lone wolves walking [f/i/l/x/h]

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

Felicity had been right to dream about flying.

She closes her eyes against the warm breeze, stiffer atop the damp boulders that populate the craggy shoreline. Misty lands hesitantly, as if unsure of her footing, and Felicity gives her a scratch where she thinks the creatures jaw ends. She lets out a low whistle of approval before leaning into the wind again, spreading her wings to take flight. The lightning surge last night had left the air tasting like ozone, even now into the morning. It makes sense, to some part of the back of Felicity's mind, the world crumbling out from underneath them while the air stinks of burning carbon.

In rare dreams, Felicity remembers sitting atop broomsticks after hearing stories of witches in school, cackling while she soared on the wind, wicked and fast. Craft paper didn't make for very study witch hats, but she'd worn them all the same, scrambling up to the rooftops to hold her arms wide against the wind. Flying, actually flying, is so much goddamn better. She swoops away from Lionel with a peal of delighted laughter, in spite of it everything.

Even from the misted sky, she can tell the looks on the other tributes faces do not match her own.

Against all odds, it's Ines she sees first, skimming along the wet shore alone. She glances around, as if looking for someone, and Felicity almost swoops down to meet her, thinks about calling out to her even, greeting her with a wave and bright eyes to match the dawning sun. Kindness catches in her chest though, and she watches the way her friend from Eleven slips between the rocks like a wraith.

She doesn't need Felicity dragging her into a fight she has no business in.

With her palm in Misty's feathers, she urges her blizzard fowl on. Beating her wings with grace, Misty carries them over the beach quietly. She uses their shadow as a greeting, swooping over one of the kids from Twelve, then Lucky as he came trudging out of the mass of rock and snow like a shadow wearing the face of someone he used to know. Felicity wonders if killing his girlfriends got the best of him, or someone else actually managed to take out the arena's crown pearls. From above, it's not hard to see how everyone has slowly been herded together. The lines of the avalanche fall too conveniently to be anything other than a curated design. Kudos to Korsch for the well-executed coding. Like sheep to the slaughter, Felicity knows she isn't exempt; finally, she lets Misty slowly descend, swinging in a low circle around Hal.

Sweet, soft-eyed Hal, who looked so very alone. She locks her blue eyes onto his.

"Counted to sixty yesterday and would you know what? You were nowhere to be found." She calls out to him from the back of her mount, feeling the mist on her face from where her birds wings beat the water from its pool. In the years since she had grown, never had cruelty come quite so easily.

Misty's voluminous wings send a gust of air in Hal's direction as she lands with agile feet onto the damp sand. With a quick pat, Felicity sends Misty skyward again, keeping her eyes trained on Hal while she flicks her dart gun into place.

She'd spent the better portion of the night fiddling with the end of it. Rigging flint to its tip, she'd managed to find a way to light the tar slicked darts as they fired; she'd nearly singed her eyebrows off somewhere around 3AM she'd guess, but she hadn't been able to sleep anyhow with of the storm raging. The witching hour had claimed her body and soul, posessed her until she finally collapsed back onto the mattress alongside Lionel, grimy and exhausted, only to be shaken awake less than a sleep cycle later by Viktor as the tower began to topple.

The monkey deserved a few treats for that. She made a metal note to check with Lionel if monkeys could eat the mushrooms she'd found. Then again, she doubts he'll know/

"Gave you a little extra time to hide, but looks like it's game over." She pulls off the safety mechanism, grinning when she watches the tiny match at the end of her gun light. She takes a step forward, feeling the sand compress beneath her heavy boots. The dart cuts right though the little flame as she does, and she knows who's head she wants at the end of the day. "Better luck next time."

felicity sets darts on fire.

shoots at hal, [throwing knife]

k8nbFKfuDBthrowing knife

4

1-50

+2

throwing knife·1-50

[Cait]

ines izar

It’s Izzy in the sky.

The girl surrounded by bones, leaning against a broken down generator illuminated by the glow of the night. It’s ironic now that I’m falling asleep to the hum of the same metal parts I brought to life in this very place, where we became known to each other.

But I didn’t know her. She taunted me; I retaliated; we went our separate ways. Maybe if I was a different type of girl – braver, perhaps – I could have followed her. Learnt from her, adopted that no fucks given attitude that had once seemed so cool and headstrong.

Now, I look back to the sky. Think that maybe it’s better to be gentle and timid after all, even when it feels boring and predictable. People see the small face, the bony stature, think I’m something to look past. People hear the name Izar and reminisce on the tragedies of our past, hold them as gospel. Isn’t that why I made it a point to not learn anyone’s names before entering the Arena?


**and then she breaks the generator bc it’s reckless and out of character and seems like something izzy would have done if she were there lol, but this will get filled in tomorrow!

---

Maggie promises a sunrise that doesn’t come.

Instead of whispered secrets and uncovered scars, she wakes me up with jostled shoulders and panicked screams. Her wild eyes search for an escape that swallows us up and spits us both out on opposite sides of the Arena before I even have time to grab the rope in my bag to try and help her.

Ines?!

Maybe I hear her. Maybe I don’t. All at once, I’m coughing up snow and brine too aggressively to register what’s real and what’s not. The Arena, changing, but maybe it’s always been this way. Maybe the falling snow was a ruse all along. Maybe there’s a metaphor to uncover in the melted fallout.

