back to square one [wives v outlanders day 6]

[gamemaker kelsier]

a l l  i ' v e   g o t   l e f t  a r e   m y  b o n e s

Throwing the weapons didn't seem to be doing much to help. Kite knew that it was probably stupid to keep trying, he wasn't going to suddenly become less blind. The space that they were in wasn't very good for listening. He couldn't catch it properly, where the enemy was, the ground gave nothing away as well. It was too squishy.

He had to do it like he'd done it before;weapon in hand and up close and personal.

That had worked well yesterday. Unbidden, the feeling and memory of shoving someone's eyeball through their skull came again. It was a sickening feeling. He didn't really think he wanted to do it another time.

Kite wasn't going to lie and pretend that he wasn't afraid;he was very afraid. He could feel his hands shaking despite the warmth of the fire and he knew it was from fear.

He wondered what Danny would do if she were here, or brave Basil, fighting through every pain he'd been put through.

If they were here, they'd tell him to run.

His feet shifted in the mud and he almost thought that he could hear them in his ears, screaming at him. "Run Kite, get out of here!"

He couldn't.

There were things he had to do here, he couldn't leave Celia or Noelia behind. Timothy and Dane would have stayed, stood tall and fought. He had to do it for them because they were gone now.

He would probably die if he stayed and he knew it well. He didn't mind the idea of being cremated by the burning cornucopia though, it was a nice thought. He could leach onto the warmth and let it burn up his bones like the afterthought that he'd always been.

"Ok," he said quietly to himself, coming to a decision, "I can do it."

If Celia could act so tough in front of all this fear then so could he.

He rushed forward, feet catching in the mud and dirt.

[Kite attacks Atticus with second lit spear]
T4GEvGDlspear
1-50

[Shallow Cut on Left Calf -- 3.5 damage]

spear�1-50

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

"WE ARE NONE AND NONE FOR ALL. WE ARE THE

SICKNESS AND THE SYMPTOM AND THE CURE."

They all started to attack Atticus- started to bombard him with all of their weapons and tactics. They all were trying to kill him. They were hurting him. Sol was breaking his promise to a friend and he hated it- he hated it so goddamn much. He wanted to help- he wanted to kill one of those attackers so there would be no possibility that he could die. They had all come so far- grown such a deep connection that losing each other is a foreign life that nobody would ever want to live.

They wanted to stay together. The never wanted to seperate paths, go on their own ways because they had been together so long that leaving was such a bad thing. They never wanted to leave. Sol Shim never wanted to leave his friends for it was a broken promise that he made. He told himself he never wanted to leave his friends- but not all promises are made to be kept, are they?

why not just kill one of them now- it'd make it easier for you.

no.

just do it, it wont hurt!

no.

just one single scar, one single touch on them with your spear and that'd be good enough.

n o.

JUST DO IT

NO.

(i am not hurting my friends. but it makes it easier for you i don't care if it makes it easier- they're my friends and i'm not going to fucking hurt them.)

They hurt his friends, they do it enough already. The capitol, these monsters, they've all hurt his friends equally. They've all broken them down.

They're all equally broken from this game of twisted lies. Most could say he had no reason to attack again, to attack that female from ten. But he had an excuse-

he's just trying to defend his promise, because Sol Shim doesn't break promises.

[sol shim attacks noelia, flaming spear.]
SHQWje9uspear
1-50

[Attack 3073 [Spear] is ​*DEEP GASH ON LEFT THIGH*​, +8.0 dmg | Fire 40 is ​*MODERATE BURN*​, +4 dmg]

[total- 12]

spear�1-50

[Loony]

"SO CLOSE YOUR EYES AND LET THE COLORS FLY,

WE'RE COLORBLIND FROM THE BLACK AND WHITE."

Nell was floating above the abyss.

She is laying with her back upon the waters of serenity as deep beneath them rose was an infinitely deep, black, horrifying, reality that would swallow her whole if she dared to splash or swim. Her eyes: closed against the glaring sun. She refuses to move. She refuses to twitch, to kick, to yell, to breathe. She is perfectly still on her precarious calm waters.

