fair is foul, and foul is fair // {emigo day 6}

[Deleted]

There were too many bouts of darkness between the trails of light that meant I was still alive. Although I’d spent the first several minutes in Iago’s saving arms merely struggling to escape, I’ve found no other choice but to rest my head against his shoulder and at least pretend like I can trust him in some way. However, I must be careful with the things I deem make pretend, because we are all just ghostly illustrations of what we pretend to be, nothing more. The longer I pretend as if I know how to feel emotions such as love and despair, the sooner that will hold true.

After a long period of clutching Iago’s dirtied shirt, the remainders of my legs wrapped around his torso, he finally sets me down, and the two of us catch our breaths for a moment. My head is spinning, not from the obvious physical pain that circulates my body, but from the mental controversy that has invaded my thoughts. I am back to where I was when I was just an eleven-year old girl in the Moreno household: youngest, weakest, easiest to get rid of. I don’t want to be dependent on Iago, but I have no other choice if I want to live and god, do I want to live.

But I can’t…I can’t fall into this trap: the same trap that I’d fallen into the day I told Rolex I loved him. No, I can’t be dependent anymore with people pulling me up off the ground – I can’t afford to owe anyone anything, not anymore. I’ll win – legs or no legs, I’ll do it! Heron Kimberling did it nearly eight years ago; surely so can I. But I don’t want to win; I don’t want to go home. No no no, not home. But I can’t die. No, I can’t do that. Fear settles in and I know I can’t stay and let dependence wrap its tiny fingers around my deteriorating heart, so I inch backwards a bit until I feel something against my back – twine? Suddenly, fire is all around me, and it burns. I rush away from this disaster, crawling across the ground until I run directly into another line of twine and fall onto broken pieces of glass.

There are tears running down my face – tears that mean I’m human but tears that also mean I’m weaker than I was only days ago. How quickly I’ve changed from a girl with fiery fists to a girl who doesn’t even have two feet to stand on. The tears are unstoppable, rolling down my cheeks as I lie on my side. I try to push myself up – I try again and again – but it is no use. “Iago…you…” I try to speak between tears, but breathing hurts and speaking hurts and everything hurts and I don’t know how much I like having feelings anymore. Maybe I should just go back to being eternally numb. Things were easier then. “Iago…” I whisper one more time, the word the most familiar thing I have left in this arena.

[Ewe's trap]
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[ooc - I would so greatly appreciate if no one else jumped into this thread. We really just want a last chance to have a nice lil thread here with some nice lil feels, kthx]

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I a g o
I z a r – M c C l a i n e

•••

The night has come, and my panicked footsteps press soft and slow into the grass. Emery clings to my back, her head lulled against my shoulder. We have run away from the giant beast and the others. Proven that we are breakable, that in our arrogance, we’d thought they wouldn’t be able to touch us. I’d forgotten that such pride comes before death. We are not lucky enough to have the bonds of sistership

[/color], not divine enough to be fighting for a greater good.[/color] She and I have never had a good reason to be what we are, have we? It’s then I turn to put her down onto the ground. My body is tired, and my eyes are heavy.

For the first time in a week I allow myself to close my eyes first. Perhaps it is the weakness that I see in her now, but heaviness overtakes me. It is a fevered fit of sleep. I tumble through the cornfields, with stalks striking my body as I run. At once I come to the edge and burst forth onto a green hill with a single tree. Benat sits on a short wooden bench. He turns to stare at me, and gives a small smile. I hesitate. Seeing his ghost is nothing new for my dreams here, but never have I been so close. I move to take a step up the hill, but my legs are still heavy, and I don’t get far before falling to my knees. Benat stands, looking down at me as I struggle, hands now clutching at clumps of dirt. I try to pull up, but there’s no give. Just a heavy weight on each of my limbs.

“Iago…” My eyes open to the sound of Emery and the hiss of fire and smoke. Her body lay bleeding and broken by some sort of trap, one we must not have seen in the darkness. I suppose we weren’t the only clever ones left in the arena.[/color] I blink and scrape the sleep out of my eyes. Standing, I grab for my glaive and move closer to her. The damage is bad—her body mangled by the jabberywocky and now broken by the shards of glass. I move a hand to my mouth and try to block the pain that’s come to my face. We had come so close to escaping, and I had fallen asleep, not watching to see that she had still needed me. And in my desire to be—to think of and only for myself, I’d left her to die after all.

My pack was light now. There wasn’t enough to mend her wounds, was there? But we were here together. I’d rescued her for the very reason of not being alone. We wouldn’t die alone in the arena, left behind by our families. We weren’t meant to fade into dust like the rest of them, names carved on walls and left to disappear. Not as though the rest of them would ever understand. Whoever escaped this hell would go on to live a happy, wonderful life in the capitol, with money, with marriages, with babies and all the things a winner would take for granted. They didn’t have to be haunted by our faces, not the two of us that knew nothing of happiness or belonging.

