Takin' Care of Business [Bog Friends Day 5]

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

I t z a l

Well, you're an untamed youth
That's the truth with your cloak full of eagles
You're dirty, sweet and you're my girl
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on

I “There’s good and then there’s right, isn’t there?”

When night had fallen and we’d nursed our wounds, I’d gone back around again to what we’d been talking about before – that you couldn’t worry about the good or bad you did here, or maybe anywhere, the way things had been. If Mirage had hesitated for just a second, would Ivy have been the one alive today? And if I hadn’t stepped up as a volunteer, where would I have been then.

Probably wondering about my father, cursing him like he’d been the one to choose his fate. And maybe he had – marrying my mother, going out on the rig, staying when he knew the danger – but that didn’t add up to the accident that took his life. No one deserved to die, no matter the evil they’d done. And yet at the same time, didn’t he deserve to live? Didn’t I deserve to fight for what I wanted? To live, to die, in a place like this, we couldn’t choose for anyone else. We had to fight for us, to see another dawn so much as our bodies allowed it.

“I’m not going to beg for forgiveness if I get out of here, no matter what happens,” I said as I plucked at the shredded strands of fabric on my shirt. What use was it to cry over the kids who died yesterday or the day before? Their families could love them or leave them to rot, but I had a duty to keep on living. And for fuck’s sake, that was more an example than anything a victor could do for us, wasn’t it.

The bar sure was low when living like you wanted was the gold standard, huh now?

Mirage wouldn’t ever worry about that sort of thing. Kind of a blessing to have some who could cut through what every else called gray and see the black and white. She didn’t have to offer me comfort when the chill came over the mountains and I didn’t owe her a good word even when she’d been cut up to hell. We would live or die, and we weren’t about to sentimentalize what we had to do.

I’d gotten over my regrets, I think.

I couldn’t have gone my whole life without knowing what happened to my father, for one. No one would have told me the truth, so finding the capitol news report at least gave me a piece of closure I could hold onto. Now – could I have been happy in five, at least a little, for all the years I probably would’ve been live?

“We should double time at the base of the mountain. I bet we can get up half-way if we push ourselves.” I didn’t sleep as well as the night before, so I packed up my bag and was ready to fly just as the sky was shifting from purple to cerulean. After all the cannons yesterday, I had to believe people were trying to lay low.

We’d crept along the winding trail along the side of the mountain when the sunrose, though I didn’t look back. I kept huffing forward, one foot in front of the other, all spite and sour.

“Huh.” I let out all quiet, coming to a stop around a bush into a little outlook that had what looked like a tent someone tried to jerry-rig. I slide the Katana from my side and looked back at Mirage with a grin.

For the first few days, I’d been fight or flight just like the rest of them.

But that was stupid as it was boring. It left us open to attacks from tributes and mutts alike.

There were still far too many lurking around the edges of the arena for comfort. And the only way we could get to the end was for a whole lot of them to go.

I thought of the chickens in the winter. They’d been sick and dying and needed to be put of their misery.

So it was with whoever sat in that tent.

“Let’s make these fuckers squeal,” I grinned. I’d never felt stronger, letting go of the good for the right and becoming wicked for what was necessary.

I stalked close to the entrance of the tent and took a breath. I prayed Mirage didn’t see the momentary tremble of my hand before I forced my way inside.

“Time for your final wake up call, assholes!” That was a cool thing to say, right?

My sword held high I caught sight of the boys together and brought down my blade.

[Itzal Usoa attacks Johnny Scaletta d6 with his Katana (sword)]

ELEGANT

fNeQ6WuDupsword
[result: miss!]

accuracy, day 5:
sword
[result: 1066 -- 10 damage (Sword) -- Blades +1]sword·sword

[tick 12a / calla]

Dawn turns the inside of the tent a burnt rust sort of colour.