A winged beast soars through the sparse clouds overhead. Lonora whines at my side, having found me easily on the shore in the aftermath. She’s desperate to join her friend, but I shake my head hard in her direction. I know logically that there are countless reasons why flying would be the best plan of action right now: it would keep me safe from a second wave of the avalanche. It would make it harder for the other tributes to hunt me down, which is now an even greater reality without an ally by my side. And speaking of, above all else, it would be the best chance I have of finding Maggie again.

But it’s day six, and despite all the dead time we’ve had to domesticate our companions, I still haven’t mastered the skies. My stomach churns every time I nestle into Lonora’s plume, terrified she’ll return to her wild roots and fly towards the sun, burning us both up in the process. But like everything in the Arena, the Gamemakers have curated their pets to do their bidding, surely knowing my own anxiety is all the control they need to hold over me. I keep myself shackled, and they don’t even have to lift a finger to my inner struggles.

The waves pound against the sand. I taste the salt and feel my throat burn in response. Maggie isn’t here. Maggie isn’t coming. I’m on my own again.

The bird from before starts to descend on the shore a few feet away. Of course it’s Felicity riding majestically on the snow white back of her beast: the centrepiece of the Games, the perfect blend of kind and cruel, It’s easy to spot the bobbing heads of the other tributes after that, gravitating towards her like they have a choice in the matter. And it takes all of my willpower not to follow them, too, the lure of being reunited with a friend once more all too tempting.

But I am an Izar. I’ve seen cousin after cousin go down this path in the endgame, forced into battle by an invisible hand as numbers dwindle down, further and further. I am an Izar, I am not an Izar, I won’t make their mistakes for them. The sharp edges of the rocky cliffs make my skin ache, bruises already forming in anticipation of dragging myself down into the crevices, but I do it anyway. Tucked away from the world, I grip the hilt of my knife and watch as it changes once more.

[does not attack - camouflaged]

[mat]

l u c k y
nachtnebel

"Don't look at me like that." Lucky shoved the creature's poking head back into his satchel's front pouch. The blood on his hands, mixed with the slosh and snow that collapsed on Xylia, made a mess of his clothes as he tried to wipe it all off. It wasn't his fault that she stayed in the pit as snow, ice, and water tumbled from above. She buried herself, and did that to herself. Anyone with two eyes could see that was the truth of the matter. She was stuck there, and Lucky killed her to save her from the anguish.

His companion dug through the pouch and looked up at him again, its fur as ghost white as it was when he first slid his spear through Xylia's throat. It was mad at Lucky for what he did, he could tell by the way its eyelids squinted together. The stupid little creature thinks it has some moral high ground on him because of what he did. Lucky swung his satchel forward and held it up to his face, the creature's eye directly lined up to his. "I don't have to kill you to win the Games, but that doesn't mean I won't!" Lucky's body ran warm as he chastised the thing. Worthless, stupid thing. He thought when they first crossed paths that something in common with one eye a piece, but now, he felt it mocking him. And like all of the kids who poked fun at him in class, it would regret it if it wasn't careful.

The satchel swallowed the creature again and it did not re-emerge. "Stay in there, you dumb little." Why did he get stuck with such a judgmental creature? Gunner was friends with his crow. He heard him talk most nights during their watch about Lucky and how much he 'hated' him. Hate was the best way for Gunner to display his affection. They were friends, he knew that, and maybe with more time, they could have been something more. Xylia and Rita were his friends too. Lucky felt stronger with them around, whether they gave him confidence or a shield. But they were all gone. That well ran dry.

Who else in the arena would want to be his friend? If Xov knew what he did to Lionel in the cabin, did everyone? Lucky kicked stray rocks as he maneuvered the far edge of the mountains that divided the Fold and the Ice Sheets. No more friends, just enemies. The creature squirmed, wanting to be let out. "No, no, no, you're either on my team or you can suffocate in there. If I let you out and you so much as look at me the wrong way, I'll tear you to pieces." Lucky heard his father in his voice, scolding, abusive, and cold, getting what he wanted by the threats he spat toward a defenseless little creature who depended on him for survival.

Lucky climbed partway into the night before settling within an indentation in the mountain. The wind and bitter chill in the arena ceased further and further by the minute. The pockets of snow in the crease were mostly melted. He laid down his tent flat across the surface as a blanket and removed most of his layers. He was used to these sorts of temperatures in Four. Was it hot? No. Not yet, anyway. He wasn't a meterol- meteorgis- meteorologist, but Lucky did know there was no point in wearing layer upon layer of wool and his leather armor in this weather. He'd probably collapse from it.

Before settling in for the evening, Lucky unlatched the satchel and the creature came crawling out. He watched its every move for the first five minutes, daring it not to heed his words. It obeyed, whether it was under fear of Lucky or fear of his new axe. He relaxed, finally, arms stretched back, watching the sunset behind a veil of water droplets from the indent's entrance. Arms cradling around his axe, the boy rested. Pure exhaustion made it easy not to dwell.

His eye opened to the sound of cracking, and a layer of dust fading onto the bridge of his nose. But Lucky jumped as the cracking turned to crumbling and the dust turned into a collapse of rock. The veil of water shifted to a stream at the entrance. With only a few moments, Lucky grabbed his things and ran out from the collapsing mountain.

The avalanche of wet snow and rock terrorized him as Lucky maneuvered the side of the mountain. He kept an eye on the sky above, careful to dodge the onslaught of tumbling debris. Thankfully, it seemed like most of the destruction was moving inward, and Lucky rested on the outside. He already survived that initial crash the day before, he did not need to be swept up on the second go.

