remnant of home :: luci&andy [day 4]

[semper]

when the north wind moans thro' the blind creek courses
and revels with harsh, hot sand,
I loose the horses, the wild red horses,
I loose the horses, the mad, red horses,
and terror is on the land

Everywhere in the spider web forest looks the same. We’ve been walking for what feels like hours and I swear we’ve made absolutely no progress. My weary legs slowly begin to start dragging, cuts throbbing and welts burning, and I find myself cradling my arm stump against my chest.

Never in all my life did I imagine that I would ever lose my arm. Everything I’ve ever done has always required use of both my hands and feet, and now that I’m down to just one hand I feel useless. I can’t vault, I can’t climb, I can’t do very much of anything. But I’ve been fighting still, haven’t I? My sword hangs from a strap on my backpack; I’ve never really given much thought to the slick piece of iron but it’s saved my life so many times. It’s become an extension of my body, honestly, and is far more precious than anything else I have in my backpack. The axe’s weight is unevenly distributed on either side of the pole so it’s much harder for me to control with just one hand. The sword is much easier: a single blade, lighter, and more controllable, but has the power behind it to kill and cause serious damage. Almost like a horse – no matter what size or shape, each equine has enough power to take your life or break a bone, but can also be so gentle and friendly. Not that swords are friendly, really, that’s a bit of a stretch.

You name things that mean something to you, right? I’ll name my sword Anima.

A sudden shock of pain in my arm brings me back to the present and I whimper, pulling my arm tighter against my chest and trying to rub out the pain. I had heard stories of doctors back home and whenever they had to cut off a limb or finger or something they would numb the area first so that the patient felt no pain. Unfortunately there was no numbing when my arm was severed – all I remember was feeling like I had stuck my arm into a fire and now there are embers just smoldering inside. Pinpricks of constant pain. I massage a little harder, pressing my fingers as close to the stump as I dare, trying to chase away the searing, smoldering agony and extinguish those so-called embers.

”Andy, are you okay?”

I look up and see Mik watching me, an expression of what I think is worry on his face. I don’t really like how he’s always concerned about me but aren’t I just as concerned about him? Isn’t that why I gave him the vest? I mean, I trust Yaa, but I trust Mik a lot more. He’s swooped in on many occasions to save my skin and he’s used up a fair bit of his first aid supplies on me alone. I need to repay him for it somehow. The vest is a good start but it doesn’t satisfy me, oddly enough. The want to do more for him settles deep inside me and so I determine that I’m going to repay him soon, somehow.

He closes the distance between us and rests an arm around my shoulders, quite like a supportive gesture. I take the moment to lean into him, focusing more on the physical contact with him rather than the pain. For a moment or two it works to dull the pain and I’m able to let my mind wander free of restraint. It doesn’t go too far, though; I’m unable to think outside this arena, scared of what sentimental memories will come up.

I want to tell him that everything hurts – my physical body and my state of mind. It hurts to be cut, whipped, limbs severed, hungry, thirsty, but it also very much hurts to see people die and be the reason people leave this arena. For twenty-three of us this spider-infested place is going to be our deathbed. Who is going to make it out?

”No, I’m not okay, but that’s just the usual now, isn’t it?” I don’t mean it in a negative way (honest, I don’t). But when you’ve lost half your arm, feel nauseous when you even so much as think about food, have your throat burn every time you try to swallow – you’re never really just okay anymore. It sucks the life right out of you. I’m hanging on as good as I can with what I have, isn’t that enough?

We pause and Mik looks around, taking his arm off from my shoulders, trying to gather his bearings, I guess. I had been so engaged in my thoughts that I have no idea where we are. Upon looking around all I see is more of this damned and blinding fog. It’s really rather disorienting for someone like me who is already terrible with directions to begin with. ”Yaa?” Mik calls out, taking a few steps into the fog. Another step, another step, and it’s not long before I can’t see him anymore.