Yet the beast still rises, she did everything right, but he still comes for her. She can feel the waters shift beneath her, air bubbles threatening to flip her over as they surface, panic grows in the pit of her stomach.

She does not open her eyes to her death.

The beast arises, and his jaws

SNAP

And she is in mud.

She had tried to pretend she was calm, she tried to do nothing, but that was futile. One does not escape this arena. Once it is clamped onto you, it drags you with it to the abyss, and you will never resurface.

This swamp has it’s jaws in Nell.

And she is never coming back.

She stares at the corpse of the girl with hair almost as blond as hers. Above the body is none other than Sol Shim: an armless, vicious, brutal, powerful murderer and her best friend. He killed again. The victim’s friends: a monster and a cripple. The girl from twelve, wearing the most disgusting armor she had ever seen, and the boy from four, wearing the most amazing shoes she had ever desired.

They were misfits too. The girl from twelve as crazy as Astrid (except in a much more brutal and disgusting way) and the boy from four as crippled as Atticus (a mute boy and a blind man). She would be the girl on the floor, had the roles been reversed. She would be dead.

She should be dead.

What kind of backwards planet were they on where the weakest were conquering the strongest? Would she awaken in cold sweats back in the Capitol on the day of the games? How Why was she alive?

The insults fly like weapons, but she does not partake.

Death, as fickle as he is, will come whether they hate each other or not.

She grips the knife and feels her empty heart drain just a little more as she slashes at the blind boy.

’Attacking a cripple’ Death’s voice is a cool breeze down her neck ’Let’s see how low you’ll go Nell. I’ll be there for you at the bottom.’

But she’s already in the abyss.

[attacks Kite]
_yKeWeEnknife
[2097 -- Deep Gash on Back of Head -- 9.0 damage]

CREDIT TO THE MOST AMAZING PERSON EVER AKA я𝑜𝓈𝑒

knife

[ali]

"DO WE FORGET THE WAY DIAMOND SHATTERS LIGHT?

A SIGHT FOR WEARY EYES, THE COLOURS OF THE TWILIGHT RISE."

This is a filler welp. Dont have time to write rn someone make me fill this in later or not. But here's a bit of shouty shouty

"I've already seen the Devil!" Astrid yelled, her face turning redder than the flames that engoured themselves on the tree "And I've seen him with you! So you better watch your step Celia" She wasnt sure where the name came from "You better watch your back and pray.

[Astrid Shaw attacks Celia Mortuus with Spear]
ZStuhHX0spear
[3143 -- Shallow Cut on Left Forearm -- 3.5 damage]


table by Briar

spear

[Avalon]

[presto][/presto]

Gashes left upon her skin are more than simple just freshly sliced markings that, in due time, will lead to fading scars. Though for now, they're embedded with mixed crimson blood that threatens to flow in rivers and streams, and ultimately stain her once drenched palms. Two lives she's claimed thus far with nimble fingers that have yet to fail her while clutched to twin axes coated with human rust. Her flames had extinguished once again and she grit her teeth to feel the pop in her jaw, she held true flames at the back of her throat that were edging to be released to immolate those who tried to slay her. ( "You can't reap a reaper.", "You can't kill a dragon with its own fire." )


She observed the masterpiece she's put together that added only fuel to the fire that would, in the end, engulf them all whole. Heat waves sending sweat racing down her exposed, dirt ridden flesh, the clothes on her back sticking to her skin and heavy breaths of air that was beginning to be stolen from her lungs. If she wanted to survive for just another day, like she'd been guaranteed with the reaping of another life, then she had to leave and leave quickly. Tugging the axe that slit open the boys neck even slightly in her hand, Celia moved towards an small, open space between flaming rope that led to Kite.

BOOM!

