faithless face of a faceless faith; ss v hb v aj [day 1.5]

[heather - d2 [mylee]]

 

Young heart and swift mind—
Often partners of sorts—
Use their talents combined to
Run swift ‘long the course.

Heaven forbid that they
Ever did part
As our mother once said
“Regret would then start.”

Troubled sister and I
And a burden to spare
Never saw the same sights or
Dreamt of death and despair.

My own scream still echoing within the walls of my mind, I had turned navigation point to Scarlett and set off from the center of chaos without ever directly laying my sight upon her after the initial moment of determinism defied. If she was gone then, it was likely she was gone now, but this not in mind, I cling tightly to the whip with one hand and the bundle of crayons in the other, stepping lightly and lost, unaware of any sort of directional guidance.

Steps leading to no high point of vantage, I find myself turning round a corner only to be once again disoriented by the patterns following my feet, seeming to threaten to trip me at every step and snap my bones upon collision.

No person of sanity treads unknown paths without some acknowledgement that danger is the shadow lurking in every crevice of the floorboard. One step further and I am found halted, cemented to my place in the wake of another string of breaths joining my own.

A back turned to my own with no seconds spared for the last thoughts of rationality, I creep forward on shaking feet, the knife situated in my head sawing at the brain stem like it has found sense enough to sever any nerve of thought and administer mercy.

The whip swaying at my side, I take one more step before wrapping an arm around the boy’s neck, free hand pressed to his mouth before leaning forward and bringing my lips to his ear, “Say nothing.”

Same hand released I keep my breath hot on the back of his neck as I wrap the flesh of the whip around his torso, bringing the handle to the small of his back and tying the free end in a knot ‘round it.

If the name of a man is unknown, you label him such as you see him.

S H E L B Y • L E V I A N E

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

MY ONLY FRIEND WAS THE MAN IN THE MOON AND

EVEN SOMETIMES HE WOULD GO AWAY TOO

I lace my fingers tightly within Jano's, filling the spaces between them with his careful grasp. There is blood caking the sides of my nose and bruises upon torn knuckles from the blow I had landed upon a meaningless name in a meaningless game. They matter not to me, anyone but the forces of nature to which I have taken to hiding behind. Jano, Castor, Ingran. Their names are a symphony upon iron-stained tongues and I am not even worthy of calling out for those I will only ever call friends within the confines of my cracked skull. I cling to Jano nonetheless.

He is careful with me and I have to wonder why. Life as a pariah had left me more than certain that I deserved nothing more than unspoken love between locked doors and greedy fists wrapped around innocent throats. I want to tell him that I can take it. Even now my fear is more potent than the ache of my shattered nose or crippled leg but I am too scared of evoking a rage that I would rather live the rest of my numbered say in blissful ignorance of.

We have to find the others. We make small talk or perhaps the smallest talk you can manage in an arena filled to the brim with greed and lust and hunger. I can feel their need gnawing at my bloodstained skin and it is such an ugly color of black that I fear it will suffocate me before another person even has the time to touch their blade to my neck. 

"Just please, don't abandon me." I sound pathetic. Weak. What must the others think of a shaking little mouse depending on the strength and stupidity of everyone else to make it out alive.

. . .


a s r i e l  d r e a m u r r

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

B R O O K E .

This is a filler! I don't want to hold up the fight, so I'm going to finish this after posting. Here's the summary of what her post will be.

⦁ Walking around all on her own after the BB, sees Shelby & Asriel, but doesn't realize what's going on. She explores the mansion, feeling kind of lost.
⦁ Spots Jano running around beneath her & looking panicked; "Hey! Are you okay? What are you looking for?"
⦁ "What? I don't—" she starts with furrowed brows, taken aback. "I don't know who you're talking about. What's happened?"
⦁ "Well, you won't find him by biting off the head of everyone you meet," she begins and crosses her arms, standing her ground. "Can't you be rational about this?"
⦁ "Wait. Your friend — is he short? With black hair? I saw a guy like that earlier with a girl. Does that sound like him?"
⦁ She nods. "It was a few flights up from here. He seemed to be struggling, though, so I don't think that he was with her by choice." She points. "They went in that direction."
⦁ She chases after him, not wanting to be left alone. "Wait! Don't you need help? I can go with you. What if there's more than just the girl with him?"
⦁ She keeps following him, nagging him as they run and not noticing just how stressed he is. "Do you even realize how stubborn you are?"
⦁ She stops in her tracks when they make it to Scarlett & Shelby and the two hostages. She lets Jano do the talking and stands behind him, watching as the situation gets too tense for comfort.
⦁ This is a work in progress.

