muddy these webs we weave / bb v rm v ej, day 5.

[revel latimer, 11b 🔍 jay]

S I L V E R S T R A U S S

You wake up restless.

The night was long, for you, boundless as if time's immortal shackles had loosened. You refused to close your eyes, to succumb to the tiredness in your bones, not when three bodies were only a few feet away from yours. They were kind enough, the dark-haired girl from Nine, Jack, you learned her name was, gave you a few of her unused things. And Katrina came over just as the dark bled into the grey sky, a smirk etched onto her wolf-like features, her tongue-in-cheek words eager on her lips. She likes having someone to play with, to pluck their marionette strings and have them buckle to her charm, and you like not giving her an inch. It was a game of cat and mouse, in a way, but one wolf bounding after another.

You couldn't let your guard down, though. Trust is unsound, fragile, a garden of roses, elegant and enticing but painful, scarring. It makes you vulnerable. You didn't survive this long, through the games, through life in Two, to get your throat slit while asleep.

It'd be fitting though, girl-shadow, more ghost than human to fade away softly into a memory, for a quiet girl to die a quiet death, leaving the world as you entered it.

Time was a slow burn, seconds achingly melting into minutes into hours, as the jet-black sky faded into a slate-colored one. The sun doesn't rise in a place like this, it's hidden, trapped behind overcast clouds and a mournful air. That was the point, you guess, to have even the earth taste like death, smell of rot like the bodies decaying on its ground.

Tears prick at your weary eyes like morning dew, bones cracking as you stretch yourself out on the cave floor. Your lack of sleep hits you, finally, when you stand, your balance shaky and knees buckling slightly. You keep yourself steady, holding a palm against the damp rock, digging the crown of your claws just deep enough to have a solid grip.

It's a while before the others start to stir, their bodies folding in and curling in on themselves before unfurling like a flower's petal when it touches the sun. It's odd, the way you can observe how someone is by the way they sleep. Andal and Katrina are splayed out against the ground, their limbs thrown and tossed around, seemingly no care in the world, and Jack with her knees pulled to her chest, closed tightly like a fist.

You gather your things, it's not much, but you drag the time along as the others rouse and begin to do the same. The crossbow by your side is already bolted, you did that last night as a safeguard. It's nothing against them, you want to like them, but you know how this game ends. And they do too.

You follow when they leave, trailing behind to keep a chary eye on them, but not enough to rouse a question. It's familiar territory for you, allowing another to stand in the foreground, step out into the light and take the reins while you faded into the back.

Always a shadow.

It made life easier, though, especially in Two. You were just there most of the time, existing, surviving, but there's something to say about living by the skin of your teeth. No one bothered you, not until the Reaping, at least. You can't remember any words that Victor spoke to you before then, probably because he never did, never cared till you could lose something for him.

Strauss, the word sits thick in your throat, poison on your tongue, but it is the only name you've ever had. It was always just Silver before then. Not a happier time, but a calmer one. You aren't sure if you yearn for it or resent it.

You pull yourself from your thoughts, straighten out your shoulders and grip the wooden stake Jack handed you tighter. The crossbow hangs on your back. You let your ears perk up at the sound of the others, drinking in their words. They talk like they're familiar, old friends going out for a drink. Their faces crease with a smile, even when walking they stay close, so tight-knit. And you, the lone wolf at the back of the back, wondering if you're in the right place.

You catch Katrina's eye, but quickly, you tear away from her gaze. A pang of guilt rings throughout the cavity of your chest, igniting your demure heart. If you were to survive then they'd all have to be dead. You'd have to step over their rotten, decaying skeletons to get back to Two. This is why you never let yourself care, or feel any type of warmth, about anyone, the guilt would eat away at you until there was nothing left, but bones and sinew and an emptiness. Your footsteps start to slow as you think, maybe you should leave, turn around and disappear while they're focused elsewhere. But you don't, you can't, as though your steps are magnetized to their own.

A pack stays together.

The castle on the hill, once just something in the distance shrouded by mist, soon materializes into view. It rises far into the sky, the tallest spires almost touching the clouds. You would look up wide-eyed, its stature something that captivates you, but instead, a sense of dread hooks its foul noose around your neck, a tightness forming in your throat.

You look to the others, eyes flicking to Andal, to Jack, then Katrina, and it's written along their faces, in the way their shoulders collapse in on themselves, and the way their eyebrows crease and meld together. They feel it too, it hangs from their eyes, the dolor.

They tread to the door, the grand entrance, slowly, and again, you follow. You've gotten good at it. Stepping through the threshold, you're greeted by a chill running a crooked finger down your spine. A wind nips at your fur-lined skin. The hallowed halls are dim-light, candles burning softly on either side, the flames flicker with the slam of the door behind you.

Your head shoots up, wide-eyed and alert, your blood rushing through your veins. There's a rumble deep within your chest, something beastly. You can smell them, through the halls, their scent, and the blood-stained on their skin. It's sickly.

You nudge Katrina, the blunt end of the stake pushing lightly into her arm.

"There's someone here, close," you murmur faintly, a whisper in the wind, but loud enough for the others to hear.

You don't move rashly, but quietly, hunting down the smell to its source. A wolf stalking down its prey, canines bared. You and the others follow it with a palpable hunger, it leads you down a maze of ornate halls and doors. It's all so elegant, but you know something is lurking beneath the veiled surface. Touch a golden vase and a spider would crawl out of its mouth.

You stop in front of a grand double door, it's in here. Whatever, whoever, it is. The smell is strong, overbearing, almost. You could practically taste the tang of the blood on their skin. The door pushes open, you trail close after Katrina, your stake clutched in your hand. It's razor-sharp, like your claws.

A blur moves in your vision, your nose flares. It's them. You lunge, striking out at the dark.

silver attacks akira / stake (knife)

qYsIu8kW7yknife

[ 9.0 + 1 (blades) ]

knife

[charade]

Silver earned at least one day of life with us. She may not have been around from the start, but she hunted with us. Killed for us. It’s a shame that the scent of death was so paralyzing. I should have pressed the advantage. The wolf inside subsided over the night. Lessened its grip on me, but didn’t let go either. The death and the blood I licked off the wall sated it. But it—I want a more substantial meal.

Sleep was restless. The anthem showed me the girl Silver shot, as well as the boys from eight and twelve. Fourteen more to go. But that’s not why I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep because I felt like staring at the moon, a howl ripping it’s way free from my throat.

