h [ o m ] e l l :: [Beretta + Aibell // Day One]

[L△LIA]

h o m e
is wherever i'm with
y o u

The sky falls for you, cutting out the heart of God and raining her crystalline blood down upon you. Blessings of holy water kiss your face like a reminder of rooftops gone by, sleet skimming red from your skin and hair, but not from your mouth. Your confessional lips cannot be washed clean, cannot be redeemed — not while you wear this grin. Queen of the Damned, you have found your throne and are in love with your new kingdom. This hell is your home.

This is true happiness. You find yourself blushing, absently running fingertips across your collarbone, biting your lip as you fondly remember today’s bloodlust. Despite being an old hand at this game, you have always kept the horror of your soul concealed behind locked doors, but these thoughts of having the glory of your madness broadcast to the world as entertainment… as required viewing… as something to fear, to aspire to, to hide under the covers from, to check under the bed for, to study, to cheer to victory, to call by name until infamy becomes infinity… You are a giggling schoolgirl, infatuated.

As the skies breathe in daylight and exhale the first mist of evening, the second seduction begins. Curves slip across the last rays of sunset and into the fluttering eyes of stars awakening to a new night, a provocative whisper haunting the air with a face you recognize, but have never met. Still, your dark heart knows her. You are connected by a history that touched you, that touched her, with exactly the same hands. Identical sets of fingerprints brand you both. Eager to meet this fellow devil who once upon a time would have gladly wrapped herself around you, she throws her head back in a wild laugh and unfurls with the momentum into the mist beyond your reach. Only the air itself is allowed to entwine bodies with her now.

Blowing coyly in your ear, the breeze teases you, bragging shamelessly. She is mine. The boasting comes too soon because while you may not be what this ghost wants, a piece of her desire is still built into you, moonlight shining off your damp skin as if the pale reflections scattered across you are those fingerprints, permanently tattooed. You have grown with these memories, not out of them, and when she sees you, she sees them, wants them. For always. No mist can conceal this much desire.

When you reach out once more, she is so transfixed by the history of your skin that she can’t help leaning in. You count down the seconds of space between you, your twined curiosity, and this strange tangling of worlds. What’s yours is hers and what’s hers is yours and the collision of contact breaks a barrier that was never meant to be crossed over. Silver ricochets off the moonlight that dapples you and back into her greed, blowing her head apart all over again. What was red mist is now a pale doppelgänger of a death looping into itself on repeat — living and dying and being reborn simply to be killed all over again — as the mist tries to piece her back together.

The air swirls desperately. For a moment her face hangs in the haze like a half moon —

Dissolves. Lusts for the curve of her waist —

Dissolves. Tries to take her hand but is seized with confusion as thumb and forefinger are suddenly steel instead of skin and she is a gun, is a flare, is an explosive —

Dissolves. One weapon turns into another and another and the sky bursts with deadly fireworks. Swords and harpoons start a riot, the air aflutter with the wings of butterfly knives, of whirling axes, of split skulls. Bayonets spear the ground all around before dissipating into smoke, as if you are standing on a pyre, watching the world burn. The fog flickers into a monster so mighty that even you flinch as a mouth made of pure night opens to swallow you whole, to bellow for its beloved, to bare teeth made of bladed muskets that have not yet given up the mist’s search for GUNN—

Dissolves. The face of that monster shivers into tandem with the first and the greedy ghost that found you refuses to relinquish her hold, strong-arming the atmosphere into keeping them both, into keeping them together, into obeying her undying desires —

Dissolves. Meeting your eyes, the both of them flare and scatter like ash from the pyre. You blink at the sudden surrender, confused until you blink again and find yourself looking into a pair of eyes that match your own. One feline gaze stares into another and you are not afraid of this familiar predator they have summoned —

Dissolves. Your own longing for the girls being reborn in the air around you is undeniable, curves and claws solidifying as the moonlight reflects part of your soul into their existence. So long as you live, they cannot die. The body of a Lyon with the head of a one-eyed woman, the sphinx that takes shape does not shy from you. She has always belonged at your side.

You smirk at the air, at the jealous sky. You have only one thing to say to the mist, to this arena, to everyone you encounter: “Mine."

[dowsing rod]

H7d8IiyB1-3



[delivery word]

1-4



[dowsing rod success]

1-16

1-3�1-4�1-16

[ᕙʕ•ᴥ•ʔᕗ]

I couldn’t remember a day in my childhood when I wasn’t shielded by my father or brother from the world around me. “No, Chloë,” they would say as they blocked my path to the outside world, reaching for my hand so they could be by my side when shoes rested on the pavement outside of our house. It had become my reality, my world, where my father and brother would always be by my side.

But my world changed as I grew up and I started to take steps by myself, like an infant learning how to walk so she could cross the bridge and become a toddler. I never ventured far; I never had a reason to go anywhere except home, school, home. I did start going out more, learning to conquer my anxiety by taking up wood carving, but nothing I did at home could have prepared me for the sinking feeling in my stomach that hadn’t left since I stepped out of my glass capsule. In the time of fighting, I had ignored that feeling, focused instead on letting my body take over what my mind could not do. After the fighting ended, though, I was left with my mind.

