who let the hag out? / felicity, post bb.

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

they call me a menace,
they say that i’m cursed.



felicity carrow,
district three.

Waiting for Lionel takes something out of me. I stared at the door for awhile. That's what I keep telling myself as I wander amongst these trees, doing my best to keep my eyes on the ground and walk away from any trails of red I spy. Not a part of me has any interest in continuing the bloodshed right now. It makes me sick to think everyone was so willing to shed blood as quickly. Was the Capitol mixing paint thinner into the food or something? Is that what makes kids so willing to kill? Streamlineing the adjustment process by poisoning us all. I'd believe it. A chilled wind whips through the tall, narrow trees here. The further I push, the less I see signs of others, but the more the back of my neck begins to tingle as if eyes are there, staring down the back of my dyed blonde head. "Yeah, har har, very funny," I say aloud, though quietly, unsure if I'm hearing things. As if in response, the shadows shift, and the branches shadow shifts towards mine. That nearly gets me running. Nearly. I've been on the wrong end of one too many of Abraham's disappointed glares to be afraid of something as measly as a few dead trees though. Even the ones that whisper my name on the wind. Rhythmically, I press my thumb nail against the pads of all my fingers, rotating over and over and over again though the ash and the fog. There's something to the way it shifts around, as if curious, coming in close to get a better look.  It's only after a ways of walking that I stop to wonder if they were showing me a path the whole time. My misty guide through the woods.  Before me stands a hut, a cabin if I want to be generous. The roof sags, leaving it lopsided. The mists part further as I approach, revealing scattered piles of ash, and a long abandoned fire pit; soot creeps up the walls everywhere, and I realize this whole place must have gone up in smoke at some point. As I walk up the steps, hands catch on the wind and push the front door open. It squeaks on its hinges a bit, as if to say hello. "Well hello, beautiful," I say as my boot crosses the threshold. My hands are on the ugly, broken, tangled mess of a generator immediately. "Fancy meeting you here."

and if love is real, maybe i’m just too bad
to remember how good it feels.



felicity will try to fix generator in the charred cabin.

M0ujxlFSuI1-10

1-10

[mat]

Before Lucky could even notice the cabin behind the dense barren trees, he heard its machinations powering up. The low hum drawled ahead in the darkness. The light from one of the rooms inside reflected across his eye, guiding him. It couldn't be the lodge, could it? No. He was at least a ten-minute walk from the lodge's gravel hill. Lucky pet the squirming creature in his jacket pocket. It was now, and its antennas stood upright as it examined the area as thoroughly as Lucky.

The light ahead swayed with the wind that carried through a shattered window. "You know what's in here?" He whispered to the thing. Its response was to burrow deeper into his shirt, half its eye peering through like a little kid watching a horror movie for the first time. Lucky shrugged it off, crediting the cold temperature to the thing's nerves. "Who am I kidding? You can't answer me!" Lucky scratched the back of the creature's body.

There was only one cannon shot in the arena so far: twenty-three remained. And power does not flick on and off like its own in arenas like these. Everything falls into one of two categories: intentional or caused by another tribute. Lucky wagered the latter, given how close the lodge was.

Lucky took one breath beside the corner of the building and watched ashes scatter off of it and into the wind. Just like everything else in this part of the arena, it was destroyed. He scouted the building, trying to find the best point of entry. The front door? Immediately after the generator outside called everyone's attention to it? When Lucky reached the front steps, he wrapped around the opposite way. The back of the building had a slight opening from the destruction caused by whatever disaster ravaged the rest of it. He slid through, right to left, weapon in hand and ready for anything. The pressure of his sidestep collapsed a case of soot from the uneven roof right over his head. His hard hat and goggles kept most of it from getting onto his face or into his eye. His companion sneezed. "Sh," Lucky commanded its silence, patting it on the head until it sunk deeper into his pocket.

After spending so much time wandering through dim light or complete darkness, it was nice to finally have some light. Someone (or something...? Lucky was scared of neither,) rustled down the hall from his entry point. Lucky searched through the cabinets and shelves, hoping to find anything that the lodge couldn't provide. It was a goldmine back there, but Lucky was in search of diamonds.

[ lucky scavenges in the charred cabin ]

gSoQLEhE_h1-7

[ SOUP. ]

Now, Lucky had height on him, but these cabinets felt like they were made for giants. One swipe and he missed the cabinet's knob. He jumped for it this time. He supposed the high cabinets had some chance of withstanding the fire and leaving something salvageable in its wake. His fingers scratched the knob. "One final try," he muttered under his breath toward his pal.

