tear stained hearts (bbh v. h | day 5)

[arx!!]

justice
fray 

every wound
will shape me

There is a saying back home—("Act like you've been there before.")—that is preached to the younger careers. It's for tough and unseasoned kids who think that hooting and hollering about winning a fight is the best way to go. The kids that won't just keep their mouths shut. The kids like me.

I have to pretend or my family will figure it out.

The anthem flashes before me and I see Heathcliff's face all lit up and all I can do is point and scream for joy. Because I'm a Fray and that's what I'm supposed to do. Chop off an arm, sever a leg, end a life—smile for the camera. I'm playing more than just the Hunger Games in this arena. And more than anything, all I wish I could do was cry.

WIP WIP WIP ABOUT FEELINGS TBH

Machaon looks like he is seeing dead people. And I don't just mean the ones painting the walls of the caves we've called home for the past five days.

WIP about Machaon drinking potions and seeing things

I can't get comfortable. The gash on my stomach from the dragon that flew off aches, and the even deeper wound on my back from Krigel keeps me rolling from one side to the other. Tossing and turning and keeping me awake with all my fucking stupid thoughts and memories. I can hear Heathcliff scream; it should sound like triumph and victory, but mostly I feel like throwing up. And so I do.

I killed someone today.

I fucking ended a goddamn life today.

I can hear my family back home, proud that I've made my first kill a Career from District Two. Or perhaps even this isn't enough for them? I shift and turn again, groaning as the makeshift stitches in my back and stomach begin to slowly pop, pop, pop. They're like a sickening symphony, a deadly chorus. And I'm so terrified.

WIP WIP WIP about more feelings and sister flashbacks and stuff

---

"Not even I would try skinny dipping in this," I chuckle, glancing out over the still and stagnant lake. "Not even if the hottest girl in the whole damn world offered me a b--"

I'm cut short by the sound of encroaching footsteps. I can see their reflections in the dead pool, like demons floating just beneath the surface. But I know they aren't demons. At least not really. But they are my demons. And I'm sick of them coming to haunt me.

"Look at that Mach, it's your hottie tot district partner and her entourage," I say as they draw closer. I twirl my axe in my hands, catching sight of each one in the group. My eyes settle immediately on my next target. Five.

"Want another kiss, Five?"

I kiss the blade of my axe and smile.

"This one is for you."

every scar will
build my throne

[Justice attacks Minos w/ axe]
1_SS81edaxe
[Deep Gash on Neck -- 10.0 damage]

axe

[Python]

i've forgotten how
to walk by myself
i could do with a little
more of your help

Heathcliff wouldn’t be killed by a sniveling child from Eight, but by a career from One. The axe was an extension of a killer born true to his family name, hacking off limbs as easily as one could rip a bandage. He left the career in pieces, and Machaon was stunned. Somewhere behind him, bones were being snapped and he could only imagine how fresh and hot that pain would feel, how it would follow that tribute until the end of their days. The dragon’s shadow shrank in their midst. Giant wings thrust through the air until he could feel it like a gust of wind. The beast was leaving; hardly cracked and broken, it was soaring away and leaving them to a defiled cavern. Once again, too much blood had been spilled in front of the cornucopia. He was sure the bone hands welcomed that sacrifice.

”I guess it’s over,” he said. The battle, not the war. Nothing would be over until somebody was crowned victor, but for now the dragon was gone and another name could be added to the dead. He surveyed his surroundings and found that the other two girls were already gone, and the remaining tributes – reduced to awkward stumps and torsos – seemed more interested in the bags scattered around the cornucopia. He couldn’t remember their names so he didn’t bother calling out to them. The boy, who struck him as the career type, threw down a pair of gloves. Machaon didn’t sense a threat, so he snatched a bag for himself.

The result was disappointing; another bottle of repellent. He sighed and tossed it over his shoulder. Worthless. He knew his bag was heavy with supplies and he should’ve been grateful to have such a rich surplus, but something new and useful would be nice. Atlas pulled a knife from his bag, and Justice had giant rib armor wrapped around his chest. Great, he thought, realizing he had drawn the short straw. Then he turned and noticed the one-armed tribute gathering his discarded repellent. One man’s trash, another man’s treasure? The gloves were still there, fabric melting against rock. Claws protruded from each finger like an animal’s paw, but he slipped them on anyway. Protection was welcome in all forms. With how fiercely he gripped his sword, he would need something to prevent blisters.

His foot caught on something delicate, glass tinging as it rolled into jagged rocks. A vial. Inside, red liquid sloshed around and it smelled like medicine. Whether he trusted it or not, he was too thirsty to care, and the ache in his foot had returned with vengeance. He downed it in one gulp, and then they were on their way. He could only stand the sight of those skeletal hands for so long, thinking about how quickly they could drag him kicking and screaming into the deepest pits of Hell.

Nestled among the rocks, they healed Justice’s wounds to the best of their ability. He chewed on medicinal plants as something bubbled inside of him, pressing against the walls of his stomach until it cramped. The fucking vial. He mentally kicked himself for drinking a suspicious, blood-colored liquid. It was probably poisonous.

Fuck.

He sipped his water, hoping that it was nothing lethal. He felt stomach cramps but that was all – the usual aches had never left. The anthem overhead updated them with two new deaths, one of which he had witnessed. It didn’t faze him anymore. Perhaps it was because of Heathcliff’s belligerent attitude, or he had grown accustomed to the idea of everyone dying around him. It was no different from home, right? Simply subtract the blood and screaming. And the dragon.

The cramps subsided, and for a moment he thought he was safe. No fatigue, no pain, no worry – until he opened his eyes again, and Percy was sitting on Atlas’ shoulders. She was transparent with a gaping bloody hole in her chest. She pressed a finger to her lips. ”Shhh”

He swallowed and tore his eyes away, only to find more figures dancing in the shadows. Part of him desperately wanted to run away from these visions, because it was not fucking natural to hallucinate dead people, but he didn’t want to alarm his allies. They would call him stupid for drinking a random vial of poison, and that was not unreasonable. He was the weakest and the stupidest, trying to play warrior in a game he was not destined to win. Now he was watching ghosts and trying not to make his panic obvious. He shifted in his makeshift rock bed and tried to focus on something else, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, Stevie was standing over him. One eye stared into his heart like a sharpened icicle, and the other was a dripping socket of red.

It took one smile to send shivers through his bones. He rolled over and threw an arm over his face, eliminating the temptation to look at anything that would drive him insane. He had enough of this already; the thought of Lucia’s vacant eyes, Petra’s severed hand, and Ross with a bottle of whiskey next to his corpse. He refused to open his eyes and see their ghosts hovering above him. It wasn’t real – a mind trick triggered by poison, and he would not play this fucking game on top of the one he was already part of. The Capitol could have his body, but not his mind. The dead would not return to him in any form but memories.

As much as he missed her, he did not want to see Lucia again.

The hauntings left him tossing and turning. Each time he opened his eyes, a new shadow appeared next to him. Gradually they faded further and further into dust, until he was fully awake and questioning whether or not it was a dream. The poison had filtered through his system and he was alive. It left him with an uplifting, grateful feeling that rose him from the rocks, yet he also felt cheated. What was the purpose of that vial? To fuck with him? Little traps crafted by the Gamemakers to attract gullible tributes? You’re the idiot who drank it, remember? But he hadn’t been thinking straight. They were taking advantage of human weakness, and he supposed he couldn’t blame them entirely for his own mistakes.

