eye of the storm {h/m vs f/l vs i | day 5}

[d9 kristof parks {ems}]

Being strong is one of the hardest things he's ever had to do. Sometimes things go wrong, and when he's home, Hal always had to be the strong big brother, he had to hold it together to prevent the tears from leaking down his face. Here, he doesn't need to do that.

I just wanted to leave.

A weight is tied tightly around his heart dragging it down, his shoulders are heavy, the weight of the world is pressed up against him making it impossible to move. Every breath comes with a great effort. And all he can do is look around and pretend that everything is okay. Jericho didn't deserve what happened. Nobody in this game deserves their fate, and it's cruel and unusual that it's all happening so fast.

Silent screams vibrate through his body, and even curling up in the sleeping bag doesn't do him any good. It doesn't offer the protection or a hug, yet it keeps him warm as the storm rages on.

Vali.

She always had to die, but their time together was so short, and maybe the same could be said for Jericho and his allies, yet it doesn't matter. It'll never matter, and even though Hal wants nothing more than to run around screaming, he keeps everything to himself.

WIP I'm getting ready for work. I will fill this in when I get off work tonight.

Credit to Pogue <3

Hal attacks with spear
1. Felicity
2. Lionel
3. Isolde
|3dTtkC08M1-3
Felicity

spear
3180-- 8.0 damage + 1 strength

1-3·spear

[andromache s. ⚔️ [d1b] sucy]

She and Garnet separate not long after they each unearthed their bone swords — the implication of their proximity sends a nasty shiver down her spine. Garnet and Marceline; red stone and airy fabric; District Eight’s hand in hand representatives wielding one half each of one set of legs. How nice it could’ve been if they met back in Eight. Marceline was never the most social, but maybe if she’d known she would’ve been different. Maybe they could have met and been friends.

She doesn’t say anything about Garnet when she gets back to Hal. She barely says anything to him actually, but she does her best to put up a strong, caring front. Marceline has pretended her whole life, and she can see that Hal has too. She liked him in the first place because he reminded her of her own older sisters — but here, now, she doesn’t feel real anymore. Marceline knows she’s the youngest in the arena, but as she wraps Hal up in a hug she somehow feels centuries old. The faces in the sky don’t help. Vali’s portrait makes eye contact with her and she shivers.

When she settles down to sleep at last, curled up near Hal and their familiars and their… big familiars, Marceline feels Vali’s absence acutely. A slip of a girl really, despite her District Seven muscles, not unlike herself, but somehow so much bigger than everything else around her. Her spirit was indomitable in life, and feels even more so in death. Again and again Marceline hopes (prays, even, to no one) that Vali believed in her gods and stories right until the end, that she never doubted herself. 

A few tears dribble down her face, but that’s all before Marceline descends into a restless sleep.

———— ✂️

When she sees the others for the first time, Marceline’s hand flies to the sharp bone on her hip, drawing it instinctively. The boy from Five has a crown hovering above his head — it’s beautiful. And just like Marceline’s eyes, it’s icy. She thinks she can figure out what the crown means. If it represents what she thinks it does, that makes him very dangerous indeed. He’s with the girl from… Three? Marceline isn’t sure. Her attention ends up being capitalised by a final solo figure entering the proximity; Six. Marceline gawps at her for a moment. Her face draws up images of brain matter and crumpled blonde bodies on hardwood floors. The Bloodbath could’ve happened yesterday, or it could’ve happened a hundred years ago; Marceline is a different girl now either way.

She doesn’t want to kill anyone, but after yesterday, after Vali’s head spun in an arch across the sky, sent that way by a boy called Peace, Marceline’s mind and heart have hardened.

Six, she thinks to herself, you were right about what happened back there. I suppose I did mean it a little bit.

randomising attack!

7KY4rrsYPL1-3

1= Felicity, 2= Lionel, 3= Izzy.

marceline attacks with her bone sword!

sword

1009 = severed right ear / 8.0 + 1.0 blades station.

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

1-3·sword

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

FELICITY
CARROW.


It starts with a low rumbling in her ears, like a pot left over the campfire. Felicity has to stop fumbling around with the parts to the generator after the shock to her system leaves her bones aching and the hairs down at the nape of her neck standing upright. At first, her instinct had been to go right back to it, but there was something to the way Lionel reached for her, and as seconds turned into a minute, she found herself acutely aware of his hands on her shoulders even through the thick coat she's been wearing. For the first time, it starts to feel constricting, and she realizes that boiling must be coming from her own blood. The seed of iron the hags melted into her, it was going to electrify her from the navel to the brainstem and—Felicity, say something.

She can see every line of his iris, the weaves of grey and blue that probably make them catch in sunshine neither of them has properly seen in days. The pain ringing in her ears washes away, slowly forgotten. "I just need some air," she'd said, not pushing him off, feeling oddly bereft when he finally let go. The boiling gets louder, the lid rattling off the pot—"C'mon, distract me."

