hold no grudge [thread]

[ryan]

He had thought about it since the moment he had been reaped. 

It was a monstrous thought, one that he never thought would live longer than a day. It is black, and gristly, with the right amount of red draped against the corners. He saw knives that day, ripping into his skin as he was offered to the masses, a sacrifice that no one actually wanted.

A pariah, ready for slaughter.

He knew to take it in strides after coming back to the reality that just maybe he would be okay. He had just as much grit as his brother, and the same amount of determination. Who cared that he was the one that had been forgotten about. He would make his own sort of display. He would not let the fact that his brother, Stitch Gabel, speak for him. He knew that he was a spitting image, but wipe away the bad attitude, and the willingness to make others happy, there was a boy that wanted nothing more than to just exist. 

His mother had always wondered why he didn’t have as much of a backbone as he brother, and Thread always laughed at that. Stitch was a lot of things, but courageous? That wasn’t one of them. Thread always thought of him as the selfish one. He always said that he was protecting Thread, shielding from the harsh realities that existed. Even at a young age, Thread knew that he could handle himself, but he was never given that opportunity. 

Thread always had that stolen from here.

And so even here, amongst a bunch of hyenas ready to feast, Thread knew that he could at least speak for himself. He was not kind, in the slightest, unless maybe if it came to Fleur. She had been around for all of the worst parts, and while he knew that she was strong, that didn’t mean that they both didn’t have something to prove here.

And even with actual monsters staring them down, Thread was just as fearless as he was when he stepped foot in this arena. He would waste no time on tragedy after all, just his own pride. 

He promised himself that he would make it out of here alive. 

But after a close call with death, he realized that his chances were slim. He had to question himself in many regards through his life, but right now, his resolve to live was low. Even now, as he thrust his weapon through skin and bone, there was no resolve. No chance for him to taste the air outside this place. 

He could feel the hot breath of the creature above, and then before he could even react, a slice across his arm that sent him to the ground. He was not going to make, and now, he knew it. 

And even in talking to Fleur, in those moments, he felt revitalized, like his death would actually mean something. He also knew that he was stubborn, and he would not go without it being on his own accord.

If he could still breath, then he could still live.

He was at least comfortable, even if that wasn’t in the traditional sense. His hand was no long holding onto his spear, but this time it was resting on the ground, the damp grass and sand did not make him feel any more comfortable, but the more he thought about how this was a fitting end, the more he was able to drift off. 

Moments passed, and when the world was about to go black, he looked up, and there was Fleur, drenched from head to toe. Thread couldn’t help but laugh, even if it hurt to do so. This was not an easy process, dying. It was ugly and guttural and real. 

But Thread was okay with that. 

”You look like shit.” he smiled as he started to cough, a mixture of blood and phlegm coming up his throat. ”I guess I’m not ready to go quite yet.” he held up his hand to Fleur, his body weak. There was no way he was making it to the next day, but at least he could find comfort. ”Take me anywhere but here.”

OOC: a proper death thread for Thread. Youll see posts from Nadia and I here. He will die at the end of this thread still, we just had plans to do this

[fireflyz]

Sleeping on the ground for days hadn’t been a pleasant adjustment for Fleur - she could feel the consequences of that decision (the only one she had, really) radiating through her bones just as much as she had felt every blade and whip cut through her skin. But in some ways, pressing her face to the earth had become a comfort. It had given her some semblance of calm when she was high off mutt poison, some respite after long days full of regret and what-ifs.

So when she laid on the ground next to Thread, she convinced herself that it was to comfort him and not because she felt like her world was crumbling. (And it was.)

”You look like shit.”

”I’ve been worse,” Fleur answered, trying not to let her eyes linger on the places where his body wept blood. She was still holding his hand after he had offered it to her. It was all she could do now. She knew what severe damage looked like.

”Take me anywhere but here,” he asked, and Fleur had to stop herself from responding I wish.

Instead, she asked, ”Where do you want to go?”

-----

table by Kaplan

hi