blazing beauties | duchess vs portia | bb [round 2]

[d1b portia maybach 🏆 frankel]

It’s honourable to wait by him, even if Limp Rat threatened to take her honour. Portia holds onto his hand, her thumb rests on his wrist until there’s no more signs of life.

Portia steps back from his body, even after the tasteless threats from her own lips, she doesn’t step over him – just around him. She doesn’t wipe his blood from her knife or even look back at him. Onto the next one but first she must figure out what is going on in here.

Where are Circe and Sera? Who caused that fire? Can she make her own fire? Where even is she? Endless question marks decorate her thoughts. It takes time to piece together the clues. Theres been constant music while she has been here, she must be on a stage. Behind a stage. The other’s must be on the other side. Everyone managed to get in here so there must be a way out.

The toe of her boot kicks up the stray sand that is seeping in from somewhere. It may lead her to the exit, it even leads her to a gift. A pot of a black sticky substance – tar! ”It is my turn to play with fire!” Portia whispers under her breath as she picks it up, popping off the lid and taking in the strong petroleum smell. ”Perfect!” She moves the pot away from her nose and dips her knife into it. The guy’s blood is washed away with the dark substance. She’ll light it at the right moment.

It is time to wander. The dancing silhouettes that once surrounded her have dwindled. There must be someone else hiding amongst the wires, the crates, even under the wooden floorboards that creek beneath her feet.

”Circe? Sera? Jupiter?” Hopefully they don’t answer back. Portia is a prepared predator, sniffing out her next snack. Not her teammates but the time was always going to come where all three of them needed to die – may as well get to that page early.

It is just the first morning of the Hunger Games. Her skin is drenched in blood, from the top of her forehead, all the way down to her fishnets that seem to glow whenever she is out of the light. The most effective career! If everyone else is dead, she could break a record and become the quickest ever victor. Portia Maybach breaks records; this game is no different.

”That is a sword…” Portia points her measly tar dipped knife towards the deadlier weapon that is being carried by a blonde. This one is called Duchess, it is memorable name that somehow stuck in her memory – unlike poor Limp Rat that she never seemed to learn about. A District Ten, this may not be an easy climb like her first one. ”Now, where did you get that from?” Portia rubs her chin with her free hand, there must be more hiding amongst the speakers and strobe lights. ”It doesn’t matter, it’ll soon be mine!” It won’t be an easy trade, not like the juggling of knives with the guy.

Portia is out of the gate first, perhaps a dirty jump start but who is going to penalise here? It is her turn to play with fire.

Portia attacks Duchess | Knife (with fire)
rZH6sQmbrfknife
[3.5]

Lights knife with tar
1-50
[8]

knife·1-50

[dars]

D U C H E S S D U C H A N N E S

SERPENTINE KILLER, BOUND BY ITS CLIMB

Her hands closed around the hilt and she spun with it raised in the air, ready to defend herself against- no one. She craned her neck left to right, all around, and the girl was nowhere to be found. Her gaze settled on the set of stairs she'd run past. She couldn't see the bottom from her place on the ground, but as she clamored toward it, the sight at the bottom forced her hand to her mouth in shock.

The stairs looked like they were meant for maintenance use based on their placement, no doubt a service hatch or an access room to go below-stage. The door was not only chained shut, but there was a glowing thumbpad near the knob which gave the impression that no one would be getting inside unless the Gamemakers wanted them to. Or, maybe they could, if they were smart enough to hack the door, or strong enough to break through it. But the door wasn't as important to Duchess as the body lying completely still in front of it. A pool of blood already wreathed her head in a crimson halo, which grew with the passing seconds. The breath left from Duchess's lungs as she stared down at the blank stare of the crude, emotionless mask. It was a positively monstrous thing to bear witness to as it was; the knowledge that it was caused by her own hands gave her half a mind in that instant to fling herself down after the girl.

