those little things that i fear. // f vs b vs t // day 6.

[✨ zozo.]

i'm just a girl
some kind of
f r e a k !

She hurls the katana off of the peak, watching it tumble and twirl into clouds - then vanishes with the sunset.

Like Adan, Steele, Autumn. 

Francine had peeled the purple sword off of Svetlana's back and felt lightning in her veins. She thought it might kill her, such a beautiful thing - the colour of Wisp, the colour of dusk. But still she breathed, two seelies - no, three - trailing after her as she ascended the mountain in silence. 

Svetlana's. It haunts her. She haunts her. Of course she would. Svetlana is one of the forest now. One of Francine's ghosts. After pacing for an hour or so she turned on her feet and gritted her teeth - "Leave me alone!" she had yelled at the floating entity, forest green and painfully familiar. 

(you might not want to acknowledge me francine. but you're still here.)

It didn't. Neither did Svetlana's voice on the wind. She crawled into the nearest small cavern, sniffling and heartbroken, wishing she had company other than these floating reminders of death. Francine fell asleep, missing the warm embrace of Autumn, (the moon will continue to protect us) crying softly to the sound of Svet and all of her ghosts. 

(rest now. let go.)









(be wary of the dark.)

When she wakes there is lightning in her veins and it feels like vengeance, like a promise, like a battle worth fighting.

Francine instinctively  reaches out for Autumn and remembers - lightning strike, instead she finds the hilt of the purple blade. When she rises the sword guides her forward, upward, her seelies following suit. 

She smells blood on the wind (blood is sweeter than wine. go ahead. have a taste) and tenses, figures coming into view from both sides of the peak. Her fist clenches and the sword in her hand crackles, as if it can sense the fight ahead.

Francine could run - but how soon until both of the boys catch up to her? How quickly until they decide to pick on the smallest of them all? 

(i just want you to promise me that when its down to the wire you'll think about yourself.) 

She doesn't think twice. Instead she stands so still, staring out at the sky beyond the peak. She counts down, hearing their footsteps etch closer, closer, 

her ghosts breathe, (now.)

Then Francine springs to life, twirls as she strikes once, twice - another lunge, fast on her feet, aiming for a chest, a heart, two at once. 

table coding elegant //  lyrics alissic

francine attacks brennan, engulfing lightning (sword)
OcLgskhNNtsword
8 +1

francine attacks theo, engulfing lightning (sword)
sword
3.5

sword·sword

[mat]

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

The purple fog draws Pierce, Haze, and me out of the cave that we’d called home for the past two days. I’m hesitant as it splashes against our walls. The mist, or fog, whatever you’d like to call it, almost feels soft upon contact, unlike the other electric fields that the cave protected us from in nights prior. The dead of the night feels a lot less scary with a dazzling haze spinning, caught in breath like cotton candy. If I wasn’t starving and begging myself to drink out of the waterskin before the recommended time, I might find more time to protest it under the rule of thumb that ‘all beautiful things in the arena are ugly inside.’

I hear Haze call out my name first. I turn back— she was following me— but she’s not there anymore.

"Haze?" I whisper, fanning through the mist to try and get a better sense of where she is. It’s thick though, the mist. "Pierce?" I’m louder and faster now as I search for them, but we’re all needles in a haystack. No, needles in a hayocean. I’m not going to find them unless I master the strategy of echolocation soon enough. I press on through the path. It’s only a matter of time before protests begin to become punished by the Gamemakers. They want us to move.

"We are going to see each other again. We’re going to see each other again" I say, first with the hope that they’re close enough to hear it, and second with the hope that it’s not just a wishful thought. Tomorrow is going to be better. The Capitol loves to tear up alliances and rip up the lifelines that we’ve used to survive. I lost one of them already. Amaterasu. But I still have two friends left, and I’ve got them right where I want them. Close, caring. Like we’ll matter to each other forever and ever. And for once, it doesn’t feel like I’m the one trying to ruin the good things I have. The shoe’s on the other foot, and I have the chance to keep things with Pierce and Haze good and well.