Lucky wrapped himself in his cloak once more. The decorative faces that once glared at him and whispered to him melted away like the arena's snow. He did not need to see the faces to know that they were still judging him like the creature that ran a few paces behind. No friends, just enemies. When painted as a villain, act like one. Lucky's entire exterior was covered in darkness: his cloak, his leather armor, his ripped jeans. Even the bone helmet that crowned his head. Maybe the Capitol wanted him to be their villain to feed the story. Heartthrob to heartless.

Every muscle in his body obeyed, playing the part. He was left with the only thing he walked up onto the stage in District Four with: a desire to win by any means necessary. The stripped-back version of Lucky Nachtnebel before he allowed everything to get so messy. The plans, the strategy; he could smell victory to the point where none of it mattered.

Reaching the beach unveiled a new sunlight to the arena that hadn't yet been uncovered during its winter season. Lucky clutched his axe in one hand and Xylia's glaive in the other as he heard shouting from ahead. Above, maybe? He recognized the voice of ten. The girl who scored the ten, Felicity. Still alive. He figured that would be the case, given how she handled herself in that cabin on the first day. He knew not to mess around with her.

But there were others, too. Xov from Twelve, Hal from the Training Center. And was that Ines hiding away in the crevices? Lucky pretended not to notice, wandering around the stony edge of the beach. Mouth agape, Lucky's breaths loomed as he looked away.

His axe spun on instinct, hoping to catch Ines by surprise. Lucky turned to the right, in the direction of his patched eye. He swung with force, unsure and uncaring about precision. "Are we hiding?" He whispered cruelly in her direction.

[ lucky attacks ines ; pike (axe) ]
lJ3M|ghaHvaxe
[ 11013 -- Shallow Cut on Right Calf -- 3.5 damage ]

axe

[august vance d7b [Bella]]

⤜ x o v - ♥ - t h a o ⟶

Xov had heard the story over and over a hundred times.

The world as they knew it was created when the universe turned upside down, spilling the oceans so that every living thing drowned except two people who hid in a giant funeral drum. As the mountains and valleys and deserts were filled with water, the wooden drum rose on the waves until it scratched the sky, prompting the sky people to investigate. The people in the drum pleaded for help, so the sky people poked holes in the earth so the water could drain out and everyone could live again.

She recalled this tale when she woke to the rumbling earth and watched the distant ocean swallow the mountains, giant chunks of ice creating walls of water as they fell. But this felt more like an ending than a creation story.

Luckily she had fallen asleep (collapsed from exhaustion) in the saddle the night before while they wandered the arena looking for food and firewood, Gus lounging between her and the saddle horn. They were a hodgepodge bunch of lifeforms: a bruised, skinny girl with a bad haircut, a tiny buffalo, and a giant polar bear, doing their best to outlast death together.

Xov wiped some dried drool from the corner of her mouth and readied herself in the saddle. ”GO! GO!” she shouted to her dire polar bear, whom she had taken to calling “Go-go” just because she always had to say it twice. The bear usually seemed to act on his own time, but even he realized this was no time for grazing. He shook himself awake and started to lumber forward, then broke into a run in a flurry of shoulders and hips that almost threw them off his back.

Once again, they ended up near the water, like a recurring dream. The more distance she tried to put between herself and the sea, the more impossible it was to escape. Now, throwing her legs off the saddle, she thought that it was getting even bigger, the water spilling over onto the craggy shore. A lot more waves to pull one under, and a lot more rocks to crack one’s head open. The thought twisted her stomach in knots.

At the sound of voices it became clear this wasn’t a flood—it was the Gamemakers’ way of backing them all into a corner, forcing them to fight. Only the voice she heard wasn’t familiar at all. Xov told her companions to get lost, then crouched behind a rock as they walked away, straining to listen.

”Gave you a little extra time to hide, but looks like it's game over.”

She peered around the side and saw the girl from Three, the one who had gotten the highest training score. Xov knew nothing about her. And Hal. He had abandoned Marceline, apparently—she wasn’t surprised. Days ago she had warned the girl that she’d allied with a coward and an evil witch; she’d have to remember to say I told you so.

A flash of brown hair caught her eye along the craggy shoreline. The girl from Eleven, Ines. When their eyes locked, Xov stiffened, but seeing that Ines didn’t move, she brought two fingers to her lips, zipped them shut. I didn’t see anything.

She’d be damned if she attacked Marcus’s district partner in the very place where he died, even if the two of them hadn’t stuck together.

But her silence made no difference. Lucky came barreling around the corner, axe swinging into the rock. Always a game of cat and mouse with that one.

It was like deja vu. The ocean, the ice caps, Lucky, the axe, Eleven.

She had heard that recurring dreams were your unconscious mind trying to get you to notice something you had been looking at the wrong way. Last time, she had stood there helplessly while Lucky and his thugs butchered her friend, taking piece by piece until he lay crumpled and bleeding on the ground.

So this time, she would listen—no more standing by.

”Back off, Lucky,“ she growled, readying her weapon. ”This whole career-picking-on-the-lower-districts trope is getting old.”

