let me bleed until the blackened afternoon [Day 5; J vs R]

[Tom]

Everything feels like an illusion.

There's nothing, but sorrows that can be tasted upon the tip of his tongue. If only he could have been stronger. If only he could have been quicker. If only he could have been smarter. Then Anarchy Brice might still be alive. Reality seems to cocoon itself into fantasy and he's stuck between both of the worlds. There's not one breath of air that he questions if it's real or fake. He's sore from the wounds that lick his body with dried blood. Blue jean shorts turn to red from the cut on his thigh that was now sewn shut. There's not a moment where he questions why he's still alive in the arena with all of his limbs. All he can do is breath what fantasy and reality that there is. Everything was an illusion until he begins to bleed.

That's when he breaks the illusion with reality.

The king of fools had learned what the difference between a god and a king. Pathetic kings tried believing they had become gods to control their power, but even the strongest of kings die. The sky shines above him with the faces of that dead from the day before. Anarchy Brice would appear like a blemish upon a perfect record. There's no angels within the arena anymore. All of the wings had burned up and crumbled to dust. That's when the first face appears. A gasp escapes from his throat and Riordan wants to dare a scream of both joy and disappointment.

Atlas Lumiere was dead.

The great king slain.

That had been the cannon that fired through his ears before Anarchy.

It smacks him like the rejected dreams that pop into his mind. Atlas Lumiere was everything Riordan wanted to become. Strong, smart, and fast. The thought of the person who must have killed Atlas Lumiere sends a shiver down his spine. Someone was stronger than the king who sent his bones on fire while he burned to the point of exhaustion. The weak survive and the strong die. The weak scramble like the bugs that come forth from the ground, weak alone, but strong in numbers. Overwhelmed was one of the options that could have taken Atlas Lumiere out, but there was no way of truly knowing. All that he knew was that another kiss had vanished before his eyes.

A kiss that was so deadly that whoever touched it died.

Lucas O'Hara was the last one alive that he's kissed.

There's nothing that he can do to protect them. All good things wilt like the roses Riordan leaves behind for the dead.

The last rose shines across the sky.

Thorns stab into his gut as the regrets he has come forward in the sky. Anarchy Brice looks like an angel that he had failed so easily. There's nothing he can do except gulp down what little air he has in his throat. Wings burst to flight and he feels his own heart fly back to the moment. The shark's teeth pushing through Anarchy Brice's eye. The skull that still was upon her head that he put on for her. A way to put his mind at peace for only a moment, until everything comes crashing down like a waterfall. All he wants to do is cocoon himself up and never come out to face the truth. Every death becomes easier upon his skin. Scars, wounds, bruises, kisses, and touches litter his mind. A tingling of the spots that the dead have touched comes to life. Every spot threatening to send him under the water. The rose that had taken the last one's place upon his palm is orange. The color of the sunset that he dreams of going home to.

Reality and fantasy clash unto the restlessness disappears from his body.

The illusions breaking for the fields of red and purple and the large building of joy that carries every good thing.

There's no reaching it.

A mountain pulls it to the heavens where he can never reach it.

A punishment to his dream self.

The illusion shatters.

The day begins with petals that push them away.

A scream at his allies to get moving.

"We need to get out of here!"

Feet plant against the ground as allies race to somewhere new. The storm of petals dance along behind them as they race to the next place where they will fend for their life. Monsters or people, there was no difference. Only evil lies within the walls of their fantasies. Reality and fantasy clashing with a storm of petals. Iris runs with him as the petal on his hand brushes the sides of his legs. A small hand pushing him forward like it had been guiding him to somewhere safe. Somewhere where he can reach the summit and see the sunrise onto morning. The tiny wave still imprinted upon his mind, never vanishing. Heart already shattered at the thoughts of the young Eckhart that he couldn't help.

They reach the land where sky and earth becomes one. A tango of confusion where up is down and down is up. Almost as bad as the mansion that he's avoided since day one. The ground below is only sand from what he can see and feel of it, but water seems to take form. All he's afraid of is that he'll fall into nothingness. Never to come back to the world that he original resided in. The rose upon his palm blooms as he almost breaks from fear. There's nowhere to go but forward. Nothing, but lost illusions as he swears he can see himself in the sky below, but illusions were meant to make man go mad. Delusions or illusions, he couldn't tell.

Words echo from his throat.

