what lies beneath | 96th finale

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

"Where is Korsch?" Hades asked, dropping his coat onto the avox whose job is to put it away for him.

"Called in sick."

He smirked.

"Very well. Everyone is replaceable. Astrid, Giselle, would the two of you like to come sit up here with Maryn and I for a front row view?" He looked down at his watch. "The finalists should be arriving any minute now."

Upon entering the Cornucopia, the tributes will immediately notice that the fire which was burning so brightly during the bloodbath on their first day has been extinguished, revealing what hid beneath the flames for all to see, which appears to be an elevator. After stepping inside, the tributes will see that that there is only one button: a downward-facing arrow. They'll remember those moments when they were rising into the arena on their plates, remember the huge pitch-black cavernous space that was below the the lodge, maybe they even originally wondered what could be hiding there. Perhaps they thought it was some sort of storage for the mutts, or they conspired to think the gamemakers were quietly running the games from right below their noses. Whatever the thought may have been, it likely wasn't what turns out to be the truth.

As the elevator doors open with a satisfying ding, the tributes will step out and see a full-scale battle coliseum waiting for them. Floodlights encircle the area, bathing it in harsh lighting. From every angle, cameras are safely hidden behind clear plexiglass sheets. There are painted lines on the floors and there, around the perimeter, are the clear tubes the tributes rose up into the arena in over a week ago. Just out of the boundaries, at exactly half court, is an announcer's table. And sitting behind it are gamemakers Hades Lochlan and Maryn Hale. Notably, Ivan Korsch is not present. In his place sit two young women, one an unknown face with large curious eyes and even larger curly dark hair. The other was the easily recognizable face of Astrid Zane.

As the tributes make eye contact with them, they'll notice a clear sheen glimmering in front of them. Plexiglass may have been enough for the cameras, but a full-scale forcefield seemed more appropriate for the gamemakers.

Hades stands, addressing the final two.

"Tributes! Welcome to the final two! The gamemakers have enjoyed working with you oh so much, but of course all good things must come to an end. To those of you at home: be sure to place your bets now while you still can. To our finalists: good luck to you both. One of you is about to make history. The other is about to become history. But know that both of you have served the Capitol well. Now, let's end this with an exciting show, shall we? Without further ado, everyone, we give you the 96th Finale!"

❄️ 🏔️ ☀️ 🌧️

Welcome to the finale, tributes! Congratulations on making it this far. You may take the time you need to finish this fight, but please be mindful of the site's schedule!^^

Tribute Information:

D5 Lionel Estrada - 0 damage
- Rivalry

D12 Xov Thao - 0 damage
- Light Step

Good luck to you both, and may the odds be ever in your favor!

[august vance d7b [Bella]]

Nobody had taught Xov the amount of effort it took to kill someone quickly, the precise pressure that called every muscle to careful attention. Somehow, like second nature, she had thought to press her hip bone into the hilt of her glaive as it broke through Axyl’s ribs, and the dull ache left in her side marked her guilt as sure as the cannon sound. Afterwards she wondered how her body had learned to kill without her knowing, but then again, it didn’t quite feel like her body anymore.

She didn’t know how to end someone’s life honorably, only sensed that it was better to meet Axyl’s eyes as the light faded, bearing witness to the heaviness of grief that she could see within them, his broad shoulders finally relaxing under the weight of his sorrow. She recognized that gaze; it was like looking in a mirror.

Had he seen it too? Would she be forgiven?

”I’m so sorry,” Xov whispered, throat closing on the last syllable as she realized she hadn’t even learned his last name. The air became scarce and she crumpled forward over him, heavy sobs seizing her shoulders, emptying her body.

For at least one person in the world, she had been only evil–breaking his leg, then stabbing him in the heart–and for some reason, this felt even worse. These were actions the Capitol had made with her hands; they weren’t her, but also, horribly, they were. How could she honor the memory of someone she knew nothing about? At least with Maggie, she had something she could say thank you for.

A breeze caught her uneven hair, blew through her like hollowed bone, erasing the sounds of sorrow her throat made. It took her breath away like it would a baby, and she froze there for a second, turning each hand over in front of her, squinting at the awful amount of blood that had burst from Axyl’s chest, flowing down to her wrists. This marked the second time she’d soiled her hands with someone else’s blood. She knew she needed to do it one more time, but how could she? When every move she made caused so much damage?

Who knew how long she knelt there–seconds, weeks, months, eons. Swollen brown eyes, tear-clouded and numb, walked away on legs that felt like someone else’s. Toward the horizon, which seemed like the closest thing to home, but was still an infinity’s distance.

Someone washed her hands and face in a stream, the cool water soaking her sleeves and carrying the blood away. They removed her clothes to wash and hang them on a rock to dry in the setting sun. They slicked her hair back against her scalp, pulled her knees up to her chin to plant small warm kisses on the knobby joints.

Maybe that was what they meant when they said her loved ones would always be there. That some part of them stayed to take care of you when you couldn’t remember how.

After, she felt enough like herself to drink water and lay down, if not to rest.

In another lifetime, Marik had told her: "You have to find what you're fighting for and hold onto it because that's what will keep you going." So her final night in the arena, Xov lay awake dreaming of home in full color.

If she could just manifest an image vivid enough, she thought maybe she could transport herself back there, alive or dead. ”Take me home,” she whispered to the sky.

In her mind’s eye she mounted the concrete steps to the kitchen, and could smell the acrid, syrupy smoke of frankincense and firewood, the starchy steam of pasta boiling on the stove. She tasted the maple, sweet potato, bitter dandelion greens, licorice-sticky sassafras tea. The constant babbling of the river behind their house, muted by the gentle hush of the forest’s branches. The coo of the doves, mourning something, while mockingbirds flicked their grey and white tails at the sun.

Right about now, the azaleas would open their magenta trumpets, and she and her siblings would pluck the flowers from their stems to the suck on the subtle-sweet nectar. She could imagine the soft coolness of grass under her bare feet, and the smell of lilacs she could never have enough of.

But what she missed the most was the mud squishing between her toes, mud that was so black and smooth you could almost scoop and eat it like chocolate ice cream. Earth so good it gave without much asking. Niam used to brag that you could throw an apple over your shoulder and it would grow an orchard. This was the rich soil her ancestors had traveled so far to settle on in the days before the Capitol took to stealing Twelve’s children.

