{{ or chasm || feast - day 5}}

[aya]

An inferno burns deep within the chasm, illuminating the narrow ring around seemingly-bottomless pit. In the glow of the hellfires, you can make out the silhouettes of burlap sacks dangling over the edge on thick iron hooks, like the carcasses of dead animals. Upon closer inspection, each bag appears to be numbered from 1 to 9.

The feast will work somewhat like the Bloodbath, but with a few key changes. Please read this post IN ITS ENTIRETY before beginning to post at the feast.

Similar to the Bloodbath, tributes MUST make an intro post before beginning to fight; the stealth station does not apply. Also as in the Bloodbath, there is no set posting order; however, you must have a minimum of three posts before you can attack again, with at least one post being someone not from your alliance. A violation of any of these rules will result in an an added 8 damage points, as in the Bloodbath.

EVERYONE must make an intro post before anyone attacks. You have until Saturday 11/15 at 11:59PM EST to do so.

Specific Feast rules:

• You MUST make two attacks before grabbing an item. Please specify at the end of your second attack post what number bag you will be grabbing.
  
• All tributes are required to grab an item; you may not just enter and flee.
  
• Once an item is grabbed, you must make THREE consecutive flee posts without attacking before you are considered fled with your item.
  
• Should you choose to drop the item after you pick it up, you may flee in TWO consecutive flee posts instead of three.
  
• Tributes caught stalling their entry in order to avoid being attacked will face a penalty. Consider yourself warned.
  
• There is no 'wealth' in this feast. Tributes may take one item only.
  

Sacks left:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9

Good luck, tributes!

Let the 68th Hunger Games's Feast begin!

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[/blockquote][/size][/justify]

[Cato]

Crusader Rhodes
district 11 male of the 68th hunger games

Will I ever see the light of day again without hearing those faces appearing before my eyes? Each time a light shines bright someone dies, or someone's face appears in the sky. I'm tired of hiding in the dark where monsters lurk beside me. Maybe if I could find the others remaining in the arena we could do something to stop the rest from dying. I've heard many cannons, and I know more are here to come, but I want to prevent them. I don't want anymore people to die for the sake of the Capitol. It's sick and disgusting. It's like I'm watching my parents die over and over again. They didn't die by the hand of anyone else, though, they died protecting me. I promised to protect Stella, but I walked away from her. I let her hand fall away from mine. I left her because I had no other option. I watched what she did without thinking twice about it. I've survived four long nights in this horrible place, and I haven't had to kill anyone, but I haven't stopped anyone from killing either. It's wrong, and I want to change it, but I can't. Maybe if I have the others join with me we could end this all, yet I don't think that'll happen. Not in an arena where so many people are bloodthirsty. Not when they want death.

When the anthem blares through the arena, I feel my heart drop into my stomach. I don't want to know who's dead and who's alive. What if I see Esme or Stella? What if they are there? I failed to protect twice, and I don't want to see them in the sky. But the first face I see catches me completely off guard, and I turn my eyes away. I can't look anymore. I don't want to know who died or how many people are still alive because it's getting closer for me to kill, and I don't want to kill. It's wrong taking someone's life, yet it amazes me as the others in here attack like it's so easy, like there's not anything wrong in it. Esme didn't hesitate to kill the guy from one. Stella didn't hesitate to kill my friend, but all I've done is hesitate. I don't know how I'm still alive right now. I don't want to have to kill anyone, but what would I do if someone struck me with a blade? I don't know. I can't know. It was stupid of me to think the games were friendly, but I can't help it. I don't know what I'm going to do. Why does the games change people? Why can't I change people? Why can't I force them to become the same innocent people they were before the games? Am I going to have to make a stand? Will I fight them? Will I kill them? Can I kill them?

That night I didn't sleep, I couldn't sleep. With so little tributes remaining in the arena, I have to be careful. I have to stay on my guard, but it's so dark, and I'm starting to hate the dark. I can hear the screams echoing through the arena. I can hear footsteps bouncing off the walls as people, things, monsters move. Am I one of those monsters in the arena? Am I the one that's going to kill anyone remaining? I am not a killer. I've remained true to myself so far, and now I can't break it. I can't trash everything that I know, but now it's life or death. I hold the sword out in front of me squinting in every direction trying to make anything out, but I know it's impossible. I don't want to die, but I don't want to fight. I want to call out to whatever, or whoever is coming closer, but I can't. I want to make a difference. I want to stop the fighting, but here I am about to do exactly what I don't want to do. Fighting isn't right, and I hate the damage I've caused on my own, but today I don't have a choice. I have to fight or die, and if I die I can't protect Stella. And that's a promise I made. Maybe someone will join me in taking a stand against the Capitol before it's too late. Today I go to war. Not with the other tributes who are thirsting for my blood, but against the Capitol. I will play their damn game if that's what they want. Only I will show them that I'm not a pawn.

-Crusader Rhodes enters the feast-

[Knuckles]

[googlefont="Satisfy:400;"]

Esme Truus

When the days are cold
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold
When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood's run stale

She was falling towards the ground, arms held out in front of her with hopes of breaking the fall, waiting for the impact that might end it all. A warm liquid gushed from her veins where her leg was once attached to her body with every heart beat painting her and everything else red. Sweat poured down her face and mixed with the crusted, dried blood, and the rushing tears she wished were gone. She counted silently until her hands met the moist, grainy surface below her sending shock waves of pain vibrating through her arms deep into her shoulders. The roaring of the rapids, her own screams, the howls of whatever lurked inside the arena mixed together until all she heard was one giant roar.

A cannon shot through the arena and blocked out the sound of the rapids for only a moment, reminding her where she was. Darkness consumed every inch of her. Water crashed against the rocks in the river bed echoing off the walls of the arena. Every hair on her arm stood straight. She shook her head fighting the memories pouring into her mind of her leg laying on the ground beside the body of the boy she tore into pieces. His body belonged to a career, but he wasn't just any career; Asa had stood beside her in the fight against the rancor, cheering her on, and she repaid him by killing him. Esme Truus wasn't who she once was. She wasn't the sweet, innocent little girl she was before the reaping. That Esme was dead, and in her place was a reborn Esme, one that wasn't afraid of killing.

The corners of her lips turned into a smile spreading completely across her face. With her teeth bared, she laughed hysterically. Her hand wrapped around the handle of the flashlight she took from him, and she flicked it on. A sense of hope rose into her chest as she turned the tiny beam of light in every direction. A large pool of blood rested under her leg coating the ground making it bleed crimson. For the first time she saw the damage he done to her. Her nails dug into the ground allowing her the grip she needed. She drug herself across the ground, through the pool of blood, until her leg was next to her. The leg didn't belong to her anymore; it was another victim claimed by the games, but this time the owner wasn't giving in. The only way the Capitol would take her leg was to pry it from her cold, dead body.