[rook]

jano karmichael

this town's so strange they built it to change
and while we sleep we know the streets get rearranged
my old friends, we were so different then
before your war against the suburbs begin

The screams grow fainter as I stumble deeper into the madness of this harrowing structure. My heart is thundering against my chest as I desperately gasp for air, my eyes hopelessly searching around the room for something that makes even the slightest bit of sense. My breaths get shorter, and shorter still as I stagger around, the twisting turning hallways and staircases that defy all logic scramble my brain and make my stomach churn. I reach out to rest a hand against the stone wall, or is it a floor? Am I upside down? Fucking hell, I feel sick to my very core. I have to close my eyes.

Block it all out, pretend you're in a forest.

I force myself to take slower breaths, to remind myself of where I am and what exactly is going on. I'm still adjusting to what is real and what isn't, and it's going to take me a few moments to compose myself. I turn and lean my back against the cold stone surface, inhaling through my nose and then exhaling through my mouth with a steady rhythm, just like I have done a thousand times before.

What I saw up there, on the roof, I will never be able to forget. Kids scrambling over each other, clawing for safety. Fists flying around, facial features twisting and breaking as knuckle meets bone. Fingernails clawing at flesh, gauging at eyes, children screaming white noise, bodies lying on the floor faintly gasping at the air like fish. Blood. Blood everywhere.

I've seen this kind of madness before, the sheer lengths that we will go as individuals to survive and protect the ones we love. Is it madness, or human nature? I like to think I would never become like that, I convince myself that I'm not someone who would kill another person, but when I look down at my knuckles, stained red, I can't even remember the face of the person I hit.

Asriel is just a few seconds behind, his face is a white mask, drained from the atrocities that he too has witnessed. As he catches his breath, I move behind him and check back the way he came, my fists clenched at my side. The twisted wooden hallway is still, and whilst it seems to rotate on it's own, creaking and groaning as it does so, Asriel wasn't followed. That's somewhat of a relief, but I don't let myself get complacent.

His fingers wrap around mine and grip tightly, as if letting go meant he would fall. I give his hand a reassuring squeeze as we attempt to navigate through this great perplexity, where logic and sense are literally flying out of the window. Seemingly hundreds of metres above us, Tributes run upside down on shifting staircases, like something out of a nonsensical fairytale. How is any of this possible?

We move up a flight of stairs that seems to arc in a loop, and I quickly am unable to tell which way is up from down. I try to look down, at my feet, but they're walking backwards and everything is inside out. This is all an illusion, Jano, you damn lightweight. Focus. Focus on what's in front of you. I blink hard, gripping Asriel's hand tighter and moving forwards with him until we finally find another room and bundle through it.

I let go of my ally, taking a few moments to catch my breath and retain some kind of sanity. Even just a small dose of this horrendous paradox has sent me spinning. Asriel's face is crumpled, his eyes brimming on the edge of tears, but he is still, like he is a million miles away. Ripred, he's the same age as me but he looks so much younger. I realise now just how completely unprepared he is for any of this. I don't know why he volunteered, or what exactly he is hoping to get out of any of this, but he is very, very fragile, and I'm going to have to go above and beyond to keep him alive. Fuck, I hope Castor knows what she's doing. I mean, I don't want to see anyone die, let alone someone who is essensially still just a little kid, but she could have picked someone who could handle themselves a bit better and keep us alive.

Then, I can talk. It seems I went to the other extreme in picking my ally.

"Killing you." rings in my head again and again, like a siren. I need to get to Castor as soon as fucking possible. Every second she's with Ingran, she's in danger, and that's all on me.

Asriel needs consoling, and I do my best to do that, even if we don't know each other that well. I assure him that things will be fine, and that we are safe for the time being. I give him a hug, which feels odd but he hugs me back, and his innocence is like a rock in my gut. As I let him go, he seems to have some kind of strength again. We both agree that we need to look for Castor and Ingran, especially considering we are both helplessly unarmed and under-equipped. Hopefully our allies will have some supplies.

"Somehow I doubt they're here, but we might be able to find something to use as a weapon, maybe." I glance around the room, finding nothing but cobwebs and creepy paintings, "Do you want to check round to the left, and I'll check this corridor?" I ask after him as I stride across the room, checking under tables and chairs for absolutely anything that is even the slightest bit usable.

