Landscape {Avon Day 1} // {more travelling}

[gamemaker kelsier]

No nonsense voice
Talking
Doing
Deep thought
Hearing
Singing

Water was the only thing on her mind as she made her way carefully over the sandy dunes, slipping and sliding so many times that she lost count. The only things she really had to help her along were the cleats that she wore as a part of her tribute uniform. It was a pretty handy uniform actually. Whoever had decided on a jumpsuit, made the right decision. Flexible, comfortable, and not too warm or hot. The only thing that really needed to get the fuck out, was the whole shin hurting thing. Then she might even be able to enjoy this lovely weather, and this new landscape. Avon had never been travelling before, and this place was oddly beautiful. Putting emphasis on odd.

The red sand was so loose. She had never run or walked on anything like it before. It felt like there was always a shimmering sheer curtain of it in the air, falling and falling. It was getting into her bag, and sticking to the drying blood on her. It was all over her jumpsuit, the blood. She must be covered in it. Slitting Seepie's throat that first time had sprayed it all over her like a hot shower. It was odd to know that the blood on her didn't belong to her. Of course, she had other's blood on her before. She'd broken someone's nose once, there had been red all in her knuckles and under her nails. She lifted a hand and felt the drying flakes of blood upon her skin. Her whole face was sticky and stiff from it. She must look insane.

That was alright, really. If she looked like some demon animal from hell. Maybe it was better to look like what she really was, instead of just a human girl who was actually very afraid. Every minute, the Avon who never really grew up screamed somewhere inside of her. The young girl was so afraid. She wanted to go home, to see her siblings. She wanted her Daddy. Oh, she wanted to be sitting in her father's library so hard, soft sun kissing the leather chairs. Sometimes the pain of the loss of him was intense that she pushed her head into her pillow. But never cried. Avon did not cry, not ever. It was an unspoken rule it seemed, even as she listened to her siblings cry as they grew up without their daddy. She had heard them through the walls sometimes. Just lied there and listened, her breath all caught up in her chest, but unable to just cry.

But she can't, she doesn't know how. When someone made her they must have removed the tear ducts. Those damned mad scientists and their terrible planning. They should know that their things never went well. Look at Frankenstein for god's sakes. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Good ideas never go well. She thought it would be a good idea to stay in the games and not let someone volunteer. She still thought it was a good idea. But it had only succeeded in digging her further down into her personal hell pit. Don't think about it, please. But the faces of emptiness passed through her head again and again.

It was like they were hiding behind her eyelids, tearing at the muscles inside with their vengeful wrath. They wouldn't get to live a long life, and then die old. Of course, she might not get to either. She had always thought that she'd live to be one hundred years old. She was fit and able enough to live that old. Not anymore though, not anymore. The Landscape was beautiful, sand shifting and shimmering everywhere. But it didn't matter much, she couldn't enjoy it when it was also a death trap. She knew that at any second she could set off a trap. She would be killed by it, there was no question. Well alright, there would be, and she'd be asking it. Clutching Lamp tightly in her hand, she soldiered on to the swamp.