Cannon firing, dragging the attention only slightly of the opposing alliance. Barely hearing it over the roaring flames of the wildfire set alight, she knew who it was for, and it hadn't been a surprise. Although she'd like to admit that she would've loved to see each one of that pathetic alliances members fall and burn to nothing more than ashes in this open fire, it hadn't ended quite that way. Through the corner of her eye she watched Noelia's life get ripped straight from the seams as the blonde hair fell beyond the now limp body towards the ground. Celia suspected the flames would consume her body before she'd be able to get to it and drag her out, however in District Twelve it was how they respected the dead- by burning them. ( She's consumed by nostalgia back to her private training session, where she explained the tradition to the Gamemakers. Reminiscing to the moment she poured liquid fuel onto Quadrys' near dying body, and setting him aflame to steal his last breath away. )


The reality that was in the palm of her hand was clenched tight and she knew it was best to release- even just this once. Her life had been placed on the line, and it was not something that she'd take lightly, for one slip can lead to her fall. ( "A recession will be met once and for all. You'll owe what you do once and for all one day." ) ( "I don't fucking think so. Not today, bitch. Not today." )

---
WIP CUTTING OFF HERE
LEAVING DIALOGUE TO CONTINUE UNTIL DONE

@ Atticus:
- makes it to kite's side and stares for a second
"Damn how unfortunate.
Though I'd love to stay and talk
It seems like 21 questions is over."

"Until next time, Atticunt."

@ Astrid:
- as she's running away dragging Kite from fight
"Then I welcome him with open arms."
- stops for a second to look back at her
"Prayers are for the fucking weak."

@ Kite:
- grabbing his hand to go
"Kite we need to go now."
"There's too much smoke."

[presto][/presto]

table by elegant

[ celia mortuus flees holding kite's hand ]
[ more actions to come later in maint ]

[mat]

"FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE, A VISION OF THE FUTURE'S

GETTING HEARD BETWEEN THE BLACK AND WHITE."

My knife barely scrapes into her skin, once again taking more from her. I asked her for a reason if I was allowed to know if the bones she wore with open pride were Quadrys Lexig's. How one could do that to another human being, I might never be able to tell. The smell of burning wood flows into my nostrils, and the coughing occurs. My body is just trying to get all the bad pathogens I've been around these past six days out of my system, and the smoke inhalation is not helping. The sickening air just makes me sicker which will only decrease my odds in continuing my story.

It hurts to breathe in the infected air of the center of the arena, but it hurts even more not to breathe. Another choice must be made, just like the millions of choices I decided to make over the past few days. Blink, breathe, speak, eat, drink. But this one is different. Do I breathe in the air that is polluted with fire and blood, or do I choose not to breathe, a death sentence on its own.

Another javelin cuts into my skin, and the fire does not come in the package. It hurts, but only because anything that rips through skin and causes bloodloss will hurt. It's not scream-worthy, however. It wasn't like the moment Sol Shim got his arm taken away from him, something we all know he'll never get back. An armolas man with a sad life that only got sadder when he was reaped will not stop fighting, even if he has to do it with one hand at least a mile away behind his back.

I'm only focusing on Celia, the girl from District Twelve who stole the person who taught me so much on that rooftop. I wouldn't be upset with her if he had died of a natural cause, but you never let go of murder. You'll never release the tight grip you had with that person if you know that the cause of the death is still out there, still breathing and laughing about their actions.

I'm still holding my breath, and I will continue to until a cannon signals the perfect time to get the hell out of there.

Waiting..

It hurts to hold your breath, Celia should try it.

BOOM!

When a cannon blows, and I see it's the girl with blonde hair, I take a deep breath in, making steps backwards. Nell and Astrid continue to fight, hoping the now unnumbered two to four pair will leave.

That's exactly what they do. The broken and bone-filled Celia goes to the cripple, speaking words to me as she goes. And I stare, not making a move on her. Maybe she'll bleed to death if she doesn't get medicine soon, but surely she has some. If she's survived six days, she must have medicine to treat the many wounds she should have received by day six.

