Round One: Greer vs Romeo (D4)

[hesper hart 🐺 d9f]

The tribute stands with bare feet in loose dirt and mud below the dark, damp arena. If they look up, they see light and dust pouring in from the cracks in the wooden flooring. And already, they can hear the cheers, the calls for death. A man-sized bird cage comes to a stop at the ground in front of them and if they aren't wise enough to step in on their own, the peacekeepers will shove them inside. Once the gates are locked behind them, they'll know for sure though: this is officially it. No amount of hope will save them now. Only sharpened steel.

As they rise into the arena, the crowd's applause grows overwhelming in its noise, bleeding into a force of sound like a wall, pushing the tributes further into their cages.

"What an exciting show we have planned for you all today!" A voice the tributes may or may not recognize as belonging to Harlan Godfrey booms over any other voice to be heard.

The tributes will notice that they are standing in a courtyard, with a lush green carpet of grass, and they're surrounded on all sides by a gigantic hedge maze. If the tribute bothers counting, they'll also notice 12 different gates encircling the area, each with a bulky padlock the tributes will be able to make out with ease. As if calling to them, the key ring at their hips grows heavy.

They also notice another cage like their own on the other side of the courtyard, occupied with their own district partner. At the same time, both cages will open. As both tributes climb out of their cages and into the arena, they'll both notice a table nearby, full of rather basic-looking swords of all sorts of different shapes and sizes, though some are obviously missing. They'll also notice a few of those swords have been left lying in random places on the grass, undeniably covered in blood.

"Up next to fight, our District Four tributes: Greer Halstead versus Romeo Wilder!"

---

Weapon: Sword

Greer Initiative - 60.13
Romeo Initiative - 97.5

Retro Engine Link: Here

Reminder that tributes have not been granted any stations for this games including weapon modifiers, accuracy, first aid, or even stealth. As a result, both tributes will need to make non-attack intro posts before they begin attacking. If tributes refuse to fight each other, please let me (Dars) know asap so that I can schedule mutts for your fight. As always, 24 hour posting rules are in effect and will be enforced.

This fight will conclude once either tribute has died, and you both have until Friday, 28th of April at 6 pm pst to finish them yourselves, or mutts will be deployed to finish the job.

[d7f amber bosch 🌿 tris]

They take away his guitar when they present his uniform.

He pretends that he does not feel the loss of it like a wound opening. But the blood does not seep, and it does not stain. It just flows peacefully. He runs his palm across the cold wood before he finally relinquishes the treasure to his captors, tracing a fingertip across a few of the signatures and drawings etched there. He has held on to this passion, this hope, every day since he was eight years old. And now, at eighteen, his grip must finally loosen — the music comes to a cease, and the room falls silent.

Inevitably, he knew that this would happen, but the wine colored sash around his torso has none of the same familiarity as the strap of his instrument. His feet are bare against the cool ground, only a thin layer of grime and sand separating his flesh from the flooring. His stomach shifts, a sailboat caught in a storm that has long been brewing. He has known since his name was called that he would not be allowed to sing his way through this torment, holding hands in the place of daggers — but the truth lingers at the back of his mind like a shark in shallow waters. The distant roar of a crowd cheering.

Both of these entities can smell the blood.

Romeo is aware of the choice he must make to survive. He knows intimately the kind of person who must be left standing in the place of who he is now — the shape he will be required to take. He has never thought himself particularly special; only a boy with a love of melodies and an insatiable appetite for control. All his songs are written from his perspective, structured by his design, harmonized by the honey-warm tone of his voice.

Has anyone ever taken the time to think whether or not this narrator should be trusted?

His dark curls cascade down to his chin, eyes dark like embers only a spark away from igniting into flame. He adjusts his laurel crown, imagining the weight of the very thing he is choosing to kill for. Let there be no mistake. When he steps into the bird cage, tall body folding itself to fill the space, he does not allow himself to notice the metaphor in the action. There is only static, a hum of lightning in the clouds, a hiss of electricity racing through his mind.

Adrenaline is a powerful force.

Neck craning back, he watches the sphere of light above him come steadily closer, the lively whir of an audience waiting to greet him for the performance he has been booked to play. "What an exciting show we have planned for you all today!" He is a puppet on strings, standing at attention. His cage settles into place, at the center of a courtyard, swaying on its pulley. Surrounding him on all sides, he can only assume the endless walls of greenery are some form of hedge maze. He can count twelve entrances as he turns his head, but all of them are locked. When his gaze falls on Greer in the same predicament, both of their prison doors click open in unison.