He sipped the last of his water and tucked the empty jug away. His sword was painted with the crusted blood of two dead tributes, and the thought made his stomach churn. There was a second weapon in his bag; the gem-encrusted hammer he had looted from Petra’s body. It glistened as he turned it in his hands, and it began to feel more like a trophy than a weapon. He didn’t celebrate death, but he hadn’t used it for anything either. Perhaps he needed to. He was no good with a sword, while Justice was amputating careers with an axe and Atlas was shattering skeletons with his hammer. He needed to make a real effort to improve, or else they might consider killing him sooner than everyone else. He didn’t sense that level of hostility from Atlas, but what did he know? Either of them could be plotting betrayal. And they could suspect the same of me.

A mutual will to survive against the odds kept them glued together. He tested the weight of his weapon with a few cautious swings, then followed their lead to a new destination. Black water stretched beyond clouds of mist, stained green where the little bits of light could touch. It was a lake he wished he could trust, but everything about its eerie water whispered suspicious. He kicked a pebble into its depths and watched it sizzle into nothing. ”Definitely not water,” he mumbled.

Justice chuckled. ”Not even I would try skinny dipping in this.”

The temptation to roll his eyes was acidic, but quickly replaced by panic as Justice’s perverted comment cut off. Footsteps bounced across the death pool and stamped against his lurching heart. He gripped the war hammer and felt everything inside of him turn to ice upon recognizing the trespassers.

”Look at that Mach, it's your hottie tot district partner and her entourage.”

”Shut up.”

Nothing about this reunion was amusing; he didn’t want to fight the seamstress from his District. A bearded tribute was beside her, and then another familiar face: Minos. They had shared snacks one night, he recalled. The boy had been high out of his mind. Now he might shove steel into Justice’s heart, if the fountain spouting from his neck didn’t drain him first.

”Sorry about this,” he said, and he didn’t know whether he was talking to Minos or Natalie.

[attacks Minos - war hammer]
miQHQ57|spiked blunt
TWO BROKEN RIBS -- 7.5 damage

spiked blunt

[Tom]

M I N O S

The pool of gold’s glow was torturous to Minos. Renee and Bailey’s spirits stay resting upon the land of amber lights. King Minos’ fall showing only the power of his allies before him. Natalie’s striking determination and strength showing even in the hellish arena. Daniel’s stern look and devastating blows making him an asset to the alliance. But what about himself? Minos was useless compared to him, he’s only killed a bone dragon with cutting it’s own finger off. A sigh escapes from his fatigue body as he walks away from the area, opening the loot that King Minos had been guarding away from them. A needle and thread sit neatly inside, perfect to stitch up the deep gash upon Daniel.

Daniel and Natalie soon join him standing around looking at their loot. Bug spray for Natalie, but she hands it off to Daniel. Favoritism at it’s finest if Minos was being honest with himself. His heart sank at the sight before him. Did Natalie like Daniel? Or did Natalie want him alive longer? Minos couldn’t tell, all he knew was the games were getting more and more intense. Death’s hands waiting for him to bite the dust and consume his soul. While fate would stand in the background, cackling her evil laugh across the whole hellish arena. Talos sits in his hands, waiting and easing the pressure of it all upon him. Hell was becoming a norm to the broken man. Insanity was taking up his mind slow and steady. All of the chains upon him pulling harder and harder to the ground, wanting him to join them in their eternal slumber.

That’s when he noticed Daniel’s gift from the King. A helmet made of bones. A perfect gift for Daniel Tate, since everything Minos has tried never truly makes it through Daniel’s thick skull. Emotions surge throughout himself, just wanting to cuddle up to Daniel. A sadness that would never be quenched in the arena. As Minos eyes Daniel up, his heart pounds as he reaches Daniel’s eyes. A stab of guilt went through his body as he knew Daniel had no care for the broken man who had seen it all and had been through so much. The hell that was created by the fates and death herself asking him to just quit, but how could he? How could Minos Vallanso just quit on himself and his allies. The boy from five wasn’t a quitter, only a runner. Fleeing from his problems. There was no satisfaction in quitting, except for the escape from the hell they were in.

That’s when his humor came back. His voice loud and obnoxious as it always was according to some people he had known back in the day while hunting for the high life. ”Bone Head. Come over here. I got something to help with those injuries.” The typical smirk that he had carried highly in the Training Center reappeared just as fast as it vanished. Minos had done first aid multiple times in his life. Stitching up wounds of accidents and violence in District Five. Daniel Tate was different though. The blood making him want to cry out in anger. Seeing the injury of a loved one was the worst feeling he had ever experienced in his life. It was like barbwire had been shoved down his throat scratching his insides in a sharp, yet quick pain, but Minos managed like he always had. Minos had managed it just like everything else in his life.

Night fell quickly upon them, only reason he knew was the faces that appeared upon the sky. The first one made him smile in joy. Heathcliff had fallen sometime during the day. Unfortunately, Minos wouldn’t get to spit upon his grave and watch as he died from some idiot in the arena who got lucky enough to slice him up. A sigh escapes himself as soon as Bailey Truus’ face appears in the sky. Hollow eyes as Achilles pierces her heart. The life draining from her body, sins repent for everything she had done. Minos had judged her and told the fate what she wanted to hear, that Bailey Truus was a girl whose death was set in stone to happen that day. The world would forget Bailey Truus, like they’d forget Minos Vallanso.

Sleep never came fast for him. It was always a place where the dead haunted him in the depths of his mind. Renee’s hollow eyes. Iona’s pool of blood. Weaver’s blood curdling screams. Hypatia’s eyes staring at him in the howling winds. The memory of Petra learning first aid from himself. Bailey Truus’ body draining of all life. Talos’ final words. His mother’s hatred towards everything that Minos was. These were the things that made him break again and again. Waking up to a cold sweat at every hour of the night. The pain and guilt and a load more of emotions flowing through his body freely like a river’s stream, eventually being dropped into an ocean of sorrows. Or in their case, the pool of golden sorrows. Boiling and bubbling with the sins of the tributes still remaining. Death loomed over them all and Minos had a haunting suspicion that it’d only get worse before it got better.

Morning came slowly, the torturous night messing with his head. Talos, the knife, clinging in his hands as he avoided Daniel and Natalie’s waking forms. No one truly cared though, they all had their own tortures to face upon their head, all Minos could do was protect them from Death’s hands. A mission that’d ultimately lead to his fate of death. A bittersweet death that’d give him freedom from the world of lies. The arena was hell, but what was worse was the thought of the outside. The capitolites enjoying the fighting in the arena. Their disgusting eyes watering as their favorites perish in a creation of demons.

They arrived at a lake never before seen by Minos’ eyes. A liquid of some sort seemed to lay upon the area, yet he knew it was too good to be true. Water in the arena was fake, there was a reason they couldn’t find any, except to be hit by it in the winds. That’s when he noticed the three figures in the distance. The world seems to spin as he notices them. Justice Fray, District one, the man he had kissed once and wanted more from, but that was fake. Justice was attractive, but Daniel was real. Justice was fake, a demon inside of a boy who could have been it all. A boy who could have become something better in a different reality. The man who he had seen in the kitchen, shared a snack with, was there, looking just as broken as Minos was feeling inside. Then a new one that Minos barely knew. The man from District Nine. A man who if Minos was being honest was fairly attractive.

Justice was the first to speak. The words hitting his ears quickly, "Look at that Mach, it's your hottie tot district partner and her entourage," All his mind could do was want to roll his eyes upon the words. Natalie was hot and they were technically her entourage if that’s what Justice wanted to call them, but friends was the better term. Friends who had been through so much more than they could even know. Justice Fray was nothing more than a dick with legs. All he wanted was to act like an asshole, fuck girls, or kill something. A typical career with no brains, unlike the guy from the kitchen, he seemed smarter than Justice. An interesting alliance to have to face.