It's been an awkward night. After the horses had gone cold, Johnny propped Karl against a rock face and shoved his shoulder back into his socket and the pop of it was so loud that it send a roosting nest of birds above them spiralling.

Then the tent came into play.

Karl cradled his shoulder and slept as far to the side of the tarp as he could get. The cameras not being able to get them in there somehow made it worse. It felt like he was doing something he shouldn't.

But it cools down overnight. That's why when the scuffling jolts Karl awake, he finds himself just a little closer to Johnny that he remembers being. He blinks at the tarp roof for a beat, and then the shadow slants over the side.

It's like something from a terrible campfire story. Like those Games back in the late 80s that had the cabins and the canoes and the masks. Karl sits up so fast that his chest wound flares from it, and watches the silhouette of somewhere slowly pass by the tent, backlight by the rising sun.

He reaches over to poke at Johnny, drawn so tense that his bones creak.

"Johnny." He hisses at him, and there's so little reaction that Karl actually has to check that he didn't somehow die during the night.

He's alive, but his face looks awful. The horses smashed his nose yesterday, and you can definitely tell. The bruises are dark even in the dimness of the tent, taking up the whole centre of his face like he's just smeared green and violet watercolours over himself.

Aed tries to float up in his face and Karl bats the seelie away. The stupid thing is dim enough that it wouldn't be noticeable through the tarp, but still, it hung up in the corner all night like some kind of deranged owl, perched up and looking down at a mouse. Three days later and the thing still gives him the creeps, "Go away."

When Karl looks back towards the tent wall though, the silhouette is gone.

Maybe they never even noticed the little shelter. Maybe it was just an animal walking by, and his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Karl gingerly lowers his hands, heart still jackrabbit, and that's when all hell sort of breaks loose.

The tent flap flickers and then whips to the side like a sudden windstorm, someone is yelling, Karl scrambles and accidentally kicks something and Johnny's finally moving but Karl can't tell if it's because of his foot or the sword suddenly sticking out of his gut like a particularly large and shiny toothpick.

Shit.

"Shit."

Shit shit shit.

Karl grabs Johnny beelines it past their attacker like a shot, only stumbling when the whole tent comes down on top of the three of them. He keeps hold of Johnny like they're drowning, practically dragging him out from under the mess of tarp and ignoring the sudden blood gushing out of him because the most important thing is to get away, he can't do this again - "Go go go."

He yanks Johnny up with one hand around his wrist and tries to not grimace when the other boy winces. They can deal with it later, Karl will apologize then.

The boy with the sword is still lost in the tarp when Karl turns to get Johnny up the path.

There's someone already there.

It's like Calamity again. Like Yael. The pat-pat-pat of Johnny's blood hitting the rocks is so unbearably loud but Karl can't reach up to cover his ears because as soon as he lets of Johnny, that's it.

It's the girl from Nine standing in front of them. That terrible thing in Karl that's been building over the past four days starts to bubble over.

"Get out of the way."

table by kiah <3

karl attacks mirage | scythe (glaive)
NSbjMDS6THglaive
13049 -- Shallow Cut on Neck -- 4.0 damage

glaive

[Python]

It was interesting, to say the least - listening to Itzal convince himself to follow a strategy rather than a moral. The good and the righteous were mostly subjective, and forgiveness as a concept was completely worthless if one simply disconnected themselves from all of it. Itzal claimed he would not beg for forgiveness if he survived. Mirage had never considered it. Forgiveness for what? From whom? She didn't care what emotional people thought about her. They can create their narratives and choose to never 'forgive' her. As long as she was rich by the end of it.

"You shouldn't beg for anything," she added, a simple courtesy to continue the conversation. She didn't want to leave his words dangling and uncertain. She needed him to be confident, whether it was a false confidence or not. They had been together four nights now. He was stronger than he looked, and his psyche was sturdy enough...for now. A few days later and he'd probably be dead. That's how the game rolls.