He wastes no time exiting his cell — quickly familiarizing himself with the scene before him. He tries to block out the murmuring that comes from above, the clapping of excited hands, focusing his eyes on two tables lined with swords of every kind, only to then notice the splotches of blood and discarded blades that litter the ground at their feet. "Greer," he starts before the realization can sink in, the cruel fact that their nightmare will begin in this very moment.

"Up next to fight, our District Four tributes: Greer Halstead versus Romeo Wilder!"

Ah. There's the trick. He inhales steadily, face stoic as he approaches the table to his left and claims a long, thin rapier. He has no wish to torture the girl — only to end this as quickly as possible. He turns to face his designated enemy before another route can be considered, only sparing her this one last mercy to collect her bearings and speak her final thoughts before he strikes. "I preferred you and I as friends." This is no fault of her own. The threads of fate are wicked and entangling. "But if you have to die for me to live, then so be it."

There are other things he has to mourn.

[d1b. xylia fray ♕ kaяi]

Sleep was fleeting.

But somehow Greer managed it, even with the horrors of tomorrow looming over her. They filled her dreams with various forms of suffering. A fire of brilliant oranges and reds consuming her, a knife through the chest, dirt covering her face as it slowly filled up her lungs. But worst of all her body skin and bones, brittle from such malnourishment that she takes a step and her leg snaps. Inhales too deeply and a rib cracks-

A loud knock on the door.

She awakens to waves of pain in her abdomen, a reminder that the last nightmare is much too real. The dinner roll from last night barely touched her stomach, she was not used to starving. Even during the off season her parents always planned well, and they never once went to sleep hungry.

Another knock.

This one angrier.

Greer forced herself to stand and carefully stepped forward, the dream from last night still fresh in her mind. She wrapped her hand around the doorknob and pulled. The Peacekeepers on the other side stood taller than she remembered. Gruff, mean, unempathetic. ”It’s time to go,” they muttered before grabbing her wrist and leading her down the hall. They walked so briskly she didn’t even have a chance to look back at the room where she has probably taken her last sleep.

The rest is a blur.

A silent walk. A hovercraft full of other tributes. She refused to look at them. Instead she closed her eyes tight and tried to keep the nightmares at bay.

More dark hallways. Tossed into a room that is nothing more than hay and mud on the ground with a small table in the corner that holds what she assumes is her uniform. The sound of the muck beneath her feet is deafening in the room filled with utter silence. The only light comes from the cracks in the foundation, letting in the first bits of sunlight she has seen in days. It rejuvenates her.

It gives her hope.

This time there is no knock.

Just the sound of footsteps coming to escort her to her death. Greer straightens the laurel crown atop her head, a mockery of the tributes of course, but if she was going to die she wanted to be remembered.
They lead her into a birdcage. Another metaphor she supposes, another way for the Capitol to remind them that they are just animals in their little game. It squeaks obnoxiously as she slowly raises up towards her doom.

But then she sees light.

It takes her eyes a minute to adjust to the sun. Underneath the arena was dark and dreary and their rooms had no windows to haze into the outside world. Her eyes. Greer blinks. Then blinks again. It was nothing like she ever imagined. A lush, green courtyard. The grass underneath tickles her feet as she dares to take her first few steps into hell. They ring of keys that weigh heavy at her side now make more sense as she counts twelve gates, each secured by a lock. Green shrubs, rising at least 7 feet above her head. Then finally, two tables filled with swords, used bloodied weapons scattered across the grass.

At least they bothered to remove the bodies.

But the real horror was the boy who stood across from her on the other side of the blood-stained field.

Romeo.

He looks serene as he speaks her name, and she forces herself to look at the boy she is about to kill. The boy she learned just a little something about on that fated train ride.

Just a boy.

"I preferred you and I as friends. But if you have to die for me to live, then so be it."

”I’ve never been good at making friends,” she muttered as she walked towards the tables filled with weapons. Gently, she ran her hand across the hilt of each of them. They weren’t spears, they weren’t knives, and she couldn’t help but curse under her breath. Her hand landed on the shortest one hoping it offered her the most control.

”But I think you and I had potential.” She stands just a few feet away from her district partner, her face expressionless, but if you look closely enough you might be able to spot a hint of sadness in her eyes.