Panic tries to trickle its way in but I fight back by grinding my teeth and swallowing hard against the lump that’s forming in my throat. I won’t be alone for long, I’ll find him. I strain my eyes to try to see through the relentless fog but to no avail; everything is coated in a dim whiteness and once again I feel disoriented.

”Mik?” Silence. ”Yaa?” Quiet again. I suck in a deep breath, following in the direction I (think) I saw Mik head in.

The fog doesn’t end. I slowly make my way, watching out for things that’ll snag my feet and listening for any signs of another life – human preferably. I figure what’s more terrifying than being alone is hearing absolutely nothing. No yells, no whines, no screams, nothing but the sound of my own breathing. I stumble along a little faster now, frequently biting back against the growing fear inside of me that’s keeping me moving as the fog starts to grow brighter.

I’m completely unaware of what time of day it is but frankly I don’t care. I’m just as hungry and thirsty and hurt as I was hours ago. The only difference is that I’m beginning to see roots: big, chunky, tree roots. I pick my way cautiously but not careful enough – my foot snags on a root and I tumble forward, landing on my side. My arm swings around instinctively in a futile and late attempt to catch myself but it never reaches the ground, thankfully, because it’s the stump. That would’ve hurt like hell. I breathe a quiet thanks and hoist myself up, freezing when I spot an outline not too far off.

It’s a she, obviously, with long hair the color of one of the horses back home. Even with the veil of fog in front I recognize her: my district partner, the one I stood on stage with only a week or so ago. Us two, the only ones from Five in this hellhole. Honestly we’re the last bit of home either of us has. She looks a wreck, though: something is wrong with her leg (was it cut off?) and she looks rather beat up. A frown tugs at the ends of my mouth. ”Luci? What happened to you?”

[/justify][/color]
yea, the south wind sobs among the drowned creek courses
for sorrows no man shall bind---
ah, god! for the horses, the black plumed horses,
dear god! for the horses, death's own pale horses,
that raced in the tracks behind

A Gallop of Fire, Marie E J Pitt

[/center][/size]

[Luciana Trevers [trib-sitter]]

