Kissing Death // [ Conqs v. Cipactlii Day 4 ]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

there's a sick little suicide in all that we do
you decide, which one's for you?

Asunder had never passed a more miserable, lonely night in his life. He ached from trudging through the sand, ached from regret and guilt, ached from knowing he'd lost the only people who could have helped him make it home. He'd done it to himself, him and his left two feet and enchanted bow. It rested quietly at his back, balanced by the battleaxe as he continued to use the harpoon as a guide through the roots and sand and bugs. He killed any he saw, which was few after the light slipped away. When the anthem rang out, he used the few precious seconds of light to smash a butterfly the size of his palm, rather than be faced with Emerald.

He would see her in his dreams anyhow.

Asunder bedded down against a damp tree trunk, unable to force himself to better ground, higher ground. He tried leaning against his weapons and backpack, tossed them aside, tried both sides, his stomach. He even tried sitting on his backpack. None of it was even remotely comfortable, but it was a distraction. At last he settled on forming a semicircle of his weapons around him and his backpack in his lap. That way he was sure to stumble over something if something woke him in the night. He stared up at the foliage, unable to see the sky, and traced Emerald's face in the veins of the leaves.

When sleep found him, he already knew what it would hold. He shivered as his dreams transported him back to the lake, put him squarely in front of Emerald, standing, an arrow in her eye. No, not her eye. Owen Rook's. As under tripped, arms grasping around Owen's waist as they both fell into the water. He grabbed at the arrow shaft, pulling, trying to tug it out as they both sank down, down, down...

His tears were salty remnants of the lake as he woke. It might have been minutes or hours, but in either case, it was still dark and buzzing in the arena. Asunder wiped at his face, smeared the tears around as he assured himself the anthem had been too short for more than one face. Much too short. And even if it had not, Owen was strong, Gypsy was strong, Pyrian was strong. They were safe, somewhere. He just had to find them. He gave very little thoughts to his footsteps, tripping and stumbling his way through, making a general ruckus, as he trekked deeper and deeper into the undergrowth. If they had stayed at the lake, he reasoned, he would have found them already. It was smarter to stay hidden.

The sniffles took hold of him an hour before sunrise. He could not control the fluids draining out of his nose, nor the sting in his eyes. He took to stumbling with one sleeve wiping away the snot and the other tears. It was in this state that he broke through the last barrier of knotted vines to behold the Hall, and three small figure ducking inside.

He came to an abrupt halt, feet tangled, and when all at once it hit him that he recognized the gait of the three tributes, he did the only thing that came to him naturally: Asunder screamed. "GYPSY!"

Step, step, stumble, step, step, trip. So went his climb all the way into the Hall, his bent fingers gripped the doorway as he heaved himself inside. "I found you, I got lost, I found -" A creature slithered. "Guess not just you."

[ Asunder attacks Cipactlii #1; battleaxe ]

[dice=200+11000]

[ Shallow Cut on Forehead -- 4.5 damage ]
(Axe)

banner credit: thg's izoe
song: the matches sick little suicide

[rand=8481769319113628516986078877024757083473827612478588956426060879]

[Python]

- - - - - -

Each day brought new pains and a new relief. Two mornings ago he had finally been allowed to quench his thirst with a jug of fresh lake water, but at the price of two knives in his back and a dart to his abdomen. This time he had been rewarded with food - a meager supply of plants, just enough to sustain him for the next few days - but had lost four of his toes in the process, cursing him with gruesome stubs on his feet and the inability to walk without stumbling like a clumsy child. Gypsy had helped dress the wounds and heal them as best as she could with a bit of first aid, and it was enough to make walking a definite possibility. But now I’m going to slow them down. As if a crude point were trying to prove itself, he quickly fell behind Owen and Gypsy as they tried to maneuver out of the labyrinth of thick foliage and strangely-scented flowers. He was using his sword as a pathetic crutch that was too short for his body, forcing him to try and match their pace in an awkward limp that made his wounds burn. By the time they emerged from the suffocating gardens Pyrian was craving a rest, but did not falter as his ally and twin sister changed direction and headed for a large structure that was peeking its golden head above the trees.