What would they think now that no place was safe?

When she imagined growing old, it had always been in their little hollow by the river. The cycle of life couldn’t be a cycle without family close by, carving out a path in front, clarified by familiar rituals of birth, marriage, and death. Later on, her children would become the ones who took care of her and called her spirit home after death.

Now, she couldn’t even picture what all of that meant. It was like waiting to go onstage in a play without having memorized any of the lines. Her path to that future had become labyrinthine, entry and exit both invisible. How could she live by that river when the sound of water reminded her of Marcus and Juno? When the morning glory vines had watched what she did to Maggie? And now when she looked down at the grass and mud, she would always think of the shape of Axyl’s body as it lay broken, slowly emptying, in front of her.

”I don’t know how to get back there,” she confessed, her throat tightening around the words. ”Please show me what you want from me now.”

Was that what they all died for? Not just those she had killed, and would kill, but all the others? So she could go back to running around barefoot, picking herbs and thinking about marriage?

Shame pulled her eyes closed, pushing hot tears onto her cheeks.

When the anthem played, she was surprised to see Lucky’s face in the sky with Axyl’s. She did the math; it was just her and Lionel left. The scar on her cheek bristled at the phantom memory of the last time he’d hurt her, but she felt no desire for revenge.

She had a dream that he made fun of her haircut.

—

In the morning, she was convinced the Gamemakers were trying to bring her worst nightmare to life. The rain came down in drops as hard as crabapples, forming puddles the size of ponds that threatened to swallow her up. Her clothes hanging on the rock were wet again, and she struggled to pull them over her limbs before grabbing her pack and climbing onto Go-go’s back, pulling Gus along by the scruff of his neck. ”We need to find high ground!!” she yelled, too harshly maybe, because the bear had already broken into a gallop towards the center of the arena.

It became clear that the hunter’s lodge was the only shelter, an island in a quickly rising sea. Aside from the obvious geographic advantage, there was a glowing beacon in the sky that told her she had come to the right place.

”You gotta be kidding me,” she muttered.

Without thinking, she ducked her head as she entered the wooden structure, as if the ghosts were silently reminding her to bow to the dead. No sign of Maggie remained except for a patch of yellow flowers that blossomed in a spot only Xov would notice, her eyes drawn there by the gravity of memory.

She noticed the elevator after a moment, and dutifully stepped onto the platform, descending into darkness. No elevator music, just sterile silence.

When the doors opened to a full-scale coliseum, she almost rolled her eyes at the Gamemakers sitting courtside like basketball commentators. Were they out of ideas? They chose this setting over a thunderstorm? It was getting to be exhausting. Squinting under the sudden change in lighting, Xov's footfalls reverberated in the cavernous room as she took her place at the center, a bit disoriented.

Lionel wasn’t there yet. She glanced at the Gamemakers, trying to decide if this was all part of their setup. Their expressions gave nothing away.

She waited, listening intently to the pounding of her own heartbeat. Unsettling percussion.

Pum-tum-tum-ta-Pum.

And waited.

After a while she began to wonder if he had drowned already, but there was no cannon. Maybe he was trying to make her legs tired. She squatted on her heels, resting her chin on her arms.

When he emerged from the elevator, soaking wet, she sprung to her feet, pausing for Hades' speech but mostly ignoring it. For some reason, such a blatant reminder that they were on TV was all the more irritating, and now that she had followed a rat-maze for them to get here, she thought she would have much preferred the soggy lodge above them, where at least there were flowers blooming. But then, she thought they were probably trying to ensure she couldn't run.

”Hi Lionel,” she said, her voice echoing between the concrete walls. ”Nice of you to show up fashionably late. I always knew you were a gentleman.”

She approached him cautiously, one hand holding her glaive to the side, the other one clenching into a fist behind her back, as if holding back her nervousness with the string of a curtain. Her shoulders tightened with the muscle-memory of those last few movements that could bring her home if she did them just right. But the thought of making Lionel look like Maggie or Axyl, his blood covering this floor that looked like a school gymnasium, made her skin crawl.

She tried for a smile, but her lips quivered at the corners. ”I thought they were planning a wet t-shirt contest for us up there. Sad you won’t even have a chance now.” Her voice was shaking. She held her breath, then let it go as she met Lionel’s eyes. But as soon as she did, she thought about the last time she’d seen him, right after the Bloodbath, all dirty and battered-up from Lucky’s beating.

”I never did take Lucky’s other eye out for you. You might need to work on your throwing advice.”

She watched the floor where the jokes fell between them, just like the raindrops above them, pooling together and washing away, each one meaningless in the face of the flood.

Just noise.

{xov does not attack yet}

[k!ah]

The night sky winks down at me as I lay with my back pressed against the metal grates of the watchtower. I had meant to sleep on the shitty excuse of a bed, exhaustion weighing down heavily on my body. But the moment I had stepped into the cabin memories of Felicity and the night we had squashed ourselves snuggly onto that stupid, mouldy, saggy piece of sponge, consumed me, forcing me out into the night air.

Mouse stares down at me, you're pathetic, you know? his eyes seemed to say and I glare at him, rolling over so that my back was to him, hiding the smile that danced on lips. It had been the first time since finding Felicity's body that he had seemed back to his self somewhat, and I took comfort in that. "You're pathetic," I shoot back, flipping him off over my shoulder just as the anthem begins.

Axyl's face appears first, which was surprising because that meant... Xov? Xov, of all people, was going to be the next, and last, target. I smile to myself slightly at the thought, she had been the first tribute to punch me in the face, the trigger to the brutal attacks that followed. I remember all too clearly how easy it had been to get under her skin back in the training center. Just a handful of carefully placed words had her cheeks reddening and her temper flaring. Where Lucky had needed some coaxing to bring the monster out, Xov would be a hell of a lot easier to break.

My teeth snag my lower lip, running over it roughly. Oh yes, tomorrow was going to be a hell of a lot of fun.

* * * 

I wake to a sudden down pour of water. It pounds down onto me so hard that I choke on it, scrambling to my feet. "What the fuck!" I bark, my arms raised to shield my face against the onslaught of water. "Mouse!" I yell and instantly he is next to me and I am scrambling onto his back, holding onto him tightly as he dives towards the forrest floor. Mouse moves swiftly, aiming for the mines entrance, desperate for shelter as the storm around us threatens to drown us on land.

