Trying to Find My Way Back Home [Ems]

[Deleted]

Curse Jinx

[newclass=.jorggradient1]text-align:justify; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #4e4828, #5c312a, #302b2f, #7b8086, #444d6c);linear-gradient(top, #4e4828, #5c312a, #302b2f, #7b8086, #444d6c); -webkit-background-clip:text; color:transparent;[/newclass][attr="class","jorggradient1"] This mansion is quite bigger than I would have expected it to be. Granted it did hold about 25 of us up on it’s roof but that still didn’t give me any clue as to how big it actually is. With all of its twists and turns and quite physically impossible walkways and stairways, I was starting to get a headache. At least I wasn’t trying to get out of this place alone, I had Ivar following along behind me. He was able to keep me some good company, and I am quickly realizing how much of a friend he is. I’m still carrying the picture that he enjoys with me, not wanting it to get ruined for as long as possible. I’m glad that Ivar is happy with it, hopefully it will get his mind off of some things.

This mansion seems to go one forever though, and I am starting to get pissed off. I hate confined spaces and I am starting to miss the open, salty air from back home. I miss looking at the horizon and seeing the blue waves extend farther than the eye can see. It was comforting to think that we may not be the last ones alive, to think that there was something more than just this fucked up society that we live in. But now all I see is the distorted walls and perverted angles of the Capitol’s creating. I wonder how they managed to build this all, with everything seeming to defy the physics of actual reality. None of it makes sense to me, and in all honesty I am just wishing to get back into the ocean, and to swim along with the waves.

That when we start to feel a warm mist of fog coming towards us. The scent of salt water fills my lungs and I become exuberant as I start to follow its trail. As I slowly walk closer to it I start to realize that it is not the salt water from back home. While it may not be natural in its source I know that smell everytime I smell it, I smell a swimming pool. And I am so grateful because it could have come at a better time.

“Ivar follow me! I smell something, come on let’s go!” I state with overbearing joy. I start heading off, knowing full well that I have Ivar crawling behind me. I look back to make sure that he is still within each other’s line of sight. When I get to the source I become one of the happiest people in the building. The swimming pools takes up the majority of the space, with rooms and sides for people to walk and move around, stained glass windows encompasses the entirety of pool, allowing for sweet natural light to get in. I start to sneeze from the sudden change in moisture, but I know that I’ll get accustomed to it again. At least hopefully I will. The tiles create a beautiful, simplistic mosaic of an ocean scenery, and I get struck with homesickness. Even though I know that there isn’t a good chance that I will ever get back home at least I have the pool to keep me company. I walk along the path until I find a suitable spot, underneath some stain glass roses and a rope, which I take down from the wall,, and start to strip. Taking off my gaudy clothing until I’m left covered in those strings that really don’t cover anything to be honest, Ivar’s painting leaning up against the glass, I finally leap in.

The water is warm, unlike the ocean back home, but it seems to be doing wonders. I can feel the stress and tensions seep away from my muscles as I swim lazily around. The water feels enticing as it laps around my body, and I feel at home as I ever will in this place. I wish my brothers and sisters were here. Phoenix would brood from the sides as Spell, Charm and I would get into water fights. The younger ones would probably join in as well, causing a bit more of rucus though. I give a small chuckle at the thought, wondering why I ever decided to leave them in the first place. I shake those thought aside as I see Ivar try to creep away from the water. I bob my way over to him, wondering why anyone would not enjoy the water, swimming is one of the best things in the world! I don’t want to push him out of his comfort zone yet. So I ask him to hand me my clutch, and I grab out a blue crayon that came out of the ceiling earlier.

“I want to show you something,” I tell him, hoping to ease him up a bit. I start to draw out a more elaborate version of my trident back home. Drawing seaweed vines along the handle, I draw it out to be almost as tall as I am, it’s a general rule that you don’t want your trident or spear to be shorter or taller than you. It is supposed to be an extension of you, and it can’t do that it you two are different sizes. I continue on with the head of the trident, creating a three pronged fork with sharp, arrowed tipped heads. I add more seaweed cascading from the time, while normally we would detest that when we are fishing I am very aware that this is a picture, so of course I am going to take some artistic liberties. In the handle I write an inscription, ”May you be Jinxed beyond your wildest dreams. May you be Jinxed with everlasting success and happiness.”

