misfits reunited {Four Horsemen vs. Pygmy cattle, day 2}

[Python]

This story’s missing a wishing well
no mirror to show and tell

_______________________________________________________

L A I L A S Y C A M O R E
DISTRICT5 | THIRTEEN

_______________________________________________________

Laila felt everything at once; aches of hunger in the empty pits of her stomach, thirst lingering in the depths of her itchy throat and fatigue settling into her bones. Among those burdens was the terror behind Eye’s absence and the uncertainty of her own demise. She had always known that she didn’t stand a chance against a bunch of hulking teenagers, but how long would she last now without Eye by her side? He had been her only hope for longevity, and the water had swept him away. It would either haul him off to the unknown or swallow him whole. Either way, he was lost to them, perhaps dead thanks to his snapped leg bone. She didn’t know what to do anymore. Willis and Claire were her only means of returning to the mainland, and after that? Well, wandering off on her own would be suicidal, yet she also didn’t trust these two. They weren’t like Eye.

A blaring chorus of music made her flinch in the bed of sand. They were all lounging atop of this small island, coated in sand and salt, water and blood, and shivering as the wind sighed against their skin. Laila wrapped her arms around herself, shoving away the stomach cramps as an image appeared among the stars. Her view of these stars had been unimaginable, and unlike anything she’d ever seen in district five. But now? Now it was all so evident that it was fake. False stars, false hope, and now false glory as Hannah McEwen’s visage was broadcast to the nation. Laila swallowed a knot in her throat, dreading the moment they were all anticipating. Keanu Frost, district three. I don’t care. Mizar Roxen, district four. Please, no. Luke Davis, district eight. She sat up.

Eye is alive!

She stared in awe at the sky, a warmth welling up inside of her chest. Her aches were temporarily forgotten because Eye was alive! Willis hadn’t failed, Eye wasn’t drowning, he was alive somewhere. Everything would be okay, they could find him tomorrow. She almost smiled at the thought.

Then Thistle Cardo appeared, and nothing could be forgotten. The pain returned as nausea in her abdomen, threatening to launch bile past her lungs. The stains on her gi would not wash out – the blood from his neck was still on her, a constant reminder of the gore. Her blade licking his neck without a sound, the blood spattering in her direction, the thump of his head against her shoe, the empty eyes staring idly ahead. She had seen what was inside the wound, and it made her sick. But that’s all she could feel – disgust. When his face vanished, there was nothing she could think about other than how she wished she could’ve kicked the head away instead of squealing like a frightened child. She didn’t know if that was a good sign, or bad.

”I killed him.” She didn’t look at Willis, but from her peripheral vision she could detect the movement of his head and feel his gaze creeping along her skin. Did he know, or was Claire her only witness to the gruesome deed? His answer made it clear enough that he was still in the dark. ”Y-You did?” She refused to look at him, hands moving to her lap. She twiddled her thumbs and focused on a twig half-buried in the sand next to her toes. ”Yeah. At the Cornucopia he ran into me and hit me with this,” it was evidence, it was an excuse, but it was there. She had not imagined it. She withdrew a pair of nunchucks from her backpack and held them up for Willis to examine. ”So I swung my sword at him, and…” There was more bile, more revulsion, but it was easier to hide than feelings like guilt or anguish. She felt neither of those. ”..chopped his head off.”

Once the words were out she realized how easy they were to say. ”Uh…wow.” she heard Willis murmur. ”What’s that feel like?” And she knew, she knew the answer to that now and blurted her response without hesitation. ”Nothing.” Half of a lie, half of a truth. She felt disgust. Severed heads were nasty and she couldn’t believe she had executed someone like that with her tiny arms. What about everything else, though? There was always the possibility of guilt, of regret, of mourning, of sympathy for the dead’s family. She didn’t know what those felt like, but she knew it would be more painful than what she felt now. Did that make her hollow? ”It was gross, but I don’t feel anything. Is that bad?” For the first time in hours she looked up at him, eyes pleading for the answer she wanted. She didn’t receive it.

”I think that might be bad,” he said. ”But hey, I’m not one to judge.”

Damn right he wasn’t.

She let the silence soak in, and then she spoke up with venom between her teeth. ”I bet Eye would know what to say if he was here.” And then she turned her back on him to lie on her side and curl herself up into a ball of salt and sand. Tomorrow they would find him, she just knew it.

And when tomorrow came she vowed to make it her goal. Get off this stupid island, then find Eye. This time she wouldn’t be clinging to scrawny Claire like an infant, though – this time Willis was her victim. He was taller, stronger, more competent, and it was his turn to suffer for losing Eye the way he did yesterday. As soon as the sun started to scorch the sands with its hot blanket of rays they slid into the water and returned to solid land with heavy breaths and hammering hearts. They were soaked once again from head to toe, her hair a hopeless mess tied back in a ponytail and her clothes dripping with cold, salty water that made her taste buds shrivel. Now that they were back here they would have to be on guard more so than usual. The rest of the tributes would be here with their bloody weapons and determined gazes. Laila wanted to cut them all down, but what she wanted most was to find Eye.

They headed for a patch of green. The grass was almost as tall as she was, and the trees like leafless towers bent at abnormal angles and mangled almost beyond recognition. She stared at the bald trees and maneuvered through the grasses with her katana at the ready. The blades tickled her skin until a violent gust of wind turned them to whips. Her skin itched and her ponytail was lifted above her shoulders by a gust that howled and nearly knocked her off of her feet. What the hell kind of place is this? And then her foot caught on something and she nearly tumbled face first into the grass. When she glanced down the sight of a miniature cow nearly startled her into dropping her sword. ”Is that a cow?” she said to neither Willis nor Claire in particular. The little thing was staring at her, and she didn’t know what to make of it. Mutts were supposed to be dangerous, right? And this was surely a mutt. All animals in the arena were freakish mutations, and cows were not supposed to be this small.