He ducks into the entrance and I slip from his back, staring out into the arena as the ground beneath us turns to mud, and the tunnels behind me groan in reluctance as the flash flood reaches its peek. I bet this was Ivans doing. His fuck you to me after the light sprinkle of insults I had thrown his way yesterday before butchering his prized tribute and stealing his stripper eyepatch. Digging through my pocket I fish out the bedazzled monstrosity, it was as hideous as it was the day before.

Cringing, I shove it back into my pocket before the sound of rushing water fills my ear, causing a filthy line of curses to slip passed my lips. "Shit, Mouse, we gotta get out of here," I say as I step out into the torrential rainfall, once again using my arm to shield my eyes.

The path to shelter became all too obvious as I moved across the arena, the Hunter's Lodge a glaring beacon in the distance. Slowly I make my way towards it, Mouse close behind me, attempting to shield me from the worst of the down pour. Soon we are climbing the steps leading into the building, our waterlogged bodies causing the deck to groan under our weight. I push open the door, a cry of surprise quickly following as Mouse shoulders his way into the building behind me, "Mouse! What the hell are you doing?" He pretends to ignore me, ruffling his feathers as his predatory gaze sweeps over our surroundings. "I see your back to your mother hen antics once again," I groan as he moves passed me eyes pinned on the hearth.

I follow his gaze and notice the elevator door a moment before they swing open with a quiet ding. The game makers were very subtle with their commands, and it seemed that they were running out of patience. Rolling my eyes, I move towards the elevator, stepping onto it and crying out as Mouse pushes himself into the shaft behind me, my body pressed at odd uncomfortable angles as my fingers press the down button. "Personal. Fucking. Space. You fucking baboon," I grunt glaring up at Mouse. He glares right back. "I'm pretty sure you were not invited to the party, by the way," I grumble, shoving my elbow between his rib.

The doors slide open and I stumble out of them before I catch myself. I frown for a moment as I take in my surrounding. Floodlight circled a full-scale battle coliseum and in the center was Xov- or well, I assumed it was her- but she looked different. Her hair was shorter, uneven and ragged looking. It looked terrible and I raise a brow at her as I casually saunter over towards her, my eyes shifting to the Gamemaker for a moment. Ivan was missing, and a smug smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Licking his wounds after losing his favourite was he?

Hades gets up to speak, but my gaze returns to Xov taking in the hollow look in her eyes. She looked like shit and there is a cautiousness in her as she approaches me that has my lips hooking back into a grin. ”Hi Lionel, nice of you to show up fashionably late. I always knew you were a gentleman.”

One had gripped her glaive, the other was tucked behind her back. ”I never did take Lucky’s other eye out for you. You might need to work on your throwing advice," she jokes, but her voice shakes, and I wasn't quite sure if it was because of fear, anticipation, or exhaustion.

I giver her an extravagant bow. "You know how much I hate to disappoint, sweetheart," I say sweetly as I straighten, meeting her gaze before making a show of looking her from head to toe, before my eyes linger on her hair. "I must say, love, that this new look you got going on, it's quite something. Is it supposed to give 'homeless' vibes? Cause if so, you nailed it."

I step closer to her, fishing out Lucky's eye patch once again as my gaze flicks over towards the Gamemakers to see if Ivan had made an appearance yet. "Ahhh, Lucky, Lucky, Lucky- he was a cocky one, wasn't he?" I smirk at her as I look down at her, running a finger over the bedazzled eyepatch. "And dont you worry, I made sure to get his other eye. I think my advice might not have been the problem, love, some of us just aren't cut out for it."

I pause for a moment, studying her face once again. I lean in closer, whispering, "not going to lie, you look like shit. Like, truely pathetic. Which must be true, because if you remember, I am never wrong."

[august vance d7b [Bella]]

”You know how much I hate to disappoint, sweetheart,” said Lionel, taking a bow. Something about the way he was still joking around with her made Xov’s shoulders relax just slightly. His gaze pored over her like a page and she stood still, sizing him up in turn. His injuries had healed a little since she last saw him, and he seemed taller somehow, more self-assured.

He reminded her that she was looking much worse in comparison. ”I must say, love, that this new look you got going on, it’s quite something. Is it supposed to give ‘homeless’ vibes? Cause if so, you nailed it.”

She almost let out a laugh at just how right he was, but she clenched her jaw instead, aware that the folks at home were likely glued to the TV right now. Xov stood straighter in an attempt to look more dignified. Still she couldn’t help but wonder what she must look like on the screen–maybe like a fish out of water, a bear in a dress; a tattered, feral animal, smelly and soaked-through, transplanted to this squeaky-clean television set. She was past the point of caring about appearances, now that everyone in Panem had seen more of her than she had ever wanted to reveal.

Lionel stepped closer and her muscles tensed; she held her breath. But instead of pulling out a weapon, he revealed a gem-studded eye patch from his pocket that could only have been Lucky’s. Had Lucky really been wearing that as he faced Lionel’s sword? Then again, he had seemed like the type with a dark sense of humor. As Lionel ran a finger over its surface, she watched the impish grin of satisfaction unfolding in his features. It wasn’t just a collector’s token, she could tell. It was a debt paid.

”... don’t you worry, I made sure to get his other eye. I think my advice might not have been the problem, love, some of us just aren’t cut out for it.”

Xov shrugged off the jab. So the two of them had gotten even, Lucky and Lionel. Xov had to admit to herself that she was impressed by Lionel’s follow-through, but she could only hope that his winning streak would end here.

When he leaned in to whisper, her spine prickled, knuckles turning white on the glaive’s handle. Turning one eye to the side, she half-expected a hidden knife to appear from somewhere, but he just whispered, redundantly,

”Not going to lie, you look like shit. Like, truly pathetic. Which must be true, because if you remember, I am never wrong.”

The honesty was starting to grate at her nerves; she recoiled, left hand covering her ear where his warm breath had condensed on her skin, smelling awfully of stale milk.

Yeah, she got it. Understood. She looked bad, and more than that, she was unrecognizable even to herself. It was why she had avoided her reflection for eight days. But it didn’t matter. She stepped back, unable to stand so close to him any longer.