She moves towards the door, ripping out of her heavy jacket, unwinding the sling she'd made for her monkey friend from around her neck. The cool, wintery air feels blissfully on her overheating skin and she finds a spot to settle down on the front stoop off the place to set up shop. She grounds herself on the breeze, letting it wash through her lungs so she can practice calming down. Patting the spot next to her, she glances behind her to Lionel and says, "I deserve a story."

She wills that they stay like that for a long time, until the light fades from the sky and the stars begin to peek out from betwixt the ugly, blackened branches in this clearing. Listening to Lionel, she misses Viktor something fierce, wishes that he would come back sooner; she hasn't gotten more than a fleeting glimpse of him since they woke up back amongst the charred portion of the woods yesterday. Somewhere in the middle of Lionel's encouraged ramblings, she caught a glimpse of his white fur against the base of a tree before he disappeared out of sight.

He'd left behind a small leather sachet on the far end of the porch while she had her back turned. Her hands trembled and shook, her teeth chattering against themselves while she clumsily tried to pry the thing open. She didn't laugh when Lionel just plucked the thing from her hands after watching her struggle, then dumped familiar blue tablets into her palm.

"Iodine tablets... but I don't even have any water."

Or, that's what she tried to get out, but the cold got the best of her and she only manages a few words before she lets Lionel shove her back into her heavy winter coat. Only then does she relent, something molten rushing through her core.

Mouse and team make easy work of making sure she doesn't fiddle with any other electrical panels for the evening, though she rolls her eyes and says a little zap never stopped her before. Nonetheless, it's a little heartwarming when Mouse won't let her help set up the tent. She moves to hammer an anchor down, and he flutters over to her with his feathers puffed and puts his beak in her way, making tiny squawking noises despite her protests. She thinks he doesn't know what she means when she says she's not made of porcelain.

But Lionel keeps smiling. Neither of them take out their weapons again all night. It's almost easy to forget one of them has to die. When he makes a joke about snuggling with Mouse, it's so easy for her to add a new bet to their roster.

"Bet you won't share with me."

They sleep side by side in the tent until the sun rises, and she doesn't call him Sick once.

❄

They're hunting Izzy. There's really no two ways about it.

She could lie to herself, pretend they're going to talk to her, be curious and be her friend, but Felicity knows they'd be lying to themselves. Maybe the communication hadn't been verbal, but maybe they knew by now what the other was thinking when they caught a glimpse of her through the trees, the sunlight just barely trying to creep through the canopy above. An eyebrow lifted, Felicity says she's alone.

A twist of the mouth, a lingering look: we doing this?

The satisfied, hungry grin to match her own was answer enough.

felicity shoots izzy with dart gun

o1__BRLRQothrowing knife

miss

accuracy

throwing knife

oh another miss okey

The first thing Felicity notices is that no anger sparks this time, not even when the others dart out from amongst shadows she hadn't even noticed. The next is how ordinary Hal looks next to Marceline now.

That's cruel, reflexively she knows that, but she thinks it all the same. With his haunted eyes, even the way he dives towards Felicity feels half-hearted; he looks more on the verge of crying than Felicity does with his spear trying to sever through her achilles. "Woah, hey!" she shouts, loud enough she's revealing themselves not only to Izzy, but probably anyone else in the area. Not good. "Lionel, look out! We got two on our tail."

She glances around furtively, trying to evade the pointy end of Hal's spear, still mentally working out what happened to make him look so haunted and Marceline look so cold. If glass weren't so fragile, she'd be a sheet of it, with her eyes reflecting like ice in the sun. They are glacial in their frost, and they look cooly in Lionel's direction, as if to devour him with a glance.

Thoughts of Izzy almost leave her mind, the lost darts amongst the dead grass forgotten.

"Wrong choice."

light step from hal 3180
1-10

throwing knife·1-10·1-10

[k!ah]

 
lionel estrada

Her mouth moved like she was trying to speak, but words failed her and instantly I felt my grip tighten on her as the panic begun to surge. Her body was still rigid beneath my hands and I hated not knowing what to do. I hated not being able to do anything but hold her as the tremors began to fade, and I instantly noticed the moment the rigidness began to slip away because her body began to soften under my touch.

My breath escapes my lips in a sigh of relief and it takes every bit of my self control not to pull her into my chest and hold her tight when words finally slip passed her lips, filling the space between us. I just need some air, she croaks but she doesn't try to free herself from my grip so I don't let go, not ready to fully let go of the desire to wrap her tightly in my arms- which terrified me because I knew that I was no longer just in risk of just walking through the dangerous territory of feelings and friendship and something deeper... I was diving fucking head first in with no escape route. I was so fucked. Readjusting my hold, I allow my grip to loosens becoming aware of just how tightly I was gripping her arms before fully letting go and tearing my gaze away from hers.