She should have gone down and inspected the girl, but she wasn't brave enough to face it. What if she was dead? What if she wasn't? Was it worse to be haunted by the mask, or to see the suffering beneath it? She knew which option she deserved, but she couldn't steel her nerves, so she stood and walked in the opposite direction. She walked aimlessly, unsure of where to go before finding a nice, quiet corner to have a mental breakdown inside. Once the tears had started, they didn't stop for quite some time. Then, eventually, she had the thought that if someone heard her, they'd easily be able to find her, so she managed to shut it up to a steady whimper. For whatever reason, she remembered the note on her sword finally, wiping her face free of tears to slide a slide of paper from it.

Andal told me to give it to you because I couldn’t give it to my own tributes.
- Flynn Garner

It wasn't particularly... ceremonious, was it? And it also confused her. Why couldn't Flynn sponsor his own tributes? Was there a rule against that? She didn't recall it coming up when she was in the Capitol but then to be fair, she wasn't exactly well-versed in the rules of the Hunger Games. It could've been anything. Maybe there was a ban on giving swords to kids from District Six. Or, maybe both of the District Six tributes were dead already. Also attached were instructions on how to use the blade, which she thought sounded silly at first until she began to read along. "'Add tar at base'?" She muttered, noticing a small hatch at the bottom of the blade for the first time. After some prodding, it slid open. If she angled it just right, she could see through the serrated teeth on one edge, but she did as the instructions said and poured the awful black tar into the blade. "'Flick sparkwheel and hold away from body. Use quickly.'" She glanced down at the small, flexible handle she'd been absently fiddling with. "Oh, this thing here?"

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of feet clacking against the cavernous expanse of room she was hidden within. She hoped that whoever was passing through wouldn't notice her and would just walk right on past, or if they did notice, she hoped they were smaller, or weaker, or more afraid. What she got instead was a reminder that the nightmare she was living in wasn't over just yet.

"Circe? Sera? Jupiter?"

The person rounding the corner was covered in blood from head to toe, excitedly dipping her knife into the same tar Duchess had filled her sword with. Duchess held her breath, trembling with fear, eyes wide with alert. Go away, she willed, she hoped, she prayed: Go away, go away, go away. Instead, because Duchess refused to look away even for a second, she got to see the exact moment the other girl noticed her standing there.

"That is a sword..." The girl said in a matter-of-fact tone. Duchess tucked the blade behind her leg to obscure its view from the predator-like girl. "Now, where did you get that from?"

Duchess didn't trust her voice not to crack if she spoke, so she nodded up to the ceiling by way of answer. Then, while she still could, she stood. Her grip on the sword was shaky at best, and even though there was a layer of blood present on the other girl's face that hadn't been before, Duchess was certain she recognized her from around the training center. A District One girl.

Another career.

"It doesn't matter," the girl decided, "It'll soon be mine!" With a striking flash, the girl's knife went up in flames. She was too stunned to move as her aggressor pounced forward: a lioness on the hunt. Pain erupted across her chest and the god-awful stench of burning hair filled her nose. She stumbled backwards before turning and running, circling around curtains and ducking under rogue stage wires and hanging ropes. She jumped over props she doubted she'd be able to jump over, crawled under rolled up mats she was certain she'd get stuck beneath. When she turned to look, she could still see the other girl so she sighed, her thumb flicking the sparkwheel of her sword, and winced as it erupted with flame.

"You want it? Come and take it, you psycho!"

[duchess attacks portia, sword]
BDvygvfxbksword
[3.5]

[duchess uses tar]
1-50
[+2]

sword·1-50

[d1b portia maybach 🏆 frankel]

Flames singe the hairs on Portia’s forearms. This is no child’s toy or a wooden training sword from the career academy. It is her power, her freedom. It is how they will immortalise her in stone with a crown on her head. A fierce statue, with flames pointing to the sky. It’ll look better with a sword in her hand though. She owes the past hour of her life to the little deadly blade, but it is time she gets it promoted. She’ll honour it with a memorial as soon as she feels the pulse of Duchess fade.

