Kill You Maybe [Day 2]

[Spesh]

Ever since my kill yesterday, I’ve been on a high of sorts. I’ve almost been able to forget about the scratching at my throat. It isn’t that bad yet, but I know it is there and I am starting to feel it more and more. Every time I try to talk, it takes me a few seconds to moisten my mouth, and my lips are easily cracking because of the heat. It’s not a pretty picture.

LeBlanc will think I’m ugly if I let him see me. I don’t let him see me though, I keep him in my backpack overnight so he get lost. Of course, it would be hard to get lost where we are, just a few hundred yards away from the cornucopia, the big, golden, Horn of Plenty shining in the distance. Obviously, all of the supplies are gone. We could have stayed and taken them for ourselves, but we did not want to risk a stray attack killing one of us, so instead we let others have it.

That, it turns out, may not have been the best plan. Barely anyone is dead, that was obvious when the anthem got played in the night sky. I made sure to catch all the faces, especially the one that I killed. I got to take my final glance at the image that will always be ingrained in my mind no matter how long I live.

Since the morning came, we’ve been on guard, waiting and waiting for something to come into view or for a mutt to attack. So far, neither of those things has happened, and I would be willing to start a fire and maybe boil some water. I glance at the rest of my alliance, and though nobody says anything, I think they all believe setting up a fire now would be futile and counterproductive. We want the element of stealth on our side. Right now, hiding in the bushes, we are going to be able to take out multiple tributes with ease.

Today is just as hot as yesterday, maybe even a little hotter. This place is paradise, and it is especially ideal for District Four tributes with all of the water surrounding this mainland. There is something about all of that water, just something that exclaims danger, something that keeps me out of it. Sure, bathing would be wonderful, but risking getting attacked by fish? Hell no! I’m just fine staying out of the water.

Though I do love the heat, the ground near the cornucopia is much hotter against the armored boots I am wearing than the ground was near the stream yesterday. Even though it is only early in the morning, I can already feel the heat being absorbed by the metal and making my socks damp due to perspiration. In fact, my whole body is sweating, which I guess is a good sign, since I am still somewhat hydrated.

I think that after the craziness of yesterday, everyone who I’m with would hope for an easy and quiet day. Yet the Gamemakers can’t be happy with the limited deaths on day one, so I am sure they will bring us together with some other tributes, or they will force some mutts onto us, that is for sure.

Wait, just now I see some motion. I wait and see that it is tributes, then I spring out of the bushes, pole out in front of me, charging in for the attack.

[Attacks Killian (sorry broski) w/ Pike]
[dice=200+3000]
[Block]

It turns out to be the boy that was dazed and sitting next to a coconut yesterday. Somehow, he now seems less dazed and he blocks my spear thrust. If only I was quieter and smaller, like little Mahlah, then I would have gotten in a good attack like she did. Maybe I'll use that strategy in the future.

[rand=1841694805771112473728533927351244754946457687765423609577072784305]

[sbeeg]

Mahlah Shea

Out of all the things Mahlah Shea had to do on her first day in the Arena, sleeping was the hardest. Maybe the cause of her sleepless night was her break down in the ambush on the District Eight girl. Or perhaps it was the anthem flashing in the sky right before they stopped to rest. The District Eleven girl's eyes staring down at her, cursing her for her death. Curled up with her alliance, she still felt exposed to the dead girl's gaze until the next tribute took her place in the sky. Through the night they had each taken shifts for watch. Every one seemed as restless as Mahlah- Elon especially. During her watch she had sat beside him, her hand lazily holding on to his. It was a habit now, perhaps a bad one to develop. However, Elon was her rock and she felt better knowing he was near. Maybe, she though his presence would keep the bloody images at bay.

In the morning they all fell into their regular routine of hiking. Hardly a day in the Arena and Mahlah had her fair share of walking. Naturally, Elon and herself walked together and Jae and Walker took the front and back. It was an unspoken agreement between them and it suited her just fine. Elon gave her hand a squeeze, his fingers nearly crushing her thin ones, before picking out the roots of some plant along the trail they were blazing. He was good with plants, maybe they worked with them in District Ten more than Mahlah was aware of. He passed her a handful of roots just like the day before and she took them, trusting him completely. They tasted different from the others, but she liked the change. They had a sharp tang to them and it made Mahlah's mouth water.

Chewing away she did not notice anything was amiss until Elon went still. Her eyes went to him straight away, noticing every little change his body. It was oddly quiet and her body quickly went completely on guard. The second she caught his fingers going for his weapon, Mahlah did the same. Her switchblade popping out at almost the exact moment Elon drew his dagger.

[Attacks Killian (DDDx) with switchblade]
[dice=200+2000]
[ Deep Gash on Back of Head -- 9.0 damage]

[rand=49126413697376851838089821394533942961510736495322122374083846807]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

The night was unkind to all of us, each taking a watch shift. I don’t know if either Mr. Liggens or Mr. Moreno slept. I feel fairly confident that neither Mahlah nor I did, although we made a good show of it. The exhaustion already weighs in my muscles. It feels like my body is fighting me, willfully, as we move. I’ve been banged up plenty before, sure, but it’s a taste of the end that is coming all too soon. My fingers won’t grip as hard as I know they can around the knife, my legs won’t carry me as fast as they should. It makes me a target, this weakness. I’m sure the other tributes can smell it on me. And there’s nothing I can do about it, other than sew my stitches more tightly next time, keep my head down and keep moving.