“Emery…” I whisper, inching closer. A small flame of anger rises within me, and I clutch my glaive. I don’t want her to be ended by Ewe. I don’t want the foolish queen Lucy to think she was allowed to destroy what had been one of the greatest warriors in the arena. Or for that faceless Saffron to add a footnote to her story—because all of us were just that—by ending Emery. Unlike Ewe, she was no dead weight. She was—I look at her wounds and I kneel closer. She was the one that had as much to gain as I, the one that had kept me safe and sane. We may have been monsters but I was still capable of mercy. I was still able to think and see that she was, and would be better off this way.

“Go to sleep.”

[attacks emery with glaive]
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“Emery,” Iago whispers softly. Another quiet sob escapes my lips, because it feels good to hear my name again, not as if I’m an object but as if I’m a live human being. It was easier when I treated myself as if I were an object; I didn’t have to worry about pain like this – the kind of pain that seeps through your veins and into your nerves and ends up in the very core of your brain, slowly dismantling each thought piece by piece. My head still resting wearily against the ground, I listen for Iago’s voice, his footsteps, anything. I just want to hold tight to his shirt again and rest my head against his shoulder – although I’d much prefer to have Rolex here…but I can at least pretend, can’t I? I can at least tell myself I love Iago the way I love Rolex and maybe my head might speak truth someday.

I lift my head from the ground with the little energy I have, relieved by the sounds of footsteps. Help me, my mind is crying. I don’t want to die…I can’t die. I have to see Rolex’s face again, if just once more. I turn my head, hoping that Iago is here to help me out of this disaster of glass scattered around me, hoping he’ll carry me out like the little weak child I have become. However, the sight of the kneeling boy with a glaive clutched in his right hand does not gratify me whatsoever. “Go to sleep,” he says, but my eyes are plastered to the weapon in his hand, my whole body taken by an unceasing series of shivers. No. No, no, no. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, I lied. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to ever die. There’s no honor in death, no mercy. There’s just an end: an ending I don’t want to face.

“No…no,” I shake my head, my eyes widening as I inch backwards in fear of a boy who I never saw as a monster until now – now that I have nothing left, now that I am weak. However, I realize that there’s only death in moving backwards. The future is forwards, and if I want one, I’d better move in the right damn direction. I wipe the tears away from my eyes, hoping that it will make me look at least a tiny bit less weak. Instead of cowering away from the killer before me, I throw my hands out in front of me and grab Iago’s shirt, using my one remaining knee to knock the glaive out of his hands so that it lands further than an arm’s length away. “You’re not going to…no, I won't...!” I shout between breaths as I get on top of Iago with the little strength I have left.

“You’re nothing…nothing without me! Once I'm dead…you’ve got nothing. You’re alone, Iago. For the rest of your life, that’s what you’ll be. Fucking alone.” My attempt to pin him to the ground is of great failure, but I dig my hands into his chest, hoping it might keep him down. "Keep killing people who almost give a damn about you and let me know how that works out." This is why I told myself I wasn't going to be anything more than a numb body; this is why I wrapped a thick coat of unfeeling around myself and denied any love I ever thought I had with Rolex. If only I could have that coat back, because winter has finally come and the air suddenly stings with a painful cold. There's a difference between Iago and I. I don't tell people they matter to me and then turn around and kill them. I just kill them. I bring my fists up, ready to plant them both on Iago's face, but a sudden shot of pain rushes through me and I let out a quiet cry of pain as I discover the large piece of glass in my right arm. I bring my fists up one more time, but the single moment's hesitation cost me quite enough.

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I a g o
I z a r – M c C l a i n e

•••

The cameras have to be focused on the two of us now. Is this what Invidia wanted, to see us turn on one another? It must have been obvious from the beginning that I would stop at nothing to win. Iago Izar-McClaine had nothing to return home to, why would he care about anyone else’s pathetic lives, wishes, and wants?

[/color] I’d warned my cousin to get out of District Eleven, whether or not I made it home alive. Sampson had to be long gone now, if Deval were as smart as I wanted to give him credit for. Without them, there was nothing but rows and rows of corn, a few broken down cabins, and a whole lot of nothing. Perhaps that’s what left the others so surprised: this whole time they had something they were fighting for besides their lives; I was just here to claim what I felt I’d never had.

“You’re nothing…nothing without me! Once I'm dead…you’ve got nothing. You’re alone, Iago. For the rest of your life, that’s what you’ll be. Fucking alone.”[/color] Emery screams at me. She knows that I’ve come to bring the sweet release of death. She’s still fighting.[/color] Others would have told me to kill them, or would’ve whined and whispered apologies. But Emery, even with her legs gone and her body weak, still fought back. She knocked the glaive from my hand and grabbed at my tunic. It was strange not having armor to protect me. The chill of the air creeps down my back and I gasp. I lock eyes with her and see all that I’ve never wanted to see: the fear, the desperation, the humanity of Emery Moreno.

“SHUT. UP!” I grab at her neck and shake her with all my might.

I’m shaking. She’s the only one that’s ever been able to push me over the edge, and I hate her for it. Her words are truer than she knows. I can see my mother and father, the ones that taught me to love the capitol and to cowtow to every rule (no matter what[/color]). Here and now I’m alive because I’d chosen to stay with my allies, and played the game just as everyone else before me had. Here I was thinking I was so clever.[/color] In reality it was all a farce. The only difference in these games is the level to which I’d taken my anger without having a reason.