{xov attacks lucky, pike (axe)}
u9YBL_ogILaxe
{11045 - Shallow Cut on Right Shoulder - 3.5 damage}

axe

[d9 kristof parks {ems}]

The ground rumbles, and the rumbling grows louder and more powerful. Hal jumps to his feet. Wide eyes dart back and forth, and all he can see is a cloud of white.

"Marceline, we have to go!"

Every moment is panicked as he hops onto Titan urging him to move forward, to run as fast as he possibly can away from everything that's going on. Every hair stands on end, and he tries making sure he stays close to Marceline because the idea of losing her is terrifying. But none of that matters. Making sure he stays alive is the most important aspect of it all.

And in the midst of everything, he loses her. He tries finding her, but he doesn't know where she is, or if she's even alive, and he stands still as the arena changes into something magnificent.

It's beautiful which makes it even more terrifying.

The uncertainty weighs heavy on Hal's shoulders as he navigates the ever-changing landscape of the arena. Every step he takes is fraught with doubt and fear, unsure of what dangers may lie around the next corner. The absence of Marceline only adds to his sense of unease, leaving him feeling vulnerable and alone in this treacherous environment.

But it's Felicity that catches his attention before anything else.

"Are you going to walk the walk and talk the talk today?" It's a genuine question as he steps out of the way of a dart that's flying towards him unsure of what might happen. It stings a little, and maybe that's what's supposed to happen.

He digs through his bag grabbing the tar and the flint, and he slathers the tar onto his spear. With a quick motion, the flame comes to life. It's dangerous, but if she wants to fight with fire, Hal knows obliging is the best thing to do.

"Or are you just going to talk the talk like you did yesterday?"

Credit to Pogue <3

Hal uses tar and flint to light his spear on fire
Hal attacks Felicity
v1w3PCyivlspear
3.5
1-50
extinguished spear·1-50

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

Felicity recognizes immediately the thin, glass jar Hal pulls from his pack. It shatters in pieces around the end of his spear, decorating the rocky sand with broken shards. They catch the light, already blinding from days spent drowning in a sea of clouds. Now, vast and wide open, there's nothing to hold back the power of the light.

She hears the match flick more than she sees it, the sun square behind Hal. She knows better than to hold her breath and wait to see what comes next. 

Felicity tries to sidestep his oncoming shadow, but she lets a hiss slip when she feels the sharp of Hal's spear slicing across the back of her calf. It's a clever move, slows her down right out the gate, and she halfway wishes she hadn't sent Misty flying away. She can see her circling, high up above. Perhaps the better choice would've been to stay airborne, out of reach and made safer by the distance. She dips away from Hal, and casts a quick, leery glance towards the wound.

The sticky tar has caught on her slashed tights, leaving a nasty residue behind. There's no burn associated though, and she cocks a grin that has a lot more to do with luck than it does anything else upon realizing the stuff must've been expired.

"Oof," she tugs on her own bravado, pulling it taut. If she can wield nothing else, at least let her words be whips. "Maybe you should've practiced that one last night."

Felicity aims, point blank, hoping the fire saves her.

shoots flaming dart #2 at hal, [throwing knife]

ehMPsjMK_Ithrowing knife

3.5

1-50

+2

Felicity tries to sweep behind Hal, going for the back of his knee with her boot while she hopes for personal space back. She doesn't wait to see if he teeters off balance or not. This up close and personal thing is for, well, anyone else as far as she's concerned. Scrambling along the sand, she pulls herself up higher onto one of the sea-slicked boulders, grateful for the heavy tred on their boots. The wraps around her hands give her extra grip, and she pulls herself upward with ease. 

A heavy, furious part of her ignites with the height. Only blindness would shield her from noticing Lucky, wearing his crown of bones, as he looms like death in an armored vest over Ines.

She's seen kinder depictions of the Grim Reaper.

What, she wonders, dark parts of her own soul have been revealed while she tried to survive?

throwing knife·1-50

[Cait]

ines izar

The plan doesn’t work.

Granted, it’s not much of a plan – I’m sure I’ve had smarter ideas than hiding at the edge of the world and trying to amp myself up to join a fight that’s already started. But for a moment, I let myself entertain the idea that I might be safe, that I won’t have to fight again today, despite the unfortunate turn of events that has me locking eyes with a girl dressed in a tattered grey uniform.

It’s not the discovery of my hiding place that throws me off kilter. It’s not even the fact that the girl decides to spare me for some unknown reason – for now. It’s the fact that somehow, impossibly, I’ve garnered the attention of yet another Career. Maggie and I are separated, and a new knight in shining armour materialises to take her place – only this one doesn’t want to play friends. For a wallflower, you tend to have a way of attracting questionable company.

Lucky isn’t a stranger, as much as I want him to be. And logically I know he’s only doing what the rest of us need to do, too, probably fuelled by some kind of uncapped hatred at the very obvious absence of Xylia. The only difference is he’s not afraid to start something he knows he can finish. I feel myself scream as his voice looms up beside me, swinging the end of my knife wildly around my body at the first sign of danger.

ines attacks lucky, throwing knife
saYMVGOSTDthrowing knife

The weapon’s handle begins to loosen in my grip as it searches for a familiar flight path, but I hold tighter as I scramble out from between the rocky interface. The rocks aren’t safe. Of course they couldn’t keep me safe – they can barely hold my fears together in one place. I feel ridiculous, scrambling out of my hiding place with messed hair and frantic eyes that never leave Lucky’s cold, calculating face.

For a moment, I see Rita. I see Harley. I wonder if he sees them, too, when he looks at me.