I was in so much damned trouble.

Hauling herself to her feet she peels off her jacket, commanding me to distract her and for the briefest and most irrational moment I thought she meant she wanted me to distract her in ways that had my blood boiling and my teeth running across my lower lip as my eyes slowly roamed over her body and my lips pulling back into a lopsided grin. Who cared that my stomach screamed in pain, that my body was broken, and that I was covered in blood- but then "I deserve a story."

She glances over her shoulder patting the spot next to her and I force my face to go blank, hoping to hide any evidence of my wild inappropriate thoughts. Clearing my throat loudly before I take a couple deep breathes and throw myself down on the spot next to her. I roll onto my back and watch the sky churning wildly above us through the gaps in the roof.

"A story?" I muse as my fingers ideally play with the buttons of my jacket before my eyes slide over to her, watching as she stared out into the dark forrest. Her cheeks were pink, the tip of her nose a couple shades darker. It was cute, and my smile softens again and I feel the heavy gaze of Mouse on me as he once again watches me watch her and when I glance at him the word creep is so clear in his dark gaze. I scowl at him before looking away.

"What do you want to know? How my father thinks of me as a colossal disappointment? Or how my mother has that special sort of favouritism that results in her always giving my younger brother the bigger slice of cake. Or do you want to know about Wren?" Golden boy Wren. My fingers dig through my jacket pocket and I fish out the lemon drop vape he had given me back in the justice building. I press it into my lips, inhaling deeply as the taste of sweet and bitter and tart fills my mouth. "I think you would have liked Wren though. He's a pice of shit most of the time, but pretty much everyone who meets him loves him. He's effortlessly charming in a way that used to gave my teeth grinding."

I pause, fingers tightening on the vape. "He's also effortlessly talented at every fucking thing that he does and never fails to rub it in." And then I'm telling her about all the times my younger brother had bested me, each time it had not been because he desired to be the best after years and years of hard work, but because he simply knew that he could. And I tell her how I strongly believed he did it because he got off on the idea of being better than me at every damned thing.

When I was finished I was silent for a moment as I waited for the familiar wave of jealously to consume me every time I thought of Wren. Only it didn't and I realised for the first time since leaving Five behind that it hadn't from the moment I had begun to slip off the masks, the iron shackles that had had me me trapped and bound. And it felt damned good.

I look over and there is a small smile dancing of Felicity's lips as her trembling fingers fiddle with a package on her lap. When she fails to open it on her third shot I push myself into a seated position and gently pry her fingers away plucking it from her and opening it easily, dumping the tablets into her hands. She looks at the tablets and tries to speak but her words at caught up in the chattering of her teeth and instantly I am pulling her to her feet and wrapping her jacket around her shoulders as I guide her arms into the sleeves. "You're going to freeze to death if you don't put this on," I grumble, as I smooth the material over her arms, running my hands up them a few times in am attempt to warm her. Or that would have been my excuse because the reality was I couldn't help myself.

Looking at her I hold out my hand eyebrow raised, "you owe me a tent for the night Felicity." She hands me the tarp and I make quick work of setting it up before I turn to her with a smug grin. I study the way Mouse moves closer to her, ready to wrap her up in his wings to keep her sheltered for the night. "Looks like someone is ready to tuck you in for the night," I muse and Mouse sends me a bland look. I ignore him. "Sleep well, Belcher-"

"Bet you won't share with me."

My grin grows, the challenge in her voice enough to have me stepping aside and opening to the tent to her. "After you, sweetheart," I say with an extravagant bow and a wide grin. "I am nothing if I am not generous," my grin widens when I see Mouse fluff out his chest in annoyance as Felicity moves to slip into the tent. "Sorry buddy, but looks like it is my body heat our pretty friend is craving tonight."

* * *

Izzy slinks through the morning light before us. We had found her tracks only a a couple hours ago and after a small, quick discussion we had decided to follow. To hunt her. Kill her. Even if we hadn't so much as said the words, we didn't need to. Felicity spots her first and she gives me a questioning look, one I answer with a grin nodding in the girls direction as I slip my blade free. Felicity doesn't hesitate, slipping her dart gun free she takes aim, her lips pulling back into a grin that should have been disturbing, but had my stomach flipping and own lips pulling back wider and damn it warm some of the ice that had begun to settle on my cheeks.

Her finger squeezes the trigger and the dart glides passed the target harmlessly and I fight back the urge to taunt her as sudden movement behind us as her dancing out of the way of a spear aimed for her back. Instantly the humour fades from my face and I am whirling, sword raised as a flash of metal glints in the morning sun. I curse as Felicity's warning bounced off the frozen tree's around us. Instantly Felicity's gaze lands on the girl who had just tried to lope my head off and the ice in her glare sent all kids of fucked up and twisted thrills through me. I grin at her, flicking my blade almost casually, "you look ridiculously cute right now, all bloodthirsty and threatening."