[th][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i39.tinypic.com/fa5sfl.png); border-right:10px solid 7F7981; border-left:10px solid 7F7981; border-top:0px solid 7F7981; border-bottom:0px solid 7F7981;] now you talk to yourself and you wonder why nothing ever changes how you’re gonna fall so far so fast who you gonna blame this on I ' M . B L E E D I N G . my dreams away. But that's just a lie; it's a sick little lie that tries to tap on my fragile surface until I shatter. In the end, I only have one dream, and bleeding my life away is only getting me closer to it. My back leans against a massive root, and my eyes glance at the invisible sky as I try to ignore the pain that radiates from my leg. My throat is dry from thirst, and my hummingbird of a heart beats ironically slow against my chest. I had awoken and found my sisters gone, and though I told myself not to feel afraid, I couldn't lie to myself. Now, as I sit alone and feel all my sanity cascading down around me like shards of innocence, I can only pray for one thing; I can only pray for one fragile thing. Freedom. I try to pierce my eyes through the fog, to catch sight of a lucky bird that can fly far from here, but I can see nothing. There is only me, the massive tree and roots, and my ever so fragile mind. Strands of brown hair stick to my forehead as I feel a gnawing pain eat towards my spine, and I lurch over with a gasp. The movement stings my stub of a leg, and I feel saliva dripping from my lips due to the agony. Tears fall from my eyes, like always, and I feel a primal growl running out of my parched throat as I lift my head back up. "Just let me die! Just kill me! I don't want to play this game any longer! Please! I just want to be free," I screech into the fog as I glare at the upwards place I want to go. I just want to wrap myself in the clouds and be free. I know no one is listening to me, of course no one is listening to me, and I bring my forehead back down to the ground, ignoring the pain in my leg. "Please," I whisper. "Just let me fly away from here." I pull my only decent leg to my chest, after a few moments of whimpering, as I raise my head up and rest my chin on my knee. Part of me wants to feel fear towards the creatures that may be lurking in the mist, or fellow tortured souls who want only to break me even more. But, in a way, I long for a beast to pounce out of the shadows and take me down. I want a creature to dig its fangs into my neck and set me free. But, could I ever be that lucky? With a tremble of my lips, I twiddle my thumbs, before I hear a faint voice echo around me. I can hear my name, the name of a broken girl with clipped wings, and find myself glancing around with a cringe. Was there someone looking for me? Or was there just a phantom who wished to crack my shell further? Either way, though the pain is excruciating, I force myself to rise up, gasping from the sheer pain. My decent leg is shaking from fatigue, and my stub drips with small amounts of pus. My back is still leaned against the massive root, but at least I am standing. I want to stand with pride when I die, even if I don't deserve to. I lick my lips, in an attempt to prepare to speak to my future attacker, and force my breathing to relax. I can see an outline moving in closer, and I can tell that this is no beast. Still, this didn't mean my dream of freedom was shattered, yet. The figure keeps moving closer, until I can make out a tuft of red hair. And, as soon as the figure speaks again and asks about what has happened to me, I find my face wincing in agony as I slide back down the root. It is Andal, my District Partner, and the last remnant of home I have with me in this Arena. Just let me die. But, it seems that even in this place full of the stench of dried blood and fear, I can't even have my death-wish be granted. "Andal," I begin, forcing myself to glance at him through my tear-ridden eyes, as my legs scream out in pain. "Are you here to kill me? Are you here to push me farther and farther off the edge? Oh Ripred, Andal... Not only have I lost my leg, I," A raspy gasp falls from my lips. "I'm losing my mind." I don’t care anymore in the morning when the birds start bleeding now and it’s all the same
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-color: 3E3D4D; border-right:0px solid CFC8BA; border-left:10px solid 7F7981; border-top:0px solid CFC8BA;] template: penny	[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-color: 3E3D4D; border-right:0px solid CFC8BA; border-left:0px solid CFC8BA; border-top:0px solid CFC8BA;] graphics: stare	[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,449,true][atrb=style, background-color: 3E3D4D; border-right:0px solid CFC8BA; border-left:0px solid CFC8BA; border-top:0px solid CFC8BA;] song: end of the line, sleigh bells	[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-color: 3E3D4D; border-right:10px solid 7F7981; border-left:0px solid CFC8BA; border-top:0px solid CFC8BA;] words: tristen
[th][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i40.tinypic.com/358dt7k.png); background-repeat: no;] . .

[semper]

when the north wind moans thro' the blind creek courses
and revels with harsh, hot sand,
I loose the horses, the wild red horses,
I loose the horses, the mad, red horses,
and terror is on the land

Luci slips back down to the ground and it’s only then that I can see how much in pain she is. Her face contorts, twisting and grimacing, and I feel my empty stomach tighten at the sight of her bloody leg stump at the hip. I know how much it hurts to lose a limb – I know how shock and adrenaline masks the pain for only so long before you fall from the high and are immersed in a sea of pain that feels like fire. But a leg, a whole entire leg, all that I’m able to think is poor Luci. She’s pretty much immobile, trapped in the mercy of whoever her ally is. Though I’ve lost a hand I’m still able to run but Luci can’t; she can’t properly defend herself if she’s having to hold onto something or someone in order to stay upright.

But now is not that time. I’m here with her, my district partner, to help and make sure she doesn’t have to end up backed into a corner today.

She says my name and I come closer, sitting down carefully in front of her as she speaks in a weak tone. Everything she says catches me off guard – kill her? Murder Luci, the girl I stood on the stage with, rode the train with, stayed on the same level as, purposefully tried to not get too close to her but also not be rude about it – no, no, I am not going to kill her.

