eyes- sorry, eye- on the prize { lionel v lucky day 8 }

[k!ah]

The moon has just passed the highest peak in the sky, the light it cast almost made it look like Mouses wings were glowing against the night sky. Sleep wasn't in the cards for me this morning, and as Mouse and I soared through the darkness my body still strummed in some sort of sick delight of the memory of Hals lifeless eyes glaring at me, shocked, as I took what was owed and avenged Felicity. The only regret I had about taking that assholes life, was that it happened too quick. I should have taken my time with him, really made sure that he regretted the moment he thought that killing Felicity was the right move.

It wasn't.

A mistake he paid for with his life.

Grinning, my eyes scan the forrest beneath us like a predator hunting its prey. Mouse glides closer to the tree tops, the tips of his talon scraping against the upper branches, as he also scans the forrest floor with a predatory focus. Silence wraps around us and I lean into his body closer resting my cheek against his feathered neck as I close my eyes for a moment. I was so tired, and my body felt like it had been bent and broken every way till Sunday. "I'm so tired, Mouse," I murmur into his feathers, and for the first time in days the weight of everything that has happened crushes me its weight and suddenly it feels hard to breathe.

"I'm so, so tired. And everything fucking hurts."

Pathetic. Useless. Disappointment.

My fathers words pound into me like a nail, driving in deeper and deeper until I feel like I want to scream.

Weak. Weak. Weak.

Turning my face into Mouses's neck I scream, I scream and I scream and I scream. I scream until I feel nothing, the sound muffled by Mouses feathers. And when I lift my head I take a deep breath and I smile. "We will never speak of whatever the hell that was again, got it?" I huff at Mouse because fuck that. Fuck my father. Fuck the lot of them. I was not fucking weak. I was not pathetic and useless. And I sure as hell was not a disappointment.

I was unbreakable.

I was a predator.

I was someone worth fighting for.

Sure I was twisted and a little fucked up, who wouldn't be after this shit show?

I was worth fighting for.

I was worth fighting-

"Shit, Mouse!" I bark as suddenly his wings tuck into his side and we plummet into the forrest. Mouse slams onto the ground, a snarl in his throat as he glares at- "Well, isn't this just a fucking treat!" Before me was Pretty boy Lucky. Only he wasn't looking so pretty at the moment. And he was one eye short of a full set. "My dude, you look like shit," I smirk down at him, Mouse flaring his wings threatening as I slip from his back, going to stand in front of Cyclops Jones. "What happened to your face?" I ask as I fold my arms across my chest studying him from head to toe.

"That eye patch makes you look like you one second from ripping off your clothes and jumping onto a pole to give us a show- are those fucking gemstones?" I say as I lean closer, squinting at the bejewelled eye patch. Shaking my head I give him a disappointed look. "I don't think your threats are going to hit the same if you look like you're about to start a disco fever in the middle of the night." The guy was still easily two times my size and looked like a walking mass of muscles. But it was hard to take him seriously when he was glaring at me with one eye whilst the other twinkled under the moonlight like some teens sweet sixteen.

"Did Ivan send that to you? Must of come from the same place he gets his porn stash. Back when disco was as hot as paper backs. You know, it kind of makes me want to punch you in the face. Hard."

So, thats exactly what I do. I was going to shatter his nose, curling my fist I aim for his face. "Pay backs a bitch, asshole."

lionel punches lucky in the face (hopefully)

XAUr7kaCQfunarmed

unarmed

[mat]

Four.

The environment hummed low as Lucky hiked the mountainside. An arena meant to house twenty-four and could house hundreds fell silent. There were only four of them left. The bursts of wind that guided him to Rhys's hiding place ceased more with each cannon rippling the forcefield in the air. Lucky traveled across the mountain slowly. Every wound across his body swelled underneath their bandages, restless from the second he left the mines. But he slept the day away after Rhys, and there was no point wasting good energy licking his wounds.

The only intention Lucky had left was to win.

Lionel, Axyl, and Xov. Those three stood in his way after the anthem triumphed in the spotless sky. Poor Hal. Lucky gave the guy a moment of mourning, but nothing more. Their conversation on the beach offered enough closure to that chapter. His philosophy was to skip to the end of a book when he grew bored of it. Gunner died, Rita died, Xylia died, Hal died. He couldn't tie their stories off in his mind. The thought of doing that amid the Games scared him. He needed to see how it ended before he'd know how he felt about them. It just… made more sense in his head to compartmentalize now and unpack later when he could look at it from the eye of a winner.

Lucky marched down to the base of the mountain and into the forests. He hadn't seen this side of the arena since the avalanche and its subsequent thaw. The heavy trees brought respite from the sun. It was so cold for the first five days in the arena that his body still sweat underneath his cloak from the no more than moderate temperatures. The cool breeze under the shade of winding branches and leaves blew the cloak behind him. It was soothing when a stray breath of wind caught underneath the darkness and tickled his waistline. At the Game's start, he was fully bundled. By day eight, he had his cloak of darkness, a pair of jeans, and one pair of well-worn and well-torn sneakers.

Cardinals and blue jays chirped peacefully in their nests until a wave of gusts blew through the treetops in a creature's descent. The weaker branches tore as a mount plummeted onto the ground. Lucky's arm raised, guarded his face from the dirt and grass that scuffed meters from where he stood.

