four heartbeats {hubris - day 1}

[Python]

There were eyes peeping at her through Ansgar’s wounds – soulless like Celia’s, vacant like Drake’s, piercing her conscience like a spear. Their victory cost the lives of others, but her family’s legacy had been built upon the expense of death and crime. Her nails were painted thick with black market stains. There was nothing new about paying a price with other people’s lives, but there was a difference between standing in front of a corpse on a surgical table, and standing above a tribute who had been breathing two minutes ago. There was a difference between slipping someone a cup of poison and swinging an axe. The intent was a different brand of crime, but that was the irony of it all – this was no longer criminal. It was the Capitol’s entertainment. She could do whatever she wanted, yet she wanted to do nothing at all.

Among the eerily silent aftermath, they gathered their supplies. The abyss on either side of the narrow stone bridge gaped like an earthy mouth, breathing stale winds against their cheeks. She had never been in a high place before; District Twelve was flatlands and dirt hills, and standing over what seemed like the edge of the world filled her stomach with dread. As a group, however, they decided to conquer this challenge. They began their descent into battling fears and taking risks, perhaps the best start to a terrible game. She knew everything about this was temporary anyway. Soon, all or most of them would be like Drake.

”Hey Cinth?”

She thought there would be an echo, but the rift swallowed his voice whole. When she glanced over, Mordecai had a sword to offer. The axe in her hand suddenly felt like stone. A crazy butcher’s weapon, suited for hacking wood and meat. A sword felt more humane. It was a meaningless pursuit of false humanity, but it meant something in that moment. She nodded and exchanged their weapons. What was the harm?

The deeper they stepped into the earth’s jaws, the narrower it seemed. The breaths in her throat were short but calm, because she would not succumb to a fear of heights when a larger threat was lurking around the corner of every rock. They had a grand view of well-sculpted rocks that seemed sturdy beneath their feet. Perfect for expert climbing. A cat could scale these heights without a doubt in its mind that it would reach the surface. Such majestic creatures – and she had spotted one during the Bloodbath. Or had that been an overactive imagination?

”I saw a cat earlier,” she muttered to Cai. She did not distrust Ansgar and Bolts, but there was familiarity in Mordecai. Perhaps that was her own fault for luring him into her bed. Or was he the temptation that lured her?

She didn’t care either way, the fault was her own. She would have to accept it the day she lost him.

”We should catch it. For food.”

She waited for his response. He seemed unhappy – perhaps because he had just killed two people? But even if it was a bit early to start considering their diet, she didn’t want to pass up an opportunity.

A silver parachute winked at them from above the rock walls. She perched herself on the flattest stone she could find, and extended her arms. A large box anchored it toward gravity, into her arms and onto the earth. Inside was a chainmail vest and a tangle of mysterious roots. Protection and food? She nodded in a silent thank you and donned the armor. It felt like a second skin, draped across a frail form. She took the roots and lifted them to her nose. It carried an earthy, sweet scent that reminded her of home. ”I know what this is,” she mused. Valerian root. ”I can lure the cat with it.”

Finally, Cai seemed intrigued. He sniffed the root for himself and noted its pleasant aroma. It was typically used as a treat for those with pet cats – those who could afford not to eat them, at least. An idea planted itself in her head like a seed. A moment later, she pulled off her scarf and knelt beside a rock.

She painted the fabric like it was a canvas, rubbing the root in until its perfume could soak. She could not build a trap, nor had she ever needed to hunt, but it was worth a try. She wrapped the roots up like a present, and set it upon a flat rock. She had a bag of cat food in her leather pouch, and a handful sprinkled next to the scarf would suffice. She didn’t know what the other two thought of their antics, but this was a mission she was set on trying. What else could they do? Avoiding tributes would never last, and there was no need to find a camping site just yet. If this didn’t work – and she imagined, as a rookie, it would take a miracle for the cat to come wandering back – she would brush off the failure and focus on another distraction.

She crouched behind a rock and waited.

[ eleraveagant ]

[gamemaker kelsier]

I pick things up like they're strange to me, items I've never seen before. I vaguely recall some from when I was 13, still a career. I guess that they recall me too.

Someone says that we should take as much as we can carry. I don't know who does. Maybe it's me.

I step over a dead body and stuff a roll of bandages into my bag. It's slightly squishy in my hand and just small enough to be the pet mouse that I left back home in my sock drawer in Four. I hold it tightly and I imagine the way its heartbeat used to feel in my hand, my Tobias.

My little brother that I didn't leave in my sock drawer but with tears running down his face in the justice building.

I shut my eyes for a moment, ears catching the last gasping breaths of a dying boy and all I feel is like I'm home.

There is no sense of loss or regret, after three years of torture, three years of watching kid after kid die in the cages beside me there is nothing. There's only a sense of return, as if the past six months of freedom have been nothing but a respite from the understanding that I was probably going to die soon. It feels correct, as if without impending doom over my head I'm not really alive.