”Just remember, it is not only me who will need to die. And I just hope that is something you can live with,”

Greer raises her weapon. Ready to fight for the last few moments of her life.

Waiting for Death to finally come knocking at her door.

[d7f amber bosch 🌿 tris]

He is glad to see that none of her fight has been stolen from her.

Romeo is a musician without his instrument, but so long as Greer Halstead has her hands, he knows that she will always reach for a lifeline. She will not go from this place without leaving some sort of scar in her wake. In this exchange of willpower, ocean born daughter and cliffside son, neither of them is content to yield.

Where he is a performer, springtime words and the echo of cologne clinging to his wrists, Greer is hollow eyes and quiet calculation. There is always some puzzle for her gaze to figure out. He does not think her cruel, but he is keenly aware that she is as much of a fool as he is. She arms herself readily, with certainty, staring at the same possibility of an unfair life his own eyes are fixed on. Regardless of this, in a terribly brief span of time, twenty-three tragedies will inevitably mar this ground.

And he is aware of what carnage he is choosing to walk through by choosing this path. "I've never been good at making friends." Lonely creature, he remembers his isolation and the choices he made to live in that quietness. The wonders of this fleeting existence, at least to the boy he is now, are only sacred when experienced alone. There will always be a trail that veers into the unknown, and he will always feel the pull to take it.

Her weapon is short, hungry to sink its sharp edge into some artery that he will have no knowledge how to patch. "But I think you and I had potential." The phrase can have several meanings. He considers wondering what her dreams might have been, what hope she's displaced in Four and wants to make it home to. But he listens to her speak with a silent, respectful gaze, nodding along to her straightforward words. Even if she does not cut, he will not mistake her for soft. "Just remember, it is not only me who will need to die."

He imagines this moment playing on a loop, district by district, calamities unfolding. "And I just hope that is something you can live with." His lips do not move, but his head tilts to the side, considering her for a short pause. The wave is rising, and there is nothing that can be done to stop it from crashing down. If the flood must claim one of them, all of them, he has no shame kicking out their legs from under them. He will crawl through a labyrinth of death if that means reaching the exit.

"If my assumption is correct," his gaze flits down to the ground, to the blood and the weapons discarded there, "and I survive this, then eleven others must die for me to escape." The sweep of his eyes acts as a small form of deception to throw off her careful stare on his frame. When the audience is distracted, and only then, the magician will perform his trick. He pulls back an arm.

"It's just as I said, Greer."

And his blade whistles a melody
intended only for her ears.

"So be it."

romeo attacks greer | rapier

Kjc076a7mQsword
3.5

sword

[d1b. xylia fray ♕ kaяi]

It feels heavy in her hands.

The sword. A weapon she had never used, never touched, never even seen in person. It's ironic really, how much heavier it is than the spear her father taught her with even though it is less than half its size. The balance feels significantly different than the knife she used to hold.

It was different.

This time it wouldn't be hay that covered the boathouse floor in the gentle glow of the waxing moon. It won't be a stuffed sack on a stick that has no way to defend itself. A swipe of my sword and this time it will spill crimson across the freshly manicured grass and he will swing back. Her blood will match his, and there will be no way to distinguish who's lost more until one of them falls dead. They will leave their mark on this field, and District Five, and Six, and Seven, and so on will step on their barely dried blood just to leave their own.

It is different because it is real.

This time, it is life or death.

The thought didn't repulse her, however. It also didn't excite her. It was a job that needed to be done whether she was there by choice or by force.

There was only one way out now.

Greer gripped her sword tighter as Romeo spoke, her brow furrowed, but listening closely to each word he spoke and watching every movement he dared to make, trying to be prepared for what might come next.

"If my assumption is correct and I survive this, then eleven others must die for me to escape."

A smirk finds its way across her lips. "I think you're smarter than you look, guitar boy," her words are playful, like banter between two friends who had known each other much longer than twenty four hours. They were both facing imminent death, a bond that seemed to make them the best of friends quicker than most.

"If my assumption is correct, these keys," she took her sword and pointed at the keys laced to his side before jingling her own. "Will get us throw one of those doors," she flipped her thumb over her shoulder to point to one of the twelve doors at their side. "But there's only one that will work, and we don't know who has it," She smiled again, this one much more sad than the first. It was clear from their first step into the sunlight that they were going to need to kill one another, but this fact solidified the thought.

"It's just as I said, Greer. So be it."