Losing the track of death counts and remaining tributes had left Pyrian somewhat perplexed when the district one girl’s face had appeared in the evening sky. He had nearly forgotten that there were careers they needed to worry about, and now he had no idea how many of them were left. He did, however, know that Asunder was still alive somewhere, and that the tension could be eased off of their shoulders as they had dwelled over the absence of a boy whose leg had been crushed into a grotesque mesh of bone and mangled flesh. That meant there were at least five of them left, when Pyrian counted Noah. Six, when he remembered Noah’s red-headed district partner. Seven, when the image of the scorpion girl with a bow between her toes flashed behind his eyelids (could she really breathe fire?). Eight, because he didn’t recall seeing district one appear twice in the night sky, meaning Emerald’s partner was still breathing. Ten, because the naked boy who had spat a dart at his abdomen had unfortunately never appeared above the clouds along with Elodie, the strange girl that had assaulted his body with her hands. Then, of course, there was Ivy, whose presence had slipped his mind up until this point. That makes eleven of us. Only ten more deaths until Gypsy could seize the crown.

With all of the sickeningly familiar faces flashing and twisting in his head his paranoia grew to an ultimate high, and he spent the majority of the journey checking over his shoulders for sneaky tributes and watching Gypsy’s back in case of a sudden ambush. There were no safe houses anywhere in the arena, not even within buildings (the old temple had proven that point days ago), but after trudging for hours through vines that seemed to slither and past burrows where carnivorous moles probably lived, the building ahead of them looked promising. Gypsy was sympathetic enough to assist him in his limping whenever he strayed too far behind, but by the time they arrived at the entrance to the extravagant building he had grown accustomed to the pace and retrieved some of his lost strength. The structure was more massive than he had initially imagined, and nearly blinded him with its reflective shimmers of gold as the sunlight pounded furiously against it. His bad experience in the temple was enough to convince him to retreat, because he knew that anything beautiful in the arena would be an illusion meant to lure unsuspecting tributes into ugly, black claws of death, but this apparently didn’t frighten the three of them. Owen and Gypsy seemed determined to explore the insides of the building, and slipped past the enormous doors as Pyrian tried to battle his own curiosity. We’re on a treasure hunt, he suddenly remembered, the previous clue a distant blur in his mind, and if there really is treasure, it’s gotta be here.

He was right. As the doors creaked shut behind them they were plunged into a wonderland of colors as brilliant as a rainbow and as bright as the stars that twinkled in a black sky. Mountains upon mountains of treasure towered over them as they gawked and stared and smiled at the sight of such wealth. Gypsy was quick to dash forward and claim a few priceless treasures of her own, while Pyrian began to slowly scale one of the thick piles of coins sprinkled with jewels of every color and kind. His eyes found a speckle of red among the endless stacks of blinding gold, and upon closer inspection he discovered it was a ruby encrusted silver ring that slid perfectly onto his finger. There were shapes and figures carved in the sides, one being a flame and the other a dragon with it’s wings extended - both suited him rather well, he thought, and he decided he admired the craftsmanship too much to drop it. He slid down the mound of coins to flaunt his new prize while Gypsy adorned herself in jewelry that was suited only for a true queen. He found himself smiling when the fourth figure suddenly appeared, nearly startling him out of his skin as it barreled toward Gypsy. His heart jumped as if struck by an electric shock and his hand reached for his sword, but he soon recognized the figure as none other than their lost ally, Asunder.

The reunion was brief, if at all comforting, because as soon as Asunder was within ten feet from them two bulky shadows emerged from the corners of the hall - shadows that definitely did not belong to a human. If anything, they were the most terrifyingly monstrous creatures he’d ever laid eyes on. They were giant lizards, it appeared, similar to crocodiles that would be found it wetlands, but there was something extraordinary about them that made him cringe in mixed awe and disgust. Both of them had extra mouths sprouting out of other body parts, each complete with rows of gnashing razor teeth that snapped at them as they slinked their way across the floor. Pyrian didn’t waste another second in staring at the monstrosities; it was obvious that they were dangerous, and they needed to be disposed of before they could take a bite out of his sister. Eyes narrowed, he quickly withdrew his blade and lunged mindlessly at one of the creatures before his brain could remind him of how intimidated he was by the idea of pain, of death, and of being mauled by two crocodiles.

