The Bloodbath: Part II [3pm EST]

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

( brooke destin, d4f ⦁ introduction )

"I was half wolf when you found me. I was all wind when you left."

She runs her fingers through her hair with a sigh that is caught somewhere between anxious and longing, looking into the mirror across from her and tilting her head. After the short trip aboard the hovercraft that morning, she was ushered into her holding room and left to prepare herself. Her outfit had been folded neatly on one of the tables. A farewell letter from Harlem rested near the fabrics, slightly open in an invitation to have its contents read.

As much as she had hoped for it, she couldn’t fault him for not being here to see her off — with so many tributes from Four to style, there would have been no way for him to juggle giving each of them an individual goodbye. Not that she wouldn’t understand, even if he could manage it. No one wants to look at the lambs that are being lead to the slaughter; red ribbons tied around their throats in foreshadowing of what is to come.

It’s always better to just send flowers to the funeral of those who have passed, Brooke has since realized with age. Looking at painted corpses doesn’t do anything to help wounds heal.

Her hands run across the white silk of her dressing gown, enjoying the feeling of it against her freckled skin. She fidgets with the ribbon around her waist, making sure that it’s knotted tightly and at no risk of slipping off of her shoulders. Her feet and legs are unclothed, with nothing but gold undergarments to accompany her robe. The cat ears pinned atop her ginger curls are a mix of smooth silver and golden accents, and when she picks up the large fan that brings her uniform together, she’s not able to resist the urge to give it a wave and flutter behind it. She laughs at the sight, trying not to think of what’s slowly approaching. In this moment, she’s nothing more than a girl who’s playing dress-up. She gives her reflection another glance, tucking away a stray strand of red behind her ear.

She bites her lip and turns away. She thought that confronting Cricket would bring her peace, and while she doesn't regret their conversation, there’s still something missing inside of her. She had wanted Cricket to take away how lost she felt. The victor was supposed to justify River’s death and ease Brooke’s pain, but she feels as if she’s only been numbed. She took a chance and she sacrificed herself to understand why she had to lose everything; and now she wonders if her parents are ashamed. Surely they had wanted more for their daughter.

When her name is called and the tube in the center of her quarters slides open, she feels something drop into her stomach. A weight has been lifted off of her shoulders, an understanding that Cricket truly had no reason to put her own life aside for River’s, but now there’s something new wrapping its hands around Brooke’s throat. She sold her soul to know what she had been searching for all of her life — and now the sirens need her to walk through hell as payment.

She enters the chamber, drawing in a nervous breath as the glass container closes itself around her. She shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other, looking around the space and fiddling with her dress. She wonders if she’s made a mistake; if trying to avenge her mother had been a foolish want. She tries to steel herself against that regret. This has to mean something.

River’s death meant something; Fledger’s death meant something; the Libertine girls’ deaths meant something — and hers will, too. She’ll make sure of it. She closes her eyes with a nod, inhaling to calm herself, and she waits for the area above her head to split open and for her to make her rise into the arena. Seconds pass; one to five to ten. She exhales in anticipation.

Then the metal beneath her feet flies apart, and she lets out a squeal as she starts to fall. The air is flung from her lungs and lodged inside of her throat, her arms flailing and her gown whipping around her. There’s nothing but blue to be seen, with white clouds staining her vision, and it’s hard to cope with the fact that your death will be instant. She waits for it to be over; to crash into the earth and break into shards of a girl who wanted too much.

She tries to gasp, but she can’t. She can’t even hold her eyes open, trying to fight with the wind blowing in her face, but before she can hit the ground, the rush suddenly stops. She’s floating. She catches her breath, chest stinging, and then she realizes that she’s hanging upside down. She looks up, noticing that her foot is caught between the teeth of a massive beast, and she swallows hard. She waits for it to engulf her, to spread its jaws and take her whole, but it only swims through the air at a calm pace. The creature is too much for a girl from Four to understand, so she just accepts it. The whale of black and white guides her to a rooftop, placing her down on a chimney and letting loose a song before it flies away.

She makes her way to her feet and steadies herself, a hand clutching at her chest as she pants, and she’s had her fair share of flying. She had always wondered what it would be like to soar, but now she knows. She’ll always be content with walking from this point on. She looks around, noticing a select few faces, but there are some who are missing. Maybe they’re still falling, or maybe the fifty tributes were just an illusion. Maybe none of them are real. She clutches at her face, rocking back and forth on her heels and trying to get herself ready for the war ahead, listening as the timer starts to count down. She can handle falling; she could handle being eaten alive.

She wonders if she can handle killing. She doesn’t want to see anyone suffer.

The gong sounds, and then she runs.

She won’t lose herself today.