My dreams were confusing. Filled with blood. In them I was running, bounding over hills. Trapped in a cage. Snarling at white-gloved humans poking and prodding. It felt like less a dream and more a memory. But not mine. Not mine.

In my dreams I’m in my rowboat, fishing off the coast of district four. When I look into the water there is a reflection. But not mine. Not mine. In my dreams, I scream, trapped in a prison of flesh and skin. I have to get out, I have to claw and shred it away because it’s not mine. Never mine.

I walk with my pack and Silver trails behind, knowing her place. The voice in my head, the new instinct that’s replaced the old way of thinking says this is right. She is the newest member of the pack. The Omega. She has not earned the right to walk with the betas or lead with the alpha. I jostle Andal’s shoulder playfully, drop my chin onto Jack’s shoulder and whisper.

“Shame your change was different. You’d look great with yellow eyes.”

I feel alive? Unbound? Untamed? With each passing day I feel less like myself and more like—fuck, get ahold of yourself Katrina. You are not a wolf; you are a human. I better not grow a fucking tail, I’ll be pissed.

I’ll—

That would make a good den, yes. An actual house out here in the middle of nowheresville. Well, more of a castle. It looms overhead, jutting out of the ground like a skeletal hand grasping for the sky. It’s a trap, my gut says. Ain’t no way the gamemakers are that decent. We approach it anyway. At the very least it will serve as shelter from the fog.

The door isn’t locked. Once inside I smell faint traces of old blood. The plastics were here at some point. I recognize their scents.

Past the door there’s candles. How do they stay lit? Fuck if I know. But I catch a scent. And Silver does too. She speeds down the corridor, all sniffs and snorts, like a bloodhound chasing down a rabbit. Eager to please. A scout. I don’t have time to take in much of the castle hall. That’s okay. Not like it’s much more than set dressing anyway. I push my way through a large double door, drawing my sword as I do so.

Silver catches the movement a second before I do.

“Silver, wai—“

Her sharpened wood flashes, the air is filled with the smell of blood. Because of that, for the moment, I’ll forget that I’m the alpha and she should have followed my lead. I’ll forgive. But I won’t forget this insult. I inhale deeply, licking my chops. My vision goes red. The hunger in my gut intensifies. Not my pack, not my problem, only fit to bleed and die.

To our left, there’s a boy who looks as pale as Jack does. Silver has chosen him as prey. Men are a dying breed in this arena. His packmate is—no, her scent is wrong. My head cocks to the side in confusion. She ain’t a wolf and she ain’t a bat either.

She smells like—like—

“The fuck?” I say, eying the girl. “How come you didn’t get changed?”

What, did the gamemakers forget to slip her the same roofie as the rest of us?

I glance around the room, taking stock of my surroundings and I don’t like it. It smells of old wood and moldering paper. I doubt any of the books in this library are readable. More than one set of big, oaken doors than the ones we just came through. And there’s more people in the room than just those two.

My eyes narrow. The gamemakers knew what they were doing, putting several careers in one place. A shame Fray isn’t here. I don’t know shit about Ace other than that they laughed when they got reaped and they are from two, like Silver. That’s okay. I don’t need to know much more about them. It’s the tribute standing next to them that raises my hackles.

I’ve already forgotten the pale guy and the weirdo who didn’t undergo the change.

I’ve got my eyes set on better prey.

“You. Been looking for you.” I bark at the blonde. Fray might be a classic prissy career, but that’s to be expected from district one. It’s a different kind of insult knowing that my district partner is also a rich bitch that didn’t have to put any real work into this. It’s different knowing that she tried to steal my thunder.

“You know, I volunteered for my sister. What’s it like, volunteering for a nobody and dying for nothing?”

I don’t give her time to answer, I just surge forward with a gleam in my eye to match the shine of my blade.

The fight with the four girls has me energized. Hurricane Katrina’s on the howl. Prowl. Prowl. Fuck. I better not lose the ability to speak in more than barks and growls. I—

You know, seven’s blood had a hint of pine in it. I bet Elle’s will taste like the ocean.


Katrina attacks Elle, sword

0eD0sL7hSusword
1115 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage

Day 5 accuracy re-roll
sword
-- Shallow Cut on Forehead -- 4.5 damage

sword·sword

[sidney]

J A C K   P R I C E

It is with a gnawing, eat-you-from-the-inside-out kind of hunger that you wake the next morning. It rests in the pit of your stomach, scratching at the back of your throat - sore and aching, like you'd slept with your window open on a cold night. Water hasn't quenched it, no matter how many times you'd tried the past few days. You drank and drank, even tried to devour raw meat the way you'd seen Andal and Kat have a go at it. But it was no use. All that did was make you heave it whole onto the ground and your stomach howl with an endless desire to be filled, yet nothing seemed to sate the feeling. It was driving you insane. Can you not chew so fucking loudly? You remember snapping a few hours ago at Andal as he munched on something for breakfast. But to you, it was like nails being crushed between two bricks. An assault on all your senses, causing your blood to boil and an urge to rip his fucking throat out trying with all its might to consume you. You refuse to let it. For now. You need him. You need them all. Even Silver. It was strategic, you had told them. There's power in numbers, more of us than them, blah blah blah. Whatever you needed to say to get them to agree to let her join them. In your opinion, she'd proven herself quite useful after that run-in with the plastics. So much so that she took one down all her own; there was something to be said about that. And it was that they needed her now. If nothing else than to push her in front of them as the swords and axes swing down. But something tells you, it'll be Silver swinging the sword or wielding the axe. She's the one to look out for, managing to make it all this time on her own. She's a survivor - she's a threat. For now, she's our threat. She attacks on command, like a rabid beta, eager to prove themselves in the face of danger to the rest of the pack. To the Alpha. The thought makes you wonder, though, who exactly is the Alpha here? Certainly not Andal. He's so submissive, yielding to you or Kat at any turn, looking to the both of you for guidance and expertise. Maybe Katrina. She'd certainly love to think so. She struts around like she owns this fucking place, as if the Gamemakers had already decided it was going to be her. She was their chose victor long ago. You momentarily wonder if that's true. If that's how it's always been done. It is a show, after all, so you wouldn't be that surprised to find out. But being here, in the running so to speak, your anger rises at the possibility.  There's nothing you hate more than being underestimated.  You shoulder check Kat as you close the distance between you, Silver and Akira. Someone you had hoped you wouldn't see again in this place. So far, you hadn't. And every time you'd heard a canon, you had secretly hoped it had been him. Dead and gone before you even had the chance to square up to him. You wanted it to be someone else's problem. You didn't want to carry the guilt of eliminating one of your own. It's only now, as you approach, that you note the irony of his blood already being spilled. It may have been Silver who slashed the cut, but it was you who handed her the knife. "I'd hoped you were dead already," a sigh follows your somber words as you unsheathe your scythe from its resting place along your back. It sings as you free it from its scabbard, excited to wet itself with blood once again. It takes you a full minute to bring your gaze up to meet his, hesitant to look at the mirror standing before you. Another kid from Nine, called to war. The irony is you both chose this. Because it was better than what you already had. Because win or lose it meant the suffering would end. "We know better than to hope, though, don't we?" You chuckle, a vicious thing barking out between your fanged teeth, bared and gleaming in the darkness of the castle. A shrug follows, awkward and odd in the moment, but you're at a loss, really. You don't want to do this; you have to.