"Well, isn't this a fucking treat!" Saliva lurked at the back of Lucky's mouth as Lionel slipped from the back of the creature he rode. The expressions between their faces reversed from when they first met. Lucky's eye and body dragged while Lionel was chippier than he'd ever seen the boy. Maybe, of course, that difference was exacerbated by one's method of travel versus the other. "My dude, you look like shit. What happened to your face?" His palm slid across his face, wiping sweat after stopping for the first time in an hour.

Lionel got crafted with his words, talking about Lucky's new eyepatch and how it made him look like a stripper boy. The gems reflected off the thin treetop shadows. He stood, silent, taking the insults as they came. Poledancer, disco, straight out of Mr. Ivan's stash of dirty magazines. Words of a different shade to years ago, when the boys and girls first called him Patchy after returning to school from his injury.

"You know, it kind of makes me want to punch you in the face. Hard."

He did exactly that. Little Lionel, not so little anymore, let his fist fly straight across Lucky's face, between his mouth and the bottom of his nose.

"Mm," Lucky muttered, out of discomfort. He pinched the bridge of his nose while the crimson from his blood vessels began to trickle onto his fingers. "I helped you, didn't I? Kicked your ass out the door."

Taking on Lionel, sure, but the giant creature behind him? "Mouse?" Lucky was less confident on that front. He rubbed his knuckles, priming them for a shot back. His axe could wait. Some things were all the more satisfying felt.

"So rude, Lionel. It costs nothing to be kind." Lucky, the 96th Hunger Games's Mr. Congeniality, said with a wink. One swipe with his knuckles, that's all Lucky wanted. Then, he'd fight like people back home wanted him to. Lucky dropped the Grudge and Xylia's glaive off behind him.

Lucky's hand curled into a ball. "Don't worry– actually, don't be disappointed,– but I'm not going to spit on you again." He shot the brewing saliva into the dirt. "But, just for good ol' memories." His fist glided across Lionel's face.

[ lucky punches lionel back! ; unarmed ]
htg8XyCXt|unarmed
[ 5133 -- Bruised Left Forearm -- 2 damage ]

unarmed

[k!ah]

Man, that felt gooooood.

My first collides with his face and even though bone doesn't shatter, it was so fucking satisfying. My smirk grows and my body hums with emotion as I watch his face jerk to the right from the power of my strike. Seven whole days I had waited for this. I had dreamt about it, each morning waking and hoping that today would be the day that I ran into him again just so that I could feel his flesh breaking beneath the power of my punches, or my kicks, as I threw him around like the piece of trash he was. Only I didn't need Xylia fucking Fray to be standing right beside me, slapping Not so Pretty Lucky around in turns. No. I could take him on my own, not like they had back in the cabin where they had taken turns beating and breaking my bones as though they would turn them to nothing but dust.

Lucky groans in pain and my smirk turns into a smug grin of satisfaction. Yeah, I was going to tell my grandkids about this day. They day their grandfather punched Lucky Nachtnebel right in his smug, if not somewhat handsome, face. "I helped you, didn't I? Kicked your ass out the door. So rude, Lionel. It costs nothing to be kind."

I give the boy a flat look, my arms once again folding across my chest as one brow raised doubtfully at him. "Helped me?" I bark out on a dark laugh, "you and little Miss Faire Smutt Lover- did you know that about her? Thats besides the point, you two basically beat me to death and spat on me. 'Helped' might not be the word I'd use." My teeth snag my lower lip as I bite back about grin, "did it piss you off that you didn't break me that day? It was written all over that pretty face of yours that you wanted me to beg for mercy. Beg for my life. For something. Did it infuriate you that I didn't give you what you wanted? And being kind is so overrated," I say as my hands move to my hips.

"Don't worry– actually, don't be disappointed,– but I'm not going to spit on you again," he says as he spit at the dirt beside my feet at the same moment he lunges for me, his fist curling as he slams it into my face.

The impact causes my vision to blur for a moment and I feel my lip split as the stitches Felicity had so carefully placed burst and blood fills my mouth. I cradle my jaw, working it a few times as I spit blood onto the ground. He still hit hard, but not as hard as he had back when one strike would shatter bones. I give Lucky a mocking look of devastation as I release my grip on my face and press my hand to my chest, right over my heart. "Oh how you wound me Lucky Nachtnebel. How will I ever be able to sleep again knowing that you won't spit," the word comes out sharper than I intended, "on me again. How will I ever sleep at night knowing that the last time was it." I test my jaw a couple more times and roll my shoulders, giving him a flat look. "I think I will live," I say as I drop the act.

"You're not going to try and undress me this morning are you?" I say with a smirk as the memory of his hands slipping beneath my flannel jacket to smear blood and spit and other bodily fluids across my chest jumps out at me. I peel back my flannel jacket before tossing it to the ground staring down at my bloodied, torn undershirt. I poke at my chest where Lucky had 'marked' me. "This is where you left your claim," I look away from my chest, my eyes locking his his once again as my free hand slipped around the hilt of my sword. "Marked me like I was a possession, but I regret to inform you, no body owns me."