A chill settled over the mountains like dust. It awakened her bones and hissed against the stitches on her skin, reminding her of every mistake and every failure. By the end of it, she would consider them war scars. Nostalgic, perhaps. But for now, they were a burden screaming against her skin. So goddamn loud.

She grunted when she heaved herself up. It was time to go, and Itzal wanted to clear the ascent quickly. Any complaint was a weakness on her part, so she silently nodded in response. Pain was necessary. If one can't take a hit, they can't get back up. A quick and pathetic loss in a fight. Fortunately, the streets of Nine were a training ground for future warriors - if one allowed warriors to fight dirty.

When they stumbled upon a tent, Mirage stifled a laugh. What a lucky find atop the mountains, and she didn't have to say anything before Itzal crept forward and ambushed them. What option was there but to attack? It would be such a missed opportunity, especially if the fools inside were asleep.

A chaotic mess unfolded. Itzal shouted at their opponents, and a panicked scramble caused the tent to drop onto their heads. Her katana was already out when one of the boys emerged. She was confident she would avoid decapitation, and merely stepped back to avoid his scythe. It nicked the side of her throat. Close call. It didn't faze her.

"Say 'please' and I'll think about it."

She lied and aimed for their souls.

[attacks johnny - katana]
7h5Y|B2E2Ssword
Shallow Cut on Left Forearm -- 3.5 damage

sword

[k!ah]

The bleeding had finally stopped overnight, but the searing pain was as hot as the moment that stupid donkey's foot had collided with my face. I groaned as I tossed and turned during the night, the inflammation in my nose so server that it had totally closed off the airway.

My stomach complained with each movement, each twist of a muscle, contraction of the fibres, sent pain shooting through me like electricity. It was about now that I wished Flynn would send me down a parachute with something to ease the pain, and not a mirror, or a fake gun. I didn't need to see my reflection to know that the skin beneath my eyes would be black, the bridge of my nose a bluish purple, that stretched down my cheeks.

When I finally fall asleep I am nearly pressed up against Karl, finding a sense of comfort in the warmth that radiated from his body. A distraction from the pain. As darkness takes over I surrender to sleep, to an escape from this game-

White hot searing pain has my eyes flying open, my mouth wide in a silent scream as my hands clutch the steel that protrudes from my stomach. My mind and soul are trying to catch up, my hands digging into the sharp edged of the blade that threatens to gut me, to rip open my insides. "K- Karl," I gasp, fingers sticky with blood, sliced open as the sword is ripped from my stomach, from my grasp.

The world moves too slowly and then too quickly.

There is a boy, my blood dripped from the end of his blade. He looks down on us with a smile.

Then time is moving to quickly. It's a blur of colours and shapes and Karls face, his mouth moves too slowly for this world and I am left staring up at him with my a-gap, still trying to put the pieces together. Karl has me by my the wrist, dragging me from the tent. I'm gasping for air, breathing through the pain that pulsed through me with intensifying pain with each pain beat of my heart.

Finally I start to catch up with the world, pushing myself to my feet, Karl still clinging to my hand, almost as though he was scared to let go.

Another tribute moves out into our path, and Karl growls at them to move, his blade raised. The threat falls on deaf ears, the girls face remaining calm, almost bored, when Karls blade nicks her neck. She barely pauses before she is closing in on us, on me.

She aims for my heart, and I block it, my arm catching her blade I knock it to the side with a hiss of pain.

Pulling myself together I reach for my Katana, forcing my lips to pull back into the characteristic grin that I wore so well. Though it didn't feel right, my face stiff from the swelling. "Yeah, nah," I aim the blade at her throat, trying to ignore the way it trembled slightly. The adrenaline mixed with blood loss was not an intimidating factor. "Hear that, Karl, Nine wants us to use our manners." My eyes dart to Karl, and I waited for the familiar, unnerving darkness to consume him, just like it had the day that Calamity was murdered.

"Say 'please' and I'll think about not killing your friend once we are done with you."