”Cows make beef, right?” Her katana was a streak of glimmering silver beneath the sun. She could see the little creature’s beady eyes in its reflection if she held it sideways. ”I like beef.” A second one appeared, body slipping through blades of grass to join its companion. What could a few tiny cows do to her? She shrugged and aimed her katana carefully. Predator and prey.

_____________________________________________________
template by chelsey

[attacks pygmy cattle #1 with katana]
RU6R6CoOsword
Shallow Cut on Right Forearm -- 3.5 damage

sword

[rook]

willis keeni

for everyday robots getting old
when our lips are cold
lookin’ like standing stones
out there on our own

They hate me, both of them. The silence that hangs over our private island is a reminder of the mistakes I have made. What I did can't be fixed. That unspoken fact drives a wedge between the girls and I. It hangs there, in the air above us, a void of resentment. I want to say something to them both - Explain it to them, and tell them that it wasn't my fault. I can't go on sitting here, feeling like I'm on my own. Laila won't even look at me. It was my fault though. He was my responsibility, and I couldn't handle it. This is why no one trusts Willis Keeni - 'Cause he's a failure. He can't be depended on.

Hours have gone by since we crawled onto the sand, forcing our tainted lungs to cough up the salt we inhaled. It is getting dark and there is still no sign of Eye. I still don't understand it. He vanished, like he was part of some stupid Capitol magic trick. It just doesn't make any sense. He escaped, like he was water slipping through my fingers. A boy of the ocean, caught like a fish out of water. I'm not surprised he tried to get away. What if Eye left us? Maybe this was his plan all along. Use us to get supplies, and then go at it on his own. The thought burns in my head, and I grind my teeth in a hot mix of frustration and confusion. Even if he did want this, the girls will still blame me. I'm still the scapegoat in all of this.

Darkness seeps into the Arena, covering the flat landscape in an amethyst veil. The stars freckle the sky above me, giving off the faintest of light. It looks so real, but I know that it's just artificial. It's fake, and that upsets me, because in this moment, the Arena is beautiful. The black sea is so gentle that you can see the reflection of the galaxies scattered all the way over to the horizon, where they meet in perfect symmetry. Sure, it's stunning now, but come morning, when we have to cross the ocean again and try to find a better vantage point, I'll hate it again. Dread fills me, knowing that inevitably, we will have to struggle back over the water again. If I thought it was hard the first time, it'll be twice as hard tomorrow, because I'm so energy deprived, and the withdrawal symptoms are getting worse. Oh, joy.

I take some time to look over the items I have been sponsored. I'm confused - Who would want to sponsor me? I got a seven in training, which isn't particularly impressive (the lowest out of my allies), and my interview wasn't stand-out either. The only big thing I've done in the Arena was slice Luke Davis' leg clean from his body, and save Eye from that group at the Cornucopia. I'm nothing special, so why sponsor me? I sit with my little silver parachutes, opening the containers one at a time. An unexpected excitement rushes through me as I open the first pot, hoping for something to keep me alive. It is a small jar filled with a thick, black substance. It is labelled as Tar, and comes with a small stick of flint. Fire weapons. I've seen this before, in previous Games. It could come in handy.

The second container is quite big, and holds two large, brown shin pads. They are made of thick leather, and designed to protect my legs. Obviously someone doesn't want me ending up like Eye. I sit some distance from Laila and Claire, but I keep turning to check if they're okay. They may not like me at the moment, but they're all I've got left now. I can't let them vanish too. The third and final container is another small one, and so I guess that it has some kind of ointment or medicine inside, in case I get hurt. I click it open and peer inside. My hand clasps over my mouth to stop myself from screaming. I try to swallow, but my throat has cracked, making my eyes water. Whiskey. They've only gone and given me Alcohol.

I smile, pressing my lips together to hold back a laugh. They know that I am a trembling wreck who can't throw or think straight, and they know that Alcohol deprivation is weakening me. Thank Ripred, is all I can say. Praise, someone with common sense. I want to rip off the lid and down the amber fluid, but I know how unwise that would be. I pull the bottle close to my chest, almost hugging it. At least now I know that if I desperately need to drink, I can. I look up to the stars and smile, genuinely, for the first time in days.
"Thank you."

The anthem lights up the ocean with an obnoxious cyan flash, cheesy music blaring from the heavens. Six dead. That leaves Eighteen. A quarter of the Tributes are already dead. That can only be a good thing, right? As Thistle Cardo's older features are carved into the night sky, I hear Laila's tiny voice from not to far away.
"...I killed him" She mutters, staring at Thistle's dark expression. In this light, she looks so small and thin, like a painting. I don't know what to say to her. I didn't see her much at the Cornucopia. In fact, I only really saw Eye, and that was when I was grabbing his limp body and high-tailing it out of there.

"Y-You did?" I stutter, my hands twitching uncontrollably. If Laila's killed already, then she's got a taste for it. That's got to be an advantage.
"Yeah. At the Cornucopia, he ran into me and hit me with this" She takes out two iron nunchucks, not too dissimilar to the pair that Savannah used to break Eye's leg. She took his weapon? To be honest, a sword is much more effective than nunchucks, but then again her sword might get damaged, or lost. It's better to be prepared.
"So I swung my sword at him, and...chopped his head off" She finishes, hesitantly. Her body language radiates shame, and I want to hug her in that moment. I want to be the older brother who can comfort her. I keep my distance though, because I really don't know Laila Sycamore at all.