I pull my sword free from its sheath, the moonlight dancing off the blade still coated in Hal's blood.

"Last time we saw each other we promised that our next meeting would be fun. So," I say cheerily as I casually swing my blade around me as I take a step closer. "Lets have some fun," I purr, grinning widely as I swing aiming for the knee's. "I think its time you were on your's knees, I'm in the mood for some begging."

lionel attacks lucky

JKYlYuqZ7Fsword
Shallow Cut on Right Calf -- 3.5

sword

[mat]

Man, that felt good.

Lucky grinned wide, mimicking Lionel's. The redness across his knuckles revitalized him. The days past drained him, fighting over morals and how high or low someone's district was and maintaining some level of composure when the pillars around him detonated like landmines. Inflicting pain for the hell of it, for the entertainment factor. Relief buffed through his chest, even as Lionel refused to give him the satisfaction of bending to Lucky's self-righteous sarcasm.

"Kindness is so overrated."

So true.

Lionel faltered no more than Lucky had as they exchanged fists. There was a steely bravery that he didn't see back in the lodge. Lucky doubted himself for only a second, questioning if Lionel got stronger or he got weaker over a week.

When the boy recovered, the dramatics came. "Oh, how you wound me Lucky Nachtnebel! How will I ever be able to sleep again knowing that you won't spit on me again… I think I will live." Lucky's hands joined together to applaud him out of genuine amusement. Had Lionel considered Shakespearean acting? His flannel's the next piece to go in the show, his old mark dropping onto the ground. Lionel hadn't forgotten about the moment, and neither had he. Lucky could see now how the adrenaline washed over him and how unhinged he became. Monster to the poor, innocent Lionel.

No one confronted him with the hurt he caused before Day Three. Before Gunner pressed his lips against Lucky. In an agonizing kiss, Gun told him seven silent but haunting words: I love you, but you're killing me.

It was in his blood to hurt, and his punishment was the earthquake rumbling at his feet every time he took it a step too far, telling him he was too late to change it.

His mouth opened to speak, but Lionel continued.

"Last time we saw each other we promised that our next meeting would be fun."

The words took to the tip of his tongue and no further. If I could change it, I would.

Lionel's blade readied for the first swing, no more fisticuffs.

"I think its time you were on your knees, I'm in the mood for some begging."

Aftershock. Too late. Aftershock. You'll never be forgiven. Aftershock. Lucky Nachtnebel, the eternally bad guy.

He could beg and beg and beg for forgiveness, but it would never come. Would anyone forgive him?

The sword tore through his jeans. Lucky knelt on his right knee, doing exactly what Lionel asked. The pain tickled in comparison to yesterday's onslaught from Rhys.

"Please," he begged on one knee, feigning more hurt than what he felt. "Can you please stop the foreplay already?" Lucky thought of the look on Mr. Ivan's face (ironic, given the image Lionel burned of the man reading paperback smut) in the pool room and the Training Center when he divulged his plans to the Gamemakers. Impressed, proud, or so he hoped. The Gamemaker's sponsorship note crackled in the pocket of his jeans as Lucky shifted his elbow over his thigh, poised to strike. Mr. Ivan was perhaps the one person left on the planet who he believed would not hate him through all of this. How could he hurt him by doing him proud? Gaining his approval? By winning?

"Skip, skip, skip. Let's get to the good stuff." If Lionel wanted Lucky to be his bad guy, he'd do it. He'd be his undoing, too.

Still on one knee, Lucky swung. Blade against skin and blade against blade, the birds of the arena flocked to, in tune with the suspense.

[ lucky attacks lionel ; pike (axe) ]
IsfEUrumIgaxe
[ 11108 -- Shallow Cut on Right Hip -- 3.5 damage ]

axe

[k!ah]

He was on his knee, knelt before me as my sword kissed the back of his leg. There was something so fucking satirising about brining Lucky Nachtnebel to his knees. From the moment he had shattered my leg and proceeded to punch me in the face followed by a swift kick to the gut, I had wanted nothing more than to see him knocked from his high horse. To see him broken and bleeding- but it was more than that. I wanted him to feel as insignificant and small as he had been so desperate for me to feel.

I wanted to break him and that scared the shit out of me more than I wanted to admit because it was exactly like him, my father. And I resented the thought of myself becoming anything like him. The thought itself was enough to have my stomach churn and my fists clench.

"Please," he begs, dragging me from my thoughts. My lips curl in disgust at the word as I look down at him. Weak. He was so fucking weak- "Can you please stop the foreplay already? Skip, skip, skip. Let's get to the good stuff." Disgust turns to amusement and my lip hooks back into a grin. As much as I hated it, Pretty Boy Lucky had a sense of humour, and it pissed me off because as much as I wanted to punch him in the face and absolutely destroy him, I also wanted to continue on with this foreplay. Unlike Hal, who was all doom and gloom and so fucking serious, Lucky knew how to banter. And despite myself, I was having fun. 

Lucky wastes no time in swiping up his axe, swinging at me from his position of his knees, like a knight before his king. I jump back out of his reach, his blade nicking my lip with enough bite to have a small hiss of pain to escape me. Dick, I groan inwardly as I lightly press my hand to the wound before closing the distance between us once again.