Without another word, Romeo comes crashing at her, rapier at the ready. She didn't have much practice with defensive moves, her Father only knew so much, but she lifted her sword in hopes to deflect his. The sound of metal clashing sliced through the temporary silence. She managed to push off the brunt of the attack, but the sword still managed to slice into her cheek.

And the first blood had been spilled.

"Nice swing," she said as she took the back of her hand across her face to wipe the blood now dripping down her chin. "Someone teach you how to use that?"

Greer lunged, hoping and praying that everything her Father taught her would be useful. They were all sharp, they were all deadly, and all she knew is she had to hit the boy from the train with the guitar and the melody that reminded her of home.

Because if she had to kill him-

So be it.

( greer attacks romeo ; sword )
y7_tEonwp|sword
( 3.5 )
sword

[d7f amber bosch 🌿 tris]

"I think you're smarter than you look, guitar boy."

Her words are playful, but Romeo can't say they're correct. Whether or not he is truly wise remains to be revealed. All of his actions will have their inevitable consequences, that much he is certain of, but will he be forced to pay those debts in a matter of days or simply minutes? The clock ticks down inside his head, awaiting detonation — awaiting an answer that can only be given at the end of the test. He grips the rapier in his right hand more tightly, white knuckle ambition, bold enough to think his life will be worth fighting for after killing a girl who comes from the exact same place as him. The same corner of the same world.

Only she knows the exact shade of the ocean he misses so deeply. And only she, of all the strangers here, is the one least deserving of the wrath he knows he must give in to.

By the close of the day, their homeland will mourn one of them and feel betrayed by the other.

This is a losing game.

"If my assumption is correct, these keys will get us through one of those doors." But it can never be so easy as the already difficult obstacle that's been presented to them, it has to go deeper than that. He can imagine twenty-four key rings jingling throughout the arena, slowly but steadily growing quieter until it is just the two of them left, standing back in this very same moment. There must be an endless amount of doors beyond this point. Pathways that one of them will never have the chance to take. The fear of losing his freedom is what makes him so capable of stealing hers. If it must be done, he will shove her back into that bird cage, and he will close the door.

When he strikes, he does so to catch her off guard, but she is just agile enough to reduce his clean cut to a scratch across her cheek. He means it when he thinks to himself that he wants this to end quickly; a blade sinking deep into a pupil, one moment clinging to your life and the next gently letting go. He knows this is cruel, and unfair, asking her to lie down and accept a thing that terrifies him, too. He stares at the thin line of blood dripping down the side of her face as she looks at him, and terribly, he knows that he is willing to make that same cut again.

"Nice swing. Someone teach you how to use that?"

He laughs dryly, not quite sure how to treat a friend he has actively chosen to kill. Her blade is just as hungry as his own, her movements matching his for speed. He leans back just in time for her attack to draw a thin slash above his collarbone. His skin tingles from the ache, nerve endings split, but he'll take this wound to a gash across his throat. "I'm only as educated as you are, it seems." He begins to pace, circling her and eyeing her for any potential weak points. Ideally, cruelly, he wants to end this with a critical blow. He wants to run from this like the coward he tries to hide within beautiful lyrics.

But even if this must be a death by a thousand cuts, he will stand the test of endurance. "Where I work, I've learned all the places to stab a fish to get it to stop squirming. I assume it's about the same with humans." He closes in, predator and prey exchanging roles, footsteps amplified by the roar of the crowd wanting more violence than this betrayal. His rapier gnashes its teeth to bite. "And I guess you can say I'm something of a fast learner."

romeo attacks greer | rapier

DbrHo0_WtVsword
8.5

sword

[d1b. xylia fray ♕ kaяi]

It's cruel, really.

This is perhaps the cruelest form of Games they have yet to design.

Forced to fight no other than your District partner and if Greer had to place money on it, she was positive that some of the other pairs were sure to know each other. Maybe the two of them guy got lucky. They had just met. No personal connections, no ties that bind them.

Just a girl and and a guy who met on a train with perhaps the unluckiest fate of them all.

There would be no remorse when one of them died. At least, she would feel none, and she assumes Romeo will feel the same. Based on what little conversations they've had, they both understand what must be done, and there will be no hard feelings about it. Neither one asked for this, but both are asking a more powerful being for the opportunity to survive. And if that means killing someone from the same District as them? As Romeo once said -

So be it.