I want to run right out of this arena. As we walk, I’m pretty sure I hear waves not too far away. Something crashing, at least. I’ve never seen the ocean and yet it calls to me. I can see what Sawyer and Alexander found in it: solace. Although I’m glad it’s warm, if I am going to drown, instead of slipping below the ice. But I’d have to get to the water for that to happen, and right now, that’s looking like a very slim possibility.

Instead, I have to trust in those around me. Mr. Liggens, Mr. Moreno, and tiny Miss Shea who has shown more bravery than the three of us combined. I squeeze her hand tightly, hope that I’m not hurting her fingers. I can feel the roughness where the back of the arrow sat, and I know a balm back in Ten that would fix it. But not here. I can provide something else though, something I used thousands of times with the little ones: distraction. As I did before, I look for one of the hundred plants I know, and then tenderly draw the root out of the ground. This one is more bitter than the first, but also juicier. The taste fills my entire mouth, destroys the tang of blood.

It gives my mouth something else to do than talk, than grinding my jaw with worry. I give it a few moments, just to be sure it won’t instantly kill someone, and then I pass a handful of the roots to Mahlah. As has become our custom, we walk in sync, letting Mr. Liggens and Mr. Moreno range ahead and behind. It’s an unspoken agreement and sometimes we end up in a pack, especially when the wind picks up and makes it difficult for us to discern the rustle of leaves from the pluck of a bow. It’s quiet now though, too quiet. The root is dead in my mouth as I draw my dagger from its sheath.

[[ Elon attacks Killian; dagger ]]
[dice=200+2000]
[Block -- 0.0]

[rand=790443118821572432728844523098888251134766215297008655073694223]

[∂αмєη]

[7D7A6F] [6D6165] [AD9EA3]

It finally wore off once I woke in the morning. No more dizziness that seemed to make the world spin faster than normal. No more blurring in my vision that obstructed the path before me. It had been difficult to identify the faces in the sky, not only because it seemed like my vision was ruined but also because I couldn't tie any of the faces to memories from before entering the arena. I just went off of what I believed was in the sky. Seven faces appeared, one of them being my District partner. I didn't know her very much so it hadn't bothered me to see her sparkling eyes staring down at me in the night. Her face was the only one I recognized. I'd feel terrible if I hadn't. Everybody else was just a number. One less tribute to kill, I suppose. Although, would I be doing very much killing.

My body ached from the rough sleep. After having spent so many nights in such a luxurious bed and having to switch to the ground, I certainly could feel it. My body feels stiff and in all honesty, I probably won't be very useful if I'm in this condition. So for the next while, I find myself stretching my muscles and working up my heart so I'm able to run if need be. After all the running yesterday, I am absolutely sure I will need to be ready today. Who knows what I might run into today. Who knows if I'll need to be absolutely ready to do anything to save my life. It's an idea that makes me hold onto my knife even tighter. Who knows what will be around the next corner of the arena, whether it be a tribute, a mutt or a completely new surprise that the Capitol has cooked up for all of us tributes.

Jana's nice, to say the least. I mean, it's easy to talk to her about simple things. Most of our conversations have been about useless topics that we would never actually care about, but it's what works. I really don't think I'd want to tell her very much on the serious side. That way if I die, it wouldn't affect her too much. That is, if she started to actually care. It's surprising how fast you try to make friends out here. In reality, the person standing beside you could slit your throat in an instant. It really is something that people attempt to ignore. The person beside you could be the last thing between you and your life and yet you're bringing them closer and closer. It's why I don't open up to Jana Hale. It's why I won't, even if I'm breathing out my final breath.

The weather is extremely humid today. At least for me. I'm a big fan of colder weather and so anything too high just doesn't sit right. My skin burns whenever I accidentally brush it and I can see a light red colouring that has now formed. Maybe the sun was a lot hotter than I thought yesterday. And if I keep out in the sun today too, it will only get worse. The bright light in the sky seems worse today or maybe it's just because I don't have any water. Water would definitely be nice. My throat has already started to dry out and my voice has become slightly hoarse. If I don't get anything soon, the affects of dehydration will start to set in, surely. And with the sun burning high in the sky, it will only get worse. That would be a dumb way to die in an arena filled with teenagers that are slowly becoming more and more bloodthirsty.

We near the horn with each step we take. In fact, in only a few steps, we'd be finding ourselves close enough to touch it. But I stop in my tracks. Mostly because I hear bushes rustle behind me but also because I can hear the noise of a weapon swinging through the air as it nears my ear. Throwing my body around, I manage to knock the spear away with my crossbow. It has been strapped to my shoulder since I woke up and now it actually manages to get in the way of my body and the spear. Hmm. Maybe it was useful. The knife will always be better though, in my opinion. So I raise it up to protect myself again. But this time, I have no crossbow blocking my body. Some girl's knife cuts deep in the back of my head and I feel a rush that nearly sends me toppling over. Luckily, I maintain my balance enough to throw my knife up in the way of another attack. Jana still remains unharmed.