I force my gaze away from her, tracking the movements of the tribute who had tried to bury is spear into her back. "You take one more step towards her and I won't be responsible for my actions," I all but purr as Mouse takes up his place behind us, growling viciously as he flares his wings. "Or his."

[coats weapon in poison [1/3]]

randomised attack: 1 hal, 2 marceline
tEGYmxHP3q1-2

[attacks hal with sword]
sword
[ miss ]

accuracy
sword
[ 4 + 1 ]

sd against marceline
3-8

1-2·sword·3-8·3-8

[lucius branwen / 10 — fox]

🌱

i think i'm dying.

average day for me, you know how it is.

a girl dies in my arms. a girl is torn apart in the woods.

i suppose i'm used to digging up bodies, but i've never put one in a grave before. i sit for a long time by Sage, snow falling over her like a shroud, little shark chewing on a corner of the tattered fabric. and in the end, i pull the blanket up to her chin, the blood already frozen to her clothes by then. all the colour's gone from her cheeks.

never asked her what she believed in. never asked her how she wanted to be sent off.

so i give her the only prayer i know.

press a hand to my mouth, press the kiss to her forehead, letting my palm rest there for a moment.

and then, i go.

gotta get Inga's dead body too.

yeah, this one's a lot nastier.

fitting, i guess. no girl like Inga is really supposed to die sweetly. guess it's in her nature to be beautiful and terrible. by the third hour, the hags are done tearing her apart, and she's a bunch of leaking organs, blood across the snowy pines, viscera in dripping relief.

"fuck."

i drag her out of the woods and into the clearing, make sure i don't lose a limb, arm dangling by the sinews.

"rest in pieces, babe." you were a real one for not killing me.

twilight now, i lie on the ground, spread out my arms. it never snows enough in Six for it to be nice. turns into gutter water and gray slush in an hour, the roads going wet and icy, the dirt lining the curbs. i make snow angels, i roll up a little friend for Sharky, the weather almost feels warmer.

//

i think i'm gonna die.

average lifetime for me, you know how it is.

Eight comes out between two slender trees. i remember her, just a few days ago when she was claiming innocence, wide-eyed and staring at her hands. she draws a bone sword on instinct now. she comes stalking towards me.

knew she was bloodthirsty.

i throw up a peace sign.

"'sup, girl."

and then, i grab the axe.

she doesn't go for me though, barrels right past as the wind of a dart brushes by my cheek. turn over my shoulder, and what do you know, the gang's here again. Felicity and her creature of a man. come back to finish the job, huh?

"wow, oh my god, haha, quit fighting over me guys," laughing, cold, as my grip tightens. there's the guy who killed Sage.

funny, back when i was a kid, i used to be really angry at everything. at like the injustice of the world, the generation i was born to, the hand i was dealt. i don't know when i got so tired. no one ever told me this is what getting older was like.

after everything, eighteen is not so bad to have survived to. there was a time i didn't think i'd get to fifteen.

and yet, give me another minute. just one. me, him, the axe. come here. don't be shy.

"plenty to go around."

random attack
1.Hal 2.Marceline 3.Felicity 4.Lionel
rXNz7gsLNc1-4

izzy attacks with pickaxe (axe)
axe
11169 -- Shallow Cut on Right Calf -- 3.5 damage

1-4·axe

[d9 kristof parks {ems}]

Thinking before acting has never been his strong suit, but here he is, lashing out before even having a chance to see what's going on. Now, all he can think about is figuring it out and going from here, but seeing that he's outnumbered makes him anxious. Hal looks at Marceline, his eyes wide with fear, yet his mind feels calm. Nothing matters anymore as they're trapped in a place where nothing will fix what's been broken. Mending the broken pieces takes a lot of work, but when these broken pieces are scattered throughout an entire arena, mending them is near impossible.

One left with Jericho, and the other left with Vali, but many are traveling through the snow and ice lost forever with every gust of wind. It's terrifying, but it's something he will never understand.

I've wanted to live life.

Being a father figure has always been difficult, and being like a parent to his younger siblings took away his ability to live the life he wanted. Growing up quickly has always been tough, yet it doesn't matter here. Growing up, it's a struggle, it's hard, and now, now that he's here in this sinking ship, Hal understands just how worthy his life has been. It taught him how to thrive, succeed, go places, but it's missing one thing.

Life and death is hard, but facing it here makes me realize how precious each moment is.

Everyone dies eventually. It's just a fact of life.

But at least I get the chance to live.