In the arena, Esme only found one way of telling the night from the day. It was like clockwork. The anthem blared through the arena bouncing off the walls as an eerie green light lit the arena for only a moment showing the faces of the ones who managed the escape from the walls of darkness. Her face wiped clear of emotions as the face of Asa appeared above her head. It felt like someone took a knife and carved a giant hole into her stomach draining her of everything leaving an emotionless shell on top of the bones. He deserved the death he received, and she was happy she was granted the strength she needed. His death might have been prevented if only he turned a light on; instead, he decided to remove the leg from her body. He received exactly what he deserved, and Esme wasn't sorry, not even a little.

None of the other faces mattered because Crusader was still alive somewhere hiding with the other monsters. Maybe he's the monster that took the life of Kirk and Animus since they died the moment she left them. He would pay for killing them if he took their lives, yet Esme has no way of knowing what had happened. Very few remain standing in the way of the crown, and she wanted that crown. The crown of the innocent lives torn into pieces by her own blade. The darkness surrounded her except the tiny beam of light shining from the flashlight she held in her hand. It didn't belong to her; she stole it from the career she slaughtered. Stealing was wrong, but here in the arena where her life counted on any light source she could find. Someone would pay for everything they had ever done. She leaned against the wall allowing the sound of the rapids to consume her body.

Don't do this Esme. Don't kill. You don't have to.

Yes, I do.

Don't kill. It'll only make you a horrible person.

Then I already am a horrible person.

Don't do this.

You don't understand. I have to. I have to.

You're a horrible person.

"I AM NOT A HORRIBLE PERSON!"A voice she didn't recognize as her own echoed off the walls around her mixing with the sounds of the rapids, the sounds of the monsters screaming in the night, and the sound of her heart pounding against her chest walls. The angel seated on her shoulder flew away without saying another word tearing her soul in half. Nothing mattered anymore except taking the crown from those remaining. Only this crown wasn't one most wanted. Esme wanted the heads of her victims. Their crown belonged to her, and nobody else in the arena. She didn't care what happened as long as she walked away from this place. The promise she made to herself about staying true and not letting the games change her broke. Innocent souls were lurking in the dark, and Esme was prepared to take every last one of them out.

Using the sword as a crutch, she hopped onto her foot trying to move through the arena, but a never ending source of water flooded the grounds. The sword fell out from under her, and she was falling, flailing around until she splashed deep into the water. Her hand tightened around the flashlight, but the tiny beam shining her light before her let on to how bad she was shaking. A drum beat inside her chest rapidly. Th-ump. Th-ump. Th-ump. Her breathing quickened forcing adrenaline throughout her entire body. The muscles inside her chest tightened every time she moved. One leg. Her family must be worried. Shame on them. The light shined through the dark, never ending tunnels. No sense of direction, no sense of time, just darkness and the only sound of the constant roars of monsters lurking somewhere inside. Each corner she turned, fear crept up through her raising the hairs on her very arms. Chills ran up and down her spine as she continued moving, swimming, floating whatever she was doing through the water now covering the floor. She stopped dead in her tracks looking at the fire made out in front of her. A fire set by the gamemakers so everyone in the nation could enjoy watching as the nine remaining tributes stood next to each other fighting for the crown waiting when eight more cannons sounded.

Esme looked through the fire amazed it was shining brightly, yet it was dim as she only made out the silhouettes of sacks hanging in the distance. Dragging herself closer, her eyes rested on the numbers printed neatly on the fronts of them. Nothing about this entire situation seemed right. A howl sounding much like the beast she fought before fills the air, but it's not from any beast; it's her, Esme. There she was, a fourteen year old kid, standing with her lips curled back, her teeth bared, foam forming around her lips as she waited for the next innocent person. Oh how she looked forward to tearing them limb from limb, for their blood to paint her skin. The games aren't over yet, and Esme just started playing. Fire danced in front of her eyes showing the faces of her next victims.

Esme Truus enters the feast

template by Anzie

[Deleted]

[presto][/presto]

C H A  L E V I A N E

Never had she ever felt more alone than the last night she spent with Finn and Stella.

Finn's words had gone silent, mouth stitched shut with a string of pain and loss and tied off with indecency. She hadn't heard him speak since the rats took everything that they never had, and a part of her longed for him to nag her like in the training center. 

Maybe he had stopped talking. Or maybe she just stopped listening.

Was it five days ago when she had died internally?

She had felt fire in the bloodbath, not from a torch or from tar but from herself. She had found it somewhere inside of her own mind, inside of her body. Past the hammock and the stars and the moon and-

and the Sun.

Once, Shelby had asked her to watch the sunrise with her, and although their time of bedtime stories and cover tucks was over, and although Shelby's question had been answered with a black hole star, her sister had never told her just how much it had hurt her.

And she had never asked.

Because when she had been tasked with finding herself, through admiring the stars and the moon night after night, only stopping when the sunlight burned through her star studded eyelids, she had never bothered with wondering how it had made Shelby feel to be completely, totally ignored.

By her own sister.

By her own blood.

Maybe thats why she feels so alone right now, as some sort of twisted punishment for what'd she done in her past. Maybe thats why when she rubs her reattached tongue against the roof of her mouth she wishes it was off again.

She'd awoken on a table, bright lights staining her conscience and her eyelids, mouth reset like it was new, a green cheeked doctor staring at her like she was some kind of animal.

Because maybe she was an animal.

Maybe she was just some selfish, wretched being. 

She had drank without offering Finn any.

She had fled without making sure if the people she had told herself she would protect were behind her. 

The anthem blares and she forces herself not to look

not to hear

not to care

But Templesmith's voice pounds through her eardrums, and what he says makes her want to scream, to tell Finn and Stella that they were going to be ok.

But she doesn't, and she falls asleep with the map Shelby gave her keeping her company. 

She awakes alone.

The map is gone. 

And she screams, because even though it was torn beaten, stained and destroyed, it was her only lifeline to home.

And it was gone.

And so were Stella and FInn, taking with them her hope.

She drags the spear through the water behind her, body wet with the rocky water and her own tears.

Cha Leviane

Selfish.

Intolerable.

Alone.

[Cha Leviane enters the feast]

[presto][/presto]

[rook]

{ p a t r i c i a v a l f i e r n o}

thank you, i'll say goodbye soon
though it's the end of the world
don't blame yourself

The walls and floors feel damp and cold. The road is gone - The road we set ourselves on five days ago. It's like I've lost sight of it, and now I have no direction or destination. Barnabas is dead, and I was powerless to stop it, again. It's just a vicious circle of helpless instinct. I see it happen, but I can never influence it. It's like my actions are not my own. I weep tears for that, and for what little humanity remains in me.

I never wanted to kill anyone. Maybe initially, when I put on a cold mask and pretended that the other Tributes were nothing more than numbers on a list that needed crossing off. Now, this far in, I only have one name, and it haunts my mind constantly. Zelphyr, Zelphyr, Zelphyr. I tremble in silence, staring at the rock surface beneath me. Pearl's sobs are gentle, and together with the dripping of water from stalactites, sadly relaxing.

"Thank you." I mutter, chilling eyes staring downwards. Always downwards. I can't bring myself to look at her, not yet. I have let her down - I have let all of us down. Barnabas most of all. His life was lost because of my own inexperience and hot-headed arrogance. I lost focus. I dropped the ball.

