grief & tears to smother [West Beach Feast]

[Muffinface]

"HEY."

His voice echoes across the waters, louder than the waves. Boots scramble away from Saxton Hale's corpse, his darkened eyes glowering down at the girl on battered hand and knees. "Jequerity." he grumbles, flipping his glaive around. The smooth butt of the blade sinks into her shoulders, easing her into the sand none too carefully. Septys' eyes flicker yet again, and he grits his teeth.

He tastes her blood, still, coagulating between his teeth.

Are they proud, in the capitol?

His shoulders tremble, the stick pushing down ever harder. "You came with Saxton, didn't you?" he snarls, crouching, fingers digging against the back of her skull, nails running through crimson locks of hair. Her blood pours from her body, gushing gentle streams across ivory flesh.

"She's gone now, but you're still here."

The beach is otherwise silent, and he sits once again, knees collapsing onto the ground. Yellow eyes flash, flicker back to brown, and he cringes.

"I can help you, but you have to help me- you have two choices."

His fingers trace her jawline ever so gently, gazing down at her own face. "You're either with us, or you're against us." His hand drifts down, and he moves, fingers wrapping around her chin. "If you're against us, I can end it here for you- Quick. I know how to kill- I mean I got a ten, for fuck's sake. But... If you come with us, I can save your life, right now. I can keep you alive, and you can fight with us until the very end."

Trembling, he lowers, forcing the glaive against her shoulders. "Make your choice."

The lake sort of knows me
Was it you who promised time?
Take me to a land so green, so she'll stay a while. 
Please take me there, I'm ready.
The ship sways, but the heart is steady.

I've got time.

[arx!!]

Jequirity Eckhart

♫

so if you’re gonna hurt me

The sharp sting of metal pushes me down, my face slamming against the cool black stones beneath me. No. The blood in my eyes and dribbling across my face makes my skin slippery against the stones, my body moving as someone pins me to the ground. Please. I try to turn myself over, to face whoever has decided to fuck with me--- I cough and spit blood from my lips, the sticky liquid falling in front of me shimmering just as much as the smooths stones.

"You came with Saxton, didn't you?"

I can't breathe. Where... where is Saxton? I try to move again, a struggle all in vain really. My eyes swivel in my skull, frantic to find her. Did she... she didn't--- leave me? She left me here to---to die? No. She wouldn't. She's here somewhere. Hiding. Waiting. Any second now she would bound forward and knock my attacker on his ass and save me. She would always save me. She's coming... I know it, I---

I grimace as blades run against my skull. It's already so fragile, easy enough to crush. Please, Saxton. Hurry it up. Please. Where are you? My lips move to form words but blood rolls off my tongue instead.

(Where is my queen? My savior?)

"She's gone now, but you're still here."

I gasp for air as the butt end of the weapon presses deeper, deeper into my back. Stop, please. I tell my head to shake---No, no she isn't gone. She's here, hiding. She'll kill you.---but it falls lifeless and limp against the rocks. A growl from above me strikes fear into an already fearful heart. I try to look up at him (for sure a him now I have decided) but the blood in my eyes blurs my vision. And with only one arm, I can't swipe it away.

I hear his knees collide with the ground next to me. I gasp for air as soon as my lungs let me.

"I can help you, but you have to help me- you have two choices."

His eyes glow yellow. His teeth are sharpened to points, canines filling his entire mouth. Shiny white teeth glisten with blood and his fingers---no, no claws, his fucking claws. I flinch away from him, rolling away from him and swiping the blood from my eyes.

"You're either with us, or you're against us," he growls, voice deep and wolf-like. He grabs at my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes. I'm going to die. And this wolfboy is gonna do it. I don't even bother trying to shake free again. He's in total control. Where is Saxton? Is she really... gone? Like he says?

No. He's lying.

"If you're against us, I can end it here for you- Quick. I know how to kill- I mean I got a ten, for fuck's sake. But... If you come with us, I can save your life, right now. I can keep you alive, and you can fight with us until the very end."

