gotta escape that void // cool kids+needles, day 3

[Python]

j u n o
b r i m s t o n e.

This was a tale of oddities so far. Juno and the crew had traced ashes all the way to a clearing, which seemed to be burning in the shape of a perfect circle. There had been no tributes nearby, and no explanation as to how it all started. Juno thought maybe it was Gamemaker inference to disturb their minds, and that idea was reinforced the next morning when they were awoken by the worst screech he had ever heard. He jumped like a cat, almost knocking his little seal friend, who he had named Roller, into the snow, and reached clumsily for his sword before a voice rang out.

When he realized it was the Gamemakers, he apologetically stroked Roller and lowered himself back down onto his sleeping bag. He silently brooded about an oncoming storm; this was clearly a way to push tributes together in a claustrophobic setting. But why? Were they not dying fast enough? "We should get moving," he said, pulling his bag closer. "I don't want to find out if they're telling the truth or not." He tried not to sound irritated. All things considered, he was feeling calm about the situation, but that sense of dread was manifesting. The calm before the storm is what they called it, when the birds flew from their branches and the insects ceased to chirp. He would be waiting with bated breath for an ambush.

They reached the mines before the winds could give chase. He wanted to remind Marcellus and Xov to keep their guards up, but he didn't think they needed that advice. It would only create more tension, reminding them of what they already knew. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening here.

What he didn't expect was for the trap to be so horribly obvious. The rocks collapsing behind them, blocking them in, there was no subtlety in their plan. "Oh, man.." He hauled Roller into his bag and stuck the blade of his sword into the ground. The walls were caving in around them, and he barely had a functioning knee. What supported it was a few bandages and a makeshift splint they crafted out of wood.

"Move! Don't focus on me!" He had a headstart, but with his sword functioning as cane, it wouldn't be long before they passed him.

dmg received
LXJI_vbai24-94-9

[andromache s. ⚔️ [d1b] sucy]

The mines, in Marceline’s opinion, were already preferable to the outside, even before this damn snowstorm was thrown at them. They’re roofed, they’re dark — oh, she was sort of describing being inside one of the dumpsters outside her work, wasn’t she? She’d do anything for some halfwit Peacekeeper finding her to be all she had to worry about now.

Cruel as they are, the Gamemakers barely give them enough time to make it to the melting ice sheet and back that morning. But they need water. Marceline drank the contents of her canteen on the way there — quickly, before it could freeze in her hands. But with the wind, and the snow, they’d been half blind out there, scavenging around in the middle of a great, dark, white blanket of falling globs of hail and snow. Making their way back was no easy feat either. That they’d found their way home (because what else could be home here, if not the little room the gods supposedly opened for Vali) actually surprised Marceline. Still, even under the cover of the mines, the storm persists, billowing in Marceline’s ears. The whistles and the howls from the wind outside fight their way into the tunnels, echoing; but there are other sounds too. Sounds and signs of somebody else being here, in their tunnel.

“Move! Don’t focus on me!”

Marceline’s ears prick up. She’d been about to whisper something to the others, but then, Immediately after the boy’s voice rings out, there’s more noise. Buckling wooden supports crack in warning, right as the walls begin to waver around them. She looks back and forth between her allies, brain whirring as she tries to place the voice they’d just heard — there’s no time for that! Marceline pats both of her allies on the arms wildly, and yells, “Come on! This place might be a powder keg!”

She takes off on her shaky legs, willing them to just keep working, for just as long as she needs. Marceline is reminded, briefly, of a time back home, of a long repressed memory. A factory caught alight, and as the ceiling collapsed in on itself, people ran and tripped over each other to try to live. People had been malicious, apparently. They’d pushed each other over to save their own hides. Her cousin worked there at the time; she got out alright. Marceline wonders if this is how she felt that day, heart racing, as scared of the voices and steps behind her as she was of the scattering debris.

damage taken

p8zvlRmK6U4-9

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

4-9

[august vance d7b [Bella]]

cPFD_RzXDU4-9
[POST VOID: OUT OF ORDER] - gm dars

4-7

[d9 kristof parks {ems}]

It's hard, yet no matter where he turns, Hal focuses on everything around him. His friends, the tiny creature, it gives him strength and courage, but knowing that this will eventually come to an end keeps him going even if it ends in death. Of course, the idea is to keep going, to find something to fight for, to manage when the struggle is getting worse than it already is, yet a racing mind, thoughts running rampant keep him awake even when everything seems relatively calm. But nothing here is calm. It's a chaotic storm waiting to spring to life at any possible moment.