Sniffs and sobs. Nearly a hiccup.
"For what?" She gently probes. My statement was broad, but I would have thought she would have known why I was thanking her. Without Pearl, I would certainly not be alive right now. She is a Career, born and bred. For them, it's not about surviving in the Games, it's about thriving in the Games.

"Saving my life." I swallow. Gentle acknowledgement can make a world of difference. In here, we only have each other. If I don't thank Pearl now for this, then I might not get another chance later on. Each second is precious. I know that now. I know that I can never go back and talk to Barnabas. I can never tell him that he was a good person, who had my back despite my obvious flaws. Despite threatening him. Despite insulting him. Despite degrading him. He should have whispered the word to Asa on that first night and had me killed. But he didn't. He saw the good in me. I can't thank him for it now.

"I didn't save your life, we just ran." She says it like it is fact. Simple fact. Nothing is simple anymore. Change is ripe. She's overlooking the facts and skipping to how things ended. We did a lot of things before we decided to ran, not least of all letting them kill Barnabas. My eyes sting at the thought of Barnabas' cries for help, silenced in one movement.
"You killed Blaire." I remind her, letting out a hollow laugh, "He was my District Partner - But that didn't matter. He would have killed me anyway."
Blaire Sycamore, who shared a train carriage with me, who shared a floor with me for two weeks, shared a mentor, shared a home. Wanted to share his sword with me too. Good riddance.

"I don't know about that," She says between sobs, "But he killed Barnabas without batting an eye and then I killed him the same way, I didn't even feel guilty. That makes me a bad person, doesn't it?" She turns to me, and I make the decision to look her in the eye. I regret it, feeling myself well-up at the sight of her emotions. I've killed, she's killed - But we're not killers. We don't do it like it's a job, we do it on instinct. There's that word again - Instinct. Maybe that's why we've survived where others haven't. We're not bad people. I don't look at Pearl and see someone with bad intentions or morals.
"I don't think there are good people or bad people anymore, Pearl. We just do what we can to survive. Don't feel guilty for that." She doesn't deserve that on her shoulders, just like she didn't deserve the burden of the girl on the first day. I wish I could take it from her, and carry it. Pearl deserves the world, but the world doesn't deserve her.
"He has a family, I can't ignore that. They must hate me." She persists. I am adamant to not let her hate herself for this. All twenty-four of us have families. Do the Capitol think of that? No. They let us kill each other and ruin the lives of those we love. It's a chain reaction waiting to viciously react.
"You have to put yourself first." I mutter, almost too quietly. Am I speaking to myself, or to her? We can't let the deaths of others contribute to our own. We have to be stronger than that.
"I can't. I put Barnabas first, and now I'm going to put you first no matter what happens. I can't help it." That hits me. That she would put me before herself. I don't deserve that.
"My sister Diamond always said I was too selfless. She's right." She stubbornly puts, and I screw up my face. I didn't even know Pearl had a sister.
"Barnabas is dead, Pearl." I remind her. She put him first and he's dead. I don't particularly want her putting me first if I will end up the same way.
"I know. I couldn't save him." She says sadly. I don't allow her to dwell on it.
"But you saved me. As much as I appreciate that, you can't give your life up for someone else, not least me."

I'm not worth her sacrifices. Not a single one of them. I'm not used to people putting themselves on the line for me when I can barely come up with a reason to keep going for myself. When your self-worth is this low, it's baffling to hear that someone else will move mountains for your cause. Then, I suppose, that's the beauty in other people. They see you in different lights than your own tainted filter.

"I want to save myself too, but I'll probably end up trying to save the both of us when I can't." The sadness in her voice cracks, and I wince like a part of myself has broken.
"You can. You're capable now. I had my doubts, but after Blaire..." I swallow, images of his cut up body resurface at the front of my mind, "After what happened. I have faith."

Faith. Since when did I ever have faith in anything. Things are changing too much, and I don't know if I can keep up with it all.
"I can't save both of us if there's only one winner." She drops the ultimatum, but it does not scare me. I know that Pearl won't kill me, not here and now nor under these current circumstances. She knows the same goes for her, too. There might have been a time where I considered killing all my allies in their sleep, but such a time of distrust and coldhearted envy has been lost in this mournful cloud. All that noise, now gone. We only have each other now. Without Pearl, I think I would go insane. I know I would.

I look down at my wounds. The gash on my thigh, the cut on my arm. The blood loss has been far from ideal, and the pain, although numbing, is a reminder.
"I don't think that'll be an issue for too much longer."

Pessimism. Bane of my existence, so I'm told. You won't get anywhere with that attitude. They would spit at me, jibe from afar, never getting too close to my cage. Wrong, again. The optimists die first. Happy-go-lucky, fun fuelled maniacs that cling to hope like it's some kind of solution. Nah, I'd rather take the pessimism and survive, or at least be realistic about my chances.
The anthem lights up the cave walls, and my eyes scan the faces of the fallen.
"Shit." I find my mouth moving on it's own as Asa's face is printed green on the cave walls. Barney's soon follows. I swallow, my eyes sting and my throat clogs. How did this ever happen? What were the odds of me ending up in the Games? If the wind had been different, or the Capitol representative was different, then I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have had to say goodbye to people I care about, then meet new people I care about, then lose them all over again. This downward spiral only has one ending, and all I can do I close my eyes and wait for it to happen.

"Was it stupid to expect him to come back?" Pearl manages between sobs. She hoped he would, and heaven knows I did too. I was praying to whatever gods were listening. Praying for Asa to save us. Fool's hope, it was. Asa was dead. I had to take responsibility and get us out of there.
"Optimistic." I say the word like it is poison, "Not stupid."
I guess I am kind of relieved that he is dead. He didn't trust me, nor like me. With Tributes wearing thin, it was only a matter of time before he made the decision to kill me. Now he's dead, I can at least sleep knowing he's not going to slit my throat. Still, his experience and knowledge was key to us surviving this long, and if we're going to continue then we need to rely on what Pearl knows.

"I should stop being optimistic." Pearl decides. It's odd, because she never struck me as an optimist. I have never seen Pearl Millison smile, and that makes me sad. A cloud seems to hang over her, and I suppose she must see me under that same cloud. It's not unusual, it's just the way this world works.
"Maybe. Maybe not." I stare at the ground, wanting it to open up and let us out into whatever is waiting for us. It would be nice for this cave to hatch, so that we can walk on grass, born again.

"Are you optimistic?" She asks. Categorically no. I've always despised optimism for all the false hope it carries. Yet I wouldn't call myself a pessimist either. I'm just down to earth. I accept things for what they are.
"I don't think I'm either. I just... I just survive." I mutter, stroking my forearm lightly, overwhelmed by the enormity of where we are and what we have done. Each second passing feels heavier.
Maybe I should tell her. I mean, we've both survived for five days now. We've both killed. We've both done things that are beyond human. If we're going to die, she deserves to know the truth. She deserves to know all she has done, so that she can make peace with her demons.
"You were a killer. All along, you were a killer, Pearl." I reveal. Images of that day flash rapidly before me. Blood. Screaming. Lifeless bodies. It was awful, and it will never leave me. What I did will never leave me.
"You killed that girl on the first day."