[ jack attacks akira, glaive ]

wIRgj4GloUglaive

[ 8.5 + 1 blades ]

glaive

[Cait]

Elle is abrasion, tough love and harsh words and just what I need to pull me out of my self-pitying stupor. Maybe it’s simply because she has something to lose if I’m not at the top of my game, but twenty minutes with her cutting down my fragile walls of sadness are enough for me to realise I need to build stronger foundations.

It starts with a proper night’s sleep. The first time in this Arena I may have slept through the whole night. And although the fatigue in my bones hasn’t eased up – too deeply embedded in my programming to fully dissipate – I feel different. Fresh. Alive.

Hungry.

I like to think there’s some stronger bond between us now, but maybe it’s just my naivety calling out for a friend, a companion. It’s okay. I’ll take what I can for the moment and worry about the consequences later.

We trek through unexplored territory, following a path of flickering flames into a grand hallway which yawns open into a moody library. It’s probably a trap. Probably. But the damp, dark corners of the room are so inviting that I can’t help but follow Elle like a lost puppy, my concerns a thousand miles away –

– come crashing back down in an instant.

We’re not alone. Of course we aren’t. It would be just our luck to run into the same pack of murdering thugs three days in a row, and I’m already brandishing my weapon in anticipation, a new hunger like fire in my belly. Ready, finally, to avenge Fenrir and Nicoli.

But it’s worse still, because I have no clue who the two strangers in front of us are.

Mother probably would have ridiculed me for being so ill-prepared, but up until now I haven’t needed prior knowledge of my enemies. I wonder if Elle knows their identities, but she doesn’t speak first, opting to listen instead to our surroundings.

I drop my weapon – only just – as I look across the room at the two new faces, careful to remain hidden by the darkness. The boy stands in a defensive crouch, true to our animalistic callings, whilst the girl just stares into the nothingness, straight-backed and stony-faced, all rosy cheeks and adrenaline.

No one speaks. Not at first, anyway. I think the girl says something eventually, but I’m all too aware of a stiffening Elle by my side to hear much of it.

“We have more company.”

Oh fucking hell, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

On cue, four new tributes emerge, stacked to the heavens with weapons and medkits galore. My heart sinks in my chest at the sight of their cocky grins. The wealth alliance. Part of me breathes a sight of relief at seeing Silver’s face – the only other familiar person in this place, like that will be enough to save us. If anything, her presence reminds me of home a little.

I raise my hand to wave at her, stupidly forgetting the time, the place, the imminent death around us. Her stoic face confirms what I need to remember: we are enemies now.

It should make me sad, the realisation that I’m losing yet another person in my life. But it doesn’t paralyse me like it did yesterday, or the day before, or even the day before that.

I think… it makes me feel stronger. Free. I’ve spent all my life on my own, knowing exactly what it takes to cultivate your own inner strength. Why should I run away from that?

One of the new girls curses out Elle for a while, and I roll my eyes at her little monologue, already getting a feel for the type of character she is.

It’s the second between a soft blink, the opening and closing of eyes, where she swings straight at Elle’s face.

And I come alive. I’m shoulder to shoulder with Elle, my beacon of light to pull me out of the darkness, the despair. I am a Bellisario. I am the new wave, unorthodox warrior that I’ve always been.

“Bad blood, huh? Need a hand?”

I’m swinging before the words have finished leaving my lips – true to form, impulsive as ever, and waiting for no one.

table by dars!

ace attacks katrina – glaive

NN6pSgaxk0glaive

deep gash on cheek – 8.5

glaive

[rook]

izzy rodríguez

Blood runs rich, a river of sin seeping through the dry earth, painting over ashen grey with vibrant streaks of red. A slender white shadow looms, eyes cast silver in the moonlight as we trek, ghosts on a pale horizon, drifting silently, slowly, soullessly.

The castle stands stark beneath the milky lunar glow. It is jagged and proud, with spires that twist and point at the sky and great stained glass windows, their once colourful illustrations now a desaturated blend, stories painted lost to time.

This place feels like a sanctuary now. Akira and I happened upon one another in the corridors of this forgotten structure, found comfort and safety in its walls. Maybe that's why we have gravitated back to it. Four walls and a roof seems a lifetime ago now.

As we navigate the rooms and hallways, and begin to refamiliarize ourselves with the bones of this creaking building, I begin to hum. I half-close my eyes and imagine that I'm patrolling the streets of Six again, watching the rooftops for reavers and grifters. It feels weird without a rifle on my shoulder, but a sword and shield and an anaemic looking companion are fine substitutes for now.

Dum-dum dee, dum-dum dee, dum-dum dee da da da dum.

The song is ancient to me. It fills me with a warmth, and a ghost of a smile lingers on my cheeks.

Oddly happy. Can't say why.

But then a voice breaks the deathly quiet.

"I'd hoped you were dead already," An animalistic snarl follows, and I catch the glowing amber of another wolf-person cutting through the darkness.

"We know better than to hope, though, don't we?"

I draw my sword, letting it half-twirl in my palm before gripping the hilt tightly. The wolf-girl doesn't move, staring Akira down. The exchange between them has me thinking they're acquainted - district partners maybe? I should have paid more attention to the replays. The time for small-talk is long gone, and there's a flash of silver and red, and Akira is knocked down.

The girl follows up, another vicious strike at the body of my ally. My partner. My blood brother. And I'm just standing, sword in hand, watching it happen. More bodies move in, more monsters emerge from the darkness, and I find myself retreating backwards, powerless to fight it.