Her weapon comes crashing down, but he's quick, limber, and manages to avoid the brunt of it. She can't help but mutter curses under her breath, wishing and praying she was better equipped to handle a sword. Or at least the Gamemakers throw her a bone and have offered them a spear or knife instead. Her mind wanders back to her interview and she wonders if it was on purpose.

Perhaps they wish to see her fail.

Perhaps they wish to see her dead.

""I'm only as educated as you are, it seems."

He begins to circle her, like a lion hunting it's pray, stalking her, looking for the best opportunity to strike. She mirrors him, never allowing him more than a second to aim for a weak spot. She chuckles as he speaks. He has figured it out, she is not completely defenseless. She is not some soft spoken girl without a clue on how to protect herself. No, she was a fighter.

With a pretty good idea on how to survive.

"Where I work, I've learned all the places to stab a fish to get it to stop squirming. I assume it's about the same with humans. And I guess you can say I'm something of a fast learner."

Greer pondered his thoughts for a second too long. He saw the opportunity and he took it. In one lunging motion he struck, his blade coming into direct contact with her thigh. It burned like fire.

But she bit her lip and refused to scream.

"So you know the way of a spear," She can't help but smirk, even as blood drips down her bare leg. "I guess that's not surprising for District Four. Father taught me how to protect myself, but never with this," she holds up her sword and looks and it's crimson tipped blade in mystery. "I'm used to dummies though, they don't move much at all,"

If only she had more practice.

If only she had ever touched a sword before this moment.

If only-

"But you're much quicker."

She lunges.

If only they could both survive.

( greer attacks romeo ; sword )
fiJtiFYp0Asword
( 0.0 )

sword

[d7f amber bosch 🌿 tris]

"So you know the way of a spear. I guess that's not surprising for District Four."

This simple truth has stood the test of time. The only purpose of a weapon is to cut through an obstacle. Be it hunger, war, or even a girl from home speaking fondly of her father. She regards the man in a way that he can't really fathom, or even sympathize with. Thinking about his family makes his fingertips go numb from the static, the quiet calamity he chose to evade. Now, so much nervous energy collects in the palms of his hands that his touch alone can cause flames to ignite.

But his expression is like still water — heavy lidded gaze as if avoiding sleep, not death. It's almost ironic, how this is the only one of his terrors he never tried to flee.

To him, the blade in his grasp feels no different than any of the others he has held. His heart thrums in his chest, every breath a practice in calming himself. Of course this is not easy for him, but he has no interest playing with his food, so to speak. This is a tragedy, a father who actually loves his child watching through a television screen in horror. Romeo is a stranger's worst nightmare stepping into reality. This is what he is willing.

If this is the only path that leads to home, then he is already walking it. "Father taught me how to protect myself, but never with this." Her sword glints harmlessly as she lifts it, her brown eyes trained on the splotch of blood at the tip as if she's not sure how it got there. His chest aches with a phantom sting, a little pinch in the nerve, and he reminds himself that she is only doing the same as him. If he does not finish her, she will finish him.

He imagines all the chapters of his life coming to a close. "I'm used to dummies though, they don't move much at all." Scarlet drips from her thigh, a stain that will not be bleached from this earth regardless of what happens here. The both of them are people fated to leave scars. He moves with the deftness of someone with keen reflexes, and the desperation to survive — lurching in for the offensive and then quickly retreating like the tide. "But you're much quicker." He knows this. Shamelessly, he must stand here and watch his hand carry out this act.

It's the only way he can open the door. One step closer to freedom is worth a body's weight in blood.

To Greer's misfortune, she is not a girl who speaks lies. Even as she charges forward with her blade sweeping, he quickly steps to the side, heartbeat drumming louder inside his ears. He wastes no time in taking the advantage of the opening, aiming his thin blade at her exposed side. This must end quickly. With each stab, he can feel a little more of his peace of mind crumble away. But he cannot stop. This rage is unending.

"There's only one rule to swordplay," he says this with a somber cadence, hollow stare fixed on the gush of blood his weapon has drawn. "Aim where they'll bleed the most."

romeo attacks greer | rapier

ZAXj|opXYxsword
8.0

sword

[d1b. xylia fray ♕ kaяi]

It was excruciating.

A pain that she thought she would never have to feel.

A sharp ended sword cutting into her again and again and again. It was a circle of hell she couldn't escape, one that she thought she would never even enter, but knew she would now never be able to leave. She had been too focused on her poor aim and the sound of her sword as it cut through the air, only coming in contact with the ground, making a large thud. She cursed and by the time she looked up again it was too late.