They are the people that attacked me earlier during the bloodbath. They must really want me dead. Each one of them stands out in my mind, another sign that the effects of the coconut hitting my head are starting to go away. Which is a good thing. I really doubt I could swing very well if I didn't have all of my senses working as best as they can. Even out of the concussive state I find myself slightly misjudging distances. But this is important. This is my life. The pain in the back of my head matches the one on my arm and if I don't do something about it soon, I'll be finding myself with a lot more. Potentially too much to handle. I lock my eyes on the same one as before and then I lunge forward, slicing with my knife.

[[Elon ; Knife]]
[dice=200+2000]
[[2088 -- Deep Gash on Left Forearm -- 8.0 damage]]

[rand=436688283458352112895773933269083392446977319195875778016629628837]

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

We're the lifers here till the bitter end
Condemned from the start

[/i][/font][/right]

I'm glad that sleep refuses to arrive, because I think I might dream of evil parrots. Night falls, and when it does, all color is virtually gone from what's left of my vision. I have to lay on my left side, the side the parrot clawed at so viciously, to see even a hint of a shadow in the low light. When the anthem pops into the sky, I sit up and stare at the faces of the dead, counting, still analyzing. Seven gone in one day. Fewer than last Games, but not bad.

I'm just happy it wasn't me.. only my eye.

As much as I don't want it to get to me, the loss of sight, the great stinging pain, reminds me (as if it weren't obvious) that something is missing. A part of me is heartbroken - I was to be left untouched. Is it not the plan of every Career to make it in and out of the Games nearly unharmed, with their limbs and vision and everything still intact, so one might go back to normal and forget it all, save for the fantastic glory?

I won't be like that now.

Will I die? The thought, a few days ago, seemed preposterous. I lived it, breathed it, strutted around death until I was nearly controlling it. I took down one, two, three, four - lost count, really, of how many have gone because of me. I was a magic man, convincing everyone how weak I am. But I'm not weak, not at all. Still, this thought of death.. it's more real now.

I close my eye, try to fall asleep, but then somebody touches my shoulder, gently maybe, but the touch spreads like fire through my limps and I race up, my heart thrashes in my chest as a burst of adrenaline has its way with me. I almost, almost pick up my anchor and swing it at my ally. Then the color (however dreary the night sky is) floods my sight, and oh, I almost don't notice that something is off, for a moment. I sit myself back down and practice holding my eye closed, then throwing it open again, savoring the sudden flash. I do that for a good while, for who knows how long, until I stop to watch the moon.

I have never been this alone, and it bothers me. At first, I think maybe I am only missing my eye, that perhaps nothing else is the matter. Then, I realize, this is the first time in years where I am truly alone with my thoughts. Sure, there's the shower, the moments before sleep, the dull moments chewing away at candy bars at work. This is different. I am alone with myself with nobody to stare at me, and I doubt the cameras care at this hour.

Who am I?

But I don't care. I'll have plenty of time to figure that out when I get home, when the victor crown is set atop my head and I won't pretend for anyone, because I will be Jae Moreno, a victor, proud and strong, and nobody in the world will doubt it.

When day slowly peeks out from the dark, I'm still awake. I watch as the others rise, holding their heads up, realizing we're still in this place if they ever fell unconscious in the first place. I would have liked someone to talk to.. no. No, nevermind. I would not have said anything at all.

I don't know what I am to them, this beast, standing tall above their heads, my anchor hanging from my hand. Who knows anymore? I've lost track of who I'm pretending to be some time during the night.

I don't eat anything, and I don't drink. What a waste - I'll need these things in a few days, when I am dying of thirst.

"What should we do?" I ask, but nobody answers. We all just sort of collectively stand and start moving, closer and closer to the Cornucopia. There isn't an exact goal to our movement. Tributes will be everywhere, at any moment, and right now the game is staying alive and avoiding them. Yesterday was so hectic, but today is a lazy Saturday (though I'm wide awake, and it's definitely not Saturday) and all I want to do is slog through the sand and wake up from this dream and all of its questions.

Who am I?

I don't care. Nope.

I try slapping myself, once, on the right side where the flesh isn't torn. The wound still stings, and I find I like the pain - I worry about it instead, pulling the eyepatch from wound and pressing on it in certain places as a distraction.

He is weak.

The thought jumps at me, and I smile. I shouldn't smile, but I do - thoughts come back more clearly, the persona I meant to hold, and the way I should act.

Strut. Hold your head up. Don't pick at your eye. Smile up at the sky.

Walker, all of a sudden, rushes forward. My head twists to see what he sees, a glob of an alliance in the distance.

A distraction!

All of a sudden, I force myself to think differently again. Think small. Think weak. Think invisible. I trail behind the pack, fading away into the background, as they all slash their weapons toward the boy we ambushed yesterday. I follow, because now I am a follower, the kind of person who sobs and holds his head low in submission, and I follow them like a robot, swinging my anchor up,up, up and then down in a quick movement.