[attacks Cipactli #1 - broadsword]
[dice=200+1000]
[Deep Gash on Right Thigh -- 8.0 damage]

[rand=89904450322501361559682516381144596986570581793794072936261072755]

[aya]

My family tree's
Losing all it's leaves
Crashing towards the driver's seat
The lightning bolt made enough heat
To melt the street beneath your feet

Owen Rook —

[/i][/color]

filler

[attacks mutt 1]
[dice=200+1000]
[sc left shoulder 3.5]
[/size][/blockquote][/justify][rand=01048876391723752311986459651961957696519070304938000525885727257]

[Lulu]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
saw you so still so cold
you lay outside alone
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

As far as money goes, I kinda lived with a foot in both worlds. Dad, a pretty prominent Six scientist, had always had plenty of money, which meant Py and I were pretty privileged when we were livin' with him, not that you would be able to tell from our rambunctious and often unsightly behavior. Our house was furnished with high-end pieces manufactured in District One, and while it wasn't overly lavish, it was definitely a large step up from most of the people in our district. Then there was Ma Keeni's house, which was, in short, a dump. With all the illegitimate kids she'd had there was hardly enough money to pay for food, let alone excess things. Ironically, though, it was the place where I felt most comfortable; I loved bein' surrounded by all my siblings, because life never got dull with them. And if I needed money to buy somethin', that somethin' very frequently bein' cigs, I'd just run across town and steal some money from Dad's "secret" safe (it hadn't been a secret to Py and I for the past five years) to go and buy some, and he'd never even notice it was missin'.

You might wonder why I'm talkin' about money and wealth. Well, it's because that mornin' Py and Owen and I had left the overgrown garden and started to walk, and we'd headed west along the snake pit until finally we reached another strange ancient-lookin' structure, except this one was even more golden than the first. It glimmered beneath the light of the sun and nearly blinded me; I had to put my hand up to shield my eyes. "Here we go again," I muttered as I led the boys in ascending its steps, expecting to be in another sacrificial of sorts like we had been a couple days ago, with pools of eerily fresh blood on the ground. Instead, though, I gasped as we walked through the entrance; surrounding us on three sides were mounds and mounds of priceless treasure. Gold, silver, rubies, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, everything precious metal and dazzling gem you could possibly think of was crammed to bursting within this hall, and i could not contain my extreme bewilderment.

"Home sweet home?" I said with a laugh, plungin' my hand into a pile of treasure and coming out with a golden medallion, emblazoned on which was some sort of circular seal with a skull in the center. I gave a low whistle and gingerly let it fall around my neck; the skull stared up at me from its perch on my chest and I shivered, but with delight, not fear. Something about wearin' it made me feel powerful, more powerful than anyone else in this arena. I found myself wishin' to know its history, where it had come from, who had worn it before me. Had it belonged to a king? A queen? A soldier? Or was it nothin' but a fabricated creation of the Gamemakers, designed to feel authentic but to really be nothin' more than another piece in their Games? I hoped it was , but didn't dwell on it for long; instead, I adorned myself in various other jewels and gems, pretending I was the type of royalty that would store my treasure in a place like this.

All hail Lady Gypsy, queen on the Hunger Games, mistress of ashes and flame.

WIP

[attacks mutt 1, rapier]
[dice=200+1000]
[severed left hand 9]

[/center]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
your eyes were still
open inside you left
on that summer night
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

[/color]
[/size][/center] [/justify][rand=9651332956273109896794487489387414145780541002755381073323078454]

[sadniss everdeen]

.CIPACTLI.

.let the carnage begin.

You lie in the shiny dark with your body sprawled deep under the clinking stones, far far away from the big snake and its mouths that eat all it comes across. You know of devouring, your world consumed by an endless hunger, but it can swallow you without a second thought - those around you were taken whole, gone faster than you could slither away. The runt is the only one that managed to follow you as you slipped into the river, far away from the beast that stalks at all manners of the night. He lies near you now, but the tips of his snout emerging from the little round rocks that are so cool against your scales.

There are others here, just as there were others elsewhere. They invade your homes and drive you from your holes with bright flashing things that sting like the nails those men in white drove into you when you were but a little one, scarcely from your shell. The runt does not remember the pain of your neck splitting open to breathe water into you, does not remember the agony as the teeth came and snapped through your flesh to devour everything you touched, he doesn't know anything about life before your waterlogged homes and before the hunger that wiped away any semblance of thought you might have had. Away from the jungle the familiar bloodlust starts and you crave for their flesh, the sweet blood that extinguishes the burn and allows you to become what you used to be - your snort to him, low and menacing, and your body clanks from under the riches as you slither your way towards the ones with the shining claws and scared, scared eyes.

They hit hard and fast where your jaws cannot reach, stabbing and retreating and puncturing your hide of steel. If you could you would howl, but your mouth is open wide and gaping as you lunge towards the first that would dare intrude your slumber.