But only if I’m strong enough to do it. I take my katana and hold it out ahead of me. The lingering haze through the clearing brushes through my hair and through my clothes and my boots. The cool touch is enough to make the sweat a little more bearable to travel with. My little friend, who I’d found within the trees last night, stares at me. Its facial expressions are a bit tough to comprehend, but it seems worried as it travels behind my leg, almost clutching at it, like it doesn’t want me to go. I pat at its blank head. "Unfortunately, these games don’t work like that, friend. Running isn’t an option when trouble knows exactly where to find you."

The ground slowly begins to be less and less secure at my feet. Cherry blossoms flutter through the fog and strands of ribbon whip past before I can even see where they're headed. The arena is brewing a fabulous concoction. Cherry blossom petals, an intriguing haze, gold ribbons like a first-place prize. And most importantly, the tributes. Because how could they complete a recipe for trauma without a human sacrifice or two?

There are a couple of tributes ahead in my view. My fingers grasp themselves onto my sword, pressing deep into the engravings of its hilt. My chest locks up briefly. This is the first time that I've been without Pierce and Haizea when engaging in a battle. Knowing that there haven't been any new cannons gives me the confidence to pretend that they're still beside me. It may feel like I'm floating and lost, but they keep me grounded. Pierce holds me by one leg, grounded for love. Haze has the other, grounded for change. It's difficult to make out who's ahead through the purple glow of the mist, so I walk closer, practically dragging my feet as I go to save all the energy for my sword.

We're only a few feet away from one another when I can make out their faces. One is Francine, from Seven. She's one of the few people I hadn't seen yet in the arena, along with Itzal and Mirage judging from the cave's list of remaining tributes. The other is Theo, Svet's ally, and he doesn't look any worse than the day we'd last met. That day, mind you, was when he flung his spear straight at my face. We might have an ax to grind with one another, tat for tat.

It is as I'm glaring at Theo that the Kodama friend jumps without much of a warning, swinging around to my front side and leaping up my leg. I bend down, ready to shove it away from tripping me in such a tense moment. But I see what it was trying to do: Francine's sword, flickering with some familiar blue energy, slices the small creature in two. It was protecting me. My thoughts call back to Ama, who died defending and protecting the group. I channel those same feelings, looking up as the battle seems to have begun.

I point to Francine's sword. "Last I checked, Svetlana had that sword. Now you have it, so I suppose I should be thanking you." I speak with as much confidence as I'd had when I was reaped. My katana rises. "But I'll save you the gratitude. It belongs with someone else." It was Ama's, first and always. I swing first at Francine, in hopes that I'll be able to let the sword rest for Ama's sake.

[ brennan attacks francine ; katana (sword) ]
KUuMK4oKiHsword
[ 1139 -- Deep Gash on Right Bicep -- 8.0 damage ]

"And you, Theo," I turn to Theo. "I remember you calling Haizea a bitch." My katana carries over in Theo's direction, and I shake my head. I have friends now, and I'll protect them from unkind remarks. "She's the most loving, caring, and warm person in this arena. Don't forget that." The katana bends in his direction. If he wants a bitch, I'll give him a bitch (and yes, I considered saying that part out loud, and yes I'm glad I didn't because it'd be like walking into a minefield.)

[ brennan attacks theo ; katana (sword) ]
sword
[ 1135 -- Deep Gash on Right Bicep -- 8.0 damage ]

sword·sword

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

I dreamt of my father. Of a tall, slender, dark toned man who held my hand when I walked to school. The same man that held me in his arms, cradled me at my lowest cries that only the moon could hear. Unlike my mother, he was soft. Too soft at times - but he showed love, also unlike my mother, who only did through bowls of soup. I can remember being held in bed as my cheeks flushed red, and I choked on my words. He reminds me of sunrises on a picnic blanket.

It’s hard to figure out why I’ve dreamt of my father so much here. You’d think your time was spent reminiscing over what you do have, not what you don’t have anymore. If I could control my dreams, I’d be dreamin of Woods. Or of knockin that son of a bitch Aytac’s teeth out. Maybe thinking about sending the dude a medical bill would be a better incentive for why I want to get home.