But just as quickly, the moment is suffocated by a slicing of flesh and an echo of venomous words I barely hear over the watery sounds of the shore.

“Back off, Lucky. This whole career-picking-on-the-lower-districts trope is getting old.” History, written; it turns to the next chapter. The blank page forms the silhouette of a brown-eyed girl being pulled apart by faceless, savage creatures holding sharp sticks.

The space where Maggie once stood, shifting from empty to occupied. Not a friend, but as close to the real thing.

I look at Felicity, watch the flames lick her fired bullet as. Turn back to the raven-haired girl fighting in my honour, fighting where I cannot. Turn to Felicity, calculate the distance it would take to run to her side and fight with her, then take two steps in her direction. Look back at the battle unfolding right in front of me, and wonder how two people can hold such fury in their eyes.

“I’m okay.” Nobody is asking; I’m telling myself, trying to make it true.

I mean to ask her, then, “are you?”
Want to say, “thank you.”
Should probably say, “I need to go.”

Instead, I whisper, “What are you doing?”

Because I am no mind reader – I don’t know the motives of the girl in grey, can only settle for accepting she simply hates Lucky more than she dislikes me. And I am no Maggie – I am not a mastermind of a girl; nor a Career capable of seeing three steps ahead of everybody else; and definitely not a girl capable of fighting. This is what I tell myself with my hands bloodied and Harley’s ghost circling the skies where blizzard fowls roam free. But to fight in defence of a could-be friend?

I look at Felicity, watch her absorb Hal’s fire. Turn back to the raven-haired girl with a freshly stained axe and a promise to avenge.

I wonder if that’s a burden I’m ready to bear.

throwing knife

[mat]

l u c k y
nachtnebel

The axe glanced off the rocky edge. He misjudged where Ines was in his blind spot as the unflinching rock refused to budge with his force. Lucky's entire arm, from wrist to shoulder, slid along with it, slamming against the rock and ending face-to-face with Ines and an approaching Xov. Ines's reaction was priceless to him, even if he hadn't punished her. The scream and the flick of a blade ricocheted off his back while he was turned and regaining strength. When Lucky turned back, the girl was gone and it appeared that Xov took her place. New haircut, same impending heroism. She scolded him for his actions, more aggressively today than a few days back when he killed Marcellus. "This whole career-picking-on-lower-districts trope is getting old."

Her axe swung in vengeance, catching Lucky's arm as he turned to fully face her. His eye rolled, frustrated once more. "Looking, Xovvy, I hate every one of you equally and every district equally." He towered over her at full posture, an armored boy against an armored girl. It wasn't a fight worth having, two-on-one with her and Ines. Lucky shoved against her, sprinting down the beach where Felicity and Hal sparred near the water. "Come catch me if you can, Xovvy!" It was his intention to pull her into the chaos of the others fighting. That was where Lucky thrived best, under a condition of disruptiveness. Even if Xov and Ines (wherever she was, he'd lost track of her) continued their crusade against him, he would take a clustered fight over a cornered one nine times out of ten.

Lucky's boots dug into the sand as he ran at the pair, Hal with a spear and Ten with a gun. Smoke burned from each of their weapons. Geez, he thought, rolling his shoulder to try and shake off the impact injury from his first swing at Ines, They hate each other enough to play with fire…

He knew Hal to be an endearing kid, although the innocent boy he met in the Training Center clearly faded at this point as blood glossed his weapon and clothes. It made Lucky proud, in a sense, that he made it this far! It was a teacher-student moment, albeit ten times more twisted and twenty times less committal.

As much as he liked him and preferred the boy to Felicity, Hal's fire dimmed and hers still raged on through another shot. Lucky gripped Xylia's glaive and redirected his sprint to Hal. He dug his heels into the wet sand as he got closer, taking a swipe against him. Even with the change of seasons, the blade ran cold. As did his words as he shouted at them both. "Sorry to interrupt," he paused, holding back the quietest of laughs. "Who am I kidding? No, I'm not. Careful, though. One comes, more follow." He nodded back from where he came, assuming Xov and perhaps Ines were chasing him on the beach.

[ lucky attacks hal ; permafrost (glaive) ]
pUDXsSm9VCglaive
[ 13180 -- Block -- 0.0 damage ]

[ accuracy re-roll ; day 6 ]
glaive
[ 13148 -- Shallow Cut on Right Bicep -- 3.5 damage + 1.0 Frost ]

glaive·glaive

[august vance d7b [Bella]]

⤜ x o v - ♥ - t h a o ⟶

The steel at the end of her pike sliced into Lucky’s shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood. Such cuts couldn’t kill, not unless there were a hundred of them, and she felt frustrated that she could only ever scratch the surface of him. Her face twisted into a scowl.

Lucky towered over her like a superhuman, his muscled body evidence of the bounty of food he’d received from the Cornucopia while she’d been scavenging for berries in the bushes. She felt the difference of their abilities like they were standing on a scale, one side tipped heavily in his direction. Each time she faced him, she was reminded of the limits of her confidence, the flame of her courage flickering.

Limbs all in a flurry, her head spun to check on Ines.

"I’m okay."

Her voice was cautious, quieter than Xov had imagined. It puzzled her for a second, like hearing someone’s voice through a telephone for the first time. In her periphery, she could see Lucky rolling his eyes. His eye.

"What are you doing?"