I hope I'm stronger than the storm.

It's easier to sleep. Everything is warmer, and maybe the exhaustion is making it easier to close his eyes and drift away, but tonight it all seems too peaceful. Trusting that the slightest sound will wake him up, trusting his allies won't betray him. It's a fear, but sometimes the greatest rewards come from the risks.

It's only when the voice of Ivan echoes through his mind that he's on his feet. It seems it's easier. It seems that trusting the game, that doing what he has to do, making sure everything works out perfectly - is anything perfect? But it doesn't matter. It's only one step after another, and he finds himself back in the mine promising his friend that he'll return for him soon. It's terrifying, being in the dark, not knowing where anyone is, yet he trusts his ears to listen to the sounds.

Someone shouts.

Marceline tells them to run.

The walls, they're rumbling, threatening to crumble on top of them.

"Come on we got to go!"

His heart is racing as he sprints forward only stopping to hold out his hand reaching for Vali hoping she manages to find it in the midst of the storm.

"It's a trap!"

Everything here is a trap. Everything is falling down around him, and he's terrified of getting crushed.

Maybe that's the goal. Everyone dies beneath the weight of the mine. Maybe someone would survive if they outran the debris, yet it all seems impossible.

He grips the handle of his weapon ready to slash at anyone or anything standing in his way. This is a selfish game.

If one of my allies dies, at least I'll somehow hopefully still be alive.

Credit to Pogue <3

damage
HMP1y_GGMX4-94-9

[august vance d7b [Bella]]

A voice came from above like a farmer calling in the cattle.

Xov couldn’t tell which of the Gamemakers it was—they were all the same to her. Named things were persons, and the voices from above were something else, god-like beings thirsty for blood. Nothing like the predictable pantheon she’d been raised on.

She looked to Juno like a reflex, had found herself doing that often, his presence a safe harbor. If there could be such a thing here.

”We should get moving. I don’t want to find out if they’re telling the truth or not.”

Gus the buffalo followed her at the heel like a sad puppy as they beat feet towards the mines, but when they reached the entrance, she told him, “Not you—wait here. I’ll come find you when I get out.” A promise she had no authority to make, but in the mines, he could only be an adorable tripping hazard.

In District Twelve, they used to take school field trips to the mines, yearly reminders of their place at the bottom of Panem's hierarchy. So low they were born to labor where the sun had never shone since the beginning of time. The Thaos had been lucky to escape the profession, living from her mother's apothecary trade, and from the land they lived on. What an ironic twist of fate that she had ended up back here anyway.

Xov wondered if her bones too would become fossils here, like the dinosaurs whose carbon built the walls around them. If she would return to the womb of the earth all too literally, here in the warm wet dark.

In the dim light, she grasped in both directions for the jackets of Juno and Marcus, fingers clinging nervously to the polyester. "Let's keep close, I don't want to lose each other in here." Lose meaning in more ways than one.

Then the walls began to shake and crumble, the black earth growling with contempt.

"Move. Don't focus on me!" There was no time to argue, and not much she could do to help. Xov glanced over her shoulder at Juno reluctantly as she passed him, leather boots thumping against the cave floor to the crescendo of her heartbeat.

As soon as he was out of sight, she regretted leaving his side. The cave was darkening faster than her eyes could adjust, and she had no idea how far she had run, only that she could barely see. "Juno?" she called into the darkness, panic latching to her voice like a squeaky hinge. "I'm here! Marcus!"

"Ouch! Fuck!" A baseball-sized piece of debris fell from the crumbling tunnel, almost knocking her off balance as it slammed into her shoulder. She clutched it with her free hand as she ran.

The echo of distant voices told her they were not alone. Maybe shouting like a damsel in distress wasn't the best idea. She only hoped they were keeping up alright.

She couldn't remember being so afraid of the dark before. Then again, this was a different kind of dark--she knew it was full of people and things that wanted her to die.

The voice was back. "Treasure is buried deep in these mines, there are new tunnels for you to explore! There are a few maps with a juicy X on them down there somewhere too! You're not alone down here, it is a full party! Remember some of your knives are lacking blood...let the treasure hunt begin!"

The Gamemakers' plan couldn't have been more obvious--round them up and make them kill each other over buried treasure. It was only a little reassuring that they hadn't seen enough bloodshed yet--were these kids too gentle for their tastes?