Seeing places outside Seven is huge, and knowing he has a chance to see every district gives him courage, but right now, now it's just a thought, a prayer. Everything is a prayer.

Maybe a prayer is all I need.

"I've never been good at making the right choice."

A half smile spreads across his face, but it's filled with sorrow and trouble. Everything is. Life is hard, but Hal doesn't want this moment to weigh him down forever.

"I would back up and leave y'all alone, but that would require turning my back.

He sighs as he lifts his spear.

"And that is never a good idea."

Credit to Pogue <3

Hal attacks with spear
1. Felicity
2. Lionel
l7alZCVQY_1-2
Lionel

spear
3171 -- 9.5 damage + 1 strength

1-2·spear

[andromache s. ⚔️ [d1b] sucy]

Six’s pickaxe takes Marceline by surprise in the worst way — like a homing missile, the point of it scrapes through the bandages wrapped around her calf, sparking pain again in the wound Maggie had given her during the Bloodbath. She whirls around to face Six… Isobel? Isolde? Izzy?

“Six,” she settles on. There’s no point in trying to be nice anymore. She never tried so hard to be nice back home, so why has she even bothered starting to try here of all places? Garnet and Hal’s influence, maybe. Xov’s too. Vali was always nice to her as well, in her own way. But no, Marceline has never been particularly nice — still she has to let her target know, even as she pulls back her sword arm, that, “I really didn’t mean it. And I still don’t — not… fully.”

Marceline figures she’s talked to people more these past few days than she had in multiple years back in Eight. Maybe she would’ve done things differently if she’d known, or maybe if she gets home she’ll do things the exact same way again. What ifs have plagued her constantly these past few days, in a way they never did before. But for now she pushes them all aside and swings at Six. The other two are a solid unit, she sees that clearly now. They’re more solid than her and Hal and Vali had been on their best day, and definitely tougher than any of the meaningless career bonds. That much is made obvious by his reaction to Hal injuring Three. It doesn’t even seem like he cares that Marceline clipped his ear.

Oh. Is it love? In a place like this that’s a miracle; a cruel one but a miracle nonetheless.

marceline attacks izzy!!

aP5_90zVP7sword

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

sword

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

FELICITY
CARROW.


A part of Felicity soared high over all of them, her soul taking a birds eye view and riding the wind as it whistles across where she imagines the arena's domed ceiling coming to a head. The part of herself that made her mother shout at her for those first few years, an outburst of emotional dead weight Felicity had learned from no one but the woman herself. The floods of feeling, the walls against her own reactions she's had to built to keep everything contained; she heard it over and over, left home to get scolded by teachers for not paying attention, kid with her head in the clouds, eyes out the window or buried in whatever gadget she'd started fidgeting with under the desk. They're pieces she has never carried with pride before.

The perfectionist inside her has never let her.

Here, in spite of it perhaps, she finds herself grateful.

She keeps track of it all; the foot Izzy favors and where she puts her weight when she spins; the blood pooling along Lionel's collarbone, and how close Marceline got to cutting his carotid if she'd just aimed a little bit lower; even Hal, and the slant of grief to his frame as he accepts the choices someone else made behind closed doors. Felicity doesn't hold it against them any longer, the outrage she'd felt on her first night in this cursed forest. 

"You look ridiculously cute right now, all bloodthirsty and threatening." Instinct has her pacing in reaction, cataloging movement. Izzy's axe twitches, as if calling out Felicity's name, and she doesn't try to tamp down on the inclination she feels smoldering at the pit of her belly. Lionel steps up to her side, and she feels the weight of Mouse looming from behind; the heavy beat of his wings carries a gust of air forward that cools her exposed skin. "You take one more step towards her and I won't be responsible for my actions. Or his."

"—And I've never been responsible for mine."

She steps sideways to get a better look in Izzy's direction, moving to press her spine back against Lionel's as she matches his steps. When had they become a pair of predators? A howling thing rips through her rip cage, encouragement an unfamiliar drug. It adds hot coals onto the fire roiling in her gut, making it grow and grow until she scorches her bones down to the tips of her fingers. There something frigid cracks, like a heavy rock thrown into the middle of a frozen lake, and the sun casts a long shadow that collects darkness around Marceline. It doesn't matter if she means it, or if she doesn't; in the end, the ice still takes her, and Felicity's dart follows her into the frost.

When Felicity fires, she's not sure if she's aiming for Izzy's throat, or Marceline's back. Both, she thinks, sound rather like rising to the challenge.

felicity shoots dart at izzy,
txI6NLsMAmthrowing knife
9080 -- Deep Gash on Stomach -- 9.0 damage

Felicity feels the weight of her friend heavy against her back and something in her chest lurches. Despite the sun, her eyes turn to storm clouds, as if the blue has been leeched from her iris. Anger sharpens in her gut, something fierce and protective brimming there. She wishes she could take a cut of the pain, gift him a part of her strength.