Justice speaks again words of evil slipping off his tongue like the sizzling that could be heard from the lake now. Acid for sure now that they were close and he could hear it. Acid like the words flying from Justice’s tongue. "Want another kiss, Five?" A kiss upon the axe and a smile, more acids flies from the monster’s mouth. "This one is for you." The blade slashes his neck like nothing. Blood comes out of Minos’ neck gushing out. He thought that was it. That was how he died, but something in his veins pushed him forward. Kept his body standing as the kitchen guy speaks this time, ”Sorry about this,” And he knew he wasn’t as the hammer comes crashing into his chest breaking something. A loud crack and all Minos can do is heave in pain.

Talos is in his hand, easing what pain he can. Souls intertwined together and a hope of life still grasped in his palm. Death stares across the lake at him. Hollow eyes staring straight into his soul. It was his time according to her, but he couldn’t let it happen. Talos’ words sink into his head like lightning, ”Do it for them… For Daniel… For Natalie… For Hypatia… For the fallen… keep pushing yourself. Fight for me Minos. Fight for me!” And so he pushes himself upwards, flips the dangling hair in his face up. A smirk upon his lips as he stares at Justice first. His voice comes out strong, ”Is that all you got Fray? A kiss upon an axe? I think I’ve had kisses that were much worse than that. Sorry sugar, but I won’t be going down so easily. If you want to take me out, I’ll be going out swinging.”

Eyes turn towards the kitchen guy. Minos had already accepted his death since the hand that pulled his name from the bowl. They haven’t accepted it, not yet, but they’d fall like the rest of them. Their sins burned into their skin only for Minos to see. A judge of the damned telling who would fall. His voice is calm and yet filled with so much hatred, ”Don’t say you’re sorry when you’re not, eight. You want what everyone wants, to live, yet you won’t. You’ve faced so much death, and yet it’s only getting started.” Minos lets out a weak laugh that makes him sound insane. Maybe he is, he couldn’t tell anymore.

Nine stands there before Minos. An idea pops into his head before he can stop it. As he watches blood pour from his neck, his eyes filled with a horror that he already knew of. An evil within himself that made him want to cause chaos and mayhem. The storm was raging and so was he. His voice booms out loud with evil underlying inside of it, ”I think to make you pay for your damage, I’m gonna take the life of Nine over here. That is, if you care. I wouldn’t expect either of you to care about your own anyways.” And with that, he turns towards Nine with an evil smirk upon his lips, blood gushing form the wound upon his neck, ribs that were cracked, smashed, and broken. His voice coming through calmer than normal.

”Pick a god and pray, Nine.”

Made by Frankel

(attacks Atlas White with Talos, the Sharpened Horn)
p2YhqfC0knife
(Shallow cut on forearm 3.5)

knife

[[nyte]]

Atlas

Heathcliff is dead. The thought brings nothing but a smile to my lips- relief that Percy's killer will not be coming home as potent as poison through my veins. A good kind of poison, the kind that might just rot me from the inside out. I've lost track of the days, of the anthems that have played and the faces woven from fragile mist. We are children, coated in our own blood and the blood of friends we called enemies.

The walls are closing in, grinding me to dust and painting portraits out of my black blood. I think I should be afraid, death's fingers have burrowed into my flesh, have opened the clumsy sutures I forged in the wake of that dragon's claw. I should be determined. I should be desperate. But there are a lot of things I should be. I am none. All I feel is an ache. A tired kind of ache reaching into the very marrow of my bones. The end is near, I can taste it on every breath. It's not half as heartbreaking as I expected.

The silence is unsettling, heavy as the ghosts sat on our shoulders when I sleep. It is all encompassing, leaving no room for words as I drift into an uneasy rest. When I die, it will be alone. I have Machaon and Justice until I become an inconvenience, until I become weak. Their hearts are made of stronger stuff- of bedrock-lined obsidian and I am nothing but a means to an end. A tool with a hammer slung over broken shoulders.

"Not even I would try skinny dipping in this," The lake is deadly still, a sour stench clinging to the surface. "Not even if the hottest girl in the whole damn world offered me a b--" Machaon kicks a rock into the lake and Justice's words are consumed by a broken silence.

"The hottest girl in the whole damn world could land a guy with a better personality." I mutter, sticking my hands in shallow pockets and trying not to think of how rapidly my story seems to be running out of pages. Skeletal fingers tear into the yellowed parchment, taking bits and pieces of myself with their greedy motions.

Machaon's district partner is here, accompanied by men whose names are lost in this nonexistent breeze. One's a babyface and the other looks like babyface sucked the youth from between his lips. No matter how long my eyes linger upon their features none of it is the least bit recognizable- not even their districts come to mind.

It doesn't take long for the world around me to succumb to chaos, blades and hammers flying over each other in bitter desperation, in a fight for meaningless treasure. Life is sweet, precious even. Nothing to be taken for granted but I would be a fool to say I had not thrown it away every evening I sat on the street too wasted to move. I'm not going to start acting as though this gift means fucking anything to me, it never has.

I was a man born to die.

Babyface says he's gonna kill me, not because he hates me but Machaon- or something else filled with simpering, self-righteous bullshit. I tuned it out. "Pick a god and pray, Nine."

Instead, I laugh. "If any god gave a flying fuck about us, you think we'd be here? You think your neck would be sliced the fuck open?" The words are filled with an anger I don't recognize and his blade grazes the skin of my forearm, it hurts. I am fire, I am the damned. And I am not afraid. "Pray to me, kid, I could do a helluva lot more than any god could."

[attacks daniel -- warhammer]
k7fVKeKCspiked blunt
[DEEP GASH ON RIGHT FOREARM -- 8.0 damage]



spiked blunt

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

TATE

That night dragged on for what seemed like ages.

She died for evil. It wasn't for revenge, it definitely wasn't in pure bloodlust. It wasn't to keep charging forth in this arena. It wasn't because they were threatened with death and had to defend themselves. It wasn't anything that could have been an excuse for it. Because one could kill millions of people, and that revenge would have never been worth it.

You know damn well that in the end, they're just as guilty as you, aren't they? They played the same game as you. But that game was required in order to be at this point. It was a requirement to survive in here. Because if you can't handle doing it in here, you might as well be considered dead. It's sick to know that anyone in here could do it with passion at this point. That any sources of resistance to the place that ruled their minds would be lost. They brainwash everyone to believe that the killing of others isn't so bad after all, and maybe it isn't.

There's twelve left in this place and eleven have yet to die. Is it a bad thing? It depends on who you're asking. If you were to ask Daniel, he wouldn't be concerned at all about it. He didn't care about who was going to die in here; they were all going to end up mindless wanderers anyways. Someone can live, yes, but they're never going to be happy with the knowledge twenty-three others could've been in their place. Nobody deserves to win and nobody deserves to die.

I guess that's why so many people play this game; rebellion against the people who once they walked with. His thoughts danced lightly, dragging on the idea for a short time before they slowed off stage. He sighed, and turned on his side to welcome the black that pooled his mind.

When the morning came he felt himself reluctantly rubbing the sleep out of his eyes which fluttered him awake. It didn't take much for them to start moving, but it wasn't in unity. Minos distracted himself from the group and walked separate from them. Natalie was a few steps behind, and he felt alone. Nobody to turn his head to look at and know that they're just as scared as he was. He had nobody to look at to distract himself from the bubbling fear that settled in his stomach. Daniel had nobody, and that was normal. Nobody would bother with him when he returned home, dead or alive. Not even Blanche or Ike, not even Blair or Marzanna. Not even Coen, if he even gave a damn. Daniel is scratch that, will be, alone.