“I’ve spent my whole life living for other people. Lived by my parent’s rules, by the capitol’s rules, by the rules of the game…” I grab back at Emery and sneer. My skin prickles as I hold her there, and feel the anger rising. Was she like me, was she? [/color]“Well I don’t care about anyone, Emery. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? That’s how you win. You have to do it alone, or else it eats your soul. I thought you fucking knew that!” The lies come out of my mouth as I stand, pushing her back. How did I let this girl get so under my skin? I move to wrap her hands in duct tape and keep her in place. “I’m everything without you. I am Iago Izar! I survived the Jabberwocky! I killed two tributes and survived a nightmare! And I’m going to go home, because I don’t need anyone to tell me who I am or what I care about it!”

[Iago attacks emery with unarmed]
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There’s weakness in those eyes. “SHUT. UP!” he screams, and I know I’ve hit the spot. If I’m too weak to hurt him with my fists, I can at least slap him hard with my words. “Well I don’t care about anyone, Emery. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? That’s how you win. You have to do it alone, or else it eats your soul. I thought you fucking knew that!”

I did know that; I still do. I was just hoping that Iago didn’t, merely putting my faith in the fact that he may just be as much of an idiot as I constantly deem him. But he’s obviously not the idiot here. If he was, he’d already have a crushed skull and a pair of lifeless eyes; but no – I’ll be the one with the lifeless eyes when the time comes, long before he is. I can’t let that happen, though. I can’t let him be the winner – the stronger of us two. Somehow, the thought of Iago living while I die is so terribly discomforting, because I know he’s getting some sort of satisfaction from this. He has to be. I would be, if I were the one standing over him right now. If he kills me, he isn’t just killing a tribute. He’s killing a Career: a girl trained since childhood to survive, arguably the most prepared and powerful person still alive in this arena. After I’d seen the power in Iago, I compromised with myself and labeled us almost as equals, but now…now we’re just…I’m just…

I struggle, scream, and do my best attempt to kick Iago as he ties my hands behind my back. I hope someone hears me; I hope little Lucy comes and stabs Iago in the back. At least then we’ll be going down together. I feel Iago’s warm breath on my face, and it causes the hair on my arms to stand because it’s just another piece of evidence, another sign that there’s a weakness in Iago. I wonder if the warmth in his breath is connected to a warmer part of his heart – a part I haven’t quite reached and crushed, but a part that I swear I will destroy before anyone destroys me. “I’m everything without you. I am Iago Izar! I survived the Jabberwocky! I killed two tributes and survived a nightmare! And I’m going to go home, because I don’t need anyone to tell me who I am or what I care about it!”

“If you don’t care about anyone, explain why you shoved your tongue into my mouth and kissed me! Explain why you carried me away from that fight when you could’ve just let Ewe make the last mark on me!” I try to pull myself off of the ground, but without my hands or feet available, I fall with each attempt. “How many times do I have to tell you? This is home. Whether you care or not, whether you win or lose, you’re stuck here forever, Iago Izar. So you know what? Kiss me again. Pretend like this is some bizarre fantasy, like we’re in love…” I nearly gag at the thought of his tongue in my mouth again. “…because I think you care about me, Iago Izar. I can't even stand on two feet, but you're still ten times weaker than me, and you'll figure that out once you kill me. You kill me, and I swear it'll fucking hurt.” I hope he’s distracted, confused, or maybe even entranced – I don’t know. However, I pull myself up on one knee, trying to stand up and reach his lips – anything to get him to let me survive. Anything.

Still, I fall back to the ground and onto my side again, my hands still tied behind my back while tears pour down my face. “Fucking kiss me, you idiot.” I don’t want to die. It’s not fair: it’s not at all fair that I’ve been dead for the majority of my life, convinced that feelings don’t exist. Now, here I am crying my eyes out as if I actually do have feelings, as if there are things on this planet I actually am afraid to leave, and yet I’m about to die all over again. My brother killed me once. And now Iago will too. Funny, huh? I always thought they were so dangerously similar, and yet I walked right into the trap. But I want to know how to live before I die.

“Just please…” I whisper between tears, unable to hide the weakness and the desperation in my voice. “Hurt me all you want, just…just don’t kill me." I pull my knees close to my chest as I lie helplessly on my side, staring at Iago's shoes. "I’d rather hurt…hurt forever than stop feeling again.”

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I a g o
I z a r – M c C l a i n e

•••

“If you don’t care about anyone, explain why you shoved your tongue into my mouth and kissed me?”

[/color]

“Because fuck you, that’s why!” I shout. Why did I need an answer for everything? Why did anyone have to know that in that moment, Emery had been the only one that had meant anything to me in the arena? It didn’t mean I loved her, because love is stupid and in the arena it was idiotic to think you could be in love with someone. How did anyone on the outside believe that any of us could have been in love, or known for one second what that was supposed to mean? We were wicked, damaged, and unlovable. Maybe the older boys and girls had wanted sex (gross[/color]), but there was no way any of them could have been in love. Not when you spend your nights shivering and praying to the stars to live. Not when your heart has to beat for just one, not two, lest it stop beating at all.