"And I was having such a nice day..."

I clutch the sword tighter, the only thing that's real.

God damn it.

Once more unto the breach.




[Izzy attacks katrina, Ceremonial Sword]

bLQnAO074gsword

[3.5]

sword

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

He woke up shivering to howls in the dead of the night.

In his dreams, he had been the one who started the braying chorus. And in his dreams he was no longer part-wolf, part-human, but an animal completely, rushing through a dark forest, charging as winter leaves sailed past him, his feral eyes trained on a shadow ahead. It ran, and ran and ran, and yet he was the hunter here, master of the game, maker of the rules.

You don’t take your back on a wolf, not unless you want to feel its jaws around the nape of your neck.

Hot blood fountained into his mouth as his fangs made purchase, then tore the flesh even further. He growled victoriously. He drank up, gobbled down a strip of meat, and examined his now-dead prey. He paused. A second, two seconds, an eternity really, before a spike of recognition lanced him from head to toe.

“Ma,” Andal whispered around the dryness in his throat.

But wait, no. He felt strangely sated, the thirst no longer pinpricks at the back of his mouth, the hunger no longer a gaping need … his heart became ten sizes smaller. He looked around, felt the slickness coating his hands, and had the grim knowledge that he was searching for bodies.

Dark hair, strong build, or short hair, scrawny frame.

He found them. Andal watched for a moment with baited breath, and let out a crashing sigh of relief once their chests rose and fell. He also saw where the blood on his hands may have come from, grimacing at the husks of what were once bats. A black taste lingered in Andal’s mouth even after he swallowed.

You should be glad. If he’d somehow went on a rampage last night, it would have been good, yea’? Less guilt. Perhaps if they atone him back home, he could even go along with it, indoctrinate himself to believe that whatever evil deeds he had done here were orchestrated by some monstrous entity within him. That it wasn’t him but something other.

That wasn’t the truth, though. On most mornings, Andal woke up wanting – besides all else – to live.

Not all mornings, but most. He wanted to live to see the sunrise again, or the sunset even. He wanted to live to open the radio at midnight, pop open a can of beer, and stargaze. He wanted to live to cook for Ma, take his sister to her first day of kindergarten with a homemade lunch. He wanted to live to invent odd trinkets, to read ancient books, to dig up forgotten relics. But mostly, he wanted to live for the hell of it, reasons be damned.

For the first time in a small forever, Andal reached into his bag and fished out the fragment. It was smooth to touch as always, intricately detailed, and it gleamed once, then twice, as he turned it this way and that. He held it within his fingers, and after a pause, made a fist around it.

When his hand unfurled, he let the broken pieces of the fragment fall away to the dirt.

I make history.

History does not make me.



Silver’s presence put him on edge. The girl was too quiet, too much akin to the wispy one who was with Chiara but trained enough that you couldn’t look away from her. He remembered how she slayed the girl from Six and fought off a shiver, opting instead to hold his cross necklace. Silver couldn’t be exorcised, though. She was a quiet haunting, the sort that you don’t make stories about because it scares you to your bones.

They’d all make good campfire tales. Every one of them was perfect for it, really.

Another itch wiggled under his skin. Someone should really sponsor him a flea bath. The itch was odd, though, more internal than not. And he noticed that it always came with a wave of hunger on its heels, making him feel more miserable in tandem. Andal kept quiet, soldiered on.

But once he saw the castle again, his eyes were sparkling.

“Like really, the architecture!” he marveled openly. During the bloodbath it was more a hazy memory, a part he hadn’t truly acknowledge, and he was glad he did now. The scrollwork, the masonry, the high ceilings, they all come together to build a grand sense of wonder that turned him to a child in a candy store. He whispered about the techniques they used for the stained glass, the lacquer. Jack was spared from an awful fate of having her ear talked off by Silver’s sudden tensing.

His hair rose on its ends, eyes narrowing to slits. The smell flooded his senses, tugged him onward before he even thought to move. Everything was instincts: the searching, the prowling, the hunting …

They found themselves in a library. Books with gilt spines that he would have once pored over now only obstructed his eyes from his quarry. They were here. He could smell them. Taste them, even. Andal licked his lips.

The itch returned, almost buzzing like an insect under his spine now and-

A sharp pain lightning-bolted through his back. He doubled over, fell to his knees growling, and the pain intensified tenfold as he felt what could only be described as a skin-ripping agony. He balled his hands to fists, which became a mistake once a piercing pain tore through them also. He straightened his spine to feel it as stronger, iron instead of bone, and he looked down at his new claws, each one as sharp as a blade-edge. Some growth spurt, huh. 

The itch consumed him.

Every part of him was full of it, made by it. Worse, though, was how he knew what he needed to do to scratch it now.

Andal’s last few vestiges of humanness conjured up the image of a wild barn dog as he fell in step with Katrina. “Howdy’,” he greeted toothily, "y'all need a partner?" then he swung his scythe.

[ Andal attacks Elle| Glaive ]


GyC38goIlbglaive

13014 -- Deep Gash on Neck -- 10.0 damage (Glaive) + 1.0 damage (Blades)

glaive

[gamemaker kelsier]

I learn in the night that his name was Finn.

The boy I drank, I mean.

Part of me hoped that with feeling back in my veins, sleep would come too but no such luck on that one. I just sit there, back against a pew in the chapel as Izzy sleeps. I wonder if she dreams.

I used to take all of these different pills, washed them down with vodka, just so I could turn my dreams off. Now I think I might be going a little crazy without them. Think I’d do anything to have a dream again.

It's somehow worse knowing his name.

I sit there, watching Izzy eat breakfast and get ready for the day. We don’t talk much but there was another face in the sky last night, that Kiko girl, from Six too. I want to ask Izzy if she knew her.

But would I care if it was Jack’s face in the sky last night? Or would I just be grateful that I wouldn’t have to kill her just to leave this place, but I don’t know the answer to that. See, I think I kind of like it in here.

The thirst is back already, came with the sky lightening, sunlight briefly pushing through the broken stained glass window before being covered with grey cloud again. I watched it inch towards me, waiting patiently for it to hit my shoe, wondering if I was about to burst into flames.

Then the clouds came, hoarding all of the golden light for themselves and I looked up towards the beams holding the ceiling up again.

”Thanks,” I said.

”What?” Izzy asked, pausing in packing her bag to look at me.