[brooke enters the bloodbath]

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

[ saummerand demheaux, intro ]
People normally rose into the arena. It was a symbol in some minds, rising to the occasion in which you decide your fate. Do you run, do you fight? Stand there and just wait for someone to end it for you, because why the hell should ya even try? You’ll die eventually, so just let them do the hard work for you. You could fight people just for the hell of it; be that one kid who would literally hit anything and everything

--(I’m looking at you, Diorite.)

That’s enough of the norms, per say, because I could really just spend as long as I want to on a bunch of damn norms to find in the arena. That’s not what we really want to do; because the way this entire shenanigan started off was not normal at all.

Have you ever wanted to fly? I had the thought that I would’ve liked to when I was young. Who wouldn’t like to fly? You could travel anywhere from the highlands to the lowlands as if you were controlling the ups and downs of life, playing God, per say. If you wanted to fly, great. Should’ve volunteered because you missed your opportunity to do so, because the tributes of the 75th Hunger Games were not rising into the arena, no; that was too normal.

They were falling, taking the phrase ‘plummeting to your death’ to a whole new level. But then we got swooped up, carried by the arms - (mouths?) of a school of fish. It was a funny feeling, the wind flailing the fur coat around, and being carried by tons of fish. You’d never expect to fly by a group of fish - hell, who knew that fish could even FLY?

They carried everyone down, thank god nobody was below to look up at me (they don’t need horrified just yet). We were on a chimney, one for each person. I guess the others have some sort of bloodbath elsewhere; great, two funeral home charities.
Here’s to hoping I’m not one of the donations, because the gong rang faster than I could process it.

[saummerand enters the bloodbath]

[Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom]]

[Riordan Einfallen D6M | Intro]

Dread.


The emotion that he had ended up with when he woke up from his slumber. Cold sheets and head aching memories of the night before, where things seemed to become a blissful life. For only one night, he felt alive. He felt something more than just dread and heartbrokenness, but either way it would come back sometime soon. Silence fills the room as he feels himself drowning under the world that Diorite and him had spoken off. Her words still on the tip of his ears like a faint echo everywhere he goes.

You are not alone.

If anything, Diorite was right about the world. They’ll never get what they want in the end. Riordan Einfallen was a believer in the words that spout from Diorite’s lips. Dreams were only dreams, even if we tried to make them reality, it never truly turned out how we want it. That’s how he was feeling waking up to no one in his bed. Not even Zanita wanted to stay with him. Memories of a nice time with someone who made him forget everything, but that’s all it was. Sex and broken hearts of the past mixing together. As he sits up, eyes at the window, staring at the sky and the city around, his heart beats softly. There is no happiness in this. There are no sorrows. There is nothing more than just determination to give it his all, until his very last breath of life.

A seven is what he had received from his performance, pitiful if someone had asked him. Wanting something higher was normal for anyone, tribute or not. He put his heart and soul into the flaming performance. A sigh escapes his throat as he pulls his clothes on and walks into the hall, hoping to avoid the Eckharts and Ingran on the District Six floor. Outside. It’s what he needed before it was time for him to go to Skye and have her suit him up with the arena’s outfit.

The city was beautiful in the morning, just like it was as night. The city lights were gone and replaced with a shining of light off the windows of buildings. Beauty of it’s own creation. If he could sit up there for days, he would. Time was running out. It always was running out for him. It ran out when they all died. Every single person he’s known lying in a grave back in District Six. Soon, he would join them in their stone markers and wooden boxes as they join together, rotting in the dirt. The place where he belongs with them. Tempus Opera House’s doors closed and filled with dust of a past memory of happiness. Only for some sucker to tear it down or reopen it’s doors.

As the sun begins to shine more and more in the sky, the minutes grow shorter and shorter, until he’s heading back down to where he’s supposed to meet Skye. Halls of memories that he would soon wish to go back to before all hell broke loose. Brooke braiding flowers into his hair. Zanita and his complicated encounters that led to getting laid the night before bloodbath. Ivar looking gorgeous, even when making a mess in the dining hall. Scarlett’s lips plastered to his for what felt like forever. Atlas and his dumb face as he punched the Lumiere in the face to end up with a black eye of his own. Skye was furious with him when she found out about it. And that’s how he was greeted with her impatiently tapping a foot.

”We have so much to do Riordan! Did you have to take your time!”

A sigh as his head begins to pound in a headache. Skye wasn’t exactly someone he liked to see. She had this tone that always made his head hurt. Style was her skill, but arguably, he would say she wasn’t very good at her job. An atrocious monster in heels that clicked on the floor as she sat him down in a chair, where she combed his hair into something less messy. As soon as he saw the outfit though, he complained. Eyes rolling in annoyance as he sighs in disappointment once again.

”I am not wearing that.”

”Suck it up buttercup. It’s this or you go nude.”