"Damn how unfortunate. Though I'd love to stay and talk, it seems like 21 questions is over." Her words almost seem like she enjoys the mental and physical pain I go through, the ultimate sign that someone is an insane barbarian.

"Until next time, Atticunt," she says, and then I refuse to listen to the monstrosity. I don't care if she speaks to me anymore, I shouldn't speak to someone who took the bones from a body and put them on their own with pride.

Heated, I take more steps back, ready to sprint out of the burning Cornucopia tree's sight. Celia guides the District Four male back, slowly but they sort of run. I wish I could chase after them, but I remain stationary for a few seconds.

"The next time I'll see you is with your face in the sky, you monster!" I scream, hoping that she comes back for round two.

atticus, i thought we agreed not to use the word monster when speaking about another person. there are better words, you know that.

Right. A story can get repetitive when you continue to use the same word, and a repetitive story will quickly cause the novel to close and go back on the shelf. Not a good read.

"Farewell, Celiasshole!" I scream, combining her name and a curse word. My parents told me to never use vulgar words, but in this case, I hope they realize it's acceptable.

When she doesn't turn back to me, I smile. Once again, all four of us still breathe. Another cannon booms, and my odds increase for the sixteenth time. That makes eight remaining, four of them standing with me. Hopefully, none of them are tempted to make it seven.

It's hard to imagine that through six days, everyone has experienced loss and death but us four. Our alliance stayed whole through killing five tributes and five mutts. Sure, we went through severed limbs and burnt bodies, but in the end, it's worth survival.

I run, just like I have for six days. I'm not afraid to do it if it means I can survive just a few more days longer. Maybe then, I can continue to lengthen my story for many more moons, and I can finally make the name Atticus Manor mean something

Because right now, the name means nothing.


[lanky atticus flees, bye xoxo]
[trib maint is gonna have all the good shit mmm]

ᙖᖇIᗩᖇ ᙖᒪᙓᔕᔕ YOᙀ <3

[gamemaker kelsier]

a l l  i ' v e   g o t   l e f t  a r e   m y  b o n e s

Frustration filled him at his inability to be useful and Kite almost yelled out in anger.

For a long time he'd been wondering why but it had never bothered him so much before. "Why?" he asked the spear in his hand quietly, "Why'd it have to be like this."

Why hadn't his mother wanted him.

Kite hadn't been born blind. He vaguely remembered colours and the general shape of things from when he could see. He could remember being very young and always very cold and his feet had always hurt. They'd often been wet too and there had been holes in his shoes. The cold had seeped into his bones and made a home there among the hollows, like fog over the floor of a forest. It had sat inside him and made him feel sick.

His hand had always been warm though. His mother had always held it.

He could remember her, if he tried very hard.

Her hair had been long and she'd worn it in a braid tucked under her hat. Kite remembered her, how pretty sure was. "She can't have been more'n seventeen, the day she handed you off," Boss would always say.

She'd been too young for a child.

He went blind when he was eight, the day they'd poured acid in his eyes, promising him that it wouldn't hurt much. "We won't hurt your voice or nothin', you'll still sing pretty."

It had hurt very badly.

Kite could remember that still.

He had lost focus.

A blade dug into the back of his head and Kite fell forward onto his knees, searing pain making his feet numb an dhis entire body hurt. He barely made a sound, mouth opening and closing in shock, a strange buzzing sound filling his ears, making him feel disconnected from his head.

It burned;not as bad as when they'd taken his eyes from him, but not much less.

An arm tugged him up out of the mud and Kite struggled to regain his footing.

"Kite we need to go now."

Celia.

"There's too much smoke."

She tugged on his arm and then they were running, feet slipping in the mud. Kite's brain was scrambled, an egg smashed on the ground. Blood slipped down his neck and pooled between his shoulderblades. It was warm but unwelcome, the smell of iron overpowering everything else. He struggled to think, to understand what was happening. Something crashed and fell, the flames from the cornucopia eating everything alive.