Suddenly the urge to drink becomes overwhelming. I'm not sure if that's because the withdrawal is getting worse, of if Laila's confession is weighing down my conscience. I'm gonna have to kill, if I want to survive. That makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I bite my lower lip, tasting blood. When did that happen?
"Uh... Wow." I breathe nervously, "What's that feel like?"
For a thirteen year old girl to kill a near grown man. That's gotta be a spectacle. I'm not surprised she's got so much sponsorship.

"Nothing." She says, sending a chill that ripples goosebumps over my body, and down my spine, "It was gross, but...I don't feel anything. Is that bad?"
I bite my lip harder. To feel nothing after killing someone. I don't know if that's normal or not. If I were to kill another Tribute, I'm pretty sure I'd feel bad about it. What was it I said to Caesar? When it comes down to it, are they killers? Laila has already proven that she is. When it comes down to it, am I? I want to down the whiskey so badly, but I don't. Not yet. The fight against Alcohol is all I have.

"I think that might be bad..." I tell her, but then I think of all the bad things I have done. Cheating, lying, drinking, drugs. Not to mention conning hard working men out of money, by hustling - Hiding my darts skills.
"But hey, I'm not one to judge"

"I bet Eye would know what to say if he was here." She says, hitting me hard with guilt. I grunt, rolling over in the sand. I'm not gonna talk to her if she's gonna keep going on about Eye Saw. Yeah, he's our best chance of surviving, and yeah, it's my fault, but can she stop talking about it for one moment?

Sleep is broken, and actually makes me feel more tired than rejuvenated. We are all more cranky than we were yesterday, and now we somehow have to work together to get back over the water. Without speaking to her, I allow Laila to climb onto my back, before we make the exhausting trip back to land. Surprisingly, it's not as difficult with Laila, who is a lot lighter, and less of a burden. We make good time, and when we hit land I actually feel more awake - More active.

But it's Laila who seems most active. Before I can stop her, she's running off towards some cattle-like Muttations, both of which seem fine to leave us alone, until Laila goes in, swinging her sword. Ripred damn.
"LAILA!" I shout, running after her, "What are you doing?!"

It's up to me to be the responsible adult, again.

[Willis attacks Pygmy #1, Katana]
SOk|RnTHsword
[Shallow Cut on Stomach -- 4.0 damage]

everyday robots just touch thumbs
swimmin’ in lingo they become
stricken in a status sea
one more vacancy

sword

[gamemaker kelsier]

“I'm waiting for the call, the hand on the chest
I'm ready for the fight and fate”

Being too weak to cry out as you get dragged away by a bunch of fish has got to be the second most humiliating moment of my existence.

I'm not going to lie, my night was a complete piece of shit.

I don't think you can judge me until you've gone and gotten your femur broken and then been literally stolen out of the hands of safety by a bunch of asshole fish. They didn't even want to eat me. They just bit me in a clingy way and then dragged me off to some island. After that, they literally just swam off. The fuckers just wanted to fuck around with me, and hey, I can respect that I guess, but not when I'm already in a bad mood on the account of being stabbed in the back, literally. When they dumped me in the shallows, I barely even had the strength to crawl up the beach before collapsing on the sand. I literally do not understand how people can get their legs taken off their body and just keep on going like it's nothing but a flesh wound.

The pain is actually indescribable, and I still have my leg. I can feel my bones disagreeing with each other. I want to cut my leg off, that's how much it hurts. I can't help thinking about Ewe, I wonder if it hurt like this everyday for him. He was so fucking brave, my little man. He'd always smile even when he was in pain. I have got to be like my little brother, I have got to be jut as brave and strong as him. Even if it kills me, I have to make my stand. My pride is all I have left.

This pain, the tributes of past games had to be literally high on drugs or something, I mean, it's impossible. It's leading me to believe that some past games have been staged with the amount of care given to a lost limb. I'm not going to lie. When I was lying alone on that beach, I cried like a goddamned baby for a good minute and a half. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Or the fact that after that I gave the entire arena both fingers and then dragged myself up the beach to bind my leg up with a rope of parachutes and palm leaves.

Even after that, I was wondering what the hell to do. The anthem told me that night that only six had died, and man, that wasn't enough for me to go it alone. Besides the fact that I was quite happy being with my alliance, I need the little shits. I guess I can understand how tributes keep going on even without a leg. I think it's more out of necessity than want. Hell, I wasn't ready to die last night, I needed to toughen up. So after stitching up the cut on my leg and probably fucking it up forever by limping along, I spent a pretty good night stargazing.

I'm not sure why Jareth bothered with stars. He's an artist, I know that. Artists love stars, can't get enough of them. I should know because I love them too.

I guess they rejuvenated me because in the morning, I collected my backpack and swam off the island, this time far more alert for clingrays. I made my way onto some grassy plains, and found it a lot less wet and salty, so there is that. I've decided to look at the bright side of things just because there isn't much else to do. I'm not much of a worrier, not anymore. I tend to lean more towards maniacal happiness. Something felt good about the plains anyway, I felt like I was going to get lucky. I figure I've got it coming after such a bad start.

I guess I was right because as I limp along in no small amount of pain, I can hear Laila Fucking Fuck Your Shit Sycamore's voice. I swear to Ripred, I almost burst into tears again. Luckily for me, I'm most likely insane and I don't. Then I hear Willis and I can't help but punch the air. I was worried about him, he's probably my best friend after ll. I peer through the bushes to make sure I'm not walking into a trap and see my allies. They're attacking some cow things. Excellent, I could use a good killing because I'm tired of getting my ass kicked. I come out of the bushes swinging, a joyful roar erupting from my lips.