"But the foreplay is the fun part," I whine dramatically at him, rolling my eyes. "You must be a real hit with the ladies and gents if you cant handle a little foreplay before the fun." I shake my head at him, clicking my tongue in mock disappointment. I lean in close to Lucky, bringing my mouth close to his ear. "Rumour has it that your pal Ivan is a little like that. Heard that he is quite the disappointment between the sheets, and between us ladies, I kind of think there might be some truth to the whispers." I whisper conspiratorially before I pull back with a smirk. "Also heard the guy has some crazy ass kinks, like borderline scary shit that guy is into."

Readjusting my grip on my sword I fix my gaze on his, "but I digress, and this isn't about Ivan. This is about us- awww that sounds cute! Us!" I run my tongue across my lower lip as I study him, "okay, lets skip to the good part. Should I cut off your head? or slit your throat?" I ask, but dont wait for a response as I angle my sword for his neck.

lionel attacks lucky

uMNekV7SqQsword
cute lil 3.5

sword

[mat]

Lucky had him going for a second. As if a swipe across the back of his thigh would be enough to get him begging for mercy. Lionel backed off from the swing of his axe, the blow at eye level, the weak strike for weak strike. The Hunger Games were much more nuanced than David launching a rock at Goliath through his slingshot. Eight days in and an agonizing chase through the mines made Lucky wiser to it, and the disappointment on Lionel's end made it a lesson quickly handed down.

"But the foreplay is the fun part," the coyness in each of their voices dragged past the cannon that echoed by them midair. Three. "You must be a real hit with the ladies and gents if you can't handle a little foreplay before the fun." Odin, the way Lionel shot sarcastic insults at Lucky infuriated him. He thought about spitting back at him right then and there: foreplay's only fun when the other half isn't a bore and a freak.

Lionel came up to his ear, whispering more secrets about Mr. Ivan's struggles in bed. Back in the Training Center, Xylia mentioned something about Ivan Korsch's smut stash with Lionel in passing, but Lucky always thought she was joking. His eye shifted upward toward the sky– do you hear that, Ivan? Smite him with your magic powers. The boy's old breath faded away as Lucky rose from his position. "But I digress, this isn't about Ivan. This is about us– aw, cute! Us"! He played along, full grin and all as Lionel readied another swing.

He could hear Eunice's pen scratching paper as she began her enemies-to-lovers fan fiction. The odds of this camaraderie turning into a hateful makeout session grew by the second. Obnoxious, gross. The thought made him want to hurl, so his eye closed, and he imagined Rita or Gun on the page instead. Better.

Before Lucky could answer as to where Lionel should aim, his sword struck his collar, etching light across his bone. "Anywhere–" One hand clutched a low branch to keep balance while the other struck over his heart, pledging to the bit one last time. "–anywhere but my heart, Lionel!"

It cracked night after night, and the last thing Lucky could stomach in death was Lionel Estrada stamping it out.

Lucky released the tree branch, swinging it back into position. He stood tall once more ahead of Lionel. "All this talk of foreplay and kinks… I'm starting to think you're a freaky dude…" His lips hung open, wondering just how he could get under Lionel's skin. "I'm sure your family's very proud of that," Lucky said dryly. Good or bad, family triggered something in everyone.

His axe swept in toward Lionel.

Lucky leaned in after. "Don't worry, I'm proud of you." It was his turn to whisper, mostly in earnest if Lionel wanted to believe him. Proud of him, for everything. Hated him, deeply at this very moment, but proud. "We're all a bit messed up," Lucky confessed.

The fumed bloodlust in his eye and his fingertips made that obvious.

[ lucky attacks lionel ; pike (axe) ]
MvJIcLgfbfaxe
[ 11054 -- Shallow Cut on Left Bicep -- 3.5 damage ]

axe

[k!ah]

A thin line of blood forms on the spot just below his neck. It was barely a scratch, but it had been so close to the jugular that it made my heart leap. Yesterday I had told Hal that I had sliced Marceline pretty little neck open and watched as she choked on her own blood. It had been a lie, of course, so I wasn't really sure just how messy of a death a slit throat might be. Or how painful. I'd imagined it would be a very messy, agonising way to go.

I watch that spot on his neck for a moment longer before Lucky drew my attention as he embraced the dramatics just as keenly as I had. Hand pressed against his heart he looked up at me with wide pleading eyes that were as fake as that bejewelled monstrosity on his face. Man, Ivan either hated Lucky, or had no idea just how hideous the thing was or thought the gesture was, I don't know, sweet? Personally, it screamed creep to me.

Suddenly Lucky was pulling himself to his feet, his hulking body towering over me as he looked down at me from his full height. What the fuck did they feed the kids back in four? Because this man was huge. His bicep was as large as my thigh, and that was saying something because I never skipped leg day. "All this talk of foreplay and kinks… I'm starting to think you're a freaky dude…" I grin up at him, fingers tightening ever so slightly on the hilt of my blade just enough to know that I could wield it if I needed. "I'm sure your family's very proud of that," my grin falters for a moment, and I swallow hard, forcing the cocky grin to remain on my lips.