"Did you lie to me to spare my feelings?" She asks. I can't tell if she's angry or upset, or both. I swallow again. She seems distant and withdrawn in her tone, almost changed. I fear that.
"No." I tell her the truth of it. It wasn't to comfort her or take away that burden, at least not initially. Maybe I can now appreciate that side-effect.
"I lied to you to make myself big - Because I was scared. I was very scared of what people thought of me, and the impression I made on them. I needed to be powerful and dangerous. I made out that I killed that girl because if I hadn't, I would have looked weak."
And what a fucking awful person I am. Hypocritical, double-standards, two-faced. Piss on all my beliefs.

"I was scared."
"But you killed the girl before her. You were already dangerous."
"It wasn't enough, Pearl. Don't you see?"
"One's an accident. Two's intention."
starts to break down
hug
"You're still strong, even if you didn't kill the second girl."
"Is that what am I? Someone who has to kill other children to prove their strength? To keep myself just high enough up the pecking order to not be killed?"
"I don't want to be that."
"You're brave. That's a sign of strength. You don't have to kill to me strong, just look at me. I've killed twice and I'm still not as strong as you."
"You are so much stronger than me, Pearl."
"How?"
"We've both survived this long, and you're not the one crying."
"That's because I've been crying all day. I'm too exhausted now."
"When you were being trained, back home - Did they ever tell you how to get over it? The killing, I mean?"
"Not really. People don't think of killing as a big deal in District One."
"Some people like the idea of it."
"But not everyone?"
"Not everyone."
been staring at the ground for like two mins
"But they make you all killers anyway?"
"Not all of us, but my mom is a victor. I didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice."
"There is once you're not a little kid anymore, but I chose not to be thrown out of my house. I can't survive by myself."
"No one can survive by themselves. I know that much. What point is there in surviving if there's no one to survive for?"
"I'm glad I've got you."
"I'm glad I've got you too." 'for now' she thought, bc pessimsm
"Get some sleep."
"Okay."

and if it's true
i will surround you
and give life to a world
that's our own

word count: --, graphics: rook
theme: goodbye to a world by porter robinson

[Python]

P E A R L M I L L I S O N

She couldn’t pinpoint the stirring inside of her chest. It wasn’t guilt, and it wasn’t triumph. It was some sort of bewildering medium channeling from head to toe, numbing her extremities until the inevitable crashing of enormous feet sounded behind her. She had killed Blaire Sycamore. The stripe carved across his back was the evidence, but there was no time to dwell or linger; a claw hacked away the last shreds of her leg armor, and this time she could feel the pain like a white hot burning of flesh. Her forehead touched the cavern floor, and when she lifted her eyes she could see Barnabas still lying in the distance in the narrow light of her flashlight. She couldn’t tell whether he was breathing or not, but a cannon had yet to signal. She stood up and rushed to him, walking off the stinging in her leg.

”Barnabas?” Her tear ducts were empty but her cheeks were still damp. She could see his chest struggling to rise, but it was moving. He was alive. “I’m going to take a nap,” he croaked meekly. He was pale and withering, all of the blood having been drained from his hip and his skull. She wondered if he was in pain. “I love you.” Her throat closed up and to suppress her cries she simply nodded, and leaned over to plant a kiss on his forehead. If she spoke, she knew she would just start crying again. He wouldn’t want to see that.

She watched him die, eyes closed and mouth relaxed. Two consecutive cannons pounded against her eardrums. Patricia appeared at her side. It was time to leave.

They fled in silence.

She remained collected until the adrenaline abandoned her. Together in a shared silence they patched Patricia up the best they could, and Pearl felt the weight of the world slowly descending upon her. She cried as she wrapped bandages around Patricia’s leg. She cried as she stitched the gash on her calf. She cried because Barnabas was dead and Asa was lost. She cried because they didn’t deserve it.

She cried because Patricia could be next.

”Thank you.”

They sat together with little space between them. Pearl paused in her sniffles for the first time in what felt like an hour, and raised her head – not that she could see anything. She had stashed her goggles and flashlight away to distance herself from the arena as much as she could. ”For what?” Tears smudged her cheeks, and she started wiping them away. She didn’t want to sound so pitiful when she was speaking to someone as sturdy as Patricia.

”Saving my life.”

She didn’t recall. Barnabas had been cut down, Pearl had failed in her rescue of his life, and then she had slain Blaire where he stood. When had she defended Patricia amidst all of that chaos? ”I didn’t save your life, we just ran,” she said, because that was all they did. They watched Barnabas die and they escaped, lives weaker but still intact. Patricia had bled the most, and they spent quite a bit of time trying to mend her wounds and scan their surroundings for followers. Tauankia’s menacing smiles were still ingrained behind her eyes. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had decided to track them down and plan a sneak attack.

”You killed Blaire. He was my District Partner.” Patricia laughed without humor. ”That didn't matter. He would have killed me anyway.” Pearl didn’t believe that. Blaire’s intentions had been obvious; kill Barnabas, defend himself, survive. That was it. ”I don’t know about that,” she started, ”But he killed Barnabas without batting an eye, and then I killed him the same way. I didn't even feel guilty. That makes me a bad person, doesn't it?” It did, she knew it did. She felt like the monster she never wanted to be – the monster her mother wanted her to be from the start. There was guilt lurking inside of her, but it was the wrong kind of guilt. She was guilty for her lack of guilt. She was guilty for an indifference to a sin.

”I don't think there are good people or bad people anymore, Pearl. We just do what we can to survive. Don't feel guilty for that.”

She shook her head. ”He has a family, I can't ignore that. They must hate me.” She could picture their faces on the other side of the hidden lenses, all distorted into hateful glares and mourning masks. They all wanted her to die. She didn’t want to die, but perhaps she deserved it. ”You have to put yourself first.”

Diamond said that too, and so had her mother. Being a career was all about being selfish and tactical. I am neither.

”I can't. I put Barnabas first, and now I'm going to put you first no matter what happens. I can't help it.” She could finally breathe properly, and dried the rest of her tears with the collar of her shirt – the sections that weren’t coated in blood. "My sister Diamond always said I was too selfless. She's right.”

”Barnabas is dead, Pearl."

I know.

She didn’t need a reminder, but she figured she deserved one. ”I know. I couldn't save him."

”But you saved me. As much as I appreciate that, you can't give your life up for someone else, not me at least.”

Why not? Pearl knew she wasn’t going to win anyway. She thought it useful to play the game for somebody else instead, and since Barnabas was lost and Asa was nowhere to be found, she might as well play it for the last friend at her side. ”I want to save myself too, but I'll probably end up trying to save the both of us when I can't.” And honestly, she felt like a failure already. How could she save two people when she couldn’t save Barnabas?

”You can. You're capable now. I had my doubts, but after Blaire...” Patricia paused for only an instant. “After what happened, I have faith.”

That made one of them.

”I can't save both of us if there's only one winner.”