"YOU LITTLE SHITS, CAN'T I LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR EVEN TWO SECONDS WITHOUT YOU GETTING INTO TROUBLE?"

I'm stumbling, I'm sweating in pain, and yet I'm grinning from ear to ear. These people are the most important people in the entire world to me right now, I didn't want to be without them and now I've found them again. Looks like meat is on the menu tonight. Fucking fantastic, because I could eat a whole cow. I charge.

[Eye attacks Cattle #2]
bW7Q0fHJsword
[1003 -- Shallow Cut on Left Shoulder -- 3.5 damage]sword

[loren]

[ c l a i r e p a r t r i d g e ]

. vit de district VII .
. une la fille seul .
. XIV ans .

"This life it's just a place in my mind
Through the window I find
I can stop time
'Cause dreams are crawling all over my head,
and you have those beautiful eyes
But I am a wicked child"

I'm sure it wasn't Laila's intention to or maybe it was, I know her name not her story dunk my head beneath the waves repeatedly like she got the shittiest doughnut in the box and was trying to redeem it by violently drowning it in milk, but she did. Swimming in an open ocean was far harder than paddling through a still pond ever was. Ponds have no objective, no dilemma, no sense of time or urgency. Frogs and minnows and cattails could find their homes in it, but if they didn't want to, the pond had no objection, and continued doing what it has always known. Sitting. Contemplating. Waiting, saying hellos, crying goodbyes. The sea was like a business man. He had things to do, people to meet, and interrupting the flow he has always known for thousands of centuries, swimming against his current, well, that took a lot of heft. A lot of horse power. The waves are the only things on earth that could bring the mountains to bow, crush the earth's titans into nothing but whispers of sand, dusting in the shadows of what they once were. And I had to swim against it. I had to swim against god-executioners with sixty pounds of finger-painting, nap-taking, katana-wielding violence on my back, force feeding me saltine soup between every half breath I could manage. 

 I had no sense of time swimming across the stretch. Just a sense of my existence, and how lingering it really was; like sand in my palms that bled through my fingers the harder I tried to maintain a grasp on it. And I never thought I'd be grateful anywhere in the world ever again unless I woke up in the flower beds in the Partridge gardens screaming because what I thought was my reality was just the devil's watercolored illustration of hell on earth. 

Laila dismounted off of me as I crumpled unto the ground in an exhausted heap of shrieking joints and decaying bones. Almost immediately she and Willis, despite the goddamn exodus they all just barely managed to pull out of alive, began bickering over... what they were fighting over I'm not quite sure because my breaths were raspy and rugged, snagging at the sides of my windpipes on their exits and returns. Maybe Willis found a coconut for a piña colada and wouldn't share? Maybe Eye taught Laila a new curse word and she just wanted to try it out for shits and giggles. I stuck up a disheartened thumb in the air to assure anyone who might've given a single fuck that I was alive I was alive and passed out in the sand.

We swam all together again once morning came. Somewhat. Eye was gone. And initially I assumed he left to get firewood or kill an octopus or whatever District 4-survival tips he may have garnered, but instead the remaining three of us swam off the island, Laila clinging to Willis this time around, without him. My every tendon and nerve was still buzzing with the watery wasps' stings from the trek the day before, but this time around I could paddle lazily on my back, face the sun, and hear my own thoughts without the sound of raking oxygen and sea flooding into my throat. And what these newfound thoughts told me was that they. killed. Eye. I was sure of it. They killed Eye while I was sleeping. They killed him and ate him I could feel it, y'know? And it wasn't just dehydration and starvation and fatigue getting to me. I had a sixth sense about these kind of things. I could guess if a woman was pregnant or just fat with 60% accuracy. And why they didn't kill me first, as I was sure to be the last person in the alliance to land a scratch on an itch bewildered me, but then it came to me: Eye probably had a drink before going into the Games. So Willis and Laila killed him, ate his meaty meats, and Willis found his watering.... sack? Or wherever the stuff you drink goes into I'm not a doctor fuck off, and drank it. And they're saving me for after eating an entire human being wears off. Goddammit. This is why we don't get gremlins wet, or give drunkards a sword.

Once we made it to land I gave a twitching smile to both my alliance members. Backstabbing fuckers. I squinted at them and nodded slightly, reaching for my glorified forks from my backpack. I bet Eye tasted real good, huh? You animals. I bet that broken leg must've been all tenderized and smoky and--

”Is that a cow?” Laila asked, drawing out attention to a little spotted lump of a thing across the grasses. She began taking out her sword with a, "Cows make beef, right? I like beef." 

Holy mother of Ripred it was hungry again. 

Willis started chasing after her as she went in for the kill. And I cautiously followed suit. Better the cow than me. 

And with both of the... erm... weapons, in my hands, I held them out at arms-length to look like I was contributing something to the overall group effort. I bet if Eye was here and not marinating in Sycamore and Keeni's stomach acid these cows would've been dead the moment we reached land. I bet if Eye was here we'd all be laughing along, with him making some cow-related puns. I bet if Eye was here he'd have some deep, meaningful speech to say to uplift us, let us know just how capable, just how valuable each and everyone one of us really ar--

"YOU LITTLE SHITS, CAN'T I LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR EVEN TWO SECONDS WITHOUT YOU GETTING INTO TROUBLE?"

.....oh.

Forget everything I said.