"Yeah just, don't abandon me please." His voice shrinks, like a wilting flower.

I smile over my shoulder, "I won't. Shout if you need me."

In the minutes that follow, he doesn't call my name, or shout out, there is just silence, and I take that for a good sign. I have no luck finding anything at all. I had hoped to find a fireplace with some kind of firepoker that I could maybe use to hit someone with. Or stab someone. Would I stab someone, if I had to? To protect my friends? To protect my sister? I can't answer that. I genuinely don't know.

If it came down to it, would I kill someone if my life depended on it? Probably not. If Castor's life depended on it? My stomach twists, and each breath feels like the weight of the world on my lungs. Maybe. Maybe is such a placeholder. A placeholder for the truth you don't want to admit to yourself.

I give up and head back to the room where I left Asriel. My heart leaps.
"Asriel?" I enquire, double-checking the room that he was supposed to be searching, and then the room I left him in again.
"Shit. Fucking shit."

I bolt through the doorframe and towards a staircase further into the mansion, scrambling around every corner. I have completely fucked it, again. How could I be so naive as to leave a child on his own in a twisted arena full of fucking psychopaths who want to kill each other? Who volunteered to kill each other.

Why did he wander off? I specifically told him to check the room round to the left, and next thing I know he vanishes off the face of the planet. Was there a trapdoor? Have I missed something, or did he just decide to aimlessly make a run for it? He wouldn't, surely? He's afraid but he's not reckless, and he certainly isn't stupid. I slow down, grinding to a halt to catch my breath once more. My fitness levels aren't good enough for this much stair climbing, but then again I haven't really been preparing myself physically for a two-week fight to the death.

It dawns on me that he was either chased by another Tribute, or he was taken. I wipe the sweat from my face, salt stinging my bruised eye. Asriel is in danger, then, and all because I left him on his own. I am a monument of failure.

"Hey! Are you okay? What are you looking for?" Comes the most cheerful voice I have heard since the Capitol, and I glare in its direction. A girl is a flight above me, leaning over and calling down to me. I gaze up at her, baffled at her nonchalant approach to seeing another person, it's almost like... Wait, what if she has Asriel?

"Where the fuck is he? What have you done with him?!" I almost scream at her, taking measured steps up towards her. I see now that it's Brooke Destin, daughter of River Destin - I grew up watching those Games on repeat. I don't know her motive, but her peppy attitude has me riled. She is unarmed, and doesn't seem particularly threatening. I'm not one to underestimate someone, but she has no edge to her at all, and quite frankly seems completely out of place. As I get closer, it's obvious she doesn't have Asriel.

"Excuse me, I don't--" She starts, and I push her as I move past.
"What the hell is wrong with you? Get the hell out of my way. I need to find my friend." I mutter to myself. How can anyone be so fucking blasé about everything when we are literally in an arena, being made to fight to the death? I'm sure she's a good person, but it's like she doesn't even realise the gravity of the situation that we're all in. I could be anyone at all. I could be someone who would kill her in a heartbeat, and she's lucky that I'm not that kind of person. If things were different, I would probably have been less blunt with her, but I don't have time to be nice, or civil, not when Asriel is in danger.

"Short? With dark hair? Kind of pale?"

Or maybe I do.

"Which way?"

I don't trust her, because I don't know her, but I don't have a choice, not if I want to find Asriel before some pepped up Career slits his throat, or some middle-District maniac guts him while he is still conscious. There as somethings worse than death, and a lot of people who volunteered do them for fun. I'd die myself before I'd let little Asriel go through anything like that.

She shows me the way, and a large part of me thinks this is an ambush, and that Brooke Destin will turn around and slit my throat as soon as we turn a corner, but there is something genuine about her that masks anything sinister, and I feel more paranoid than anything else. I have no choice but to trust her, that's the reality of it. She may well turn around and kill me, but fuck, I'm gonna die at some point. I just pray I can find Castor before that happens. Dying so that she can survive is the whole point of this, if I get cut down before then, then what use am I?

Brooke doesn't attack me, she leads me to where she thinks my ally was taken, and sure enough we find him, tied up, helpless, and being taunted by someone who looks very much like she wouldn't have a problem cutting him into little bits. There's someone else tied up to, but I don't recognise them - the tension in Brooke's body to my side suggests that she knows the other captured Tribute, and they too are being guarded by a capable looking Tribute.