“This place isn’t my home—this place,” I start gritting my teeth. “It’s nothing but a bunch of idiot kids that were given knives that were too big for themselves. And we’ve put on a show for them, for everyone,” I wave my free arm to whoever might be watching. “But I’m not going to pretend like I can’t go home. Maybe you don’t have anyone that you love, Emery Moreno. But I’ve got a dog… cousins… a whole heap of stars that are watching after me. And fuck anyone for thinking they deserve to go home anyway.” I say as I hold onto her body. Why would I care what happened to her or anyone? I would never care about anyone but myself for as long as I lived.

“Hurt me all you want, just…just don’t kill me.”[/color] I never thought I’d hear Emery beg for anything. Just how much fight had all the others taken out of her? “I’d rather hurt…hurt forever than stop feeling again.”[/color] I stare at her. I watch the tears that come, and I grit my teeth again. They had taken everything from her, and left Emery like a wounded animal in front of me. What was I supposed to do, let her walk away to be slaughtered by the rest of them? Not that I felt like showing her any mercy now. Why was it my job to make sure that she got what she wanted, anyway?

“You’re a liar Emery.” I say, standing back and away from her. This whole time she’d said she hadn’t cared about living or dying. She’d pretended that she’d been fine with her life being snuffed out at a moment’s notice. But now that it was staring her in the face, she begged to live. If there was one thing I couldn’t take, especially from Emery, was lying. “You know what I do to liars. You should have known better.” I move toward her, picking up my glaive, ready to lay a final blow.

[Iago slashes at Emery with his Glaive]
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Iago picks up his glaive from the ground, ignoring my pleas. I always thought that maybe he saw something in me that other people didn’t see; maybe he saw something beautiful in the way I couldn’t keep my fists away, in the way that I didn’t live my life the way other people did. I thought that there was something worth preserving there, and I thought Iago knew that; but now he’s seeing the darkest side of me – the human part: the feelings, the emotions, the part of me that is just like every other tribute in this arena, like every other human being on this planet. I’ve seen pieces of his weakness too, but not like this.

I feel so exposed, lying here with my knees to my chest, watching as Iago moves closer and closer with his glaive. I have no defense now, with my arms tied behind my back. I’ve fought, tricked, lied, pleaded – I’ve done everything to get Iago to let me live and feel just a little longer, but he refuses to give in. It’s not fair – not fair that I should die here with my killer knowing my deepest secrets, my weaknesses, my insecurities, while I know almost nothing about him. I haven’t seen Iago Izar cry.

Still, there are a few things I know him, one being the fact that he won’t let me live, two being the fact that he takes some sort of pride in carrying out what he says, some sort of pride in not allowing himself to change his mind. And yet, he’s still as much of a liar as me, maybe even more. At least I’m being honest about my damn weaknesses. I’d like to see him tell me he cares about me. I’d like him to admit it, because I know that’s the only reason he’s killing me…so that he doesn’t have to feel anything.

I wait for the blow to come, gasping loudly and shutting my eyes tightly as the glaive enters my arm. After a few moments, I muster up enough courage to open them, my breath slowing as I stare furiously at Iago. “I’m…I’m the liar?” I ask, wishing I could stand, wishing I could punch him in the face over and over and over again. “You…you said you wouldn’t walk away, you fucking traitor.” I pull my knees closer, hoping he won't come anywhere near me. I don't want anyone anymore, not Iago, not Rolex, not anyone. I should have hurt them while I could. "But you're funny, Iago. Trying to kill someone who's already dead." I flash him a tiny smile. He's gonna hurt alright, and I'll make sure of it.

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I a g o
I z a r

•••

“I didn’t walk away…” I say. I wipe a hand under my nose and stare at the bloody mess before me. I was going to keep my promise, sure as I was honest. I wasn’t going to leave her, not until she closed her eyes and drifted off to wherever it was we went after death. Even though she ran red through from bones, even though she’d pushed me past the breaking point, it didn’t mean that I was going to leave her alone. That would be a fault worse than death. A little drop of rain hits my forehead and I know I’ll be dripping wet soon. She was already dead.

[/color]

Is that what she’d always believed? That there had never been a core to her planet? That she was bones, muscles, sinews, but no soul?[/color] From the moment that I had met her, I knew that this was untrue. There had been fire and there had been pain. A face full of honesty, one that could be trusted to say exactly what she meant and do exactly as she said. She had been my foil because—for as clever as I tried to be, as much as I tried to mask my motives—she called out what was real. I brought my knees to my chest as I lay near to her. As much as I wanted to believe that I had done what was right, I knew that I’d killed the one person left that hadn’t become a total monster.

“You…” I start, my voice now dry. Rain drips down my hair and into my face. “You know what death is, Emery?” I lean closer. All her words, everything she says about leaving me alone, about how I was a liar, about how she was dead—god, this was what it meant to learn the truth. Because everything I’d believed was just as silly and childish as I had thought. And it hurt so badly, it made it burn. “It’s being alone forever. It’s being in a black hole, with no one who loves you, without even a chance of that. Because there isn’t anything after this.”