Fuck home, if my dad was to be anything with it.

My morning was glazed with purple. Like the night sky, but as if the sky met the ground, as if the sky was below. The gamemakers wanted to make the transition to heaven easy.

The fog wanted to provide a transition, too. Creating a purple cloud around me, I was forced to follow it. It sparkles, like a young child’s eyes when they see candy. When they still have hope for a better day.

I can only hope that I don’t die.

I follow the trail with hesitance. Without Elm, I have nobody to trust. My boots scuttle rocks and I scare my own damn self. I don’t like being alone, I think to myself, and my mother must feel ten times worse. Both of the remaining men in her life choose to leave.

I’m choosing to go back, but dude, I don’t think I have that choice anymore. I have to earn it.

Lavender walls turn into an opening, the opening providing space for two other tributes. Both are people that I’ve fought before, and lost to before, which ignites a fire within the depths of my chest. I don’t want to lose this time. I can’t. For Svet, for Dorothy. For Elm, letting down the one last member of the group. I need to redeem myself here.

Both of the other two spring into action, taking me off guard. It’s first the girl that took Svetlana’s life, next the boy who killed Dorothy. God, they’re so swift - how the fuck am I supposed to be the athlete? Brennan, I think that’s his name, gets a sacrificial… something jumping in front of Francine’s sword. Like he deserves to receive sacrifices here. What the fuck did he do to earn it? Good hair? He certainly didn’t scare anyone into it. The death glare he gave me wasn’t very heart-fluttering. With that face, good god, Pierce and Brennan would make a lovely piece in a magazine at some point.

Francine then scrapes my leg, edging it back into the pain it felt five days ago. I wince, cursing a light ”fuck”, not used to the parting of my skin. I push down my pain, as it’s only the first wince of suffering. She’s gotta try harder than that, that’s for damn sure. Brennan takes his swings, first giving his speech to the girl and then swiping at her. He lands, and the blood oozes out. He then turns to me.

"I remember you calling Haizea a bitch."

I sure fuckin’ did. I’d call you one, too. Take him and his little boyfriend into a Capitol magazine studio and they would be goin batshit crazy for those two. Maybe I do feel bad for Haizea - must be hard to sleep when those two fuckers were probably up all night making “the best of the rest” of at least one of their lives. Ew.

"She's the most loving, caring, and warm person in this arena. Don't forget that." Brennan’s sword then meets my skin just as it met Francine. This dude came to fuckin’ demolish, let me tell ya. But he sure as hell cares about Haizea for someone trying to win at this point of the game. ”What the fuck do I need to remember it for?” He says it like Haizea means something to me. ”Her damn obituary?”

Fault me for not caring about the girl, really, but I’ve never really talked to her. I haven’t talked to many of the tributes, really, I kept in my own lane. I was still in that recluded place that didn’t allow me to open up to these people. They ain’t gonna go and visit Mariah, anyway. If they did, she’d probably want to punch ‘em just for showin up. My eyes flicker between the other two tributes, and god, I hope for the best.

”If she’s so great anyway, what the fuck does that make you?”

Dead soon, I hope.

[kaitlin]

[attacks francine, spear]
MjfCKs1Drrspear
[sc 3.5]

[attacks brennan, spear]
spear
[block 0.0]

accuracy reroll (brennan)
spear
[stabbed 8.5 + 1.0 strength]spear·spear·spear

[✨ zozo.]

i'm just a girl
some kind of
f r e a k !

For a moment she thinks she's sliced through flesh - but something inhuman falls to the ground with a thud, then another. Two pieces of something, but not of the boy.

Francine frowns, raises her sword up to her face. Lightning flashes in the glint in her eyes as tears prick, pain seething through her arm. She hasn't felt a wound like this since the very beginning, invisible amongst the chaos that plucked away her allies one by one with death's hands. How foolish to forget that pain is so very real in here. That she could not be invisible forever. Such childish things.