”Nothing.”

The path leading up to the castle is the same as I remember it, dirt road wide enough for two under a tunnel made from the tree canopy. It’s different though like this, more alert, a little less half dead. It’s almost kind of beautiful.

The entrance hall still has those enormous statues guarding the place but I already got their treasure from them. Izzy never gave me back that shield but I never asked for it either, I don't think I ever would have used it anyway. I smile a little to myself, wondering if any tributes have tried to answer their riddles and gotten nothing at all.

We walk in silence awhile, poking around the wing of the castle we didn’t get to yet. There are grander rooms on this side, a ballroom collecting dust, some sort of meeting room and a dining room that makes me think of the one at home.

I pause at that thought, home. My fingertips run through the dust on the aged oak table, I don’t think that I’ve thought about Nine since I left there, I’ve had no reason to. I haven't even really thought about tomorrow, if Izzy will still be here, if I will.

I don't think I can leave here.

Izzy starts humming something and I listen for a few minutes quietly, pushing the nail of my middle finger into the pad of my thumb so hard that for a moment the thirst settles.

”You’ve got a nice voice,” I say idly, voice loud in the quiet of the massive library we’ve found ourselves in. Books line the walls, their spines cracked and covered in dust. Some are stacked on old wooden tables, others just in piles on the floor in front of the bookcases, as if there wasn’t enough room for them even though half of the shelves sit empty.

Weak light jus barely trickles in through large glass windows set into the wall but the panes are so dirty that it’s impossible to make out any shapes through them.

I stand in the massive fireplace at one end of the room for a moment, tall and wide enough for me to have plenty of room. When I looked up through the chimney though all I see is darkness.

No way out.

I used to do this at home, explore all the little nooks and crannies of that big house I grew up in, finding passages that I knew my dad had no idea existed. I used to do this all alone, for hours, seeing how far away I could get from my parent’s shouting until I didn’t hear anything at all.

I think that if I could, I’d probably stay here forever exploring with Izzy.

I don't think that she'd stay with me.

Another door, one we didn't come through, creaks open and I turn on my heel, eyes falling on a pack of four tributes. I try to move to where Izzy is, but it feels like I'm moving so slowly, like wading through mud. I open my mouth, my weapons stowed in my bag, out of reach. "Iz-"

The wooden stake is in my thigh, a girl attached to it, just as fast as I am if not faster. This one hurts and I gasp, choking on the air circulating through my lungs thanks to Finn. I don't think I've felt pain since I died, every cut, every slice before this has been muted, dulled by my body's death. Finn's blood seeps from the wound, ruby red pearls soaking the leg of my pants.

This I feel, the pain radiates out quick, like lightening and my hands instinctually go to my leg, nails clawing at the wood, trying to pull it out.

"Izzy?" I gasp, turning my head frantically to look for her but she's not there.

"I'd hoped you were dead already."

I turn back to look at the doorway, "Jack?"

My district partner is standing there, a scythe in her her hand, like she's death herself. I know what's coming, I can tell by the way her body has already resigned herself to the action. I can tell by the way she's looking at me in that way I hate to be looked at. Pity, such a dull fucking blade, I grit my teeth in annoyance.

"We know better than to hope, though, don't we?"

Rhetorical question but I answer anyway, "Hope? For a kid from Nine? Don't make me laugh," I spit, pushing myself backwards.

Again, I'm not fast enough, again Izzy isn't there. The blade cuts into my arm, raised as if I can block it with my body but Finn's blood has made me too human, too weak again.

I cry out in pain, this time the sharpness drawing a line of red against my bare arm, spilling blood out onto the fresh new shirt I only got last night.

And I try to tell myself that just because we're both from Nine it doesn't mean anything. I tell myself that Izzy is here somewhere, she didn't leave me but I knew this was coming. Every single fragile alliance through history has always come apart at the seams, I was just letting myself be foolish.

"Whatever," I smile, revealing my fangs, "I knew, from the moment we got off the train together you were a backstabbing bitch."

Warning, this bitch bites.

[akira attacks jack, teefs]
25wlrBApwGknife
[miss]

accuracy
[akira attacks jack, teefs]
knife
[8 + 1 blades]

knife·knife

[ryan]

breathe.

she has had a hard time getting cantara out of her head since they had shared a moment together. elle knew that she was dangerous, she proved that to her. however, this tender moment had told her everything she needed to know about cantara. she was a confused girl that did not know if what she was doing was the right thing. the sad part about it, is that elle did not know if it was the right thing either. she was told and trained to do otherwise, and these serums, the questions that cantara posed had made elle think just enough. she meant what she said about the serums. they were now true versions of themselves. monsters through and through. their insides matched their outsides, and the sad part, the capitol is the very reason why they are reintroduced to themselves like that.

they shared a few more minutes together, there was a respect that was built between them, and elle could walk away from the interaction thinking that maybe there were some decent people in this arena. it was unfortunate that only one of them could make it out alive. however, she had to accept that. they share one more look at each other, and elle for once, smiles. the first time she had done that in the arena.

she meets back up with ace, and thats when she noticed that there is a certain amount of sadness written all over their face. the air was tense in the hiding spot that elle had picked out for them, and she never really pegged someone like ace to throw a pity party for themselves. elle clicked her tongue in disappointment, not here to coddle, but instead, encourage just enough to bring them back to the reality of the situation. nicoli was gone, but they were still here. that was just the truth of the matter. there wasnt any new information that had been introduced to them in real time. elle had made peace with the fact that only one of them could survive.

that was the reminder that she gave ace, and while it was blunt, it was direct enough, and came from a place that was realistic. after all, both of them had trained for this. they were raised by this idea that only one of them could make it out. they would never be lucky like the children selected for the 80th games. there was no point in throwing a pity party when only one person was going to attend. that info was shared by elle in a way that got ace to overcome their sadness. they could now focus on tomorrow and the next day, for as long as they both lived.