”Wooooow, you really know how to make a girl feel seen,” she bit back. ”I was going for a punk rock look. Gotta think ahead of the Capitol trends,” she added, tapping a finger to her temple. ”If you win, maybe your greasy schoolboy haircut will make a comeback.”

The words were running out as fast as her heartbeat was accelerating. Xov held no hatred for Lionel, but right now, she didn’t like the way he sucked up all the air in a room, when she already felt like there was no space left for her. She wanted her footing back. Taking a step backwards, she tried to center herself again.

”Sorry, Lionel, you know I’m just messing with you. But that’s never going to happen. If there’s one look trending tomorrow it’s going to be mine.”

It was time for the end to begin. Her unsteady hands clasped the glaive more eagerly than she could ever admit. A more grounded part of her held back that energy, urging her to clear her thoughts. To stop mirroring his constant sad comedy.

”If it means anything to you, I have been thinking…that you’re very brave.” She didn’t know why she said this out loud, even though she meant it, just like she had meant it when she told Maggie. The truth spilled out of her like a self-soothing salve when faced with something impossible, like pouring milk on a burn. She cleared her throat.

”But I want my future so bad it hurts,” she said, left hand thumping her hollow chest. ”And you’re standing in my way.”

Xov narrowed her gaze on Lionel’s, but did not see him. Instead a million images of home swelled up in front of her like a cresting wave, washing over her. With everything she had, she moved to join them.

{xov attacks lionel, glaive}
nyUOHDq8Uaglaive
{3.5}

glaive

[k!ah]

She recoils back from me and my smirk grows as I stare down at her in amusement. She had made it to easy, wearing her emotions on her sleeve. ”Wooooow, you really know how to make a girl feel seen,” she spits back at me, her annoyance causing the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes to deepen.

"One of my greatest talents, sweetheart," I say with a wink as I notice the way her fingers flex on the handle of her glaive. How long until she took her first swing? By the way her body seemed to tremble, and an uneasiness seemed to weave its way into her words, I guess not long.

”I was going for a punk rock look. Gotta think ahead of the Capitol trends. If you win, maybe your greasy schoolboy haircut will make a comeback.” Greasy? My hair was not greasy. Well, not usually. But after days of living in the the blood sweat and tears of your victims, it probably shouldn't come as a surprise that my hair was looking kind of disgusting, and somewhat crusty which was fucking disgusting. But instead of biting at her bait, I wave off her insult dismissively, rolling my eyes as I shifted on my feet, my fingers curling around the handle of Lucky's axe.

”Sorry, Lionel, you know I’m just messing with you," she says with a sincerity that has a frown tugging at my brows. Ugh, I groan internally as I fight the urge to roll my eyes again, a sigh caught in my throat. Her apology did nothing but cause a flicker of annoyance to surge through me. Why the hell was she apologising? For the pathetic little insults she had thrown my way in an attempt to slip under my skin? If she was going to appologise, she was going to have to do more than call out my obviously greasy locks.

"Are you seriously app-"

”If it means anything to you, I have been thinking…that you’re very brave.”

My amusement turns into confusion, my frown deepening. Brave? What- how had I been brave? Because I had killed Lucky? It had felt like an act of bravery. It had felt like an act of revenge, and it had been satisfying as fuck to see him dead at my feet, my fist aching from the strike I had landed when I had punched him square in the jaw. There had been nothing brave about the way I had struck him over and over until he could no longer take it. Until his blood had turned the earth beneath our feet red. There had been nothing brave about the fact that I had spat on his corpse and stolen his belongings.

”But I want my future so bad it hurts. And you’re standing in my way," she continues, pulling me out of my thoughts just as she swung her blade at me, her glaive aimed for my throat. I duck out of its fatal path, as I raise am arm to knock it off its path.

"That was rude," I say, examine my arm that had got caught on the edge of her blade. "You ruined my shirt," I pout dramatically, as I gesture to the new tear in my sleeve, predestined not to notice the blood and spit and dirt that stained most of the fabric. Not to mention it was basically torn to sherds at this point. "I liked this shirt," I fucking hated this shirt and I once I made it home I swear I was never going to wear the colour yellow ever again.

"And its nice to know that you have been thinking about me," I say around a smirk as I slip Lucky's axe free from its place in my belt, swinging it around casually. "Though, usually when girls are thinking about me its because they want to see me naked."

I stop swinging my axe around as I take hold of it across my front, running a finger along the sharp, blood stained blade. "This was Lucky's, you know. He tried to cut my head off with it, but, obviously, he failed." I say as my gaze flicks from the axe her Xov's face.

"But not before he was on his knees, begging me to spare his life. I wonder," I say as I step forward, a predatory smile on my lips as I watch her closely. "Will you be on your knees, begging for mercy before we are done here?"

attacks xov

2c5JkboTA3axe
cute lil 3.5

axe

[august vance d7b [Bella]]

The glaive caught Lionel’s arm as it swung up to block her strike. ”That was rude. You ruined my shirt,” he said sullenly. ”I liked this shirt.” Xov frowned in sheer amazement at the amount of pure nonsense that spilled from this boy’s mouth, almost like it sprung up from some inexhaustible bullshit source deep within him. That was one way to cope with adversity, she guessed– whereas she withdrew further into herself, he got louder.

”And it’s nice to know that you have been thinking about me.” He pulled an axe from a sheath on his hip, swung it around as easily as if it were part of his arm. It was a little disconcerting how well fighting became him–when they’d met, Xov had thought his best talent might be frisbee. ”Though, usually when girls are thinking about me it’s because they want to see me naked.”

Xov would have raised one eyebrow if she could, but both knotted together instead at this curious bluff, which had her wondering: how he would even know a girl’s thoughts–did he read their diary or something? ”How would you–” she began, but he interrupted her with his show-and-tell.

”This was Lucky’s, you know. He tried to cut my head off with it, but obviously, he failed.” A greedy fingertip ran along Lionel’s soiled blade as he watched for Xov’s reaction. She only stared back at him, steeling herself, but dreading the pain of that filthy metal. He was asking if she would beg for mercy like Lucky had–by Lionel’s account.