Let's play a game of hide and seek - well, look at that. She's been bested at her own game.

"It's mine," she growls, low, curling into herself as her wounded arm wobbles under the strain of keeping the sword upright. "Not yours."

francine attacks brennan, engulfing lightning (sword)
MgUqW2zUdJsword
8+1

Where Francine has few words, the other boy has plenty for all of them. She gets it, that anger. That burning furiousness that near seeps out of his eyes, his ears, his mouth. He doesn't want niceties, friendship, reminders of either. He has no place for them. Best to keep those under wraps, thinks Francine, heart tightening at the thought of Adan and Autumn falling at the hands of his weapon.

So she doesn't say their names when she strikes again. She feels them, pulling the sword back, swinging it forward. Hears their words on the wind, in the ache in her muscles, in her angry, desperate yelp when her sword misses the first time.

francine attacks theo, engulfing lightning (sword)
sword

miss

accuracy day 6
sword
3.5

table coding elegant //  lyrics alissic

sword·sword·sword

[mat]

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

Theo and I go tit for tat, gash for gash, blow for blow. "What the fuck do I need to remember it for?" he asks me, still on the subject of what he said to Haze, "her damn obituary?" As if he'd be honored to get anything more than a mention in the footnotes. I said as much about her because I'd never said it out loud before. I never complimented her or told her how brave and welcoming she was. Haizea Rose-Izar has two kills to her name, Dorothy and Rene, but her best weapon is her kindness. She cut jaded air with every knife she threw and finger she pointed up the mountain with. I'm unsure if I'll see her again if we'll survive the haze and cross paths once it dissipates. When, if, she becomes victor and the Capitol forces her to rewatch the games in clips and segments, I hope they'll show her this. That she's the best friend I've ever had, and she'll mean everything to me.

I pull my sleeve back, the lime silk fabric torn up by the scavenging of Theo's spear. It burns when it mixes with the mist like magenta slapped and spread on a canvas. "If she's so great anyway, what the fuck does that make you?" I'm not too sure what he's asking. Can two people not be great? Strength amplifies strength on this mountain. We made a pact a few days ago. Written with the blood that Theo spilled from me and across a patch of bandages. Rebellion. A vow that we'd try to change things for the better if either of us makes it out. Tied up in a pinkie promise over a bandage set ablaze in a fire, I'm strong because she is strong. So what does that make me? Pierce, Ama, Haze. I'm who they made me. More confident, stronger, just better. I respond quickly as the purple haze begins to break us apart. "No. Remember it for yours as the moment it all went wrong."

A crackle on the rock below leads me to spin to Francine. I'd looked away for a brief moment to take my chance at Theo and now she's found the strength to go again. She pops up in a surprise, caught by the unsteadiness of her injuries. "It's mine," she says in a low tone toward the sword. "Not yours." She lands a shot on my other arm, the blue lightning searing through to open my skin for a more clear cut. My arm bends awkwardly on reflex, it hurts. A fight where everyone is going for everyone is much harder to manage. Stray wisps of purple move closer and then back away like a beating heart.

I shake my head. "Not mine. Not yours," I say in kind, fighting through the pain with a wince and a scratched pitch. The sword doesn't belong to me, either. It never has. "It's Amaterasu's." I take my katana against Francine again. Ama didn't fight much, but the sword built on lightning deserves to rest with her. That's where the order was, that's when things were good. I know now that I can't change the past, but if I can dress my mind in the fancy suits and gowns of my dreams, that's what I'll do. Ama with the sword, Pierce with his bow, Haze with her knives, and me with my katana. The good days, when we were winning. Just the way I liked it.

[ brennan attacks francine ; katana (sword) ]
hcKYEekLGxsword
[1189 -- Shallow Cut on Forehead -- 4.5 damage]

While she's distracted from the blow, I move back to Theo. Time to go blow for blow again. I lean in his direction again, taking a few steps forward. After six days of fighting, the seams of my shirt seem to flow more freely now, shreds of silk kept together by the still-in-tact collar. Hopefully, there's enough needle and thread in my bag to sew or stitch up any loose ends after this. If, or when, I can't really tell which direction the odds lean at this point.