”No, I’m not here to kill you.” It almost hurts that she thinks I’m here to end her life but I’ve come to realize you can’t trust anyone within the force field here. If it came down to it I’m sure I’d ask Mik and Yaa the same question. Are you here to kill me? What a terrifying instance it must be to see someone you recognize and think that they’ll be the last thing you ever see before the blade draws across your throat. Is that how she sees me right now? Just someone to end her life? Anima and the axe are safely strapped onto my backpack and there’s nothing in my hand, so hopefully that will also convince her that I am not here to hurt her.

My gaze travels down to her stump of a leg. Something starts bubbling up inside of me – anger, sickness, I don’t know – but it’s there, swelling up until it hits the lump in my throat. I should be used to seeing splintered fragments of bone, strands of tendon hanging, and pulpy flesh since I had to tend to my arm, but seeing it on someone else is almost nauseating. I know it hurts her, the tears in her eyes are enough to tell me that, but what can I do?

”Just hang in there for me, alright? For whoever is waiting for you back home.” Maybe she’s as starved and thirsty as I am and that’s why she’s talking all this nonsense. I know my pitiful pep talk won’t help her but maybe the water in my backpack can. I’ve two jugs so why not share? If I can’t take the pain away from her leg then I might as well try to stop burning thirst. ”Stay right here, I’ll be back. I’m going to get some wood.”

Being sure to not use my stumpy arm I get to my feet and look around. Through the fog I can see low-lying branches and roots sticking up out of the ground; I assume the roots are too hard to chop up, especially with one arm, but trying to chop a branch with one hand seems a lot more impossible. I opt for a root, then, sliding my backpack off and taking the axe. I carefully make my way over to a nearby root and start hacking away, using my foot to create a little pile of wood on the ground while I try chopping. It doesn’t take long before I’m tired but the pile of wood is decent enough. I use my foot again and scrape it along, all the way back to Luci. The axe gets strapped back on to my backpack and I then rummage through, taking out the two jugs of water. ”I don’t know how they filled so it’s probably unclean water, but we can boil them and you can take one jug.”


[Andy collects one bundle of firewood and gives it to Luci]
[Andy gives Luci one full water jug to keep]

[/justify][/color]
yea, the south wind sobs among the drowned creek courses
for sorrows no man shall bind---
ah, god! for the horses, the black plumed horses,
dear god! for the horses, death's own pale horses,
that raced in the tracks behind

A Gallop of Fire, Marie E J Pitt

[/center][/size]

[Luciana Trevers [trib-sitter]]