They have their fill soon enough, Xov thought as the dark corridor swallowed her whole.

[rolling for damage]

9Xv5TxmH6x4-9

4-9

[Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom]]

❦

[TW: ritualistic self harm]

The gods dance in a flurry of ice and sound; almost ever present in her vision as she pushes back into the mines where there's a hollow silence. The warmth of her skin covered in the rituals of warriors from ages past. Rumors spill through her veins; chilled like ice freezing through her as she can taste the fragrance of a storm brewing. The echoing silence of a held breath as the earth gives and gives. They were being toyed with; a game of seeing who breaks first. A giggle caught in the back of her throat as she lets the cave's dripping of water and creaking of stone settle through her skin. Covered in earth; she's protected by the gods above.

There's no faces in the walls; no sacrifices staring back down to her. It's a disappointing thought. Blood hadn't been spilled since the first day. The mortals must be getting bored by now of them. A hum on her lips is all she gives as the night begins to swirl. If she's going to give the false gods entertainment, she needed to strike soon. The feeling of floating for a brief moment is all she gets before her mind starts to swirl in the darkness to dreams of what's beyond the veil. Their hidden room gave only the slightest of warmth over the night, but Vali could feel the chill settle away as she bundles up in the warmth of her own comfort.

Only, she's awaken in the silence. A calm breeze sending howls and wails down the tunnels of the mines; almost a gift of a warning. The silence settles before she looks to Marceline and Hal in both different arrays of awake and drifting. It's only for a moment where she gets to look towards them when she hears the sounds of footsteps moving rapidly. The whole mine shifts in that moment as everything begins to start tumbling and rumbling. The false god's wrath settling in as Vali can feel herself beginning to smirk in almost a miserably happy way. "Move! Don't focus on me!"

Familiarity; almost a sort of ringing of bells that hits when she notices one of the Twelves. It's all the warning she gets before Marceline starts to wildly pat at her arm. Voice ringing through the abrasive sound of rocks crumbling. "Come on! This place might be a powder keg!" Hal's yelling towards her, there's a brief moment where she can't quite catch his voice, but she stumbles behind him. Reaching for his hand as his voice finally comes through. Pain wouldn't matter if she was to be crushed underneath all the rock and earth. Gritting her teeth, she moves with him. "It's a trap!" A trap set by the false gods who run everything. A bitter laugh almost wants to leave her lips, but she doesn't do so. Instead, she focuses on moving forward with no words on her lips.

Another voice shouts out from somewhere, the crumbling sound of the walls itself around them. Almost as if perfectly timed, she can see her. Xov from Twelve. The one who tried to take her leg in the bloodbath. A darkening of her face sets in as she moves with Hal, her eyes looking towards the way the exit was. Quickly, she shoves two fingers to her lips and whistles at a high pitch, hoping it's enough to get her ice bear to her. There's a silence that settles as she looks towards both Twelves as the lights begin to flicker on and off. A dark laugh leaves her throat as she speaks.

"Oh the false gods are playing with us." She moves with the blistering pain settling through her skin as she continues with venom on her tongue. "They want blood. Chaos for the sake of entertainment. Pushing the Twelves towards us." A heavy laugh leaves her lips, hoping to make herself seem even more intimidating as if the cave tumbling down doesn't frighten her in the slightest. "Perfect. I don't think you remember me, Twelve." Her voice echoing with all the poison she could muster. Pulling forth the sword at her side, she swings it into a wall almost instinctively causing some stone to start tumbling down.

"You didn't know who you were messing with in bloodbath, Twelve. Upon the allfather and the weavers of fate, I give some of my ichor in my veins to curse you and your bloodline for generation to come!" Unfortunately, she didn't have enough time to do a whole lot. This would have to do. As she speaks the words, her sword comes down cutting into her own arm, spilling some blood in the name of her gods. The blood of a goddess was a powerful tool and she refused to let this girl get away. As they run, Vali coats her glove in her own blood, flicking drops towards Xov of Twelve.

There's a silence in the chaos where she smiles with all the venom on her lips, but she drops it to let the blood drip down her arm. The storm was here. Whistling of white snow against the horizon; the cave howls in anger by the false gods. Soon enough, they'll have to fight someone else. She could feel herself holding a breath.

The debris drops.

She pushes on.

[Vali does 3 damage to herself for a curse]

[Rolling for Collapsing damage]
V2WX3ahdwY4-9

4-9

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

filler/will write more later because im at work all day sorry!!