His words made my mouth feel dry, and I hated the way that deep down I wished for it to be true. For the last few weeks I had been determined to prove to myself and the world that I couldn't give two flying fucks about what my father thought of me... But when you spend your whole life with one goal cemented into your dreams, it takes more than a few weeks to fully break free of the shackles that had held you down for the last sixteen years.

But I refused to allow Lucky to see any of those emotions.

Lucky leans forward, whispering into my ear as I forced that shit eating grin to remain on my lips. "Don't worry, I'm proud of you. We're all a bit messed up." Before I could say anything he lunges at me, his axe barely touching me as I press my hand into his arm, stopping the attack before it turned into something more serious.

My fingers wrap around his forearm, and I hold him in place for a moment, "yeah, you could say I get a little freaky in the sheets." My grin grows as I give him a long, intentional look with just enough heat in it to make him squirm uncomfortably. "You interested, Nachtnebel?" I taunt, staring at his mouth for a moment before dragging my eyes back to his.

"And I dont give a flying fuck about impressing my family, or you for that matter." I pause, my grin turning into something a little wilder and out of control. "And I think I am a little more that a bit messed up. And if you were being honest with yourself, I think you would find that you too would agree with me. We're both a fucking mess. Don't lie to yourself, Nachtnebel."

lionel attacks lucky

cu385BHY_|sword
cute lil Severed Right Ear -- 8.0 damage +1 rivalry 🥰

sword

[mat]

A set of fingers collapsed around Lucky's arm, dragging his axe away from Lionel's body. The muscles in his body tightened as he pulled back, and Lionel stuck with him. They took each other on, shot for shot. He waited for an opening; the right moment and its perfect angle were waiting, and Lucky just had to wait for Lionel to reveal it.

"Yeah, you could say I get a little freaky in the sheets." Lionel's stare lingered just below his lips. Lucky's mind wandered, fathoming– quite regrettably– about just what Lionel meant by freaky when he hadn't seriously considered the kid to have been in the sheets ever. Lucky hadn't either until his birthday afterparty with Rita, to be fair, and he wasn't sure if he could count that entirely if he was just along for the ride. But little Lionel? "You interested, Nachtnebel?"

Lucky shook his head swiftly. Heck no. Gross.

Lionel held his grip, and Lucky didn't back away. His head began to feel light again with all the new cuts and scratches across his body. What was the point of the hours spent last night closing all his wounds if the next day, they were all going to twist open again? Noble as a lion, the boy from Five said he didn't need to impress anyone. Lucky's lip dropped again at Lionel's defense. Did he realize there was some truth behind his compliment? Or were his words, truth or lies, treated as hostility forever more?

His grip on Lucky's arm tightened. The steady beat from his heart grew faster and harder as the grit behind Lionel's words hardened. You're messed up. I'm messed up. Let's not deny it.

Lucky ducked from Lionel's incoming arm. His sword clipped the back of his ear, drawing blood like the end of an injection. It'd be fine.

"Everyone keeps telling me that, Lionel. That I'm so messed up." Harley, Juno, Xov. They all saw him as a boy too far gone and trying to drag everyone else down with him. Perhaps she'd still be here if he had taken their advice and kept a distance from Rita instead of clinging to her to protect himself from loss after loss. "People tell you something enough times and you'll start to believe it's true." Lucky slid his arm up and out of Lionel's grip. He took three steps back and let a wide smile open. "I need people to start telling me I'm a stud again…"

He paused, letting the wind catch up again. "Lucky… you're a stud," he spoke of himself. "It's always good to start with some positive self… aforementions."

Lucky pointed at Lionel. "You next! What's your self aforemention?" Completely oblivious to that fact that he used the wrong word, Lucky moved forward and swung.

You're a god, he thought, affirmatively.

[ lucky attacks lionel ; pike (axe) ]
oULiKjFxUFaxe
[ dmg ]

–

[ self defense ; day 8 ]
3-8

axe·3-8·axe·3-8

[k!ah]

I let go of his arm, shoving him back as I bring my sword up, swinging it in a wide arch. It was a wild and somewhat frantic strike, messy and uncontrolled. Lucky easily evades the worst of it and I pout at him, sighing loudly as though this whole exchange was starting to bore me. But I'd be lying if I said that, because this fight, this confrontation was igniting me. It made me forget about Felicity and the way her body had been broken and bloodied on that sandy beach. It made me forget about the fact that there was less than a handful of tributes that stood between me and living. And home. A thought that should be exciting, but was just confusing as fuck because I had no idea where, or what, home really was.

Some stupid, naive part of myself had thought for a moment that where Felicity was was home. And that was so fucking pathetic, because in that moment I had known that that home was death and a shallow grave for both of us. But maybe, just maybe they might have buried our bodies in nameless graves side by side and I would have then forever been by her side, even if it was just in death. And then maybe in another lifetime we would cross that bridge and meet again, only this time I would get to show her every part of me, and she would allow me to break down her walls until there was no part of her that was a mystery. And maybe then I would have known what it felt like to be loved unconditionally.

Even if it was just for a little while.

So I allow this confrontation to consume me until everything else was just background noise and it was just Lucky and me and nothing else and I take full advantage of it, hungrily eating up the scraps that Lucky dangles before me.