It only takes a swift slash across the other girl’s chest for her to start running. Portia follows, this isn’t a flat sprint, but a trail run across obstacles. Wires waiting to trip the clumsy and whole entire boxes to clamber over so she can reach her prize.

”You’re really running. Running away from me?” A sickly cackle twists with her words, she is really cementing herself as the thing she wanted to stray away from before entering the arena. There must be something in the water in career academies that flicks a switch inside of kids as soon as they taste blood. She is just sixteen, but this is how she has been engineered all her life. Like the automobiles her family manufactures. They all look different on the outside, but it is the same tried, tested and never failed engine within them. Portia’s spitting oil, wheels spinning as she turns corners and avoids fallen speakers to chase after the girl.

It is time her machine gets its upgrade, and it will come with that sword.

Portia gets the first taste of the sword; it tries to puncture her tyres – slashes at the blood sodden fishnets covering her legs. A hole burns through the back of them but is quickly extinguishes before it turns her into a bonfire. ”Ahhhhh…hahahahaha!” She winces and then laughs. Portia is totally losing her mind.

Maybe it is the dust that she keeps sweeping into her lungs whenever her boots hit the floor. Or the desperation of leaving here with blood still pumping within her. Or she is just enjoying this new predator role that she has never claimed before.

”I’ll come and take it but keep running. I love the challenge!” Portia is not breathless when she speaks. It will take a whole marathon around the backstage for her to even gasp for a little air. Will it just be a brag to overtake Duchess and show how fast she is? It is too early to break the fun of the chase. Portia stays at the girl’s heels, the blaze lights up her face – only masked by blood.

”The other guy gave up so early. What makes you think you’re so worthy of getting out of here?”

Portia attacks Duchess | Knife (with fire)
I7LHe7rPUGknife
+8 + 1 blades

[Fire]
1-50
Can we accuracy re roll fire? Void this re-roll if not.

1-50
Pfftt

knife·1-50·1-50

[dars]

D U C H E S S D U C H A N N E S

SERPENTINE KILLER, BOUND BY ITS CLIMB

The girl closed the distance between them and in doing so, displayed a level of bravery that Duchess Duchannes would never feel. She raised her sword as a warning, but it did nothing to stop the other girl's advancement. She swung. She worried for a moment that she'd moved the blade too quickly and exhausted the flames, but as the other girl raised her arm to block Duchess, parrying the swing down from the ribs, where she'd been aiming, to the girl's thigh, a spark wall of fire exploded from the blade as well. Not a direct hit like she'd hoped, but going up against a career- particularly one as covered in blood as the one present- is wasn't anything to sneeze at. The flames melted a part of the girl's fishnets and the sword left a mark. Duchess had no time to celebrate, though, as the girl mimicked her attack only better and more precise. While Duchess had managed a glance across the front of the other girl's leg, her response was to bury her knife up to the hilt in Duchess's thigh.

For a moment, the shock of it hid the pain. She stared at it with wide eyes. It was just... there. The hilt sticking out. The muscles in her leg trying to contract ever-so-slightly, microscopically, and being unable to do so because they were pinned in place. And then it got even worse, because the girl removed the blade and Duchess saw the blood immediately start to pour down her leg.

She wailed in agony, thrashing to distance herself from the sudden intense pain, a pain that was inescapable. "Gaaaah! Ahh-" She groaned and winced, shoving her clenched fist against the wound because she couldn't bring herself to open her hand. On the positive side, the girl had extinguished the flames of her dagger when she'd plunged it into Duchess, which meant that this certainly unwinnable fight became slightly less certain.

"Golly God damn!" She cursed at last, unable to help herself from uttering the words through clenched teeth.

"I’ll come and take it but keep running. I love the challenge!"

The other girl didn't even sound winded. Not after all the running, or the burn on her leg- she seemed completely fine, even. Duchess knew that the girl wasn't just calling her bluff: she meant the words she was saying, no matter how horrifying or unhinged they were.

"The other guy gave up so early. What makes you think you’re so worthy of getting out of here?"