[Attacks Killian - Anchor]
[dice=200+12000]
12145 -- Block -- 0.0 damage


[/color][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]



[rand=724398978423588269457102296971537506886438479651705793150896115]

[gxk]

The golden horn loomed in front of Jana. Something had possessed her and Killian to return to the place where the Blood Bath had occurred not even twenty-four hours ago. This place stole her voice from her throat. Everything was so still and quiet. Not so long ago the air had been poisoned with the sound of clanging weapons and screams of pain. Red marks smeared along the sad. Blood was thicker than water. Even in the beach like arena it had not washed away. The sights her eyes showed her felt thousands of miles away. As if Jana weren’t even here, she was watching everything from above. But she was here. It was all too really. A pale hand clutched the bicep of her other arm, it still hurt. The dagger had dug in quite a ways. The boy who attacked her could have done much worse than he did. His attack was misplaced, a painful but far from fatal blow. And the archer. The arrow had barely skimmed her. It was all just proof of how these kids weren’t killers by nature. They were confused and scared out of their tiny minds. Jana was scared. She felt like a deer from back home, with sixteen, no, seventeen wolves all around her. The fear crept up her back, making her shiver. It took her a moment to settle the unrest that was starting to pull her under.

Glancing at Killian she still found no words to say. This whole place seemed like a giant funeral. Funerals were somber events; there was no talking, no laughter. But… Killian was kind. In the short time she’d known him he’d never made a single move to hurt her. Still he didn’t trust her, but that was natural. Jana wasn’t sure she trusted herself to be quite frank. Skittish and moods always changing she was not an easy person to be around. They had been able to make some small talk, but not much more. She hadn’t shared that she’d lost her first love to the Games, was raising a friend’s child who would now be all alone in the world. It was too much to dump onto someone who would soon lose their life. But Killian wouldn’t be alone when he died, there would be twenty-three others joining him, Jana included. When you’ve grown up poor with no luck, and no hope, you become realistic. She’d never killed in her life. She didn’t hurt a single person Day One of the Games. Simply shoved a girl to the ground. Harmless. But that was the plan all along. Don’t be a threat, don’t receive a threat.

Guilty gnawed steadily at Jana. Her silence had to have been bothering Killian by now. Probably he was questioning her motives. Nothing she could say would assure him she had no ill intentions toward him. It was nothing more than a lack of words. Like the dagger from yesterday had cut her vocal cords not her arm. Just say something… That was all she had to go. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, a tiny sound started to come out, only to be interrupted by the sound of approaching danger. Instead of bolting away she felt like she was locked in place. Her legs stubbornly refused to budge. Four. Four tributes with no noticeable wounds. This was bad, very very bad. Why wouldn’t they just leave them alone? Their attacks started in an instant. Once again Jana was not the target. They pounced on Kilian. She was a girl barely over five feet, and he was a boy who had survived their previous attempts on his life. It was obvious who they would go for every time. But they should be going after her too… She was still here. Doing what? Nothing. What the hell kind of partner was she. It was several moments before she regained the ability to move. She shook her head, her voice weak and crackling, ”Leave us alone… There must be someone else you can kill.”

The one boy stuck out to her. Jae, she thought his name was. Something about him bothered her. He was the bother of the one who made it so close to surviving… But he didn’t. Pity filled her heart. Poor kid lost his brother. And now he was going to die here too. Or maybe he could finish the job his brother had failed at. He even smelled like a career. The attacks on Killian were relentless. Her anger started to flare. They were like vultures tearing at something already dead. ”Get away!” Her voice hit a piercingly high note. Her switchblade drawn, and eyes closed the motion she made could hardly be called an attack. Still she felt the small blade make some sort of connection to human flesh.

[attacks/flails at Jae]

Switchblade: [dice=200+2000]

Deep Gash on Left Calf -- 8.0

[rand=9288831162266433769432356115430671386150526814160943585077766329]

[Spesh]

Fighting and killing is getting more and more fun. Fighting keeps getting harder and harder to stay away from because of the lure of killing. My weapon is never far from my grasps because of the lure of killing. In that way, I’m the spear-point of our attack, literally and figuratively. I am always ready at the slightest of warnings, and when I spring to attack, everyone follows me. It’s like I’m the one hitting the switch, I’m the one who is in control of everything that we do as an alliance.

I like the power it comes with.

More than anything, I do it for LeBlanc. I know he enjoys it as much as I do. I know by his shudders of delight when I thrust my spear into somebody’s body. LeBlanc and I, we both love the feeling of power, and that is why we both love each other, that is why we have to attack and keep fighting.

Somehow up to this point I still have not been touched. Everyone must find me really, really intimidating, otherwise they’d attack the boy from District Nine. Even Stark, that badass girl from District One, didn’t attack me. It was like we had some untold agreement. As long as I was helping her weed out the little failures and weaklings, we would not come to fighting each other. I wonder where she is right now? She was a great fighting partner, better than Elon, who has sucked, Mahlah, who has been lucky, and Jae, who has an anchor as his weapon. I’m the only one worth anything in this alliance, I’m the only one who can take killing and enjoy it like a real man. Hell, I should go and run off and just do this by myself, it would be the easiest way to win. Nobody would be stepping on your toes.

No I can’t. No, I wont. Even these misfits could take me out three versus one. Surely they would hunt me, too. They don’t want a threat like me running doing as he pleases; they only have me in the alliance to prevent me from doing anything stupid like that.