"Everyone keeps telling me that, Lionel. That I'm so messed up," Lucky says as he pushes himself out of my hold, moving a few steps back to put some distance between us. "People tell you something enough times and you'll start to believe it's true." His smile is wide, but there falseness behind it that I'm not even sure he realises is there. He hated it. Hated that people kept spitting the truth at him because deep down he knew that the words that seemed to be laced with poison and venom were coated with nothing but reality, and I didnt think he was ready to accept that.

Lucky continues speaking, reminiscing about the times people used to call him a stud, as though the thought enough would be able to wash away the truth of his new reality. "It's always good to start with some positive self… aforementions."

Self... Aforementions?

"You next! What's your self aforemention?"

I blink at him for a moment, before realisation tumbles into me a little slower than it should have. But I guess blood loss, physical and mental exhaustion and a lack of sleep was going to do that to a kid. "Aforemention... I don't have any aforementions... But if you mean affirmations, mine would be: thats a you problem, not a me problem." Yeah I totally used that wrong but it seemed like kids from four were all muscle no brawn so I was feeling pretty safe.

"You know what else if a you problem, Stud?" I ask as I readjust my grip on my sword. "That fucking bejewlled strap of horror on your face." I look up at the sky as though if I looked hard enough into the darkness I might see Ivan Korsch glaring down at me in a sequinned vest and slicked bak hair. "Mr. Ivan, if you have time to deliver Pretty boy Lucky here, that creepy as fuck eye patch, don't be an asshole and share some of with the rest of us! Wouldn't want to be caught picking favs with your tributes, now would you. Could be bad for business."

lionel attacks lucky

EdOuVPwcygsword
cute lil 3.5

sword

[mat]

His head cocked slightly to the left as Lionel blinked away at his question. "Aforemention…" he spoke as if the question was on quantum mechanics and physics, puzzled. Was it that hard for him to say something nice about himse- Oh.

Affirmations. Right. Not aforementions. Lucky blushed as he was corrected. That's a you problem, not a me problem. Huh? Lucky rolled his eye as Lionel continued on, their footsteps burying into the dirt as they sunk into the fight and soon one of their graves.

"You know what else is a you problem, stud? That fucking bejeweled strap of horror on your face." In the shine of his axe, the colors shimmered: amethyst, peridot, ruby. Each of the gems sparkled as Lionel went on about how a Gamemaker sponsoring a tribute was back for the Games's optics. Did he forget? Lucky pulled his original patch, snapped in two from Rhys's sword, and dangled it ahead of Lionel as he swung across Lucky's side.

"The first one broke," he held it, backing away from Lionel as he recharged whatever energy was left in the tank. "I couldn't put it back together." The eyepatch, which had become a piece of him since he was fifteen, stayed with him wherever he went. At home, Lucky cleaned it religiously, and his mother would sew any rips or tears. Defeated, he stuffed it back into his pockets. "Mr. Ivan said the skin where my eye used to be was an eye sore, so he gave me a new one." His eyepatch pushed against crinkled paper as Lucky stepped forward again.

Lucky would take as much heat as he had to– he deserved it, anyway. But Mr. Ivan, who did more than he knew to make him feel comfortable and respected in the Training Center? No, he couldn't just let that fly. "Haven't gotten many sponsors, Lionel? That stinks. Have you tried… being likeable?" It hurt him to say as much, because with every second that passed in the fight, he was growing to like Lionel more and more. Okay– like may not be the right word– but appreciate.

"I don't think Mr. Ivan liked me at first. Made me his personal janitor after the B-Day Bash. But he came around, everyone does."

Lucky aimed high this time, ripping a swing toward Lionel's head.

If he didn't come to on his own, Lucky would bend and break him to force his hand.

[ lucky attacks lionel ; pike (axe) ]
Y4LgUYdT_paxe
[ 11085 -- Severed Right Calf at Knee
9.0 damage + 1.0 Strength ]

axe

[k!ah]

Lucky fishes around in his pocket for a moment before he pulls out an old, crusty looking strap of leather that looked like it carried a strong enough odour that would have had my lip curling in distaste. "The first one broke. I couldn't put it back together." I reel away from him a little as I make a show of pinching my nose and looking at the scrap of material in disgust.

"Put that thing away, Stud!" I grumble, dramatically waving my beneath my nose as though the stench of the thing was overwhelming. "That shit is nasty."

Lucky shoves it back into his pocket, with a heavy shrug that had me wondering if that scrap of cloth meant more to him than he was letting on. My eyes narrow on him for a moment before being drawn to the pocket that housed the small valuable rag.

Lucky continues talking, but his words bounce off me uselessly as my full focus latches onto the rag that meant more to him that he was willing to admit and in that moment I knew that I had to take it.

I wanted to take it.

I wanted to see him explode and lose his shit at the thought of me taking something of his.

"... Have you tried… being likeable?"

Tearing my eyes away from his pocket I blink at him a few times, "huh? What?" I say distractedly as I wave him off dismissively, "being likeable is also over rated." He says something else, shifting position so that when he brought his axe down, it was angled with enough force that it would have sliced my leg clean from my body and wouldn't that have just been the icing on the cake.