The anthem interrupted them. Patricia chimed in with, ”I don't think that'll be an issue for too much longer.”

Pearl didn’t have time to reflect, because the moment her eyes flickered to the ceiling the familiar portrait of Asa Reau was staring back at her. Patricia’s curse was lost to her ears. She could process nothing but the sinking of her organs into her shoes, and the tears that invaded her eyes. It must’ve been impossible to run out of them. ”Was it stupid to expect him to come back?” she said, voice quivering. Part of her had expected him to show up and punish her for her crimes, and but another had just been confirmed – the part that thought of the lost as doomed. Worst part was, she would never know how he died.

She supposed she should be grateful that the two bodies who cuddled together at night did not have to witness each other’s demise. It didn’t promise any sort of closure or relief; it was just a factoid drifting around in her mind, but it was better than nothing. It was better than the suffering that could’ve been.

”Optimisic. Not stupid.”

She had promised herself not to be too optimistic, and now she couldn’t even do that. ”I should stop being optimistic.”

”Maybe. Maybe not.”

The raw meat in her stomach churned. She prayed that it would settle soon, or she would lose it and starve. She faintly registered the announcement of the feast, and clenched her fists. Tomorrow could kill them both. ”Are you optimistic?”

”I don't think I'm either. I just... I just survive,” she said. Pearl nodded. That sounded like her. She had been destined to survive since the beginning.

Silenced wedged itself between them for a while. She considered volunteering to take first watch simply because she couldn’t sleep with so much on her mind and so much making her stomach upset, but Patricia didn’t let the noiseless evening stretch on. ”You were a killer,” she said, and she thought she might vomit this time. ”All along you were a killer, Pearl. You killed that girl on the first day.”

She blinked, and then she remembered. The one they had cornered in the bloodbath. The one she had closed her eyes and bashed with the edge of a wooden torch. She had asked Patricia what happened, and she lied. She said she did it.

I did it?

Exhaustion probed the insides of her eyes until they ached. It was like a sickness that withheld her tears. Or perhaps she had finally been drained of sorrow completely. ”Did you lie to me to spare my feelings?” she asked quietly, voice resembling the feeble squeak of a mouse.

”No. I lied to you to make myself big. Because I was scared. I was very scared of what people thought of me, and the impression I made on them. I needed to be powerful and dangerous. I made out that I killed that girl because if I hadn't, I would have looked weak.” Pearl blinked at the darkness between them. ”I was scared.”

”But you killed the girl before her. You were already dangerous.”

”It wasn't enough, Pearl. Don't you see? One's an accident. Two's intention.”

She didn’t see it that way. Three deaths could be accidents. Two deaths could both be a stroke of luck. One death could be intentional. She snaked her arms around Patricia; one didn’t need sight to sense that something was breaking inside of the redhead. ”You're still strong, even if you didn't kill the second girl.”

”Is that what am I? Someone who has to kill other children to prove their strength? To keep myself just high enough up the pecking order to not be killed? I don't want to be that.”

Neither do I.

”You're brave. That's a sign of strength. You don't have to kill to be strong, just look at me. I've killed twice and I'm still not as strong as you.”

”You are so much stronger than me, Pearl.”

She didn’t understand. Her arms retreated to her lap, and she pressed her back against the cave walls again. ”How?”

”We've both survived this long, and you're not the one crying.”

”That's because I've been crying all day. I'm too exhausted now.” She felt empty and decaying. Sleep seemed like the best option, but there were too many thoughts haunting her. She didn’t know if fatigue was enough to lull her to sleep.

”When you were being trained, back home - Did they ever tell you how to get over it? The killing, I mean?”

Home. It wasn’t a District suited to her, but anything was better than here. ”Not really. People don't think of killing as a big deal in District One. Some people like the idea of it.” Her mother, for example, reveled in her own kills from her own Games. There were other people in the district who loved it too much. Murders were not uncommon, and catching perpetrators was even less common. ”But not everyone?”

She thought of herself. ”Not everyone.”

”But they make you all killers anyway?”

She wondered what it was like in Patricia’s district. Career oppression was nonexistent there, so what did it feel like? Freedom, or a disadvantage? ”Not all of us,” she began, thinking of the underprivileged families in One who were always disregarded and stepped on. It was almost as if those citizens didn’t exist. ”But my mom was a victor. I didn’t have a choice.”

”There's always a choice.”

The culture of districts was always misunderstood. ”There is once you’re not a little kid anymore, but I chose not to be thrown out of my house. I can’t survive by myself.”

Kids who rejected their training rejected their families.

”No one can survive by themselves. I know that much. What point is there in surviving if there's no one to survive for?”

Pearl knew who she wanted to survive for. Mostly, it was herself, but was there anything wrong with that instinct?

”I’m glad I’ve got you.”

She felt her lips curl up just a smidge. ”I’m glad I’ve got you too.”

”Get some sleep.”

Pearl felt on the verge of collapse, and muttered a quick ”Okay,” before shifting to lie her head against her satchel.

The next day, they were practically up to their necks in water. The Gamemakers were guiding them to their scheduled feast; a gathering of all remaining tributes. A second bloodbath.

This could very well be the day she died. Or the day we both die.

Nine tributes left.

She focused on Patricia’s breathing.

template by chelsey

[shrimp]

G A L A X Y

We carry Blaire up the stone stairs as fast as our legs will allow us, the monster's bellows sending every one of my nerves into overdrive. But he's fading, he's gone he's so gone gone gone and here I am on Day what, four? Four tries, four failures. This game sucks. I've never understood why it was called a game in the first place; games are fun. This is the exact opposite.

Tau and I walk until we can walk no more, placing Blaire gently on the ground. I'm exhausted, I just want this nightmare to end. It seems that I've just gone from one dream to another throughout my entire life: stars to coma, coma to the games. But I'm ready to wake up now. Throw a bucket of water on me, do something - this is too horrifying to be real.

Blaire holds my hand, says thank you. And there's not much I can say but "I'm sorry." Because I am, and I couldn't protect him as I ran towards Patricia. Couldn't protect him as he wrangled out of Tau's grasp and yelled "Stop", could protect him as One sliced him in the back, and I can't protect him now, when whatever comes after this is dragging him away from this darkness far stronger than I can pull him back. Tau wouldn't help, I just know it.

When his cannon fires I let go of his hand, not realize I've been stroking his thumb with my own until I place both of his hands across his chest and make sure that his boomerang's secure in his grasp. I touch Val's necklace and Kendrick's anchor before I stand back up, and glance over at my district partner.

I don't know what's wrong with him, but he's just... different. The way he walks as if he doesn't have a knee injury, the sneering that I heard while fighting One and Seven. The way he looks at me now. It's creepy. It's not Tau. I don't like it. Blaire was terrified of him when i handed him off and look where that got him - a blade to the back. So I do the only thing that seems right:

I take out that chain of handcuffs, and strap him to a stray stalagmite as I tend to him, angrily stitching up his wound and slapping on the plants he found days ago. "So you can't go anywhere."


"Like you did last night, Galaxy?"


