddenly ill. He stared at the floor instead and pretended that he was tuning her out because he truly didn't care and not because his heart had just skipped a beat. Technically, there wasn't anything wrong here. There really shouldn't have been, but even the most important people of District 1 addressed him as Talon. Mr. Andrews was his father. Talon once again faced the mental comparisons between himself and the man who'd destroyed his life. No! Talon refused to go back there. He ground his teeth together, practically seething but, after a few seconds, he calmed and moved to stare at Sasha once more. "Okay," he said. "You're right: I don't care about you. You're not a threat to me but you're not any sort of useful either. I don't know why I even bothered with you today..." He was lying- at least partially but who cared? He was going to destroy her in the end and she'd die, one way or another; and now she was actually asking for it. Talon forced himself to smirk. There was no honest amusement or hostile intent to be seen but he resolved to fake it. There were two sure-fire ways to make a person feel bad. One involved physical harm, the other emotional. Oddly enough, he found the second option more appealing when Sasha was his target. "You should care about me," he said. "Because if I hadn't been there, you'd still be lying on the floor in the training center, probably being kicked and laughed at. You're useless, Covens." Woah. Using her surname felt weird. Too formal. Too mature. She was Sasha and in this moment, whether she liked it or not, the girl belonged to him.

Thought: Rachel might not be aware of the existence of FIREmen who actually do set houses on fire so the hot fireFIGHTERS will come put them out... || Tasha

[talon-andrews]

Nice. She thought he was being nice. Well, honestly, Talon was showing much more care and hesitance than he'd usually offer anyone- friend, opponent or enemy alike. He still swore he'd make something out of it soon enough but, no, there was no particular plan to speak of. He frowned, shrugged, and looked away. He was a Career tribute, dammit! He had to pull himself together, regain some self-respect and get things back to normal. "I'm planning," he began with a low, resentful growl that Sasha could probably see straight through. "To be there when you die- whatever that entails." Well, that was it. There was no reason to be nice or even pretend to do so. Not anymore, right? It wasn't like Talon to experience doubt like this. Sasha's words said it best: this was weird. He'd been tempted to kill her from their first encounter and today he'd only helped her in order to gain the opportunity for further torment. Beyond the half-truth he'd just fed her, there wasn't much else to say. But then it hit him. Looking unreasonably pleased with himself, Talon sneered, "But I'll stop being nice if you really want me to."

Who To Care About: Dem Firemen. (mmm hmm go set that house on fire) || Tasha

[talon-andrews]

Friend of yours? Talon wondered. He'd been about to ask but the girl who'd suddenly burst into the room started toward him. She was a little younger than Sasha and notably shorter but something told him this meant nothing. The brief moment of eye-contact confirmed there was something to be wary of but it was already too late. Talon stared, open-mouthed and unable to make a sound at first. Where had she learned to hit like that? And what were the odds she'd teach Sasha a few things? The girl continued speaking but Talon found himself preoccupied with a delayed reaction to her first statement. Hey! He wanted to protest but he only managed to mouth the word and it seemed Sasha hadn't noticed. He wasn't an idiot, though, and surely Sasha believed that. Just as quickly as she'd appeared, the strange, violent girl vanished, but thankfully some of the tension had evaporated along with her.

Sasha didn't seem entirely convinced by his attempt at reassurance, and she was right not to be. She was smart. While Talon knew a lot about injuries and how likely they were to leave lasting marks and lingering damage; he'd learned it all from first-hand experience. He guessed that Sasha possessed similar knowledge but she'd got it from her books or something. "Whatever," he murmured, not quite ready to dismiss the issue but uncertain what else he could say to help the matter. He had to be grateful when Sasha redirected but a closer look and better focused attention revealed something else. That wasn't just stating a fact. That wasn't playfulness or dismissal or sarcasm. The tone that Sasha Covens was using held a notable hint of flirtation. Talon would have smirked but he wasn't going to give away his approval just yet. It was all part of the game- or at least, it would be, as soon as he figured out what game he was even playing.

"Alright," he responded smoothly. "And just know I'd be happy to carry you if you were actually injured or unable to walk as well." This time, there was no threat in his words or expression. This time, Talon was pretty sure he meant it. Even if he was the source of her pain, he'd stick around to see her recover. No one would ever fully understand why he'd even bother talking to- let alone helping her. Talon himself faced doubt and reluctance each time he thought about it, but, here he was: with Sasha and suddenly willing to let her have some control over their odd, twisted little game. "You'll feel at least a little better by tomorrow," he redirected. It might as well have been a promise.