“But I’ll stay right here, because I won’t let you die alone.” I say with a small smile. “So when you go away, at least there’s someone who can say what you look like when you moved on.”
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“You know what death is, Emery?” Iago whispers as he leans over me – but I can't think about his words. All I can think about is my breath: in and out, in and out. Keep going, Emery. Keep breathing. Don’t let Iago distract you. He’s just trying to kill you. You know, most people want their death to be fast and quick – completely motionless – but I hope my death is slow. I’d rather it hurt; I’d rather feel and know everything before I die, however terrible it is, then die instantaneously without a thought in my mind. Peace is overrated; it’s all just lies. And I don’t want to die in a lie. All this make pretend that I’ve been talking about – I…I won’t let my death be another figure of make pretend too.

“It’s being alone forever,” he says, but I shake my head. He’s only inches from me now with his warm breath on my face again, but it doesn’t feel right. I want him to be miles away – somewhere where he can’t hurt me, but I can still hurt him. Once I close my eyes, I’ll be able to hurt him all I want. He can live his life pretending like he feels nothing, like this was all just something so terribly insignificant, but someday it’ll come back to bite him. Someday, he’ll want to hurt. He’ll want it so badly, he’ll tell himself that I did something. And when that day comes, I’ll give him what he wants. I’ll let him hurt.

“Then I must have been dead my whole life,” I whisper in fury, the tears having ceased. “I’m not...I'm not going to die in some stupid lie, Iago. My parents told me they loved me the day I was reaped, but I knew they’d never love me as more than an object, a trophy, a winner." I pause to take a breath, but it's becoming more and more difficult every second. "And Rolex – he...he can tell me he loves me all he wants, but I know he doesn’t love me for the monster I am. And you…well I don’t even know what your fucking problem is, but I’m not going to die here and pretend like I do.”

A sob escapes my lips again, weakness tearing me apart at the seams. “If you're not going to get away from me, at least get this damn tape off my hands.”

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I a g o
I z a r

•••

My glaive slices through the tape and I sit back. There’s no fight left in her, and no danger here. Only sadness.

[/color] I want to say something when she mentions her parents, but only a sigh escapes from my lips. We were the condemned, it seemed. A lost girl that was only going to be remembered had she chopped her way to a crown; me, a boy that was dead as soon as I’d ‘done the right thing’ and stepped in to save my whimpering cousin. If I came back with a crown, I imagine my parents would be singing a different tune, celebrating the boy that had always made the right choices and always stood up for what was right. So few had ever told me the truth and let me be me. I stare at Emery as she starts to cry, and I move to wipe underneath my nose again.

“That’s why I…” I start, but my voice falters. It was stupid to think the two of us had been anything but companions. A friend was not the term you used after just stabbing someone to death. Not unless you were an absolute fool. What was I supposed to say? For once I’m out of answers. I let out another sigh and put my thumb and index finger against the bridge of my nose. “I kept you around, I… we got so far, together, Emery.” That word. It stings as I say it, but I know I have to be true. There was no way I would have been sitting here without her. Words for answers don’t come, and my hand shakes as I clench my eyes shut.

“You’re just the biggest fucking bitch I ever met, Emery,” I whisper out. I wanted to find anger, somewhere, somehow, but nothing was coming. What was happening to me now?[/color] I had left Ewe for dead just a few days ago, I’d killed Cassie, and I’d shrugged off Scout’s death as though it were nothing. But now I felt as though a thousand pounds was coming down on top of me, ready to hold me down and force me to sleep forever. That was all I wanted now, was to close my eyes and rest, and to tuck into a corner where I couldn’t be found.

“Just don’t tell me you’re fucking sorry… because I’m not sorry…” I whisper again. I pull my hand away from my eyes, but try to wipe them quickly with the back of my hand. She wasn’t allowed to see how weak I was. I owed her enough to see that her killer was less than human. Wasn’t I? [/color]“Because it had to be one of us. And I wasn’t going to let it be me.”
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“You’re just the biggest fucking bitch I ever met, Emery.” It’s obvious that he’s at a loss for words; it’s so terribly evident that I’ve won this spoken battle, even if I am the one dying. And I will win many times more, I swear it. Iago won’t just forget me. He won’t win and live his empty little life with no care in his mind. I will haunt his thoughts each and every hour until the day he dies. I’ll make sure he lives; I’ll make sure he hurts and hurts and never stops hurting. “Just don’t tell me you’re fucking sorry… because I’m not sorry…” he says. What do I have to be sorry for? I never pretended to care about people, and then left them to fucking die. Honest Iago: there’s a liar in that boy. “Because it had to be one of us. And I wasn’t going to let it be me.” We could’ve gone further; we could have lived until the end and I…I could be the one in Iago’s shoes.

Iago cuts the tape between my hands, and I quickly hold them to my heart to make sure it’s still beating. I want to punch Iago in the face, but I know that won’t hurt him; it won’t make me any more of a winner. Instead, I pull the elastic band off my wrist. “Maybe you’re not sorry now,” I say. “But you will be, Iago.” I scoot a little closer to him and grab his wrist with the little energy I have, leaning against his body while I put the elastic band on him as if it’s a pair of handcuffs that will bind him to a terrible fate. “This...this used to be a candy bracelet. It used to be a joke…for all those kids bringing lockets...and treasures as their tokens…those kids who…who think it will reconnect them with their families and you with your stupid star necklace," I snicker, but the laugh is interrupting by a painful wince as I accidentally move my injured arm.

