District Thirteen
bisexual
Sexuality
Airron won't leave me alone
Relationship Status
District 13 Military Commander
Occupation
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Angel
Offline
Virginia time
Tag me @jasminforte
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Post by Jasmin Forte on Jan 12, 2015 0:58:49 GMT
Jensen was coming home. Jensen was coming home. Jensen was coming home. She'd been replaying it like a mantra for two days - ever since she'd gotten a call from a fellow soldier, relaying that they'd taken a Stone into custody. Some of her prayed fiercely to whomever was tipping her life, rocking it like a loose ship in a hurricane, that it wasn't her beloved. She couldn't consider him being severed from his happiness, however false it was. She couldn't imagine Jensen and Hal, without their makeshift father or mother...
She'd erased that idea out of her mind, wiping it clean like a whiteboard. It'd make no sense for him to be sent back without his two siblings. When she was given a description, her heart'd swelled. Jensen. She couldn't picture him now. He'd probably grown up so much. He was probably scarred.
Jasmin leaned heavily over a sink in the tiny, corner bathroom that her, seven soldiers, Kestrel, Pike (and lately, Damien) shared. She felt the sink creak under her weight, her bandaged arms sturdily braced on either side of it. She coughed wetly, bile rising in her throat. The mixture of morphling withdrawal and stress left her stomach upset. She sniffed hard, shaking her halo of tousled, flat blonde hair, moving it out of her eyes. She ran the faucet, cupping her sweaty hands under the faint stream, letting the icy rivulets slide through her fingertips. She tossed a handful into her face to stun herself out of the sick. A faint knock sounded at the door.
"Commander Forte? Mr.Stone is waiting at the door." She rolled her eyes. "It's Jasmin, Missy. You're off duty-" She said with mock annoyance, snapping back into her always-joking manner. She pushed at the door, trying a few times to jiggle the lock loose. She crossed the hallway, standing in front of the door. She heard light conversation outside; soldiers trying to make him comfortable, no doubt.
She opened the door, swallowing the rock that'd formed in her throat. She poked her tongue against her cheek, instinctively reaching a welcoming arm out toward Jensen. He isn't a soldier. She reminded herself, retracting her arm at the last second. She'd grown a steady inch and a half, and her hair was longer and more evenly one color, dulled from not being shampooed as often (they were finnicky with bath supply handouts for the soldiers). Her arms were thickly bandaged up to the elbows, and her shirt had 'J.Forte, Commander' embellished in the breast. Her pants were tight-fitting, but most definitely from her own wardrobe, as they were too tight for a uniform. Her eyes were bright and chocolately, much less hazel than those months ago, and her feet were bare. Her toes, oddly, were unpainted, as were her fingernails. She'd painted them often before her military advancement. She looked well, her face glowing from her icy spray of water and a warm, olive tan.
She looked...healthy, besides a few extra worry lines and shadows that'd been covered with a light layer of concealer under her eyes. "Jensen-" She finally said, biting her lip to keep from appearing too childishly ecstatic. Her heart jumped at contact.
Behind the door, Pike stood, leaning against the wall. Him and Jensen had been buddy-buddy in the past; Pike'd offered to teach him how to fish, but with their capture, he'd never been given the chance. He looked nearly as worried as his comrade, his pale, pouty mouth twisted with anxiety. He stood close in case he had to reel Jasmin out of any emotional sort of mania. They'd gotten good at that - calming each other down.
"Should I get the boy a cot set up in the Commander's room?" A male soldier cleared his throat, stumbling over 'commander.' He'd been given the OK to address her by her first name, but it didn't quite flow off his tongue.
"...His name is Jensen, Dorian, and I've got you." Pike was in another of his dark moods. He was usually so joking, especially with the newcomer, Delainey, who'd struck up a relationship with Dorian, but the mood in the room was getting to him, so he remained sulky.