A groan falls from his lips as he throws on the atrocities that were pink and too crazy for him. A light pink cashmere turtleneck that was quite comfy if he was honest, but a fashion fail. Oh how he missed his jacket at home. A pink thong that Skye told him was once a blouse, but she repurposed for underwear of some sort. He thinks of asking her why it couldn’t have just been boxers, but decides against it when she happily hums to herself. Jean shorts that deserved to be burned in a fire with the thong that felt annoying against his skin. Boots with spurs that seemed sharper than he expected and quite heavy. A tote bag with the arena of Jequirity’s games handed to him as he hides his eyes from seeing it.

He was fine, until the snapback was placed on his head. Colors of all sorts depicting a scene that makes his throat tighten in fear of tears. Jequirity Eckhart was laying on the ground, dead. Eyes gone empty as Daria Staite stands over her. The harp playing in the background as tears fill his eyes. Skye watches him with curiosity, until she clasps her hands together, tying a pink bowtie to his next. Hands wipe the tears away as he stands up and speaks.

”Is there enough pink on me yet?”

A chuckle is all he gets before he is shoved off into the place where he’ll be leaving from. As he stands on the plate that time and time again rose from the ground up to an area, it opens up. Eyes look downwards as the surprise of the sudden fall pumps blood through his body. He wasn’t the only one falling. Others were falling around him. He could see others and that’s when the flying creatures one by one grab them. Brooke is somewhere in the mess of tributes. He can see her as they fall. Terror sets in his bones, until the fishlike floating creatures grab the back of his sweater. The pink cashmere holding him as he grips it with his life. A fall like that would kill him. Even if he wanted to die, this was not the way he wanted to go out.

The alligator fish like creatures terrify him. Teeth sharp like many of the mutts that he’s seen, but they look harmless for now. Trust was something that the capitol destroyed with the games. He didn’t trust anything that had teeth like the creatures. Once he was set onto a chimney of sorts, hands brushing the cashmere down as his heart slows. Mind concentrating on what was around him. And for a second, he wishes he didn’t look.

The roof that they were on didn’t look as stable as he had hoped it would be. A quick mental note to remind himself of this as he looks at the other tributes nearby. Thoughts of Anarchy piling up in his mind as he wishes to see the girl who was probably happy with the sudden drop. Curiosity and intelligence in everything that she does. He’s learned more about her than he would care to admit, but to no avail, she was nowhere in sight.

Ivar Hammerfell on the other hand was. A skirt is what Riordan notices first about the man. A chuckle pulls from his lips. That was until he stared back forward as a timer counted down reminding him to prepare for the fist fight that was going to occur when they rush for items. Nervousness fills his body as the clock gets closer and closer to the start of his final performance. A breath of air escapes his lungs until mayhem begins.

The show must go on.

Let it burn.

Run.

(Riordan Einfallen enters Bloodbath.)

[Salome Izar D11F {tribsit}]

[Salome | Intro Post | Attack NA]

You suppose the gamemakers must have a strange sense of humor. The stylists have been poking and prodding every inch of your skin to make sure that you’re snug in the clothing they’ve been given. You don’t mind the color—silver shoes finer than you’ve ever had, or the gold speedo they hand over to you to cover up what shouldn’t be seen. This is the first hint you’ve had about the world you’re about to enter, and your stomach rattles. Breakfast had been silent and try as you might, you couldn’t get much more than oatmeal and piece of fruit down. You suppose you like the corset—staring in the mirror, you marvel at how it shows off your body. Sexy was never a word you used; homespun dresses and hours spent with cousins left out a part of your life the others seemed to have experienced.

When the time comes you enter into the holding chamber, and give one last look. You try to hold onto your abuela’s necklace, and it gets tangled in your hands. Though you’re wearing so little you itch, and feel the heat on your cheeks. The buzzer sounds and you hear the tube whir into motion. From what you had heard, the thing would lift you up into the waiting arena, where you’d have just moments before the whole world fell apart. Of course—there are many surprises in store for you child. There is no pedestal lifting you higher and higher. Rather, the ground beneath your feet clicks, and the earth opens. Down you go, eyes wide, disappearing into a ray of light.



You scream.



Your voice cracks as you let out a shriek. Hurtling downward—how it would be possible you’ll never know—but the world waiting for you is blue and bright and endless. You scream so long that you run out of breath, only to start screaming again. It’s then you see the others—tumbling too and fro just as you, with creatures slipping over and under them. A multilimbed beast has a girl by the face; fluorescent fish zoom by to grab another. You tumble, wondering if you are supposed to know how to land on your own. You close your eyes, and pray. There is no beginning or end, only now, only here—but how you wish that you wouldn’t end in such a way.