He sighs for a moment, and soon they had stopped. There were people there, three males. None of them were necessarily recognizable but they had a familiar ring to him. Justice was the only name he knew, a sibling just like him. Though, a sibling means nothing when it comes down to competition like this. They're just the same as the next guy, just as dead. And they quickly pursued onto the task of the dead.

It was less than minutes before the battle started, and all he could hear was the cocky remarks they made. It was a battle of who's the most manly or has the most brute strength. The most powerful of them all. They would never lay down their egos or their weapons.

Typical, he thought to himself. Daniel rolled his eyes.

The battle raged on without hesitations and it was soon he heard the male from nine speak. "Pray to me, kid, I could do a helluva lot more than any god could." It was almost mechanical, the next move he made as the weapon met Daniel's skin. A pain echoed through his brain, numbing his thoughts but not his actions. So, being the bonehead he was, he swung right back.

[attacks atlas, spiked blunt]
PBQO15KJspiked blunt
[block 0.0]
[accuracy reroll]
spiked blunt
[deep gash - 8.0]spiked blunt�spiked blunt

[lance]

so what if you can see natalie brandt the darkest side of me?

They had done it.  The overly talkative mutt had fallen, having taken one too many attacks. Bailey Truus was lying lifeless on the ground, the fire blazing behind her multicolored gaze extinguished forever.  She regrouped with the two she had come to call friends, listening as Minos made one of his standard wisecracks in the direction of the two girls.  ”Daniel. Nat. Let’s get out of here, I think Achilles and Eckhart are starting to stink up the area.” He ended the statement with a devilish smile and a wink, and she shifted her gaze from him to the girls.  Achilles. That was the name of the Career girl that had decided to side with them. She made a mental note of that, storing it next to the mental files of "Don't trust this girl." and "She's crazy strong even while injured." that had been stored in her memory mere moments earlier. Eckhart rolled her eyes in response, turning away with a hint of a smirk on her face. But the Career - Achilles - simply narrowed her eyes.  "Make no mistake, you three." Achilles spoke, voice cold and collected. "This doesn't make us friends. What happened to her-" She motions towards the lifeless corpse of Bailey.  "-could have easily been one of you. Don't forget it." Natalie narrowed her own eyes in response. I'd like to see you try, Career. The words echoed throughout her brain, but she only dipped her head in response.  There were other things to worry about than the threats of a broken girl.  *** Boom. Heathcliff Travers. The other fourteen year old, and the second in a row from Two.  She recalled the defiance that glittered in the boy's eyes when she and the others had stumbled him and his group of allies, the look that even though he was battered and bruised, even though he was younger than all but one other tribute, that he would still brain anyone who tried to threaten him or his friends.  She wondered who had finally extinguished his fiery spirit.  Boom. Bailey Truus. She felt a mixture of joy and sadness as the mismatched eyes of the District Ten girl glared down at her one final time.  She had hated her for striking Hypatia down. She had sympathized with her when the weight of her own sins had penetrated her demeanor. She had been furious at her for attempting to claim the life of another of her friends, and she had lashed out at her not with the intention to kill, but with the intention to make her suffer.  Achilles had killed her before it could go much longer, and just like that, the blazing wildfire that had been Bailey Truus was just another lifeless corpse on the ground.  Bailey Truus was finally dead, but her burden was not Natalie's to carry.  She wasn't quite sure how she felt about that.  *** They had walked for hours, an unspoken agreement that they should put the pool of molten gold as far behind them as they could.  Her throat had been hydrated by the container of water that had fallen from the sky the other day, her energy somewhat replenished now that she was not suffering from the effects of dehydration. Sweat once again glistened on her brow, if only slightly, but it was something. But though the most immediate need was dealt with, the thought of food and the fact that they needed to find some and fast kept flashing across her mind.  She struggled to remember exactly how long a human body could last without food before collapsing. She had heard stories of people dropping dead from lack of nutrition back home, those that were too unlucky to earn or find any kind of sustenance whatsoever.  She thought about how lucky she had been compared to them. Though she and her mother had occasionally had to skip a meal or two when work was scarce, they had never been in danger of starving to death. They approach a pool of some sort of dark, viscous liquid. Her first thought was that they had stumbled across some hidden reserve of water, but the theory was quickly shattered when she noticed the surface bubbling strangely.  That's clearly not water. she thought. So then what the fuck is it? Too late, she heard the footsteps from off to her right.  Whirling around, she made out three humanoid shapes through the fog. Her blood chilled. Other tributes. The shape on the furthest left emerged first. Her eyes narrowed as the cocky, swaggering step of Justice Fray became recognizable  a second before he appeared. The Career's trademark smirk was every bit as dazzling and irritating as it had been in the Training Center, and she had considered herself lucky to have not been on the receiving end of his attempted charms.  The shape in the middle was next to appear, and as soon as she recognized it, she immediately wished she hadn't. Oh dear Ripred no. "Mach." she breathed. Then, louder, "Mach!" Of all the people that she had hoped she would avoid running into in the arena, Machaon Amador had been at the top of that list. The two of them hadn't really connected beyond acquaintances back on the train and the Training Center, but he was from home. And if her last breath was to occur in the arena, then she had wanted him to be the one to escape alive.  "Look at that, Mach, it's your hottie tot district partner and her entourage." The unmistakable voice of Fray broke through her train of thought, and she bristled in response.  How could Mach have possibly dealt with traveling with that fuckboy for the last five days? Fray kisses the blade of an axe she hadn't seen him wield before, before lunging at Minos with impossible speed. There was a flash of white and silver, then a burst of red as the Career opened a gash in her ally's neck.  Her eyes widened as she realized just how close Fray had been to slitting her friend's throat. Another inch, and Minos would have been as dead as Bailey, choking on his own blood as life escaped from his body.  Mach follows, aiming a hammer at the injured boy. "Sorry about this." he spoke, seconds before a CRACK echoed throughout the arena.  No, no... Shock gave way to anger, and she turned on her district partner, eyes blazing. "'Sorry about this?' Can it, Machaon." she growled, voice laden with ice. "If you truly were sorry, you'd be trying to brain that obnoxious fuckboy of a Career you've somehow avoided being decapitated by, not my friend." She tosses her backpack to the ground, grabbing her horn out from one of its exterior pockets. "How you've even managed to survive this long in his presence is beyond me, honestly. You do realize he's going to turn on you, right?" she continues, rage burning like a fire in her belly.  She watches as first Minos, then Daniel rush to engage the third shape, who she vaguely recognizes as the boy from Nine. As Daniel leaves a sizable gash on the boy's arm, she turns her head to where the smirking Career is standing not far away. "I don't want to fight you, Mach." she says,the anger gone from her voice. "But if you strike my friends, then I'm not simply going to stand by and watch." This is probably the stupidest plan you've ever come with, Brandt. Shut up. I know. "And if it hadn't been for him, we might have just been able to avoid this." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, before thunk-stepping her way over towards Fray Plastering a devious smirk on her face, she speaks.  "Hey there, Fray." Her tone is light and airy, a complete change from the anger that had filled it moments before. "I see you've taken an interest in my so-called entourage, as you called it." Her smirk transforms into a full on grin. "But come on. I know you can't be that interested in them after all this, right?" She stabs her knife towards his arm, intent on repeating her maneuver with Bailey on him. She likely couldn't beat the Career in a one on one fight, but she could make him bleed. "How about I give you a taste of the main attraction instead?"