Alive.

Noelia.

He stopped, feet sliding in the mud as Celia tried to run on.

"Noelia," he shouted, "We can't leave her alo-

BOOM.

A cannon yelled over the crackling flame and Kite knew somehow that she was gone but the only thing that left his mouth was a senseless scream of pain. So many, so many of them had died. Kite had Celia had outlived them all but he didn't know how or why. By rights he should have been the first to die. He was the liability, the thing to be protected and cared for.

It should have been him.

It should have been him.

[Kite flees with celia]
[Kite uses n/t on self for -5]
[Kite uses 5 ft of bandage on self for -1]
[Kite uses f/a on self for -3]

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

"WE ARE NONE AND NONE FOR ALL. WE ARE THE

SICKNESS AND THE SYMPTOM AND THE CURE."

Despite his pre-teen years, Sol Shim was now quite the lady killer.

Honestly a filler besides that i have nothing i have grown weak in my legs weak in my knees sol is running and probably screaming bloody murder because what the actual FUCK

probably going to break down and cry
or be happy

“Maybe he could return home-
but to what home?

he has two homes, one where luna will reside and at least two of his friends or that home where his brothers and sisters are- where his family by blood is.

but the people that kept him safe all of these days would be gone if he were to go to that home, so what’s the point of returning?

To give them hope; to give them an idea that not everyone--

everyone does indeed break in that arena.

someone may return, but that doesn’t mean they’re not broken.

they do have all their battle scars.


(filler bc i'm a weak lil shit)

[sol flees]
[it's getting lit in trib maint]

[Loony]

"SO CLOSE YOUR EYES AND LET THE COLORS FLY,

WE'RE COLORBLIND FROM THE BLACK AND WHITE."

She used to believe that withdrawal would kill her.

Addiction was cruel, whipping her into a Stockholm slave and reducing her to nothing but these frail bones that stand within hell. Addiction made her believe he was the ultimate God, but he isn’t. There is no true God, just the Gods we make for ourselves.

She used to think that if she stopped shooting up, she would collapse beneath the pain and disease. But here she stands, iron bones and pale flesh still moving, still alive. She is sick, a flu-like weakness was constant as she sweats more than she should in this humid shithole. Her stomach was constantly in knots, but she is no longer vomitting on the hour. She is not dead, addiction has not killed her… he will not kill her.

That job is for someone else.

She grasps the knife in her hands, still stained from the blood of the blind boy’s head. Crimsons droplets sparkle upon the steel. With great care, Nell gathers the blood upon her finger, and watches with disgust as it dribbles down to her knuckle, then palm, then wrist, before falling to the ground at her elbow. The streak of red stains her skin, a sign to the heavens that she will not rise, but fall like the blood she takes.

Another cannon signals another death. Even a druggie like her can do simple math, because she stares in awe at the three people around her. Final 8. Final 8. Final 8.

There can only be one.

She panics for a moment, expecting Atticus to suddenly lash out at her, or Sully to stab Astrid, or herself to slash… who… who here is she willing to kill? No, she can’t let that happen. She won’t. Disillusioned. How had she worked herself into a stupor all these days, to think they could make it to the end?

They would turn on each other… her friends… they would all… kill murder slaughter

They would, but she couldn’t.

No.

killers killers killers
no no no

She loves knows these people, they wouldn’t do that.

They stand together for a moment, and she carefully helps Atticus stitch himself together. But she knows that it’s different, she can feel the end of the road for this group, yet she clutches it like a mother clutches her daughter’s hand on the first day of school. She won’t let it go.

not yet

She walks over to the only girl she knows is not a killer. It’s strange that the only sane person left is insane.

Astrid, the girl from a district of stoic people, wears her emotion on her face. Astrid cares for those she cares about, she protects the ones she loves, yet Nell doesn’t know if she is aware of how much blood has been spilt for them to reach this point. Does the this girl whose mind is so lost know the effect of her actions? Does she care?