In the moment, I hadn’t realized how much moving I had done, but once the fight was over and I was running after Beretta, I could already feel the soreness in several areas of my body, knowing that I was not built to last a long time in the arena. At some point I had lost her, but soon I was joined by another companion, a woman in the form of mist. Before I could question her, she gave me a smile and then spun into a small but rather chubby black cat. My mind instantly went to a time before when black and white once mixed and a small whisper left my lips as I named it. I watched as it walked between my legs before curling at my feet. Kneeling down, I tried to pet the cat only to find it disappear into the mist as my fingers reached for it.

Jax reappeared at a distance, licking his paws before padding toward me and nudging at my leg as if he was telling me to move, keep walking. My legs followed his command and I kept walking until I found Beretta sitting there in a patch of unknown. Her cruel smile, her haunting eyes, her elegant fingers welcomed me to the space as I stood there staring at the wonderful mysterious girl. Alarms rang in my mind, chimes filled my ears. And yet, she did not push me away. Even though she had recruited Harbinger, she allowed me to tag along.

Was it relief I felt? It was the closest I had to that feeling since I stepped into my glass enclosure, but I knew I would never be at rest until my eyes closed for the final time. Yet she was familiar, more familiar than the people I had attacked back on that wooden stage. Jax, still by my side, rubbed his cheek against my leg before padding off. He is home to me. He will be my protector. What white could not do black would have to stand in. The pangs of home came back and I curled up in front of Beretta as I prayed, prayed and hoped, that she didn’t take me out of the equation so soon. And yet what better way to rid of the pain than to take it all away?

[Chloë crashes Beretta's little party]
[Chloë uses dowsing rod]
djs97IKo1-3
{failure}

1-3

[анзие (Anz)]

Speckles of red decorate his hands, marks of blood spilled not too long ago. The ground he’d left behind is red, but only one man doesn’t get out in time – the cannon fired for Draco of District 7 and his cool stare. Kitty still sees him in the afterimage of stage lights with a red halo dancing around his skin, his face so close to Kitty’s own for the briefest moment that the boy had stumbled and caught himself on the ground.

He can’t rub the image away, so Kitty scrubs his hands against his kilt until they sting pink instead. When he holds the appendages up to his eyes, they tremble with the uncertainty of a child, bathed by the muted evening sky. Swirling mist wraps its hands around his own, like dousing him in ice; Kitty looks up, lips parted in silent awe as the vague form of a smiling woman hovers in front of him for the briefest moment.

She lets him go and holds a trailing finger to her lips.

Ma…ma?

The wind blows, and she swirls briefly out of sight. With a small cry, Kitty reaches out; his fingers close around an empty palm, and he’s left standing like a fool, grasping onto nothing in the light of a setting sun. As quickly as she came, the woman is gone – a spirit to drag his.

A body runs against his calf, and Kitty looks down. The wildcat blinks back, its pale color fading in and out with the rays of sun. A tiny, ethereal tongue runs over its muzzle, and it rises on its hind legs, meeting him at the level of his own eyes. Kitty stares back, silenced by its presence; it doesn’t speak, silenced by something else entirely.

The snow cat slowly bares its neck to him.

Kitty reaches out to touch its form. His hand only brushes its cold; it drops back onto four legs and shakes out its fur, strings of mist catching light as they take flight before fading away.

“We should find them,” Kitty whispers. The snow cat closes its eyes in what could be a smile.

The curtains of day have almost fallen when Kitty finds Beretta and Chloë, legs folded beneath them as they considered the world around them. No words are exchanged, none needed, perhaps; Kitty closes the distance between them, the careful bridge from one girl to the other. His head settles on Beretta’s lap, one hand reaching to grasp at Chloë’s as they wait for their last of their litter to find his way home.

kitty crashes beretta's party too
kitty curls up on beretta and chloe
meow meow

dowsing rod
R63xpuv91-3
success!
1-16

delivery word
1-4
failure

1-3�1-4�1-4

[Noah Vau - D2 (Cato)]

My mind races with endless possibilities. I ran from the bloodbath before anyone else in my alliance. Part of me wonders where they could be, but it doesn't matter. Ditching them for myself would be the best because I don't want to kill them. I don't want them to die in front of me because I would be responsible for their deaths, and honestly the feeling is impossible to live with. But I've bonded with them. I have to find them before other tributes find me.

One cannon sounded, and then another. Two tributes have died. I don't know who they were, but I'm praying with everything inside of me that they didn't belong to Annora. I swore I'd get her home. I promised myself. Yet I promised Elidor I would return. I never said if I would be alive or dead, but this is one promise I can keep. Because no matter what happens, I will be returning home. It's just a matter of how.

Finally I stumble across my allies. Seeing that the three of them are alive makes me happy, but at the same time it makes me sad knowing that not all of us can live. Why did I try to make friends here? It's not worth it. It's not worth the pain it's going to put me through as cannon after cannon sounds during the games. Sighing to myself, I lower myself onto the ground as a parachute lands only feet in front of me. It seems that Kirito and Katelyn are working their powers. Hopefully they sent Annora something too.