Her impatience mounting, she opened her mouth to respond, but then the head of the axe was hurling towards her face. Forgetting that her forearms were no longer armored, she pulled her right arm up to stop it. The blade zipped her skin open. Xov was not made for pain, would never get used to the feeling of being cut. Her upper body tensed against the shock of her skin being broken.

She forgot her camera manners–hopefully her parents would forgive her. ”Fuck, Lionel! Did you ever think to wash that thing? Are you trying to kill me, or just give me hepatitis?”

Xov jumped back, holding the glaive diagonally in front of her.

”No need to wonder. I will not beg for mercy. Be serious,” she huffed, spreading out the last two words as if ordering a child to do an impossible task. The was no hate behind her words, but they were pointed like darts. ”You sound like him when you talk like that. Sadistic. Is that what you wanted?”

The glaive that was once Maggie’s now called out to her for a quick ending. Her blood was pumping now, urging her to act. One breath after another. The red thread was still wrapped around her wrist, holding her onto herself. He would not get under her skin. He would not pressure her to hate, against her nature, not so close to the end.

”Lucky mocked me too. For defending Juno and Marcellus. But I’m alive and he’s not. Act like you enjoy this, if you want to. I will still outlive you.”

{xov attacks lionel, glaive}
zjJYvvOc0Vglaive
{8.0}

glaive

[k!ah]

I aim for her throat, eager to see the blood still from her skin until it soaked her shirt, until she choked on it until it filled her lungs and her heart refused to beat. But Xov moves quickly, stepping out of my blades path as she raised an arm to block its fatal strike. Her lips part in pain. her eyes flaring as they fly to meet my own, ”fuck, Lionel! Did you ever think to wash that thing? Are you trying to kill me, or just give me hepatitis?”

A dark chuckle escapes my lips at her words, my lips hooking back into a wide grin. "Is that a serious question, love?" I ask as the laughter begins to fade, my brows raising in question. "Are you asking if I am trying to kill you after you made the first move?" She moves back, her glaive braced in front of her in protection. It was cute she thought that that might be enough to save herself from my advances. The four people who came before her had thought the same, but where were they now? Dead. Dead. Dead. "And that is the aim of the game, after all."

”You sound like him when you talk like that. Sadistic. Is that what you wanted? Lucky mocked me too. For defending Juno and Marcellus. But I’m alive and he’s not. Act like you enjoy this, if you want to. I will still outlive you.”

Which ones were Juno and Marcellus again? I dig through my memory, trying to put a face to the name, but when I come up blank, I shrug, focusing on the first part of her revelation. Okay, so that was a little offensive, because I sounded nothing like that whiny brute. His insults were all backed but muscle and brute strength, where mine are laced with poison and a barbed tongue. "Oh please!" I say as I wave off her insult like it meant nothing to me, was simply just an inconvenience. "I sound nothing like that thick headed fool. His empty threats and weak taunts were just like him: dissapointing."

My fingers flex on his axe, remembering the way he had finally snapped once the right button had been pushed. 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. His final threat dances around me as I close the distance Xov had created between us in her attempts to prolong the inevitable. "You know, he had promised me a death so brutal that the citizens of the Panem would have to switch off their television to avoid being traumatised by the things he was going to do to me," I shake my head, a sigh of exasperation slipping passed me lips. "But Lucky Nachtnebel was a clown, and in the end he was the one screaming as my blade tore him to shreds and how delicious that sound had been."

I smile at her again, "so call me what you want, love. A sadist. A monster. It doesn't bother me, I know what I am and I am not ashamed of it." Not anymore, and never again.

attacks xov

xpFTOxWKpWaxe
cute lil 9.5

SD
3-8

axe·3-8

[august vance d7b [Bella]]

”Oh please!" Lionel exclaimed dismissively, waving her off. ”I sound nothing like that thick headed fool. His empty threats and weak taunts were just like him: disappointing."

She shook her head as he spoke. No, he reminded her of Lucky, but now, she thought Lionel might sound even worse. She wondered maybe if Lucky’s gang had been such a jerk to him on that first day that Lionel had picked up the sadist shtick and was trying to do it better than Lucky and Xylia. He seemed like the one-upping type.

As he went into the gory details of Lucky’s death threats and his subsequent triumph, Xov pursed her lips, hesitant, listening with a wary expression. The ease with which he spoke about ripping Lucky to shreds made her skin crawl like ice-cold water. For the past week, when she thought about Juno and Marcus dying, Lucky’s face had appeared in her mind, uninvited alongside the rush of emotion, the garnish in the glass of her bitter memory cocktail. Always there, pinning down her anger almost conveniently on one point, one person.

At least with Lucky, she could blame it on his upbringing–all the careers she had met recently might as well have been from another planet with the effortless way they moved with weapons, their bodies trained to kill. They had been preparing for this their whole lives. It wasn’t surprising that they could detach themselves from taking the lives of other children. But Lionel? What did he even do in Five? Sit around and think of cringey pick-up lines? To see him learn to savor killing like this was absurd. She watched his face as she spoke, trying to figure him out. Was he just bluffing?

"So call me what you want, love. A sadist. A monster. It doesn't bother me, I know what I am and I am not ashamed of it."

Lionel’s stride erased the space she had made, the blade of his axe swinging for the middle of her chest. A shout came from her lungs as she tried to move out of the way, vaguely wondering, is he trying to tear open my shirt? It was too far, the pervert–she wouldn’t put it past him to do anything for the cameras at this point. Or maybe it was just for the sake of his own pleasure. She was starting to doubt her own ability as a judge of character. Still she tried aloud to pin him down.

”I know your type,” she goaded. ”Boys like you just want to be good at something so they can have something to brag about. You got good at killing? So what?” Xov circled to the left, weighing her weapon in her hand again. ”I’ve killed too,” she continued, regret like sand in her throat. ”Lots of us have. Find a new goddamn hobby.”

Xov wanted the words to bite him the way that it nagged at her, this soft blond boy from the suburbs of Five turned serial-killer-bloodthirsty, bragging about Lucky’s end. The story was too familiar for comfort. Almost like the little girl from Twelve who grew up learning how to nurse tiny animals back to health, but now found herself wondering how to remove the smell of other people’s blood that wouldn’t leave her skin no matter how long she scrubbed it.

Would she be just as unrecognizable to the people at home as Lionel was to her?