In that whisper Xov heard a little sister a world away, someone who didn’t belong in the place where they were standing, between the roaring ocean and jagged rocks stained with blood. She felt a tug in her chest like warmth, like a childhood memory rushing back from the smell of flowers in the wind.

This wasn’t the place for the glimmer of curiosity that bloomed with kind words. Xov acted impulsively, by reflex. She didn’t have a plan. She didn’t know what was doing, but there was an instinct that guided the blade of her pike. Not her hands, but the hands of a little girl from Twelve who used to sit under an old maple’s branches in a windstorm, worried sick that the robin’s eggs would tumble from the nest while she wasn’t there to catch them.

A longing to protect something soft in a fragile shell.

"Get out of here!" she yelled, sharper than she meant. This girl would be a sitting duck, backed against the rocks as she was. She turned to face Lucky, attempting to guard Ines with her back. He squeezed her name through his lips in mockery. Xovvy.

”I hate every one of you equally and every district equally,” he clarified.

Oh, how generous, she thought.

Angry words stuck in her throat and burned there like acid as she watched him turn and run, a horned deer prancing away from the mess he had started, calling out for her to catch him. A giant king and his crown of pretty bones. It left a sour taste in her mouth.

She followed like a moth to a flame.

Unlike Lucky, no one had taught her how to be a warrior. Six days in, her weapon felt just as awkward in her hands as the first day she had plucked it from the pile. This whole time, she was convinced it only struck true in a combination of luck, grit, and her ancestors’ safekeeping, silent and distant as they were. There was no reason she should still be standing while her friends were in their graves.

She had told her parents in the justice building, "I’ll learn as much as I can. I’ll kill if I need to."

But what had she learned except that the ones you loved could be taken from you before you could even ask their favorite color?

Marcus, who wouldn’t run away when she screamed for him to listen. Juno, whose bad luck earned him a broken leg within seconds of the gong sounding.

But still he had looked Gunner, spitting and kicking at them, straight in the eye, steel-faced and certain: You don’t get to decide what we deserve.

So here she was, learning what she could. Not running away. Taking what she had earned. Living.

The five of them seemed arranged in a scattered circle as if preparing a choreographed dance. She watched Ines cautiously–glanced at Felicity, gun smoking. The girl’s aura oozed self-assuredness; maybe it was the way she held her weapon, like she knew what all the buttons could do. In comparison, Xov felt like someone trying to figure out where her fingers fit on top of football laces.

Lucky swiped at Hal, who had been hit already by Felicity. It was like Xov to attempt to tip the scales. Her feet closed the distance, weapon raised.

"I still haven’t busted your nose for telling everyone my secret," she said. That idle threat seemed so long ago now, made back when they had stood on even footing. "But I forgive you. I’m not afraid anymore."

{xov attacks lucky, pike (axe)}
GIcwzxm40maxe
{Shallow Cut on Stomach -- 4.0}

axe

[d9 kristof parks {ems}]

For a moment, his eyes light up as the flame grows bright, but soon, everything crumbles as the flame extinguishes before he could do anything with it. Sometimes even the slightest of movement can change everything -

"Yeah I should've practiced."

Maybe not in the arena with his lone jar of tar, but in the training center. Learning how to hold a weapon, how to keep the flame burning bright instead of everything else going dim around it. Not that it matters. He's accepted his fate, and maybe that's why he isn't screaming or begging for anything. It doesn't do any good anyway, and all he wants is a chance to stand on his own two feet for as long as he possibly can. Sometimes it isn't enough.

Listening to the others, it almost brings him a sense of peace. It's like being back home listening to his siblings bicker about something stupid, yet before he has a chance to move, Lucky shifts his target. When he starts speaking, Hal can't help but roll his eyes only to realize things quickly change.

"Glad you realized you're not sorry."

Hal takes a step back trying to make sense of it all. Trying to figure out where to go from here when nothing else matters. It's a cruel world, and maybe being innocent, maybe pretending that nothing bad happens - it's all a fairy tale because at the end of the day, none of this matters. It'll never matter. This place, it's a mass grave, and he'd rather be sacrificed in the arena than live with the pain of killing another.

But I don't want to die.

"Because none of us are sorry here. None of us should apologize. We're playing a game we all want to win, and if anyone says they're sorry, they must be lying. Not only to all of us, but to themselves, and whoever thinks they're sorry, is in for a very rude awakening."

Never apologize. Never back down. Sorry doesn't cover it, and anyone who apologizes needs to learn and understand the nature of this game. It's selfish, and nobody should apologize for doing what has to be done to keep themselves alive.

"Never apologize for doing what's best for you."

Credit to Pogue <3

Hal attacks Felicity
4jCzpyOA28spear
Miss

Accuracy reroll
spear
Block

spear·spear

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

Later, Felicity will tell herself it was the haircut that convinced her to consider Xov an ally for now.

Reality is something more grim, affection building brick by brick every time Xov looks at Ines like a father looks at the project they finished rather than spend time with their child, which is to say she looked at her like something rather precious. Felicity only sees it in her periphery; Hal crowds her again, keeping her heart rate quick as she tried to stay out of his reach. The mask of cruelty she'd pulled over her face yesterday fails her, leaving her breathless and quiet. Flowers are blooming again in the arena, new growth sprouting up through the melting snow, and it's not hard to see the changes that have been wrought on them all.

Blood scatters constellations across the damp sand, tiny droplets flicked from open wounds and Lucky's terrifying blades.