"But now it’s nothing. Candy’s gone. It’s just an elastic band.” I think back to the moment when I chewed that last piece and knew – and knew that this wasn’t a joke anymore, knew that I was going to die either way, that there was no way out of this, no way to beat the Capitol idiots who put me here, win or lose. “I dare you to never take it off. I dare you to look at it and see nothing…I dare you to pretend that I’m just as much nothing as this stupid piece of elastic…that this whole fucking place means nothing…that it will never mean anything.” My speech is weak with my slowed breathing, but I’ve managed to keep the tears off of my face. “But I can bet you that at some point, you’ll want to stop feeling nothing…at some point...it'll be too painful not to hurt." I put my hand back on his wrist. "And when that happens, all you have to do is snap this little elastic band against your wrist." I pull the band towards me, as far as it reaches, let go, and then suddenly...snap!

"You feel that?" I ask him, a smirk across my face. "It hurts." I keep my hand there, on his wrist, a shiver running down my spine as I try to catch my breath. Thinking about anything but my breath is becoming more and more difficult. "So I hope you learn how to fucking love the pain. I hope it helps you remember me, because...because I might not be here to punch you in the face but...but I'm still stronger than you, Iago Izar." I shiver, small gasps escaping my mouth as I move away from Iago. I won't die in his fucking arms. He doesn't get that satisfaction. I'm not his. I'm not anyone's. "You can't control me, you can't...they can't control me...my brother, he can't...make them hurt, Iago: Aaron and Rolex and my parents and...and Opal and Ewe and..." I put my hand to the huge gash on my arm, but I'm at the point where I can't feel anything anymore and I know the time is near. In and out, in and out. There's not another thought in my brain but in and out in and out in and out and I wish the thoughts could hurt me, but they don't.

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I a g o
I z a r

•••

“Maybe you’re not sorry now, but you will be, Iago.”

[/color] She gets out, and I feel a shiver run up my spine. What was I supposed to have done? There were five of us left, then four—just a few more and I’d be the one that could put all this behind me. I can feel the pain dig into my own skin though, just looking at the wounds on her legs and arm. The dirt and grim that’s collected over the both of us, reminds me of the fields back in eleven. It’s as though we’ve just rolled around, wrestling in the mud and now—I blink, staring at Emery, my eyes cloudy.[/color] The rain drips down my cheeks, and splashes onto the ground. She leans closer, stripping off the little band on her wrist and giving it to me.

She explains the world as she sees it, the band her token and now—just like her, has whittled down to nothing. The two of us in the rain, her bleeding out from her wounds, and me, taking the last parts of her to have and to hold. Even her token had been a joke, as though she wanted to spit in the face of everyone she possibly could have. I admire her even now, defiant to the last. I bring my forearm up to my nose and choke back a sound. She continues on, beating back what must have been death with only her words. For the briefest of moments I hope her heart doesn’t give, that it keeps beating because I have to know and have to hurt, what she wants me to do with this.

“You feel that?"[/color] She says, plucking the thin white strand against my wrist. I feel the pinch and look up at her. “It hurts.”[/color] I wonder now what all the talk of pain was. She’d seemed to relish feeling anything at all, as though her whole life had been devoid of knowing. I can’t say that I’ve ever truly been happy, at least, not happy with myself. When did it become something I had to learn so quickly, before my eyes closed as well? I rub my face into my forearm again. She’s more of a victor than I am. None of us have been able to control her, no matter how hard we tried. And now she even had the last laugh on me, hurting me before death. Abandoning me forever.[/color]

“You’re never going to be very far from me,” I say. I pluck the cord against my wrist and close my eyes. “Emery.” The whole world seems quiet now, as we wait for this to be over. There should be more words from my mouth. More anger to spit into her face and to work her into a feared frenzy before death. Or I should tell her that I won’t forget her, that I can take back my words about loneliness in death. But I don’t speak. I don’t want to ruin the simplicity of this end with foolish words or a trite aphorism. Instead, I move to brush away a strand of hair that’s fallen into her face. I sit quietly, waiting for what can come, what should come, and what will be. [/blockquote][/size][/justify][/color]

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I feel it in my skin, I feel it through my bones
Your fingertips are falling far from where I know
I try to pin you down but you move like a dream
I want to find you but you dropped me in the sea

Emery Moreno did not approve of others narrating her life, but she was tired – tired of looking aimlessly at the world around her and trying to distinguish between pools of blood and rays of sunshine. She had been clutching dignity in the palm of her left hand since before she knew the meaning of the word, while her right was reserved to transcribe the life she saw in her head. But somewhere along the way, it seems that tragedy had slipped his way into the ink of her pen, leaving her with splattered stories across torn pages – stories created by someone else. Now, these stories were no longer hers to tell. They never were. Fifteen years she spent with her ever ongoing script held to her emptied chest, miles away from the viciously intrusive hands of her parents and her siblings, and yet it seems there was always a simple-minded someone standing there, dictating the words that went onto the page and clouding the dark-haired girl’s ambitious fantasy.