You feel the slick gooey brush of an animal, followed by another. You open your eyes and spy the slimy nose of a waiting pink blobfish. Not that you have ever known such a beast, with a nose that could rival any Izar’s and a color not unlike the chewing gum they had in the capitol. This creature is no foe, either. Two of them gently glide at your sides, halting your freefall. Though they leave you covered in slime and make belching noises with ever swish of their tails, you go from feeling as though your heart will burst from your chest to oddly calm. With relative ease, they float you down to a waiting chimney, and pause. You place a hand on the cheek of one and give a smile before it dashes away.



There are only half around you. Counting those that circle on the rooftop, there are not the fifty some tributes that you started with. You wonder if this was some sort of test—that perhaps the other half truly did fall to their doom. You take a breath, and realize that neither Molly nor Gentian are in this circle. All alone. Wasn’t that how all of this started? You will face the others with just the same strength as when you decided to represent the whole of your district. And you wonder now if there is some courage still left in you, because you can feel that your stomach does not believe what is in your heart. The clock ticks down, and you feel the bile rise in the back of your throat.



As the buzzer sounds, you let loose the contents of your breakfast over the side of your chimney.



[Salome Izar enters the bloodbath]

[rook]

Jano Karmichael, Intro

jano karmichael

i would fight a thousand fights
lose my eyesight
take a life
i'd kill a man
just to hold your hand

I thought I had cleared myself of it, accepted my fate and realised my purpose here, but there it is, dripping down my chest like a hot, sticky tar. Dread finds me again, it's tendrils wrapping around my throat, restricting my breathing. It drills into my chest, pours inside me and makes me feel a ton heavier. I struggle to walk, my steps are dragged, but a firm hand shoved me in the back, and I'm sleepwalking towards my demise.

The wrought-iron door slams behind me, enclosing me in the small room where I will spend my last few minutes alone. I stare at the tube that will push me upwards to my fate. It's like being on death row, staring at the electric chair. If there is some greater power, he would whisper in my ear you chose this, and I would be wrong to argue. This is entirely my own doing, and I have to do what I volunteered to do; protect Castor.

I am dressed in an emerald suit, more immaculate than the formal attire that was selected for my interview with Ceasar Flickerman.

"Why did you volunteer, Jano?"
"I didn't have a choice."

It makes me wonder how the arena will be painted if we are dressed so elegantly for our deaths. Is it going to be some bloodstained ballroom, or a casino where we roll dice for our lives? One can only imagine, this is a Quarter Quell, after all.

The alarm screams, and the pod door slides aside, inviting me in. There it is again, dread, stabbing me in the chest before anyone else can. I take steady steps towards the glass tube, leaning my weight on it as I muster up whatever courage I can to step inside. The millisecond that I am inside, the door slides shut promptly, and then it feels like the ground gives way beneath me.

Because it does.

And I am falling.

The world explodes into an ocean of colour, and I drown in the enormity of it as I hurtle towards the ground at a thousand miles an hour. What the fuck? What the fuck is going on? Shit. I realise I am going to hit the ground and paint the floor red with my insides.

It takes me a few seconds to realise the other 50-odd bodies also spiralling to the ground, and I realise that this is planned. Is there something we have to figure out, or will it be a soft landing? Do we have to find a solution, or die? Fuck, what do we do. Dread has become sheer horror as the ground gets closer and closer and closer until-

A swordfish flies out of nowhere, a fucking swordfish, it's sabre pierces the collar of my suit, missing my neck by inches, and hooking me like bait on a line. I swear loudly, hardly able to grasp the reality of a swordfish flying through the air. As I look around, I see other fish helping the tributes to the ground. I swear again, my feet dangling helplessly as the creature lowers me to my fate.

My feet touch down on a terracotta, and I try to gather my thoughts, try to calm my heart rate, try to look for Castor. I cannot see her. We are on the rooftop of a building, each resting on a starting podium in the form of individual chimneys. I feel sick to my core, and I feel the blood drain from my face as I realise there are only 20ish podiums, and Castor is nowhere in sight.

10

9

Castor isn't here.

8

7

So where the fuck is she?

6

5

Fuck, there are multiple Bloodbaths, multiple Cornucopias. Shit.

4

3

And I am without the one person I am here to protect.

2

1

And the anger fills me. Instinct takes over.

The claxon booms, and I sprint forwards.

i'd die alone
just to walk you home

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

Asriel Dreamurr, Intro

Asriel Dreamurr

Humanity is something ugly. I have seen their faces, the curled, blackened fingers of Ingran Angsot and their promise of survival at the cost of my organs wrapped around his wrists. He is shackled by the sins of a man but they do not weigh him down. There is no morality to clip his demon's wings and so he soars with a freedom I will never understand. I do no know why we subject ourselves to his company but I trust in Jano and Castor- I trust that they are doing the best they can. I thought I would hate such beautiful people, with the kind of radiance meant to smother men like me and men like Ingran. But they are gracious in the way they drown out all others.