Ines' scream ricochets, bouncing off the rocky waste left behind by the collapse. In the distance, Felicity sees a section of the snow react, steadiness disintegrating as a wave of rock and debris toppled free.

It isn't enough to stop the whoop of pride when she sees Ines fire right back, point blank range.

Lucky turning to charge towards her, however, has her grimacing.

His footprints leave deep indentations in the sand in his wake, a trail of intention laid by thunderous confidence. He steals the air out of the space, doesn't leave any room for Felicity at close range had she even wanted to be there. Dirty little trick, she lets him barreltin and turns tail to side step the both of them, skimming her boots along the ground to kick sand towards the boys. Her next dart, tar slicked and ready, she doesn't have patience to question it long before she fires backward through the spray, angling for Hal.

shoots at hal, [throwing knife]

asYChx2SOGthrowing knife

0

1-50

0

accuracy

throwing knife

6.0 knife in calf

Hal, of course, is right in what he says, just like she knows he was right to retaliate against her. The moment and reality continue to exist from them into perpetuity, regardless of who said they were sorry or they didn't; so they all should just blaze on, hyperaware of everyone's incredible importance, and absolute irrelevance. That kind of truth feels heavy.

Felicity finds it easier to turn her back to it than stare it dead on.

"That last shot was good! Just breathe, sweetness, we got this." Is it awful to cheer her on? It settles into Felicity's gut, exuberance, a half-wild grin reemerging thinking about Ines' dart impaling itself on the back of Lucky's leathers. It looked almost comedic, poking out while he made heavy arcs with that crystalline blade. Her own heartbeat rushes in her ear, wild and out of rhythm. Her blue eyes glow bright in the exposed sun, the water reflecting light back into them. "And aim lower next time."

Boots squared beneath her shoulders, she wills her iron blood to steady, and turns back as a witness. She wonders if this blood will feed the arena, the way the other pools of it have. She almost dares to dream of spring.  

throwing knife·1-50·throwing knife

[Cait]

ines izar

“Get out of here!”

The harshness shocks me. It’s wild and unfiltered and for a moment I wonder if she’s simply telling me the advice she wishes she could accept for herself. Even as I begin to back away from her duel with Lucky, she’s trying to shield me, heaven knows why. Am I really that pathetic?

Once, it would have been so easy to run.

“Never apologise for doing what’s best for you.”

The words aren’t meant for me, but I catch them all the same. It’s a loaded statement for me, a bitter pill to sit with. As a girl made of sorry, I question everything. How do you know what the right thing to do is? What’s to say the next decision you make won’t land you six feet under? How do you reconcile with the reality of never knowing anything for certain? And in a place of no friends, who is the real enemy?

I look around – see them everywhere, but they’re just kids trying to live by new rules. Lucky projects a cruelty I don’t want to take for the truth. The girl he calls Xovvy lets vengeance take hold, another confident strike aimed at his chest. And Felicity? Well, she knows what she’s doing too, dodging and deflecting searing metal like the most agile of Careers. She seems to barely break a sweat as she glances up at me and yells words of encouragement for the fresh blood forming through Lucky’s shirt, not knowing it was an accident.

For a terrible moment, I almost confess all of my sins to her, just to hear her undeserved praise again – how I killed her district partner in the most cowardly of ways. But something about Harley feels different to Lucky – these strangers should all be the same to me, and yet. She seems like something to hold tight against my chest, cradled beside my furiously pounding heart.

Maybe I’m just not ready for Felicity to see me as a monster.

It's far easier to pretend to be something I’m not. So I tell myself it’s helping when I move closer, carefully avoiding the glint of Lucky’s weapon as the two fights begin to merge into one. I tell myself it doesn’t make me a killer to be a friend.

Just breathe.

I’m okay.

I miss Maggie more than I thought I would. But standing next to Felicity – even standing next to Xovvy? It feels as close to home as I’ll ever get again, and I can almost believe that I am, really, okay.

“And aim lower next time.”

“Like this?”

ines attacks hal – throwing knife

_KogpgwckYthrowing knife

throwing knife

[mat]

l u c k y
nachtnebel

Of course, as soon as Lucky turned his head, Xov closed in. He turned back to Hal, eyebrows raised as if to say I told you so. She came for him again, saying she wasn't afraid of the water anymore like she confessed to him in the Training Center. Xovvy's axe bit through the leather on his chest. He left her alone, he left Ines alone, what more did she want? Did she… have a secret crush, perhaps? Wouldn't be the first person who pretended to hate him because they wanted him that bad.

Hal was methodical, at least, accepting Lucky's rescinding apology as he moved on to Felicity again. Lucky felt bad for him, knives and blades flew in his direction and all Hal could do was take it and try to fight back. "Never apologize for doing what's best for you," he said, and Lucky nodded in agreement to Xov. "See? My good friend Hal gets it." He attacked out of necessity, not out of hate. Lucky committed to his allies and his allies only. He wanted to tell her that if Marcellus didn't want to die, he should have been less expendable in Lucky's pecking order, but he kept that thought to himself. There was no need to poke a bear already up his ass.