My stomach isn't uneasy anymore, I am steady as a rock, my breathing focused. He's just a little boy. A fragile, harmless little boy. They want to hurt him, make him suffer, kill him, and for what? For their entertainment? For their pleasure? Because it's all they know? Because they're so twisted that they'd volunteer for this horror show?

Oh, and this is how it starts, like a burning fever that turns good men sour, and bad men foul. My knuckles are white, nails digging into my palms. Dread doesn't dare to touch me when I'm this angry. They took a little boy and tied him up, with plans to do fuck-knows-what to him. An innocent little boy. I have been thinking a lot about how other people can make you brave, but this isn't Asriel making me brave, this is my fucking hatred at the injustice and cruelty of some mindless people. Courage can burn a hole in fear, but anger? Anger burns it to the fucking ground.

"Untie them, or I swear I will smash your fucking heads against the concrete."

Would I kill someone twisted if it meant saving the life of an innocent little boy? We're about to find out.

the night's so long
yeah the night's so long
i've been living in the shadows of your song
living in the shadows of your song

[✨ zozo.]

 

A pounding in her chest - and it's not her heart, dead underneath her skin and bones and hatred - it's the feeling that everything is suddenly, overwhelmingly wrong.

Lazarus Peter Lazarus Peter-

Canon fire: once, twice, three times, four.

He's died once, she has to remember. Death swallowed him whole and spat him back out, the taste of Lazarus metallic, foreign, unnatural. Peter died. Lazarus was born. One in the same, the same in one, the idea of him tumbling through her mind like her presence in the mansion. 

Scarlett thinks she might vomit.

The lack of silver in her hands burns panic in her palms and it consumes her whole - wild eyes, hungry teeth, the stairs twist and fold like her mind and it's all goddamn wrong--

She craves the linoleum floors of her home, the grand staircase, the gun underneath her bed, the knife underneath her pillow, the smell of bleach burning away every trace of her failures. Every trace of her.

She wonders if her mother has burnt down the house yet, ignition sparked from the betrayal of her children, heatwaves from the burning building warming her chilled soul. She's good at that, her mother. Making clean slates. A life in which she has no children, no daughter, no bloodline. 

Good riddance, Scarlett thinks, tearing thoughts of her parents from her mind and leaving them to rot.

A familiar face (fucksakes, he's been crying again) -- but it's not her brother. A lover, sort of, more of a squirm underneath her skin. She finds pity in him, tugging Helios along by the flighty scraps of fabric desperately clinging to his body. 

"Come on, or you'll get yourself killed" she hisses - a distraction, a shield, a--

Ransom.

It clicks, the sound like a revolver, point-blank realisation at the sight of a girl and a whip and a stranger tied up. Bang bang bang and she's back, wild girl with evil in her heart and death in her veins and a grin plastered across her face.

Shit, that kid is smart.

Click click click, bullets of fate loaded, Helios blindfolded and gagged and a finger to her lips silencing the hammering anxiety in her chest. It fades to a dull echo of her brothers name, names, name.

She shouldn't care this much.

But she does.

Fuck.

And then they come, prey to bait, predator with her teeth bared and every muscle on edge, waiting to pounce.

"Untie them, or I swear I will smash your fucking heads against the concrete."

She laughs - manic, ruthless, like wildlife in this tumbling version of hell, spitting out words like venom.

"Give us your weapons and you can have your boyfriends back." 

Tug on restraints for good measure, silver in her sights amongst the reddening glare of death.

"Maybe a little beaten up and bruised... but in one piece, I swear."

S C A R L E T T • S T R O M S

[Deleted]

H E L I O S .

Who am I- my hands shake in a jointed run, head pounding to the scene of a thousand simultaneous foot steps. What makes a person; the piece that bounds skin to soul, I can't picture the variable in my mind. Hooking my eyes into the deep of my elbow -- I don't even remember how I was supposed to die. A figure of peace, something stronger than all of this and I was a fool to believe it. 

I've been here less than a day and I've already forgotten more than I've learned. 

There's no stopping this, my skin beating- from in to out, every piece of yellow fading like radiants outside of myself. I can't piece together what I want: to die quick and sinless, or to kill that part before anybody else can. I've always tried my best to be selfless, to beat out that side of me that screams desire but there's too much to listen to now- people my age dying, killing, running, bleeding. 

