I have always understood why vultures mate for life. You can’t live among a sickness without starting to become it. There is a quiet kind of dying in always waiting for death.
— Yves Olade, “antinous among the reeds”

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@thevultur
I have always understood why vultures mate for life. You can’t live among a sickness without starting to become it. There is a quiet kind of dying in always waiting for death.
— Yves Olade, “antinous among the reeds”

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“If Death ever came, he’d look like him. All black and sleek and tall and cunning and cold and harsh— Beautiful. Terrible. Pale; grey, platinum—barely is. Barely should be. He looks like he does not belong in a war. He looks like he could be a thing made for starting a war. Something important. Something that she would pray for in a cathedral, on her knees, eyes closed. He could be made into poems or myths or falling stars. Not facts. Not history. Not badevilsinistercorrupted—”
— 8;26 – Nevermore by vassilissa (via sebastivns)
my mother says / every death has been done // before
Kristin Chang, from “Intoxicated British Boy, 19, Kills Chinese Grandfather Visiting His Daughter,” published in HeArt (via lifeinpoetry)
[…] Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death,
John Keats, from Ode To A Nightingale (via medeae)
men who play god will die like one / self para
( a myth barely remembered, and their names but a whisper. )
This story has always been about a black hole, pay attention.

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stefan salvatore aka hurt puppy
everything you do is a ritual you hold death on the back of your eyelids, feel hands where there aren’t you can be a wild animal if you want to be after all this time, i am scared because i should be
Sophia Tempest Parsons, “Ritual,” published in Metatron (via medeae)
chip-foster:
Chip started nodding quickly. “Th-They’re done. I-I got in early.” He’d sent Evie off on the first train to Three that morning with Paslee to look after her. Even if Evie was old enough now to understand a Gamemaker had to be very available during the Games, he preferred she be somewhere there were more distractions. “A-And have you finished all your chores?” he taunted as he slid a striker toward the other end of the table.
.
“Don’t micromanage me. I did, and at the same time never will,” Lysander cut it off with indulgence, in the same way you said careful to an inferior without actively taking offense. “My chores are everything. I’ll be done when it’s done.”
jeaninetwill:
She hummed, faintly. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Jeannie had no control over anything that happened to her, it seemed, so there was no way to argue with him on facts anyway. Besides, it almost soothed something in her restless soul. Whatever would happen, would happen. “Is this another lesson we’re having right now?” she tried to joke.
.
“No, I’m no position to be teaching you lessons,” Lysander countered -- also to remind her that these all were not lessons. If anything, it was out of place to be talking to a Victor -- or anything in the between -- to begin with.
everettlance:
Everett shrugged a bit. “I’ll take the suggestions for next time,” he said, “though if you think I’m gonna suggest my tributes watch the Games I died in, you should think again. It probably won’t inspire much confidence.”
.
“Why not?” Lysander simply inquired, because he saw no shame in death, no shame in the lessons it taught. He could see, though, why Everett saw it differently, why his experience built for a different narrative.

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treelish:
One time, I buy eggs one time. she let it play, feeling comfortable enough in the presence of lysander to now make a little bit of fun of herself. I know. I will. I have vegan recipes. she was capable. and she knew, or at least hoped, that by this point Lysander knew that. at the very least, in the kitchen.
.
He smiled softly at the counter. He wasn’t even a vegan, but he did prefer dairy-free bakery, if he could help it. “Don’t worry about it. There’s a little more to that point. The Games haven’t even...” A sigh later, he shrugged. “We’re days from the launch.”
kyanne-flint12:
KyAnne tilted her head this way and that in thought. Speaking too blatantly could sign her death. She was smarter than that. “There are just times, and for all I know it could have been completely intentional, that things have seemed to be…. more than intended.” Her mind instinctively flashed back to the flames that tore through the arena in the last games, wild and untamed.
.
Lysander arched an eyebrow, but didn’t want to launch himself down that slate, as interesting as it was to consider how other people perceived his work. “A force field failed. A main one, at the most important time -- it’s true, but one nonetheless. That’s about all the error we have ever done in my experience as Head Gamemaker. The rest I wouldn’t worry about if I were you.”
treelish:
she looked over at him, trying to read him. She was a fairly intuitive person, good at picking up on things, but this had her a little confused. was he really proud of it? the title held a lot of importance to him, she knew that. I’m happy for you. she typed, slowly, worrying her cheek as it read. she wasn’t sure how that one would play, especially because she didn’t much care beyond how it affected her. but… well, someone had to say it. Congratulations. I’ll make a cake when we get home.
.
After sighing it out, Lysander simpered with genuine gratitude -- almost. “Thank you.” The promise of cake was amusing, because he figured this was the highest reward a former baker could come up with, and he did appreciate the intention. And so he nodded, pursing his lips together. “Vegan, please. After these Games are over.”
everettlance:
Everett felt like he’d failed a test he hadn’t known he was taking. “Well what Games would you have assigned then?” He felt like to a certain extent they were all the same, but he’d never had the Career fanaticism for them.
.
“Good question.” This was actually intriguing to him, something to nerd about. “If I were to go classics, the 75th, the 96th and... the 16th. If I were to go for mine, the 120th, the 122nd -- sorry -- and the 124th.”
viola-zephyr:
Viola’s shoulders relaxed as he spoke. She hasn’t even realized she’d kept them tense, fully prepared to turn on an agreeable actress face at whatever answer Lysander could give. This answer though…she understood it, at least. That surprised her. It was the same reason she kept coming back to the Tower every six months, or nearly was. The kids were going to die. The hope for the people involved to be responsible, to make the process as…painless as possible, she supposed. Their positions were different, and he had far more of a hand in the fates of the children than she ever would, but she could see his point of view, and that was honestly more than she’d thought she would be able to see.
“Dedication,” she repeated. “Yeah, I can see that.” Viola gave Lysander a small smile.
.
Lysander shrugged it off, as if after having said something entirely foolish. To him, it wasn’t, but he knew perception did strange things to people’s opinions. And even though he thought he was right and more lucid than most in order to have this strength to keep going despite everything... despite that, he still felt the need to apologize somehow. But he didn’t. He always refused to, when it came to the living. To the dead children, he maybe would have apologized. There was nothing more to say.

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jeaninetwill:
“All the time,” she admitted without hesitation, quiet voice and a faint smile on her lips. “Can’t stop, actually. It’s something very familiar to think about, I’m sure you agree. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have death to obsess over.”
.
He did not want to take it as seriously as it was intended, but he couldn’t dismiss it either. With a weak simper, Lysander flashed his eyebrows, as if to take distance. “Well, Jeanine, maybe focus on living first. One way or another, you got out. What happens next will happen regardless of obsessions and concern.” It was peculiar advice, coming from him, especially as the sort of Gamemaker he prided himself on being.
*becomes everything I dreamed of when I was little and almost doesn’t notice*