Who To Care About: RACHEL because she's pretty badass! || Tasha

[talon-andrews]

It was weird- almost funny, because Talon had known all along he'd be invited in. He'd even planned on carrying Sasha into the room if necessary but now that the door was open and the implication was there, it just seemed somewhat unreal. He ignored her question while watching her struggle over to the safety of her couch. It had probably been rhetorical anyway: none of them had ever been okay, not really. He shrugged one shoulder even though no one was there to see the gesture of feigned apathy and he pushed the door closed. His eyes scanned what he could see of the flat. It was very much like the suite he shared with Feather and their mentors, just a little fancier than the average home in District 1. He wondered just briefly how it compared to where Sasha had grown up. From what he knew of the cow farming district, Talon assumed the girl probably felt like one of the princesses in her silly stories coming here. Make yourself at home. He nodded even though she was laying down now and unable to see him and, finally, he crossed the room to take a seat in a chair across from where she rested. The silence suddenly felt like a tangible thing: heavy and awkward in the space between them, in the air itself. Talon sighed just to break it and he managed some lame attempt at conversation. It might even reassure her... "If you felt good enough to try walking, then it's probably not that bad. You know, like it can heal." Talon was no healer but that was his best, most optimistic guess. Whatever Sasha had hurt wouldn't recover fully by the time they were in the arena, though. It would take a miracle or at least some strong medicine for that to happen, but who cared? Sasha Covens was a doomed girl anyway. There was no harm in lying to her, especially if it conjured up a smile and Talon caught himself hoping. It would be amusing and maybe it would be fun to damage her further later on, but for now, he'd be glad just to see her acting more normal.

Which To Bake: Us or the Sinckerdoodles? || Tasha

[talon-andrews]

Walk? Talon raised a suspicious eyebrow. A minute ago, she'd needed help just to stand up properly. If this floor was laid out the same way as his, it would be a short trip but still, maybe just enough of a strain to hurt her. Talon pulled his arm back and let it rest at his side, watching Sasha with more curiosity than anything. Would she fall? Was he actually hoping she would? The way she used her hands to brace herself was technically cheating. She might as well have still been leaning on him, but it wasn't so surprising that she trusted the wall more than him. Talon frowned but he followed her out of the elevator and down the short hallway to her flat. The walk was ridiculously slow and cautious. Talon had to take tiny steps to match Sasha's pace. He should have been annoyed. He should have left her to collapse and cry just a few feet away from a safe and comfortable place. Instead, he kept quiet and pressed on. When Sasha came to a stop in front of the nearest door, it was Talon's turn to lean against the wall. He did so lazily with a casual shrug and inquired flatly, "You still okay?"

Which To Bury: Us or the Evidence? || Tasha

[talon-andrews]

Talon had swept her off her feet in every way possible. Aside from tripping her with a broom, of course; although that did sound like something Talon would do.

If you don't appreciate Sasha Covens, think again.

[talon-andrews]

Was she trying to be funny? Of course he'd meant District Ten but, now that it had been brought up, the concept of age got him thinking. If Sasha was ten years old, she'd be smaller, lighter, and even more naïve. At times like this, Talon found it hard to believe he'd ever been that age. All he could remember from before the Quell- when Farren died, when he was twelve -had been filled with dreams and possibilities. Excitement and that stupid, impossible thing called hope. He wondered, just for a moment, if Sasha had a similar mindset at that age, but the answer was suddenly obvious. Half the time, it seemed like she still thought such happy, insane things. He helped Sasha into the elevator and hit the button.

"No, I knew that," he said, expressing his delayed reaction like it should have been obvious. "If you were ten, you'd be..." The words he'd been thinking internally almost tumbled out, but, thankfully, there was a more logical alternative. "Too young to be a tribute. You probably miss those days," he added rather unsympathetically. Then, once again, he was putting far too much thought into his own past. Fifteen hadn't been such a bad year. He'd spent the majority of it with Heath, out of trouble and prepared to fight back whenever he had to. But everyone who mattered had always sworn that eighteen was the year things changed for everyone. You accomplished something great or you died trying. With his eyes on Sasha now, Talon's lips twitched at the corners into a slight, barely visible smile. The elevator came to a sudden stop and Talon reached out to steady Sasha without even thinking, in case she needed the support. This time, he waited for her to make the decision to move.

Which To Ship: Us or Them-- I vote for us, because we're more likely to SURVIVE! || Tasha

[talon-andrews]

Two hundred and forty pounds? When Talon heard the number, he felt as stunned as Sasha sounded. It took him a moment to remember that he'd been exaggerating and another to realize he'd underestimated her weight. Math wasn't a strong point for him and neither was guessing. Somehow it had just made sense to assume that weakness and malnourishment went hand in hand. That said, one hundred and... uh, two? Twenty-five? Whatever half of two hundred and forty was- it didn't seem very heavy, even for a girl. But Talon had better things to focus on. When it seemed that she believed him, he just nodded as she spoke. Of course she couldn't hold that much! She weighted half that- probably less. The most he'd ever run with had been around fifty pounds and that was a brief exercise. There was strength and then there was stupidity. Talon would know: he had both.

The way Sasha stumbled dragged Talon out of that senseless musing and he was somehow grateful for the distraction. One more failed calculation could bring on a headache and that was the last thing he needed. "Sort of," he repeated, unable to hide the sneer. He pressed his arm more tightly against her. "No, I got you." After a moment frozen in place debating it, he bent over just slightly and hooked his other arm under Sasha's knees then scooped her up, looking rather pleased with himself. He'd been partially right: she wasn't unbearably heavy or anything, but it still seemed like rushing with her in his arms would hurt both of them. He took it slow instead and started for the elevator, staring down at her occasionally to see how she reacted. "You're, uh, Ten, right?" He inquired when the reached the elevator. He set her down a little too quickly but gripped her side so she stayed on her feet beside him.

Which To Cry About: Us Or The Ship is Going to Sink and Kill All Of Our FEELS? || Tasha