“This would be similar to my trident at home. Mostly we would use them for fishing or retrieving other things from the ocean, but they can be used as a spear to if someone really wanted to.” The sadness lies deep within my voice. There is no denying that, but I realize that I cannot let my guard down. We seem to be the only ones on this side of the pool, so maybe I can at least process some of my emotions for now, but at the moment I turn to Ivar. I still see the uneasyness in his eyes.

“Hey are you doing alright buddy?”

[Curse Jinx grabs a Bath Robe]
[Curse Jinx draws a Trident]

[Knuckles]

i v a r   h a m m e r f e l l
now the dark begins to rise
save your breath, it's far from over
leave the lost and dead behind
now's your chance to run for cover

The devil resting on his shoulder cackled commending him on a job well done while the angel tried to fight against it. Right and wrong didn't matter once inside the games, but the war raged on inside. Ivar wanted this, he wanted to win, he wanted the crown at the end of the games, and he was one step closer to making it happen. One step closer to reaching the final goal. Unfortunately, fifty-one had to die. It was a heartbreaking moment realizing that Curse was only a pawn in keeping him alive, but the young Hammerfell understood the meaning of it all. Training to survive, trying to keep himself alive. Trying to do what he had to do to win. Lorenzo was just the start, and while the deceased tore through his soul, Ivar knew it had to be done.

But who was he to stop a man from burying his friend? Back in two he had been to so many funerals. Mason, Orion, Torka, and he understood someone wanting to give them that final resting place in piece - Ivar stole that from Lorenzo, he stole his life away, and yet he swore he didn't mean to. All he wanted was a chance to injure him just to make him flee the battle, but it went too far.

Killing was wrong outside of the hunger games, but inside it was the right thing to do. Make a face appear in the sky, it was his dream for the longest time.

A silent sigh escaped his lips as he slithered across the marble floor. Vibrant eyes locked on the trail of blood behind him knowing a tribute could easily find him, but Ivar was prepared. Fighting was his life. Fighting kept him alive. It was written in the depths of his DNA.

"Do you think we're far enough away?" He asked quietly trying to hide himself from the rest of the world. A blank face was what he wore keeping his eyes narrow. It was his way of asking for a break. He had been dragging himself without a break, and now he was growing tired. Resting would get him killed, and he knew that, but he had to stop for a moment. Gather his belongings, and figure out where to go from there. He wanted to explore, to see the wonderful creation the gamemakers created. So far he applauded them in how they made things work, but he wanted to see more. Perhaps away from the bloody stairs.

Instead of finding a place to rest, Curse found something, and shouted for Ivar to follow.

Snarling, he slid behind him trying to go quick to keep up the pace. The sweater was becoming heavy, and it was becoming more unbearable as the blood crusted to his skin while the metallic scent entered his nose. A toothy grin showed his bloody teeth, and he tried to pretend that the world was strong, that the world was fine. That the devil sitting on his shoulder knew exactly what he was up to. A door opened, and all he saw was a giant hole filled with water.

Once again his chin dropped to the floor, his eyes wide. Swimming wasn't the strong point for someone who didn't use their back legs, and Ivar knew he would drown if he tried to get in. But he sat content at the entrance watching Curse jump in after stripping of almost all his clothes. With a slight shake of his head, he turned away, cheeks burning red beneath the blood staining his face. In that moment, it made him happy knowing the mask was there to hide the way he felt. Assuming most would enjoy the water was wrong, and yet Ivar wanted to crawl away, to pretend that none of this ever existed. Water was dangerous, but somehow Curse enjoyed it. It made him feel alive.

Ivar retrieved the clutch, and handed it to him - "I want to show you something."

The young Hammerfell watched, eyes not wavering once, as Curse began drawing. It wasn't something Ivar was used to seeing, and knowing that the world was filled with monsters trying to kill. But this right now showed him a new life, a chance of being someone he never dreamed of. It was a world he didn't think existed. Once Curse finished, he described his creation as a trident. Ivar had seen one before, but never realized just how amazing it truly was, or how it even felt. A spear was an amazing weapon, but it didn't compare to Ivar's weapon of choice. An axe was what he longed for, and maybe he could draw his favorite.

"Spears are amazing weapons, and that looks potentially more deadly." He stated with a nod of his head before removing a crayon of his own. "But I prefer to use this."