She had options. She could try to run again, though there was nowhere she could get to that this girl couldn't also get there faster. Not to mention, her leg was now pouring blood whereas it hadn't been about ten seconds ago, so she actually wasn't even sure she could run. She could lay there and hope whatever happened next happened quickly. But seeing the blood covering this girl, and hearing her talk about the person it belonged to like she was bored by the interaction made her that much more certain she didn't want to suffer the same fate. Or, she could fight. She wasn't nearly as experienced, and her chances were slim, but she had a chance. And that was the only option she could think of where she did have a chance.

So, she made a decision.

"Don't worry, I ain't gonna give up."

[duchess attacks portia, sword]
I6D5DhHbYbsword
[miss, 0]

[duchess uses tar]
1-50
[+2]

[reroll]
sword
[4.5]

sword·1-50·sword

[d1b portia maybach 🏆 frankel]

Every movement from Portia feels so automatic. There’s not even a second of thought, just force. A machine coded to react; the thinking was already done for her by the trainers back in the academy. It scares her, even a glimpse of it is shown on her face.

Instinct pushes her knife into Duchess’s thigh, just the same as she did with the guy. Portia’s mouth falls open, her eyes drop and raise from her hand to the girl’s eyes. Her pain seeps louder than Portia’s, she is fighting someone who is not built for this. Duchess is fighting for survival while Portia is fighting for sport. Doesn’t mean Portia is going to take the loss though.

Excruciating seconds tick by, and Portia finally pulls the knife out of the girl’s leg. At least retrieving her knife was easier than last time. All that is left on the metal is blood, there’s barely a trace of tar and the fire is gone. Portia frantically hits the flint trigger on the hilt, her thumb begs for it to set off a spark and turn the power back on. ”Come back, you useless thing!” She is so close to just throwing the knife but there is a girl stood barely a foot away from here with an entire blazing sword. Bare knuckles are no match for something so deadly. ”Now I am going to have to take the sword AND the flames!”

And the girl proves she is capable of using it, the sword is close to burning off Portia’s eyebrows, not that they’re clearly visible beneath all of the blood. Portia smirks, even the stylists couldn’t give her such an extravagant makeover.

"Don't worry, I ain't gonna give up."

”Good because I am going to beat you fair and square.”

Even if the odds are not favouring Portia right now. She could just try and snatch the sword from her.

She teases with her free hand, Portia reaches out, pretending to claw at the Duchess who grips onto the hilt. It is playful for now, but the desperation will set in soon as Portia’s blood leaks from her wound. Begging for it will mean failure, the only way is to earn it. ”You’re only favouring me by fighting, I can do this all day! Whenever you think it is time to give up, just let me know ‘cos I ain’t going anywhere!” Portia tries to imitate the District Ten accent. This isn’t begging, mental torment can be as powerful as physical. The bullies in the academy taught her that.

Portia attacks Duchess | Knife
IfpKWaUzgiknife
[8 +1 blades]

Portia uses Light Step on Duchess' last attack (1004 and 26)
1-10
[Successfully dodges last attack]

knife·1-10

[dars]

D U C H E S S D U C H A N N E S

SERPENTINE KILLER, BOUND BY ITS CLIMB

Duchess realized exactly what the girl was doing. She was toying with her: a cat, absently pawing at the hopelessly-struggling mouse before it. For every inch in the right direction Duchess managed to budge, the other girl pushed several feet ahead. Already, her own chest ached from the stark heaving of her lungs, the desperate attempts to keep her systems calm and functioning normally. As if she couldn't tell her adrenaline was pumping by the lightness of the sword and the dilation of her pupils. As if she couldn't feel her heartbeat at every pulse point. As if her stomach didn't ache and turn, as if her throat didn't constrict with a mixture of rage and fear and bile, as if her brain itself had shut down every present thought that wouldn't immediately save her life.

There wasn't a part of her that wasn't alert and functioning with the distinctive intention of keeping her alive right now. Tomorrow wasn't a concern yet when the minute might've been borrowed.

"You’re only favouring me by fighting, I can do this all day!"