[ Johnny attacks mirage with katana ]
3KygrZFzwusword
[ 3.5 ]

sword

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

I t z a l

Well, you're an untamed youth
That's the truth with your cloak full of eagles
You're dirty, sweet and you're my girl
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on

M an, what a scene.

They weren’t head to toe like I guess I could've expect but body against body, tender like.

Gay?

I mean, the reaping bowl pretty much had marked an all out genocide against the alphabet mafia so, your guess was as good as mine.

Didn’t matter to me who’s hole they wanted or what they wanted to suck so long as my blade went right through that fucker’s stomach.

I put my weight into it, blade going in fast with the same sound as a frog getting dropped from a great height onto a rock. A splatter sort of noise that brought out blood and fear.

Probably shouldn’t have shouted out to them, though - that part was a dumbass mistake on my part but we had such an upperhand I thought this would end fast. How long could this kid go on running when my katana went almost clear through him like shishkabob?

The one that hadn’t been made into a human pin cushion shot up with a start and wrenched the kid that was bleeding out so hard I had to pull back, and along with it came my sword.

“Fuck!” I shouted out when my arm hit the tent pole and the whole thing started to collapse around us. The little lean-to swallowed us whole, and I started laying out a stream of expletives that probably would only get aired in late night replays. This was supposed to be my coming out moment, the one where no matter what happened I’d probably go down as a blood thirsty bastard, right? Forcing my way into their shelter with the express purpose of slitting their necks, I’d emerge with some sort of catch phrase like, Call me housekeeping ‘cause I just cleaned up! (ok - I’ll work shop that, I’m in the middle of fighting for my life all right?).

Worse, I couldn’t see through the mess, which meant that Mirage was left in a two on one situation.

And of course she’d be able to handle herself because she was fuckin’ Mirage. That part was never in doubt. It was more that I could already feel the pin prick of what she’d tell me afterwards, that not only had I let myself get tangled up in their tent, not having assessed the way they’d escape, but she’d had to do the job herself.

It wouldn’t be in so many words, probably something succinct like, why didn’t you just go and get your head cut off as stupid as that was?

I yanked the tarp out from over me and picked myself off a knee just as the kid from six started threatening Mirage.

“Hey Mirage, these chucklefucks aren’t even going to run.” I clucked my teeth. I pulled my bloody blade in front of myself and gave another grin. I hope they zoomed in on this one. “Hoss, you picked the wrong day to be brave. It’s gonna be the death of you.”

[Itzal Usoa attacks Johnny Scaletta d6 with his Katana (sword)]

[/b][/font][/font][/blockquote][/blockquote][/div]

[/div][/div]

ELEGANT

CFKp5MnVlWsword
[result: 1141 -- Miss]sword

[tick 12a / calla]

The scythe glides against the girl's neck gently, hushed like whisper, cutting more air than skin.

The way she just stands there has Karl's hackles raising faster than they have all week. She has the same dead eye stare that Yael did and he stands there gaping at her until she moves like a snake, jolting towards Johnny and forcing him to catch her blade with his arm.

Johnny's picked up his grandiose routine again while Karl tries not to vibrate out of his skin. He's laughing again, mocking them, but effect is diminished by the fact that his face looks god-awful in the light. It's scary, almost. Like something that lives under a kid's bed.

The buzzing is back in full force and Karl's ears fill with static, it's like there's an entire swarm of bees hiding somewhere nearby. He's burning slowly, the smoke starts to clog up his lungs, fuzzy noise is really just the crackling of a funeral pyre. It sits in his minds' eye like a great big dead thing and he can't blink because as soon as he does then it's going to get back up and they don't have time to run and Johnny's still talking.

The boy that stabbed him finally crawls out of the mess of the tent and Karl briefly starts to fantasize about reaching over and just smacking Johnny.

They could have gotten away.

But now he has to weather through this. Whatever this is. Because he hates the banter. He hates how easy it comes to everyone except him because while tent-boy cracks a one-liner, Karl is too busy trying not to dissociate from the sight of Johnny's blood all over his hands.

