a heathen's home | {reese/jenoah/hyacinth} day five

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

reese lachance

The winner of some bread, and Reese Lachance thought he would catch a break.

He walked behind Pillar, Samira and Sacha by each side to make sure he didn't wander off the edge of a cliff. But his vision was-- not better, but somehow more coherent. The red was still everywhere he looked, but there were more shades of it. Now, he saw the arena through a pair of blurry rose-colored glasses. (Which was better than blobs, right?)

He could make out the shapes of the tall rocks. Samira called them beautiful.

Maybe they were.

He wished he could have seen them before everything, inevitably, went south. It was like the Gamemakers were waiting for them to get comfortable-- waiting for them to breathe for a second, to consider taking off their armor and letting their feet rest before throwing yet another awful concept at them.

Tracker jackers, mutts made of diamonds and rubies and gold, feasts, and now, the very ground beneath them cracking and trembling and hissing as those apparently beautiful stones began to sink beneath the earth.

Reese was frozen-- didn't know what to do, or where to run. He felt the ground begin to give out at his feet and he just closed his eyes. Because this was it. This was how he would die. There would be no goodbye to his friends, no papers back home that said he died a warrior's death. He would be swallowed by this arena and he would be lucky if the Capitol could find his body in the wreckage to send him home for a funeral.

And then, as always, Samira slapped the hand of death away from him, when he felt her hands hot against his side. He tumbled to the left, rolling down a hill, coming to a final rest at the bottom of it. Though the vibrations were still too harsh for him to think straight, the ground was not cracking.

"Reese! Run!"

He stood, and he ran. And he ran. And he ran until his lungs felt corrupt and the day lost its cool, early-morning eeriness. And they were all gone.

He hadn't heard any canons, but the ground happened to be imploding on itself, so he wasn't sure if they were dead or not.

He was disgusted. With the Capitol for doing this, with himself for never thinking to turn back and look for them, with Samira for deciding his life mattered more than hers.

Pillar was his only hope. She had been trained for things like this, hadn't she? She could have saved them. She could have found a way to get them out, and maybe they were looking for him at that very moment. Maybe they were okay.

Maybe he was the one in trouble.

He took a seat to catch his breath for a moment, and the moment turned into minutes, and then he guessed it must have been an hour. He didn't know what the hell to do, or where to go. He was frozen there. He could see the morning sky, though its clouds appeared to be filled with crimson aura, ready to rain blood down upon him whenever it so decided. He could see the dry grass, hear it dancing in the wind.

He closed his eyes and listened.

For a very long time, he just listened.

And he heard it. A person. A mutt. A something. For the skedaddletest of moments, he hoped it was one of his friends. But that was too easy. Yet again, he had been caught with his head down. He was resting, and the Capitol forbade it. And now, he would die. He did not have a Samira to shield him, a Pillar to lead him, a Sacha to heal him.

He had himself.

And when the boy arrived, he knew as soon as he heard the voice and saw his shimmering form exactly who he was.

"You killed Myara." he said simply.

Once, Reese would have only cried. But this arena had burned the nerve endings throughout his body and he was no longer the same person he had once been.

He could be strong if he needed to be.

(Ryan would have been proud.)

"Now, I'll kill you."

[reese attacks jenoah, throwing knife]
I9Wuk4f|throwing knife
[Shallow Cut on Bicep -- 3.5 damage]

coding : elegant
graphic : azaleah

throwing knife

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

j e n o a h

Everything is just going downhill.

Mitchell is dead, I am wounded and now my mind has wandered, I literally have no control over anything. I can’t fight anymore, this is the end, and my left hand is just as useless as my brain. As soon as Asha swung his sword into the furry beast after my dismal attempt, it wasn’t just the mutation that collapsed.

I suppose it was caused by the loss of blood, my fainting… The only time I showed the world that I am vulnerable, how embarrassing. I just remember waking up to a soaked ground and there being a chill in the air, Desimae and Asha nowhere to be seen. Had I slept through a storm? The beasts had been skinned and Mitchell’s body was gone. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. in that moment of darkness, nothing happened, not even a single dream. When I collapsed, I don’t think I slept, I think it was just a taster of death. So that’s it then. Death is just an eternity in the darkness, no thoughts, no dreams, nothing…That is what my mother has endured for so long, that is where Mitchell has gone and where I will be following, at least I am slightly prepared now.

A pain that I have never endured before still resides in my hand, I really ought to tend to it, and death by infection is not exactly honourable. My father would be so ashamed if I was to go such a way but would it matter? Would anything really matter, if I am going to be banished to an eternity of darkness? Just another question Jenoah, just another question.