Lifting the tiny aquamarine crayon into the air, he pressed it against a wall. Ivar wasn't very artistic, but he remembered his time in the training center. Trying to disappear from the world and become one with the floor and wall. Only then was about alternating patterns. This time was different. Drawing a straight handle was difficult, many times it went off to the side making it crooked, but it didn't stop him from trying. One stroke after another, he reached to where the blade would become. Making a notch, Ivar tried to mimic his favorite axe back in district two. Curling it around from the top until it reached the handle once more. A slight grin twisted across his face - "This is similiar to the axe I used in two when training. Not everyone's weapon of choice, but I enjoy using it."

A heavy sigh left his chest.

"All he wanted was to bury his friend, and I stole that from him."

Downcast eyes darted across the pool trying to find something further around. He wanted to have fun, but the fear of drowning was kicking in.

"Can you help me to the other side of this?" He asked trying to figure out a way to change it all around, to get the devil off his back for just the time being. "Maybe we'll find something useful."

credit to lance

Ivar grabs a robe
Ivar attempts to draw a battle axe

[Deleted]

Curse Jinx

[newclass=.jorggradient1]text-align:justify; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #4e4828, #5c312a, #302b2f, #7b8086, #444d6c);linear-gradient(top, #4e4828, #5c312a, #302b2f, #7b8086, #444d6c); -webkit-background-clip:text; color:transparent;[/newclass][attr="class","jorggradient1"] It is nice to see Ivar smile a bit, to see something more than the blank, emotionless face he likes to project. Even if it is only temporary, I’m glad I could brighten his day for just a single moment. He comments about how spears could be deadly weapons, but then goes on to draw what he likes to use. Ivar isn’t very artistic as he attempts to draw a straight line. He gets the message across though, as I can clearly tell that it is an axe, and it looks like it could be a big one at that. He talks about how he enjoys it, even though it’s not everyone’s first choice. And I can understand, everyone who trains to fight has their own preferred style. I’m not sure what mine is yet, I just know that it is easy for me to use a trident as it is what I’ve grown up using. Instead of fish, I’m just stabbing another human being, as horrendous as that sounds.

I can see Ivar downcast his gaze after I ask my question, and he brings back Lorenzo. It sounds like he could relate to him when he brings up the fact that Lorenzo only wanted to bury his friend. A luxury I have been lucky to afford. Even in these past few years have when my classmates Mordecai and Scout died. I never really considered myself close with them, so I didn’t feel the pain that others felt at their burial. Yet Ivar has had so see many of his own go back into the earth. Ivar just last year had to bury Torka, and many more years before that. This is something that I know I can never relate to Ivar on, and it pains me knowing that there may not be much I can do to help him. My gaze drops down from his face, unsure of what to do in this situation, unsure on how we would react to certains words. As much as my own family has been trained and groomed to chase glory, none of us has actually done it before. No one until me. Yet I have seen many Hammerfells go chasing glory in death, welcoming the feeling of being reaped, or sometimes volunteering for the Games when they felt ready. I know that there is nothing that I can do, but only be there in any capacity that he needs me to be in.

“I’m sorry,” is my only response, my voice full with sorrow. I hope that he will understand where I am coming from, and I hope I have said the right things for him to understand that I am only trying to console him. We sit there for a moment, just sitting in this feeling of uncomfortableness. No one ever said that this would be fun. He is the first to break the silence by asking me if I could help him across the pool, hoping to find something useful. A glint forms within my eyes, knowing that I can turn this situation into something more, playful if I wanted to. And even though I have thought about this before, it was definitely not within the context of trying to help the poor bastard swim. Plus it would be a good excuse to get all of the blood off of his hands.

“Yeah I can help you out, are comfortable with just wearing shorts or would you rather keep your clothes on?” I ask him, not wanting him to make him uncomfortable. When he states that he would like to keep his clothes on, I have him crawl on over to the edge of the pool, and I help to carry him in. I put one underneath his chest, and my other goes directly below his hips, I help keep him afloat the best I can, even though his heavy, blood soaked clothes weighs him down a good bit. It would definitely be easier if he was just wearing shorts. I still feel the muscles of his chest underneath his sweater as I have practice a breast stroke. His arms brush against mine as he does his strokes, I can feel them flexing against mine, and I am very grateful that he can't turn his head to see how red my face is right now. Once he has the hang of it, we start to move across the pool, I am still carrying his thighs and he does a decent job of keeping his torso afloat, I still can't help but notice the muscles along his torso. I let my hand float down, feeling the strength of his abdomen as he continues his strokes, ensuring that he doesn’t need help keeping himself afloat.