My mouth widens as I'm about to say something, but I'll spare Theo the dramatic cliches that he's probably heard thousands of times before. Haizea isn't a bitch, but karma is. Fingers chip at the indentations on the katana as I reposition my grip.

Jaw tightens, eyes narrow, and katana shifts.

[ brennan attacks theo ; katana (sword) ]
sword
[1117 -- Shallow Cut on Left Forearm -- 3.5 damage]

sword·sword

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

It takes a second swipe for me to hit the dude, and god damn, I’m glad I didn’t fight like this back home. Or maybe I’m not, because I’d be dead already. It’d be a lot better to die back at home than on national television. Especially when you’re actively trying to not die.

Talk about a national fucking failure man.

My cheeks flush out of embarrassment for a second. A hot flash of emotion that reminds me that I am human. That I’m alive, so I’m no failure just yet. But what does that make Dorothy? The girl from home, my sister, my guiding light of hope that I have something to fight for. She came here to die. It’s a twisted thing, really, and I’ve felt a bitter taste in my mouth ever since I knew why she was here. It’s fucked up dude. She volunteered because she hated her family. She wanted to get away from it all.

I volunteered because, well, I’m a fuckin’ idiot. I volunteered over a card game, which maybe I don’t love my mother enough. The thought boils in my mind like lava. It creeps at my eyes, a burning sensation of tears. I think it hurts because I won’t let them fall. Brennan speaks up again. Basking in whatever glory he had made for himself, or maybe in whatever failure I continue to make myself. "No. Remember it for yours as the moment it all went wrong." Where I failed.

Where I absolutely fucked up. Took the love that my mother, that Woods had for me and threw it away to a game of luck. And god damn it, I’m stupid. I’m so stupid.

The thing about going from a team of six, to a team of four, to three, to two, and now just me, is that you can only blame yourself. I don’t take blame easily. I’m like the other boys on the field. Where we learned that taking the blame meant you’re off the team, and nobody wanted to be off the team. I got used to having someone like Aytac. Or someone like Elm, because bless their heart, as much as they tried, they were not built for the field. But I have nobody to blame now, nobody but myself. I might as well be dead.

Maybe dad was right to leave, I think to myself, as the next two blades kiss my skin. The sharpened blade of Francine’s sword caress my arm like Woods did. Brennan’s sharpened lip kiss my forehead like my mother used to, yet the pain kicks me like my father always had.

Brennan formed a team that, like the one back home, would die for each other. Would bleed and paint each other with their blood. They’d wear it like a badge of brotherhood, like the boys back home.

I can’t say that I’ll miss anyone from here. I can’t say that any of them matter.

But who can I tell him to remember me? All of my friends are gone, and if not, they want me dead.

Through the jolts of pain that I feel, I know that my mother’s pain is larger. It’s a big old cancerous bulge that has festered itself in her heart, in her mind, ever since the first man she loved left. I can’t imagine it’s doing much better after the second one has.

The fog surrounds us, purple, and enchanting. Electric in the way that Woods’ lips felt and glowing like my mother’s celebratory soup after I qualified for the league. It glimmers with hope. Like we could be taken away from here, and I’m reminded by the blade in my hand that the only place we can go after here is hell.

My spear bends towards Francine, asking my father to believe in my success for once, that way I can believe in myself too.

”I wish I could get it, man.” I let my guard down, looking at the boy as if I’m anew. As if I’m sorry, but bitches see bitches, and I can’t assume Brennan believes I could be softer than the rock we stand on. ”But I can’t waste time on the fake happy memories here.” Any sort of joy in this place is one medicated nightmare away from being ruined. ”I don’t want to remember them.”

I don’t want to remember any of it. Of feeling like I’ve failed, because I’ve never allowed myself to before.

[kaitlin]

[attacks francine, spear]
1YQgvyh3XHspear
[sc 4.5]

[attacks brennan, spear]
spear
[block 0.0]
spear·spear

[✨ zozo.]

i'm just a girl
some kind of
f r e a k !