What? He was asleep, I was sure of it. I only went for a moment anyway and look where that got me - I've gotten to known a girl who had better be dead the next time I see her (even though in those last moments I saw more of myself in her than I had ever noticed in our equal parts red hair and pale skin; pure fear, pure desperation. We're all the same in this arena) and a way out. Maybe. Is it even worth it to try to find it? It's not like finding the stars would have ever helped me win the games. Here, stars are worthless, and the only things that illuminate our night are the ghastly green glow of the anthem and the sickening glint from other tributes.

"What's your point, Tau?" I retort, pulling on the thread slightly harder than usual.

"You disappear into the darkness just as well as the best of us, darling"

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I do what I can to make sure he lives each day. I do what I have to because if I don't they'll kill me first. They'll kill Tau first. There's a reason that 6 hasn't had a victor in decades: we're fucking useless. I don't go into the darkness like some slippery snake, Tauankia Ojai. I walk in with my head held high.

"You're not you. Not anymore." Something, or someone, has taken the Tauankia I've known since we met on the train, frail and confused and desperate, and twisted him into this... This thing filled with stupid metaphors and judgmental looks. I've got enough of that from my English classes, thank you very much. I don't need that here.

"I've always been here, Galaxy. Some of us are just more comfortable in the dark." There's shivers up my spine. Yep, not Tauankia not him not him this is insane. Who the fuck is this guy? Val didn't know him, Kendrick didn't know him. No, the pleasure of knowing him has been given to me and Blaire. Joy. I don't know enough about this, I didn't pay enough attention in class during this section, I never scored well on the tests. Now here we are.

"Who are you? You're not Tauankia."

Tau - notTau - leans forwards, inching his face closer and closer to mine and if we were in any other situation I would fucking head for the hills but I can't. He's Tau. Inside there's Tau. Somewhere.

"I'm everything he couldn't be,"

I've just got to find him.

"And everything he is."

I punch him in the nose. He doesn't even flinch when I pull my hand back, the black blood staining my hand (he licks it up when it reaches his lip oh fucking gross), and the anthem suddenly plays, the clearly prerecorded cacophony blasting through my ears at the worst possible time, stabbing at my eyes with the severe shock of light.

The boy from two - only the blond from One is left, strange how she survived amid all the other Careers. Kendrick and Val should have been able to take her on. Would have been able to take her on. But they're dead.

Blaire. I'm sorry.
Both Sevens. I'm not sorry.

When the anthem ends, all is plunged back into hell.

"You better rest up, Galaxy. there's a long night ahead of us."

"Then you'd better shut up," I snap back at him, the candlelight barely illuminating my face.

"I've been shut up a long time now... i'm not sure you can get me to go back now."

That's it. I grab the rope from my bag, the rope that saved Kendrick, even just for a little while. I head over to Tau, or what remains of him.

"Newsflash, I don't care."

I wrap the rope around his mouth, and I swear that he fucking chomped on it like it was some freaking chicken drumstick. I can't deal with this, this is too much - I've already lost Val, and Kendrick, and even Blaire's no longer here. It seems that along the way Tau died and I didn't even notice.

We stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, and when I finally nod off to sleep it's filled with black, black black-covered bodies that grab at my arms and drag me down into the depths of a sea of tar, hearts exploding into ink; heads cracking open like eggshells, their contents dripping over my body; corpses falling facefirst into the river with a spash; needles poking at my back. I feel like I'm being watched.

I wake up, the feeling doesn't end and for a moment I believe I'm still in the nightmare, splashing around as I stumble to my feet. But the water hasn't risen up to my chin - no, it's flooding the cavern, and I sprint across to the other side of the tunnel because Tau is there, trapped to the floor and I smash the handcuffs linking him to the ground with my sword and I untie the rope.

And all he does is say "Time to go, dearie," and kick the fucking candle over.

"YOU FUCKING DICK," I scream. "YOU LITERAL PENIS." That was our only lightsource apart from the tar filled stick, and now it's gone gone gone and if I want to fucking see I'll have to use a block of wood to fight and he just wants to watch the world burn, and as much as I love Tauankia I hate this guy. I march off, pushing myself along with the current (it'll surely take us where we need to be; the gamemakers are smart enough for one thing, at least).

"Try not to drown," I spit back at him, taking a deep breath and letting the tides take me to our battleground.

Nine bags. Nine tributes. And a dangerous ledge that turns into a waterfall as we drop in on scene. Who's even left in this godforsaken place?

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter one bit.

[Deleted]

[presto][/presto]

I promise with all my heart, swearing it on Ripred's name and all, that at one point I loved Stella Calloway. That at one point in these last few lifetimes, I loved her like I loved Jael and my mother and everything I hold dear in this world - I swear I loved her like I thought I always could. And I guess that if that type of love was eternal, I wouldn't regret a thing; I wouldn't have a thing to regret at all. Our hands would be attached like Jael and I's used to be when we were children (when I believed I could fix this all with a few pretty words, when I was dumb) and Cha would still be besides us in something more than a slip of paper I took from her bag. (I stole Cha's map, I stole from Cha, I stole, that's wrong, right, with all these wrong things I could be Stella by now) Us three would still be together,

and I wouldn't be so damn scared.

It's cold without her here, Cha, with just me and Stella it's so cold. It wasn't hard to leave her though, to just take off with Stella like I could handle it, (so dumb, you're so dumb Fionn) I wish I hadn't. Never realized it though, Cha, I don't think she knew we ever left - I barely knew that I left, I barely wanted to. Stella grabbed my wrist, and all three of us left it at that: our trust in each other dying with that girl on day four. Still, I have no idea what happened, or if it was even Stella who struck her down (I didn't want to know anymore, I just wanted her to stop, that girl in the bloodbath, district ten guy, leviathan, rat girl, one for each day and I don't want to know about it anymore.)

(Why is it my burden?)

---

Stella and I, we ran until the smell of the rats and Cha and death and sins couldn't follow, we ran until we couldn't even follow, and I prayed for a second I was just going by motions and both she and Cha were long gone and finally I would be alone. (Alone, I thought the word would scare me back when it wasn't the safest option.) If I could only be alone, I didn't want her on my shoulders anymore, I didn't want to be the second half of this ying-yang, and I didn't want to be alive with her. And I swear, I loved her once upon a time.

Between our hands felt air for a solid second, and I felt like I was falling - Cha had the only light you see, all we had keeping us two together was her hand around my wrist. (If only.) I was okay with it, as I breathed air like a sword, trying to puncture my lung in a single intake. (If only, if only I could.)

My life these past few days have been easy, so I shouldn't feel so tore. Why do I feel so sore? I've seen so much in only four days that I thought I could stop; I've seen so much in these past few days and I've just been so damn useless. I protected Stella and Cha and cared for Barnabas and kept Asa and Pearl in my heart and never let Leon slip from my thoughts, and those are my sins. Stella, Cha, Barnabas, Asa, Pearl, Leon, those are my sins, and I don't want to know about them anymore. I don't want to know anymore, I just want to repent, but I can't.