She didn’t know who was drawing thoughts from her head, eagerly crafting them into words, and then stringing those words into a story told by the wrong author, but she didn’t like it. Her mind was but a graveyard of broken thoughts, torn by the same hands that were now clawing for life. Those hands had once sent a curly-haired girl to her death with a heavy punch, left another girl to dance in flames, even tied the knots around the wrecking ball that had left one less shadow walking through the brutal daylight of the arena; those hands were once strong – callused and cut and worn and so very strong – but now she stared at her scarred hands not in utter victory, but in shame. These fingers were the same ones she found clamped around the hilt of her sword, crying for life as she lunged forward like a coward in a successful attempt to kill Jim. And here that weak-handed little coward lay, pleading for her life as if she actually cared.

Emery Moreno was afraid; she was afraid that whoever was narrating the ending of her story would leave out a word or misinterpret a phrase of her own muddled thought. Thoughts: goodness, it had been such a long time since free thinking had meant so much to her, and now that the thoughts were finally there – living, breathing, trying to find an escape route out of her head in the form of a word or an action or anything – they were no longer hers to keep. Never were. Never will be.

In a few days, the games recap would be displayed on every television across the nation. At some point during that thirty minute timespan, Emery Moreno’s picture would flash across the screen with the name, “Hope,” second on her list of kills. Even through all the lies the Capitol littered across the media, it would be one certain truth. She’d lost all hope in that fire, all hope of being anything more than just the shell of a girl with a hard fist. She’d killed a Shadow too, hadn’t she? And yet she still couldn’t amount to anything more than just the shadow of her family name, of her brother’s name, of Iago’s name. She hadn’t killed him, no, because there were certainly shadows circling through her emptied head, through her nerves and into the very cores of her senses – mere empty shadows of the feelings that real human beings felt.

The one thing you need to know about Emery Moreno is that she was a murderer long before she first killed a human being. Although she’d had parents and trainers walking running pushing her through the art of murder since the day she strolled into the extravagant Moreno household, she’d killed enough thoughts in her head that if she stacked them all one upon another row by row, she could build a full army of soldiers, dead thoughts glued together by the traces of blood that had never left her hands. In that case, she’d killed billions, really; and she had never needed her parents or trainers to teach her that kind of murder – the kind of murder that depended solely upon suppressing her emotions and exiling them from the large nation of her brain that was hers and hers only.

However, the war in Emery’s head was not over; would it ever be? – “Victory is only an illusion of fools, Emery,” her brother spat. – because now there were thoughts crawling from their graves, their tiny hands clawing their way through the dirt: emotions she’d buried, sentiments she thought she’d killed – ”Did I ever tell you you were amazing today, Emery? Every day,” Rolex said with his arms around the dark-haired girl. Her heart was nearly beating – it wanted to, so close, pushing pushing pushing against her chest. “Kiss me,” she whispered, hoping it might spark the feelings that she so desperately wanted to feel. “Fucking kiss me, you idiot.” The two clashing echoes resonated through her mind, two pleads for feeling that were ready to fight again. There was something so weak inside Emery Moreno – was weak the right word? Because even she wished that she could love as easily as Cinderella had and still come out alive and breathing.

The lonely girl could hear Rolex in her head, assuring her that she wasn’t a monster, telling her he loved her and he would always love her, flooding tears of sorrow and loss as he watched her helplessly on the other side of the television. She could hear his pained cries and his weak voice; she could see bloodied hands as he tore through his frustration and his shame and oh, Emery couldn’t be that person. She was too afraid to be that person – the person that lets love leave scars on their heart like the scars on Emery Moreno’s hands, except much bigger and much more fatal to the mind.

Nonetheless, there was nothing more to fear than the inevitable darkness of death now. Or maybe it wasn’t dark. Maybe death was blindingly bright, so much that she wouldn’t be able to find Iago when it was his turn; maybe he had been right to say that death was just a barren land of loneliness. Either way, Emery had about two minutes to be fearless before it would be time for her to die again, except this time she wouldn’t be accredited for murdering her thoughts; Iago would. She brought a shaking hand to her shoulders and undid her armored vest, feeling weightless when it was finally off. She then reached to her greatest extent, despite the pain in her arm, to undo her single shin guard. Lastly, she hurled her gloves to the left and returned to her more comfortable position.

She didn’t plan to die with armor on her back, coating her with a false sense of strength and some stupid Moreno pride. She was instead giving Iago all of her weaknesses, right there and then, as she lay hopeless and helpless on the ground, both tear-stained and blood-stained. Why, you ask? Why would the scowl-faced girl with fiery fists ever give away her secrets? Because she knew her fragile heart could do so much more harm than the metal barrier she kept around it. She could throw her fists as long and hard as she wanted, but she knew that Rolex was pacing in front of his television, hurting many times more than any tribute Emery had ever touched. All because she’d almost loved him. Almost.

So when Iago’s hand came down to her face to brush away a strand of her hair, she immediately brought her hand to his, her first instinct being to push him away. However, she had neither the strength nor the kindness to do so, her fingers instead falling into his. She didn’t need a knife to draw scars across his hands. She could already see them forming, the perfect recipe for a future of pain. However, for a moment she managed to put aside the fact that she hated Iago Izar – (did she?) – Because in that split second, she wasn’t clutching his hand to bring him hurt but to express the fact that she…she…loved him? Was that the right word? She squeezed his hand harder, her breaths becoming heavier. He’d saved her from dying at the feeble hands of Saffron, Lucy, or Ewe; he’d saved her from giving her secrets to someone who obviously didn’t deserve them. Emery had spent her entire life walking the stone path her brother had paved for her, her parents had paved for her – god, she’d spent so long trying to escape – and now it was time to sit in the shadow of Iago Izar. At least it was a big shadow with enough space to move around – bigger than Lucy’s at least.