[th][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i39.tinypic.com/fa5sfl.png); border-right:10px solid 7F7981; border-left:10px solid 7F7981; border-top:0px solid 7F7981; border-bottom:0px solid 7F7981;] now you talk to yourself and you wonder why nothing ever changes how you’re gonna fall so far so fast who you gonna blame this on H I S . I N T EN T I O N S . are pure. Andal speaks and confesses that he does not wish to kill me. A normal girl would sigh in relief and hug the merciful soul in front of her, but I am anything but normal. Tears keep falling from my eyes, and I know that I look like a mangy little scum of a girl. I don't care, though. It's true, I do not care. I don't care about anything, anymore. But, truthfully, there was still one thing I cared about. There was one thing that entered my mind with every waking moment. Freedom. Freedom, freedom, freedom. Blurry dots appear in front of my eyes, and I continue to allow raspy sobs to drip from my throat. Andal urges me to hang on; he urges me to hang on for whoever is waiting for me back home. But, in the end, there is nothing waiting for me back in District Five. "I'm just so tired, Andal," I pant, squeezing my eyes shut. And I'm thirsty, too. It was true. My throat felt like mud that had been hardened by the blistering sun after a rainy day, and every little word I said caused me agony on the way out. Then, as if by instinct or his want to get away from my pathetic ways, Andal tells me to wait where I am while he goes to collect firewood. Does it look like I can go anywhere else, Andal? I sit there in my pathetic state, until he finally gets back, laying the wood out in front of us. I don't know how I can sense it, but I can tell he doesn't know how to start a fire. Something that I, surprisingly, do know. He pulls out two jugs of water, ever so precious water, and hands one to me. "I don’t know how they filled so it’s probably unclean water, but we can boil them and you can take one jug," he states, as I glance at the water in the jug. Part of me wants to gulp it down as is, but I already look like enough of a savage. I force myself to edge closer to the firewood, biting my lip and trying to ignore the pain. "I don't know why you're being so kind, Andal," I start, working on starting a fire as I speak. "But, truly, thank you so much." And, with another raspy gasp, I manage to start the fire. I then ask Andal to hand me my jug of water and a bundle of plants from my pack. Am I truly thankful, though? Or should I actually be enraged at this ever so kind young man who is trying to keep me from freedom? [Luci starts a fire and boils her jug of water] [Luci drinks her jug of water] [Luci eats her bundle of edible plants] I don’t care anymore in the morning when the birds start bleeding now and it’s all the same
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-color: 3E3D4D; border-right:0px solid CFC8BA; border-left:10px solid 7F7981; border-top:0px solid CFC8BA;] template: penny	[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-color: 3E3D4D; border-right:0px solid CFC8BA; border-left:0px solid CFC8BA; border-top:0px solid CFC8BA;] graphics: stare	[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,449,true][atrb=style, background-color: 3E3D4D; border-right:0px solid CFC8BA; border-left:0px solid CFC8BA; border-top:0px solid CFC8BA;] song: end of the line, sleigh bells	[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-color: 3E3D4D; border-right:10px solid 7F7981; border-left:0px solid CFC8BA; border-top:0px solid CFC8BA;] words: tristen
[th][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i40.tinypic.com/358dt7k.png); background-repeat: no;] . .

[semper]

when the north wind moans thro' the blind creek courses
and revels with harsh, hot sand,
I loose the horses, the wild red horses,
I loose the horses, the mad, red horses,
and terror is on the land

”I don’t know why you’re being so kind, Andal, but, truly, thank you so much.”

Why am I being so kind to her? Does part of me sympathize with her since she lost a leg and I lost an arm? She looks incredibly weak and frail and I feel very much the same way: beaten and exhausted, running on the extreme bare minimum, fighting back dry heaves whenever something upsets my empty stomach. But everyone else in the arena is feeling the exact same way, so why is nothing making me hesitate in drawing Anima against them?

Or am I being nice to her because I know she isn’t even supposed to be here?

That was a very gut-wrenching move she pulled back in Five during the reaping. They had called another girl – Wendy Darling, I still remember her name – but Luci spoke up hardly a few seconds after, willingly throwing her entire life in Five away to come play this so-called game. But me – I had no choice. No one spoke up for me, no one stopped me as I walked up to the stage, no one reacted. It’s pathetic to think that and be angry over actions no one took but would I be able to live with the guilt of watching another boy die in my place? People would make assumptions and judge me before they even heard me breathe a word of reason. Maybe it’s good that no one stepped up for me. The guilt would eat me alive just as the guilt over shooting Haff’s horse has ever since I pulled the trigger. I begin to realize it’s selfish of me to be mad that no one took my place because, when Haff was called, why didn’t I step up for him? He would still be alive and so would Anima – they’d be out in the pastures, playing together, riding, galloping along without the slightest care in the world. I would be the one laying six feet under, not him; he’d still be at the bottom of the totem pole at the house but he’d be alive and breathing, carrying on just as he had been doing long before they called the name Haff Ferde. No one stood up for him and so no one stood up for me, that’s how fate works, isn’t it? It’s just giving me my fair share.