Of course, we all ended up failing with our weapons, doing a terrible job. All of us but Mahlah. It seems her streak of luckiness is continuing. She may be the first in the arena with two kills. I don’t know how I can assume that, but the scream I heard last night from the ocean didn’t seem to come from humans killing humans, it seemed to come from something much bigger. I think I’ll avoid the large body of surrounding this island. It just doesn’t seem like a good idea going in there, it seems like it would mean sudden death.

Believe me when I say that I currently have zero intentions of dying. All humans that come in my way besides Mahlah, Elon, Jae, and Stark I have intentions of bringing a quick, swift, and very painful death to. Why would weaklings deserve anything else? It is pathetic that they all have to go and run away. The whole games would be easier and more interesting if all the weak idiots just died leaving the strong ones to duke it out for a few days.

But all the idiots want to prolong their idiotic lives.

That’s what I was like back in the Capitol. That was how I got a two in training. I sure as hell showed the Gamemakers what the hell I am about with that first ruthless kill. Even though we’re in combat, I chuckle at the thought. That they could think me weak, when clearly I am so strong. Just based on size alone I should have received a seven. A gentle giant? Ha. That isn’t me and never was, the Gamemakers were just to coddled and babied to see it.

Focusing back on the fight, the two ‘weaklings’ we attacked yesterday and now again today seem to be doing pretty well. It’s because they’re cornered and they know it.. They know that they are going to die. They know that I am going kill them.

It is comforting really, that they will be suffering at my blade in no time, that they will absolutely be dead, with their only memories resting in that one sad glance shown in the projection. I’ll laugh at them too, one more step towards my destiny of winning.

Then, to make things even more comical, the girl starts to beg for mercy, not unlike what I was doing just a few days . She pleads, “Leave us alone… There must be someone else you can kill” I scoff. This girl just like all the others has to die. It is all part of the game of life and death known more formally as the Hunger Games. She continues at an extremely high tone, ”Get away!” It takes all of my willpower to not crack up at her at first, but them she takes a good gash out of Jae’s calf and I figure she means business.

“Yeah, little girl, there are others we can kill, and there were others we were planning on killing, but you guys just showed up and were in the right place at the wrong time to be killed…. And trust me, once we’re done with killing you and you’re little love-buddy here, we’ll go away and let the hovercraft pick you up and take you out of here. That’s really what you want, isn’t it? To be with your little District Twelve buddy forever and ever.”

I thrust at the boy’s chest, smelling blood in the water just like a shark. He’ll, I’m like a shark, a killing machine.

[Attacks Killian w/ Pike]
[dice=200+3000]
[Shallow Cut on Right Bicep | 3.5]

The boy manages to slide out of the way of a blow that surely would have killed him. It’s frustrating, but I know that I’m bringing the boy closer to his imminent death. I know he can’t run either, because I’ll catch him. I smile again, and I’m sure if the boy sees it, he’ll understand just how done his life is.

[rand=036099395714700227608567229472101217922014649957426667927759699523]

[sbeeg]

Mahlah Shea

The tiny girl was actually able to find some pride in the fact that her attack was the only one that hit its target out of her alliance. It was a good one to and she had to look away before it started to gush blood. His head... she hit him the head. Her eyes were trained on the grass and the girl could hear the others grunting and slashing at one another. She couldn't look at the blood, could she? Maybe land a hit but not see its effects? That's not how life works though. You always end up facing the ripples you make. You have no choice. Mahlah thought she had a choice, until she heard it.

A cry, nothing loud merely a gasp. However it was the pain in the voice and the familiarity of it that made her head snap up. "Elon," the name was on her lips before she even realized it. His arm had been slashed, a long gaping wound like lips twisting into a bitter smile. She had not caused this pain but she saw the effects of it. Blood started pooling in the cut and spilling over, dying his fair skin red. Elon's arm looked like it was crying blood- the tears dripping into the grass. The color drained from Mahlah's face, but she couldn't look away. Elon is hurt. My brother is bleeding.

Her eyes were finally able to move, only to land on the cause of her brother's pain. The boy from Twelve. She had already broken his wrist and sliced open the back of his head. Could she cause him anymore pain? Yes. He hurt Elon, her rock, her anchor in these Games. No one was getting away with that.

[Attacks Killian w/ switchblade]
[dice=200+2000]
[Shallow Cut on Right Bicep -- 3.5 damage]

[rand=00247018318623304376555790316779166888712941901758313399766269139946]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

[/size][/ul][rand=65830104867927731683266125619411575009262189269078834436440374702]

[∂αмєη]

[7D7A6F] [6D6165] [AD9EA3]

Is this really it? Is all of it coming to an end so quickly? To think that everything I had put in to yesterday would come to an end so quickly was just depressing. Although, did I really think I'd make it very far? To be entirely honest, I was already ready to die as soon as that gong had gone off. It surprised me when I managed to get away from that bloodbath and to keep away from too many fighting. So far, I was doing better than I thought I would. Much better. My face was supposed to be in the sky last night and now it will be in the night sky tonight. At least I made it further than Abri. And seven other people. That's good, right? Yeah, that's the best I could do I suppose.