"Cassie and Kid, I think I'm lost."

Lost or found, he was still crazier than he used to be. The king of fools who drowns under the waves of grief, until he's swallowed whole. Each crack upon his skin breaks a piece of the glass that holds him together. Feet step in the sand, he can feel it moving with every step as he feels the small hand guiding him somewhere new. Somewhere that pain and sorrow can be contained. There's nothing more than reality and fantasy firing a ceasefire as he can't tell where they had come or gone. The storm of petals that danced behind them was gone and he wasn't happy about it. Others would have been displaced by the same storm, unless it was a punishment only by the gods for Riordan killing the shark and the fluffy eraser.

Sky meets earth.

Tributes meet tributes.

Eyes catch the other group of three instantly. There's nowhere to hide. There's nothing more than clear sky and clear earth. There's nothing and everything in this place. Elettra is the first one he spots. A frown pulls upon his face as he holds the baseball bat with barbed wire coming out of it threateningly. Iris was no longer with them. Neither was the holy man that was from nine. Cal's killer stands there looking high and mighty like before. Anger threatens to push him forward, but he speaks first. The third one was someone he didn't know. Only a name of Castor could come to his mind. Words flow from his lips at his district partner.

"We're the last ones Elettra. You let Iris die. Have you become the monster you feared to become?"

The frown upon his face stays put. Heart beats for the Eckhart as she is all he has left of home. The opera house that held him sturdy was crumbling, just like the Eckharts that he had once known. Stone statues of them crumbling to dust just like his sanity. Every day, he loses more and more of himself to the ever growing irrationality. All he needed was to see her. All he needed was to see Elettra alive and not dead. If he lost the last piece of home, he would break. Shatter into nothing like Anarchy Brice. The gods would be pleased with that.

Death in a fantasy world only to feel the reality of everything he had done.

"Too bad, I've become the monster I feared of becoming."

Eyes focus back to Eszter Summit.

The death of Callixtus still haunts his mind, reminding him of someone he couldn't protect. Someone he failed because he wasn't strong enough to save them. Things were different now. Everything was different than the three days before. Vengeance comes to his mind as he stares at her for a second. The words had only taken a second to come out. Everything felt like it was going on for years, but in reality, it was only seconds. Time seemed to disappear from him, just like reality and fantasy. Stuck in the middle of both created the Riordan Einfallen who stands before them. Feet tap the ground as he swings the baseball bat at Eszter Summit. Voice screams out at her.

"This one is for Callixtus Shim."

There are no more illusions.

Angels fall to the earth.

Gods punish the weak.

All kings fall, no matter how strong.

Riordan Einfallen had become the monster that he feared for so long.

Eszter Summit must die.

(Riordan Einfallen attacks Eszter Summit with Spiked Blunt)
HswYuQfsspiked blunt
(block)

accuracy time

spiked blunt
(results)spiked blunt�spiked blunt

[ghosty]

ELETTRA ECKHART

We left the mansion behind us as soon as possible; it reminded me of a prison, inside of the giant one that is the arena. Castor and Eszter-- seven in general, lets be honest- weren't happy with inside, used to the trees of their home, with freedom more implied than the building that towered above us. Glimpsing behind, I see the windows glinting in the evening sun morphing into nighttime darkness, and it's a fire burning in the sky.

It's like how my heart used to burn when I saw each of my sisters walk away and hoped that they came back; hint:

{ they never did.}

It's just me now, and two albeit strangers; I only know them from the events that unfolded over the past days. Held together with the feeling of loss. Castor saw Elva fall and cannon fire filling into the rhythm, syncopated that was the first day. She saw the fourth crack form on my heart, she saw me break once more- she saw my reflection fall.

Night time rolled over the three of us, and we sat in the darkness, silence filled the gaps that were between us. Eyelids rolled over the weary eyes; I plunged into the darkness that I feared, of sleep. I was interrupted before I was greeted by it's plunging pain; "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about your sister." Castor turned towards me, my eyes jolting open. She saw her fall, she saw a death in front of her.

But she did not come in alone, and I cannot be that heartless. "And for your brother. I remember seeing you both in training." Training -- how far away that seems to me now, and I just want to go back to those times and cherish those times, Iris and Elva huddled together in the room, with me slotted between them: we always belonged together, unnatural apart.