"Aim where they'll bleed the most"

Greer blinked.

And his sword was in her chest before he quickly dislodged it. In a matter of seconds her white sheet dress turned crimson, resembling a color much closer to the sash splayed across her chest than the color of the clouds the piece of fabric originally mirrored. The grass around her stained red and the fear of Death finally stuck her heart.

"You seem like the type who normally likes to play with people's hearts through song verses," she gasped a bit as air entered the new found wound in the center of her chest. "Just for reference, it's over here a tad more," she said as she took her bloodied palm and tapped herself about 3 inches away from the sword shaped gap in her chest.

"There has to be an easier way to a girl's heart, right?"

She felt herself growing weaker. Each second that passed by her legs grew more tired and it became harder and harder to see straight. There was one Romeo, then two, then three. She wasn't sure which one was real, which ones were figments of her imagination, and which ones were tricks of her eyes from the blood that had splattered in. The taste of iron filled her mouth, the original strike of his sword refusing to stop flowing.

"I've never been a quitter, ya know,"

Greer aimed for the middle.

And hoped for the best.

( greer attacks romeo ; sword )
F1bOY2uk1hsword
( 4.5 )


sword

[d7f amber bosch 🌿 tris]

His wine colored sash catches the wind like a battle flag rising — rapier sinking into Greer's chest just a hair's breadth away from her heart. The thin blade is an extension of himself, an urgency to stop the girl's life before she can do the same to him. He clutches to time like a creature of greed, a prince and his terrible, beautiful hoard. She points to where he should have been aiming, and he focuses his gaze there. Tucks the fact away in his mind for safekeeping. He will not miss his target twice.

When she speaks of music, his smile is small and quiet, nostalgic like she has mentioned an old friend. "You're not wrong." She is losing so much blood, and all he can do is stand there and watch as it seeps into the earth. For each wound, he inflicts another elsewhere. What has happened to that quick, painless death he wished for her? Hard as he tries, she refuses to fall, and now he is prepared to cut to the bone. "I'd do anything to be in a bar right now, with my guitar, singing to a drunk crowd that's not even listening to me." His eyes are aflame with determination, a silent plea to remain.

"Even kill you."

His steel and her flesh separate, an awful squelch — "there has to be an easier way to a girl's heart, right?" Regardless of the circumstances, Greer stands on her feet as if she's holding the winning hand, and perhaps she is. That's the gamble of all this. Each time he charges in for the kill, so too does she gain the opening to strike. They are vipers dancing, bad omens haunting a space. "Easy isn't going to get me out of here." He imagines a life where he is allowed to go home to his van in only a week's time, watching the sunset over the ocean with a joint between his fingers.

He thinks about how he is willing to do whatever it takes to achieve that.

When he steps closer, he simply reaches out with an arm and attempts to deflect her swing, taking a shallow gash across his forearm. The pain is nothing more than a steady sing, a guitar string vibrating, he draws back and wills his weapon to land where her finger had been resting. "I've never been a quitter, ya know." He will do whatever is necessary to hear one of those exit gates open. Standing in her presence, attempting to snuff out her life, his sigh is a cutting sound.

"Why else do you think I'm trying so hard to kill you?"

romeo attacks greer | rapier

E52d7Xeq6Psword
4.5

sword

[d1b. xylia fray ♕ kaяi]

The ground runs crimson.

A river of blood surrounds her feet and she is the one who creates the waves. Her leg, her arm, and the smallest trickle from her cheek help to stain the ground red. It adds to the various shades already splattered across the ground from the other tributes. Painting a picture of lives lost and those yet to come. Death stands in the corner.

Waiting.

Watching.

Arms outstretched to take His new friend home.

A shiver runs down Greer's spine. He's closer than every before. She can feel him lurking behind her, His eyes lingering on every drop of her blood that falls to the ground and adds to the ever growing river. He lusts for someone's death.

He knows this will be someone's downfall.

He knows it is only a matter of time before he can strike.

"I'd do anything to be in a bar right now, with my guitar, singing to a drunk crowd that's not even listening to me. Even kill you," says Romeo, determination lighting his eyes. She can't help but laugh, even as her body slowly begins to shut itself down. The similarities between the two almost outweigh the difference. They were both alone. Both desperate.

Willing to risk it all to survive.

"I would do anything, and I wouldn't regret it one bit."