Today is the day. There are bumps upon my skin, fear ran through my body and my leg is aching something awful. And I wait for my ascent, arms crossed to my chest as though to hold the last pieces of my broken heart together. The elevator is claustrophobic. It feels as though the walls will collapse upon me at any second and then my canon will ring before the gong even has time to shout.

And then I am falling. The world has pulled itself out from beneath me and my lungs are left empty and hollow as I plunge into a kind of inky unknown. Death. She must feel like this. Her arms around me and perhaps it was a cruel kind of joke, thinking that a boy like me could ever be free.

She catches me. Her scales are a bright blue with a beautiful golden sheen that is all I can see before once again I am alone- sat upon a chimney and searching for a familiar face.

Jano.

I must get to him.

[Asriel enters the bb]

[kap]

[Sage Scarborough; Intro]

Preparing for the bloodbath was one of the scariest yet most exciting moments of Sage’s life. He was terrified over the fact that he could very well be taken down in just one shot, and terrified over the fact that he may have to kill someone else. He also didn’t want to think about the possibility of losing any of his allies. It was an exciting moment, however, because of the fact that he didn’t know what would happen. For all he knew, he could retrieve the one item from the cornucopia that would save his life and get him out of the arena alive. Though, he doubted that would be the case.

The outfit that the boy was put in was one he found quite ridiculous. When he looked at what his idiot stylist had put him in, he really wanted to question it, but decided against it. He was wearing quite a few odd pieces. What he found most peculiar were the fruit patterned boxers, the pink, cashmere turtleneck, the fur coat and his lack of anything to wear on his feet. Glancing down at his barefeet and back to his stylist, he raised an eyebrow, but kept silent.

When it came time to get ready to go into the arena, Sage went where he was directed to. At this point, he knew it wasn’t worth arguing about what they told him to do. Making sure his token which was a bracelet from Affron, was secured on his wrist, he took a deep breath. He was ready. Whether or not that meant he’d be making it out alive, he wasn’t sure. Regardless, he would try his best to either make it back for Parsley, or die protecting Affron. Sage’s feelings for his District partner were too strong to let him go easily, and he certainly didn’t want his sister to have to watch him die without putting in any effort, either.

It was odd, how they were to enter the arena. Instead of rising up into it as the tributes usually did, they fell from the sky. At first, Sage felt like screaming from the surprise, but kept it in, staying quiet. He had to stay focused, as he was sure this was just another way the Gamemakers were trying to distract him, from his mission of survival. Sage was surprised to land safely on the ground. After all, he didn’t know how high up he’d been when he fell. Though, he wasn’t sure he really should be surprised, as surely the Gamemakers wouldn’t want to kill all the tributes before the Games even began, right?

That was when the countdown began, and Sage took another deep breath.

30, 29, 28,

He shifted on his feet and looked around at the other tributes, trying to see who was there, as it certainly wasn’t everyone.

27, 26, 25,

Unable to see Affron anywhere, Sage began to worry a bit.

24, 23, 22,

Then, he spotted Marcus. At least one of his allies was there. That was slightly reassuring

21, 20, 19,

Sage surveyed the cornucopia, seeing what he could find that may help him.

18, 17, 16,

There was nothing but crayons and a few scattered weapons. Suddenly, Sage began to lose most of the hope he had had at things going well.

15, 14, 13,

I have to do this for Parsley he thought to himself.

12, 11, 10,

For Affron, too. he told himself.

9, 8, 7,

It’s almost time

6, 5, 4,

He narrowed his eyes, zeroing in on where he was going to go as soon as the gong sounded.

3,

He took another breath in.

2,

He too another breath out.

1, GONG!

Then, he ran for his life.

Sage Scarborough enters the Bloodbath

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

Chaos O'Hana / Introduction

Time has shattered against our favor~ and the Capitol’s words mock against my senses. Odds are opposing us all, with more then double the amount of usual Tributes. Vocals from my Siblings are sobbing for me to reverse these past days; to return to the sea, where Lightning and I both joined each other in a morning swim before the Reaping. A more threatening promise should have begged him not to be foolish. Could I have conjured up a pristine statement that would have prevented him from Volunteering? Most likely not, because he’s as stubborn as I am. Which leads me here, awaiting departure to my ultimate demise.

The chill of the room nips at every inch of my skin; while I stand high confidently, in the bareness of my birthday suit. “This is ridiculous! There’s no way I’m wearing these things.” Refusal barks past my lips, my arms crossed in adamant disapproval. The clock is ticking towards the unpredictable future. Terror and bloodshed is destined in my nearby destiny. And my concern resides merely in the ludicrous outfit they’re demanding me to wear. What would Lightning say about my current childish behaviors? Though it’s solely our last conversation that rings through my ears.

“You volunteered to see one of us win. Don’t fuck it up right off the bat.” Advice combed through his throat in a humorous pitch. There was such temptation to correct him- to remind him that I volunteered to see to it that he reaches victory. But with the opening just around the corner, I refrained from potentially causing another stir between us. Unison must follow us into the Arena, just as it has through our life since Lightning was first born.