I take advantage of the moment though, stumbling towards Lucky until my body crashed into his and his blade bounced almost harmlessly off my jeans. For a moment things got messy as I made a show of pushing the other boy away from me as I struggled to find my footing. in the mess of limbs and curses I casually slip my hand into the pocket of his pants, fishing out the scrap of fabric.

Quickly I push away from him, revealing to Lucky his torn eyepatch in my bloodied hands. "I think I will keep this," I say to him with a wide grin as I slip the rag into my own pocket before patting it possessively.

"Thanks."

lionel attacks lucky

RGhwMKYcQcsword
cute lil 4

sd

3-8

sword·3-8

[mat]

"Being likable is also underrated."

That was where they diverged. It took guts from the lion to reject the rest of its pride. It went against all odds, and against what Lucky adopted as his strategy, but for Lionel, it worked. It puzzled Lucky. The thought of one person disliking him, like Harley in the mines, made his head spin. Why? Why didn't they like him?

For years, the question was what was wrong with them?

The Hunger Games spelled him, a crystal ball showed him the truth: what was wrong with him?

Lionel lunged for him mid-thought, pouncing at the opportunity. He thought the boy was about to go in for another swing. His right fist curled, ready to go back to hand-to-hand, but Lionel dug in. Into the pocket of his pants. Lucky squirmed backward, trying to shake him off and away. What the heck was he…

In his hands was Lucky's leather eyepatch, torn and tattered and filled with his blood. "I think I will keep this" The leather slipped into Lionel's pocket, and just like that, it was his. "Thanks."

Lucky buried his courtesy in his stillness. His knees wavered where he stood. Again. It's happening again. The jewels strapped across his face shimmered, he could see them in the grey and hazel of Lionel's eyes. He stood, unprotected.

"Oh, Lionel."

It took every strand of being to remain decent. The expression on his face dropped. No more amusement. Anger and frustration tingled at his fingertips.

"Ohh… oh Lionel."

Stay calm. Stay composed. Don't disappoint him.

The sound of Gunner's blade dragging across the shotgun came back to him in a flash of anger. Each line was etched into the sawed-off, driving Lucky mad on the other side of the lodge. The Grudge. He couldn't follow through on killing a boy he demoralized a week ago.
Gun was poking fun at him again from the other side. Weak, that was what Gunner would tell him he was for letting a dirty freak like Lionel get away with this.

"When I kill you…" 'when' he said as if it was any guarantee. "Ohhhh Lionel, when I kill you. They're gonna have to cut every single camera and microphone in this whole forest. It's gonna be that bad, that painful, that slow. It's gonna… it's gonna be priceless."

Lucky eyed down every inch of him. Where to start?

"You want the messed up Lucky? Fine. Have him."

[ lucky attacks lionel ; pike (axe) ]
da4A5sTvcyaxe
[ 11129 -- Shallow Cut on Right Calf -- 3.5 damage ]

axe

[k!ah]

Fire burned in his eyes and lips that'd been tilted up in amusement pressed into a hard solid line as Lucky Nachtnebel glared at me with a hatred that should have had me running in the opposite direction. So why did I feel my blood begin to thrum with the thrill of a chase that only ended one way: with one of us dead? There was a hardness in his jaw that reminded me of my father, and it should have made me squirm with discomfort. But I felt the urge to push him further, to watch him snap in a way that my father never had.

Maybe it was my screwed up way of getting revenge on my father, just another way of me showing my rebellion against him and maybe it had nothing to do with the boy in front of me at all. Well... That was not quite true. It did have a little to do with Lucky himself, after all the boy had basically beat the shit out of me for no better reason than because he wanted to show his dominance and because he was told too. Because it was expected of him. And because of him I felt myself begin to slip that very first time, slip into the creature that I had begun to embrace as the week unfolded. And maybe that was something I should be thanking him for because I felt so damned free- even if my life was currently being held hostage.

I could see it, the moment something inside of him snapped, unleashing the beast within. and I almost purred with content as I watched him turn as cold as ice. Thats it, Lucky Nachtnebel, let the real you out. Come play with me. "Oh, Lionel," he all but growled and I gained at him, my hand possessively placed over the pocket that held the last tether to his leash.

"Oh Luckyyy," I croon, smiling wickedly at him as I felt my heart beat pick up its pace.

"Ohh… oh Lionel." He was fighting, I could see it, the need to stay calm, to beat the beast within him warred internally and I waited, patiently, to see who would win. Hoping that it would not be him, but the thing that lurked beneath. "When I kill you…" He was close, so very close to fully letting go. I could see it. Taste it, almost. "Ohhhh Lionel, when I kill you. They're gonna have to cut every single camera and microphone in this whole forest. It's gonna be that bad, that painful, that slow. It's gonna… it's gonna be priceless."

And there he was.

His eyes travel across my body as though he was looking for the spot that would make me scream the loudest. And if Lucky expected me to shrink away from the threat, to run and hide or to beg for forgiveness... He had something else coming for him.

"When you kill me, hmm?" I say with a raise brow, my amused eyes meeting his furious, blood thirsty ones. "Bring it on, pretty boy. Better make sure that you are true to your words, otherwise Ivan might drop you so quick for the next pretty thing to be dropped into his lap." I taunt as I spread my arms wide for him, welcoming and encouraging him to come get me. "Come. Get. Me. I'd hate to disappoint."

lionel attacks lucky

7VZEF9VAxnsword
cute lil 3.5 SHOCKED

sword

[mat]

The boy's words grated on him. Lionel was not afraid of Lucky. His expression brightened with every threat he spoke, no matter how grotesque or painful it sounded. Lucky's words made him burn inside, but the little lion continued to make a joke out of it. Out of him.