Inspired by the lovely Chelsey <3

natalie attacks fuckboy justice with her horn
Y9ESsjxqknife
2142 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage

mmmmm give me a taste of that accuracy fam
knife
2180 -- Shallow Cut on Left Forearm -- 3.5 damage
knife�knife

[arx!!]

justice
fray 

every wound
will shape me

"Is that all you got Fray? A kiss upon an axe? I think I’ve had kisses that were much worse than that."

I smile because the kid is making it easy for me—playing this game of pretend. It's easy to put on a show when others are so willing to play along. Of course I'm a little pissed off that this prick thinks my little ritual doesn't work, seeing as if I had managed to sink my axe just a little bit deeper... So close yet so far. And now the kid is spurting blood all over my quality tailored boots.

I ready myself for another witty comeback only to be interrupted by Five's incessant monologuing. Apparently these damn tributes have a thing for rambling on and on. It's like the kid is reading from a teleprompter or had been writing all this shit down and mulling over it for years. It's like a bad novel or some shit. I glance at Machaon with wide eyes and wonder if he's even said as many words in his entire life as Five is spewing off right now.

"I didn't ask for your whole life story, I--"

And I know I shouldn't give a flying fuck what he says, but somehow, his next words piss me off.

"I think to make you pay for your damage, I’m gonna take the life of Nine over here."

And as his blade catches on Atlas' arm, I--

("My middle name is Sodomy.")

--I just really want to end his fucking existence.

But as I make my way forward, raising my axe above my head with a flush in my cheeks and knuckles white the girl from Eight steps in front of me with a smirk plastered on her face.

"Hey there, Fray."

Her voice isn't angry—in fact, I'd say it's cute? I make a poor attempt to grin devilishly, but all I can see is Beard-Boy-Man-Bear swinging his weapon, the follow through splaying an arc of blood.

"I see you've taken an interest in my so-called entourage, as you called it."

I glance back in her direction, her blue eyes shining bright even in the low-light. I clench my jaw and try to refrain from getting lost in them. Her lips twist into a grin. Is she--No. That can't be right. This is the arena. No one is really that crazy.

"But come on. I know you can't be that interested in them after all this, right?"

... but this really does feel like flirting. And clearly, seeing as she is turning me into a dumbstruck boy, she is just as good at playing this game as I am.

She lashes out at me and I'm not quick enough to avoid the sting of a blade through flesh. But that only breaks my concentration for a moment. I hiss and grimace and then glance back up at her and chuckle through the pain.

I smile at her, licking my lips.

"How about I give you a taste of the main attraction instead?"

She's good. But I'm Justice Fray. And it doesn't matter how good she is. Because I am the freaking greatest.

"A taste of myself?" I say, grinning. "I'd love to taste bits of me on your lips."

I snort and shake my head.

"Like Five over here was saying," I say as I turn away. "Just get on your knees and pray, baby."

every scar will
build my throne

[Justice attacks Minos w/ axe]
iSmsSVa6axe
[Deep Gash on Left Calf -- 8.0 damage]

axe

[Python]

i've forgotten how
to walk by myself
i could do with a little
more of your help

He knew better than anyone that humans were fragile creatures, yet the snapping of bones still startled him. His war hammer connected with the boy’s ribcage and suddenly he felt as powerful as Atlas, standing upon a pedestal of broken skeletons. He didn’t know what he had expected; a sharp influx of triumph? A warm sensation that would carve his own beating heart into a golden trophy? That sounded like a career’s life, not his. Perhaps Justice was rejoicing in how he had narrowly missed slitting Minos’ throat. The fountain pouring from his neck was enough to weaken him, but not quite kill him just yet. With so much lost blood and broken ribs, however, there was no telling how long he would last. Machaon didn’t feel good about any of it. All he could recognize was dread curling in the pit of his stomach.

Minos proved to be sturdier than any tribute he had ever met. He didn’t fall flat on his face or double over to catch his breath – in fact, he didn’t hesitate to snap back at them with jaws unclamped. ”Don’t say you’re sorry when you’re not, eight,” he said. Machaon groaned internally. Again with the dehumanization, using numbers instead of names when Minos should’ve remembered. He didn’t want the Games reducing him to a district and a statistic. The people trapped within this hellscape were humans, not puppets, each with their own families, personalities, aspirations, talents, and weaknesses. The Capitol stripped them of these details, leaving them bare and primal. Blanks slates to be rewritten by violence.

”You want what everyone wants, to live, yet you won’t. You’ve faced so much death, and yet it’s only getting started.”

He could count the days on a whole hand. This was not the beginning; this was the eye of the storm, yet nothing compared to a fire-breathing dragon. It didn’t leave him feeling any more confident or fearless.

”Last time I checked my heart was still beating,” he lied, because it was pounding against his ribcage like a pendulum hanging by one string. ”And that means I’m living. Maybe I’m not living a life of hope, but I don’t think anyone here is.”

He could lie to himself about hope, but reality always reminded him that there was none. Machaon was dead. It didn’t matter if he sat on his knees and prayed to a false God or the Gamemakers, and it didn’t matter whether Natalie was right or not. If Justice betrayed him, he was dead. If he betrayed Justice, he was dead. If they fled their separate ways, something else would ensure of his death. The number eight meant nothing to The Capitol. To him, it meant home, and it also meant never seeing home again. Natalie was a vision of the train, the food, his house, his father smile, his mother tears, and a casket he hoped he could be buried beside. She was a welcome face during dark times, but what she had to say would not comfort him before death.

”What do you want me to do, betray a career? Like that’ll work,” he grumbled. Justice was standing right fucking there, most likely prepared to gut him if he even considered the idea of backstabbing him. Justice had the temper of a child, but he was poise and ready to pounce. He could slice limbs off in one swipe, and slit somebody’s throat with a blade as short as an axe. Machaon had tasted an ounce of his power the night he had socked him in the face. He was not about to plead for more.

”And no offense to your friend here, but he sounds crazier than Justice. Talking about ‘taking the life of Nine to pay for our damage’. What the fuck? Also his name is Atlas, so you can stop referring to us by some fucking numbers.” The last sentence he spat at Minos’ shoes. A pet peeve, he recognized. He was not the best at remembering names, but why not learn everyone’s name now? As they sliced and diced in front of an acid lake, why not pay attention to someone’s real identity? He respected Petra’s identity and she had perished days ago. Nothing would ever make him forget.

”If Justice is so dangerous to you, why is your ‘friend’ not attacking him? He’s the threat, right?” He scowled. This was not the reunion he had envisioned, bickering over the life of a career who had helped him stay alive. He was an obnoxious asshole with plenty of bite to back his bark, but he was still an ally. The time had not yet come for them to separate. With Atlas here, there was still glue to hold them together.

Unless they murdered him, of course.

”What a load of shit. I am sorry that we have to fight, but I’m gonna defend my friend just like you plan to defend yours.”

[attacks Minos - war hammer]
yIOGDc1Dspiked blunt
Miss

accuracy reroll
spiked blunt
Miss

spiked blunt�spiked blunt

[Tom]

M I N O S

God did not exist, only death. Death and her greedy hands every year taking the lives of twenty three children. Twenty three of whom deserve a life worth living, but have to face the terrors of an arena and plenty of murders. He couldn’t tell the difference between murder or sacrifice, not anymore. Too many have died and for that he had learned to accept that death was inevitable in a hellish place that they were in. One would make it out and carry the story of them all. A reminder of the loss and torture that they were all put through. That wouldn’t be Minos. Death’s cold and boney hands already were approaching, time was running out and he knew it was. Death was the price he would pay for everything in his life.