Calypso knew I would die. Percy before me knew the same and I even admitted it before I volunteered; I was never made for this and I'm learning why way too quickly. As if my body can't take the gravity shift, I'm pulling myself apart in ways I know I can't process, I don't get to pick my own death. That's the hardest thing about this, assuming I would just cease. Existing under the presumption that there wouldn't be tears and anxiety, I just thought I'd be gone by now I don't understand it.

I'll die alone.

Sinking, my back sliding against a mansion wall and pressing my palms into my eye sockets, pushing until I give myself a headache- living might as well had been a sin. God damn it, god damn it, I just keep messing every thing up in little ways; why is this so hard? I'm just dying, the easiest thing to do, literally nothing. To just cease motion, fade into the black of something deeper and whether I see Percy or not I'll die alone- why does it matter. Why does living another day matter so much, to the point of my skin unraveling and ripping apart the fibers myself I can't do this I can't-

"Come on, or you'll get yourself killed," I bite my tongue. 

It's a gun in my face, Scarlett's harsh voice and the raven in my stomach tries to take flight. Phantom words on my lips, her hands balled and hard in the fabric of my shirt, do it. I want to say, I want to scream and cry and wail until the blood drains from my face, kill me, just- 
do it. 

She's no idiot, no matter how much I try I know I am, but I know she isn't clean. She's no savior and as much as I want the warmth of her skin I know she's nothing but damnation; a murderer. Whether name be temptation or not, Scarlett has my goal in mind more so than I do- she'll kill me. And I crave it. Expert hands shredding soul from body but I can't spit the words, anxiety shakes my body and I can't do it. 

Scarlett loves me not, but nobody ever has. 

I'll die loveless. 

Somehow it hurts more than I could imagine, the only friend I believed I had killing me off; at least she supports my goal here, hmm? 

[heather - d2 [mylee]]

 

Wonder-struck mind
And broken body to spare.
You gave up your heart
Sliced it raw, open, and bare.
How I begged for your heart
And your sins still the same;
Vices and virtues;
Every piece of your name.

I recall taking the three letters of my sister’s name and wondering in what way they could be rearranged to give definition to something with purpose. She had died without such a cause, but still she claimed to give meaning to life in its most primal sense. If one was to ignore the foundational thought of any idea, they would be left with a structure that was prone to give way and collapse upon its maker— thus ruining the beauty of such architecture.

This place in existence which I was now residing me gave the most tangible view into the mind I had so long yearned to untangle. But now, the reality of the situation struck me as the most fearful incident which I could find myself in. There was no path to escape, and there was no way of retracing the way in which I had entered. Within the loss of terminal points came the influx of insanity.

If she had not been with mind in life, she was certain to have found some stability in death.

How she truly chose to exist in between I knew not.

The sound of scuffling feet pricks my already pained mind, and I find my grip on the boy’s wrists growing tighter with the passing seconds of silence. But to be shaded Scarlett in this sense is some sort of source for joy. Decently unscathed she is leading another boy, much taller, and much more familiar to her than the boy in my possession is to me.

Prideful grin unknowingly plastered upon my face, I lift a hand in salutation while using a free hand to fiddle with the leftover bit of whip rendered useless.

She is quick to follow suit, restraining the boy in her grasp and looking proud all the while, and suddenly we are in possession of more power than we had both originally thought.

Kingdom disturbed, a boy and girl interrupt our procession and bring discord to the people, “Untie them, or I swear I will smash your fucking heads against the concrete.”

Brave knight in shining armor accompanied by a girl too timid for her own voice, the two stand shoulder to shoulder, the one man show with an ensemble not desired. I begin to quip back, but am cut short by Scarlett taking the lead that was most rightfully hers, “Give us your weapons and you can have your boyfriends back.” With the hand not holding tightly to the boy in front’s bound wrists, I run fingers through his hair, false interest plastered upon my face like I had nothing better to do with my spare time. When Scarlett then continues I cannot stifle the short laugh that escapes my throat as panic rises on the falsely named heroes faces, “Maybe a little beaten up and bruised… but in one piece, I swear.”

Thoughts drifting to how simply it would be to snap his neck in an instant cross through my mind in the spare time I have between Scarlett’s show of brevity and the anger rising in the dull boy’s chest.

His eyes were still dead when he begins to move towards me, and in them I see the shadow of my sister flitting from our shared bed to the sky and back again, and never once had I been so terrified.