Nell isn’t going to soil the girl’s dreams. Never taint the innocence that is Astrid Shaw. Never.

She approaches the girl with care, and carefully questions, ”How’s Eggie doing, Astrid? Still holding strong?”

Nell smiles at the rock that the girl believes is an egg.

Innocence is bliss, yet rots within the sane

CREDIT TO THE MOST AMAZING PERSON EVER AKA я𝑜𝓈𝑒

[ali]

"DO WE FORGET THE WAY DIAMOND SHATTERS LIGHT?

A SIGHT FOR WEARY EYES, THE COLOURS OF THE TWILIGHT RISE."

Boom

The sound of the canon caused the blonde to pause from attacking again, her gaze passing from the dead girl- who's body glowed in the light of the flames- and off into the distance where the canon shot ricocheted from nothingness. The sound lingered, for a moment, then her attentioned wained and she looked to Celia.

But Celia had slipped through her fingers. The brunette was reatreating, pulling the blind boy away from the fire. The girls dark gaze swam through the smoke, billowing from the tree, locking onto Atticus, then Astrid, her words flowing from between her lips like venom of a snakes. Prayers are for the weak. She had hissed, before turning back to the blind boy and running.

Astrid wanted to shout back, tell her she was  a coward, afraid of the devil, afraid of death but the blonde couldn't find the words. Her eyes filled with tears, not from the smoke, but from the ache in her chest that came with the thought of losing her friends. Just as easily as Cecila and the blind boy had lost the blonde beauty from District 10.

Reaching into her satchel, she pulled out Eggie and began to cradle him. Trying to calm him, but more herself. The fire inside her skull was almost at breaking point, the demons claws were deep inside her and she couldn't shake him free; she shivered at the touch of the monster, fear shooting through her veins.

Will they be next yes why them? Why not me. because that is how this game is played, the game can't end until either all those around you are dead or you yourself are six feet under I dont want to see my friends....

Her train of thought cut short as she heard the soft tones of Nell. Her heart fluttered, skipping a beat as she turned her tearful gaze onto the angel. Nell looked tired. Drained. Her skin was still pale, her hair too, despite the ash which had begun to stick to her body as the tree continued to burn; but behind those two blue eyes, Astrid could see she was tired behind that gentle smile of hers.

Astrid blinked, looking to Eggie in her hands "...he's sleeping..." she decided. She hadn't heard him for a few days so decided that he were sleeping. "Lucky thing..doesn't even need the little blue pills to make him sleep. I like the colour blue...you know...its the colour of the sky...the colour of my eyes...yours too"

The blondes gaze darted from the egg to Nells breifly before dropping back to her hands again. Astrid could feel the forthcomings of a blush coming, the tips of her ears began to tingle as they turned red, her nose too. She held her gaze to the floor so that she could hide her embaressment? her bashfulness? She wasn't sure.

"...maybe he needs to go home..." she spoke after a moment, looking to Nell when she was sure that her ears were no long red. She sniffled "...he needs a proper mommy...I can't even do anything right...."

table by Briar

[Loony]

"SO CLOSE YOUR EYES AND LET THE COLORS FLY,

WE'RE COLORBLIND FROM THE BLACK AND WHITE."

Insanity is found in many forms in these Games.

It is present in the boy from 6. His name nearly containing the word that encapsulated his arrogance. His sneer and egotism testified to his disillusioned ideals that he was the hottest shit in an arena literally stuffed with hot shit.

It is present in the girl from 12. Her disgusting habit of carving bodies apart for protection exhibit her pure madness as pretends that she has anything together. Madness must leak from the girl’s pores as she slashes her way through this arena like a lunatic.

It is present in the girl from 4. Astrid is insane. Mildly, yes, but insane nonetheless. The girl from 4 has little grasp on the world. But when she looks down at a rock and pretends to be a mother to an unborn child, Nell does not worry for her, because Astrid is the perfect balance between insane and innocent, a silver lining against two dangerous characteristics.