People say that when you start to die, you can feel it in your gut, the terror and an unknown feeling eating out your body, the fear of what’ll happen next spreading through your body. A chill upon his spine and blood as warm as his body spraying down his neck. A mess of a corpse is what Minos would end up being. Neck gaping open, almost sliced completely through. Justice had done a number on him and yet something inside of him kept him standing. Standing tall and proud even though inside he was cowering and ready to accept the darkness. The eye of the storm is what they were in, this was the start of all of hell, Minos would be the beginning of the end.

As soon as he made a small cut upon Nine’s body, the man’s voice reaching out over the laugh, "If any god gave a flying fuck about us, you think we'd be here? You think your neck would be sliced the fuck open?" There was no god in the world, if there was, he or she was a failure to everything. Gods and goddesses don’t exist in the hellish world they live in. Only Death existed and she was always waiting around for them to be killed like the animals in District 10, they were all waiting until it was their time to be slaughtered. Nine continues out loud, "Pray to me, kid, I could do a helluva lot more than any god could." And he strikes Daniel hard in the arm. A new gash taking place. Anger feeds in his body, like a virus spreading, until it’s overcome him. His hand reaches into the pink backpack, grabbing the bone dragon finger. His hand flies throwing it in Nine’s direction, voice filled with anger, ”You wouldn’t be able to do anything better than a god, you’re nothing more than a dog who obeys Eight and Justice here. So go fetch asshole.” And the finger was gone, the only thing he could manage to kill. A freaking baby dragon.

That’s when he hears Machaon speak truth, they were all the same. In the same situation as every last one of them, yet Machaon was wrong. ”Last time I checked my heart was still beating, and that means I’m living. Maybe I’m not living a life of hope, but I don’t think anyone here is.” Minos feels the need to ask if he really was living. No one truly was living in the world they were in, only the dead come to the Hunger Games. Only the dead truly make it out of the arena. Only corpses find the comfort of death upon exiting the arena, with nothing more than broken bones and bloodied bodies. Minos was nothing more than that, a corpse to be with a bloodied body. Nothing would be the same anymore, only death or somehow living, but Minos wouldn’t live, too many people sticking their necks out to kill him. Make him another statistic upon a spread sheet. Five killed by Two and Eight. Nothing truly amazing will be remembered about Minos Vallanso, only that he was going crazy. Which he already had been going crazy, since the start of his life, he’s been crazy.

”And no offense to your friend here, but he sounds crazier than Justice. Talking about ‘taking the life of Nine to pay for our damage’. What the fuck? Also his name is Atlas, so you can stop referring to us by some fucking numbers.” Eight Machaon was lecturing him about names in the middle of a fight, he could care less, no one will remember them by name, only by their number, unless they won. No one would remember them all. Minos Vallanso. Natalie Brandt. Daniel Tate. Weaver Rhodes. Iona Holbrook. Bailey Truus. Heathcliff Travers. Machaon Amador. Atlas White. Justice Fray. Petra Vipointe. Renee Perdris. Hypatia Anning. They were just names that’d only come in the memory of the few who truly cared. Memories of loved ones that they held back home. People would forget them like they were garbage, but Minos didn’t speak, not anymore.

That’s when he hears Machaon speak before attacking again, ”What a load of shit. I am sorry that we have to fight, but I’m gonna defend my friend just like you plan to defend yours.” Justice Fray, a friend to all, more like a monster. Minos easily dodging the giant fucking hammer like it was nothing. Machaon was defending Justice for being a piece of shit and all Minos wanted to do was tell him to fuck off, but words were lost off the tip of his tongue, so instead he spoke in what he believed to be true, ”More like he’s got a fist up your ass and you’re his puppet. Watch your back, Machaon. I am crazy, but I know the assholes from the good guys. Kill me if you want. I’ve already accepted my fate since the day my name was pulled. Nothing I can do to stop it now.”

That’s when he heard Justice spit acid like the lake at Natalie. "A taste of myself? I'd love to taste bits of me on your lips." And he snorts like a fucking pig, which Justice Fray acts like most of the time. The anger soars through his veins like the blood that provides him oxygen. Minos wanted to cut off that asshole’s tongue, so much more than he thought. Shut up the asshole for good, but he couldn’t, instead he listened intently, praying that Natalie would sever his tongue. "Like Five over here was saying, just get on your knees and pray, baby." And that was enough for Minos to hear. Anger swelling up in his chest, swinging himself forward, words falling form his lips. ”Stealing lines now, Fray? Isn’t that sweet, but if anyone is gonna be on their knees, it’s gonna be you. Now let me show you how a real man kisses.” A kiss upon the blade, Minos swings at him.

Made by Frankel

[Minos loses the bone dragon finger by throwing it towards Atlas]

(attacks Justice Fray with sharpened horn)
x6Eqtwb|knife
(Miss 0.0)knife

[[nyte]]

and every heartbeat was a scream

Machaon has cracked. There is a chink in the smooth stone of his skin, the polished granite is little more than a facade to which he has always shrouded himself. They are my friends, no matter how unrequited that affection might be. I've been with them through everything- through literal fucking hell and I regret none of it. None of the lives I have helped in stealing, none of the laughs I shared. Getting to know Stevie, getting to know Percy- no matter how painful all of this has proven to be, I am happy. Satisfied as Death approaches. She has been there too, hands ever present upon the hollows of my cheeks. She has taken my life, bit by bit. Collected every drop of blood spilled upon cold stone. I don't need their blades to know that I am going to die.

The bearded one's hammer tears through my skin. Leaves a gash upon my chest filled with fire and anger, with blood that crawls down boiling skin. It hurts, oh it hurts. It's almost a good kind of pain, anchoring my feet to the floor and my tongue to the inside of my cheek. Also his name is Atlas.

My name is Atlas.

"You wouldn’t be able to do anything better than a god, you’re nothing more than a dog who obeys Eight and Justice here." Babyface throws me a bone- quite literally. It sails past my face and onto the ground somewhere behind us, clattering to a halt just before the bank of the acid lake. His composure is nonexistent, his words are fire and brimstone come to warn us of the end of this world.

It's fucking hilarious.

Go fetch, Asshole.

"As much as I love belly rubs and curling up on guys' laps, I'm a tail or two short of being a dog." My smile is not filled with malice or fear- there is not even an ounce of rage trapped between the upturned corners of my mouth. But it is not birthed from amusement nor from joy, there is nothing to feel in these final moments. But that's okay. I smile because what else is there to control? I smile through the pain and the anxiety, through what threatens to swallow me whole.

My eyes find Machaon, softening as the cracks in his armor continue to crawl along his shoulders, down his waist and onto his chest. "It'll be alright, Machaon. No matter what happens it'll be alright." There is a certain dread settled in the pit of my stomach, so heavy that I think I may fall through the floor right here and now. Perhaps it is the pain of my torn skin, perhaps I am already dying. I can't be sure.

Babyface sure likes to talk, more than Natalie and certainly more than Beard. I'm not even sure he knows what utter nonsense he's spewing, I can't catch more than a couple of phrases at a time.

"More like he’s got a fist up your ass and you’re his puppet. Watch your back, Machaon."

Well, that's enough to give me pause. To widen the smile that now spreads from cheek to cheek.

"Is that what you two have been doing while I sleep? You could have at least invited me."

I swing to fill the silence.

[attacks daniel -- warhammer]
mP8oetbAspiked blunt
[GASH/BRUISED LEFT COLLAR BONE -- 3.0 damage]

. . .