But it's not over yet. It's never over until the cannon goes. And as far as I'm aware, my cannon hasn't gone yet. There's a bit of adrenaline that's now pumping through my veins and I can feel it getting stronger and stronger. Whether it's from the pain or from the realization that this could be it, I find myself getting more and more pumped. It's almost impossible to stay rooted in one spot and so I bounce up and down on my feet, trying to keep as agile as possible. There's an anchor that comes near me, used by none other than Jae, and I just barely keep it from colliding with my body. It brings a little chuckle from my lips that's barely loud enough for me to even notice. Still, I can feel the breath escaping from my lips just as there's a sharp pain along my right arm. It's followed by a similar pain right nearby coming from the knife of the girl. Bitch.

I turn my attention finally to Elon. It's an unlucky move for me as I find my stomach being filled with the alien feeling of a blade. Time appears to freeze in that moment as I can't really move anywhere. All that I can see is the detail in Elon's face, down his neck, across the broad shoulder and down his arm. And right into my stomach. The knife slowly comes out as I step back, bringing my hands to the wound immediately. I want to drop down to my knees and to just die right there but then they would all converge on Jana. That wasn't something that I was about to let happen. I couldn't just let her get attacked by these four like I was during the bloodbath. So I stay standing, even though my strength is slowly draining out. I suppose I could swing a few more times before using up all of my energy. But the fourth blow still remains. I know it's bound to come. My death is near.

Which is why I slip the crossbow from my shoulders and throw it in the direction of Jana. The bolts follow soon after. It's a hasty move and hopefully she catches on but just to make sure, I prepare to speak. It comes out as a mere whisper at first but my throat finally allows a bit of sound to arrive. "Run." That's all I can say. There isn't much else that I can tell the girl that I've only known for a few hours. And yet here I am, ready to let her live for at least another day in exchange for my life. My grip tightens on the knife as a tear builds up in my eye. No matter how many times I've had to witness pain in my life, nothing has ever been equal to this moment. It's as if my stomach doesn't even exist at this point. My whole body feels like that even. And yet I'm still speaking the word for Jana. "Run."

I'm not even sure if she does. The last thing I consciously did was step forward and raise my knife, hoping to distract them so that my ally could make it out alive. And maybe it worked. Maybe it didn't. All I saw was the boy from Nine lunge forward, his spear becoming closer and closer. And then everything went dark after I heard the sickening sound of metal tearing through flesh. His metal. My flesh. There were a few moments of terrible pain and then everything was fine. Just darkness. Only darkness. That's all there ever would be. But maybe my sacrifice was essential. Perhaps it was what Jana needed for her to be able to win these Games. One thing they tried to drill into your head while training to be a Peacekeeper was that your fellow officers were your life. They were your backbone, essentially. And sometimes you had to be willing to take a bullet for them. Here's me taking one for Jana. It's the least I could do. She saved my life, really. She didn't have to work on my wounds and she certainly didn't have to drag me away from the group that attacked us.

Run Jana. Just keep running. It's what I've been doing. Running from my father and mother and all the things that they did to me. Running away from the past that I don't want to face. I still don't want to face it. I never will if there is any sort of afterlife. Which I've always been told there was. And yet all I feel is darkness. It's how my life has been. No light in my life. I've been running away from that darkness only to find myself being embraced by it. The irony in that. And now, it's too late to fix things. Too late to do anything about the shitty life I had. The only thing I will ever be is a face on TV and a body in the ground. I wonder if my parents are crying. I wonder if they actually care. And I wonder if District Twelve will be proud of me. Probably not. But maybe District Seven will. Cause if things work out the way I want them to, Jana will be gone. She'll be running. Running for her life instead of away from it.

And now I'm done running. Because there's no where to run to. Only darkness. Just darkness.


[[gave permission to Spesh to have Walker kill Killian and he has given permission to me to write that in my post]]

[Lulu]

Okay, whoa whoa whoa, hold on, this is absolutely not how this is going to be done. I have no idea where the two of you got the idea that it's okay to assign someone to kill your tribute, but it absolutely does not work like that. Killian is still alive, and Jae has the next attack. Walker has not killed him. You both have been around long enough to know like something like this isn't allowed to happen.

[/size]

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

We're the lifers here till the bitter end
Condemned from the start

[/i][/font][/right]

Thinking small and weak doesn't do me any good. I can't sink into the background, hiding completely like I do at home, because these are the real Games. Tributes must die in an orderly manner; kills can't happen carefully or subtly. It's blatant, it's bloody, and if anybody gives a damn about their fellow tributes, I won't be one they give mercy. My name has ruined me, hasn't it?

So a blade slashes through the flesh on my left leg, something that I don't expect.

Step back, step back, I think, flopping backwards as my focus shifts down to the pain ripping through my calf.

"Fuck." Blood trickles out of the wound, but the world doesn't stop because of my pain. My allies rush around me, bringing their weapons back and forward at the dying guy, whatever his name is. Who is he? I recognize his face, but his name.. not so much.

I'm back away from the group, my blood dripping down my leg and into my boot. It's warm, and it squishes when I shuffle forward, putting my weight on the other leg to avoid the pain.

Who cares if he dies? Nobody will care if I die. I feel no obligation to spare him, and this is why I swing my anchor forward.