You picked the wrong day to be brave.

But he's not at all.

He's terrible and awful and something that shouldn't be alone at night. He freaks everyone out when they tell him to be quiet because he takes it to heart and stays silent for hours.

The only sound that comes from him is the thump-thump-thump of the heart sitting in his bag.

Or

in the tent.

In his bag in the tent.

In his bag on the ground under the collapsed tent, behind them.

Karl freezes then.

He promised he wouldn't leave without it.

He suddenly looks anywhere but the tent. He focuses on Johnny, who seems to be developing a serious problem with keeping his blood where it should be. He focuses on Tent-boy, but then reroutes so quickly that he nearly gives himself whiplash, because there's something in the way that he grins and the way that he speaks that echos and pushes against Karl's psyche like Dyno had.

That means he focuses on Path-girl instead. It hurts a little, more like standing in front of a blackhole than a supernova.

But he listens because that's what he's good at. He kissed Dyno because that's what he wanted. He tried to kiss Johnny because that's what he thought he wanted.

"Please leave." Karl gives in quietly, something jagged stuck in it. This wretched obedient little thing, this shell of a boy; he does what he knows.

You picked the wrong day to be brave. Tent-boy had told them.

Thump-thump-thump goes the heart under the tarp.

table by kiah <3

karl attacks mirage | scythe (glaive)
T9azSHT7f2glaive
13074 -- Shallow Cut on Left Bicep -- 3.5 damage

glaive

[Python]

There were a lot of men here that reminded Mirage of home. The type that talked themselves up like demigods on a pedestal. She blinked at the one named Johnny. She knew all of their names, and finally matched identity to face now that she could see them clearly. Her composure was a mask made of stone, even as Itzal struggled like an idiot behind them. An ambush was meant to be silent and well-executed. Now she was standing here with two blades in her face instead of one. Not impossible, but the odds were stacked against her until Itzal got his shit together. If he could.

"Say 'please' and I'll think about not killing your friend once we are done with you."

His blade did not touch her throat, but it threatened to. She noticed the tremble in his arm. "Hmm, I'm not convinced," she hummed. Karl looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, while his friend failed to act bloodthirsty. Or maybe he was bloodtirsty, and she was simply caught up in his incorrect assumptions. Friend. As if she'd care what happened to Itzal, especially if she was dead. The dead don't care about anything.

Inevitably, every Games had personalities like these. She had to count herself among them, because she thought of herself as more important than everyone else, but she knew she was less annoying about it. People like Itzal and Johnny talked too much.

Their blades found her arms this time, ribbons of red decorating her biceps. "I was lying, but thanks anyway," she said, taking a quick glance at the oh so polite Karl. If she wasn't intersted in killing and winning, she might've considered leaving. Too late for that. "What did you expect?"

[attacks johnny - katana]
UpvWeGuQJqsword
Deep Gash -- 8.0 damage + 1 blades

sword

[k!ah]

I could still hear the rustling and curses coming from the fallen tarp when I strike out at the girl from nine, my blade tracing a thin red line against her bicep. The momentum almost has me stumbling, but I catch myself, pulling my shoulders back, ignoring how the movement had my stomach screaming in reluctance, blood running down my legs, collecting on the cool stone beneath my feet.

I must have looked like a pathetic mess, and I wipe an arm along my forehead, sweeping my hair out of my face. The noises from behind had begun to quiet down, the boy finally managing to escape the tarp that had sent him down just as easily as his blade through my stomach.

“Hey Mirage," the boy starts and I hold back a sigh of annoyance as my gaze flicks over to him, my hand tightening around the hilt of my blade. I didn't know what it was about him, but just the sight of him had my jaw clench in annoyance. There was something about him that rubbed me the wrong way. It reminded me of when the teachers pet would continuously remind the teacher that we had homework due, even though they knew they were the only ones who did it. "These chucklefucks aren’t even going to run."

