The Fifth Annual Writer Games: The Fall

District Four Male: Benthic Derval [lostwithmyfriends]

"Do you think of me when it's dark, and you're breathless, and we're both drowning in this underwater world all alone?"

Name: Benthic Derval

Age: Seventeen

District: Four; Fishing

Sex: Male

"And do you see me in this darkness? Wandering? We're pale, and sleeping no more as we creep towards midnight."

Physical Appearance: Despite spending hours alongside the coast, Benny's skin remains pale and light. He burns easily, his freckles either a faded brown or simmering red. With roseate lips and an uneven, circular nose, he fades in the horizon and blends in with the sun. Benny's eyes are sea foam and seaweed, floating tirelessly in clear waters; his ears curve out like a harbor built into the sea, his jawline the sharp silhouette of a pier beneath the stars. His face is wide and angular, combing down into a broad neck and broader shoulders. He's tall, built to be noticed, but the thing about wonders is that they chip over time, and even the clouds dissipate and sink into the sea.

Personality: Benthic is the sand on the coastline, a million things and nothing all at once. He's a dreamer that's just out of reach of the waves, a philosopher vying to lose all thought; he's heat and brine, wishes and wants, a yearning whose source is too deep to understand. He's a believer of fear and running, of having strength and the knowledge not to use it. Perhaps he's naive in his silence, absent in his charm. He's overwhelmed by noise and taken aback by aggression, a young man who's acquainted with pain and greets it like a dear friend. He's divine and lackluster, coals covered in mud and water, blood dripping down and mixing in with your tears. Benny's held down by the weight of everything—he sinks. He's too tired to swim, too tired to stay awake.

"Do you hear me when we're sinking? Can you listen in this endless abyss?"

Background: He was a child when his mother carried him into the ocean. He was seven years old when she loved him and held his feeble hands, and he was seven when she whispered into his ears and gazed at him like he was a seraph born golden and gay. Benthic remembers the way that the sunlight glistened beneath the water, its yellow glow slowly drowsing into a breathless blue. He remembers the way his skin waned and grew lousy, limbs lazy and eyes closed, euphoric. Perhaps he misses that feeling—one of eternities and darknesses and black holes staying still. He remembers sinking until his lungs felt like lead, sinking until his fingers slipped away, and sinking until his body became mud and he learned how to die while floating.

Benny was a child when he and his mother drowned because they were afraid. She couldn't bear the chance of seeing him killed, of seeing her boy grow up and then enlisted to crimson. Iona Derval drowned her son so the Games couldn't; she let the waves take them so Panem wouldn't have the chance.

Benny remembers waking up on the shore, the hot sands on his arms, clothes wet and heavy. He remembers how the sun was back to being bright, and how that made him feel empty. His hand was still in his mother's, and she was looking at him like he was a human born golden and gay.

He promised her that he'd never die. She promised him the same thing. And yet, both still yearn to see the sun turn blue again.

Reaped or Volunteered: Reaped

Weapon of Choice: Spears

Token: A silver stone from the bottom of the ocean. It's not silver, nor does he know if it really came from the seafloor. Iona gave it to him that day, telling him she lifted it right from the blackened, drowned sands, and it was silver then—it's not anymore.

"I am quiet in these abyssal tides, enfolded in the sand at the bottom of a thousand seas. I am listless, I am tired, and I'm thinking of you as time washes away."