---

elle had stood tall when the "morning" time came. the only difference was that the moon had been its brightest in hours. she got a little bit of rest, thinking about what it would be like to make it out of here alive. she looked to ace, who also seemed to rise around the same time. it was like they had been insync with each other. it was weird, elle knowing well that she did not want to trust another career, was now in a situation where she had interacted with two of them and found them to be decent people. she didnt want to think about meeting the other ones that had survived the bloodbath.

ace and silver were enough.

they walked away from the waterfall and decided that they needed just enough distance from cantara and whatever the gamemakers had been planning. a rest day would have been appreciated, just for them to get the chance to catch their breath. she knew that would not happen though. the air was tense, and she could taste the despair in the arena. seeing nicoli in the sky was not easy for ace, but they were able to overcome their doubt. in a way, elle was proud of them. together they had to be powerful. they had to take care of each other now.

they had to survive until they had to kill each other.

they ended up finding a castle, one that seemed like it was fitting for someone like elle. the trope was enough to make elle think about crass comments, but was there really a point? elle shook her head as she pointed to it and suggested that maybe they needed to head that way. maybe this was the gamemakers shoving them into danger, but at the end of the day, they were careers. its in their blood.

elle and ace both looked around to their own amusement, the castle large and daintily decorated but also dilapidated at the same time. elle kept her eyes peeled as she led the way, holding out her axe as she kept a look out for tributes. at this point, it was bound to happen. while there was no real differential between day and night here, elle counted in her mind each time the moon shined just a little brighter than usual. it felt like they were centuries in, while in actuality they were only about five days in. she spots large doors all around the halls, but the ones that interest her the most is the huge double doors. the gamemakers might as well have put big flashing neon signs right in front for everyone to see.

"here." elle said to ace softly as she pulled on the handle and the doors split open just enough for both of them to slip in. there was no being coy at this point, it was game time, and with a nod, elle and ace both knew that this was their time to thin out the competition together. she looked up to see two other tributes already in the library, the girl from six and the boy from nine. the moment they ran forward, elle had noticed that they were not alone. four more people entered the fray, and of course, two of them she had to know. she saw silver and her eyes began to gleam just a little. however, all of that came to screeching halt when her own district partner had began to shout gibberish at her.

"happy to see your alive still silver." elle spoke calmly as ace had stopped just a little ahead of her. "oh? me?" elle turned her attention to katrina, who she remembered vividly from the bloodbath punching her when she didnt need to. apparently she had beef, and to be quite blunt, elle knew everything that she already needed to know about katrina. "boohoo." elle's sarcastic tone is like a rock hitting a drum. "and whats it like volunteering for someone you love and dying anyway?" elle did not need to use her weapon to cut deep.

that comment earned her a slash from whatever weapon katrina had been using. ace came to her defense right away, their glaive slashing at them and drawing enough blood to make elle salivate. "you always know when to step in ace." she takes a step back and looks back at katrina. "the other girls back in four were right about you..." elle is pondering what her next move is going to be, which weapon she is going to use, how this is all going to work out. "... youre just another stuck up bitch who thinks they were too good for anyone." the girls of four were cruel, and elle had also faced the blunt end of their scrutiny. the difference was... elle didnt hide it. katrinas "heroic story" didnt mean shit to anyone else. a delusion created by herself to justify drawing blood on the only piece of home she had here.

the girl from six stepped in, her blade slashing at katrina and elle for one was slightly overwhelmed. too many moving parts for her liking. "were you really ever going to have a normal day here six?" elle said plainly, ace at her side just long enough for her to start calculating her next course of action. right when she was about to act, she felt a blade cut through the group of people and trim right at the nape of her neck. the blood flowed marvelously, and elle realized that she needed to find a better vantage point. she saw the ten stick out from the attackers uniform, and she thought about the other boy from ten that had just taken nicoli's life. maybe this was a sign, maybe this was time for revenge. "cheap shot."

she looked at silver for a moment, "i thought you would at least pick better allies." elle stumbles backward and felt her back touch a ladder that led to the top of a bookcase.

bingo.

her hands move without second thought, adrenaline coursing through her veins. "cover me ace." she called as she had gotten up most of the latter and looked back down. she had still not fired her crossbow since she had picked it up, and the height she was able to get was enough for her to realize that an aerial assault might be her best chance at evening the playing field. she stepped on top of the bookcase and pulled out her crossbow. "only one of us gets to make it out katrina..." elle is hungry for a kill. "... lets see how much collateral damage we can take with us." elle is furious and her eyes lock on the boy from ten.

"by the way buddy..." elle cocked the crossbow. "... im talking about you." she presses the trigger and lets all hell break loose.

[kaitlin]

[Elle Aye D4A attacks Andal Searley D10B with her crossbow | (Bow)]
OqAYzYWKZIbow
[4148 -- Arrow Deep in Stomach -- 9.0 damage
(Bow)]

bow

[revel latimer, 11b 🔍 jay]

S I L V E R S T R A U S S

The silence erupts.

In the momentary second your stake digs into the skin of the blur, their flesh squishing and folding around the serrated edge, the air in the room shifts. Pull on a string, unravel the room into a palpable chaos around you. From holding baited breath, waiting for the quiet to apex, to adorning their bloodstained weapons in their calloused hands.

You twist your eyes to the blur, the whisper in the shadows, the creak in the floorboards, the one you tracked down here. It's a boy — his skin a muted grey like an overcast, almost decayed, akin to the girl you killed the other day. The blood runs thick from his leg, gushing, in streaks of crimson and streaks of sienna. One reeks of him and the other doesn't, it's strange. Jack appears at your side, stony-faced, a walking shadow, she speaks to the boy as though she knows him. Her district partner, it seems. Her words are followed by a sense of melancholia, and you understand, in a way, it's the only part of home she has left in here.

Silver.

Your ears perk up at the sound of your name, tearing through all the other noise. You turn to see Elle with Katrina like a hound at her throat, you hadn't seen her in days, since the beginning, really. I thought you would at least pick better allies, her words ring out in your head. You look at her with knowing eyes, a pang of guilt filling out the hollow of your chest, the predator in you slipping away, slightly, but you turn away, breaking from her gaze. It's how the world works in here, you can't save everyone.

You set your eyes, refocusing, back on the boy.

He's left two gaping holes in Jack's legs, lines of red trailing down her pale skin. His lips twist into a depraved grin, revealing dagger-like fangs, blood dripping off his tooth onto his cracked lips, like water on a stalagmite. Something swells in you, something primal, you bare your teeth at his own as to say I've got fangs of my own.

silver attacks akira / stake (knife)

zpKPQy6iPAknife

[ 3.5 ]

knife

[charade]

Caught up in my bloodlust I left myself open to being caught in the open. It’s not a good position, having two enemies on either side of the pack. But we can take them all on, same as we took on the plastics. They aren’t even as dangerous. A pale kid from nine that wishes he was as deadly as Jack. My lame ass district partner.