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May 17, 2024 11:45:11 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Jan 19, 2015 4:05:45 GMT
Jasmin. The word bounced off the hollow walls of his mind. Echoing, singing, chanting, belting, scratching- the name seemed so familiar, but it took days for him to put a face to the home-like feeling that burrowed in the pit of his stomach. It was all they said, the only thing they would talk about. Jasmin, Jasmin, Jasmin- it got to the point to where he was sick of hearing the identification, his lips instinctively curling into a frown as the huddle of strangers poured the stories and supposed facts down his throat. Tall, blonde, and authoritative. A commander of the army, queen of the war, but that just didn't fit. Nothing did. Until he stepped foot in onto the sandy platform of District Four. His home. Up until then, he'd been a blank slate. A broken boy stumbling around Six in the midst of night. Not a thought, a memory, or even a clue rattled around his hollow shell of a skull. His clothing was beyond tattered- his blue jeans ripped and stained, his shoes lacking any true base to them, and his teal shirt remarkably only carried a shallow cut to the side, giving a preview to the scrap along his chest from a grabby tree branch. The silken charcoal locks that were embedded at the roots onto his head remained stationary- short and fleece like amongst the top of his head, untouched by nature's hand. His eyes were dull, the once shimmering crystal orbs were sunken with confusion and worry. Step by step, he asked questions. Where was he? What happened? Who was he? An answer wasn't supplied, not yet. He spent days scavenging the out laying lines of the District, picking at bushes for berries and growling at the rats that tempered with his stash of stolen goods while he attempted to doze off. Nightmares flooded his slumber, invading any and every crevasse of his mind, scorching his sealed eyes with horror after horror until he stirred screaming under the bench he'd taken shelter to. People just glanced his way, turning up their noses at the homeless hooligan. Another washed up teen left to the sidelines, most likely an aftermath of the war. He heard their words and little by little learned about what was going on in the Districts- and that's when it started to sink in. Those thoughts, those memories, and even those clues began to trickle back in, returning to his mind and making him collapse against the the gritty pavement of Six in a wave of anguish and agony. He remembered. Jensen remembered all of it. That night throb through his mind like it was only yesterday. His body at one moment was cuddled into the cushioning of the old couch back in his childhood home as Hal curled against his side and the girl meant to be watching over them fiddled in the kitchen and then the next he was being dragged across the floor while putting up the best fight he could against the men abducting him and his younget cousin. The butt of a gun smacked against his forehead as he went to rip at the exposed flesh on the man pulling him out of his front door, with an unpleasant pinch of a needle in his forearm, the liquid within the vile draining into his veins, accompanying the pain from the impact. The last thing the teen remembered before blacking out was a girlish shriek and then the splatter of blood mingling with the fresh uncanny silence. After that, it was just bits and pieces- his world a blur. There were many medical rooms, the occasional touch of a nurse or friendly face, and then Felix. The man crowded his mind, the questions only rekindling as he tried to draw out an answer to where he was, but there was nothing. All Jensen could remember of the past few months was that he'd been somewhere fancy with Hal and Felix, trained and brainwashed by soldiers, and that he was happy. He didn't know why, but just thinking back on it made him smile. Something about the Manor he'd been in and the time spent there made his heart sing, but now he was sobbing. On the side of the street with his knees drawn to his chest, he couldn't help but feel alone and left out. Why was he free while Hal and Felix were kept behind? That's how the soldiers found him, whimpering and clawing at his skin as he tried to delve deeper into his tampered thoughts. Nothing, there wasn't a single hint as to wht went on other than bits and pieces that he'd been granted to remember. It was like a present that he didn't know he was given, for the President erased all vital information, but left him the good times. The moment he was peeled off of th sidewalk and he sputtered his name, Jensen was csrted off back to Four. To meet Jasmin. Apparently being a Stone was important, and he didn't see why, but as the train inched ever closer to his home District, everything else came rushing back. Before that night, before his brain had been swept and restocked- it came back. His parents dropping him off at school, his older brother fending off the bullies who would pick at his shyness, then the darker things like the car accident that took his leg, his brother's sanity, and his mother's life- to which his father followed in suit, getting swallowed by the sea. After that, there was the memories of growing up with no one but Felix, and the adjusting to the fake leg- which he was inevitable picking at the whole train ride. But then there was her. Jasmin. Everything about her flooded in the more they spoke about her, and he couldn't quite grasp how they described her. That wasn't who he remembered. Throughout the trip the soldiers tried to coax him into changing or showering or talking, but he wasn't having it. Jensen had always been terribly shy, and after his traumatic past few months, he wasn't opening up to these strangers. It wasn't until Pike got his hands on him that he relaxed a bit. The withering, yet familiar face gave him hope, but he couldn't help but crumble under the stress of meeting this girl they hyped so much about. He knew her, god, he lived with her for a while. This was his sister, yet, he couldn't find the familiarity. It seemed foreign to even think of her, so wrong. Deep down he