S H E L B Y • L E V I A N E

[shelby leviane attacks jano karmichael; unarmed]

Pm0efUs4unarmed
[tripped -- 0.5]

unarmed

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

MY ONLY FRIEND WAS THE MAN IN THE MOON AND

EVEN SOMETIMES HE WOULD GO AWAY TOO

A crippled boy is worthless in these games. Perhaps it would be merciful- this strange woman becoming the Reaper and sending my cannon's song across this twisted arena. Maybe it would guide Castor and Ingran to Jano- save him the trouble of having to find them. But I don't want to die. There is blood upon my palms as I struggle. I consider begging- stroking their egos and promising that they could have my heart at another time. Another place. Until we find the others, I am all that Jano has. My eyes scan the surrounding walls, desperate for some kind of crack to which our missing friends could be hiding.

"Castor? Ingran? If you can hear me please help." I am so used to my pleas falling upon deaf ears. Shouts after my father's retreating form, begging him to look at me as more than a prisoner for once in his fucking life. Look at your son, Dad! But his eyes were that of an angry stranger whenever they fell upon me. Desperate and hungry and cold. I guess you'd have to become a sort of monster yourself to destroy a child like he has. But he sits upon his high horse, I know. Father knows best, Asriel, even if it is not the best for you.

Greater good, and all that.

I don't want Jano to get hurt defending me. I would tell him I'm not worth it if I were not so disgustingly selfish, capable of only a whimper as my captor lunges toward him. Weapons. Perhaps if Jano had not had to save me from the bloodbath he would have one of those. He could dispatch this woman easily- blade in hand. I'd tell him I was sorry if the word had any meaning left after all these centuries of humanity gutting it. Instead I look around. There is still no Castor. There is still no Ingran. There are only strange faces and fear to bead upon my brow.

It's funny, all my life having been treated as a monster only to see their faces are even more human than my own. The monsters hidden within sheep's skin are the most dangerous. And so, perhaps out of spite, I lash out with whatever force my bound body can manage.

[attacks helios -- unarmed]
5gBtdwxeunarmed
[Bruised Right Foot -- 2 damage]

. . .


a s r i e l  d r e a m u r r

unarmed

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

B R O O K E .

She stands behind Jano as tensions start to reach their peak — silver tongues clash like swords and sparks fly from each union of hissing metal, but this is not a war for her. All she has inside of her mouth are flowers, and the only weapons at her disposal are shaking fists. They clench as she takes a cautious step back from the situation, looking at the two restrained bodies and biting her lip.

She doesn't know either of them, but the sight hits her just the same if they were her closest friends. Her stomach turns and she feels an ocean rise up through her throat in waves; the saltwater threatens to break through the cage of her teeth and drown them all, but she swallows until there's nothing left but a faint burn that courses through her.

All of the anxiety that took hold of Brooke during the bloodbath comes crashing back down onto her shoulders, once again finding herself unable to ignore the severity of the situation, and she wants nothing more than to run away. Stairs fall and rise, everything at an impossible angle, and this is no place for the weak of heart.

She's never claimed to be a fighter; all she had wanted was to see her mother's final quest answered, but she hadn't thought to realize what that would mean for her. Now she's walking on the the sky and the whales are singing just outside the windows — and if she has to go, this is a beautiful place to meet her end. A girl is made up of nothing more than bones; she has no steel inside of her. There is no fire. No ice flows down the length of her veins.

She's everything her mother had been

— and everything Cricket had been, too.

A grave has already been dug for her, an order placed on red carnations, but every road breaks off into two paths. A victor's crown has also been polished and sized to rest perfectly atop her curls, and it's her choice which she makes it home to. There is no promise of life; there is no absolution of death.

The fear does not leave her as she makes her way out from behind a tripped Jano, but instead it guides her. She has to face her reality, that only one person can make it out, and that she should guard her trust. She could save these men just to have her throat cut by them, or Jano could just as easily take her out before either of these girls could get the chance.

She chooses to believe that there is good in this place.

( think her gullible,
and think her soft
— because she is )

Her mother had kissed her before she left for the Capitol; an egg was dropped down into her chest, and now the songbirds that hatched are screaming from their nest between her ribs. She reminds herself that gentle things are not to be dismissed, and that a fool is equal to a soldier.

When she makes her way over to the tribute from Ten, following the heat of the moment and a sudden rush of courage, she tries hard to remind herself that neither of them are promised anything. Her foe has a crown and a grave waiting for her, too, but they both have trials to face.