Stella wraps something around my arm, after the seconds of cool lining the creases on my wrist, and I cringe. I writhe, as she slides the noose of my soul around my blood-lines, and for a second I feel like a rabid mutt, thrasing against it. I hate her, Stella. I swear in my bones I loved her once, but there's a reason our hearts are held inside rib cages, it's because our hearts are animals. I smash my fist against her face or nose or fucking something, and as the noose unravels from around my wrist I run off again with dust sinking to the bottom of my lungs.

My legs kick so hard against the ground I almost lose the map I stole from Cha to lead me back to her heart, to lead me back to when I was foolish enough to believed that a good-heart was a substitute for methamphetamine. In only a few hours, I'm alone, truly alone, I pray. I pray that Stella failed to follow me and the noose of my soul is firmly wrapped around her own feet, so that I may live in peace. For once, just peace.

(If only.)

It's not hard, that anthem at first. It was Asa, and all I knew about him is how odd it was to throw food at him once in my life, all I knew was that he looked better with peas smashed into his hair and that now he was dead. All I knew about him was that I cared about him, and it stung the bottom of my heart as it flashed to Sycamore. The Sycamore boy, I never saw him. I don't remember him, ever. I don't recall him from the training center or anything, and I choked a little. I sat down. An entire body that I knew of the entire time, that everybody knew, yet I never even got to tell him my name.

For a second, I thought I saw Barnabas's face, for a second time in this goddamn fuckfeast, and for a second I believed I was completely insane. Until realization met my eyes, and I had nothing. In this entire hell pit, we're only on circle five and all I have left is Satan's shell and Cha. Barnabas's face looked so different than the last time I saw him, crawling on the ground as if he hadn't lived in eighteen years (I should've killed him then, I should've killed him and made sure he never had to, to live another day where he didn't belong.)

(He didn't belong, and neither did I.)

I knew the second I saw him two days ago it was a mistake, that meeting him, getting him close to Stella was a death sentence. I put a cut time on his lifespan and maybe, just maybe he could've crawled away day eight. That's my sin, I killed Barnabas, I saved Stella, I left Cha, I never ever gave Leon my name, all my sins. Well Ripred let me just tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knives, for I do not belong here. I don't deserve another second.

For a second, I believed being alone didn't scare me, until realization met my eyes in the form of my own spear.

---

Twitch.

---

I'm not sure what's real, between faith and materialization, I'm not sure where the lines are between Cha and my present. All I remember is blood, the blood dried between my fingernails and past my spear, dried under my right eye socket down to my chin as if I cried the stuff.

(finn enters feast, by himself)
(finn stabs his own eye out for 10 damage)
(i'll finish this soon)

[Cait]

Finn and I had left in the early hours of daybreak – an indistinguishable time of day that existed in a limbo between night and day. We hadn’t stopped walking since the anthem lights had ceased and water had lapped at our ankles and Cha’s soft murmurs were the only sounds to carry us away from the place we had almost died in.

Behind me are laboured breaths and a shallow heartbeat that cannot match the pace of Kirk’s racing throb beneath my torn, blood-stained shirt. The steps are soft, stealthy, but I don’t fear them any more than the darkness which simply seems like an old, irritating friend that refuses to leave me alone.

The night air didn’t hinder me in the same way it appeared to slow Finn. But I didn’t dare stop. I hadn’t wanted to listen to the voices in my head, but these ones are new. These ones don’t tell me to kill. These ones want to help me, and I’m more than happy to listen to their whispers of direction which guide us through the darkness.

In my eyes, it was a relief to be moving once more.

-------

I’d felt the pain of Finn’s sobs only moments before hearing the teardrops splash to the ground we sat upon. The pain, coursing through my veins, as if it was I who had lost the friend.

But it wasn’t me who had to face the faces in the sky and accept the fact that someone I knew wasn’t here anymore. All I had to look for was a girl I barely knew, a girl I didn’t try hard enough to save. And when her face vanished from the sky to be replaced by Barnabas’, I sat and waited for Finn’s sobs to die down before attempting to let some sense of tranquillity settle over me.

It is a long time before his cries end.

--------

In the dark, it’s quite simple to forget the rest of the world. Encompassed in your own secluded patch of existence, there is nothing but dancing shadows to guide you as time passes by. I’d tried connecting imaginary stars and creating beautiful images from them like Cha had shown me only last night. There was a certain finesse to her finger motions that enthralled me, and I envied the totality and wholehearted belief she was able to put into something so much bigger than we would ever be. But each time I successfully joined one line to another, an outburst from Finn broke the silence and my concentration faltered once more, leaving me with nothing but outlines of nightmares to guide me through the night.

Seventeen seconds pass between each of his irregular exhales, and every seventeen seconds, I jump in fear before the danger of death passes and we are both able to breathe easily once again.

I needed him.

Without him, I was bad. We’d seen that too often already.

There are voices, and they tell me to run, but I can’t without Finn’s hand slipped into my own.

(Run.)

I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do so. Strong enough to make it on my own.

‘Cha?’

No answer.

‘Finn?

No answer.

(They’re asleep.)

Crouched beside Finn, it is here that I wait, watching his chest rise and fall with a monotonous heartbeat that jumps a little each time the demons of his dreams cut a little too close to reality. How long had it been since we’d first met, in exactly the same situation? Him, lain beneath a low-lying shrub, and I, watching on protectively. Only this time, I am not laying my head down next to his. I am not tired; I am wired and buzzing, and it almost feels like my own heartbeat is awakening with the tides of change, but perhaps that is just the essence of Belle.

I try again.

‘Finn?’

I shake him gently and he is sitting up in an instant. I try to ignore the terror that flashes in his eyes, for it is only there a single second.

But it was still there.

Instead, I smile at Finn and squeeze his hand and kiss his cuts like he did mine only four days ago.

‘What are you doing?’

‘We can leave, right now.’

His hesitation hurts.

‘It's okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.’

I won't hurt you.

I can’t let anything happen to you.

‘We’re going to be alright.’

I don’t know if I say the words for his sake or mine. Either way, they help a little.

Once again, it is more than I deserve.

-------

We are no children of our parents, no siblings of our brothers and sisters. No innocents.

We are children of the dark.

We walk on tightropes laced with poison that make us slip as we tread along suspended bridges where one wrong move could mean the difference between life and death. It is a thin line to walk upon; it is much safer in my hands.

My hands.

They hold rope.

Hands, filled with fraying pieces of twine.

Hands, that should have been in another’s.

Beside me, Finn’s steps slow, and through the dark I can just make out his faint outline. Fashioning one end of the rope into a loop and securing it around my own wrist, I make another shape of similar orientation, before starting towards the only person I had left to care about.

We could hold hands, and that way, I wouldn’t need to welcome Belle back into my mind and she wouldn’t tell me to kill again, again, again. That wasn’t me.

We could hold hands, and Finn could stop me from being bad.

I had to be good again.

I had to be.

We had to be okay.

But if we were okay, why can I taste blood?

-------

When he ran, I did not try to stop him.

A part of me had believed that despite the accusatory glances and guilty inflictions, Finn didn't hate me. I'd believed he would stay forever, because when he had slipped Cha's map into his own bag and fled with his hand intertwined in mine, I had allowed myself to believe that he was just as corrupted as I. And if that was the case, he would stay.