☠  a  t  l  a  s   w  h  i  t  e  ☠

spiked blunt

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

TATE

Daniel rolled his eyes and turned his head to look at Minos. Daniel soon found himself speaking for the first time in what seemed like forever. ”Minos, the only thing I'm praying is that you shut the hell up.” The dude was asking all high and mighty, when really, he was getting his ass whooped.

Then again, Minos seemed free of his opinion so it wasn't Daniel’s business. Shaking his head, he fought through the pain the floated in his mind.

filler because i don't want to hold the fight up

[attacks atlas, spiked blunt]
0Dvcc|Qespiked blunt
[result]spiked blunt

[lance]

so what if you can see natalie brandt the darkest side of me?

"A taste of myself?" Fray responds to my question, a wide grin spread across his face. "I'd love to taste bits of me on your lips." She scoffs in mock annoyance at the response, her own grin not fading from her face.  But Fray isn't done just yet.  "Like Five over here was saying," he continues, turning away from her. "Just get on your knees and pray, baby." She feels her cheeks heat up at the last comment and is secretly glad that the Career had already turned away from her. Fray, having seemingly lost interest, darts away from her and back over to Minos, landing another critical blow on him.  Dear Ripred why? Her diversion tactic was once again failing. Not even the biggest womanizer ever to grace Panem's soil could stay distracted by her for long. It seemed that despite the sheer amount of fuckboyery that Justice Fray possessed, he still was a Career at heart. Somehow. She sighs and begins the arduous clunk-step journey back over towards the main engagement, but Machaon's words stop her cold.  ”What do you want me to do, betray a career? Like that’ll work.” She pauses, before turning to face her District partner. Embarrassment was replaced by a burning wave of shame as she realized that he was right. "You're right, Mach." was all she could muster in response.  ”And no offense to your friend here, but he sounds crazier than Justice. Talking about ‘taking the life of Nine to pay for our damage’. What the fuck?" She put a hand to her face at that, shaking her head in irritation. Ripreddammit, Minos.  For she did not have a suitable response to that statement. "Also his name is Atlas, so you can stop referring to us by some fucking numbers.” Atlas. She turned her head away from Mach and towards the District Nine boy who was currently locked in battle with Daniel.  ”If Justice is so dangerous to you, why is your ‘friend’ not attacking him? He’s the threat, right?” Not five seconds later, Minos broke away from Nine - no, Atlas - and turned to face Fray, yelling something indecipherable at him before lashing out with a clumsy strike. She turned her head back towards Mach and raised an eyebrow in response, but still, she said nothing. ”What a load of shit. I am sorry that we have to fight, but I’m gonna defend my friend just like you plan to defend yours.” Finally, her words found her.  "I'm sorry too, Mach." Her voice is quiet, lacking either the ice or the fire that had coursed through her countless times since she had stepped foot in the arena. "I can't speak for the actions of my allies, nor for their words." She gripped her horn tighter. "What I do know is that your Career buddy is the one that started this fight, and that you were the one that joined him." Her voice wavers, but just a little. "As I said before, I don't want to fight you. Truly, I don't." And she means it.  "But as you can understand, I'm also not going to stand around and do nothing while my friends get cut down. Maybe I can't beat Justice, but I won't know until I try." She turns away, unable to look him in the eye for her next words. "I've already killed one boy who threatened my friends these Games, Mach." She pauses, taking one last glance at her district partner. "If I have to kill another to ensure that Daniel and Minos live to see another day, then so be it." She takes another deep breath, before clunk-stepping her way back to the fight.  Eyes once again set squarely on Justice Fray, she strikes.

Inspired by the lovely Chelsey <3

natalie attacks justice with her horn
5AlgQpMRknife
2179 -- Deep Gash on Right Bicep -- 8.0 damage
knife

[arx!!]

justice
fray 

every wound
will shape me

You'd think they'd all have the sense to at least whisper when they are talking about me? Not that my parents do. They taunt and threaten no matter where I am, who I'm with, what I'm doing. ("Justice isn't worth shit. I think even Pillar has a step up on him in terms of skill.") I ran away once when I was little, thinking that somehow I could escape my parents by running from them like a coward. They found me a day later, eating scraps from a garbage bin. I think my father had Kellan beat me to a pulp.

Long story short, I've learned to block it all out. It's like I hear my name marked with scorn and disgust and I don't even hear it anymore. It's just easier to stay focused that way. The only time I'll ever enjoy the sound of my name is when it booms throughout the arena with pride and glory—("Justice Fray, the winner of the 73rd Hunger Games!") That and when girls whisper my name breathlessly in my ear. I enjoy that, too.

But rolling off the tongues of the lower district snakes in front of me? Ha. I don't hear a single word. All I can gather is that I'm a Career looking to kill everyone while their backs are turned. The first part is true; I am a Career. But the second part...

I glance at Machaon and Atlas. An image of Stevie pops into my head. Everyone thinks that I'm some heartless, misogynistic asshole with a dick for a brain. Clearly I've done a good job at playing my part.

"More like he’s got a fist up your ass and you’re his puppet. Watch your back, Machaon."

I don't want--I mean, they do have to die. But I--

"Is that what you two have been doing while I sleep? You could have at least invited me."

I laugh. It's the middle of a fucking fight and I can't help but laugh. Genuinely laugh, not the fake kind, and not the kind made for the camera and microphones to hear. Real.

And I don't want them to die.

A blade gashes deep into my arm for the 4th fucking time in 5 fucking days and all I can do is yelp and suck air through my teeth. I'm keeled over to catch my breath when Five approaches me. He takes a jab at me and I roll away, swinging with full force right back at him.

"Fisting? Can't say that's my kink. Sorry."

every scar will
build my throne

[Justice attacks Minos w/ axe]
zfmJD02laxe
[Shallow Cut on Left Calf -- 3.5 damage]

axe

[Python]

i've forgotten how
to walk by myself
i could do with a little
more of your help

His opponent’s skeleton was no longer a magnet, and his hammer sailed past his body. Its weight carried him awkwardly toward the lake, and he righted himself near the shore. Days ago he had nearly singed the hairs on his head when he rolled toward the pools of molten gold. Today would not be the day he melted his own feet off. He gripped his weapon tightly and found Minos again. He was knees deep in crazy, labeling Atlas a dog and demanding him to fetch. All of this demeaning banter was exhausting – nobody had the decency to treat each other like equals, save for himself and Natalie perhaps. Her opinion of Justice was lowly, but everyone hated the careers. They overachieved, they thrived, and they killed heartlessly. What was there to like?

Except it was a stereotype. Not all careers bathed in their own achievements. Not all careers succeeded in a game they wasted their lives training for. Not all careers had hollow chests. Justice certainly had more emotions than the next tribute, although his way of expressing them was problematic. He simply shrouded himself in a façade of obnoxious comments and confident smirks. Was it annoying as fuck? Yes. Did it make him any less of a human being? No. Yet he was certain the others disagreed, and therefore killing him would be less of a sin and more of a chore if they could succeed. Perhaps it would be easier if they did kill Justice. After all, he didn’t trust a career not to betray him in the dead of night, but he still couldn’t wish for the boy’s death. There was never enough hatred within himself to do so.

”It'll be alright, Machaon. No matter what happens it'll be alright,” Atlas insisted.

Words whispered upon deathbeds. Every family said that to their sickly daughter, and in the end she died anyway. It sounded like a contagious case of denial. He wanted no part of that. ”I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Minos had more to say, so he stepped away from the acid waters and listened. ”More like he’s got a fist up your ass and you’re his puppet. Watch your back, Machaon.”