Luci starts a fire without so much as a hitch and I sit down near her, handing her the jug for her to keep and drink from. I then pick up mine and we boil the water, cleaning out any of the impurities. My throat burns just watching the bubbles in the water move around and pop – it’s hot, no doubt, but it takes everything I have to not put it right to my mouth and drink like my life depends on it. I swallow what little saliva is in my mouth, flinching at the harshness of my dry tongue against my parched throat. The seconds drag along into minutes and as soon as I figure the water has boiled long enough I take it off the fire and set it down to cool.

All this time I avoid looking at Luci, choosing instead to look at either the fire of my water, occasionally placing the back of my hand against the jug to check its temperature. Everything that crosses my mind just leads me back to the original question: why am I being nice to her, giving her my spare water when I can so easily just cut her down where she stands? Luci can’t run away from me and she’s glued to the water jug just as much as I am (though I see she’s also pulled out a bundle of plants) but something still stops me still, keeping the thought of brutal murder at bay.

”I guess I’m doing it cause you’re not even supposed to be here. They didn’t call your name.” My voice is low and hesitant and I’m unsure about this area I am heading into with her memories. ”It was a brave thing you did, but why’d you volunteer?”



[Andy roasts Po the Badass Potato over the fire]
[Andy eats Po the Badass Potato]
[Andy boils his jug of water]
[Andy drinks his jug of water]
[Andy collects one bundle of firewood for himself]

[/justify][/color]
yea, the south wind sobs among the drowned creek courses
for sorrows no man shall bind---
ah, god! for the horses, the black plumed horses,
dear god! for the horses, death's own pale horses,
that raced in the tracks behind

A Gallop of Fire, Marie E J Pitt

[/center][/size]

[Luciana Trevers [trib-sitter]]

[th][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i39.tinypic.com/fa5sfl.png); border-right:10px solid 7F7981; border-left:10px solid 7F7981; border-top:0px solid 7F7981; border-bottom:0px solid 7F7981;] now you talk to yourself and you wonder why nothing ever changes how you’re gonna fall so far so fast who you gonna blame this on W H Y. D I D . I volunteer? Didn't Andal know not to ask questions that had no answers? Then again, maybe there was an answer. Maybe there was a stupid answer that a stupid girl like myself had dreamed up during a night where the stars shone bright. I wipe my hand across my lips, savoring the plain yet incredibly satisfying flavor of the water and plants that had slid down my throat. "I'm not quite sure," I begin, finding a stupidly sarcastic grin forming upon my lips. "Maybe I thought I'd win," I confess. The water and food have greatly helped to repair my already distant sanity, but what I have just allowed to fall from my lips is by far the craziest thing I have said during these Games. I tuck a stray and matted strand of brown hair behind my ear and tilt my head at Andal. "Sometimes, I think, people would much rather run away from their fears than face them. And, it just so happens, that I felt that my fears greatly outweighed the chilling terror that radiates from the Games," I continue on, before laughing from the irony. "But, in the end, I was dead wrong." I allow myself to lounge out further, the back of my head against a massive root. It was so Ripred-damned uncomfortable. I wriggled around, starting to get used to ignoring the pain in my leg, and glanced back at Andal, my eyes shining with a faint kindness and sincerity. "You doing all of this for me truly means a lot, Andy," I confess, without even realizing that I have just given him a pet-name. I blink my eyes and shake my head, a sigh falling from my lips. "But, even though I am thankful for the company, you shouldn't waste your time with me. I'll only slow your down, or worse, get you infected with my pathetic ways," I state, laughing awkwardly. I inch somewhat closer to Andy, the fog getting thicker and thicker until all I can see is him and the faint glow of the fire. My head suddenly thuds with the intensity of the previous days, and I hesitantly allow it to find its way against Andy's shoulder. "I never realized how great it would be," I start, my lips trembling and more tears falling from my eyes. "I never realized how great it would be to have friends." But, that was the catch. Because, the friends I made here, were quite honestly, once in a lifetime. I don’t care anymore in the morning when the birds start bleeding now and it’s all the same
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-color: 3E3D4D; border-right:0px solid CFC8BA; border-left:10px solid 7F7981; border-top:0px solid CFC8BA;] template: penny	[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-color: 3E3D4D; border-right:0px solid CFC8BA; border-left:0px solid CFC8BA; border-top:0px solid CFC8BA;] graphics: stare	[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,449,true][atrb=style, background-color: 3E3D4D; border-right:0px solid CFC8BA; border-left:0px solid CFC8BA; border-top:0px solid CFC8BA;] song: end of the line, sleigh bells	[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-color: 3E3D4D; border-right:10px solid 7F7981; border-left:0px solid CFC8BA; border-top:0px solid CFC8BA;] words: tristen
[th][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i40.tinypic.com/358dt7k.png); background-repeat: no;] . .