[Attacks Killian - Anchor]
[dice=200+12000]
12086 -- Broken Right Knee -- 7.0 damage

[/color][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]


[rand=426616876945955502560871190662728228777431175176578304577762487744]

[gxk]

When the crossbow and bolts landed at her feet Jana had no idea what to do. Her partner was being attacked, and was giving her his weapon? Still the other tributes ignored her and went for him. Killian collapsed so soon after the fight had begun. Jana was terrified, enraged, and remorseful all at once. Each emotion passing across her face several times. How could someone she just met be leaving her life already… This just, this was too much to handle. Jana could feel herself cracking like a vase a child knocked over. Mentally the seventeen year old was incapable of dealing with this right now. So what does she do best? Run. Run and never look back. The blood from Killian’s wounds continued to flow freely even as life slipped from body. Color left his skin, turning it an angelic, yet disturbing shade of white. It was like watching Dominic die, only this wasn’t over the television. Here in the shadow of the cornucopia Jana was standing beside someone who was dying. If not dead already… Life really was fleeting. Only moments ago her companion was full of strength, and starting to actually speak with her freely. Now he was a corpse. Panic that had set in shortly after the fight began drained from Jana’s body at almost as rapid a pace as blood did from the District Twelve boy’s wounds.

Forest colored eyes were set ablaze as she stared at the four responsible for the recent tragedy. ”Congratulations, you killed a child. You must be so proud of yourselves.” The normally sweet girl’s tone was frigid and biting. To emphasize her point she gave a sarcastic bow. How could anyone do something like this to another human? It was beyond her realm of comprehension. Sure, she’d put a good slash on that Jae boy… But that was different. No, it’s not different. She refused to see herself as low as they were. She’d not killed anyone. The switchblade had hit Jae’s calf, it wouldn’t kill him. Realizing there was still four other tributes staring her down Jana realized the paralysis that had gripped her legs was gone. Run. Run for her life. That was the only way to survive. Staying here would seal the deal of her death. It didn’t feel right leaving Killian here, but nothing in her power could bring him back once the sound of his canon pierced the air. ”Bye Killian. I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to protect you…” With that final whisper to her deceased friend Jana turned to leave, red hair fanning out in the ocean breeze.

There was nothing more to be done here. It was time to move on, and leave this part of the Games behind. Holding on to it won’t do anyone any good. Before turning to leave her eyes lingered on the District Ten boy and the girl, they seemed attached to each other. With a shake of her head Jana was off like shot. Once again immensely thankful for her stamina, and powerful leg muscles. She’d said it again and again. She wasn’t a gifted fighter, but she was strong and could watch out for herself. As soon as she was out of the reach of these monsters she’d tend to her own still healing wounds and look after herself. Killian was dead because she was still alive, and that would haunted her dreams for the rest of her life, however short that may be.

[Jana has fled the fight]

[Jana uses first aid on herself for -3]

[Spesh]

Not mine

No, the kill of the boy who I believe to be from District Twelve was not mine. Right when I was loading up to attack again, career boy Jae Moreno goes and breaks the kids leg, sapping away any of the life he had left. What an asshole, taking my kill! This isn’t even about the sponsors that would come with having two kills. I swear it’s not. Instead, this is about him taking what would have been joyful for me as his own.

I doubt he even enjoys it.

The boy really was a waste of a kill. He was ding and an easy target. Why even plan to hit the boy with your first landed attack in practically the whole Hunger Games, Jae Moreno, when if you hit the girl she would still be here and we could be killing her? The answer is simple enough to me: Jae Moreno is afraid of killing. I almost spit in disgust at the notion, but my lack of fluid prevents any moisture from coming to my mouth.

Jae Moreno wasn’t in the clearing for my kill, but just based on my actions and demeanor afterwards he should have known I enjoy it, he should have let me take this kill. In my anger at Jae, I completely ignore what the girl says and don’t see her until she is far enough away to not catch. Despite this knowledge –and after a glare at Jae, which I doubt he notices – I take off after the girl who has seemingly got away.

Once I’m just into the trees, my vision of everything changes. I’m on a ranch, probably District Ten or something like that, and I see something awesome. I whisper to LeBlanc, ”I Think we found you some friends.” Despite LeBlanc having absolutely nothing in common with these beautiful cattle other than his beauty, I’m sure he’ll make great friends with them from inside my backpack.

Running over to the cattle, I start petting one, “Hey Bessie, you’re alright. I’m not going to kill you for food, why would I do that?” My tone is sweet, almost tender. Hopefully LeBlanc wont get jealous, he’s still going to be number one in my heart. I make sure to whisper over my shoulder, ”Don’t worry, LeBlanc, these heifers will never ever overtake you in my heart.” Bessie looks up and me and makes a cow noise. I chuckle and keep patting her.

Bessie has a weird feel to her, almost like sand. No, that’s impossible. I’ve never touched a cow before in my life, but I’m pretty sure they don’t feel like sand. Instead of questioning, I climb up on top of Bessie and still, she feels like sand. This is weird. Maybe Bessie isn’t real. No! She has to be real!

This cow is really starting to freak me out. I don’t trust it. ”Bessie, girl, stop feeling like sand.” She makes a cow noise in response so I hit her in the head with my backpack. She starts making more cow noises, but she still feels like sand. ”Bessie, stop right now you FUCKING IDIOT!”
In response to my anger, Bessie makes a questioning cow noise, which further infuriates me.