Maybe she could run. Let them have at it, wear them down, get the victor of their fight at his most vulnerable. Francine considers it, turning to flee - but she runs straight into a vision of fog, alarming and unkind.

Don't, it seems to say, crackling a warning. Don't even think about it.

The tip of Theo's spear grazes her arm and she turns back, huffing at her situation. The smallest, the quietest, backed into a corner of fog and blade - she feels tiny, and not in a good way. They are so high up it's impossible to see the ground, Francine has never been a child of the sky. She prefers the earth underneath her feet, barefoot soles worn down from forest floors and dirt underneath her nails.

If she has to fight to feel the ground again, so be it.

Francine doesn't know who Amaterasu is, but she can only assume she is to Brennan what Autumn was to her. Someone to trust. Someone good. Someone who didn't deserve to be in a place like this. But there's something about this sword that calls to Francine, the same thing that called her up here through the pathways of fog, to this very battle. The call to fight, to live, to keep on going - all alone; but not, somehow.

Svetlana Forrester lives in this sword. She loves that. She hates that.

(-think about yourself.)

Not Adan, Autumn, Steele. Not even Amaterasu - whoever she is.

Was.

table coding elegant //  lyrics alissic

francine attacks brennan, engulfing lightning (sword)
4|bnVQQjAKsword
4

francine attacks theo, engulfing lightning (sword)
sword
0 block

sword·sword

[mat]

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

I'm satisfied with the response I get from Theo, who's uninterested in cherishing 'fake happy memories.' He seems to be catching on to what I'm saying between breaths. Just because I have a snark to my tone at the moment doesn't mean I hate him. He didn't deliver the kill onto Ama as Svet did, and he didn't take the first attack in that ambush. That was Dorothy. I'm picking away rose petals until there's nothing left but thorns to justify this fight. Francine has Ama's sword. Theo hurt Haze's feelings. I sell myself turning the blade, again and again in honor of them, not in distaste for the people I'm battling. Yeah, that's it. The rocks below grow unsteady, but the past six days have allowed me to adjust on the fly.

I hope that Theo doesn't think I'm doing this out of hate. Maybe once we're all long dead, we can hold hands in the dirt, say fair game, and be content. But we have to save that for later, years and years from today if we're lucky. It's go-time now as Francine nicks the sturdy plates on my chest, spreading them apart with her force. The fog whispers don't stop now, reaching out like a hand toward my wrist, where blood has already begun to spread and clutter. The ground feels as though it shifts and I catch myself from falling. It's getting a little more clear now that we've been led to the highest peaks of the mountains that Haizea pointed out on our first night.

"A bit off-topic, but the Gamemakers could totally drop this thing onto the ground and kill us all." I start the rotation with Francine again. My katana slices through fog, revealing that we're rather close to the peak's end. I suppose they could crumble the corners of the peak and we'd all plummet as well.

[ brennan attacks francine ; katana (sword) ]
0MyroGzgLTsword
[1043 -- Stabbed in Hand -- 8.0 damage + 1.0 Blades]

I then turn to Theo, pulling myself closer to what appears to be somewhat less near the cliffside. "I doubt they would, though. Judging from my training session, they probably haven't listened to one thing I've said." Funny, how I've kept their scores secret when I promised I'd expose them. They all got D-, if you're curious. I just got the feeling they wouldn't care. "Plus, I think they love watching children kill children." I try to do as they desire, ending my sequence of movements with a slash in Theo's direction.

[ brennan attacks theo ; katana (sword) ]
sword
[1003 -- Shallow Cut on Left Shoulder -- 3.5 damage]

sword·sword

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

Blades are exchanged in a geometric pattern. We dance around each other, but there’s no music, so the dance is to the scuffing of boots. Our breathing, as it gets heavier and heavier, teases our lungs that every single breath could be our last. I continue to struggle to find a grip on my spear, one that lasts, and something inside me beckons to see if I need a change in weaponry. I shake the thought, given my performance with the spear has been consistent.