"Bring it on, pretty boy. Better make sure that you are true to your words, otherwise Ivan might drop you so quick for the next pretty thing to be dropped into his lap.'

Why was he so hellbent on attaching Lucky to Mr. Ivan? All he gave the boy was an eyepatch to replace his old one. To protect him, to protect everyone from feeling uncomfortable. Lionel's arms opened wide, come get me. The bullfighter against the bull in the ring, Lucky charged him, shouldering LIonel as he recklessly tackled him to the ground. He fell, too, onto the sharp grass. It stung every open wound across his body, but the feeling of grabbing Lionel and hurting him again was too good to pass up.

"You are just… the worst." Lucky spit at the ground beside them. He wasn't thinking now, the words fell through as he slammed the earth beneath. "You are a weasely, low-life, poor freak. You know why I did what I did? Because nobody was gonna stop me! Not you, not Xylia, not the friends you don't have."

Lucky picked himself up from the ground, wiping the green brush off his arms and white shirt. "I was starting to think I got carried away back there, but looking at you now…" His axe dangled at rest. "Now… I just want to finish what I started with you."

He let himself slip. Before, he had a way of maneuvering situations, pestering the other tributes into thinking he was obnoxious and a white-collar boy who treated everyone around him as an oversight. Lucky's eye observed them all. They were intricate pieces of the puzzle, his puzzle, waiting to be exploited.

Lucky swung his axe at Lionel from below, yelling as he played the bull, ramming and ramming and ramming, bloodied as he was. "Are you gonna stop me, little Lionel?"

"Huh?!"

[ lucky attacks lionel ; pike (axe) ]
oYUO0M1xMNaxe
[ 11050 -- Shallow Cut on Right Bicep -- 3.5 damage ]

–

[ light step on attack 1130 ]
1-10
[ fail ]

axe·1-10

[k!ah]

The words hit the target harder than my blade, and I watch in utter satisfaction as the boy before me explodes. He charges for me and despite myself I couldn't help but flinch ever so slightly at the sight of the bloodied solid wall of muscle that crashes into my body with a force that knocked the air from my lungs. we hit the ground hard and for a moment I couldn't breathe as my lungs fought to catch up with my throat as I gasped for air.

Lucky straddled me glaring down at me with a hatred that might of had a batter person cowering, but I was not a good person and instead, as I lay beneath him gasping for breath, I flash him one of my iconic shit eating grins that I knew would have him seeing red. "You keep looking at me like that and I think we might have a-"

"You are just… the worst," he spits viciously as he slams me harder into the earth beneath us as I gasp, the weight of his body against my chest enough to make me feel as though I was choking.

"Is that the best you've got," I bite back, managing to get my arms between us and shoving him back enough for breathing to come easier. "I'm the worst? Dude thats fucking weak. Piss poor effort."

"You are a weasely, low-life, poor freak."

A couple lies and a truth. I was neither a low life or poor. A freak though? Yeah, Lucky might not have been wrong there. I was loaded, I was fucking Lionel Estrada, and I may be a damned weasel, but I was far from poor. "You know why I did what I did? Because nobody was gonna stop me! Not you, not Xylia, not the friends you don't have."

Lucky was treading down the wrong street of he thought he could slip under my skin with insults about my lack of friends. I wasn't a fool. I knew that the people who surrounded me back home with words of love and touches of affection only wanted me for one reason. I knew that the flirty little smiles and the heated hidden touches Lidia and I shared were fuelled by what being with an Estrada could offer her. I knew that Thomas fucking Brady only ever invited me to his parties because his father needed mine for the influence and protection the Estrada name provided.

"Friends?" I laugh in his face, squirming beneath him as I tried to shove him off once again. "You think that insulting my lack of friends hurts me?" I give him a tired look, one that was laced with traces of boredom as I stop my struggle from beneath him.

But suddenly he pushes himself off of me, standing above me with his weapon raised. "I was starting to think I got carried away back there, but looking at you now… Now… I just want to finish what I started with you." Lucky moves, slicing his axe through the air as he aims for my throat. "Are you gonna stop me, little Lionel?"

I roll into the dirt, escaping his attack before I pull myself to my feet, putting a little distance between us. my body ached and exhaustion weighed heavily on my shoulders as each strike of lucky's blade ate away energy, littering the dirt beneath us with blood.

"Finish what you started?" I scoff as I catch my breathe, my lips tipping up at the corners in amusement. "You are delusional if you think that this," I gesture between the two of us with my blood stained sword, "is ending with me dead. Open your eyes-" I choke on a laugh at my mistake. "Sorry, eye. You're losing."

Licking my lips slightly I flex my fingers on the hilt of my sword. "Pull your head out of you ass, Nachtnebel. If you're going to play the role of the villain you really need to get your shit together because right now you just look like a clown."

lionel attacks lucky

QiYgDmJcoosword
cute lil 4.5

sword