Naturally, I take my pike out and stab down into the backpack. Then I hear a terrible squeal.

Suddenly, I’m no longer on a cow’s back, but instead on top of a mound of sand surrounded by a few trees. Somehow there is blood coming out of my backpack. I don’t feel any pain, but I check my body to confirm that no, I am not bleeding. This is really, really odd. I didn’t know backpacks could bleed.

Then it hits me…

No, no, nononono! NO! I take the pike out of the backpack, and it is covered in blood. I pause for a second. I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to open the backpack to confirm my fears. There had to be something else in the backpack that could bleed, right? Plants? Bugs? They bleed a lot, I’m sure of it! They also make really loud and painful sounds.

With shaky hands I unzip the backpack. No, this isn’t real. It isn’t. I’m dreaming. I must be. The blood on my fingers as well as the dying yet still beautiful rabbit that I am holding beg to differ. Tears start to form in my eyes, but I wipe them away, refusing to give in. Winning is more important than LeBlanc, I tell myself, yet I do not believe. I wont ever believe it. I can never believe it.

I zip up my bag and put it back over my shoulders. In one hand I hold my pike, in the other, I hold a lifeless LeBlanc. Slowly and solemnly I walk out of the trees and back towards where my allies are stationed. I force myself to not cry, it isn’t worth it.

I can feel the inquisitive eyes of my allies on me as I walk back to them. More likely than not, they are seeing the blood on my pike and wondering why in the world there wasn’t a cannon shot. Instead of waiting, I just man up and say it, “You guys… The girl got away… and… and… I stabbed LeBlanc…” Unless another fight was going on at the time, we are probably the viewing of Panem.

In a stronger voice I manage to say, “While we cook him, we should have a funeral.” Without waiting for any responses, I get started on the fire with some firewood. I start it easily.

Since my fire making skills are so fantastic, I don’t even have to worry about tending to the fire and instead do my best to patch up Jae where he was stabbed. Once I finish somehow tending to Jae with my messy hands, I boil my two jugs of water. I might as well make use of the fire while I have it, I never know when I’m going to be even more alone than I am right now.

I put the two drinkable jugs of water back into my backpack, and then place LeBlanc onto the pike and place him over the fire. “Here cooks LeBlanc, a wonderful Rabbit and the something or other number to die in the 61st Hunger Games arena. He was a great and beautiful rabbit, and he is one to be remembered forever. Rest in peace, LeBlanc.”

When LeBlanc is thoroughly cooked, and I know that he is for absolutely no reason other than knowing, I pull him out of the fire and place him in my bag for consumption or burial later. I let the fire dye out due to the humidity and just sit on the ground, wondering why LeBlanc had to die.

OOC: LeBlanc dies, boils both jugs of water, cooks LeBlanc, does first aid on Jae.

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

[/b]" I say again, because it can never be said enough. I drag up a ghost of a smile and lean forward as she uses my bandana to create a sling around my neck.

By then time we're done both Mr. Liggens and Mr. Moreno have ranged. I hear extended swearing at someone named Bessie (perhaps I haven't memorized all the tributes as well as I thought) as Mahlah and I come around the Cornucopia. It's immediately apparent that Mr. Liggens is anguished, and it doesn't take long for me to understand why. Having a pet in the arena is never a good plan; almost as poor a plan as deciding your allies are your family. I look grimly down to Mahlah, wrap my arm around her slender shoulders and draw her close. I resist the urge to help Mr. Liggens build the fire; this is part of the grieving process. I cannot count the amount of times I've watched children bury birds and beetles, small lives that were loved for the span of a flame.

When Mr. Liggens begins to talks, I edge forward with Mahlah, dropping my hand to grasp hers. "I'll always remember LeBlanc," I say, because it's the only thing I've learned that is always okay to contribute to a funeral. I hate that my voice cracks just a little over the rabbit's name. I wish I had more to offer his pyre (our dinner), but I don't. Instead I reach into my pack with my working arm and draw out the leaves I'd collected. These I pass around so we can have something else to fill our bellies. I'm not sure I can bring myself to eat LeBlanc; not yet. I realize that I'm not even hungry so I give the rest to Mahlah, the lion's share.

The day has faded so quickly; I am shocked by the brilliant sunset as I fold my legs into the sand beside Mr. Liggens. "That was a proper burial." I hunch up my shoulders, try not to think about the boy the hovercraft carried away hours ago. There would be no funeral for him, not here. I hoped there would be in his district. "Seems to me we're doing alright out here." Even though no one was alright. It was the wrong thing to say and I regretted it immediately. But I wasn't sure if Mr. Liggens wanted talking or silence, and there were things I needed to know. "I feel like I keep getting lucky. You're good with that, uhm," And I completely spaced the name of his bloodied weapon. "Spear?"



[[ Elon uses first aid on himself for -3. He also uses a needle and thread for another -5. He then uses the needle and thread for its second daily use on Jae for -5. Elon splits the bundle of edible plants, giving one third to Jae, one third to Mahlah, one third to Walker. He drinks his purified jug of water. I feel like he should do more stuff but my brain is fried D: ]][/ul][/size]