I should spit in his face, right? That's what you did when someone held your life in their forceful, cruel hands, yeah? But the moment he jams the end of his glaive into my collarbone is the moment I become that fearful little girl from 5 days ago. Don't kill me. His eyes pierce into me, striking fear into my heart where I thought I had none left.

I try to think of something clever to say. I've watched tributes die over an over again since the day I was born. I've memorized the last utterances of every District 6 tribute since my birth. I know what last words taste like, I've plotted them out since the moment I learned to fear words and speaking. I sift through my memories, trying to pull from some of the ones that come to mind.

I think of Yaa Valaro: ("You’re going to hate me either way, and I’m way past the point where I give a shit about what anyone thinks. Hell, I’m dying! So fuck you.") Fitting. Poetic, really to go out fighting with words like that rolling off my lips. I could use those, they fit the scene about as perfectly as they did the 64th finale.

I could use Wyatt's last words---("I’m begging you for only a second more— I just need another minute here.")---and hope he leaves me alone to bleed to death.

I could even play my last sass card and count on Saxton interrupting to spear him in the face. Ethan Taurus's words seem like they would fit the occasion well enough, even if they wouldn't be completely true or all that threatening coming from my lips. ("Saionara, bitch. Maybe I'll eat your body later. So, just know you'll go on to help someone out, y'hear?") Still, they had enough flare for my taste.

"Okay," I manage. "I'll fight."

Apparently my mind has other plans.

Living.

"Just tell me where Saxton went first," I mutter, my breathing growing heavier with the effort. "She p-promised she wouldn't leave me. She's prob---" I cough up blood, turning to my side to clear my airways. "Probably around here somewhere. Just help me look." I press the back of my head into the rocks, the cool stones soothing me even as my blood begins to heat them.

Here I go again--- living.

why don’t you hurt me a little bit more?

[oh look a werewolf boy]

[ali]

Nov 7, 2015 15:42:22 GMT -5 ali said:

.:: Daria Staite flee assisted #2 ::.

Daria Staite {district four tribute}

.:: Felt it in my fist, in my feet,  in the hollows of my eyelids Shaking through my skull, through my spine and down through my ribs ::.

Daria rolls away with the help of Harbringer soz another filler Daria Flees with the help of Harbringer

[/quote]

[Muffinface]

The lit candle glimmers and shines, flickering against the gentle breeze. The wind sweeps sea spray from the calm waves a pointed headstone punctuation mark to a life quickly fading. Would it become a period, or would it have an addition- a semicolon to prolong pain? He could end it, put her out of her misery and add another cannon to the two about to rend the very air-

Or he could honor her choice, and take her with him. Blood oozes from her stump leg, painting shells and sand crimson. She struggles to form words, is already so close to the brink he nearly doubts anything he does could help her if she does not want the help in the first place.

Her words pull at his heartstrings and a voice murmurs in the back of his mind, a kid brother, recognizable. You are not Someith Kearns, you are not Ethan Taurus.

His head shakes, and his mind clears for a moment. No longer the bloodthirsty beast, his gaze lifts to the setting moon in the west, and to the rising orange light in the east. The sticky liquid coats five-day stubble, and his hand rises to wipe away the viscera from his lips.

Septys removes the butt of his glaive, and gently eases the girl onto her back, saying nothing about the other lives abandoned behind. What was to become a vigil for the lost souls suddenly became a life or death situation, and the career's deft fingers move without hesitation. "Oh damn, you look terrible." he moans, the girls' form even more battered, bruised, and cut than he thought.

Two liters. A training center instructor preached it like they did back in one, and he recalls an exercise with red-colored water and how fast it spread from a single point. It's impressive how similar one and two thirds and two seems to be once its painted across a canvas of gore.

Seven fingers twitch and maneuver, first elevating her leg into his lap, then applying the black, bloodstained scarf around his neck as a tourniquet. He counts to himself, gently winding and commanding the flesh to stop the bleeding. He ties it off, and glances back at the girl, a low sigh resonating across his chest. "Saxton is there." he murmurs, gesturing to her crumpled body, a cautionary tale against the beat of the ocean tides.