The promise she made to her father each night after they finished practicing plays over and over and over again in her head. It was a nasty reminder of how she was slowly dying, probably as he watched, and all her words were for nothing. She may have said it, she may have meant it.

But maybe she just wasn't good enough.

"Why else do you think I'm trying so hard to kill you?"

Even with half her blood volume pooled on the green grass, Greer manages to move just enough that his sword doesn't slice through her neck, but instead leaves a matching mark to her cheek across her forehead. Blood rushes into her eyes and she forces herself to wipe it away with the back of her free arm. The boy is now bloodstained and she is unsure if it is from the scarlet liquid that runs into her eyes.

Or her own blood, staining his white gown crimson.

A smile plays on her lips as her mouth fills with the taste of iron. Death inches closer, but she holds her sword up high.

"You may try, but that does not guarantee that you will succeed."

And she swings blindly.

Hoping and praying with all her might that she somehow keep the promise she made all those nights ago.

( greer attacks romeo ; sword )
SmDDG4RanMsword
( result )



sword

[d7f amber bosch 🌿 tris]

"I would do anything, and I wouldn't regret it one bit."

She says this wearing her own blood as a mourning shroud. Half girl, half ghost.

All terror.

So long as Greer Halstead breathes, Romeo cannot feel at peace.

It's not her fault that she's been chosen as the first obstacle to stand in the way of his freedom — but he is hers, too. That makes it harder for him to hate her, to conjure rage in the place of the sorrow that has always eaten at all his softest parts. They are mirror reflections cutting into one another; where her skin splits, he can feel his own blood rushing out. Two prisoners forced to pay the ultimate price for a war that neither of them had any say in. Nothing good can thrive in this space.

It is a festering wound, a dark void spilling out melancholy and fear.

"I believe you," he says evenly, no intentions of coming across as condescending. She has sunk her nails into her life, and she will not let go willingly. Of course he can believe that. Because he's standing on the other side of it — holding on just as tightly, just as desperately. He glances down at the scar visible on his collarbone, the dried line of red, and the various stings he can feel throughout his body. "I'm sure your father is proud of you, Greer." As sure as he is that the man must be absolutely terrified right now.

And for good reason.

Their dance continues. Shark circling shark — survivor killing survivor. His blade draws a shallow line across her forehead, and hers bites at the bare skin of his shoulder as she swings wide. "You may try, but that does not guarantee that you will succeed." He can feel his mortality drifting to the ground like dried petals, the stench of decay is so heavy here. His grip on his weapon remains steadfast, his footsteps leading him ever-forward.

"I'm not looking for a guarantee here." He wants it to be quick, he has always wanted it to be quick — but he will carve away the very essence of her if that is what it will take. Piece by piece until he finally hears the click of a lock. "I'm just trying to open the door."

Tidal wave crashing, he does what he must to quiet her fight.

romeo attacks greer | rapier

nFldajIsuUsword
3.5

sword

[d1b. xylia fray ♕ kaяi]

It could have been anybody different.

There were twenty-two other tributes to choose from.

But it was him and her.

And the crowd that watched from above, thirsty for blood.

It was cruel and unnecessary. Hadn't they tortured them enough? They continue to be a pawn in their Games, and it wouldn't end here. There would never be a 'checkmate', there would never be a king opposite that would fall to the ground, even when the crown lay atop the queen's head. Forever a pawn, never the true winner, no matter what they say, no matter how loudly the crowd cheers.

Forced to play in their Games.

Or forced to die.

So, she stands across from the only boy here who reminds her of home, the only boy who could have the smallest potential to understand her. And she was forced to stand there and attempt to plunge her weapon into his heart. A chance to survive.

But Greer knew she would never be able to live again.

"I'm sure your father is proud of you, Greer."

She froze at the mention of her father, a complete stall. Her body tensed, defensive position forgotten as she stared at Romeo. Her stare had gone blank, not a note of anger or sadness, just a look of emptiness. "I appreciate it, but don't pretend to know my father," her voice monotone, merely stating a matter of fact.

"I made him a promise, ya know," her words barely more than a whisper. So soft that they may have gotten lost on the wind.

Greer was unsure if they ever reached his ears.

He dances away from her blade once more, just scraping his shoulder as he skipped by. The sword was beginning to feel heavy in her hand, but she forced herself to hold on. His weapon cut quickly through the air and she brought hers to meet it. The crunching of metal on metal echoes throughout the silent bloodthirsty crowd as they watch in anticipation. She felt it slice into her leg somewhere, adding to her newly found crimson dress.