I think of a way to sew my fingers back into place but I am missing an important item for such procedure…my two digits seem to have wandered off, I’ll just have to cope with them not being there, my left hand will just have to pick up the work. I can’t say I am lacking in any medical supplies but I do wish Desimae was here; her first aid skills are far greater than my own. I make do with a slightly tight bandage around my hand and another on my stomach.

I push myself off the ground, wanting to leave the carcasses of the mutations that took my friend’s life. When I lead Mitchell up this mountain, I had hoped for us to have a break and take in the beauty of this arena from a height, I had never thought it would take his life.

My departure from the mountain is such a contrast to my arrival, alone and my body crippled. Where are they? Have they finally abandoned me? After seeing how useless I was in that fight? More questions Jenoah. It was inevitable though, they want to survive just as I and neither of us can if the others still live. I can just thank them for not driving their weapon through my heart while I was unconscious.

The arena finally brightens but no sun is to be seen. As soon as I reach the bottom of the mountain, the temperature raises steadily, a relief from the freezing temperature on the top. And then reality finally sinks in, I am alone. I have nobody to watch my back, I am so used to being surrounded by help as I am back home, in the state which I am in, the next moments will be a challenge for me.

Can Jenoah Rasoio survive by himself?

I am so used to leading others in a fight but can I lead myself? Oh look Jenoah, more questions.

But I am not alone for long, my mindless wandering has helped me stumble upon another and I don’t think I they’re a friend.

It’s the boy from Seven and like me, his allies do not surround him.

"You killed Myara."

I didn’t want too, I couldn’t help it.

"Now, I'll kill you."

I wanted to take revenge for Mitchell and kill that beast but so did Asha and he took it. If I were Reese, I would want to kill my friend’s murderer too but do I give him that chance? I am alone now. My body is ruined and my mind is melting, I am no longer whole. What is the point in my surviving? Remember your home Jenoah.

All the faces creep into my mind, Arnelle, Caimile, Vino, Nicoli and in the back, there is even my father. That is who I have to survive for, even if I have just a little ounce of life left inside of me.

”I had too, I had too because I want to go home.”

Attacks Reese | Glaive

Oc3bwZ4Vglaive

[13042 -- Stabbed in Eye -- 40 damage]

glaive

[Python]

H Y A C I N T H  M O R T U U S

They trekked away from the feast and its two casualties, the rift engulfed by shadows. When Hyacinth peered between the two rock towers she could see streaks of pink and orange, signifying the sun’s escape into the night, but she did not see the sun itself. It was a pity; if tonight was her last night, she would miss something beautiful from this world. Instead, they were trapped between two walls, scaling crooked rock paths to stray as far away from other tributes as possible. When the earth rumbled, she thought an earthquake would shatter the ground beneath their feet and crush them like insects. No such disaster happened. It only sounded as if the earth was growling in hunger, and this place had an appetite for death.

Her face ached from the fracture, chin wrapped in bandages to keep her jaw as tight as possible. She could speak with difficulty, but chose to embrace silence. The stitches in her neck began to itch beneath old dressings, so her walk was spent fussing with everything until Buttercup mewled from inside of her pouch. They found shelter beneath overhanging rocks, and she immediately scooped a handful of cat food for his dinner. Her own stomach felt hollow, but she knew how long she would survive without a bite to eat. Everyone in Twelve knew their own lifespan without food. It was essential knowledge, or else the children in the Seam would wither away. So many of them had already.

She sat against a smooth rock and listened to Buttercup’s crunching. Eyes closed, she waited for the anthem to play. Mordecai wasn’t here to hold her hand, and Mitchell wasn’t here to encourage her. It was just another day of hell, more droning on as a tribute who didn’t know her own fate. When the music blared, she opened her eyes and tilted her head back. Faces were squeezed between the cliffs of the rift, but they were brighter than a full moon. She could see the first one clearly; a career boy, and she felt relieved. One less terror to worry about.

The second death, Deja Hatcher, helped her match a name to a face. She grabbed the Queen of Hearts card from within her bag, wondering if it could reign true. She had not sentenced Deja to die, not officially. Another boy had thrown the dagger, ensuring she would bleed out if nobody else intervened. Piercing her heart had been a mercy kill. Did the queen of hearts deliver mercy?

Maye followed the line of deaths, her voice practically unforgettable. She felt close to nothing about these tributes. They were once people, once citizens living in their own districts trying to survive, and now they were corpses. She had already realized they would be corpses long ago. There was no reason to feel sorrow over it.

When the final face flashed across the sky, she crumpled the paper card within her hand. She should’ve expected it, a self-sacrificing fool like Mitchell. The closer you are, the more it hurts. She had hoped to hear his voice one more time, and now the queen of hearts had her own heart to worry about.

”Don’t die, Hyacinth Mortuus.”

I’ll try.