"You better keep your hands off of her." He spits in Forrester's direction, a low growl as if he were a dog protecting its owner. The world around them is crumbling, and the echoes of the night chase them in a dark threat to consume their being. His eyes saw her glistening glove, and was enamored by the audacity to harm oneself. She seems to believe some fashion of God is there to be pleased by her actions.

There's no god in hell. As far as he knew, they were descending further down into it. "Keep your prayers for yourself." He doesn't know if his words make sense. The words fumble out in an attempt to fend Xov from this weird girl. Marcus never believed in any higher being. His mom and dad always think so, and so do many of the families living in the shelter where he volunteers. To them, their God is what brings them to be good people.

He doesn't think Vali Forrester is a good person. Juno is in the front, and Marcus trains behind. He's watching over the actions of the other three they've been entrapped with, waiting for the order to attack.

[rolling 5 damage]
7CUS9DV7Yb4-94-9

[Python]

j u n o
b r i m s t o n e.

When Juno heard voices, his heart crawled into his throat. A cave collapse was dangerous enough, threatening to bury them alive or crush their bodies, but adding fellow tributes to the mix paved the way for violent chaos. He tried to pay them no mind as he struggled to match pace with Xov. Although he had insisted on staying behind, it hurt to see them sprinting ahead of him. It wasn't truly what he wanted, dying alone, being left behind, but he had asked for it because it made sense. If there was an afterlife, he didn't want to spend all of his time there regretting that he had dragged someone down with him.

Darkness was upon them soon enough, and he followed the sound of voices. Xov's specifically was calling out to him. He could hear debris raining down upon them, a piece of something striking his shoulder. It stung, but not nearly as badly as his knee. He pressed on. It may very well widen the fracture in his bones and therefore worsen his condition, but survival was more important. Pain was something to accept now. A part of a new reality. It could always be worse, he told himself. He could be missing a leg - and in that case, he would've been dead by now.

In the chaos, it was hard to identify who was saying what, and what was happening. He heard a girl's voice spewing curses at Xov, and Marcellus shouting a warning. Juno didn't mess with ritual-related religions, his parents had always warned him to stay away from dark stuff like that. It haunted dreams and attracted bad luck. Juno didn't think his luck could've been any worse since his name was chosen in the Reaping, but hey, at least it wasn't due to a blood curse.

He tried not to think about how pointless it was, cursing Xov's bloodline. If she died, there would be no bloodline.

One of his goals would be to keep her alive. He owed her that. Though she had never met him and his family nor made any major impacts on his past life, it felt like the right thing to do.

dmg received
80IEcHc3Wd4-94-9

[andromache s. ⚔️ [d1b] sucy]

Vali, screeches Marceline, What the hell?

Yes, okay, Marceline understands that Xov Thao did nearly take off Vali’s foot, which now holds on by a thread and hasty first aid – but is now really the time? The answer is no, and besides yelling at her, Marceline has no desire to stop and discuss the situation at hand. Still, her feet feel more and more unsteady beneath her the farther she runs. Who knows, could the floor beneath them begin to collapse too? Could a stray drop of Vali’s blood swing in Marceline’s direction, infecting her with whatever curse she’s putting on Xov? She still doesn’t believe in Vali’s religion – her nonsense, she wants to call it after this stunt – but that doesn’t mean she’s willing to take her chances meddling with it. Vali and Hal are running hand in hand. God, she hopes he doesn’t get splattered either.

Her odds in the arena are low enough as it is. Even so, she can’t disagree with her when she asserts that the Gamemakers want blood. Though why they had to bring Marceline into this is beyond her. Hasn't she been the only one to give them what they want so far? Does that count for nothing?

And a bloodline curse, really? What if the gods-that-may-be made sure Xov won the games, just for the pleasure of enacting their power over generations of the Thao family to come? Marceline’s stomach flips. Maybe she’s buying into all of this more than she realised. All of this: the games, the killing, the Capitol, Vali Forrester.

She can hear the boy from Eleven say something, and though she can’t make it out, Marceline figures it can’t be anything good. This alliance seems tight with each other; not that she and her allies aren’t, but there’s still some pretty big walls between the three of them too.

Thoughts swirl around her mind, circular. At least the crumbling walls make for some visibility.