[semper]

when the north wind moans thro' the blind creek courses
and revels with harsh, hot sand,
I loose the horses, the wild red horses,
I loose the horses, the mad, red horses,
and terror is on the land

If she wins then that means my death – if I win then it means her death. No one truly wins in these games; if you’re a victor then you’re haunted until the end of your days with the dead, rotting faces of twenty-three other human beings. And if you die, well, then you’re just gone forever. It’s a game that only the Capitol wins for pure entertainment at the expense of strangers’ children. Sick, grotesquely sick. Odd how much more human people in the districts are compared to the Capitolites and their gemstones and whiskers and painted skin. We’re nothing but their playthings to dress up and parade around, like a child’s doll, before being pitted against people our own age.

But what could possibly terrify Luci enough into dying in the place of another girl? She never struck me as a weak girl but granted I never viewed her to be very strong. Maybe I was wrong all this time. She ran away from her fears and chose to fight in a game where the only thing as stake is her life and if she wins then she’s invincible and no one can touch her. Winning means safety, winning means no more fears, winning means everything.

”But, in the end, I was dead wrong.”

So maybe winning won’t cut for her. One hand stays on my water jug while I turn my head to look at her. She’s weak but the water and plants have seemed to regenerate her energy a good bit, but behind those glistening eyes of her I see there’s so much more turmoil. Part of me wants to reach out and embrace her, just as Mik had done when I cracked and caved under the pressure of the games and wept, comfort her and reassure that things would be okay (even if it’s a lie). My district partner – poor, poor Luci. I remember looking at her before at the training center and thinking that soon she’s going to be the only piece of home I have. Early on I had made a silent promise that I would – and still am not – going to be the one to end her life. To kill Luci means to kill what last bit of home I have.

She bids her thanks to me for helping her but tags on a rather upsetting comment. ”No, no, I’m not wasting my time on you. I don’t care how slow you go. We’re district partners, right? Partners don’t just turn on each other no matter how ‘pathetic’ the other thinks they are.” It’s hard putting my thoughts into words. Luci isn’t being pathetic in any way despite how much she might try to convince me otherwise but there’s really no way for me to prove her wrong. She’s been dealt a terrible hand of cards and is doing the best she can with what she’s got; I guess all she really needed was a helping hand from someone. You can only do things for so long by yourself before you end up needing someone else.

Luci scoots closer to me and ever so slowly she puts her head on my shoulder. At first I hesitate. How will she receive it if I attempt to comfort her? She, like I, has been through hell and back and it really takes a lot out of you. Maybe this is her cracking, splintering under the terrible pressure of the games just as I and Mik had done at different times. There’s tears in her eyes and my heart reaches out to her. Luckily she’s on the side that still has a hand so I reach an arm around her and put light but comforting pressure on her, nearly protective in nature to ward off all the negativity she seems to be harboring inside.

”You’ve always got a friend in me. Don’t you ever forget that.”

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yea, the south wind sobs among the drowned creek courses
for sorrows no man shall bind---
ah, god! for the horses, the black plumed horses,
dear god! for the horses, death's own pale horses,
that raced in the tracks behind

A Gallop of Fire, Marie E J Pitt

Graphic credit to Kiah <3[/right]
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