don't wanna agonize / marceline & izzy [day 1]

[andromache s. ⚔️ [d1b] sucy]

Marceline stumbles out of the cabin, finally starting to feel the pain in her leg. Freezing cold air immediately stings the gash on her cheek, shocks her to life, to her senses. She can’t just run. Others fled before her. They could be anywhere. They could’ve gotten their hands on anything. More than adrenaline, it’s paranoia that pumps through her, that keeps her standing for the time being.

She pauses, for just a moment, in the door as the scope of the arena begins to dawn on her. The cold isn’t just freezing, it’s beyond that. She’s never felt anything like it in her life – at home, when she was a kid, her sisters would pile on top of each other during the winters, and in the last few years, she layered her own handcrafted blankets and sweaters on top of herself. Here, there’s nothing. No family, no love. She can’t create anything here, only destroy; she’s already proven that much to herself. Azure. Marceline looks at her hands. There’s blood and something else on her knuckles, and bits of blonde hair stuck to her gloves. She shakes her hands. The something else slithers onto the ground. A shocked cry catches in her throat, escaping as an undignified yelp.

It’s little more than a moment, but it’s enough time for a fellow Bloodbath escapee to catch up. Marceline spins around and jumps back, holding up her wretched hands in defense. Whether it’s to tell them she means no harm, or to scare them, she’s not sure.

It’s the girl from Six.

"I don’t want to hurt you," stammers Marceline, backing away some more. Her wounded leg shakes underneath her. Five minutes ago, she would have added that she was unarmed, but now Marceline doesn’t know if that’s strictly true. "What happened in there was a mistake."

If she can survive this, if she can regroup with Váli and Hal, then that'll be good enough for now. Thinking any farther ahead just isn't possible right now.

table credit to napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. !


title ref.

[lucius branwen / 10 — fox]

🌱

i'm in a bad horror movie.

this is the scene where Sera and i'd be laughing at the screen. she'd say well that's not even realistic, like c'mon, lanky lil girl kills someone with her bare hands in the third act? and i'd still eat it up though. that's my favourite genre. final girl goes feral.

well, turns out what do i know.

Eight holds up her hands. something dull pink and raw slides down her wrists to the floor, plops there at her feet. the viscera of the freshly dead. nothing like the gray-hued organs floating in liquid, mouths of dirt.

i try to scoot by her, try not to step in it, the three ice picks gripped in a fist, metal catching the glare of winter light. she's staring at the blue glint of the needle as she backs off and says "i don't want to hurt you.”

there's the sound of blade cutting through muscle behind us, a kind of wet, muffled noise. the snap of bone, crunches that pop through the cries.

yeah, she doesn't want to hurt me, sure. nice, good, please excuse me–

she's wide-eyed, she's stammering, a mistake, a mistake, she's saying, bearing her hands like she can't believe they're hers. i look from the blood, to her face, then back to the blood again. she had to have meant it, even a little bit. who the fuck crushes someone’s skull by accident.

i could laugh.

"yeah, tell that to the girl you killed." i go through the door, then step by her, length of the ice pick between us. "get away from me."

and then, "get outta here. they're so gonna kill you for that."

[andromache s. ⚔️ [d1b] sucy]

"Yeah, tell that to the girl you killed."

The girl you killed. The girl you killed. Marceline’s head is spinning. Like a dancer, she spots herself using the middle of her three ice picks, somehow staying standing. She’s been under pressure, been in danger – hidden from peacekeepers in dumpsters, dodged bullies, fucked up a garment. It’s that same heart pounding, chest heaving feeling on overdrive, but then – Six.

"Get away from me."

Because she’ll attack if she doesn’t? Or because she thinks Marceline will ape out, or something? Marceline takes a half step back into the cabin, giving Six the room to move. She sucks in her stomach as the ice picks pass by, gleaming dangerously. They look like icicles themselves, like they’d flip a switch and make your blood run cold out of you if they got under your skin. But that’s not possible; despite all of the ice and snow, the blood on Marceline’s face, leg, and hands is warm and living.

She knows the girl – Azure, she has a name – is dead, but how can she be? How can she be dead when she’s alive, her blood pumping atop Marceline’s own pulse?

"Get outta here. They’re so gonna kill you for that," says Six, through the door now. Marceline, hot tears brimming, nods. Eventually they will, but for now, Six won’t. She releases a long held breath and takes off, ducking for cover nearby, rummaging around in the snow for anything that might be useful to put in her bag.

Tell that to the girl you killed.

She killed her. With one blow. Why had she cried on Reaping Day all these years?

items collected in maintenance. 

table credit to napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. !