( for Brooke,
the first is this:
to not lose who she is,
but to never stop searching for herself, either )

All she knows in this moment is that the boys should be free, and that no one should die chained. That's enough of a drive her to act on — so she swings with all of her force.

"We don't have anything. Let them go!"

---

[brooke attacks scarlett; unarmed]
bpzbB5b7unarmed
[Black Eye -- 3 damage]

unarmed

[rook]

jano karmichael

i would fight a thousand fights
lose my eyesight
take a life
i'd kill a man
just to hold your hand

Adrenaline runs through me like gasoline, volatile and dangerous. It coarses through every fibre of my being, filling me with a confidence that I can feel tingling at my fingertips, hot at my breath, and alert like the hairs pricking on the back of my neck. I lean forwards onto my toes, bouncing, practically ready to dart in any direction at a moment's notice. My fists are clenched, my upper arms are tense, growing rigid, ready to club anyone who comes near me

I let my threat hang in the air for a little while, allowing it to fester in the minds of the two girls. Maybe it won't come to violence, maybe they will call my bluff and release Asriel. Maybe they'll run away in fear that I will kill them with my bare hands. Or, more likely, they will ignore me.

"Give us your weapons and you can have your boyfriends back." She drops the ultimatum like an atomic bomb, her eyes resting on me, waiting for the fallout. I'll give her a biochemical reaction, if that's what she's looking for. She plays with the lives of others as if she is the architect of her own madness - Using our allies as hostages for blackmail is not clever, nor cunning, it is foolish. She's making enemies, and that will come back to bite her, mark my words.

"Maybe a little beaten up and bruised, but in one piece, I swear." She follows up, teasing a smile that makes the flames inside of me burn hotter. I grind my teeth, holding my ground as the girl approaches.

"We don't have anything. Let them go!" Comes a determined voice to my side. There is good inside of Brooke Destin. I can feel a warmth emanating from within her, shining in everything she does and all the things she says. She may be out of place, underprepared, and seemingly naive, but I have a gut feeling that she is a decent person, and one decent person is all I need on my side right now.

I am caught off guard as the girl rushed me, forcing be back a few steps as I am grazed by her passing fist. I stagger, my hand reaching out to rest on any verticle surface that I can find. I can't be that complacent again. I bite my tongue and go to war.

She threw the first punch. She only has herself to blame. I don't have to kill her, I just have to get past her in order to make grabbing Asriel and high tailing it out here all the more more realistic.

And if I have to kick ten shades of shit out of her, then fair enough.

"I don't want to have to hurt you." But I will, if I have to. If I need to. If I want to see Castor again.

[Jano attacks Shelby, Unarmed]
5XfxLYX7unarmed
[Bruised Right Shin -- 2.0]

i'd die alone
just to walk you home

unarmed

[✨ zozo.]

She's not used to frail bones and brave faces putting up a challenge. A quick kill seems natural, isolated and alone, wickedly tempting with patience wearing thin until just the right moment to slice, dice, let whiskey and blood mix on the dining room table and escape out the bedroom window. She's used to a fight with someone evenly matched - someone better. Her brother. Her mother. Not strangers with clenched fists and hero complexes. She's not used to falling upwards or walking on walls and it squeezes all the comfort out of her, clenching her teeth and passing it off as a sly smile to the girl with the whip. Now she might be a challenge better suited, but for now they ally behind barricades of boys and blood and broken bones. Someone launches a fist and foul words follow and hell breaks loose from the walls surrounding them all. It spills into their pathway, faces of the daring furrowed and fearful, but Scarlett is used to chaos, used to fear, used to a prospect of challenge. After all, it's how she was made. In the chaos, a blur of freckled orange and sea foam white collides with her head and Scarlett spits, "Little bitch!", fists white-hot and lusting for the crack of shattered cartilage and snapped skeleton.

table by elegant graphic by me dab

scarlett attacks brooke [ unarmed ]
oqD|EWUmunarmed
bruised ribs 3

unarmed

[Deleted]

H E L I O S .

Scarlett tosses me to the ground and I feel myself lurch through the ground, something innate in my being: I'm not used to it, but a part of me feels I should be. Fur wrapped tight across my mouth, she used me, played me- a part of me didn't expect her to leave me for dead and there is no one to blame but myself. 

"We don't have anything." A soft voice, "let them go!"