She smoothed out the disheveled card and tucked it into her bag. The queen of hearts would not die with him. Home was gone, but she wasn’t. There was still a chance to steal every heart in this arena and leave hers beating the loudest. With newfound energy, she hoisted her pouch, grabbed Buttercup, and waited for the others to fall asleep. The sound of Buttercup’s purrs relaxed her, and it was comforting to know that despite abandoning her allies she would still have company. The numbers were dwindling, after all. She needed to leave before they decided she was expandable, and before she felt the same about them.

Maneuvering a dangerous, rocky path in the dark proved a nuisance. Every step was calculated and cautious to avoid stumbling over edges. When the stars were almost within arm’s reach, she found a small cavern to rest in.

Nobody found her.

Morning light brought her back to the surface, where she inhaled a breath of fresh air and turned her back toward the crooked mountain and its marvelous beasts. There was new land to explore, new hearts to steal, and hopefully another day for her to live. Gloom compacted itself above her head, threatening another day of rainfall, but she didn’t care. Ice water would be medicine for her fractured jaw.

The sun was smothered by grey clouds, but something glowed in the distance. A flurry of colors that reminded her of the Capitol and their ridiculous ensembles. It was beautiful, and therefore she anticipated a trap. Still, she ventured toward the field of treasures until her feet were planted against granite. She paused and listened. There was no wind to whistle in her ears.

Only footsteps.

They were distant, but she heard voices to match. She turned around and spotted two boys, one who had scrambled around blind the day before, and the other – Mordecai’s killer. She watched the blind one hurl his knife, the intent to kill etched deeply into his features, only to fall short. She blinked once and heard a disturbing squelch. The blind boy now had a blade protruding from his eye.

Cannon fire, and he was gone.

She guessed they hadn’t noticed her, but she stepped toward the boy with her sword in hand. However, she halted before she was within ten feet of him, and thrust her blade into the dirt. Nonthreatening. She didn’t want a fight, she wanted answers.

”How did Mitchell die?”

[Hyacinth flees]

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

j e n o a h

The glaive takes over, doing what it has done for the last couple of days. My eyes are closed, a glimpse into the eternity of darkness that I shall endure, if I am not to walk away from this fight. I dare not open them again as I feel the point of the blade drive into something. I have probably nipped him with it and that is all…just a scratch, Jenoah. A stinging pain prances around my arm, the small piercing from Reese’s knife slowly becoming acknowledged by my body.

Time to open your eyes Jenoah.


It’s a nightmare, a gruesome scene like in one of the many horror tales that the men used to share with me back home. And Jenoah, you’re the antagonist in this horror story. I can’t deny it now, this the third time this glaive has taken a life, a new drop of blood now stains the blade. I pull it out of him, such a mess I have made, and I hope he didn’t suffer. All I can do is stand and stare as the cannon sounds.

I’ve seen the causes of eight cannons so far, it is slowly becoming a normal routine.

The first four in the bloodbath.

The fifth by my own hand, Myara Lowe.

The sixth by my own hand, Mordecai Wu.

The seventh my friend, Mitchell Laws.

And now the eighth, another by my own hand, Reese LaChance. Seven hasn’t had any luck for a long time just like Eight and I’ve just added another ounce of bad luck for them…

Another cannon sounds and the familiar aroma of burning flesh begins to march up my nostrils, all I see are flames in the distance and a girl sat beside the thing that is ablaze, the likely thing being a tribute. I’ve tried so hard to get through the games without killing anyone, how I have greatly failed in that task. This is the reality now, if I truly wish to go home, this weapon will have to draw more blood.

It feels bad picking through Reese’s corpse; I salvage his piece of armour and any other items that I deem useful for my survival. Guilt builds at each piece that I take but there is nothing I can do now, what has been done is done. ”I am so sorry, I just want to go home.” I tell him as I take the last item.

So that’s it then, I have really become the man that my father moulded me to be.

I sit by Reese for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts and decide on what to do now. Do I search for Desimae and Asha? Or should I just continue on by myself? I think I have been here at least four or five days, slowly these games are coming to an end, there are not many left in the arena now…

My moment of peace is quickly disrupted by the sound of a weapon hitting the earth besides me. Is it the girl with the flaming body? A quick glance to the location in the distance confirms that as a no so I look up. It’s Hyacinth, the girl whose ally I killed and the district partner to my friend.

”How did Mitchell die?”

Of course, she’ll want answers; she probably believes it to be me, after my personal track record and the body that lies still next to me. If only I could get all the answers to the questions that have swarmed my mind while being in here but there is nobody in this arena that can help with that, not now that my friends have gone.

”One of the Capitol’s toys, a great furry mutation, it slit his throat. He didn’t suffer.”

I don’t even know if my last statement is true, my weak ass fainted before I could even say goodbye to him. I just hope those words will be enough for her.

[Jenoah flees]
[Trib maint to come]
[more shit to come also