A grin creased my cheeks, as I stared upon my baby Brother with such proud admiration. He has certainly grown into an exceptional Man. Worry furrowed my brow still, uncertain of the days ahead. “Love you.” Whispered across my tongue, attempting to remain a steady tone. If it was only me about to enter this sentence, strength would embody me fully. With another O’Hana life dangling upon the line though, fear rattles me to the fullest. He simply nodded in response to my love, and though it wasn’t the reply I was seeking, at least it distracted me from the horrid facts about to arise.

My palm pressed against his shoulder in a playful manner, before I yanked him into a hug- whether he liked it or not. “Right, I’ll see you soon Little Brother.” And with that he was off, and I was off to; both of us journeying to our individual chambers that further our confinement, moments before the start of the Game. He didn’t want to say goodbye, and I can’t blame him for such. Hopefully we’ll only have to depart once more after this, when my soul dissipating from these cruel lands. And his existence will strive to eternal survival.

Acceptance finally plagues me, as I slip into the unbelievable outfit provided. “Guess this gives me more protection then being naked.” Muffles through clenched teeth, disgusted by my reflection. Just in time the clown costume is finished upon me, the countdown begins for stepping into pods. “Awesome! Can’t wait to show off my new look!” Least sarcasm contorts me, rather then a hangover. Nah, I was smart & stopped drinking like a little less then twenty-four hours ago! My procrastination is slimming. And just as I reward myself for this; I’m unexpectedly falling, rather than being raised into the Arena.

An ocean-blue hue surrounds the aroma around me- in every single direction, as a sturdy ground refutes from capturing my feet. My heart races in adrenaline, pattering with desperation to discover a solution. This can not be happening, I’m not collapsing to my death just yet! Are the Makers craving for their mere twenty-four tributes to control? Are they disposing of some, & rising up the others to the actual Arena as we speak? Answers will certainly be met soon.

As if to represent my outfit, a school of clownfish succumb to my aid. Different areas of my exterior are nipped at, and comforted by these creatures. Suddenly it’s as if I’m not falling, but rather floating. The scenery upon me can now be absorbed, and it’s as if I’ve transferred from reality to a dream. Did they spike my last meal? Because these senses are awfully familiar.

Without warning I’m gently placed upon the roughness of bricks. Baffled eyes gaze up to my situation; and I take a few lengthy blinks to register if this is truly happening. Other Tributes are being drifted down by various animals, to the safety of the ground- and soon to be the horrors of the Game’s opening. This is when I realize their positions, that even I am on top of a chimney as they all are. All of this is beyond comprehendible. This is the Arena after all though. And the beautiful nightmare has begun.

{Chaos O’Hana enters the Bloodbath}

[♛ scandal]

{Pollux Cree | D5 | INTRO}

p o l l u x   c r e e

I woke up this morning, tired and scared. I am usually not scared, but today could be the day I die, hopefully not. I ate as much as I could and drank 2 glasses of water to fill me up before I go into the arena. My stomach just kept on feeling empty. Butterflies flew throughout my stomach. I felt like puking, but I knew if I did I would have to clean it up, and my stomach would really be empty. When it was time to enter the arena, I almost fainted. They put the tracker in my arm, as we went up in a aircraft of sorts. When we got to the tube area.



I tripped and fell. I layed there. I felt like nothing was going to happen to me If I just stayed there. I didn’t want to get up, but the peacekeepers pulled me off the feet, and I went into my designated room. My tribute uniform for the arena was stupid. 3 dresses, goggles, pink bra, winged bag, ribbon, and thigh high leather boots. I didn’t know how I was going to survive in these. I put them on and got in the tube. After the timer ended, they tube closed and the bottom of it dropped out. I screamed for my life. Then I was sitting on the back of some animal. I opened my eyes. I was on top a whale shark! It carried me toward a chimney and sat me down on it.



I looked up to see the cornucopia. I focused my eyes on it. I am ready to win. I just hope that I can.



The gong sounded.



I flew off the podium, scared beyond belief.



{Pollux Cree enters the bloodbath}

[Gryphon]

[Diorite Fray, intro]


{ diorite fray }

I'm not sure what to make, of any of this.

Of all of this.

Has she finally taken over and distorted my perception of reality?

This all feels so unreal.

It was all we had for uniforms, Sardonyx said--an erratic selection of clothes and accessories from the closets of Cricket and Hera themselves along with Justice--

(My hands tremble once more at the sound of his name leaving her lips.)