At first, all Duchess could think was that the girl was right. By fighting, she was playing into the career's strengths in combat. The other girl did have vastly more experience. But what other choice did she have, leaking from as many wounds as she was? She knew it was a rule to never look down the barrel of a gun, but this time it seemed like her only way out.

"Whenever you think it is time to give up, just let me know ‘cos I ain’t going anywhere!"

Duchess yelled in frustration. This girl was not nice, to say the least. She was starting to think she wouldn't have even been friends with her if they'd met under different circumstances! Trembling hands refused to let go of the sword they held, and for now the flames continued to dance, so maybe that counted for something at the end of it all. A whimper she cursed herself for allowing to slip past her lips was quickly followed by a huff of defiance.

"You might kill me. You might not. I'm gonna leave my mark on you either way, though."

She refused to be forgotten, reduced to a bloodstain on someone else's smiling face.

Though it may have been her final decision, it was hers to make as she raised the blazing sword over head and brought it down on the girl, a goddess smiting a demon back to hell where it belonged.

[duchess attacks portia, sword]
wFuYLc8Rhpsword
[8 + 1 blades]

[duchess uses tar]
1-50
[+4]

sword·1-50

[d1b portia maybach 🏆 frankel]

”Aaaahh!” Portia yelps when the sword strikes at her leg, it tears a larger hole in her fishnets and digs deep into her skin. The flames cauterise the wound, but it doesn’t remedy the pain that finally slows Portia Maybach down. It has been an unsteady fight for so long but now the playing field feels even.

She is starting to fight herself. Overworked lungs and unstable feet. The thinking that her career machine has denied suddenly switches on. Now there is a distant voice pleading in her mind. It is sat on her shoulder, whispering in her ear – You can’t keep going on like this. Portia shakes her head and sweeps her shoulder with the knifeless hand.

"You might kill me. You might not. I'm gonna leave my mark on you either way, though."

”That is what the guy said.” Portia laughs whilst picking up her determination from the threatening impeding doom. ”You don’t even know how to leave a scar with that thing, I’ll show you how…” Portia reaches out again, she refuses to believe that her hands will not be on that hilt by the end of this. The end of Duchess, not her.

Duchess stumbles back and Portia tries to corner her, a risky move when a flaming sword is being waved around. Wires hang loose behind the girl, a lethal looking entanglement of live electricity. Duchess looks down at the sword and back to Portia, ”Come and get it.” The sword raises and Portia reaches out but the blade doesn’t land in her hand. It cuts the live wires; blue and white sparks light up the backstage and a horrified Portia stumbles back.

She does nothing but watch the electricity pulsate through Duchess’s body. There’s a crackling sound that not even the music can mute. It is nightmare unfolding in front of her, the sparks stop, and Duchess drops to the floor. Like a bird of prey circling its next meal, Portia pounces. She bends down near the body, a single fingertip touches the hilt of the sword, but a live current is still running through it from the cut wires. ”You cheated me out of my prize, you wretched girl!”

An annoyed Portia kicks up a sandstorm with her boots, covering Duchess with it. ”It was supposed to be my trophy!”

Minutes trickle by during Portia’s tantrum and wandering, she is waiting for the next one. But nothing. Not one soul has moved. No flames have danced around her. Nothing. Total nothingness. Just the consistent frequencies from a band that is playing on the stage. The VIP lanyard still hangs from her neck, she tugs at the laminate card. ”Is it just me left?” She asks no one, there’s no one here to answer her. It is her time to get on stage, to be the VIP that she has fought so hard to be.

The exit is clear, it opens in front Portia, she is the last one standing. She has her prize. Oxygen in her lungs, blood pumping through her veins and a smidgen on sanity.

”See Limp Rat, I am getting out of here!” Portia doesn’t look back. Her way out is ahead. The music quietens, it welcomes her. It is time to chant her name. To wear her crown. Portia Maybach is free…

The end of Portia Maybach.

Thank you Dars for the information on Duchess's end <3 </3