The question made her slightly dizzy as it danced through her skull; she pressed her sandaled feet into the cold floor, narrowed her eyes at him again.

”You could have been good at anything, Lionel. Instead you do exactly what they told you to.” Her own breath tasted like metal in her mouth. ”Fine then. You’ll only make this easier for me.”

Forehead bent towards him, she charged forward with a frustrated growl, her glaive aimed for the collar of his favorite yellow shirt.

{xov attacks lionel, glaive}
P|_wh55GX8glaive
{3.5}

{light step on last attack}
1-10
{fails}

glaive·1-10

[k!ah]

My axe finds her shoulder, the blade digging into her flesh so deep that I felt it scrape against bone. I felt it, the way her flesh surrendered to me, so easily, so deliciously. I watch as the blood begins to gush from the wound, dripping down her shirt and turning it a darker shade of crimson. I had the strike of landed a few centimetres to the right... It would have been done and dusted, her life mine, just like Lucky's, and Hals, and Ingas, and Hugos.

There was a look of disbelief on her face, as though she couldn't recognise the person I was. As though she knew who I was and believed that whatever had happened to me throughout the last week had changed me. But Xov Thao didn't know me. She didn't know the first thing about me, and yet here she was, judging me without restraint. Not that I cared what she thought about me. But it was hard to ignore the judgemental glares she was throwing at me as though I had just spat in her food.

”I know your type,” she spurs, and I raise a brow at her, slinging the bloodied axe over my shoulder as I urge her to continue. "Boys like you just want to be good at something so they can have something to brag about. You got good at killing? So what? I’ve killed too. Lots of us have. Find a new goddamn hobby.”

Ugh, yawn, I think to myself as I roll my eyes, quickly becoming bored of her presumptions and perceived ideas about the person who she had pegged me to be. ”You could have been good at anything, Lionel. Instead you do exactly what they told you to. Fine then. You’ll only make this easier for me.”

"Come on now, Thao, you're boring me these attempts at- at what exactly? To try and find the nice guy who you think lurks beneath the surface? You don't know the first thing about me, as much as you believe you know exactly the type of guy I am." I look her up and down slowly, a smirk tugging at my lips as my eyes land on the blood that had begun to run steadily from the gash on her shoulder.

"I am not looking for a trophy because I 'got good at killing'," I say mockingly as I imitate her voice dramatically, "and to set the record straight, I am good at everything." She charges towards me, I knock her to the side, easily blocking the worst of her attack as I round on her, not allowing her to create distance between us. "And you're one to talk, love. You are doing exactly what they have asked. So you can shove your hypocritical opinions up your ass and perhaps then you can find a way to jump down off your high horse and stop pretending to be better than those around you."

My hand tightens on Lucky's axe as I prepare to swing. "And then maybe you can find yourself a new hobby."

attacks xov

wEkNJBNAxyaxe
cute lil 3.5

axe

[august vance d7b [Bella]]

"And you're one to talk, love. You are doing exactly what they have asked. So you can shove your hypocritical opinions up your ass and perhaps then you can find a way to jump down off your high horse and stop pretending to be better than those around you."

Lionel’s axe found a new place on Xov’s side to draw blood from, like he was trying to paint a picture on her shirt, iron-red on gray. She grunted as a new hole ripped open her shirt, one hand moving there to hold her blood in. A hungry look drank in her wounds, and she half-expected him to lick his chops like a dog watching a dangling steak. She wanted to vomit, to turn away so she couldn’t watch him watching her–though she thought she might be able to feel his predatory look even with her back turned.

Her eyes danced between the exits, out there in the dark hallways but unusable, the gamemakers, back to Lionel, his shoulder hunching towards her like he thought he’d trapped her in some invisible net connected to his own body. A thought crossed her mind that if she made it out of here alive, she would make a habit of going in and out of doorways just for the sheer pleasure of enjoying the freedom to exit a room whenever she wanted, something she’d taken for granted before. She wanted out.

Xov chewed on Lionel’s bitter accusations and would have spat them out if her mouth wasn’t bone dry. A hypocrite? She had acted how she believed, with reciprocity at the top of her list. Took care of Juno when he took care of her. Tried to defend Marcus when he took a burn in her place. Fed Gus when he brought her plants to eat. Hurt Lucky when he hurt her friends (and Lionel). Hurt Gunner when he put a bullet in Marcus’s body. All according to how she’d been taught– to stand up for the people she cared about.

Except for the killing part.

Maybe she had been hoping there was something else going on behind Lionel’s alarming thirst for her blood, which seemed like a sudden change from the boy she’d run into in the woods after the bloodbath, beaten with a broken leg and still laughing–but then maybe it wasn’t. Maybe that was on her for thinking that people always kept something good buried in their hearts, even when violence burned in their eyes with a drunken hunger like wildfire. Maybe she hadn’t watched enough Games reruns. Because part of her couldn’t believe that someone could be permanently evil. Or permanently anything. Temporary was the law of the land, like the river running past their cabin, always flowing and changing.

It was why she had hoped her words could chip away at something in Lionel, thought she didn’t know what. Empathy, maybe. Someone under his stubborn thick skin who would at least give her an honorable end. Whatever that meant, it didn’t look like this–his mocking voice, his crooked smirk, and the slow, agonizing death he was planning for her.

It was settled then. She couldn’t die here.

Left shoulder throbbing as it leaked her life, Xov’s grip tightened on her glaive. Inside, she was saying goodbye to the Lionel that she used to think she liked. He had already said it to her, but here she was, still standing against the window hoping he’d turn around.

Either way, she would always see him.

”Sure,” she responded, eyes suddenly hot and stinging with tears that she blinked back before they could pool together, ”I must have misjudged you. After all, you said you’re never wrong.” She pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling.

”Tell me then, what ‘type of guy’ are you, Estrada?” she spat his family name like he had hers, the letters warping in her mouth. ”If there’s no nice guy hiding in there, then what is? Or are you just empty underneath it all? I’m dying to know. Literally.

Only she wasn’t yet. She could still taste the home she had dreamed of last night–it was so close but impossibly far. More questions swirled in her mind, but her throat felt numb from shouting. She thrust her glaive toward the soft space under his ribs, where he’d just clipped her, because it felt easier to hurt him back than to argue.