[dice=200+2000]
[attacks Asunder, deep gash on calf, 8.0]

Teeth meet flesh to rip but you are otherwise occupied, feeling your tail wrap dangerously around the one who has rent deep into the meat of you, cleaving your muscles from your bone and letting your blood spill upon this unnatural ground.

[dice=200+2000]
[attacks Gypsy, deep gash on left thigh, 8.0]

In the distance, you hear the runt taking your lead and doing the same.

[dice=200+2000]
[attacks Asunder, shallow cut on right shoulder, 3.5]

[dice=200+2000]
[attacks Gypsy, two fingers severed on left hand, 9.0]

Sweet revenge.

[/size][/blockquote]



[rand=772960217112941769988816550870353620964878301000737897794412163355]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

there's a sick little suicide in all that we do
you decide, which one's for you?

The sight of his former allies are a balm, albeit a brief one. All too soon he is reminded of the true nature of the arena: violence.

WIP WIP WIP

[ Asunder attacks Cipactlii #1; battleaxe ]

[dice=200+11000]

[ Block -- 0.0 damage ]

banner credit: thg's izoe
song: the matches sick little suicide

[rand=662878001880702464906926120432534916217951694150739598129759488643]

[Python]

- - - - - -

Whatever relief Asunder hoped to achieve, the creatures sought to destroy with their snatching jaws and whipping tails, because as soon as he stepped into their line of fire they pounced and buried their razor teeth into his flesh, painting the luxurious treasures with a deep scarlet that tainted their worth. Pyrian’s sword struck thick scales as the creature’s thigh spurted with blood while its mouth seemed to devour the back of Asunder’s leg. Their elongated bodies granted them not only the advantage of agility, but of easy access to any ounce of bone that strayed within the radius of their writhing tails, and before Pyrian could process a second’s worth of panic a deep laceration formed in his twin sister’s thigh and her blood came gushing out of it. The sight of her blood decorating the hall of luxury made nausea bubble in his stomach and frost sprinkle his bones, but if anything the flames lying dormant in his blood began to spread, and he refused to let his body rust when his sister was losing her strength to these savage things.

The second beast appeared and vanished in a flash of sickly green and dark scarlet. It left a trail of sticky fluid in its wake, a speckled line that led straight to Gypsy's feet and ended in dripping stumps where two fingers were supposed to be. A horrified gasp lodged itself into his throat as he stared at her contorted expression, mouth agape, blood boiling. Fucking mutts. This routine was wearing him down to his last nerve. Over and over again these freakish beasts kept launching out of dark shadows and secluded corners with fangs, poison, oand claws that tried to skin him alive. His arm was still patched up and healing from their brawl with the jaguars, and the wounds on his foot were still fresh, still seeping blood, still aching painfully with every step from those stupid moles that had burrowed out of the dirt and ambushed him so they could have a snack. Now, mutts were attacking his sister, the future fucking queen of Panem, and Pyrian wasn't having it. He had more meat on his bones, he carried the stench of blood everywhere he walked; why weren't they targeting him? He was easy prey, hobbling around like a clumsy buffoon and waving a sword around like had some sort of right to knightship. He wasn’t asking to be mauled by two ugly crocodiles, but he’d rather them take a chunk out of him than a chunk out of his sister, even if it meant another excruciating night of tossing, turning, and whimpering.

Unfortunately, now it seemed it was a bit too late. They had already bitten away some portion of Gypsy's thigh, and now two whole fingers. Right down to the bone, where he imagined the painful wildfires would scorch the most. He no longer cared if the mutts suffered a gruesome death for their misdeeds; he just wanted to distract them, even if only for a moment, to keep their drooling mouths away from Gypsy. He knew Asunder was in a tangle of turmoil as well, but he wasn't missing fingers. And, make matters a little easier, Asunder had Owen as a partner to help him in case he were to faint or collapse. The pairs may have been divided because of shared blood and unexpected friendship, but that wouldn't stop this wolf pack from giving Panem exactly what it wanted: a show, and a damn bloody one at that. By the end of this day, Pyrian knew at least one of these mutts would lay slain by the entrance of the hall, undeserving of the treasures that would grace it with their golden presence. He didn't even care if he killed it (not that he could), he was just following his own wishes and keeping the promises he made to himself days before he was sent into this hell of a place. Here he was meant to cherish longevity while he could, and protect his twin sister at all costs. Even if it meant a week's worth of agony.