I look down at the boy Hyacinth had been kneeling beside, wondering if I killed him or if they did, the three men with their cages.

Then I think about the weight of the sword in my hands and I know that it was me.

It is a beautiful weapon. Someone like me shouldn't hold it. Someone like me ruins a weapon so pretty.

I look up.

"Cinth?" I hold the sword out to her, offering it hilt first.

She gives me her axe.

It's heavy.

I think about swinging it over and over again into flesh, about the sound of the blade of the axe going in and the out, again and again. I think about how it should sound when it bites, the sucking sound of it coming away from the flesh again, blood clinging to it, sticky.

I hold it tightly in my hand and I stare at it, willing the noise in my head to stop.

I wonder if Ansgar will pray for me if I ask him to.

We finish gathering our things together and I watch as the others leave the log cabin one by one until it is just me and the four dead bodies on the ground. I look at them, wondering.

If they are peaceful.

If they know that they can rest.

"You can haunt me if you like," I offer softly, "I won't mind, everybody else already does."

I don't leave right away, waiting for them to make up their minds.

I stand amongst them for a moment longer, shutting my eyes, I breathe in the smell of iron in the air.

I leave the cabin and step forward, walking behind Hyacinth. If I keep my eyes on the back of her head and I walk then where I go does not matter.

We walk for what feels like a long while, descending slowly into some strange sort of madness. I glance behind us and I see a corpse with broken legs slowly following us, twisted foot dragging in the dirt. It's Kevin. They broke both his legs and all of his fingers too and then he died of the pain. Or starvation.

I watch him follow.

I glance over my shoulder every few steps and Kevin gets closer and closer.

When we are somewhere near the bottom, Hyacinth turns to me, giving me a strange root to smell. I hold up to my nose. It smells good. I wonder if I can eat it. She tells me it's to catch a cat with. I give it back to her and I crouch down, fingers clawing at the earth, ready to catch it when it appears. I don't think I want to eat it, just pet it. I don't tell Cinth then. I don't want her to look at this as a waste of time.

elegant

[Chevi]

BOLTS SPARK

DISTRICT THREE

Nobody talked much as they all geared up. The wealth of items around them was tempting, but not even the four of them could carry all, so choices had to be made. Bolts put on all the armor he could find. It felt alien, like a second, hardened skin, extra weight he would have to carry in the arena on top of all that was already resting on his shoulders. But it was also protection, and he was grateful for that. He strapped the throwing knives Cai handed him around his waist. He would have never thought he would find comfort in carrying weapons, he was not a very violent person - but after having practice with them in the Training Center, the knives carried a sense of familiarity.

They were not the only one.

As they all decided, merely using any words, to climb down into the rift below, Bolts looked back at the bodies of the dead. They would be collected and sent home once the four of them left the Cornucopia. Their Games had already ended. Among them was Rachel, the girl who was a career, and yet had the kindness to help him in training. It might have been only confidence on her part, but she was dead now, and Bolts decided he would think of it as kindness. He wondered what her father thought now that he had watched her killed. Not that his opinions mattered.

The descent had begun.

They climbed to the bottom of the rift, stone walls closing in on both sides. Hyacinth received a parachute. Someone must have liked her. Bolts wondered if anyone had even noticed him in the blood bath. He wondered what people thought of him, until he realized it was stupid to do so. Instead, he watched as Hyacinth came up with an idea.

>>”I saw a cat earlier. We should catch it. For food.”

Eat a cat?... Bolts was not generally a cat person, but he did think of them as pets, rather than food. Then again, he noted with a shrug, it would not even remotely be the strangest, or the most cruel, thing he had to do in the arena.

"I saw it too." he agreed, remembering the glimpse of a cat. He had thought at the time that he imagined it, but if Hyacinth had seen it too, it had to be real. Or some joke on the part of the Gamemakers. He watched her set up the lure, and then took a place beside her, hiding from the line of sight, but keeping an eye out in the other directions. 
He just hoped he wouldn't have to be the one to kill the cat.

BY CHELSEY

[Kire]

Ansgar Todd

They are all silent in the aftermath, as though any noise might start the bloodshed back up again. No one knows if it would be that of others, or if they might tear at each others' throats in a fit of blind violence. He remains grounded only by Ripred and his path. Even as he splits away from the others to join in another round of attacking - by the will of Ripred he defends the weak - he does not lose himself to mindless rage. In the bloodbath, however, he had come close. The feeling of power and guidance had overwhelmed him to the point where he believed each strike was ordered by Ripred and that his only duty was to tear and tear and tear. Knife after knife had left his hands to sink deep into the flesh of others. He had been gifted, he had been powerful. Eventually the settling dust and the drying blood and the silence of the dead brought him back to ground, back to reality. He had not killed, but he had come close. Two near-victims had been struck by his knives before one had fled and the other slain.