My spear grazes Francine’s arm, and she jumps, turning back and huffing at the situation at hand. She must have thought she could leave, despite the dome of fog that surrounds us.

Well, maybe I wasn’t the dumbest one here.

She’s quick to swing back at us, silent like a fox. I wonder if Brennan’s ever thought about the idea, but he’s too busy cosplaying as a knight. He’d do fuckin’ great

"A bit off-topic, but the Gamemakers could totally drop this thing onto the ground and kill us all." Brennan notes, sparing a light moment to slice open a part of the fog barrier. He’s right. All that’s out there is a bunch of damn air, giving those who try to run from the fight a good five seconds to say their goodbyes. After that, the mutts down below get a new carcass to feast on before the crane tries to pick up the remaining scattered pieces. He wasn't wrong. If we took too long to try to kill each other, they might just resort to killing all three of us. The three of us seem to be stuck equally. But we needed to talk less and get to the fight more.

I’m so damn tired of fighting, though. Has anyone else been busy cuttin up tributes since day one like Elm and I have? We deserve a break. They deserve one - I sure hope that Niko dude struggled to walk the way Elm bludgeoned the fucker.

Brennan switches his focus to fighting again, his sword meeting Francine and then he turns to me. ”I doubt they would, though. JUdging from my training session, they probably haven’t listened to one thing I’ve said.” So the talking thing continued into his training session. God damn, does the dude even drink enough water to be talkin this much? ”Plus, I think they love watching children kill children.” He steps towards me with his sword, taking a swipe at my shoulder.

”Well, hey now, don’t give them any idea-” as I raise my voice, warning him of his words, the ground shakes. And it literally drops. Oh fuck, oh fuck - this it god damn it this is why I hate twinks why is this happening to me ”Yo, what the fuck-” and the ground stops it’s freefall, as if caught by a titan that protects the ground.

I take a second, regaining my composure and footing. They chose now to listen to us? Might as well have put me in a damn diaper, man. I release a cough, straightening myself and regaining the grip I once had on my weapon. ”Anyway, we should probably stop giving them ideas.” I’d be bored too if I had to watch two gays argue with each other. One of ‘em is gonna die anyway.

”As long as one of us dies, we’ve done their job.”

[kaitlin]

attacks francine, spear
gk3ewDsXFPspear
[result]

attacks brennan, spear
spear
[result]spear·spear

[✨ zozo.]

i'm just a girl
some kind of
f r e a k !

Francine can almost feel her ghosts gathered around her. Transparent, near corporeal, so close. They whisper, scream, cry out - half elated, half devastated, that their tie to the living world will soon join them in the forest.

The world tilts and she thinks she might be falling. For a moment, when her heart leaps out of her chest Francine is convinced that she's already dead, slipped away without even realising it. But the cold ground finds her back and the wind is knocked from her lungs with a thud and a groan, gasping as she tries to scramble back upwards.

Theo's spear nicks the flesh of her leg on the come-up, yelling at Brennan about giving the Gamemakers ideas. She looks to the sky and huffs, scowling. What could she say to them, wishing upon a star, conjuring up some miracle to save her dying self - give me someone my own size to fight next time, huh?

She's slower, moving. Slower than she's ever been. The ghosts scream, kiss her cheeks, wrap their hands around her limbs. They tug, begging for her to leave. (join us,) not yet. (join us,) not yet. (we've been waiting,) she knows. (we're your only friends left), she knows.

Two strapping lads and a scrap of a girl - she never stood a chance, did she?

(If I die that's fine. I'll be with my friends.)

She's not sad. She's not sad.

A tear falls down her cheek regardless.

table coding elegant //  lyrics alissic

francine attacks brennan, engulfing lightning (sword)
mP|A4RNTLCsword
3.5

francine attacks theo, engulfing lightning (sword)
sword
4

sword·sword

[mat]

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

Lost in the wind are Theo's words. He begins to speak as if knocking on hardwood, but the ground is already dropping. My hands rise without a choice like we've rounded the top of a hill and have started the decline. Our bodies float for a moment. The Gamemakers have used enough force to defy gravity in the space arena from a few years back. I land with a bruising thud to my chin, facedown on the rocky surface. Theo curses out of frustration and shock, falling in line with the idea that we shouldn't give them any ideas of how to make the experience more painful. I nod in agreeance, mouthing "sorry" to both of them for the unpleasantness.

