darkness is honest, are you to yourself? [ABNB day 1]

[kap]

a n i k a

Mannequin paired with marionette
In dissonant discord, our deadly duet

Finnagan had definitely seemed annoyed with your ranting and rambling post-Bloodbath, but he at least hadn't tried to kill you yet. That was, at the very least, a little bit reassuring. Maybe you'd at least have him on your side for a little while. Maybe he'd even prove himself helpful.

As you both keep walking, you find yourself watching your step more than before after having fallen in pothole. The ground begins to show itself to feel a bit unstable and uneven as you keep going, so that makes you even more cautious. You really don't want to be falling down again. Falling on your ass isn't a good look.

The river that winds through the area you're both in now doesn't look like a very natural one. Or, at the very least, it's not water, from what you can tell. It looks more like blood. For whatever reason, though, it doesn't disturb you as much as you feel like it should. The sight of blood is actually kind-of appealing to you now. You'd even made the effort to collect some bloody-looking liquid near the cornucopia earlier.

Your teeth were aching, for some reason or another. It was as if they were screaming at you to dig them into something. You'd gotten some sort of golden fangs to pop over them earlier, and just now decided to pop them in. Maybe that'd help with the strange feeling you were getting.

Walking with Finnagan, you eventually stop and decide that, despite his annoyance with your complaints about the black eye, you'd ask him for some help with something. You'd gotten makeup— concealer, specifically— when you'd received some stuff from sponsorship. Maybe he'd be willing to help you cover up the bruising. You'd certainly complain about it a bit less if he did.

You'd already tried earlier to cover it up yourself and struggled quite a bit. It probably looked like a mess right now. You definitely didn't want to look like any more of a mess than you already did.

"Hey, can you help me with something? It might nullify some of my complaining, if that means anything to you." You're trying to convince him to help you, holding up the tube of concealer you'd gotten.

"I can't really cover this mess on my own."

You give him a weak smile. You'd really appreciate the assistance if he were willing.

We're lost in a lullaby, slumbering away
Where sins remain hidden, but rarely they stay

[Anika collects plants and flower crown]

[Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom]]

Annoyance is normal for him. The pang of frustration was as bright as the white hot flash of pain from his ribs, but he's left that feeling back in the cathedral of shattered glass. Anika Khan hadn't made him want to kill anyone yet, but there's that deep desire in his stomach to hunt, to strike, and to feast. The golden claws coming into his skin ache. Growing pains of the special serums the Capitol had given them; a reminder of the power others carried over them. Just another reason to prove his might, power, and strength. Anika is the golden child of twelve, but he didn't need to be the same. Not when twelve cared about him.

The bitter taste of reality brushes past his chest as he grips the sleeve of his jacket. The smell of blood dripping heavily through the air. Stronger than what he'd consider normal human senses. The metallic smell is nauseating to him. The ground turning closer and closer to that red color of blood, where the dried amber grass meets a red river of endless blood and gore. The sight is hauntingly beautiful, but still terrifying. The amber grass is more alive than most of the arena around. The blood having given a rise to the life around the arena.

Blue flowers bloom everywhere around them. Mixing with the red of the river's bank. His eyes taken in those flowers carefully. Watching the way they sway just gently from any sort of movement. Finn can see the way the grass and flowers thrive, which only adds to the pure horror fantasy surrounding them. His eyes glance around through the plants, remembering what he'd spent time learning about the plants that'll be useful for him. Patching up his broken ribs, he needed some sort of pain relief. The healing would be easier with something to keep his mind off of the burning pain he's been used to for a long time.

Black eyes were a common injury in his line of work. Watching the way Anika stops once more, he could still see the blackness peeking through the makeup she'd gotten. A memory of the first time he'd had used concealer himself to cover up the marks from others flashes before his eyes. A younger Finnagan Davies with a brush and a smattering of product as he covers the black eye and bruised cheek from the brawl with a gang member who had been encroaching on the Davies Home. The first time he'd been punched hard enough to be left with purpled skin and burning flashes of pain.

"Hey, can you help me with something? It might nullify some of my complaining, if that means anything to you." A sigh desperately wants to fall from his lips, but he swallows down the noise before he just lets his shoulders relax slightly. Softly, he hears her continue as he cracks his knuckles. "I can't really cover this mess on my own." Finally, he watches her carefully. Face blank as he remembers the first time he had to put concealer on someone else. Careful fingers dabbing the product into the purple marks of a friend who complained the entire time, but the fear of worse bursting in his chest. Twelve was home in a way, but Finn didn't have friends for long. Too close to him and they'll become bait for the snitch. Used to get under his skin, he always kept everyone away.

"Sit." His voice feels quieter than normal as he settles Anika on the ground for a second, letting himself grab the concealer and starting to move closer. A careful hand as he starts to pat away the pieces of purple blinking in and out of her face. The coverage she'd done first wasn't perfect. His voice comes out again. "I can see that. You've done a shit job." The teasing tone is as heavy as the blood water is. His eyes focus close as he keeps moving gently, avoiding hurting her to the best of his capability. Fingers careful in application.

"I've got you. Covered up too many black eyes over the years."

The fuss was annoying, but reminded him of home.

"And, there you go, Princess."

Rolling his eyes, he lets the air grow less tense.

Now if only he could figure out his ribs.

[Finnagan collects Plants!]