This determination was all he needed to fuel his fire.

[attacks Cipactili #1 - broadsword]
[dice=200+1000]
[Shallow Cut on Left Calf -- 3.5 damage]

[rand=33793441650415745016719840462039892626267983040241428194029220762107]

[aya]

My family tree's
Losing all it's leaves
Crashing towards the driver's seat
The lightning bolt made enough heat
To melt the street beneath your feet

Owen Rook —

[/i][/color]

WIP WIP ugh I wish I didn't need to filler
(first post's WIP log:)

Asunder you are back yay

What the shit Asunder why did you leave me

oh btw Pyrian is missing a lot of toes that sucks

Why are you yelling oh look a slithery thing wtg

yikes it's icky and slithery I should stab it


(second post's WIP:)

Holy shitfuck that thing just eated Gypsy's fingers

lol with Pyrian's toes gone and now her fingers they're still twins kinda

shit they are beating the fuck out of you guys

why the hell am I swearing so goddamn much what the fuck is wrong with me

hey it isn't me getting sliced and stabbed for two days in a row that's excellent yay

well I better finish this bitch off so I can berate Asunder for leaving me I mean us but really me

ok here goes nothing


[attacks CIPACTLI #1 with longsword]
[dice=200+1000]
[Deep Gash on Back of Head -- 9.0 damage]

oh yeah fckyuuu~!

[/size][/blockquote][/justify][rand=05482567334547639701361527666449577648169989697646285718458238989]

[Lulu]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
saw you so still so cold
you lay outside alone
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

It was a sudden onslaught, one ferocious beast after another, charging straight at me with teeth and claws bared. They looked somewhat like crocodiles, but worse; I could almost see the anger in their eyes, as if they had feelings, could think and they wanted me dead. The first one gashed me right across the leg, and that was bad enough. But then the second snapped right at my hand, and I felt the worse pain I'd ever, ever felt before when they sliced through my fingers with the sickenin' sound of flesh tearin'. There was a crunch as the creature chomped on what sounded horribly like bone, and I knew that I'd lost not one, but two, of my fingers.

I didn't have time to dwell on the pain before Owen struck the first beast dead, and I knew I had to get out of there fast. I didn't know how much blood I'd lost, but the red life-liquid was seepin' from my body through my gapin' wounds fast. I'd hardly been hurt bad at all this entire Games, so this was definitely a new feelin' for me. One I didn't like, not in the slightest. "C'mon, guys! Let's get away from here," I called to my allies, and then proceeded to move deeper into the treasure-filled hall, hopin' to hide myself from the mutt behind a pile of gold or somethin' so I could tend to my wounds properly. It really was all fun and games, until someone lost a finger.

[Gypsy uses first aid (hers and Owen's), 5ft bandages, and needle/thread for -9, then flees]

[/center]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
your eyes were still
open inside you left
on that summer night
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

[/color]
[/size][/center] [/justify]

[sadniss everdeen]

.CIPACTLI.

.the final blow.

He falls just as they fell just as everybody fell - his black blood pours upon the shiny stones and casts it all a deep, dark glow, his bloody teeth snapping feebly in the air for a moment before stilling. He was the oldest of your kind, one of the few that remembered Before, and now you are the only one (that you know) who remains. You've done damage but it's not enough, no, not when the one with missing fingers can run without paying for her transgressions, when the one who dealt the killing blow will still escape with nary a wound to his name. The unfairness of it all is startling, you would think if you could... but you're only a monster, made to eat and kill. That's everything you've ever been built for, everything you've known. And so, you do what you're told.

Lunge.

[dice=200+2000]
[attacks Owen, shallow cut on forehead, 4.5]

Blood and bone and tears and you would smile if you could, but it's not over until they retreat into the bright sun again and leave you alone with your shiny treasures that you will guard endlessly until others come find you or you are swallowed whole by the serpent that roams.

[dice=200+2000]
[attacks Asunder, deep gash on left forearm, 8.0]

It's not enough, but it'll have to do.

[/size][/blockquote][rand=8008244642649316667028514983743880994442062992445596541909443505]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

there's a sick little suicide in all that we do
you decide, which one's for you?