Maybe running would have been the right choice. Maybe I should have just grabbed Karl and taken off... But what was the point? If they didn't catch us, someone- or something- else would have and we would be fighting for our lives once again. At least with tributes their moves were more predictable. Their feelings provoked more easily.

My gaze flicks to Karls once again and then to Nine- I double take back to Karl, holding back a curse. The boy was looking super uncomfortable, his eyes darting from me to the tent to Nine and back. Shit. I take a step closer and his eyes land of Nine as he asks her one more time to leave.

She doesn't. Of course she doesn't. She didn't seem like the type to back down, no matter the odds. In fact, she barely even takes notice of Karl, instead focusing her attention back on me and I felt my shoulders tighten, my jaw clench, fuck this chick.

She lunges and her sword buries itself into my shoulder, just above my heart, just below my collar bone. I hiss in pain, grabbing her wrist with my blood stained fingers. "Bitch," I growl, I hold her and her blade there a moment longer, glaring at the girl the same way that Yael used to glare at me. Her blade broke through the skin on my back and we are standing so close now and the image of Yael and Dyno flash before my eyes, his sword in her chest and

I spit in her face.

It was kind of gross.

But liberating.

Ripping my shoulder from her blade I avoid the other boys advances, twisting away from his blade before thrusting it towards Mirage.

"We are all liars here."

[ Johnny attacks mirage with katana ]

FVF6obXm2|sword

[ ]

sword

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

I t z a l

Well, you're an untamed youth
That's the truth with your cloak full of eagles
You're dirty, sweet and you're my girl
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on

They don’t even pay attention to me.

All their focus is on Mirage, and rightfully so. Gravity has shifted here when even their blades come for her - they can’t pin her down, can’t help but be pulled into her orbit. Where I’m just another fly on the wall, a lackey, a kid who’s bark is bigger than his bite, especially after my blade swings wide against the boy from six.

Now it’s just anger.

Rage, really.

Not because I ever wanted to put someone in the ground for who they were or even what they did to me, but because these motherfuckers had to die, and it was going to be them, not us.

Maybe that was what got under my skin so much, was that it almost felt as though they knew I wasn’t going to be a long term threat, that they’d taken one look at me, even after my blade went clean through an organ or two, and said, well him, he’s nothing to worry about. They could see the genuine article in Mirage. They had to put her down here or she’d rise to the top just as she’d climbed this mountain riddled with scars and trailing blood.

Eleven practically begs for her to leave, for us to get, but Mirage wouldn’t have it. That sort of steely look that could freeze death in its tracks was on her face again, and it’s pathetic that he even asked. But that was lower district of him, to plead for some sort of resolution that could never be - they looked for answers where there weren’t any, praying like we weren’t a bunch of frogs left to boil in a pot.

Her voice came crisp, unrelenting.

Then her blade carried through to catch six and return the favor.

You could almost see the steam rise out of his ears after that, I’ll tell you, like the whole world had started to come crumbling down. Must’ve been why of all things he decided to spit in her face.

Rage, rage.

We were good at that, a bunch of kids who been pushed to the brink. You had to choose whether or not to collapse under the weight or harness all that bullshit into something powerful. It was eating him, the pressure.

“Heh.” I let out a laugh at his bitch.

“I was a liar long before I got here, man,” Kind of ironic to tell the truth that way but, “If this is the place that’s gonna make a liar out of you, maybe you don’t deserve to live anyway.”
Was that too harsh?

I guess that’s why so many kids were used up and turned to dust. The real ones took all that pressure and came out as diamonds. Names that could carry on and not fade, whether they gave a kid nightmares at night or came out as a martyr.

Mirage and me? We’d gone and decided exactly who we were and would be damned if these kids changed that.