I bring my hand back up to his chest as we get closer to the edge, my legs kicking to keep myself afloat. Once we get to the edge I left him up, helping Ivar get back onto the decently dry walkway. He is soaking wet, trying to crawl around in damp, heavy clothing, and we don’t have any towels near by. Why didn’t I think that through. I lean against the edge, wiping off the remainder of blood from his face.

“There you go, now you’re all cleaned up.” I try to crack a joke as a crooked, timid grin plays across my lips as I chuckle. I am still trying to think on how we are going get dry, then I remember the bathrobes that had found.

“I’ll be right back I have to go grab our stuff., take a look around and see if you find anything ok?” I don’t fully wait for a response as I start on my way back. Even though we were the only two in the pool, I’m not sure if anyone else had made their way into the area. I come back to find an axe, and a trident sitting the rest of our gear. They look very similar to the ones that we drew as well. I am very confused as to where they came from, but I manage to fit everything into our bags, while I strap on the axe and trident onto my back and make my way back. I end up finding Ivar again, and I manage to keep almost everything decently dry, if not a little damp as I put everything onto the walkway.

“Did you find anything useful?” I ask him as I slighty poke his tummy with the hilt of his axe.

[Knuckles]

i v a r   h a m m e r f e l l
now the dark begins to rise
save your breath, it's far from over
leave the lost and dead behind
now's your chance to run for cover

For a moment, his question lingered in the air bouncing from one wall to the other. Drawing was just a reminder of being home, and while he yearned for the chance to return home alive, Ivar knew this was only the beginning. Ending the life of Lorenzo was just the beginning. Yeah, he didn't want it to happen at the moment, but someone else would've killed him later. Ivar was only saving him the time and agony of living inside the arena. But for what? It didn't make sense, and yet he kept going on and on leaving a trail of blood behind him. The tiny crayon fell from his hand landing on the ground. Drawing was pointless especially living inside a place where innocents didn't matter.

Curse responded with two words Ivar rarely understood. Why apologize for something that wasn't his fault? Unless a judge stood before the guilty party it didn't matter. The other Hammerfells chose their fates except Mason, but Ivar knew Mason would've ran forward if he had the chance.

The tiny grin grew larger when Curse said he'd help him across, yet the question of stripping down was one he didn't want to answer. Why take off his clothes? Was that what he was supposed to do before getting inside a pool? It wasn't something he had seen before, and yet he wanted to explore, he wanted to feel alive for the first time in his entire life. "I would prefer to keep my clothing on."

Sliding over towards the ledge, Ivar dipped his hands into the water. It was like a giant tub with water waiting to draw him in. Perhaps he could live, maybe he could survive with the help of a friend. Curse helped him get inside the pool doing the best to keep the crippled teen afloat. Blood soaked clothing weighed him down, and Ivar watched as the water slowly turned a shade of red. With assistance, Ivar learned to move his arms in the proper position to keep himself moving forward, and he tried to get his legs to move, but they just wouldn't work. Nothing surprised him anymore because they had been broken for most of his life.

Together they moved across the pool.

A large grin spread from ear to ear. It was the first time Ivar had felt anything close to swimming. Water damped his shaggy hair, it streaked through the blood crusted against his face. It was an exhilarating experience, and Ivar couldn't find the words to describe what had just happened. Living and dying was part of his life, and now he knew he could survive. A giant tub wouldn't hurt him, and now he had the chance to keep going, the chance to press further. Living life to the fullest meant the entire world, and now he understood. People had to die every single day for others to survive.

A shaky hand gripped the edge of the pool pulling himself out, clothes dripping wet, Ivar knew he wouldn't move nearly as fast as he wanted to, and yet it didn't matter. Curse wiped the rest of the blood away, and now the crippled teen was clean. It was a new experience, and it was something he enjoyed, something he liked. A brand new style.

"Good." He muttered with a half smile, "Better be clean just to get filthy again."

While Curse grabbed their belongings, Ivar slid through the pool, eyes darting in every direction looking for a prize. Anything he could possibly grab. But nothing caught his attention.The surface was smooth beneath his hands, and sometime he would have to make it back to the other side. Back to the door to escape the mansion the Capitol threw him in.

