an unkindness of vravens - day six.

[sidney]

 

Purple dyes the water around him as he submerges himself in it, oozing out above him and rolling off the waves he makes in a fine mist. And with it, the unadulterated rage fades slowly. The hatred he'd felt doesn't vanish, but rather it is suffocated by the sadness. By grief. 

Brody doesn't cry; it had been the anger that had allowed that to happen earlier. But he does draw their named in the sand now, as he sits on the beach cross legged with his sword in his lap. Over and over. Again and again. He crosses each out one by one. December first. Then Alice. In order, he thinks before he erases it all, and starts again. Each time their faces flash in his mind, the way they looked in death and after. At peace, he supposes. 

That doesn't make him feel any better, though.

•••

He doesn't look up when their names are painted in the sky. Instead, he seethes. Quietly. He thinks of Tune and how much he wants to snap that neck of hers. He thinks of Carly and her offer. Kill her so I don't have to, she'd said with a sly grin. As if she was the mastermind and Brody was the puppet. Stupid girl. Who in the fuck did she think she was? 

Kill her quick, but don't let her suffer, yeah?

It wasn't a question, though. Not really. More so a request or a demand. A hit. A bounty taken out on her head, though Brody doesn't remember being offered anything of significance in return. He'd kill her, though, but not because Carly told him to. Because he wanted to. And he'd sure as fuck make her suffer. Because he wanted to. And now especially just to spite that cocky bitch from Nine.

•••

He's surprised when he wakes up to still be alone at the river. He could have sworn there would have been some ambush or something that he was ill-prepared for. Brody half-imagined Tex would come pushing through the trees for another go, since their last encounter had been so brief. But he was almost impressed, still. He'd taken Andrew down in one fell swoop and Brody didn't relish the idea of being on the other end of that spear any time soon.

As soon as he goes to set out for the day, however, much to his dismay, the familiar flapping of wings is heard in the distance. He's too far from the forest to make it to cover and too unsure of the long-lasting effects of that purple shit he'd left behind in the water. It was still there, for fuck's sake. It never dissipated or dispersed, not even in that huge ass lake. That was unsettling, to say the least. Especially considering it was inside him at one point.

Brody draws his blade as soon as he spots it. Large. Much larger than the horde of bats he'd already encountered once here. But he's confident with this sword in his hand - with Ramsey's name beneath his fingertips he feels like he can do just about anything.

Including killing this ugly fucking thing.

So he rears back his arm and hopes to find purchase. He has far better shit to do today, like find some goddamn food. His stomach growls and he swings vengeance.

Oh, didn't he mention? He named the silver beauty. It'll look so good plunged through Tune Walker's chest, don't you think?

[ brody attacks vraven, bone sword ]

WOESiSd_h3sword

[ 8 + 1 blades + 1 mutt tamer ]

sword

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

I am an old, ancient being, it is true. My feathers go unpreened for long periods of time, the edges of my beak are chipped and cracked, my talons are worn with age, and the once brilliant glowing fuchsia of my eyes is now dimmed to an inky indigo blackness. That darkness creeps around the edges of us all eventually, to some a soft goodnight and to others a foreboding warning. My wings, unpreened, still allow me my flight: a shadow breaking the morning light of the scrambling creatures below me. My beak, chipped and cracked, is still strong enough to crack their skulls like the shell of a peanuts. My talons, worn with age, are capable of hauling men from their standing, pulling them into the clouds with me and letting them plummet to their deaths below. Because the darkness comes for us all, and if we are clever enough, we can harness it.

I caw down to him as a greeting- I am not one to play with my food, and this form is only temporary. A test for what is to come. Let us see if he is worthy, this Brody Loomis with the rotten heart that's rumored to still be beating somewhere within his chest. I crane my neck, head tilted sideways. If the warmth exists, I do not see it. But to be death is to be cold- the best of us are the most frigid. My wings extend as he makes his first move, his bone sword flaying into my birdboned chest and freeing a fleece of feathers in the process. My wings reach their full span and I resume flight.

Test initiated, then. Let a contest of death decide if the world truly needed this reaper to-be.

^{[nera the vraven attacks brody, knife]}
dAkUhFdjQqknife
_[3.5]

knife

[sidney]

 

It is with great strength that Brody plunges vengeance into the beasts chest. It slices through with more ease than he thought it would, especially considering where he’d sank the blade. But it would seem birds are not as hearty as fifty bats bearing down on you all at once.

This one in particular would perish quickly, of that he was positive. It was pathetic, really. Is this all the Gamemakers had in store for him now? They should have let him find her today instead. It would have been a far more entertaining show. Brody knows Panem would much rather see a fight to the death between him and Tune instead of a downright slaughter of one of their precious mutts. 

Dark ichor splatters across the rocky beach as he pulls it free with a flourish. “Not so tough alone, are you?” A flash of teeth, an incredulous snicker. It flails about, prostrating before him with an over-extension of its wings. “Is that supposed to scare me?” It swipes out at him and makes contact along his side. But it’s just a little nick, a tiny scrape that won’t amount to anything other than needing a mere band-aid. 

“Pathetic,” he goads it further, wanting it to swoop in once more so he can just cut it’s head off and be done with it. “Come on, little birdie,” he waves a finger, asking it to come closer and try again. But he feints left and swings back around.


“Let’s have some fun.”

[ brody attacks vraven, bone sword ]

vaFP3dqSTusword

[Accuracy]

sword

[ xxxx ]

“sword”·sword