He made air on the final attempt, his hand gripped the cabinet's knob, and he tugged. The hinges, however, had other plans. The cabinet door detached, sending Lucky fumbling toward the ground. He saved himself from a total crack, but the thud from his butt dropping onto the ashy ground was accompanied by a long "Owwww. Fah-" Oblivious as he was to his surroundings, Lucky minded his manners with expletives, just as he was raised. A can dropped into the bed of ashes beside him.

Hopeful, Lucky turned the label: FlickerMac n' Cheese Soup: now with glacier blue food coloring! His hat clunked in the ashes.

Great. Just great.

(had permission from kaitlin to join in uwu)1-7

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

they call me a menace,
they say that i’m cursed.



felicity carrow,
district three.

Freezing and aching from the cold walk through the mists, a part of me doesn't want to walk away from the generator after she sputters to life with a creak and a groan. I press my palms together, rubbing them against each other over the warmth coming from the exhaust pipe. It splutters with ugly, dark smoke, but I have a feeling it's just residual from whatever blaze sent this place up in smoke and left it the pile of ashes it stands as now. I could stay here. Hole up. The generator kicked on the light though, and across the room stand a collection of porcelain dolls, staring me down with glassy eyes. I know they're just toys, and maybe it's because Mom never really instilled liking them into me as a child, but they raise the hairs on the back of my neck. It's like they're guarding that ladder they stand under, little toy solders on watch for the rest of eternity. The dolls and I have a long stare down before I mutter "fuck you guys," and stomp up the ladder. I don't overthink it when one of them suddenly falls from the shelf, her face shattering on the wooden floor. I don't think about it at all. Two very bad things happen in quick succession. The first can mean one of two things, neither of which particularly stirs excitement. There's the sound of something clattering, and I wince as it's followed by a heavy thud. Either I've been followed and should be preparing for someone to jump me from the shadows, or someone else stumbled in a back exit. Neither option appeals, frankly. They were probably lured in through a back exit by the goddamn homing generator I just set off like a lighthouse. I gotta get out of this place. Weighing the more alive of two nightmares, I slip away from the rotten corpse in the attic. Chipped blue nail digging into my palm, reopening crescent moons I dug there earlier, I tip-toe across the soot coved floor towards the back room. Swallowing, I pull the dart gun that had come to me earlier, drifting through the trees attached to a silver parachute. I'll admit, the first thing I see kind of disquiets. Not in a bad way. If anything, I lower the dart gun a little when I part the door, wincing as it squeaks on rusted hinges. The creature on the other side of the threshold looked like something out of one of the comic books I tried to lift from the magazine section at the corner stores when I was a kid. One eye, tiny shoulders hunched in as if to cower. It makes this odd, surprised sound before ducking towards the object of all my worst nightmares. "Couldn't use the front door?" I manage to choke out. I brush my finger against the trigger.

and if love is real, maybe i’m just too bad
to remember how good it feels.



felicity scavenges charred cabin.

QKWsFMnUVT1-7

thermal blanket -2
1-7

[mat]

At least the bed of ashes was there to break his fall from the high cabinets to the floor. Still, though, Lucky's back ached, and the feathers from the angel wings attached to his harness tickled his nose mockingly. The antennas of his companion brushed his forehead, sweeping the hair from his face and ash from his eyes. He caught his breath on the floor, rolling the can of soup around with his forearm to build up some positive energy he lost.

"Couldn't use the front door?"

Lucky's companion rolled up in his shirt. He looked up, or rather behind him toward the voice. It was the 10. Startled, Lucky pulled himself up partway and pointed his spear toward her gun. 10. He was not speaking of Sage, the girl from District Ten who awkwardly attended his birthday party. 10– as in the one from District Three, who got the highest score of everyone, even he and Gunner each scored nines. He knew things about her, here and there, but judged her competency by the number she received that night. Lucky took her seriously. His free hand raised, he backed up away from Felicity. "I like taking the back door. Taking the back is not a crime!"

What were the odds of him winning his way toward her, gun against spear? Lucky stood straight now, moving further toward the opening of the cabin he entered from in the first place. He could charge at her, risk the shot or two he'd take in the chest on the way. He could throw the spear, too, but that'd be his one defense gone if it didn't kill her right away. Lucky's companion poked its head from his pocket, nervously blinking as it stared down the gun. She had a friend as well, a monkey that appeared chill to the touch.

"Rule number one of parenting: don't fight in front of the kids, right?" That was the saying, right?

Lucky kept his spear pointed toward her, with his heels dragging backward toward the exit. It was her space if she wanted it that badly!