The words startled him for only a second, and as he turned around he saw Curse carrying pictures of what they had drew - very interesting.

"No, just the smooth floor. Perhaps only the robes were here." He sighed halfheartedly, "Maybe we should go before someone else finds this place. Never know who's going to show."

credit to lance

[Arrows]

Lightning O'Hana

Dark and deadly it weighs upon my chest heavier than any mortal metal. If there is a way to breathe beneath the deepest depths of devastation than I am lost upon its knowledge. Beneath the warped waves I am floating within the fields of furious dark, wandering among eternal emptiness. Pooling in my palms the warm of the wickedest red reminds me of the deadliest deeds done beneath this surface of sin. Compared to such causality my hands shimmer as though sun and kissed by light. Compared to such causality I am white winged sailing through seas of silken sky among angels. Cursed is the creator of such causality. Cursed is my sister. Cursed is her kind. Is there such a cure for the most sadistic of Satan's sins? I fall through the fields of my vision, my eyes watching wearily the wretched world before us.

Steps stream from my sister behind me yet I do not dare to dilute the silence with shouts or screams. A hall of the most hideous harrowing harbors our sinking souls shackled to my sister's sin. Yet within my own battering beating heart I heave myself forward with the knowledge of knowing more red rivers soon will surround us. We walk a murder's march. Upon our shoulders we shall uphold the wealth of the world’s wickedness. Shackled to our shins we shall pull the pain of the lowest existence. We will become the worst kind of warriors.

Chemical chlorine cringes my nose as salty water stings my eyes. My tear ducts torture my cheeks with the culling of cursed waters. Even the translucency of my tears are tainted not by the tortures of the sorrowful saint but by the terrors of my thoughts. The turbulence which quakes within the source of my spirit spins me through every shadow which shades me. As tears trickle from the chambers of their creation stutter in my steps. A wall meets my despising down fall. She stops by my side. I can't even bring myself to lift my gaze from their glancing at the floor. My words are mangled and monstrous as they lowly slip through my lips. 

“No! Don't comfort me! Don't come any closer… I… just need to breathe. I need to breathe… just breathe.” Silence succumbs the space between us.

Time ticks on some unforeseen clock and reality recedes from its rapture. I regain my control and continue walking towards the chlorine clinging to the walls. Internally an inferno obliterates my senses of sorrow and sin. I walk without purpose while hate for myself pulsates painfully with every battered beat of my heart. I cannot even force myself to possess the strength to stare my sister in the eyes. With death dwelling on her uncleanable hands I have only slammed a door for them to scratch upon. I have locked her out in a storm summoned not by her sentence of sacrifice but by my own. I brought my sister to the blood building on her skin.

A long low creak christens the air as I force myself through the door to a dream built pool. Lights loiter within it's lovely waters and my hands happily hold its contents. A smile spurs across my skin while I feel the war washing away within the water. I spot reflections and ice invades my veins while I watch the same boys we just battled. The will for war hides within me as I walk myself and chaos to separate chamber. I couldn't bare another blood brewing battle cursing Chaos again.

Once in the safety of the separate space my fingers fiddle with the crayons. Eventually I find myself drawing intricately on the nearest surface. Line after line lingers from my marks until the shapes of a trident and a water bottle gleam beneath the dim lights of the chamber. Nearby I notice Chaos doing the same but I do not speak. All I do is breathe, it's all I can do anymore.

Lightning uses both his crayons to draw a trident(spear) and a water bottle

Lightning takes a bathrobe
OOC: Table will be added in a bit

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

Two Bodies : One Heart

Chaos

O'Hana

    Silence fumes the oxygen, as if a lethal poison was released to the survivors. Anger radiates from the Brother who used to love me unconditionally so, as if witnessing my brutality potential has kissed away that very love… perhaps it has. Gentle steps echo behind him from my own feet, as if walking on egg shells that shelter his heart - one vigorous footprint may shatter our sibling bond further. There’s a desperate urge to speak, to raise my voice of overwhelming confusion and frustration. But still it’s purely un-peaceful quiet that bites at our fencing connection.