Fuck. They're really in this together.

"C'mon!" she huffs over her shoulder. "I know you can handle a hit better than that."

She'd seen him after leaving him alone in the cabin with Lucky and Xylia, the way he'd grinned through the shattered cheekbone that was finally fading. The memory doesn't help to calm that fear, so she uses it as gasoline to egg the fire on.

"We got this."

throwing knife

[k!ah]

 
lionel estrada

A giggle from behind is all I hear the moment the spear rips open yesterday's wound and my blood once again paints the earth beneath my feet red. A hiss of pain and my world is on fire, as I press a hand to the gaping hole in my stomach. Instantly it is warm and sticky and I fight the urge to glance down, already knowing that my fingers would be coated in crimson. Behind me I feel the press of Felicity against me and I lean into her strength, stealing it as my regain the use of my legs and force my lips to peel back in grin.

"Now now, that wasn't very nice of you," I say, clicking my tongue is disapproval as I make put on a show at looking down at my shirt is dramatic disapproval. "You've ruined my shirt. I love-" I fucking hate- "this shirt and now it has a hole in it." I pout, through the surge of pain that rushes through me almost taking away my breathe. Felicity presses closer and her words wrap around me, temporarily soothing the flames that tore through like wild fire. We got this. Yes. We got this.

"Of course we do," I shoot back under my breath so that only she could hear. "Nothing but a scratch," I say with a grin as Mouse pulls away from us and begins to circle behind the pair that aimed their weapons in our direction. He watched them with a predatory glint in his eyes, one that I was pertained was mirrored in my own. In Felicity's too, as she kept her focus on the girl behind me.

Mt gaze flicks back to the pair in front of me and I notice the girls eyes studying the crown of ice that rested on my brow. My grin grows, the edges laced with ice. "Do you like it?" I croon, my blood stained fingers gently running over one of the spikes. "Do you know what it means?" I ask as my voice drops into a loud whisper, as though I was about to share a secret for just the two of us. I see her jaw tighten and her lips draw into a thin line and my grin turns into a smirk. "Yeah, I think you do."

She turns away from me, darting forward with her weapon raised to strike and for a moment my smirk falters as icy rage crashes into me and my hand reaches out to stop her. To band around her waist and drag her away from Felicity. Only she doesn't aim for Felicity and I stop myself my fingers instead flexing against the hilt of my sword.

"I would back up and leave y'all alone, but that would require turning my back," Mr. determined-to-brood-until-I-die speaks, drawing my attention away from the girl. "And that is never a good idea."

My grin slips back into place as a cold, dark laugh slips passed my lips. "No, that would not be a good idea," I state as my eyes track his movement, roam over his body from head to toe and back again and I knew that when our eyes locked once again there would be something predatory in my gaze. My fingers twitch on the hilt of my sword and then I lung, twisting away from Mr determined-to-brood-until-I-die and thrusting my blade towards the girl with ice in her eyes.

[coats weapon in poison [2/3]]

randomised attack: 1 hal, 2 marceline
geXyryChwD1-2

[attacks marceline with sword]
sword
[ 9 + 1 ]

1-2·sword

[lucius branwen / 10 — fox]

🌱

girl gets in the fucking way when i'm aiming for Lionel, axe sinking into her leg. and Eight's still trying to justify as she attempts to knife me in the face.

i don't know why. as if it ever made anyone less guilty.

"what do you want me to say, Eight?" i reel back, drag it out of her, gunmetal gray turning red, and it drips down the handle. i watch the snow bleed with it. watch the boy beside her lunge for the pair, little splatter of blood as the spear twists into the softness of the living. "oh, you don't mean it so it's forgivable?"

some bigger person maybe. magnanimous martyr.

i'm not a saint. i'm a girl.

"well lemme tell you now. if you kill me, i hope you rot in hell."

and i almost don't feel it. that's what usually happens. adrenaline is no painkiller, just a delay in awareness. think i learned that when i unearthed a man who walked to the hospital with a shard of metal lodged into his chest. papers said it was after a vehicle accident. they stapled him shut, laceration dried out from extra strength cavity fluid. wasn't the worse i've seen.

my hand closes around the dart in my stomach. i pull. not the worse i've seen either. you wouldn't believe the concentration that they gotta use for putrefactive areas.

Felicity hovers in my vision, blurred in the mess of blades.

fuck's sake.