I closed my eyes and took a swing.

" Now with my head in the clouds
I'll sit here and burn, I will burn
Save me, I'm not crazy,
I just fell through the ground
And now things are upside down "
x

[ template by zoe ]

[Claire attacks Cattle #2]
5|S9uxxsglaive
13140 -- Shallow Cut on Cheek -- 3.5 damageglaive

[✨ zozo.]

PYNKY

Pynky was a happy little Pygmy. Until little girls ended up kicking her awake, then she turned into a raging, mooing, screaming lil' bitch. You see Pynky was not a morning person, nor being rudely awoken before getting her much-needed 8 hours of sleep, nor was she fond of tributes kicking her in the side. So put those together and the cute little bundle of mutt unleashed all hell upon the arena in a cacophony of howls and lashes of her tail.

[attacks laila with tail;whip]
lvecohEQwhip
[Deep Gash on Left Thigh -- 8.0 damage]


PYE

Pye, another little pygmy and Pynky's bffl, was woken up by the sound of Pynky screaming about "young hooligans" and "no way to treat a lady" and "when I get my hands on you". Blinking in confusion as he yawned, he found before him 4 tributes hacking at Pynky as she fought back. Before he had the time to say "Pynky u dumb beetch, you don't have any hands" in the kindest, most friendliest way possible, he felt a jab at his shoulder and snatched back at the nearest tribute. "HEY WATCH IT" he yelped (which would only sound like incoherent animal noises to the tributes) and a headbutt.

[attacks willis with head;blunt]
blunt
[Bruised Left Knee -- 2.5 damage]

whip�blunt

[Python]

The witch is inside of me
Her poison will wash away the memory

_______________________________________________________

L A I L A S Y C A M O R E
DISTRICT5 | THIRTEEN

_______________________________________________________

The little shit was quick. The edge of her blade grazed its hide as it scurried away into the grass, barreling straight toward Willis. The blonde was currently wearing an expression of irritation and disbelief, shouting something into the winds. The sound was nearly lost to her ears and by the swift gusts, but fortunately she could read his lips and guess well enough what he was babbling at her. ”I’m getting dinner!” she exclaimed, as if it was obvious. She rolled her eyes when he swiped at the miniature cow and failed to finish what she had tried to accomplish. His blade left a trail of scarlet in its wake, and she could see the blood seeping from the little creature’s wounds, staining the whites and blacks of its hairs. Maybe they had slowed it down so it wouldn’t be able to escape quickly enough.

Claire was chasing the second one without a single protest. The tall patches of grass obstructed her view of that battle, but a loud shout stole all of the shits she had left about that. For a moment she thought it was the mutts shrieking in pain and anger, but then she could hear words – words mouthed by a familiar voice that made her snap her head around. "YOU LITTLE SHITS, CAN'T I LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR EVEN TWO SECONDS WITHOUT YOU GETTING INTO TROUBLE?" She almost couldn’t believe it; it was Eye! He had found them! I knew it, I knew we would find him! He erupted from the bushes like the maniac he was, leg still evidently a burden as he stumbled across the grasslands and charged one of the little mutts that was trying to hide. She didn’t witness the blow that followed. She was too excited, too overwhelmed with joy to see him alive and healthy enough to fight.

”He’s back!” she wanted to laugh, but all she could do was beam at everyone. ”He’s back!” She would’ve cried tears of relief had she wanted to. What she really wanted to do though was sprint up to him and hug him – until hot lash of pain swept her off of her feet and singed a ribbon of flame into her flesh. She screamed at the sudden onslaught of agony, knees scraping against dirt as the agile movements of the mutt caught her eye. Blood coated the ends of its tail – a long ass tail that shouldn’t belong to a cow the size of a cat. Salty tears burned her eyes as pain burned her leg. When she looked at the gash she screamed again - a furious scream that drove her into a maddened rage. She found her katana and lunged at the stupid little shit beast with fire in her eyes and a war cry spilling from her lips just as blood spilled from her scrawny thigh. She was going to fry this fucker when she was done butchering it.

_____________________________________________________
template by chelsey

[attacks pygmy cattle #1 with katana]
fMbtxUKHsword
Stabbed in Chest -- 9.5 damagesword

[rook]

willis keeni

for everyday robots getting old
when our lips are cold
lookin’ like standing stones
out there on our own

He shows up, out of the blue, like a hero arriving at a crisis at the opportune moment. Of course he does, he is Eye Saw - The melodramatic. He loves it. It's like he waited in the shrubs for us to run into trouble, just so he could fly in and save us all. That's why Laila loves him so much, because he's Mr. Charisma. He's the centre of attention. The Hero.
"He's back!" Beams Laila, "He's back!"
I can't help but to smile too. Whilst Eye's flash mentality is obnoxious at the best of times, it's good to know he isn't stuck, stranded on an island with a broken leg, dying slowly. Somehow, somehow he managed to swim back to land, find us, and rush to our aid. Never underestimate a Career, I guess.

They can't do it alone though. Yeah Eye may be back - The most experienced member of our alliance, but they're counting on me. They still need me to help. I feel the pressure digging into the temples on the side of my head, squeezing. This would all be so much easier if I was allowed just a drop of alcohol.

What the fuck am I talking about? Allowed? The Capitol may have put me on prohibition whilst I was their prisoner, but out here in the Arena, I am free. That's it. They can't hurt me anymore because this is my death sentence. I take the note from my pocket - The note that was inside the capsule with my Whiskey.