And—huh.

Three pairs of district partners on opposing sides. Suddenly I get why the gamemakers engineered this. Got to keep the gamblers on the edge of their seats. I get it, the viewers want a show and there just ain’t been enough. A cannon fires in the distance and I hope it wasn’t someone that I’m planning to kill; emphasis on the plan.

There’s a frustrated fire underneath my skin and it’s not just because Ace just tried to take my face off.

“I actually felt that.” I growl, holding a hand to cheek and watching as it comes away sticky with blood.

My blood.

This is going to be a bitch to stitch up, but on the bright side, it’s going to leave a badass scar. Oh yeah, I’ll be leaving it. Something I never understood about some of the victors I saw growing up. Getting post-games surgery, cloned limbs and shit. I have to respect the oldass victors for wearing their scars like badges of honor. Sure maybe they would have done different if the tech existed back then, but I like to imagine they wouldn’t have.

But the cheek wound aside, the fire lighting me up is because despite taking the wealth, despite nabbing the highest training score, despite getting turned into a 6’1 wolf monster, we are five days into the games and I don’t have a single tribute kill under my belt. It’s fuckin’ embarrassing. My highlight reel is going to be motherfuckin’ empty at this rate. If I’m gonna act like a hot-blooded force of nature, fuck me, I need to actually back it up. Have to walk the walk to go with talking the talk, you feel?

All the books in the room get me to ruminating for a second, even in the middle of the fight. Gotta be a history book or two on the shelves. I wonder what my great-great aunt Alicia would have thought about my progress thus far. She made it about halfway in the 1st games, one of the last child soldiers of the rebellion to see the front lines. Tossed into an arena back when it was just a bloodbath that kept going until only one person was left standing.

Don’t misunderstand, I ain’t doing this for her. I mean, fuck, it’s her fault and my great-great-great-grandparents fault that the Sykes name means fuck all in district four. All our assets seized. I heard Grandpa cursing them out on more than one occasion. We used to be somebodies. Now, I don’t want to fuckin’ be a brainless airhead from old money like the Frays they keep tossing in the grinder of the years, but shit. A little cushion in life sure would have been nice.

That’s why I got to do this, you see.

Not for my sister either. For me. That cash prize on the other side of this is owed to me. I put in the work. I’m doing my best dammit.

Someone cuts my arm and I snarl, spinning on my heel to look at the offender. It’s the normal girl. The one that was on the other side of the room. Shouldn’t she be helping her little boytoy over there? I glance back. Silver and Jack have him cornered. Maybe she’s written him off as a lost cause. Maybe she thinks if she can cut her way through the rest of us she can escape intact.

I squint, trying to place her district. Middle I think. Process of elimination says six. Five is the broody ass and geek girl. Seven has Fawkes and the boy that died the other day. She’s not the only one that comes this way. Andal, looking more beast than I and less human than anyone buries his scythe in Elle’s neck. He spits out a hick district ten greeting through his growing teeth.

“Howdy?” I repeat in mock disbelief. “People really say that outside of vids?” But I grin, growling and pulling myself up to my full height as my gaze at the normal girl narrows to be almost as sharp as my sword. Not sure what her problem is; but I can smell the fear.

Must be tough being the only non-transformed tribute in the arena. No teeth, no claws, no extra hair, no thirst for blood. Don’t know why she’s getting weak knees now though. Ain’t she watched the same games on tv growing up as the rest of us?

You don’t need to look like a monster to be one.

“If you’re that eager to die,” I snarl at six, “I’ll get to you in a moment.”

She’s on the list now, I think as I turn towards Elle.

Never come between a predator and their prey.

Oh, this should be rich, I think as Elle begins to speak. And it’s the same tired spiel I’ve been hearing all my life, but with a twist. She thinks I’m a rich career. Goddamn. Move over Fray, this one’s just taken your spot as the most head empty tribute in the arena. In one breath she names me outsider and implies I chose to stand apart from the cliques in four out of the pride of thinking I was better.

“Y'all made it clear I wasn't a part of the cliques.” I growl. "I earned this all by myself. I wouldn’t expect someone who relies on her daddy’s money to understand that.”

But the time for talk is over. She climbs a ladder and fires her crossbow into Andal’s gut, prattling about collateral damage as the bloodlust overtakes her. I shrug and follow after her, thinking about what she said and how she must have expected it to hurt. It might have if I cared about saving Julie for Julie's sake.

She's right about one thing. Sure would make the next few days easier if all of my pack's opponents died here and now.

Collateral damage? I shake my head. Honey, did you not realize that's exactly what you are?

Katrina attacks elle; sword

0nnc8EP_Fasword
1053 -- Stabbed in Forearm -- 8.5 damage + 1 blades + 1 Rivalry

sword

[sidney]

J A C K   P R I C E

Akira bears his fangs, a twisted up look on his face when he can't find his ally, and then he sinks his teeth into the flesh of your leg. It's excruciating, damn near unbearable. But the look on his face was pure bliss, your blood dribbling down the corners of his mouth. Like a gluttonous child with a bar of chocolate between his grubby hands, melting down his face just to stick and cling to his skin. You haven't tasted blood just yet. You wonder if it's as good as he's making it seem, if you actually taste that good. Of course you fucking do. Look at you, a goddamn goddess. There was nothing that serum hadn't improved. Your skin glowed, albeit even paler than before, but it nearly glistened. Your hair had grown five whole inches, nails thickened, brows filled out. You even swear your cheekbones rose a few millimeters, now perfectly carving across your face in a way Capitolites would pay thousands for. So perhaps it wasn't a long shot that the crimson that coursed through your veins had been lathered in honey, drenched in sugar cane, and absolutely delectable.  It didn't make watching Akira lick at the sides of his mouth hungrily any more easy to stomach.  You kick him off like the feral little beast he is, swatting him away as you try to regain your footing. "Could you not, like, eat me?" It's only half disgust, though. Because you're curious; you're starving. It's been days since this hollow feeling in the depths of your gut has made a home there, and absolutely everything you've  tried to consume in this fucking place has been regurgitated onto the floor. You haven't tried blood yet. The mere thought made you queasy, honestly. But there was a twinge of hunger - which was a lie, if you told the truth. It was more than that. It felt endless, like a void that just wanted to consume, and consume, and consume. It frightened you, what would happen if you got your first taste. You're unsure whether you'd be able to stop. "Get the fuck off me!"  Suddenly you wanted to taste like absolute shit. You wanted to be poison on his tongue, churning in his stomach like magma. You wanted to burn him from the inside, watch him turn into dust right before your eyes. Unfortunately, if that was a power from this transformation, you had yet to unlock that potential. Instead, you dust yourself off with a narrowed glance, keeping a keen eye on Silver and whether or not she's pulling her punches now that those who gather around us have acknowledged her. Even gone so far as to insult the company she keeps. You huff at that, chest puffed out in an indignant sort of way, but your eyes don't leave your target. I knew, from the moment we got off the train together you were a backstabbing bitch. What the fuck! You're a goddamn treat and this fucker won't ever convince you otherwise. "Well, you're a catty little fucking cunt." You grip your scythe and swing out again in his direction, praying for contact - for him to just shut. the. fuck. up. once and for all. "This is why I left you with her." A nod in the girl from Six's direction as she wields a sword aimed at Katrina. "Cause I can't fucking stand you!"