{xov attacks lionel, glaive}
3fT8D9B7Ddglaive
{4.0}

glaive

[k!ah]

She was nervous, her eyes darting around the arena as though she might somehow find an escape route. It was futile, and somewhat pathetic, that might of made a better person feel sorry for her. And perhaps thats exactly how I should feel as I caged her in like a predator circling its prey. But I didnt, I couldn't, I wouldn't. I had been forced into this game knowing that death was to be my outcome.

And yet here I stood, against all odds with no one but itty bitty Xov Thao standing in my way. And I would not apologise for the things that I have done and the things that I will continue to do because for the first time in my life I felt like I could breathe. For the first time in my life I couldn't give two fucking shits about what the world thought of me, about what my father thought about me. And I knew it was fucking twisted that that sense of freedom had come from becoming what some might deem a monster, or committing the unforgivable act of killing. But I would bet my life on the fact that if they found themselves in my position that would not of set down their blade and surrendered. No, they would strike with the intention of killing.

Just Like Xov had. And yet I am somehow the monster in this equation? Why, because I have embraced becoming what was needed? Because I didnt hate it?

Then so be it. I could be the monster in her nightmare, the villain in these games, and I would fucking own it without regret because for the first time in my life I could be unapologetically myself. Warts and, apparently, shitty personality and all. And the Capitol would eat that shit up like fucking gold.

Glassy eyes meet my own as tears gather at the corner but refuse to fall. Good. "I must have misjudged you. After all, you said you’re never wrong. Tell me then, what ‘type of guy’ are you, Estrada?” She asks, her trembling voice laced with venom that has my eyes dancing with amusement. "If there’s no nice guy hiding in there, then what is? Or are you just empty underneath it all? I’m dying to know. Literally."

"Ah, what the comedian you have become," I say flatly as I casually toss Lucky's axe from one hand to the other. "And I think I might pass on this therapy session about trying to define who I am deep down," I pause, grasping Lucky's axe in one hand as the other runs roughly through my hair. "Now, let's get a move on with this whole I try to kill you and you try to kill me thing. So much talk and we are going to bore our lovely Gamemakers," I flash a grin in their direction with a low wave. "By the way, where is Mr Ivan? I would looove to see him."

I draw my gaze away from them quickly, refocusing on Xov as I watch the way her hand trembles slightly against the shaft of her glaive. "Are you scared, love?" I ask, studying her face closely. "Don't worry, for you, I'll make this quick."

attacks xov

YG1|9iPQdRaxe
cute lil Severed Leg -- 10.0

axe

[august vance d7b [Bella]]

Somewhere along the way, Lionel had learned how to smile for the cameras. Xov looked on in wonder and disgust as his hand coiffed his hair while the other weighed the axe for another swing, a wide grin opening towards the gamemakers’ table. There had always been something off about him, like a lack of self-awareness or bad timing. She didn’t anticipate that he would end up being just as happy to kill on television as any of the careers were.

At least his constant talk gave her a moment to breathe. Just a few seconds each time, but it was enough to watch for the places where his arms didn’t cover when he defended against her strike, or the direction he tended to swing, leaving open spaces on his torso. Things that she had learned by the blows that Maggie had dealt her, and to Xov were mostly guesses. Still, it might be her only chance at getting ahead. He was almost twice her size and easily stronger, but she was fast, and her eyes were sharp.

"Are you scared, love?" Lionel crooned at her. "Don't worry, for you, I'll make this quick."

The head of his axe hurled towards her hip; she swiveled out to avoid it, but it caught her ankle with the worrying crunch of cold steel crushing bone. She cried out even though she didn’t want to, and couldn't stand the way he would savor the sound. Her right knee crumpled forward and then snapped back as she tried to right herself.

Deep brown eyes full of tears, wrought by disbelief and thundering pain, followed the space where her own blood mingled with Lucky’s on the blade. They looked just the same, her blood and his, as if when opened up like this, their insides didn’t know who was who.

Xov’s head was spinning.

It hurt so bad she forgot every piece of advice she had ever learned about pain, her mother’s “fix-it voice” ordering her around in a flurry of memories. Breathe through it, walk it off, shift your weight, put pressure on it, take a pain reliever, have some tea, here’s a hot water bottle. Drink water, don’t climb so high, it’s infected, this man is going to lose a leg, we need to make a tourniquet. It’s broken. Grab me a branch for the splint. We’d better pray.

”Your aim is still shit,” she growled through gritted teeth, leaning on her good foot. ”I’m not afraid of you. You’re just like a crow, cawing in my ear. Loud for no reason. But you’re no bird of prey no matter how much you dress like one.”

She hoped he was no omen of death, either.

Biting through the pain, she swung with all the force she could, the weapon heavy in her arms. Just like before, all she needed was a few more minutes. To outlast him.

”Just drop the act, Lionel. You can be yourself around me. I promise I’ll give you an honorable death.” She hoped she’d throw him off balance if she could get a rise out of him. ”Anything you want to say to your family back home before I finish this?”

{xov attacks lionel, glaive}
ZXEKSWJCt7glaive
{9.5}

{sd on previous attack}
3-8

glaive·3-8

[k!ah]

Lucky's axe was coated in Xov's blood. It was thick and dark and warm and as it ran down the length of the blade it curled around the handle, dripping onto my fingers. A scream of pain escapes her lips, her knees buckling as her ankle became a mess of torn sinew and bone and flesh. The sound pieces through the arena, a sound that should have had the hairs on my arms raising and my stomach clenching in discomfort. But it doesn't, and I knew that if Felicity had of been standing next to me, she wouldn't have flinched at the sound either. No, she would have just stepped closer, a silent support beside me, always.

Tear filled eyes meet my own and I grin widely at her, a low whistle escaping my lips. "Now that looked like it hurt," I purr as I run a finger over my blood soaked blade.

”Your aim is still shit,” she growls and I chuckle, pointedly looking at her foot. ”I’m not afraid of you," she says and I give her a look of disbelief because just a moment ago her voice trembled just as much as her fingers as she fought to hold onto her glaive. But if itty bitty Xov Thao wanted to continue to lie to herself, then I could let it go. For now.