"Little bitch-"

It makes me feel crippled. Their words something harsh and I feel like I'm intruding, my body next roughly to the other boy, tiny and muttering his own words - I don't pay attention to them. Not that I don't want to, his voice is just as important as my own in a sense but there's too much to pay attention to, too many layers of color that my eyes can't pick up on.

There's a pounding in my foot, his desperate movements and I- I don't know what to do. One grunt in my mouth, I wince; should I judge him? I don't think I have the time to, looking between myself and Scarlett and the red head girl and I don't want to do this. I don't want to fight a child, I don't want to witness this, but I don't think I have any other choice.

So this is what is means to be hell bound.

[attacks asriel]
LlBeDxpG200+5000

[5022 -- Bruised Back -- 2.5 damage]

200+5000

[heather - d2 [mylee]]

 

Call me pariah
Or yet still martyr.
Make me the mother of
Eternity’s daughter and
Take not the history
Of her true father.

When it came to the simplest form of primitive violence, it was scarce to be found in either bloodstream or bone of mine. I was more accustomed to dealing in barter, to giving only with receiving in the back of mind. So why I had stepped out to shove the boy away with bare hands, I could reason not.

A block hand raised in defense as the motion of the boy I had taken hostage catches my eye, but he does not come to strike at me. Instead, he finds his fist making contact with the flesh of the other boy tied, and even then, the blow is nothing more than bruised fists and dignity.

“We don’t have anything. Let them go!”

But, alas, everyone has something to give. Whether it be life or liberty or joy in part, everyone possesses the capability to improve the vitality of another. If death was to be the catalyst here, so be it, but it would not be my cannon that was to ring.

However, it is not the poor man’s claim that catches me off guard, but rather, the voice of the boy just touched that burns my skin white hot, “I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

If it was the pain that I was afraid of, I’d have been dead from the start.

His fist then collides with my skin, but it feels nothing more than numb; nothing more than a needle stuck into pricked skin prior.

Smirk still plastered upon my face, I hear Scarlett scream out words of insult before striking, and I look again to the boy again and shrug as I leave a final offer at his feet, “Then don’t.”

S H E L B Y • L E V I A N E

[shelby leviane attacks jano karmichael; unarmed]

Z4W3qXvAunarmed
[broken right knee -- 7.0]

unarmed

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

MY ONLY FRIEND WAS THE MAN IN THE MOON AND

EVEN SOMETIMES HE WOULD GO AWAY TOO

I kind of want to cry. The pressure behind my eyes is all encompassing, head splitting and heart racing. There is no mercy to be found here. I thought that I would be so jealous of the beauty others possess when I got to the capitol. That kindness and love would spill from between plump lips and now I see how naive a fool I was. Only in body am I sixteen years old; in heart, mind and soul I am infinitely more useless. Like a child searching the sky for any trace of god among his clouds.

The people who took me from Jano are ugly. Black monsters slick with oil and sick. Blood dribbles down their chins and onto their nonsensical uniforms without so much as a second thought. So long as it is not their blood, they do not care. And how I hated each and every person in the Underground- how I loathed their gorgeous, full toothed grins I have come to realize how blessed I was to have adversaries without this poison in their hearts.

A single tear has found its home upon the tip of my nose, eyes shut tight as the boy I attacked strikes back. I feel bad for him, I think.

I feel bad for all of us.

[attacks helios -- unarmed]
QoqdOTlwunarmed
[Bruised Left Arm -- 2 damage]

. . .


a s r i e l  d r e a m u r r

unarmed

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

B R O O K E .

Brooke recoils from her punch and Scarlett's shriek of pain, shaking away the sting that spreads out across her knuckles — and it's not often that a maiden fights back with the snarling beast. She stands alongside a knight, taking charge against those who have done wrong, but she refuses to give into her fear despite the sharp teeth that are smiling at her. The damsel looks into the dragon's eyes, blackened and swelling shut, and she swallows the fire that is breathed into her face. Her chest burns red — and a warm heart cannot break. It is hard like coal.

She huffs when Scarlett lands a blow against her ribs, flames spilling out from her lips in a gasp, and she takes a few seconds to catch her footing and her breath. She parts her lips to speak — to apologize, or to curse — but nothing comes out. The first hit had been hers, and a battleground is no place for softness. This is no home of hers.

(It's late, and I don't wanna hold this up! I'll fill in both of my two WIPs before this fight is over. Thanks for understanding, guys!)

---

[brooke attacks scarlett; unarmed]
ESjoklddunarmed
[Bruised Right Femur -- 3.0 damage]

unarmed