A sturdy wall, of a mangled allusion, captures Lightning’s depletion; while my heart collapses with him, with no such support to assist it. Instinctively I’m retrieving to his side, solely to be barked away by his distaste in my comfort. Closeness is the last of what he craves. A distant breath is his only request. Before the reaping it was my own very arms that reassured his ability to breathe, when he felt as though he was suffocating. Now he’s disgusted by my murderous hands, that are still tainted by red.

Another reckless desire to scream is held back. I warned him of my promise! He should have known I’d protect him to any length! Did he truly believe he’d overtake a Game without blood staining any of our fingers? How dare he be appalled by my determination to further him to the victory! And to just think so many more deaths must succumb. But with no yearning to increase his hatred upon me, I patiently wait a couple yards away. Will he despise me past my own final breath? Will no one bury me with the recollection that my sole purpose in life was to protect the O’Hanas? Perhaps only hatred will carry the dirt upon my grave.

Feet eventually continue onward, and numbness contorts all of my senses. It’s not until a door is breached, and water glistens against my irises, that I realize we’ve ventured into a pause for satisfaction. Finally the scent of the liquid dances within my nostrils, sadistically crafting a grin against my cheeks. A distraction from the turmoil of the Arena has actually gifted itself upon us savage Youths.

“Never know who’s going to show.” A familiar voice rings within my ears. This is when I realize, we’re not alone here. The other two survivors from our previous battle have already claimed this territory. Death is tattooed upon both Ivar’s & I’s palms. But if we could retract from advancing the slaughter then, maybe we can all share the break from destruction now?

“It would be a shame if someone interrupted us.” I call from the other side of the room, dedicated in remaining humorous. Unknown hostility seems to strive across my Brother, while I will not allow anything but comedy to reign me in my final days. “Mind if we join you boys?” I rhetorically wonder, as we won’t be leaving unless a battle we’re not hungry for erupts. After all of the sorrowful shed of today, it doesn’t seem we’ll have much to worry about with these two. Other’s though? More the merrier when it comes to a brawl.

The water rattles around me, as I dive straight into the pool. An increase upon our company doesn’t ignite in the slightest, not wanting to concern them over an unintentional, unwanted physical altercation. Instead I simply engulf myself within the pool, steadying within our side of it. Amongst the liquid is a sensation of clearness. Within these depths is a simple need to hold my breath, which I maintain for quite some time. At this moment there’s no cruelty of a death match, but only a washing of the past one.

A minute or two passes before I allow myself to break to the surface. Rewarding oxygen inflates my lungs, Lightning graces my peripheral view, and I’m reminded that we’re at least still alive. He may be angered by me, but a canon has not sung the ending of either of us. For a moment I simply float, observing my Brother as he illustrates with the Crayons that pose no use yet. What must he be doing?

Curiosity swims me over to him, where I discover him sketching future necessities. It may be just hope creating for our vision, or a call for sponsors to see what we’re longing for… and I might as well join him. At first I use my black crayon, and begin mimicking his depiction of a water bottle. Lines and curves scratch against my makeshift canvas: the base of the container, the delicate curve of it’s body, the brim of it’s mouth- that’s when I realize it’s slight square shape, a hybrid interpretation of a water bottle and a flask. It’s evident where my mind is unconsciously wandering off to.

A chuckle seeps from my lips, along with a subtle shake of my head. Another crayon is secured within my grip- one of a violet blue aroma, as I avoid the crayons I scavenged from my kill. More marks begin littering the room. The handle designed with focused strives, my vision flickering back to the numerous swords that occupied Four’s training facilities. All the blades appeared awfully similar, while it was the handles of them that set each type apart. My creation copies not exactly any of them, but the certain attraction of each. One with a firm grip, and define swirls of a captivating pattern. A lengthy blade draws from it’s top- thin on both sides to ensure a razored greeting from either direction, and a pointy tip to imagine a gruesome final blow.

“I’m gonna go for a swim again.” I say in a rash tone to Lightning, accepting that I’m devastated with him being upset at me. So much more wants to seep out, such as ‘let me know when you forgive me for following my promise,’ but of course more words are held back. The water envelopes me once again- uncaring of the risks that may threaten me in this submerge. Lightning can defend himself while on guard. And I killed someone, perhaps I don’t deserve to live much longer.

{Chaos draws a Water Jug with Black Crayon}
{Chaos draws a Sword with Violet-Blue Crayon}
{Chaos takes a Bathrobe}