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

[rolling for damage]
HwueviI5Fi4-9

4-9

[d9 kristof parks {ems}]

He feels Vali grab his hand, and he keeps moving forward as quickly as he can. The walls are crumbling, rocks are falling, and trying to shield himself from the debris is difficult. He listens to the words around him, and he tries remaining calm, but the idea of being trapped in this thing mine until he dies terrifies him. Something about it gives him peace, though. It's hard to comprehend, yet death is almost welcoming. It's an escape, and part of him feels selfish because his family is at home yearning for his return, but maybe death is better.

But I'm not ready to die.

Eyes dart back and forth. The darkness, it's freaking him out. It's loud, louder than he's used to, and it makes it hard to think, hard to focus on anything, and maybe it's meant to be that way. Of course, the gamemakers always have a plan, and with the lack of deaths, they're probably growing bored. But maybe they should make this deadly. Maybe that's the plan, yet the only thing better than following their will is defying it. Nobody wants someone from a lower district to win. Nobody wants them to come home because they aren't careers, and it's a problem.

All they want is a show.

A half grin twists across his face, but the idea of turning on someone, of attacking someone completely unprovoked is unsettling. This isn't the time. It's not the place. Not when everyone is trying to not get crushed by falling rocks. But here they are, here he is trying to make the best out of a crappy situation, and knowing how close everyone is, he grabs the axe and holds it super close to his chest preparing to swing it need be.

Vali throws a curse, and Hal can't help but roll his eyes. Her religion, it doesn't make sense, and he's never been religious because it doesn't answer any question, yet everyone can think how they desire. It feels dumb to him, and maybe it's the idea of being brainwashed. So many people think these deities are real, but Hal feels differently. Maybe no gods exist, and maybe the world is going on by itself without caring.

If a god exists, I will apologize when I enter the afterlife and hope it isn't too late.

But for now, his beliefs are his own, and he knows putting Vali down wouldn't end well. She's a friend, an ally, and Hal isn't going to push her or Marceline away while he needs them.

Credit to Pogue <3

damage
cYwCKo|mIH4-9

4-9

[august vance d7b [Bella]]

Vali's little stunt made Xov's blood boil.

She recoiled in disgust from the droplets of blood, clumsily smashing into an outcropping of stone as she did so. Ouch. She saw Marceline next, and her gaze filled with questions.

"Marceline? I didn't realize you kept such pleasant company." Was she a little hurt? Maybe. At the training center she'd thought they had shared a moment at the plants station that meant something, at least an inkling of goodwill. Maybe not, if she had allied with this silver-haired witch.

"You better keep your hands off of her."

The loyalty in Marcus's voice humbled her, tugged at her heartstrings. He was the kind of friend she wished she’d had back home. But she was afraid he might start a fight they weren't ready to handle. The mine caving in was enough for the moment.

Marcus," she said to him between puffs of air, holding out her arm against his chest. "Save your breath. Her blood isn't worth anything. None of our blood is worth anything here."

It hurt, but as she said it, she felt the weight of its truth.

She trailed behind Vali, eyes pulled to the spot where the girl's foot was poorly attached at the ankle, a shitty repair job on a broken rag doll. Xov hadn't meant to sever Vali's foot, only to protect Marcus when she had attacked him. Three days ago felt like the distant past, but Xov remembered how the weapon had moved in her hands like someone else had been controlling her, a spirit of war starved for vengeance.

But it hadn't been a war spirit--she knew it didn’t work like that. It was her. Xov was capable of severing someone's foot. And now she didn't feel so guilty about it. She was convinced that Vali was an evil person--cursing someone here, as if they weren't all cursed enough already. Xov shouted after her perpetrator, voice tinged with venom.

"Save your 'ichor,' Forrester. There are only three gods that matter here, and your all-father isn't one of them. Unless that was his voice coming through the speakers?"

Maybe Vali would never realize that she had plucked a knot of pain from deep inside of Xov and rubbed it in her face. Or maybe she had suspected it somehow, and was all the more evil for it.

Three days in the arena, and Xov could no longer empathize with that simple country girl, in the cabin by the river, who had dreamed of having a family of her own one day. Now it seemed like too much life to ask for, like expecting a harvest on barren soil. She could only afford to wish for her own life now.

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. If Vali was right, and it worked, then maybe she would make it out alive just to have children to be cursed. Wasn’t every victor’s bloodline cursed anyway? Just look at Marcus, or Xylia–no one was safe, regardless of surname.