Grunting she prepared for her next strike, her glaive aimed for my stomach. ”Just drop the act, Lionel," she demands and I watch as she moves, as she pushes her weight onto her injured foot. It slowed her down a lot, so much so that I saw her strike before it lands, and instead I moving out of her blades path, I move into it. A groan of pain escapes my lips as she presses her glaive into my gut, ripping open Felicity's perfectly placed stitches.

My free hand wraps around the shaft of her glaive as I hold it in place, my eyes meeting hers. "Xov, darling, there is no act. This. Is. Me." With each word I push forward, my teeth clenching as I feel her blade break through the skin of my back. "Stop trying to look for someone who ins't there, because in the end, only one person will be disappointed." My breathes come out more uneven, the pain agonising as my bloodied had wraps around Xov's boney shoulder. I pull her closer, forcing her glaive to dig in deeper as I growl in her face, "take it or leave it. But stop trying to turn me into something to make you feel better."

I shove her back, my hand wrapping around the handle of her glaive as I rip it from my stomach and throw it to the ground, cursing as red hot pain causing my vision to blur for a moment. "And before you finish this?" I laugh, pressing my free hand to my stomach in an attempt to slow the bleeding. "Please, stop lying to yourself, babe, its becoming a little embarrassing."

attacks xov

b6RrvTGxfvaxe
cute lil 3.5

axe

[august vance d7b [Bella]]

Steel sliced through the fabric of Lionel’s shirt, parting the skin of his stomach, burying deeper and deeper as he grabbed the handle and pushed, word by word.

“This. Is. Me."

Xov’s knee-jerk reaction was to let go, his warm blood making the handle slippery, the sight of the tissues under his skin, the lines of fat and purplish red, turning her stomach. Niam would be sacrificing a rabbit for good luck back home as she had said in the justice building, and it would happen almost like this, entrails freed from sternum to tail. And now Lionel sacrificed himself the same way as he moved into her knife. Her eyes quivered in disgust and bewilderment as they met his. Was he trying to curse her with his own blood? Or was he really just that cocky?

"Stop trying to look for someone who isn't there, because in the end, only one person will be disappointed."

His hand against her shoulder was warm where the rain had turned it cold. When he pulled her in closer, growling, the forced movement made her ankle scream. The air between them seemed to exert its own pressure. "Take it or leave it. But stop trying to turn me into something to make you feel better."

Even though she held his gaze, she had already stopped searching behind his hungry look. Up close like this, she could see in his eyes the path from the Lionel she’d seen nine days ago to this camera-ready street fighter. That this boy had a pain threshold that was beyond what she could imagine–Xov, who yelped at a paper cut. He had joked with her about Lucky kicking him while he was down, and now she could almost picture him in ten years, sitting around a table with his family and maybe children, laughing off the story of how he’d pulled her blade into his stomach just to see her reaction. She could almost hear the way his voice would say it: And you should have seen the stupid, sorry look on her face.

In another world, she would have wished anyone a future where they could tell the stories behind all their battle scars. But in this one, she had to be the one who took it for herself.

Xov stumbled from his shove, clambered to pick up her weapon off the ground where he threw it, her foot still hanging by the sinews. Pain crept from her ankle so fast that she felt it everywhere. In her attempt to control her limbs, she battled the seconds that gave Lionel space and time.

He pressed his hand to his stomach, the blood seeping through his fingers. ”And before you finish this? Please, stop lying to yourself, babe, it’s becoming a little embarrassing."

Xov’s hands found purchase on the handle of her glaive, sticky with Lionel’s blood. She breathed heavily through the ache, the iron-oxide odor tickling her nostrils. Every time she smelled it, she could see their faces. Maggie and Axyl. Soon, Lionel would be there with them. She had a feeling his face would be just as hard to erase from her mind as it was turning out to be in life.

”It would not make me feel… better… to believe you are a good person,” she said, trying to catch her breath through the pain in her leg. ”I’m so glad you’re an asshole, so I can leave here and never think about you again. Then I will have really won.”

Xov clenched her fists around the shaft of the weapon, her thin muscles trembling as she summoned all their force. ”I’m tired,” she confessed. ”You sure you want to be a victor? Because if you'd want to rest forever after that, I wouldn’t blame you.” She closed the distance between them, swinging with one big exhale.

{xov attacks lionel, glaive}
o9kwEaTcX1glaive
{8.0}

glaive

[k!ah]

”It would not make me feel… better… to believe you are a good person. I’m so glad you’re an asshole, so I can leave here and never think about you again," she pants, and we both know that that would be a lie. If she made it home, I knew that my ghost would haunt her till the day that she died. I would forever tarnish a part of her, never to be forgotten. I kind of liked the idea of it, to be dead, but alive in the mind of my murderer. To become a stain on her soul.

Once again her fingers tremble as they wrap around the shaft of her glaive and when I look into her eyes there is a new heaviness to them that has her looking older than she really is. ”I’m tired,” she confessed quietly and for a moment she looks so young, her body covered in blood, her own and those of her victims. And that should have been enough to have me pause and think twice, and maybe it would have been eight days ago. But not anymore, not when my body thrummed with anticipation, not when I wanted to see her fall at me my feet.

And I didn't feel guilty about it. Or remorseful. No matter how fucked up that was.

She charges for me again, a growl on her lips and I smile, taunting and encouraging, begging her to do her worst. I open my arms for her, and at the last moment I knock the tip of her blade away from my throat. It slices into my arm, deeper than anticipated and hiss of pain escaped my lips as my blood begins to run freely, soaking my fingers until Lucky's axe feels slippery in my grasp. Grimacing I switch the axe into my non dominant hand. Flexing the injured one with a growl of pain as the blood begins to flow more freely. That was not good. Combined with the mess that was my stomach, I was losing blood at an alarming rate. A dangerous rate.

"I'm not tired, more bored that this is the best you've got," I taunt, re-adjusting my grip on Lucky's axe as I give it a test swing. The movement felt awkward, weak. I lick my lips, testing my swing again before I lock my gaze with her's. "But if you're so tired, how about you lie down. Close your eyes. I promise I won't slit your throat in your sleep," I say sweetly, giving her an entirely innocent look that not one person watching us would have believed.

My smile turns hungry, and in the next breath I am leaping for her, my axe swinging wildly as I strike without remorse.

attacks xov

28JgExmpzZaxe
cute lil served leg at knee 9 dmg

axe