Mordecai had remained alone for a while, despite the attention of Hyacinth and the glassy-eyed way the boy had bandaged him. The district four had been in a different space, but not with Ripred as he had been. Now, Mordcai followed behind at a distance, looking lost and shaken. They all did. He, though, was finding better footing with each word spoken to Ripred. Ripred, we are wanderers of this wasteland of war. Our rush to fight the other side has left us shell-shocked and lonely. Even in the company of each other we are still alone. We four are strangers to each other in this moment, separated by the acts we could and could not do. Guide us back together, allow me to heal the wounds they do not show. Forgive us all for that which we could not help. In this game of death and sacrifice I offer my own soul in exchange for theirs. Let me carry their burden, for I know, Father, that with your blood in my veins that I can defeat those evils.

The descent into the rift is a relatively steep one, like sinking further into the circles of hell. As they travel downward there is the unending worry that they might not be able to climb back out again. To his vision the rift is a pit of darkness. No light touches the bottom or sides. The only light is trailing over them in soft waves. Ripred guides their path, but he can not show them their future. They would have to make that for themselves.

At the bottom they see that the ground is not made of teeth, nor fire. There is no presence of ghosts or the strangled cries of the damned - not yet at least. He knows that this arena will soon be filled with a wailing that will shake every stone and crumble every hope. This time is not now, though, and they continue on.

After the bloodbath he had been by himself, praying for the dead. When he had opened his eyes there had been a small pile of cheese placed before him. Ripred had spoken to him, guided him to a gift so that he might earn a loyal companion. He had retrieved the food, keeping it in a pocket in his overalls. Moments later, a large container had drifted down from the sky, another gift, and landed before him. This one, however, had not been from the deity. The vest he adorned was made of fine silver links, able to deflect blows of sword, axe, knife, or spear. With this he would be protected, and for that he thanked both Ripred and the person who had sent it.

Now, they had come to a spot to stop. Hyacinth received her own container which held a vest like his own and a root. The other three began talking and he heard mentions of a cat. His eyes narrowed into an non-directed glare at the thought. He did not like cats, for they were the foul things that hunted and killed the servants of Ripred. They were the Capitol's creatures, symbolizing the way they always played with those they wanted to kill and consume. No, he did not like cats.

They set to work with their little trap, waiting to strike at any hapless cats that might be lured forward. He, though, he went in the opposite direction. If there was a time to call forth his companion it would be now, before that vile cat decided to eat him. Removing the cheese from his pocket, he placed it before him and backed away a couple steps. Kneeling, he put his palms together and began to pray.

Ripred, you offer me the gift of companionship. While you are unable to step away from your duties, you provide me the chance to spend time with a fellow brother while my own is unable to be reached. I hope I am worthy of his company. Let me protect him from the cat that the others call forth. I shall guard his life with my own.

Let him come forth.

He doesn't open his eyes, waiting for a sign that a rat was approaching. There was silence all around as the others waited for their own furred companion. Patiently, he let his soul drift from his body to converse wordlessly with Ripred. His breathing had halted, held back by the absence of a soul to control it. As though in the stillness of death, he waited.

[Python]

Her knees scraped against rock. Mordecai was crouched like a predator, a thousand mysteries hidden by strange behavior and scattered scars. If he could kill two people in less than ten minutes, then she was certain he could pounce on a distracted feline and capture it. There was a darkness in him and she could sense it past his gentler side, but she would never ask questions. To pry was to admit that they had grown too close since their kiss on the rooftop, and she wanted everything to be as superficial as possible. It was easy to accomplish as a prostitute; everything meant nothing, and any shits she gave could be thrown away at a moment’s notice.

But this was different. This was somebody she had wanted to sleep with, someone she had a genuine lust for, and she had no idea what that meant. She had no idea if it even mattered.

Bolts joined them a moment later. He, too, had spotted the stray cat during the Bloodbath. It confirmed that she was not wasting her time, that the illusions were reality. Her mind was not playing tricks on her just yet. Sanity meant everything to her. If she dropped her guard the way she did during her private training session, she did not want to imagine the aftermath. Her every action was critical, every word recorded. Judgements would be thrown at her. Olive and the rest of her family would be watching. She couldn’t follow in Celia’s footsteps; she had to pave her own crooked path. If that meant holding Cai’s bloody hand, then so be it. If that meant listening to Ansgar’s meaningless prayers, then she would keep her ears open.

If it meant killing wild animals, then she would sharpen the edge of her sword.

She did not think herself strong and sturdy, despite years of training her heart and her mind. But maybe a glimpse of the end would conjure an unknown strength and lead her to victory.

Or maybe there was nothing grandiose about the world. Maybe death was death, and weakness was weakness, and a blade would bury itself in her heart because no amount of willpower could save a person. People just died, and that was that.

You know better than anyone.

She heard a scuttle, momentarily forgetting the images of corpses sprawled on surgical tables – herself in their place. It was time to face her distraction.

[ eleraveagant ]

Buttercup lure roll:

WEJQ0yEY1-4
success

1-4