"hey blondie, let me at your boy for a sec." wave the axe, smile at her, draw it over my shoulder. "let's trade. i'll let you kill me after."

random attack
1.Hal 2.Marceline 3.Felicity 4.Lionel
K31iLwpTES1-4

izzy attacks with pickaxe (axe)
axe

1-4·axe

[d9 kristof parks {ems}]

Every breath is heavy, yet his mind tells him to keep going, to fight, to live. This game, it's brutal, and Hal feels trapped within the icy walls of the castle dungeon while so many watch from the comforts of their homes in the rest of the castle grounds. But every step, every movement, it gives him the courage to pull at the chains, to slowly break them apart, to escape from this madness. It's tough, broken, scattered amongst everyone else. Every piece travels in the wind, and despite a heavy heart trying to escape the prison walls holding it in place, his mind is focused.

There's only one way to make it home.

Nobody wants to be here, nobody wants to live in this moment, but maybe that's what makes them all so resilient, so strong and courageous. They're all bound together, and no matter what, the souls will stay tied together forever, at least that's what Hal believes. But looking at the walls, looking at the snow melting beneath his feet, the ice castle is crumbling, and maybe one of these five will stand when it's all said and done.

And for a moment, he smiles. It's not the end of the world, and even though he feels everyone will eventually forget about him, he knows that's far from true. Everyone has a story, a legacy, something that carries on forever.

Even as he makes eye contact with Marceline trying to figure out what happened to her eyes, it doesn't matter. It will never matter, and it haunts him knowing that this friendship, this allegiance will fall as well.

It's okay if she dies.

It'll hurt like hell, but it has to happen. This game separates the weak from the strong real quickly, and then it shows just how strong people are when their backs are against the wall. Underdogs have a rough life, and his entire life has been spent scratching and crawling his way through. Fighting is hard, yet it doesn't mean everything is for nothing.

The smile grows larger despite being laced with sorrow.

I'm the main character in my own story, and nobody will ever change that.

He pivots on his toes keeping his head held high and standing as steady as he can.

And while the others flirt, Hal knows it's time to move. Time to do something to make this all seem better to give himself a fighting chance.

Sorry doesn't mean anything anymore, and maybe once this is over, he'll figure out how to forgive himself for the terrible sins he's committing.

Credit to Pogue <3

Hal attacks with spear
1. Felicity
2. Lionel
SDMzDcJscD1-2

spear
Block

Accuracy
spear
3.5 1-2·spear·spear

[andromache s. ⚔️ [d1b] sucy]

Almost like a delayed reaction, the guy from Five’s sword comes swinging at Marceline. Stupidly, she jumps back — the sword slices into her ankle, deep this time, and she slips backwards onto the ground slick with her own blood. Had he known Azure Delphine?, she wonders. Doesn’t matter if he did or not. Anyways, there’s more pressing issues. Six practically taunts her, voice pushing down against Marceline as she pulls herself back onto her feet, slower than she’d like but at least she’s standing.

“If you kill me, I hope you rot in hell.”

Marceline laughs, or cries. She isn’t sure what it is that comes out of her mouth, only that it’s a sound. She’s right. This girl can read her like a book somehow. She did it back at the Bloodbath and now, today, with blood dribbling from her stomach, she’s done it again. Marceline shakes her head at the notion. She doesn’t believe in hell; certainly not in heaven either, so the threat doesn’t scare her much. It doesn’t scare her, but it stings nearly as badly as her ankle.

Her foot, not as tenuously attached as Vali’s had been but still struggling, makes an unimaginable sound when she puts her weight on it, but she doesn’t have much of a choice. Worst foot forward, best foot forward — it makes no difference. The pinpointing answers from Six has stupidly pissed her off more than Five’s sword slashing her open.

“Hey Blondie, let me at your boy for a sec. Let’s trade. I’ll let you kill me after.”

She keeps trying to be a smart aleck to all of them, even now when she’s stuck between them all, all alone. Marceline glances over at Blondie, attempting to telegraph her next move… fuck it, who cares what order this happens in? It’s two on two on one. She throws Hal a look. Something’s changed in him to — his tears have dried. Blood squelching, Marceline swings.

marceline attacks izzy!!

NZL_HYJUFgsword

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

sword

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

FELICITY
CARROW.


For once in her life, Felicity wants to see something through. It's the only thing that keeps her eyes on Izzy, despite the dread growing in the pit of her stomach as she feels Lionel recenter himself and duck away from her.

She trusts him, she has to, for better or for worse.

A part of her seethes no longer having him at her back, the cluster of tributes getting further tangled together. They're all a twisted mess, too close together; Felicity takes a step back, and then another, tucking behind a birch bark tree, pulling the dart gun in close to her chest to take a breath. She tucks back and forth on either side of it, scoping, trying to keep her eyes on Izzy. The hacking sound of metal on wood, followed by the splitting cries of spilled blood; it's cacophonous and distracting, but that newly forged bond steadies her feet, just as it had the day before amongst the scorched trees.

Felicity can feel it still, that smudge of shadow on her heart the hags left behind. She doesn't have to wonder what parts of Marceline have been changed for the worse. And Izzy, poisoned wallflower, she knows all the right buttons to push. She has Felicity at Hey, Blondie. 