Without another word he rises, and moves to the table And to give the girl a chance to grieve and mourn the loss of her companion; Septys never got a chance to see what exactly rested on the altar before, but two pointedly empty spaces now remain. It must have been food, or water, or some other high value commodity. Clawed fingers pick between the remaining things, pondering what must have been destined for himself and Ruth.

Don't look at her don't look at her don't look at her fuck don't look at her

He peruses, picking up one small bag, then replacing it nearly in the exact same spot as before. Everything looks rather useful, and once again the note burns heavy in his chest pocket. Take everything as an opportunity.

What was meant for Saxton? For Rodrick? For Jeq and Ruth?

His gaze shifts, dedicating plenty of time and thought to every single item on the rack, and eyeballs the long, curved weapon leaning off to the side of the curtained block. He's seen them before- maybe on propaganda films from nine or eleven, or something, but he definitely recognizes the thing for what it is. Calloused hands offer it a swing.

Where the FUCK are Neptune and Taurus?

It rests smoothly in his palms, and practically sings as it glides through the air, and he knows this scythe was meant for him. "Thank you Dom, Glamour." he murmurs, lifting the new glaive to glint off what little moonlight and starlight remains. Glancing yet again through things he prized from his bag, he takes the bolt of ebony fabric, and wraps it around himself to offer some reprieve from the chilled night air, tying two ends together around his neck, the rest of it swooping down behind him like a ragged, ebony cloak.

FUCK they're gone aren't they? WHY didn't they show up where the FUCK did they go oh my god am I alone?
His dark eyes slip to the female once again, lips curving down at the edges. "We need to leave. he orders, just as the sun overtakes the horizon. Septys' eyebrows draw together, his eyes peel down in a cringe. A groan passes through clamped jaws as his hands dip down to lift the girl, cradling her against his chest, fingers trembling, eyes gathering tears at the corners.




One, two, three, four, five. Cannons rend the air in unison, ghastly noises too familiar shattering the landscape as the male departs, a ghost clinging in his arms.

The lake sort of knows me
Was it you who promised time?
Take me to a land so green, so she'll stay a while.
Please take me there, I'm ready.
The ship sways, but the heart is steady.

I've got time.





TLDR;
[Septys uses FIRST AID on Jack Eckhart]

[Septys DROPS Dowsing Rodx2]
[Septys Drops Scarf]
[Septys Drops Turnip]

[Septys picks up Scythe]
[Septys picks up 2 tinder and 2 bundle of firewood]

[Septys equips Scythe]
[Septys lights fire]
[Septys cooks Large Game Meat]
[Septys purifies 2 kettles of water]
[Septys fashions 1 bundle of cloth into a cloak tied at the neck]

[Septys contemplates the meaning of life as we know it]
[Also becomes slightly more humanoid because dawn happens]
[And finally, Reaper!Septys assists Jack Eckhart to flee with him and all his newly collected swag.]

[arx!!]

Jequirity Eckhart

♫

hold, hold on, hold onto me

"Oh damn, you look terrible."

I chuckle because I know it must be true. It turns into a cough; I spit blood onto shore. The cut on my forehead stings, the one on the back of my head even more so. I glance down at my thigh to find a hole so deep that I'm surprised it hasn't torn straight through. And the one good arm I thought I had isn't looking so good anymore. But those cuts seemed like nothing compared to only being able to wiggle 5 fingers and 5 toes.

How am I alive at all?

Every cut feels like it's gushing, every passing moment I get dizzier. I hear sirens singing their songs and stare up at the cliffs overlooking the beach in search of them. All I can see is the boy who is saving me—(Septys Lexig, District 1)—his clawed fingers wrapping a scarf around my brand new stub. Please, please don't kill me. I grimace as he ties off the knot, a reminder that right now, he is not the enemy.

I don't have enough energy to thank him. I simply blink at him, stunned once more by his grotesque appearance. What the hell happened to him? He sighs then. Deep and resounding and so full of--- I'm not sure what it is. But it sounds like the calm before the storm, the good before the bad, the beginning of the end. "Saxton is there," he mutters, the sweet caress of his bass voice doing nothing to comfort me. He gestures behind him, as if I must be blind not to see her.