"As long as one of us dies, we've done their job." Theo gets it, the helpless and begrudging compliance that comes along with our actions. He swings his spear, and I swat the tip away with my katana. Our surface is slanted now, steep enough that one misstep could send any one of us off of the peak. I look to Francine. She's easily the most injured of the three of us, anyone could tell that by the slowing of her movement. But I see the tortured tear trickle down her cheek. She's a hard face to read. Confident only a few moments ago, all that has seemed to deteriorate with every scratch and wound that materializes. It's apparent to me that she's been through a lot here. I wonder if she had a Pierce, an Ama, a Haze. I recall Itzal telling me in the training center that people from the districts are a lot alike, even if everyone tries to tell us they're not. The funny part about it is that I can see the twenty-two people from other districts, all of whom I've known for only a few days, better than I could see the people back in Three that I've known for seventeen years.

Experience breeds solidarity, even if those experiences are rooted in divisive conflict.

Two cannons shoot in quick succession. Waves of unsteadiness rattle the already unraveling ground below. I feel an added weight with each of the bangs, like pressure for not being fast enough with my blade. Don't be Pierce, please, I still have something I need to tell him. And don't be Haizea, I'm not sure I'd be able to handle the fact that losing her in the fog cost her her life.

Stones crack from the strength of the drop. It doesn't seem like we reached ground level, though. We'd probably all be dead from such an impact. Plus, the blue skies are still uninterrupted through the breaks in the fog. We're still floating, the drop was just a warning for us not to get so cute.

At least I know they're watching now, they're listening. Maybe the Gamemakers will heed the warning that Theo and I discretely gave. I regret what I told Dorothy a couple of days ago. I told her that if any of my friends died, it would be on her. Now, we're caught in a suffocating ring with nowhere to go until we fight and kill. I know better now. It's not Dorothy's fault for what happened. This isn't a children's fantasy world where toys have minds of their own. (Not yet, anyway. No one knows what happens to toys swept under the bed in exchange for the new generation.) Toy dolls only move when commanded, and it's certainly not their fault that they're given no other choice.

We're all in close proximity now as the fog closes in, sliding like our platform did moments before. I take my katana to both of them in quick succession. A ragged doll swinging by mandate rather than choice.

[ brennan attacks francine ; katana (sword) ]
rCaik91zfmsword
[1055 -- Deep Gash on Left Thigh -- 8.0 damage]

[ brennan attacks theo ; katana (sword) ]
sword
[1031 -- Shallow Cut on Left Calf -- 3.5 damage]

I watch as Francine stumbles toward the side of the fog, the edge. Silent.

sword·sword

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

gonna filler for now! just wanna get him out, will write more </3

i watch as she meets the edge and falls, she becomes a part of the fog that we all wish we could escape.

theo flees!

[mat]

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

It's a clean cut across Francine's leg, coming from my katana, that sends her backward. The fog pulls her like shadows to a ghost after a haunt. Her body accepts the strike. She trips a bit, I'm not sure what on. A drip of guilt watches over me. I lunge forward, hoping to save her from the fall, but my reaction is too slow.

I slide to the edge, on my knees to see if there's a second layer of rock she landed on or fell to. There is nothing. No rock, no clouds, no sound, no Francine. Even the ground, miles below, is blended with air, sunshine reflecting off the smooth grey mountain. The fog behind me dissipates like a vacuum. I think I hear Theo leave. I stay, listening for confirmation that she's made landfall. It doesn't come. And this brings me some comfort. I hope she's floating elsewhere, learning how to find peace.

A cannon blows. I still lean on, staring through cursed air. Daylight has never burnt so much.

[flees]