If they had been trying to distract her, it was working. She realized that Juno was falling behind. Xov felt inutile, too weak to support him. She didn't want to ask Marcus to risk his own life to help Juno, either--although she had a feeling he would risk his life for either of them, just as he had defended her with his words.

They were both taking care of her, these boys. Yet here she was leaving Juno in the dust. Guilt slowed her steps, and she took hold of his arm. "J, come on," she prodded, her voice echoing back at her from the jagged walls. "If you make it out of here, they'll fix your knee right up, and this will all be a distant memory. Just--stay with me." She managed a rueful smile that she meant to be encouraging. "I am not going to let you come this far from Twelve just to die in a mine."

They were strangers two weeks ago, but he was the closest thing to home she had. So here she was, holding on.

And her grip felt as frail as the strands of thread on their wrists.

[rolling for damage]

4BHrru4BQt4-9

4-9

[Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom]]

❦

Twelve recoils as if her own ichor was burned by the splash of red against the wall and body; a dark giggle leaves her lips as he eyes filter in towards Xov. There's a pause as Vali can feel her skin start to chill. Another reminder that she's not immortal anymore. A goddess among the mortals who dare to think she's anything more than just the weakest mortal. There's an amusement in her lips as she looks towards Xov who comments something weak to Marceline. Her voice makes Vali want to laugh once more, but she stays solid as the trees in Seven.

It's as she's keeping herself moving that she hears the other Twelve. "You better keep your hands off of her." Staring at him, she laughs in his face. Almost enjoying watching these mortals flail around trying to get their holdings on life and death. She couldn't care less on whether or not they would threaten them. Vali isn't one to give in. The Twelves could look at her however they wanted. Moving forward, they still scatter like animals in the dark. The attempt to fend her off in Marcellus' voice makes Vali only smile in success once more. "Keep your prayers for yourself."

It's a laugh; unable to contain herself, she's about to speak when Xov stops her guard dog who looks more like a puppy. "Marcus," Puffs of air seeming to come out of her lips; Vali can feel the air growing tense. "Save your breath. Her blood isn't worth anything. None of our blood is worth anything here." Another lame excuse. Vali's blood is more than they'll ever realize. Xov is covered in the blood of a goddess. The ichor of her own coating her now bleeding arm. There's a laugh as she speaks loudly.

"Oh, yes call off your guard dog. He's more of a puppy anyways." Her eyes glitter with that amusement. "And you really don't understand. Blood is worth everything here. It's what will lead to the end." It's a laugh on her throat as she keeps pushing forward. There's not a lot to keep. There's so many more things she could say, but she knew that these two with their lower district attitudes there'd be nothing more she could say. Instead, she lets her ichor do the work. A hum on her lips as she continues.

Only, she's stopped by the words of Xov. "Save your 'ichor,' Forrester. There are only three gods that matter here, and your all-father isn't one of them. Unless that was his voice coming through the speakers?" Three gods that matter. A laugh leaves her lips as her eyes darken. A pause as she stops moving forward for a moment to really look at Xov. Her voice is amused as her eyes darken a little in the lights that flicker in the mines.

"Save your voice, Twelve. You don't know what spirits you're messing with. The gods of old and new watch us always. I'm sure you've never felt them, but they're here." Waving a hand in the air almost to emphasis her dismissal of Xov, she continues. "If you think those three are gods, you're laughable. Those false gods are nothing more than mortals who are desperately clinging to their own small individualistic power. They are nothing more than mortals playing god. Their weaves will eventually come back to bite them. The only gods who matter are the old and new ones; you'll see soon enough." A giggle leaves her lips as she moves forward.

They were making progress to get out of here. Hal's got her still. The lights flicker away and she can feel her heart thrumming in her chest. They had to escape this place. The mines would come crumbling down and even with all of her confidence, she didn't know how to think about all of this. Breath flittering between her lips, she keeps herself upright and pushes on. There was no more needs for words. If Xov wanted to yell, she could. If Marcellus Rhodes wanted to threaten, he could threaten her. All she knew was the gods would protect her from this in the end.

Their presences was everywhere.

Including here.

Those false gods couldn't stop her now.

[Rolling for Collapsing damage]
kbKzIrkD2q4-9

4-9

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

Is the world supposed to crumble like this? Maybe it was a punishment. To all of them for not having the guts to play puppet to the Gamemakers’ hands. It makes sense, after all. They probably hoped that a blow or two would be swiped to another tribute. By the second swipe, they’ll stumble, fall, leaving them crumpled by the stampede of stone. That’s what he’s thinking is the goal, as he continues to follow Juno and Marceline. The rubble seems closest to him. Some of the rubble that explodes on the ground meets his hands and face, scraping at Marcus’ body as a warning.