It is also present in the girl from 5. Nell is crazy to believe that she deserves to have met Astrid. Absolutely loony to think that Astrid is anything but an angel amongst the devils. Nell knows this girl is crazy, but she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to protect her from others, ready to stick her neck out for someone she met just days ago.

She looks at the girl who laments that her egg is cold. The girl caresses the rock, and somehow ends up discussing the blue sky.

If only she could get lost in her mind, wander down the corridors of her enigmatic thought process and take the train of thought to the bizarre.

But she doesn’t have any heroine right now.

Instead, she’s next to a girl with hair brighter than her future if she manages to survive.

"...maybe he needs to go home…,” Nell sighs with a miniscule smile, “...he needs a proper mommy...I can't even do anything right...."

Her smile dissipates, anger boiling at the thought of Astrid being down on herself.

She reaches out to grab the subtle chin, slowly raising Astrid’s head so they stare into each other eyes. sapphire to sapphire

”You listen to me Astrid Shaw. You are absolutely silly to believe you are anything less than perfect. You’ve done everything right,”

Astrid Shaw has never killed.

Nell Locke has.

K i l l e r.

Her voice drifts into the humid air, ”If anything, I’ve failed you, Astrid.”

CREDIT TO THE MOST AMAZING PERSON EVER AKA я𝑜𝓈𝑒

[ali]

"DO WE FORGET THE WAY DIAMOND SHATTERS LIGHT?

A SIGHT FOR WEARY EYES, THE COLOURS OF THE TWILIGHT RISE."

Astrid had always been a failure. It was a known fact to the blonde who's eyes welled with tears at the thought; she may have been clueless but the words of others still struck her like the point of a knife. Fast. Quick. Sharp painful. Those words were what she felt when someone called her a failure. It had been drilled into her since the day her parents had her diagonsed with Schizophrenia.

("what do you mean she's insane?"

"Not insane Mrs Shaw, Schizophrenic?"

"It's all the same isn't it? Oh ripred- she'll always be a failure. Won't she?")

The blonde withheld the sob that threatened to peirce her lips. She stared intently at her hands, theyre shaking, as she stood in front of Nell. Astrid wondered if Nell knew it too- that she was a failure, that she couldn't do anything because she wasn't right in the brain; because her mind was wired so differently than others. A hodge podge of wires that didn't quite line up properly.

Suddenly, Nell's hand was clutching at the blonde chin. Usually, under any other circumstances, Astrid would have resisted as the voices hissed at the contact of another human; it was as if the cool touch of someone else extingushed the voices, causing them to smoke and hiss like they'd been smothered with water. Except, this time, Astrid did her best to ignore them and allowed the silver blonde girl from 5 to til her head up so that their gazes locked.

Astrid blinked, in a desperate attempt to rid of the tears which trickled from her eyes. Nell's eyes are clear but she seems so sad. angry. why. The blonde thought to herself in the moment between their gazes locking and the moment Nell Locke opened her mouth.

”You listen to me Astrid Shaw. You are absolutely silly to believe you are anything less than perfect. You’ve done everything right,”

Astrid breathed in sharply.

Perfect Lies. No! Nell would never lie to me!

She had never been called perfect before, never been told she'd done something right. She'd forever been called a tirade of different things: dumb, crazy, stupid, insane, dense, mad. The list trailed on and on for days, weeks, months and years but not one of those words was Perfect or Right. Not one.

Until now.

The blondes mind fell still, quiet, cool as she lost the ability to hold back the tears she had so desperately tried to hide. They flowed down her cheeks, as her lip quivered and her chest heaved with a shaky sob. Her brow furrowed softly as the angel began to talk again.

”If anything, I’ve failed you, Astrid.”

"No." Astrid came in quickly, shaking her head vigoursly in distaste of the girls words "No!"

Nell Locke would never lie to me

"I don't understand! How have you failed me...I don't..." Astrid brief burst of anger subsided as her tears continued to fall "understand..."

table by Briar