[Itzal Usoa attacks Johnny Scaletta d6 with his Katana (sword)]

ELEGANT

2iKh_|pH3ssword
[return:1019 -- 9.5 damage -- +1 blades]sword

[tick 12a / calla]

"I was lying." The girl says.

Karl stares at the blood along her arms blankly.

He's not completely surprised. It doesn't sting - it was worth a shot, right? But the way she looks at him, like he was stupid for even trying, like that's made his worth go from zero to below-zero; that feeling burrows into him, wrapping itself around his organs like a lazy boa constrictor. The chasm of him tries to swallow it, but it's stubborn, and it lingers.

The pair barely even glance at Karl. They focus on Johnny instead and it's like being home all over again, or being on that train, or in those rooms. People just don't see him. He's the invisible boy; silent and self-aware and so unsure how to navigated.

"We are all liars here." Johnny spits at the girl, Mirage, and it takes nearly everything in Karl for him not to whip his head to the side.

It's the confession that really surprises him.

How many times has he thought he'd had Johnny figured out? How many times has that been uprooted and shaken?

But still, I'm trying, Johnny had said back in the forest. Karl had stayed because of that.

Now, Karl wants to yell and refute it because we're all liars - no. He's not. To his detriment, he's only ever lied to himself, just the once when the Keepers first came and he spent the first night watching the bog and he told himself that what was happening wasn't necessarily a bad thing. But he doesn't lie. Someone asks him a question, he answers it.

Someone attacks the person who isn't his friend, but could be, then he answers that too.

table by kiah <3

karl attacks mirage | scythe (glaive)
Z1F6wyEOdlglaive
13156 -- Deep Gash on Back -- 8.5 damage +1 blades

glaive

[Python]

He was met with an icy stare. When her blade buried itself in his shoulder, a breath's way from touching his heart, she stared at him the way she stared at most opponents - like they were pathetic and smaller than her. She was naturally that way with people when she focused hard enough. She could shut her emotions down and look at everyone through a lens of judgment, like a god striking down those who didn't worship her. She was convinced Gods weren't real, but that didn't stop her from acting like she was better than everyone else.

There is a tight grip on her wrist. She didn't know if it was an intimidation tactic, so she merely grimaced in response to the saliva hitting her cheek like a hot raindrop. Now he was angry with her. She was more disappointed that she had missed. A bleeding heart was an easy death. "We're all liars here," he said. Life lessons with Johnny. She didn't really care who lied and who didn't, as long as people believed her. That was a good enough position to hold.

She watched the blood gush over Johnny's torso like a violent waterfall as he wrenched himself from her katana. She used the dull side of its blade to wipe the saliva off of her cheek. A gentle motion, and a sharp contrast to all of her actions thus far. Itzal spoke again, talking about liars and who deserved to live. She didn't care if Johnny deserved it. She only cared that he died.

Her body screamed in pain, but she concealed it behind tight lips. In reality, her teeth were clenched hard enough that she might chip one of them to pieces if she wasn't careful. Despite how badly she was hurt, she always chose to ignore it. Any signs of weakness and Itzal might question her. If everyone believed she was strong and she could beat them, there would be very little reason to wonder how invincible she was. Mirage is Mirage, that is what she wanted others to believe. A monolith that couldn't be broken.

She always knew that when she did die, she wouldn't be screaming.

[attacks johnny - katana]
flSGPbw4iasword
Shallow Cut on Cheek -- 3.5 damage

sword

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

I t z a l

Well, you're an untamed youth
That's the truth with your cloak full of eagles
You're dirty, sweet and you're my girl
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on

I get one last good look at the son-of-bitch when my katana cleaves right into his chest. Wasn’t that long, but long enough for the blood to trickle down into the space between my thumb and fingers. Life literally draining out of him then, done for, but somehow still standing. Stubborn, which I could admire, and stupid, which I could hate.

No one could question me now, not even myself.

What were all those regrets when I’d raised my hand and stepped on that stage? I had been a total idiot wagering my life for this, and less this than to figure out whether or not my father would have ever made it back into my life.