Standing there, axe slung over her shoulder, she knows exactly the game she's playing.

Something in Marceline warbles then, as if something inside her was being hollowed out. It stirs pity somewhere in the depths of Felicity's stomach.

Not everyone can become a monster with grace.

"If you run," Felicity angles her dart gun towards Marceline, then towards the tree line with a little flick. She fires at Izzy on the exhale. "I'll let you disappear."

felicity shoots dart at izzy,
QiMW26JsQsthrowing knife
9135 -- Shallow Cut on Neck -- 4.0 damage

She looks towards Hal for a moment, spares half a second a half second too late. She tries not to let herself bat an eyelash at the clear line of pain across her forearm, the trickle of warmth she can feel running down to her wrist. She feels it trail a thin line of red before collecting along the heavy wraps around her wrists.

"Not him though." She lurches towards Hal. "Bet you'd leave Marceline if the roles were reversed."

throwing knife

[k!ah]

 
lionel estrada

A cry of pain follows the satisfying feeling of my blade breaking past leather and skin and muscle. I had been aiming for the place between the girls shoulder blades, but she moved to quick and my last minute attempts to save the strike had resulted in me nearly slicing off her foot. Her blood mingled with my own on the ice, hers a couple shades lighter to the crimson that leaked from the gah that had ripped open my stomach. I smile up at her as her gaze sweeps over me before returning to the girl from Six.

My eyes lock with Isodel Owens for the briefest moment, and I smirk at her, the memory of sages body crumpling beneath my blade filling the space between us. I wink. She flicks her eyes to Felicity, "hey blondie, let me at your boy for a sec." She waves her axe at Felicity in a dismissing gesture. My grin widens as I step around Marceline, my blade coated in a thin layer of her blood. Felicity retreats a little, using the woods as armour.

"I'm flattered to hear that you want me," I say to Isodel, casually swinging my sword so that the blunt end of the blade rested on my shoulder. "Or, is it that you want a repeat of yesterday? Want me to cut you down the same way I did your friend?" I tilt my head at her slightly as I bit at the inside of my lip to stop my grin from growing. "Mouthy thing she was. Useless too." I pause again searching the space behind Isodel. There had been three yesterday. Igna. "Looks like you're missing not one, but two friends. Did little miss try hard go and get herself killed when you fled into the shadows last night?" This time I don't stop my smile as it turns into something colder, wilder. "Pity, I had a bone to pick with her."

Movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention and suddenly the boy from Seven is behind Felicity, his blade aimed for her and a growl of warning escapes me to late as I launch forward. Felicity ducks out of the way, avoiding a dangerous strike to the shoulder as her forearm catches the blade knocking it to the side. I glare at Seven, "remember what I said only a few minutes ago. You touch her and I won't be responsible for my actions. You will die. You or Eight. I dont care who. But one of you will not walk away from here I can promise you that." There is a challenge in my stare as I level my blade at him, "so touch her again, I dare you."

[coats weapon in poison [3/3]]

randomised attack: 1 hal, 2 marceline
k5OwKHgK291-2

[attacks marceline with sword]
sword
[ 10 +1 ]

1-2·sword

[lucius branwen / 10 — fox]

🌱

it's like fucking extraordinary how i'm still kicking.

sometimes the smallest thing can kill a person. little blood clot in the head, and suddenly you're hemorrhaging in the brain. Eight opens a cut on my shoulder, stinging in the cold air. the blood's sticking to me, red on deep violet, on the rusted brown of yesterday, layer and layer. feels like i've been turned inside out. funny, i'm not dead yet.

maybe it's on spite alone. because Lionel's saying your friend, he's saying useless, miss try hard. not even a career, and he's parroting all the lines, huh?

i think i've been aware for a long time that my death'll be worth more than my life. how much is a body? how much money have i made from the dead who were in debt. how often will the tape rewind on what he's saying now. how many replays. there's no measurable cost of grief. but you can cash in on advertising slots and meat in the freezer.

it's just how it is.

"yeah." i move towards him, Felicity raises the dart gun again. i look at her, look at him.

laughing, taste of blood in my mouth, "i want you so bad." i'm thinking of Sage on the ground, the snow gathering and piling in the grooves of the blanket, her bones, stretches of frozen skin. and Inga, the red of hair and the red of her lungs in the open stillness of the woods. the thing about growing up alone is, you always expect to end up alone again eventually.

"so get over here, don't make Felicity do all the work."

random attack
1.Hal 2.Marceline 3.Felicity 4.Lionel
DEYBOzjnej1-4

izzy attacks with pickaxe (axe)
axe
11143 -- Deep Gash on Stomach -- 9.0 damage

1-4·axe