”Well that was a disturbing image,” he said, and he was determined to ignore the snarky comments because he was never one to see the humorous light of any situation. Death was grim. Any moment now they could kill Atlas or Justice and he didn’t want to walk away from their corpses. If he could run and cower in the corner so he didn’t have to watch them die, he would. But even he was not stupid nor frightened enough to submit to that. They needed an extra hand to fight for them. ”It’s also wrong. Justice doesn’t play any part in what I decide.” Most of the time, that damned career was off on his own rampage.

He wasn’t hot-blooded enough to stay angry with his district partner. ”You’re right, Mach.” His heart settled, but he didn’t feel comforted.

”I’m sorry too, Mach.”

Don’t be, but me too.

She was also right. Justice had kicked up the storm by trying to slit Minos’ throat, but what would’ve happened otherwise? Would they have exchanged howdys and trudged on their way, balancing themselves on the shore of the acid lake? He doubted it. If Justice hadn’t lunged first, someone else would have. He didn’t trust Minos or the bearded tribute to keep their weapons behind their backs.

”Fair enough,” he said with a nod, ”But you shouldn’t blame Justice for this. He started this fight because he’s smart. He knows this is the Games, and tributes don’t walk away from each other. If he didn’t hit first, I’m sure Minos here would’ve tried to gut him. Everything can be argued as self-defense.”

The spikes soaring past Atlas’ head was self-defense. The stitches Natalie ripped across Justice’s arm was self-defense. When Machaon raised his weapon, it was self-defense.

Or maybe he was tricking himself into believing so. It justified murder, didn't it?

”Don’t worry, I know what you guys are doing is self-defense.” His eyes darted to Minos, coated in blood and crazy. Atlas was wrong when he said that everything would be alright, but maybe there was hope that things could be a little less than alright. Not terrible, not devastating, but bearable. That meant the three of them surviving this storm of sailing steel and mouths dripping venom. That meant taking another swing at Minos. That meant wishing he could sentence Minos to a grisly death.

He was the worst wisher in existence.

”Let’s see who the best defender is.”

[attacks Minos - war hammer]
CKxLMUV|spiked blunt
block

spiked blunt

[Tom]

M I N O S

Minos was dying. It was clear, pain was soaring through his body, but he stood tall still. Mind over matter in the end. No one could hold him as a loser, he’s fighting for not only himself, but his friends. He was one good hit away from death, his bones aching from the pain. The gash from his neck wound dripping more and more blood. His orange tank top soaked through with his own blood. All he wanted to do was curl up in a bed and be sung to sleep like he used to have to be. Drugs were his life. And all of it was a waste. Minos Vallanso wasted his life away because of drugs. Nothing else and nothing more.

His mind made him think he was high and mighty, godlike almost, but Minos wasn’t any of that. Only a man with one life to live. Not a god. Not a good guy. Not a bad guy. Minos Vallanso was a boy from District Five who never truly knew what life was, until it was teetering on the edge of it. The realization hit him hard, and it only made him want to cry more and more. Daniel Tate’s voice filled him with hope, like it always did. Even if Daniel was trying to be an ass. ”Minos, the only thing I'm praying is that you shut the hell up.” And so he did. He shut the hell up. Eyes stare back at him as he’s teetering on the edge of death, any hit could kill him. Anything could have done it.

All he wants to do is stare at the scene before him, Natalie’s gorgeous blonde hair flowing as she strikes at Justice Fray again. Slicing into his arm, causing a wound so great that it’d take Justice a second to bounce back from it. Natalie had always been there for him, even when he was a mess of a man. Drunk and intruding on her room, ready to puke at any moment, and yet she had a good side to her. If she made it out of the arena, he could see her being the next Katelyn Persimmon, a woman who cares for everyone that she meets. Natalie Brandt was a savior in every way. An angel sent from above to help them in their journey, unfortunately, Natalie couldn’t save Hypatia, but that wasn’t her fault or Hypatia. Life vanishes before them in a blink of the eye. Minos would soon join the same fate.

Eyes watch Daniel and Atlas fighting it out. Atlas speaks something, but Minos is too lost in his mind to realize it. Daniel is his focus, the man who had stolen something special to Minos. His heart. The biggest thing in him to give to someone so special, but he knew death waited around the corner for him. Tiny tears prick at his eyes as he knows his soul will flow into the void, never getting a chance to tell Daniel Tate how he feels. His voice breaks out to Daniel in the madness, knowing fully well Daniel will either not show he cares or will shrug it off, but he still speaks strong. Tears threatening to break. Daniel! I can’t take this. I need to tell you now, before I die. Before I venture to my afterlife, heaven or hell, or somewhere in between. It was never supposed to end up like this. I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but I can’t… Not anymore. I have to tell you…” His blood flows from his neck with every word. He’ll either bleed out or get stabbed to death, but in that moment he stands as tall as he can. ”Daniel Tate, you’ve stolen my heart. I… I love you… don’t you ever forget that bonehead….”

And he can’t bear staring at Daniel again, not for a bit. Let the bonehead absorb his words and ignore whatever idiotic comment Justice Fray would have. Minos had been through so much with them all. Natalie stands next to him. His secret was out, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care about Natalie either. She was a savior to him. A girl who turned his life around with just one offer, even if it wasn’t what he had wanted at the time. Natalie Brandt was the woman who kept him grounded and barely sane in the arena built to create crazy tributes. And with any strength he has left to speak, he does so to her, ignore more comments by Atlas and Justice Fray. ”Nat. Don’t think I forgot about you. You’re my best friend, my first real one ever and I truly hope you won’t forget that. Since the day I met you, you’ve turned my view around. You’ll always hold a special place in my heart, and I in yours, hopefully. No need to protect me anymore. My time is up. Give em hell Nat.”

The silent tears running down his face and a smile that only death could take away. The world was full of darkness, but there was so much light that nobody could see around. Lights that glimmered beautifully upon the world they lived in. With Darkness, you truly realize how much more precious the lights are. The storm was still raging, but it’d be over soon. Nothing but destruction and memories of the mess it caused. Minos Vallanso was the storm. Daniel Tate was the king. Natalie Brandt was the savior. And this was their story, but soon one would end. A story of the lonely boy fighting for his friends. A protector of sorts, to help keep them all safe or die trying.

The story wasn’t ending yet, but the climax had hit. Words written upon the pages, telling of the tale of Minos Vallanso. A man who tried to keep it all together for them, not himself. The most valuable lesson he learned was in the final moments of being alive with them. Love and compassion was the answer to life’s greatest mysteries. Minos Vallanso stood before them all, head held high, tears gone from his face. He was no god, only a kid with a knife. Machaon spoke before him telling of what Minos would have done, but it was lies, only Minos could know. ”That’s where you’re wrong Machaon. I don’t strike, unless you hurt my friends or me. If this is about who’s the best defender, then you don’t know the real way of being a true defender.”

A smirk sits upon his face, just like the way he started his first day in the Hunger Games. Confidence flowing through his body, yet fear of the unknown. His goodbyes said, his life will be gone. Death lurks around the corner waiting for Justice or Machaon’s next strike to end him. And he would accept it with open arms. He spoke again, out loud to whoever, his body felt on fire already, blood dripping down his neck. ”Machaon! Justice! Atlas! Just kill me already. End my life already, or are you too weak to do it?" As his eyes set upon Justice Fray, the man whose lips had touched his own, he struck with all the strength he had left. A final thought stuck in his head, I’m not sorry, Fray.

Made by Frankel

(attacks Justice Fray with Sharpened Horn)
UlghX8GKknife
(Deep Gash on Left Calf 8.0)

knife