The mutts had him pinned against a wall, even as one lay dying. He feinted left, his axe an extension of his arms, of himself. The weight was so familiar, the size and heft of it just like the pickaxes in Twelve. He could still, even in the heat of battle, remember all the days, the years, he'd spent swinging one against rocks. Such practice should have better prepared him to be in the arena. After all, what was fighting but muscle memory? And he could hack away at coal all day. But it wasn't enough. He was seriously out-muscled, and all the could try to do was block. One clash against the teeth of the beast, as he scrambled sideways along the hall.

"I'm not leaving you!" He shouted at Owen. No, he wasn't going anywhere, if the crocodile beast had anything to say about it. Asunder parried, his fingers knotted around the staff of his axe, curled so tight he had lost feeling in his fingertips. He waited for an opening, wondered fleetingly if one mutt would mourn the other, when it suddenly lunged for Owen's head. Asunder's scream was unearthly, high-pitched and screeching. He saw only a rake of blood across Owen's face, his own defenses forgotten as the Cipactli bit down into his left forearm. Somehow, it was always his left forearm.

He gurgled, turning the staff of the axe out with his right arm and forcing himself away from the mutt, deeper into the Hall with his allies. "Owen! Owen! Say something!"

[ Asunder flees.
He gives Owen? Pyrian? 5 ft. of bandages and 1 N/T. ]

banner credit: thg's izoe
song: the matches sick little suicide

[Python]

- - - - - -

Pyrian’s swordplay was of little use in slaying the beast trying to devour his sister piece by piece, but he succeeded in distracting it long enough for her to escape without enduring another violent storm of teeth and iron jaws. He could see the dark trails of her blood like spattered paint against an old canvas of dust and stone, the traces of her fingers having vanished from the carnivorous raid, but although it was her blood spilling and her pain they were gambling he knew she would bear it with a strong heart and invincible will-power. That’s just who she was; a fighting spirit with flames in her heart that would never die, not if Pyrian could help it. His flame, meanwhile, was flickering, fading ever so slightly each time his skin opened and his blood poured. He was weakening as the days lingered and tested his resistance to pain as if he were an elastic band being stretched and twisted until one day he would simply snap. He figured that day would be the day his flame would be smothered, the day that the weariness stretched taut over his bones would finally consume him along with the wounds that would drench him in his own blood. Whatever sort of death awaited him he hoped it would end him quickly, and he prayed it wouldn’t be one of these ugly things that finished him off by grinding him into a wad of disgusting mush.

Thoughts running rampant, he watched Gypsy vanish past the mountains of blinding treasure and exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was keeping when the mutts failed to follow suit. Owen struck one down immediately after, leaving its corpse to rot in the presence of diamonds and emeralds that taunted the poverty-stricken who were surely watching this bloody battle. The brief victory was quickly followed by a retaliation, and Pyrian could only swerve away from the beast as it lunged and caught both Asunder and Owen in an ambush of snapping teeth. One mouth raked its teeth across Asunder’s arm, drawing more rapid rivulets of blood to drip along the corridors, while the other scarred Owen’s forehead and bathed its tongue in iron. Pyrian hastily distanced himself from the ruthless thing and turned to hobble away while his legs were still attached. He failed to meet Asunder and Owen’s pace as they too fled the scene, and trailed behind as he glanced over his shoulder for signs of the beast. Fortunately it was too sluggish to follow, and the mounds of golden treasure were enough to keep them concealed as they stole the opportunity to lose themselves in the giant building of luxuries.

He knew he should’ve been suspicious from the very beginning when strolling so casually into a hall of treasure and delving into its contents without a second thought. The gamemakers were not kind, they would not place such temptations in plain sight without a deadly price. That was how the Games worked; give some, lose some, though sometimes you lose everything. He should’ve anticipated a trap of some sort, or an ambush - something that would counter the beauty of the treasure and leave their bodies either vulnerable or lifeless. After five days of the same routine, however, there was really no need for preparation. They could expect it anywhere, at any time, and today was no different. Today’s encounter had only proven that Pyrian’s injuries were weakening him to a level that was dangerous not only to himself, and it worried him. He was the weakest link in this pack of hungry wolves, and he was going to end up being the first to join the deceased if he didn’t swallow his misery and act like the damn warrior he was supposed to be in this arena. From now on, things need to be different. As he fell behind and took up the rear he silently vowed to be stronger and sturdier than everybody else, until it was his time to hand Gypsy her crown.

He wondered how long he would last until this vow was broken.

[Pyrian uses med plants and 5 ft of bandages on himself, gives first aid to Asunder, then flees]