Lucky sheathed the glaive between his belt and his jeans, leaving both his hands to march with the axe. He jogged a few paces removed from Hal as knives continued to fly at him from Felicity and now Ines. Hal took a couple of swipes in Felicity's direction again. "Oh! Oh!" He commentated, although neither shot connected. It was bold, though, considering the smoke that rose out from her gun. "Just a little bit closer, dude! Like I taught you," Lucky said, axe raised at his chest and he joined him. Were his words of encouragement welcome? Probably not, but Lucky switched sides again, joining Hal against Felicity.

With Gunner, Rita, and Xylia dead, his allegiances shifted with every wave that crashed against the shore. Whatever made sense in the heat of the moment was what he'd work with. As much as Ten's score intimidated him, there were kids with half her score still alive. Inga and Gunner, the other two who had scores of nine, were dead. If he killed her, he might solidify himself as the top dog.

Axe raised, he passed Hal, and sprinted to Ten. A bull rushing toward red, he knew exactly what he was doing.

As long as the water swayed, no one was safe.



[ lucky attacks felicity ; pike (axe) ]
8XJxcIKutMaxe
[ 11072 -- Shallow Cut on Right Bicep -- 3.5 damage ]

axe

[august vance d7b [Bella]]

⤜ x o v - ♥ - t h a o ⟶

Felicity was glowing. Blue eyes gleaming in the sunlight, her missiles seemed to land right where she aimed them. Xov watched her with a mixture of admiration and unease. How long before the end of that gun would be pointed at her? Each knife that dug into Hal brought them all closer to the time when those who had earned each other’s trust would turn on each other.

The thought was brief and had arrived in a rush of panic when Felicity called to Ines, cheering her on and advising her to aim low. Xov bristled at the familiarity in that voice; the word sweetness blew through her, hollowed her out for a moment, made her feel suddenly alone. Ines followed the instructions unquestioningly, then missed Hal.

Was Felicity giving bad advice on purpose? And what kind of bond did she have with Ines that she listened to her so easily? Were they together, and this fight suddenly two against a divided three? Or was Ines just gullible enough to take advice from a capable stranger?

But in the space of a few hurried breaths, she shoved the doubt down deep. Here, she should be measuring her movements in seconds–that would keep her alive, and she knew deep down that she should welcome the help. Thinking ahead in a million chess moves only made her head hurt. And it made her feel slow, confused.

A glimmer of hope sparked in her chest, and she blew on the embers, coaxing it to grow. Maybe the two girls beside her were her safe haven for the time being. That was more than she could ask for.

Ines stood to her left. ”Stand behind me if you want,” Xov whispered. Thought: Marcellus died keeping me safe from Lucky and his thugs. I owe it to Eleven, but her lips couldn’t form his name or the word “died.”

When Lucky barreled towards Felicity, axe raised, she thought she knew where her loyalties lie. He was on one side of the blade, the girls on another. It was that simple--it had to be. She moved to form the point of the triangle, boots digging into the sand.

Hal was right, but he didn’t need to be. She wasn’t sorry.

Xov wouldn't let Lucky out of her sight. Not a single pixel of the old image remained of the charming athlete she'd met in the training room. Now when she looked at him, all dressed in black, she saw only death and danger.

"What's with the anger? Are you mad that she's prettier than you?"

{xov attacks lucky, pike (axe)}
R0VUPdRo|Iaxe
{11082 -- Shallow Cut on Right Hip -- 3.5}

axe

[d9 kristof parks {ems}]

It all feels so heavy, so useless, so pointless to keep going, but he promised, he swore to his family he'd give it his all no matter what, yet right now, Hal wants nothing more than to lay down and sleep. That's all death is. It's going to sleep for the rest of eternity, and maybe it's even peaceful. Maybe once all the blood leaves his body and stains the ground, everything will just feel better.

But I'm not dead. No, I'm very much alive.

And while the idea of killing someone else haunts him, he yearns for the chance to return home, to see his family again, to live a life that's worth it. Growth is painful, it brings on so much heartache and stress, and it's hard to hold it all in when the world screams around him. It's hard, and nothing makes any sense.

We're all just kids trying to survive.

Even before being in the games, it's a dog eat dog world that only the strongest survive, and it's the same thing here. Everything is about weeding out the weak, about changing people, about proving their strength. It's why Hal is amazed he's survived this far, and maybe he can make it even further. But he has to figure out where he's failing and what's happening. He wants to live, yet it feels as though the rest of him wants to die.

"Just a little bit closer, dude! Like I taught you."

Sometimes even having a person to offer advice can make things go far. It can give the courage and strength that's needed to succeed, but maybe it isn't worth it here. Look at what the lesson had done. Jericho didn't deserve it - at least it was quick and painless. And now, he sits here wondering why he can't even do the basic things.

I killed a man, and I feel so guilty.

Perhaps forgiving himself is the most important thing. Letting go of the pain, trying to figure out what he can in order to succeed and live.

His gaze shifts between Lucky and Felicity. Both of which have given him a reason to attack them. Both of them have targeted him. But Lucky has helped him. Lucky gave him advice whereas Felicity gave him a chance.

I didn't come here for friends.

He takes a step back, readies his grip, and tries to do what's best for him. It doesn't matter. Everyone has to die - I can forgive myself later. Not that it matters because all he wants is to curl up and cry, to just let go of it all, to do everything to make sure nothing else is struggling.

Maybe being silent is for the best. It's helped him before, and maybe it'll help him again.

I don't know what to do, but I'm just doing my best.

Credit to Pogue <3

Hal attacks with spear
1 Felicity
2 Lucky
eoKpO7VfE81-2

spear
1-2·spear