Bangles, an artistic fake mustache, and even a corset but there was nothing to find to cover my lower body. She, with her luscious locks and her glowing skin, they flash by in quick movements of kindness to sort out this predicament--the corset is now a tight-fitting pair of undergarments that will have to make do from what we were provided, and a purple silk robe is now a small, translucent skirt. I didn't have to wear everything given to me, I was told, so alongside my new creations I wore a jacket of roses and a tote bag of the arena map for the 67th.

No shoes to protect my feet, but I'm better off having them exposed than the entire lower half of my body.

60.

Tallu takes me to the tubes and so it all begins.

We're here. Finally here, at the last page of the calendar.

45.

She watches me move upwards from coldness and for a moment I gasp when all I see is black, but then

I'm falling.

I no longer feel the plate and watch it soar down the sky at a faster rate from below me, I don't want to scream but I'm so scared and I don't know what to think--

(Tentacles?)

A sudden plop and all I see is a deep pink.

"What--?"

But I'm not really falling anymore, I still am but something's holding me up and then I meet tile and the creature floats away back into the sky.

I must be dreaming.

I have to be.

So why is the clock still ticking?

10.

Sea creatures? A roof? What are we all wearing?

9.

Is Saummerand in a ball gown?

8.

He's making it work, I think.

7.

So many surprises are in store for us, I can tell; look at how we're entering this hell.

6.

I have to do it for them all,

5.

I'm so sorry Justice,

4.

(Wake up.)

3.

But my eyes are already wide open.

2.

You know,

1.

I never thought our death bed could be full of wonders from another planet.

[Diorite enters the Bloodbath]

[sadniss everdeen]

Gabrielle Bellamonte

this body is water-logged. it tethers you to the very edge of the world, suspended between here and nowhere.

Gabrielle Bellamonte -Introduction

When you fall, it’s silent.

Screams ring out around you but you tumble into the abyss without a noise. You’d forgotten what it felt like to be weightless, to feel the very air around you rush while you plummet. A silvery shoal of fish split to allow your passing and their scales brush cool and calm against your burning skin. It would almost feel like you’re under the ocean without the roar of the wind in your ears.

These past few days have all narrowed down to this one moment. Last night, you felt the first shiver of anticipation riot through you, the only swell of indignation from a body you’ve doomed to the deep. It’s strange, to walk in a skin that has an expiration date, but you’ve been working on borrowed time for so long now that it feels familiar, somehow. Like a dream.

The same shoal of fish you split in half with your body swoop in after you. They’re shimmering bullets in a cloudless sky, a dark and cloying mist that turns into clouds. They gather and condense underneath you until you stop falling and float instead; the residual cotton in your veins from last night makes the whole world sway with you, their slippery bodies sliding past and over you, sliding over your exposed skin like quicksilver. Out of the corner of your eye you see a tribute land face-first on a manta ray, and across there’s another clinging desperately onto squishy, sticky body of a squid. The air is alive with the cooing of blue whales as their massive forms temporarily blot out the sun.

You had a dream like this, once. Spiralling deeper into the abyss, rushing down down down into the heart of the earth. Maybe you’ll keep falling until it swallows you up and you can finally sleep like you’ve wanted to since the moment you crawled back onto the shores of District Four, two souls heavier than you were when you left.

The air is thick here. It settles in your lungs and makes them itch. When your feet touch ground they do so reluctantly, unwilling to let go of the dream you drifted in with. The fish slip through your fingers as they dissipate and you catch one in your palm before it escapes.

All around you, children get ready to die. Some look eager to meet their fate and others paralyzed, frozen by indecision. It’s too late to pedal back, the dream turned into a nightmare turned into reality, but taking another breath of this air that tastes like it’s not from this world settles any riots that would start in your chest. You came here for this. You came here to meet your end and now it rears up to meet you, but. You don’t shout. You don’t stomp your feet, or cry, or demand to be taken home. There’s a quiet in your head you aren’t used to, a fullness where your chest used to be light.

You were taken away from the ocean but here you’ll die at the bottom of the sea. It brings a smile to your lips, light and kind and so strange, and the last of your uncertainty trickles away. Fate brought you here, and you owe her enough to see her through.

[Gabrielle Bellamonte enters the Bloodbath]

[Unitato15]

[Chloriphina Sills D4f // intro]

♕ c h l o r i p h i n a s i l l s. ♕

After putting on her ridiculously awesome outfit ( consisting of shower sandals, a gold speedo, a black bowler hat, a black flower broach, foxhead stole, anatomical heart shaped temporary tattoo applied to her upper arm, thigh high boots, a district eleven bow tie, a short orange fur coat and light up suspenders) with the help of her stylist , District 4 female, Chloriphina Sills, steps into the entrance tube and prepares for the upwards, elevator like motion that will carry her into this year's arena. Instead of a sudden upwards jolt however, the bottom of the tube opens and she begins to fall through a strangely aquatic sky, where sea animals of all kinds, gracefully swim through the air.