Don't drink it all at one
- Trina

Why would she give it to me, unless everyone in the betting centre, and back home knew that it would be of benefit? She wouldn't have spent my sponsorship money on Alcohol just so that the withdrawal symptoms would fade away, she spent it on the alcohol because I can use it as a weapon! Yes! It's brilliant! How did I not see it before? They gave it to me to stop my shaking, because that's what will keep me alive.

Eye, Laila and Claire, they don't need an anxiety struck slob, who can't swing a sword accurately. They need me to be drunk, as absurd as that sounds. This whole arena experience is becoming more and more surreal. In the end, how much damage can one bottle of Whiskey really do?

I flick open the cap, and close my eyes.
"Cheers..."
I pinch my nose and take two quick, but large gulps. My eyes sting and my throat burns, but it doesn't stop me. It won't be immediate, not my any means. Usually takes sixty seconds for the shaking to stop, and my vision to blur a little. I have drank a lot of alcohol in my sixteen years, but I'm still small, skinny and weak - It doesn't take much at all to get me drunk. Such a lightweight.

[Willis attacks Pygmy #2, Katana]
Yb8zvpqlsword
[Shallow Cut on Left Thigh -- 3.5 damage]

everyday robots just touch thumbs
swimmin’ in lingo they become
stricken in a status sea
one more vacancy

sword

[gamemaker kelsier]

“I'm waiting for the call, the hand on the chest
I'm ready for the fight and fate”

I'm getting real tired of this dainty ass sword shit. My leg has decided to stop working properly and now I can't seem to do more than scrape along the sides of the meat bags I attack. What happened to all my training, what happened to stabbing the fuck out of everything until it bleeds?

Maybe there is something within me, holding me back, making me unable to attack properly. Why am I holding back? I want to kill people and other things like cows, that's why I'm here, isn't it? So then why can't I seem to land any good hits? I feel like I'm failing them, even though I've literally risen from the dead about two times already. I didn't swim all the way off that island to fight like a sloppy little shit.

Sometimes I feel like they think I'm some hero, like I can fix anything. Mostly I'm just a disaster area that's never really been able to do anything right. I really don't understand why they trust me so much when I couldn't even take care of my own baby brother. It's funny who people choose to put their trust in in times of need. I wish I was a better killer, but I guess I'm just not into it, I can't land my sword right. I can't swing strong and true because my sword doesn't want to, or maybe my heart just isn't into it. I don't know, whatever this is, I need to toughen the fuck up because it is pissing me off.

I guess it sort of warms my heart that Laila is so excited to see me again. She's going to be the death of me. A shiver runs through me as I look at her and the oddest feeling rests itself on my chest. I'm sure of it. She's going to be the one that puts a stop to all this war. She is going to be the one to kill me. Then my gaze shifts to Willis and Claire. Both of them too actually. I bet they could both strike me down easily enough right now and I would barely be able to even fight back.

I don't know why I'm thinking about this.

Would they find it easy to attack me? I don't know. Maybe. They barely know me, I barely know them, would this still be just strangers meeting? I don't know.

Goddamnit, when did I get so thoughtful, this is annoying as hell. There's beef to fry. If those little shits think they can hurt Laila and Willis, they've got another thing coming to them. Fucking cows, thinking they can even touch this. I'll teach them.

[Eye attacks Cattle #2]
0ZauWBxusword
[1125 -- Shallow Cut on Right Calf -- 3.5 damage]sword

[loren]

[ c l a i r e p a r t r i d g e ]

. vit de district VII .
. une la fille seul .
. XIV ans .

"This life it's just a place in my mind
Through the window I find
I can stop time
'Cause dreams are crawling all over my head,
and you have those beautiful eyes
But I am a wicked child"

Aww, I hit him right in the face.

Or her. Wasn't quite sure on the gender of the pygmy cow. Never actually seen a pygmy cow before until this moment. Or any form of cattle, either. But it was sort of cute. All squirmy and puffy and cute. I should call it Noodle. Noodle is a very gender-neutral name. Equal parts masculine and feminine. Yeah. I really didn't want to cut Noodle, especially not in the face. And if it's friend hadn't just cut open Laila's thigh I probably would've asked if I could keep it. Reflecting back on it, I probably should've asked if I could've kept it. For some reason, Eye didn't seem quite as stab-happy as he was in the Cornucopia. Because Eye gets it. He knows a cute little living plushie when he sees one. That's why he's the crowd favorite.

Laila killed the first cow she saw. And even though I was now relieved to know half the alliance weren't cannibalistic traitors and one-fourth of the alliance wasn't being digested, a part of me still felt a bit off. I wanted to contribute more to the group, let them know even the most insignificant of ants could hoist burdens a hundred times their own weight upon their shoulders. But the difference between what I want and what I am was drawn in blood across Noodle's face, a shallow scratch amounting to nothing. I don't want to have to end a life to prove the worth in my own. 

" Now with my head in the clouds
I'll sit here and burn, I will burn
Save me, I'm not crazy,
I just fell through the ground
And now things are upside down "
x

[ template by zoe ]

[Claire attacks Cattle #2]
X2teqE9bglaive
13089 -- Severed Left Hand at Wrist -- 9.0 damageglaive

[Python]

We kill the lights and put on a show
It's all a lie

_______________________________________________________

L A I L A S Y C A M O R E
DISTRICT5 | THIRTEEN

_______________________________________________________

The cow’s organs squelched as her sword sucked its soul, blood gushing around the edges of the gash to match the stains along her thigh. She cursed its corpse over and over as she tried to distract herself from the burning with anger, but as soon as the life faded from its beady eyes there was nothing else she could do except hiss and grit her teeth between heavy breaths. She had only meant to capture herself a meal to subdue the desperate rumbling in her aching stomach – after all, the only other option was to collect plants, and she didn’t know the first thing about distinguishing the poisonous from the harmless. So when the opportunity presented itself she had snatched it with two thrusts of her blade, failing to consider the consequences – those entailing the pain that now flared across her nerves.