I suppose I am because I don't see her anywhere. I force myself into a sitting position. The world tilts beneath me and I have to catch myself against his shoulder. Where...? I see blood, I see flames, I see my sword, the table, items, and two crumpled bod---

No.

I push myself to my feet---foot, foot, one foot, fuck! ---crumpling quickly back to the ground in agony as my stub hits the ground. I see stars for a moment at the corners of my vision but I force them away as I hop sadly across the rocks slippery with blood. I grab my sword out of instinct, dragging it along behind me as the first slumped form grows closer and closer with every uncoordinated lunge I make.

I fall to my knees before I can make it to her, pebbles crunching under my weight. I crawl to close the rest of the distance, my breathing growing more and more frantic as I slip across a pool of blood. The sword thuds in the sand as I scramble to pull her head into my lap. Blood oozes from my arm as I force my muscles to work to turn her over. I gasp; I laugh. Frustration takes over when all I can do is manage to turn her over onto her back. Hot tears stream down my face as more sobs escape.

"Shit, come on," I curse, my voice cracking as my vocal cords twist in agony. I swallow the lump in my throat and brush the hair from her face. A long, deep gash runs across her forehead. Her blood dampens her hair, my fingers. I shake my head and more uncomfortable, anxious, frustrated laughter follows.

I call out softly over my shoulder to Wereboy, as if he was paying attention to me and not the Wealth of items before him. "It's not her," I say, glancing back at the slack, bloody face of the girl in front of me. This is not Saxton Hale. She never looked this fragile, not even as she cried over Hannah's body. This was---this was a doppelgänger, of course! They brought them out during the last Quell who said they couldn't use them again? Well, I wouldn't be as easily confused as Kiena Ward. I know this isn't Saxton. It can't---she can't be---

My lip quivers as I run my fingers through her hair. Her skin grows paler and paler with every drop of blood that drains from her body. "It's not---" I choke. "She c-can't be---?" I press my ear to her chest, listening for the heartbeat I've grown so familiar to. Steady like the drum, strong as titanium—the single most reassuring sound I've heard since this whole thing started. I wait. And wait. Wait, wait, I'll wait forever to hear it again just once, once more, once--- one more beat before the song ends, please.

...

I weep into her shirt, muffling my cries in the soft cotton. I don't want Septys to hear me. In fact, I'm pretty sure I should be killing him right now. Screw his 10. Screw his blood drenched fangs. Screw him and every other bastard who did this. I try to recall it all in my mind, to find the answer to the puzzle, to find the last note in the last song of the last movement but I come up empty. My mind is blank—I don't remember who was here and who wasn't. All I can recall are axes, knives, and glaives. Blades upon blades shimmering in the low light.

My mind searches frantically for someone to blame, someone to hunt for, someone to kill, kill, kill. But every name I grasp, every face I try to make myself hate in my mind ... I only feel empty.

"We need to leave."

I lift my head to look at Saxton's resting form once more. Wereboy stands behind me, clearly impatient and indifferent to the body in front of me and the tears in my eyes. I lean forward, whispering into ears I know can't hear me.

"I can't play you a lullaby like I did for Hannah," I say, pressing my forehead into her cheek. It's already cold. I swallow the lump in my throat and smile against her cheek. I plant one gentle kiss against her bloodied skin, breathing in the taste of blood the moment I pull away.

"This is--" I whisper, my voice catching as Hannah's last words dance on my lips. "This is your perihelion, Saxton," I murmur, remembering the way Hannah's voice had sang along with my melody. "I pray you feel the warmth of hope."

Septys lifts me like I weigh nothing. As he pulls me away, I twist the ring free from her finger. It burns in my palm as Septys slings all my things onto his back with ease. I slump into him, every last bit of strength I had been saving up to drive my sword through his throat simply dissipating in the salt air.

His heart beat is steady, strong. But it's not her's. Cannons begin to sound off; I close my eyes as a helmet gets shoved onto my head.

Thanks, Wereboy.

cause i'm a little unsteady

[Flees with help of Septys]
[Also takes the Helmet]
[Permission from GM's and Grim to have Saxton's Claddagh]
[Other stuff in maintenance^^]