But she could no longer feel pain.

"I'm not looking for a guarantee here. I'm just trying to open the door."

"You want to open the door?" Her headed nodded to the twelve doors that surrounded the pair. Her free hand grasped the key ring sitting at her hip, skillfully unclipping it from her side. "Here," they keys jingled as they landed on the blood soaked ground near his feet. "It'll be easier than looting them off my body,"

Death was near.

And Greer wanted to welcome him with open arms.

But she wouldn't do it without a fight.

( greer attacks romeo ; sword )
qGYfYBi8misword
( 8.0 )




sword

[d7f amber bosch 🌿 tris]

"I appreciate it, but don't pretend to know my father."

And how could he? Boy orphaned by his own loneliness. Speaking of family is not a particular skill of Romeo's — but this? Forcibly removing people from his life until he's the only one left standing in the room? He feels with a terrible sense of dread that he is becoming particularly good at it. The severing.

Where his flames rise, hers flare in turn. "I made him a promise, ya know." But those words don't sound entirely for his ears, a whisper soaked in deep sadness. That deal she made with her father has nothing to do with him, but he still tilts his head to the side to listen to her, to continue their endless prowl around one another. What's scarier, a sword's edge or the teeth of a wolf? Eventually, one of them will have to drop dead.

He remains with his blade cutting away at her, and still so holds her ground, flinging herself forward and backwards to dodge critical attacks. Nothing in her will allow this to be a quick and easy process. He gazes at the damp earth, the sickly sheen of scarlet that has now seeped into everything. For the rest of time, some essence of Greer will fester here in this place, a haunting. Romeo ignores the wailing of omens in his mind.

"You want to open the door? Here." Her stare cuts to the locked entrances forming a circle around them, before she reaches for the ring of keys at her hip, tossing them at the sand before Romeo's feet. He glances down at them, considering his choice, until she speaks again. "It'll be easier than looting them off my dead body." This unnerves him as much as he recognizes it is true.

Quickly, he swoops down to grab them, but in the blur he misses the moment she thrusts outward with her weapon. Another bite of steel scratches his shoulder, but this time it carves deeper, slicing up and down into his back as he's crouched on the ground. He rises to his feet, bloody and burning and a new set of keys looped around his waist. "This doesn't change what has to happen to you." He stalks closer, voice calm and steady, but his weapon raised.

"That promise will not be kept."

romeo attacks greer | rapier

LFrHco8Yeysword
4.0

sword

[d1b. xylia fray ♕ kaяi]

There was no turning back now.

Greer had dove head first and now she had no choice but to sink or swim.

And her lungs were quickly filling with water.

But still, she refused to sink. Each time her head cracked the surface she gasped, begging for air, only to be knocked back down again by the quick slice of Romeo's rapier. Blood begins to mix itself with the water, but she still forces herself to try and swim. Somehow, she was still alive, still floating.

Even if only barely.

He continued to watch her with somber eyes as she attempted to fight for her life. With each fleeting steep she took, desperate to avoid the strike of his blade, each time she swung her own sword searching for flesh to cut into, he watched. It was obvious he wanted to put her out of her misery. It was obvious he pitied her. She never wanted anyone's pity.

Not when her brother died.

Not when her mother died.

Especially not now.

But she bit her tongue, and gripped the hilt of her sword tight until the tops of her knuckles turned white. Pity might follow her, but she could do her best to give Romeo and the crowd every reason to relinquish that pity. Greer Halstead is not a girl to look down upon. She is not a girl who throws down her weapon in preparation to die.

She is not a girl who will quit without a fight.

"This doesn't change what has to happen to you. That promise will not be kept."

He creeps closer to her and raises his sword to make the final blow.

But she's still quick enough. The hostile blade only manages to clip the back of her forearm as she ducks, adding a new cut to add to her collection.

"I'm not a quitter, Romeo. I'm not going to just toss my weapon and run," she motions towards the watching crowd, as if they would let her. "You're going to have to be the one to do it," she slowly raises her weapon, ready for her final strike. "And I want you to look me in the eyes when you do."

Besides, promises are nothing more than words.

And if there is any lesson Greer learned-

It's to not make promises you can't keep.

( greer attacks romeo ; sword )
Lm5w03yVrBsword
( 4.0 )

sword