”Stupid cow,” she spat, yanking her sword out of its chest as her scattered allies continued to chase down the second one. She watched Eye finish it off with a swipe to the leg, causing the poor little shit to tumble into the grass and into its grave. Its tiny body left a small depression in the tall patch of grass, and from where she stood it looked like a white lump littered in patches of white and scarlet. She sheathed her sword as everyone ceased their scrambling – all except for Claire, who seemed determined to unleash her wrath upon the mutt even though it was nothing but raw meat waiting to be butchered and fried above a nice crackling fire. She managed to hack off one of its hooves, and although she wielded a huge scythe-looking thing she reminded Laila of an angry lumberjack.

”What are you doing?” She walked up to Claire and stared at the detached hoof. The extra act of violence had not been necessary. ”It’s already dead.” Her gaze flickered from ally to ally, ending its journey on Willis. He had a strange look about him, and she could’ve sworn she had seen him take a gulp of something from a bottle. Not that tainted salt water that was in a jug; no, she had seen a bottle. Like glass. Unless she was just losing her eyesight as well as her mind. ”So..how do we make steaks with this?” she suddenly asked, staring down at the two bloody corpses. She refused to eat them raw, that was for sure. How disgusting would that be? Blood juices seeping out of the meat as she chewed it? No way in hell. She was going to cook these little bastards over a fire until they were black and crisp with flavor. Unless her allies had a better idea.

She knelt to wrap her hands around the first cow’s hind legs and felt a sharp flash of white hot pain in the welt beneath her gi. She yelped and propped herself onto her knees, peering through the tear in the fabric to examine the wound. Somehow the little shit’s tail had lashed straight through the cloth as if it were a knife. The leg of her outfit was ruined, and so was the flesh beneath it. ”Ow,” she whined, pressing her hands against either side of the gash as if that would protect her from the pain. ”It hurts.” she chewed her lower lip as her leg began to quake. This was no time to be moaning like a child, yet here she was fighting tears and staring at a single stripe of red. This was nothing compared to Eye’s broken femur and he could bear it without shedding any tears. Careers are made of steel, she reminded herself. Of course they knew what pain felt like.

”Someone help me!”

_____________________________________________________
template by chelsey

[uses first aid on herself for -3]
[collects the meats?]

[rook]

willis keeni

for everyday robots getting old
when our lips are cold
lookin’ like standing stones
out there on our own

[Willis uses First Aid on Laila for -3]
[Willis picks two bundles of Medicinal Plants and one bundle of Edible Plants]
[Willis gives one bundle of Medicinal Plants to Laila]

everyday robots just touch thumbs
swimmin’ in lingo they become
stricken in a status sea
one more vacancy

[gamemaker kelsier]

“I'm waiting for the call, the hand on the chest
I'm ready for the fight and fate”

I step back, away from the mutts, shaking and tired. My breathe comes in short gasps, my head feels like it's trying to turn it's self inside out, my leg is aching to rip it's self off of my body and run away. I'm aching to assist it.

I'd love to lie and tell you that I'm currently feeling excellent, one hundred percent in every way, but that'd be wrong on so many levels. In all actuality, I think I might hurl. This pain is intent on worming it's way into every piece of me. I think my blood cells might be splintering under the strain of it. With some difficulty, I do my best to remain as clam looking as possible as I limp around the carcasses of the dead cow assholes. I wish I knew how to deal with this, I've never had to manage the pain from a broken femur before. A broken nose, sure. It's hard to breathe but you can still walk well enough without wanting to stab yourself in the eyeballs. I just want it to be over with. I just want to stop having to care about it.

This whole time, Ewe has been getting louder and louder in the back of my head. I haven't felt so close to him in over a year, not since before they took him away and never gave him back. Here, I can feel him on my back, can hear him in my ear. I remember asking him about his leg a few times, wondering what it felt like, if it always hurt him. He always just smiled. I think about him now and I really fucking miss him. I mean sure, he's been a dull throbbing sensation ever since he walked up onto that stage and I couldn't volunteer for him. It just hurts more now, somehow.

Then there's Calypso. I spent all night on that island just thinking about her, wondering still if she really doesn't love me back. I have gone over the expression on her face as she walked out of that room over and over again. I may be an illiterate high school drop out, but I am smart at some things. I can usually read people well enough. However, whenever I think of Cal, all I feel is a sharp knife carefully tearing it's way through both my lungs. I can't breathe when I think about her. I don't want to die thinking that she doesn't love me. I don't understand it. I can feel it though, it won't go away, no matter how much I try to focus on other things.

I guess that's what pain is, annoying, in the way. It stands in front of me, blocking every single route ahead, demanding my attention. For a few moments, I sheath the katana that has yet to gain a silly name and stand absolutely still. With no immediate threat, I shut my eyes and try to calm myself. I don't want to think about Ewe, nor Calypso. I do not want to think about how much I want to gnaw my leg off. I need to get away for a bit,I do what I've always been trained to do, and begin to go into the movements that I have done since my training began.

I begin by dispelling every feeling from my bones, waiting patiently until I distance myself from it. I then reach forward with one hand, pushing the other back so it looks like I am pushing a force away from both sides. I fix my stature so that there is some distance between my feet and take in deep breaths, moving on in this way from position to position. I pretend that I can hear waves in my head, hitting the side of my houseboat in the early morning, gentle and playful. The earth rocks beneath my feet and I can pretend that my father, my mother, my brother are all sleeping safe and sound beneath the deck.