felt nothing but joy about reuniting with the only true face he could place, his last bit of home, but every time he went to express this, he only could taste bitter hatred on his lips. Beyond confused, he just bit his tongue and allowed himself to be led down the halls of a ominous building with a heard of soldiers at his side and Pike latched onto his arm. Each step closer to the door at the end of the hall, he could fell his heart in his throat. He couldn't swallow, or even think for that matter- let alond form a single syllable as they asked if he was ready. All he could do was offer a swift nod, even if it was a lie. Part of him wanted to take off, not wanting to ever see her face again, but something kept him still- his need to go home. Picking at the sleeves of his long sleeved shirt, his mind silently fell to the itchy feeling of the bandage at his side and bandaids wrapped around his knuckles- anything to distract him from the knocking against the door. Overall, he looked healthy, aside from his few wounds from his journey and clearly frazzled state- but mentally? He was a wreck. Worse than ever before when it came to socializing and weak to the touch. He was just a feather in the wind. Without warning, the door eased open, the sight before him making him blink several times in confusion. Swollen, reddened eyes scanned up and down the female with confusion, his eyelids dragged down into a jerky blink as he sucked in a sharp inhale. Who was this? This wasn't the brunette, snarky woman his brother fell in love with- this was someone new. Someone he couldn't help but spite, the pit of his stomach knotting as he glared down at her. Pushing the vile feeling aside, he squeaked out in a hoarse voice, his vocal cords still not used to being put to use. "J-Jasmin," he cut himself off, his gaze darting to the floor as they began to speak above him, talking as if he wasn't right there. Blinking almost religiously, he couldn't shake the blur from his eyes- be it tears or just shock, his vision was blurred as he struggled to count the black speckles on the tile crusted under his toes. Fingers fiddling with the fraying end of his worn cuff, he breathed heavily, the patch at his side becoming an almost unbearable sensation. Refusing to look up, Jensen sunk further and further into his shell. Could Commander Forte fish the turtle back into the sunlight or would he rot?
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Post by Jasmin Forte on Jan 19, 2015 4:41:45 GMT
He looks so angry. Is it hormones? Is he mad at me? Is it Post Traumatic Stress? What did they do to my Jensen? He was like a son to her - even though they were only a few years apart. Jasmin'd never been an amazing guardian, but her devotion and affection had always been enough to keep them happy. She'd worked to pay for their necessities, their wants...
She'd masqueraded as a housewife; although they knew it wasn't easy for her, they let her care for them. It'd made her happy. Their smiles drove her to being a better woman, a better soldier, and a better her.
And even with their absence was that still true. She'd thought of giving up countless times, but she had people to take care of. Her people, plus a few friends to keep her sane. And now, her past had spit in her face and turned things wobbly. When he spoke, though, she felt her heart th-thump in her ears. She bobbed her head, lifting a hand to wipe her nose, coughing mildly to steady her voice. "I know a lot has changed, but you're with family again, so it'll all be okay," she guided him further into the rickety house.
"Hey, Jensen," Delainey, unlike the others, hadn't respectfully moved out of the way, "he's a cutie!" She said with gusto, trying to crack the ice. But she didn't quite understand the ways of Jasmin's little bird.
"Delainey, fuck off," Jasmin retorted kindly, "leave us alone for a bit."
"OK," Delainey shushed, "...I'll get him something to eat. Pike's got some of your old clothes folded in Jazzy's room." She waved her hand in a wide, obnoxious circle, then saw herself out.
"She doesn't understand that you're shy. She's helped me out a lot." The blonde cleared her throat. "You look a lot taller, J." She said offhandedly, just like her old self. She tried to smile, but it didn't quite sit right on her face. "You look...so much older. But what else did I expect? It's been awhile-" She was a spinning top at this point, spewing word-vomit.
"Jasmin," Pike cautioned from the doorway, then he stalked off with a raven-haired girl, hand-in-hand.
"Sorry. Sorry, give me a few minutes to adjust." She apologized to the younger boy. Jasmin? Using coping methods? Crazy. "I'm fine. I'm good." She confirmed after a moment. "Morphling makes me talk a lot." She registered back into her charismatic ways smoothly. She was back to ever-joking, on-top-of-the-world, sane Jasmin. But even recovered people had their moments.
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May 17, 2024 11:45:11 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Feb 3, 2015 2:08:08 GMT
Something clicked in the recesses of his mind, the sound so excruciating that he winced and nearly swatted his palm against his forehead, but managed to hold his curled fists at his side. He shook, their voices burrowing in the roots of his ears, rocking him to the core as he quivered. Words, words, words- they drilled and pounded and Jensen just couldn't take the blinding pain they brought. Memories surged to the surface, some he couldn't quite remember playing out- something doctored up by the Capitol to fill in the holes, and others as vivid as day. He could just barely grasp onto a few, watching them over and over as he tried to block out the conversations going on around him. He didn't care about what they had to say, and he didn't want their sympathy. He didn't need that, didn't want it. A hand hooked around his back, driving him into the room seemingly not noticing his sudden change in demeanor. It wasn't noticeable to the naked eye, for they didn't feel the piercing jabs at his cranium or hear the screechs raking across his ear drums. No, he just looked tense, face twisted into a mask of disgust and unease.