I wish I could’ve said the impulse had been for some bigger reason. All the kids that tried to escape some horrible life, or that they wanted to get on screen so they could shed light on some sort of horror back home (as if we all didn’t have something to face). But no – there wasn’t a bigger reason than something selfish, personal. And you know what? That same sort of energy carried me in here. Kept me alive when people like Johnny were dropping like flies.

“Fuck off and die, bitch,” I pulled the sword from his chest and staggered backward. Fleck of blood splashed across my face and chest. I missed the chance for a catch phrase, but I didn’t need that now. I’m sure they got the money shot.

I could practically feel the heat of eleven’s eyes on the back of my head. From the looks of how I’d found them, he was losing a bit more than an ally.

“And what’re you looking at?” I rolled my shoulders and brought up my bloodied katana. I gave a wink for him and the cameras.

All that heat must’ve translated to a fiery swing because he took another good chunk out of Mirage.

It might’ve been the first time I worried about whether she’d make it. She’d been to hell and back since the second day, patched up like a quilt. Didn’t change her in the slightest, though. She towered over these guys until the practically disappeared. Her sword came clean and I knew the kid had to be done for.

I took my place next to her, though, even if the cannon hadn’t sounded yet. She might not have needed me per say, but that didn’t mean I was going to let the kid from eleven get a cheap shot.

[Itzal does not flee, but sticks by Mirage]

ELEGANT

[k!ah]

“I was a liar long before I got here, man, If this is the place that’s gonna make a liar out of you, maybe you don’t deserve to live anyway.”

Ha. If only that was true.

My whole life was a tidy web of lies and secrets. I had built it up over the years, so thick that sometimes it was hard to tell what was truth and what was not. But I didn't have the energy to argue with the boy, my knees were weak, and each breath felt like I was breathing fire. And it was too much. The pain- it was like nothing I had felt before- but had witnessed all too many times. Mr. Garners experiments, writhing and screaming and begging strapped into their chairs. I had watched almost indifferent. I had never really understood- or cared about- the pain that they were feeling. I understood now and I bite back a whimper, biting down on the inside of my cheek- hard.

I wanted- no I needed- it to stop.

"You're right, I don't deserve to live," I groan, the taste of iron in my mouth and I knew this was it. This was how Johnny Scaletta was going to be put down, executed by a kid who looked at me with such distaste, the other with a hunger to see my life snuffed out like an ember.

Flynn was going to be piiiissed off.

I broke my promise. Opps.

I never was good for him anyways.

This was for the best. It would hurt, but he would heal. He would find another- hopefully someone who could be honest with him from the start. Who he felt like he could share with his family without the fear of retribution that might come with it. It was better this way.

But that didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

I felt the edges of my world begin too close in as the boys sword digs into my chest, kissing the edge of my heart. So close, I think to myself, hating that I was almost disappointed that he had missed. Everything hurt and as the boy ripped his blade from my chest I am on my knees, looking up at the girl from nine. I don't beg though. I wouldn't. Instead I close my eyes, her sword crashing into the side of my head.

I'm on the ground, my cheeks pressed into the cold stone of the mountain. I try to push myself back up, summoning all the strength that I had but I had nothing left. I had nothing left to give and as my vision blurs my eyes find Karl and I look up at him, at the boy who was so misunderstood. "You n-nee-d to go!" I gasp, because even though it petrified me to be alone- "Get out of here, Karl!" I try to yell but my voice comes out as wheeze, I spit blood onto the ground.

Don't leave me.

but in the end I was not Yael. I was not Calamity. I was the boy who had broken his trust.

"It's okay, I'll take em' down!" I whisper into the ground. Blood had started to pool around me, the pain reaching its peak.

[ dying lol ]

[tick 12a / calla]

wip filler again ya

table by kiah <3

[ karl flees but ic he drags johnny away or something idk we're figuring it out ]