He can’t run forever, that’s what the rubble tells him. That escaping the tunnel alive, with Xov and Juno, is just a minor escape from his eventual death. There was only five other tributes in their sliver of a mine. For Xov and Juno it must be easy - he sees them charging ahead. This was their type of thing. But Marcellus already felt cramped, tight. He’s concerned about lifting his head. If he does it too far, or stretches his body too much, the risk getting caught on hanging support beams feels heightened.

Xov coaches him. "Save your breath. Her blood isn't worth anything. None of our blood is worth anything here." He can’t worry about the verbal thoughts that people hurl toward his ally. But it’s hard not to. He wants to protect her - as if he is some guardian dog. Growling at the portrayed threat, or watching and holding his breath. His eyes feel like they’re not allowed to leave the other girl. Maybe she’s a form of witch, and that’s who they were in search for. It makes sense if she was so mad at them. Though, the anger is only toward Xov, so that couldn’t be it.

It reminds him of the many times that he felt that instinct over his mother. He wanted to bark and fight anyone who stepped near her. She never wants him to protect her, as if he would somehow screw it up. Internally, that’s why Xov means so much to him. Tsiuri used to be his replacement for his mother, that in the sense of, a woman who provides so much mental wellbeing. That offers a sense of life, and being, and purpose in someone's daily life. To him, this was a longing to be useful to someone that matters to him. All of the people in the shelter aren’t his friends. They’re just people he services. Xov, who hardly departs being a stranger, is enough of a body worth sacrificing for.

He watches as her hand wraps around Juno’s wrist, pulling him along. Marcus wonders if she’d do the same.

Not that he expects it.

He huffs, urging them to “come on, keep up,” as he begins to charge past. Maybe he needs to lead the way for his partners.

ELEGANT

tH8SNIPBL64-94-9

[Python]

j u n o
b r i m s t o n e.

sorry I had a work event, fillering to move this along so people can claim items!

Juno feels bad that he's the burden of the group, but takes Xov's words to heart. She's right, he cannot leave Twelve just to die in a mine! So he allows her to take his hand and starts pressing more weight into his injured knee. It hurts, but that doesn't matter.

"I won't lag behind anymore, promise!"

anime sidekick ahh dialogue

dmg received
WWP0rT97m64-94-9

[andromache s. ⚔️ [d1b] sucy]

Marceline? I didn’t realize you kept such pleasant company.

Marceline’s bad knees waver as she lands more and more steps on them, but she suspects it has a little something more to do with Xov’s words than her hypermobile joints for once. Admittedly, Marceline is hurt — they’re all doomed, right now more than ever so far in the games; so is it really the time to get upset over who’s allied with who? Honestly, what had Marceline to do with Vali’s curses or the foot Xov almost robbed her of? The girl from Two — Marguerite, she reminds herself — had only given her a disapproving shake of her head, and Marceline had actually killed her ally.

She stops, just for half a second, stunned rigid by the sheer ridiculousness of her situation, and a rock takes the opportunity to hit her square between the shoulder blades. Marceline stumbles forward, immediately back to running. She risks looking over her shoulder to see Xov, catches a glimpse of her, but doesn’t say anything, just sends her something akin to an apology with her new icy eyes.

But Vali is still her ally, for now. And even if she slings curses at the other tributes from time to time, she still gave Marceline a helmet, which right now is coming in extremely useful. Rocks bounce off it intermittently; it rattles but her skull is safe. That’s about as much as she can ask for right now.

Does she still have the right to ask for even that? Marceline is doubtful. She doesn’t believe in Vali’s gods or anyone else’s, but she’s ruled by her own moral code and does, despite herself, believe in karma. Long after these mines have fully collapsed, and if by some gruesome miracle Marceline comes out of the arena free, she’ll still be running from whatever revenge the universe has planned. She can’t imagine going back to her life, can’t picture what after the arena might look like — she wonders how the careers are faring; if a crumbling mine lives up to whatever expectations they had. She thinks of Xov and Juno too. If they die here, the Capitol audience would wince, or maybe laugh, and discuss the irony of it all over their dinner tables.

rolling for damage!!
ObnoGuMxsp4-9

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

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