Emery Moreno was dying, but she wasn’t ready. This drumming sound in her chest was so new, but it was bleeding out fast with the red fluid that came from every inch of her body. She quickly grasped the lovely drumming sound and poured it upwards, into her thoughts. She wanted to love Iago and she wanted to love Rolex; even Darren Dublin -- she wanted to love him too. She’d wasted so much time protecting a heart whose beating had yet to start and by now, it was too late to learn how to use it.

Emery clutched Iago Izar’s hand harder. She couldn’t figure out where she was anymore, all sense of organization lost in her disoriented thoughts. She knew not of where to find the ending or the beginning or the middle, but she knew they all existed in some imperfect harmony. She also knew that she was already dead and there was a stranger in her head, telling her story much out of order. They must have forgotten to label the page numbers, because she was sure that her life was supposed to start at the beginning of her story, not the ending. And this was most definitely the beginning.

“No, I don’t…” she struggled to express her deteriorating thoughts, trying to pull herself closer to Iago – to anyone. “I don’t want to…” She squeezed his hand harder, gasping for breaths. The elated feeling in her head, the thoughts, the fear – they were all escaping her. The screams from both her mouth and her chest gradually turned to whispers, and there ended the story of a girl whose heart stopped beating only moments after it started.

“Tough luck,” she whispered almost silently into the strands of grass at her cheek.

But the canon heard, and responded with a mocking echo of the drum inside her chest.

No no don't rescue me
I like the salt water sting
It feels so good to feel
It feels so good just to feel something
In the sea in the sea in the sea in the sea

Well, these games were definitely an amazing in-character experience. I’m really glad I had the chance to develop Emery, and so glad I got to roleplay with such wonderful writers. However, there were quite a few days when I was just about ready to quit the games, so I really just hope that next games everyone has a lot less trouble distinguishing the line between in-character and out-of-character.

I alphabetized my thank-you's, see?

Cait – Cait. Cait. Cait. My goodness, you’re amazing. Thank you so much for helping me out and letting me rant about stuff and talk about stuff and eeee. Although my confidence was sometimes a little torn every time someone said "oh yeah Emery really just needs to die already" or something stupid like that, you totally brought my confidence back up and I have to thank you so much for that. Also, I probably wouldn't have written/finished this dp had you not helped keep my on track, lol.
Cameo, Rook, Semper, Cato – I honestly loved all four of your characters, and I felt bad when Emery killed them. Thank you for not hating me for it! And Cato, I don't know what I would have done without your optimism these games.
Cass ‘n’ Kiah – Thank you guys for distracting me with your lovely video messages when I needed to further procrastinate my Emery posting. I love you two <3
Geebs – Thank you for tribsitting Emery in the bloodbath!
Kire – Ahh Kire, I still remember a year and a half ago when we started our first Romry thread. I’m so sad that they had to end but we’ll be startin’ some new stuff, right? Yes? K? but I still love Romry and thank you so much for our threads because Emery would not be as great as she is if it weren’t for you and Rolex <333
Kitty – Kitty, darling, you’re honestly like the coolest person ever. I still remember when Darren died and you were like, “Okay, time to go watch my show now!” or something and just… can I please have your beautiful optimism? Keep being positive; it’s great <3
Lulu – Thanks for conducting the games!
People who said something nice about Emery or Emery posts – um I hope you guys all know that every positive comment I ever got about Emery like, made my life and went the world to me and okay, if you read an Emery post in the first place, I love you.
Rosetta – I’m really happy we got to be in an alliance. You’re a wonderful writer, you're hilarious, Scout was lovely, and I hope that we’ll get to write again in the future.
Sam – Thank you for supporting and reading and yay, you're great!
Shine – Talking to you in the beginning of the games was awesome and to be honest, Sticky was definitely one of my favorites. You’re so positive and optimistic and it’s really great, so thanks for that ^^
Shrimp – I’m so glad you’d asked me to be part of your alliance and I really enjoyed being in id while it lasted. I was just thinking back to the size up day up thing and laughing. Ewe was excellent. I hope things didn't end on a bad note, and I really hope that we can thread again in the future.
Thundy – Thank you for the wonderful Moreno plot; without it, I would have no Emery!
Tribute owners -- Thank you guys so much. So much amazing writing these games.
Zori – Thanks for listening and helping and gosh, I honestly have so much to thank you for these games. You really helped me through all the times I was kind of just ready to quit on Emery, and I have to thank you for that and etc etc etc emigo forevahh <3

Um, I know I'm probably forgetting people, but um, ahhh thank you all, honestly. Even if I didn't mention you here, you probably mean a whole lot to me and eep, yes, okay.

And lastly, thank you to everyone who read this death post because it honestly means the world to me that you took time out of your day to do so! You guys are great! <33

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