[ jack attacks akira, glaive ]

zGTd_Qqo2Tglaive

[ miss ]

[ - accuracy - ]

[ jack attacks akira, glaive ]

glaive

[ 3.5 ]

glaive·glaive

[Cait]

filler.

table by dars!

ace attacks katrina – glaive

sdsLrUmZkuglaive

glaive

[rook]

izzy rodríguez

The tributes frenzy. It's a bloodbath, the stone walls sprayed rich with scarlet tones as tooth meets bone and claw rips flesh. There's no humanity left in this room, not an ounce of what we once were. Monsters to the core, tearing eachother apart.

I stand panting, my silver sword edged with a red trim that drips at my feet. Cold eyes look back at me, sharp teeth bared as the girl snarls at me.

"If you're that eager to die, I'll get to you in a moment."

I'm the only normal one here - the only person not genetically altered by the gamemakers serums. To them, I'm just a meal or a quick kill. I stand firm, my response just as animalistic.

"Then get out of my way, dog." I warn her, moving past her cautiously and shifting towards my partner.

I follow his shouts as several other tributes try to take him out.

"Akira! Hold on! I'm coming!"

I have to fight my way through.


[Izzy attacks Silver, Ceremonial Sword]

7gDa4rAs|Jsword

[Severed Right Ear -- 8.0 damage]

sword

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

Gotta keep the ball rollin! Filler #1

[ Andal attacks Elle | Glaive ]


KHV2nkHa4lglaive

13063 -- Severed Right Leg at Hip -- 10 damage (Glaive) + 1.0 damage (Blades)

glaive

[gamemaker kelsier]

I’m glad I’m not the only monster in here.

Strange thought, with my teeth dug into the thigh of a girl I met last week. Not the first time I've been caught like this, could be the last. Jack's blood fills my mouth and slips down my throat into the gaping maw of the thirst that's become as much a part of me as my own heart.

That somehow manages to ache more.

Her blood isn't like how Finn's was. His was vibrant, like a poem in my mouth, the only way I can think to describe it is that he tasted of life. He was half human by the time Izzy took him down but at least he was still alive. With him I couldn't stop even if I wanted to, I needed him.

The loss of control that I felt last time I drank is dormant, Jack's blood has no draw to it, there's no comparison. I wrinkle my nose against her cold dead skin and pull back. "You've not eaten," I say flatly and wipe the back of my hand against my mouth. If Finn's blood was life and the flow of it, all that flows within Jack is hell and the river that you take to get there. Her blood is rancid.

"You taste like a grave, Price."

I push myself backwards, away from both her and the wolf girl who struck first. All I'm doing is buying myself time at this point, I know that. Finn's blood is running out from under my skin like spring melt, never mine in the first place anyway. I probably have minutes before death tries to take me once again.

And I still don't know where Izzy is. Stupid for me to even look for her maybe, I was the one who told her she was going to betray me, I knew it even before the lake told me.

It's just what happens, I always end up with a knife in my back. I'm a child still but I've known the end of a blade enough times to make trusting anyone difficult for me.

But I'd be lying if I said I didn't let myself trust Izzy.

Blood oozes from Jack's leg and I grin at her even as she spits angry little things at me. I like that better than the regret in her tone from earlier, the falsehood of owing me anything just because we came from the same place. I don't need fragile ties like that, lighter than silk, torn so fucking easily.

At the sight of Jack's blood, the girl from two bares her fangs at me and swipes at my side with the wooden stake. I can tell she's angry at me, not sure why when she's the one who started all of this. It was moments ago when I was standing there in the silence of the castle, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

”Didn’t like that?” I whisper. The stake drags along my skin, drawing red beads in its wake but the feeling is already dull again. As Finn’s life leaves me, as death folds me in again, the numbness comes back, rising.

I didn’t realize how much I hated the feeling of nothing so much, I never let myself have clarity back home. It's useful here though, makes it easy to stare right through them, as if I'm not part of this moment. As if I can keep my stupid little heart from breaking.

My hand wraps around Two's wrist and I pull her towards me. Both girls have gone odd in their beauty, Jack with her perfect, eternal look, like she's had a stylist in the arena with her every day and then Two, sideburns running onto her cheekbones, hair soft beneath my palm. "What, she your little attack dog, Price?" I ask.

Maybe I should have been smart like her, aligned myself with a career in the training centre. She tells me that she ditched me, left me to Izzy as if the girl from Six had even been a choice.

I laugh, Two still held tight in my grasp.

"As if I'd want to have spent the last five days with you," I sneer. I just say it to be cruel. Jack wasn't bad on the train, we got along okay all week in the training centre but there was never even a question of if we'd work together. I wasn't going to work with anyone, hell, I didn't even have a plan.

I just came here to die and I did.

Izzy finds me, her shoulder knocking into me. I can hear her heart pumping, see the pink rising up out of her collar, the exertion she's putting out, the beads of sweat at her hairline, the places on her body where her cuts have opened once again.

"Izzy," I breathe and I fucking hate how relieved I sound. "Took you long enough," I mutter but that's nothing new. When she's not spearing a kid through the chest, she's always behind me.

Watching my back.

Jack's glaive comes down again and it bites into my skin, drawing forth more of Finn's blood. The hunger is growing, scraping at my insides, hollowing me out so sharply that it's getting hard to think again.

So I just don't.

I tug Two's wrist up to my mouth and I bite.

[akira attacks silver, teefs]
XRL8tjeG9Lknife
[3.5]

knife