Just when she begins to panic , a seal "swims" over to her through the air to catch her and her seemingly endless decent becomes her last peaceful second before the inevitable carnage of the games.
"Oh my ripred", Chloriphina puns, "I could just seal with joy, right now, this cute little guy could help seal the hearts of some sponsors. It's certainly stolen mine". The last part she says while gesturing to the foxhead stole around her neck.

Lori's puns are soon interrupted by the creature dropping her onto the chimney of a strange mansion, where she can see several other tributes, one of them being an ally of hers,
"Hm", Lori ponders briefly, remembering something she'd thought of while training, "I wonder if I'll live long enough to give these people nicknames".

The strangely made cornucopia lies in the center of the tributes, and, pulling herself out of her thoughts, she draws her attention to the items that surrounded and filled the odd structure. Multicolored crayons dot the areas along the cornucopia, as though the shingled roof is an ice cream cone and the crayons its sprinkles. These colorful implements are accompanied by a scattering of random items that are most likely intended to be used as weapons.
After surveying her surroundings, Lori glances back at her ally and smiles. The countdown to beginning has almost come to an end. As frightening as this should be, Lori keeps her wits about her. This is moment when she will finally show the world what she's made of. Whether that's figurative or literal, however, is yet to be determined.

Soon, the countdown ends, and Lori begins her fight for pun domination.

table made by the fabulous gryphon


[Chloriphina Sills enters the bloodbath]

[noodles]

Feb 18, 2017 15:00:45 GMT -5 noodles said:

[Anton Ladetto, Intro]

[Anton Ladetto, Attack #1, 5195]

a n t o n    l a d e t t o

There isn’t exactly complete chaos when the gong first goes off. All of the tributes are still scrambling down from where the Capitol had inconveniently placed them. When he finally gets down from the perch that he was on, Anton begins his journey towards the shiny object that everyone else is running towards. When he turns towards his left, he sees a tribute, and without any weapons, all he can do is flail around. A fist still makes a decent weapon if used correctly. Sadly, he doesn’t exactly know how to use them.

[Anton attacks Sage Scarborough; unarmed]
i16_q3iDunarmed
[Gash/Bruised Right Collar Bone -- 3.0 damage]
[Anton Ladetto picks up blue-violet crayon]unarmed

[Onyx]

Feb 18, 2017 15:00:50 GMT -5 Onyx said:

Ave Clayton - Intro

Ave Clayton – Attack #1 - 5024

dim the light in your head, in your heart, in your hiding emotion

I come to my senses with a gasp, desperately sucking at the air which whistles past my ears with terrifying speed and force. My fingers are stretched out, the bag I was given in the holding room striving to act like a parachute as it's buffeted in the air current. To my right, my District partner seems hypnotised by the way the ground expands in front of our eyes as if with a loving welcome for us. To my left, I see-

What is that? Its body is shining silver, rippling in the light like mercury. Its gills flutter, but with its breath rather than the fierce rising wind. In fact, it's moving through the empty space around me with as little effort as if it were...swimming. Gaining control of my motion, I stretch out a hand towards it. It looks back curiously. I reach further... further - I'm enamoured by its metallic beauty.

But I've stretched too far, and suddenly I'm spinning, out of control, the turbulent air pulling eddies at my ankles. My head reels, my vision is white. I turn my arms in the air like the blades of a hovercraft, trying to set myself straight again - and so when I plummet right into someone else, my hands in fists flying inadvertently towards their body, I don't feel the adrenaline of the fight; only the panic of my own need for balance and survival.

Attacks Chaos , Unarmed
tVGkh36punarmed
Knocked backwards -- 0.5

Picks up Carnation Pink crayon

unarmed

[ulysses d11 tribsit]

Feb 18, 2017 15:00:49 GMT -5 ulysses d11 tribsit said:

D5M Lorenzo Ruined | BB Intro

D5M Lorenzo Ruined | Attack 1 | 5188

The second the clock struck zero he leapt off his chimney and onto the slanted roof. Like the other tributes, he slid a few feet before leaning into the roof to find his balance. He took a step overconfidently and fell, again, this time face first. “Ow” he muttered into the shingles. Lesson learned, he put his fingers to the roof and crawled back up beside his chimney, which seemed like the most secure spot.

Until he spotted the shining object in the center – the Cornucopia. If he didn’t get it, someone else would.

Carefully he shimmied his way forward, learning with each step how to distribute his weight more effectively. By the time he reached the outskirts of the Cornucopia, he’d gotten the hang of it.

Of course, so had several others. Lorenzo was careful to only lift one hand to grab at the closest tribute. “Back off,” he warned.

[Lorenzo attacks Sage Scarborough; unarmed]

_|c0WsKxunarmed

[5188 -- Gash/Bruised Left Femur -- 4.0 damage]

[Lorenzo picks up Medium Chrome Green crayon]

unarmed