If I keep my eyes shut, I can hear seabirds in the distance, I can smell salt. Maybe Ewe is sitting in front of me, sketchpad in his lap. He is drawing the sun rising up over the clouds, tongue sticking out in concentration, hair all mussed from sleep. Still, he talks, yammering on about the way plants get energy, something I don't care about. If I keep my eyes shut, I can imagine Cal, I can smell her, feel her, wrapping her arms over my shoulders to clasp around my neck. I can feel her breath on my ear, hear her whisper, feel the softness of her hair. Ashes fall from the sky around e and I feel like I am slowly disintegrating, but it's alright. She's got a basket, she'll pick me back up. It's all alright.

I breathe in deep, and then release.

When I open my eyes again, I am back. My leg hurts. I'm tired and still damp from this morning's swim. Laila is kneeling on the ground, Willis helping her. Claire is standing over a Pygmy looking hell bent on it's destruction and I am back.

I feel about one hundred percent better, and I think maybe I'm finally beginning to get the hang of this whole meditation thing. Master would be proud, I'll tell him if I ever see him again. When I see him again. When. I am not dying here. Dying is for assholes. It occurs to me of course that if I want to make it out of here, Claire, Willis, Laila. They'd all have to die. So I choose not to dwell on that and instead shake my head roughly, like a dog freshly washed.

Working a grin onto my face, I walk over to Claire and the cows. She's just finished hacking at one of it's hooves. I stand beside her for a few choice moments and speculate over the cow. It's no longer moving. I think it probably bled out after my last laceration. I move my gaze to Claire herself, who looks immensely proud over the hoof that lies separate from the rest of the muttation. After a few moments of silence, I bend down and press two fingers against it's little cow neck. There is nothing. No movement whatsoever. Confirming this, I nod slowly and look up at my ally. "This miserable little shit is definitely one hundred percent dead Claire, we're probably cool to stop now," I say, not unkindly. My fingers are already aching to tear at the dead animal's body, to gorge myself on it's meat. All that running, all that fear, all that pain, well, it really takes a lot out of a guy.

"In fact, does anyone want to make a fire?"

[Eye uses first aid on self for -3]
[uses one iodine tablet to purify water]
[eye collects pygmy meat]

[loren]

[ c l a i r e p a r t r i d g e ]

. vit de district VII .
. une la fille seul .
. XIV ans .

"This life it's just a place in my mind
Through the window I find
I can stop time
'Cause dreams are crawling all over my head,
and you have those beautiful eyes
But I am a wicked child"

Ya so I may or may not have performed an amputation on a cow that was already dead LET'S ALL GET OVER IT ALREADY.

I just wanted a piece of it. I don't know why but I wanted a piece of Noodle the cow to hold unto and keep and I don't know why. I don't know why, being hit stricken in iced fear of Laila and Willis killing me and eating my body to seeing Eye was alive and relatively well and 

I don't have anything. The first night. The first few breaths of an air that sits like sand to erode away your insides sitting in an hourglass until all your sands run dry. That's what being in here is. Not seeing who's the most apt to survive but who can hold unto their sands longer than the rest. And it's still impossible to convince myself I'll never see home again. I'll never smell fresh thyme and mint and those marigolds I planted near the back fence... 

It's kind of sad that that makes me the most upset. Not never seeing anyone at the Partridge home ever again. Not that the chances of me dying by the hands of Laila or Willis or Eye are hellishly high. Not that I'm going to die without ever being kissed or cared for or ever owning my own cat.

My marigolds are going to die. They showed the first spit of green days before the Reaping and now they're going to die. They didn't do anything wrong to nobody, but they're going to die. I can't rely on any of those useless shits at the Partridge home to go and water them for me. And sometimes the world's amazing, you know? Sometimes wildflowers bloom when there's nobody there to water them. There are flowers, weak little dancers that still burn as bright as they can in their fragility, that spring up beside roads and behind restaurants that nobody notices. They just live their entire lives little weaklings, wanting nothing more than to have their lilies be smelled, and die. That's when you know the world's pretty fucked up. That they raised up a weak child to believe and then ripped that hope away.

"In fact, does anyone want to make a fire?"

I let myself wander and wade a bit from the group. I had a bleeding cow's foot in my hand and it needed a skirt. 

My prettiest doll back at the orphanage was named Emilia. And she was hands down the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life. Prettier than the winter's first snowflake. Prettier than the winter's last snowflake. Prettier than every opalescent morning sky in between. She was gorgeous.

But she was also really mean. Mean to me, she had a tongue like knives that could pack a stab like a bayonet. She'd insult my dresses and hair and never want to dance, no matter the song. I guess the prettiest girls are all like that. Like a hurricane and the rainbow all at once. And even though being around Emilia usually ended in my sobbing in the washrooms, I never threw her away. I never let her fall and shatter. I never hid her in a cabinet or box stowed in the attic.

I dressed the foot in a grass skirt, and found some herbs left over. I held it close to my chest and fell back unto the ground.

I'm not a warrior. I'm a child who plays with dolls. I'm a flower on the side of the road that someone watered but no one claimed and is going to die. All my lost sand is going to bury me alive.

" Now with my head in the clouds
I'll sit here and burn, I will burn
Save me, I'm not crazy,
I just fell through the ground
And now things are upside down "
x

[ template by zoe ]

[Claire picks one bundle of Medicinal Plants and two bundles of Edible Plants]