And to think, one word set him off. Like a switch flipped and he went from elated to be home to dreading moving another inch forward. Just one single word, family.
The word should have never left her tongue, it didn't belong there. She didn't have the right to call him that, and the moment they were alone, he couldn't stop himself from moving out of her reach. His actions were slow, and not something of his own. It was as if he was locked away in his own body, watching something else work against his bone, pull at his lips, and add a twinge of disgust in his eyes. This wasn't him, and he fought to find his voice, but his attempts were fruitless.
"With family again?" Jensen spat, lips curling into a scowl as he squeezed his fists into tighter balls, eyes darkening into a shade of blue not even the ocean dared to turn. "It'll be okay?" He was fuming, voice hissing with hate as he stepped back rather than forward, "Felix is gone, Hal is gone," he went to add another name, but his mind blanked. There was someone else and he knew it. Someone who was home but he could only manage to muster up a face. Shaking his head, he mustered up his courage and continued to let everything off his chest, "I don't want to be here, it won't be okay. I want my brothers- my family. They're not here, you're not home, Jasmin," her name fell so vile on his lips, "This isn't how it was meant to be! We were meant to be happy, and then you- you did this. You split us up. They're over there and I was kicked out, because of you!" His legs gave out, his prosthetic collapsing under his weight as he fell to the floor.
Pressing his palms to his eyes, he gasped, tears washing down his cheeks. What was happening to him? He didn't mean what he said- what it said. That wasn't him, he lost control and just snapped, but now he was back, sobbing on his knees as he hid his face from the woman he'd just flipped on. He was ashamed he'd let the words fall across his lips, he'd never say that even if it was true. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbled in repetition, shaking in place. He was beyond bipolar, unable to control himself at the worst moments. His apologies halted swiftly, his voice cracking as he screamed into the calloused surface of his hands, ripping at the walls as he trembled.
"What did they do to me?!"
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District Thirteen
bisexual
Sexuality
Airron won't leave me alone
Relationship Status
District 13 Military Commander
Occupation
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Angel
Offline
Virginia time
Tag me @jasminforte
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Post by Jasmin Forte on Feb 3, 2015 2:32:27 GMT
Jasmin watched the fleet of tenseness that swathed Jensen's face, her jaw tensing and moving to smooth out the rickety, stressed joints. And when he started talking, the ache spread from her jaw to her chest. She didn't show any sign of response, much less remorse or apology. She knew this situation had never truly been her fault. She couldn't have avoided the Capitol for long.
She only reacted when he staggered and fell. She didn't reach out to brace him, for he probably would've wanted anything but her help at that moment. "I was going t' leave you after I realized that y'all were living without the burdens of your pasts, if that's any consola-" Her hand smoothed across his close cropped hair with hesitation as he bellowed into his hands.
"Get him some whiskey, Del," The blonde called into the hallway, voice even and taut.
"He's just a kid!" Pike exploded from the doorway, but the dark-haired vixen obliged. Delainey was reckless, untame - she'd thrown caution to the wind years ago. If the boy wanted a drink, he'd get himself a drink.
"He's not a kid." The blonde said thinly, the low chime of glasses clattering in the dining room a gentle, familiar symphony. She'd taken to holding onto the familiars in times of stress; it proved to be a good coping tactic. "Don't apologize, J. We don't know what all you remember, anyhow." She said with gusto, stretching her arms over her son-type figure to clasp hold of the drinks - one filled significantly taller than the other. She knelt and offered the drink (which was meant to be used strictly for medical purposes!) "Take small sips. It'll calm you down." She was careful not to make any further physical contact, instead trying to break the solid ton of ice with her usual humor. "Don't expect me to willingly hand you over whiskey ever again."
Pike glowered from the kitchen. How is she staying so calm? How is she cracking jokes? What the Hell's happened to the kid, anyway? He thought with surly attitude.
Delainey took a comfortable spot in the worn down leather sofa that was so used to her, it cupped her assets like her own clothes. She poured down a glass of whiskey, swishing it around her mouth just to feel the pleasant burn.
Meanwhile, Jasmin hadn't moved from her bent position beside Jensen, her thumb methodically smoothing over the glass, swiping away and condensation. Everything felt so surreal.
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