That, however, was not the case.

I'd come to love Fionnbharr Stoddard, and if love wasn't enough to keep him with me for at least another night, then I was more naive than I'd thought.

I'm left with rope burn.

Alone.

I'm alone.

I'm so sick of being alone.

-------

Come back.

'Stay with me.'

she enters dat feast
it's fucking too early for this shit i'm soryr lemme edit this later

[wimdy]

[presto][/presto]

N O T C H I M I N E WIP but yeh working on this Blaire died with a story to sink him into sleep, a comfort to take away his pain and send him across to the other side. Galaxy had done all she could to defend him, but he was gone when we fought him for the first time. Once the fear seeps inside, it never leaves you. The moment you allow it to attach itself to your ambitions, to your dreams, it rots away at your every hope and aspiration and turns everything that was once brave and true and good of you into waste. Everyone lets it latch on someday. The fear is still tangible in the air even after the two girls disappear from sight and the beast ducks back into its cave. My shoulders slump under the weight of the exhaustion curling around my bones, every attack against my body throbbing with a renewed thirst, drinking what energy I have left in me with every waning second. Seeing Blaire and Barnabus succumb to such all-encompassing fear as they did just moments before their plays came to end. THIS IS THE PART WITH THE WORDS We sit there all night, silent as the tombs of our forbearers, waiting for our bodies to grow tired enough to pass from wakefulness to sleep, but the time never comes for rest. No, the night bleeds into day without a single change to mark the sky that must lie in the distance, but the only difference that marks our time to leave is the sudden trickle of water against our skin. I blink slowly, eyes peeling away from Galaxy to look at the dimly lit ground, watching as liquid begins to gather upon the ground. It inches a little high and I raise my chained wrist in reaction, shaking the chain that binds me to the stalagmite. “Time to go, dearie," I advise, looking back up at her with a smirk. She doesn't speak as she reaches out to unbind me, standing in the process. I gather up what few items I have, taking my sword in hand and weaving taking the chain from around my neck to drop into my bag. I can hardly see with the candle so far away, watching with squinted eyes as Galaxy bends to pick it up. Without a word, I kick out my bad leg, striking the little light-source and sending it flickering into the water, the fire going out with a hiss. “You fucking dick! You literal penis!” she shouts, the water splashing as she stalks away from me. A grin flits across my lips as I go to follow, enjoying the cool rush of water against my ankles. I hear her call above the water one more time, an “I hope you drown!” It’s not time for anything that drastic, though. Not yet, not when there are so many more games to play. We don’t speak as we move forward from that, the water growing deeper the farther we go, following the current to find the location where the feast will take place.

[Cato]

I'm not afraid of a good fight, ad if that's what the Capitol wants, I'll give it to them especially if the tributes try to attack me or Stella. I'll kill them, but I don't want to. The fire surrounding the area is enough to show the faces of those alive. I smile slightly when I see Esme standing in the distance, but her leg is gone, and I know she's as good as dead. Stella is here too, and she's my priority. I made a promise, and I want to keep it. I move around holding onto my sword looking at the fire placed in front of me, and the bags hanging in the distance. I hate this place, and I hate the Capitol, and now I want to show them I am not a piece in their game. I am my own person, and I'm going to prove it right now.

-Crusader Rhodes attacks Tauankia Ojai-

v7vwdTrUsword
1036 -- Severed Right Hand at Wrist -- 9.0 damagesword

[Knuckles]

[googlefont="Satisfy:400;"]

Esme Truus

When the days are cold
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold
When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood's run stale

Watching from the outside she moved ignoring the pain lurking deep inside her body, but the movements wasn't easy as she floated through the water. A puppet took control of her body moving the strings around fighting against her own will. The Capitol owns her, and they weren't about to let her forget it. Balancing on her one leg, she stared at the fire as it danced before her eyes. A lifetime of pain roared throughout her body. Pain at her parents for holding her back when she tried to succeed. She was falling deep inside her own body mixing with the flames dancing around her wrapping around her soul pulling her further into the depths of hell. Demons danced beside her holding onto the silver blades eating away at her skin, tearing her into pieces, but Esme didn't mind. The feeling of her blood running down her body was relaxing, but it wasn't enough. She longed for the blood of the demons, and the puppet master was happy to oblige.

Esme Truus attacks Tauankia Ojai with knife
DHGoke09knife
block--0.0

template by Anzie

knife

[rook]

I stay by Pearl, the Pearl who had saved my life. There’s blood and fire within the chasm and surrounding it. We’re alone. There’s no Asa or Barnabas anymore, it’s Pearl and me. Fighting for lives we cannot save. I ready the bomb, holding it gently within my palm and I hope the reward is worth the risk. It’s simple enough. Light it, throw it, stay by Pearl and hope for the best. Three……..two………..one

And I throw.

[attacks Stella Calloway with Petrol Bomb]
No8X2k5y1-6

[ 3 - blows up on target and surrounding tributes (i.e. those who've either attacked or been attacked by the target tribute since the thrower's) - severe burn +8 for target, 1-50 fire dice for surrounding tributes]

1-6

[shrimp]

G A L A X Y

It's going to be chaos, I know it from the minute I set foot on the ground and there's lights twinkling everywhere, sacks hanging on hooks with numbers scrawled on them like a child's drawing. Maybe this isn't real, maybe it's all make-believe. But no, it's real - it's far too real because there they are and they're attacking Tau and there's Patricia yet again and she will not fucking do this. Fuck. You.

[attacks PATRICIA | SWORD]
x3RCjTI4sword
[1150 -- Shallow Cut on Left Thigh -- 3.5 damage]

sword

[Python]

P E A R L M I L L I S O N

Teamwork was key. The pair needed to fight and maneuver like they were chained together by the ankles. She was terrified that the moment she turned away to face an opponent, the redhead would be ripped from her, and she would whirl back around to find her vanished or collapsed. She couldn’t bear to face an arena like this alone, but she had faith that Patricia could trudge on without her. She had a steel mind and a gated heart, she could bounce back from a loss. She had to, because Pearl had never been destined for victory. The moment her name had been announced, her gravestone had been carved. Her coffin was decorated and prepared. The grave was probably already dug. Creatures would seek residence inside until it was her turn to be laid to rest.

She felt sick to her stomach as the tributes started to materialize like shadows. The Gamemakers were forcing them together for blood, not for the items that were in store for them. Whatever it was, Pearl wasn’t interested. She was here because it was mandatory, and mandatory meant lethal consequences to those who neglected the spirit of the Games. They wouldn’t be staying for long – just long enough to leave a mark or an impression, to show the Gamemakers that they tried.

Pearl tried to swallow her fear, but it lodged itself in her throat like a ball of cotton. Even after four days of this, she was still terrified.

The tributes were closing in fast. Blood running ice cold, she waited for the proper moment, like a coiled and frightened little snake.

template by chelsey

[attacks stella – sword]
VSndSuBXsword
Shallow Cut on Back -- 4.0 damagesword