"He wasn't even supposed to be here." My eyes locked at her face; disappointment mirrored my own. "That was what I thought, for my sisters and myself." I guess, and I suppose that I was wrong: she said sorry and I didn't understand it and now she's the one with the heart asleep while mine beats for itself.

"Do you know why she volunteered?" The word, that is forever ingrained into my head; as long as I live, the shout will echo in my throat: it was a promise to the death, and I broke it before I even could weigh upon it. I let her die.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Your brother?" The answer I barely needed to ask to know; twins are reflections, and those always come in pairs.

"He never leaves my side. I should've known that when I volunteered. I feel responsible..." It sounds a familiar thought, a promise of us never being apart when we opened up that chest in her room back home, glinting metal of two six-shooter guns and paper of hidden truths. She thought she could walk off alone: "I don't know why my sister thought the same... and now she's dead and I'm not."

She was clearly wrong, and I paid dearly for that mistake, sitting in the darkness with two strangers, not warm fingers interlocked that I know better than my own, a heart not entirely broken in my chest.

"What's keeping you alive?" And that, that is a question that I've never stopped asking myself. I'm not a fighter, and I never will be, no matter what they throw at me. "Nothing other than luck is what it seems. I guess I should ask you the same thing." To stay alive in this mess, that is nothing other than luck, the fall of a sword on skin, on limbs. "I don't know. I guess knowing Jano would want me to live."

Silence fills the space between us, and for once, I do not feel between strangers; I felt between people that understand me. "Yeah, dying always seemed the easier path to take. At least they aren'-- is that a storm?" The spinning air in front of me, the color of blood, slowly drying on the artist canvas; it incites violence and fear. I scramble up onto my feat; it feels like in every moment that I'm never going to stop running.

It feels like an age since I've never run away from something that threatens, and when we slow, the ground beneath a sand, we aren't alone any more. Familiar forms fill the ground in front of us, and the breath that I held hitched into my throat; familiarity is a curse and a blessing.

My one link to home, the only one that I want to remember, that isn't dressed in nightmares, or the dreams of sister's falling into a sleep that they won't wake. Saying goodbye to the ones that I held close. And he wore a crown, the one that no doubt belonged on Jeq; she was stolen from all of us, the crown lied broken on the ground.

Rio, he was my king.

And Rio, he talks to me and me alone; we could be alone like we were in that broken palace that he and Jeq were the rulers of, the palace where she became a legend. Where he became a king below our eyes while Eckharts fell from stone pillars built up. When we all became broken in heart and in soul.

"Have I become the monster? I doubt that's something that was ever questioned Rio." It happened the moment that Elva fell from my side, the moment that Iris tripped and fell into those chasing nightmares, legs like buildings in height, twigs in shape.

"Rio, please don't hate me," urgency low, needing. I can't lose my only jigsaw piece that reminded me of home in this place of foreign puzzles and fantasy too magic, too paranormal to be natural and fair. Heart-led nightmares is all that this place holds for me, home calling. Rio, he is my only link to home.

"Do you trust yourself to get home, Rio? You belong back in your palace of a theater."

The scythe whistled as it flew through the air.

[elettra attacks sage, scythe]
fpJKkS6rglaive

[day 5 accuracy reroll]
glaive
[13064 -- Shallow Cut on Neck -- 4.0 damage]

glaive�glaive

[ali]

Heaven if you sent us down
So we could build a playground
For the sinners to play as saints
You'd be so proud of what we've made

Night washed the world in inky darkness, a toothless grinning moon hanging above the darkened fish filled sky, looking down at the sleeping arena. In the orchard, paired with the silver moonlight, daytime never seemed to cease; opalic light cast long, demented shadows across the lilac grass.

Back pressed against the earth, Cassiopeia Shaw watched the distant night with an impatient stare. Her clothes still reeked of smoke and blood, cutting sharply through her senses of sight, sound, smell and hearing. It would have rendered her blind if she had not washed her clothes and arms tentatively in one of the silver puddles, still, the scent was almost overwhelming and she struggled to close her eyes for the briefest of seconds without seeing Anarchy Brice dead before her.

At least she did not have to smell the lingering perfume of the Grim Reaper.

A frown pressed against her face, painfully what was left of her eyebrows tilted downwards as she thought back to the girl who she’d barely talked too but, still, felt the urge to scream for her loss. It felt as if someone had yet again reached into her chest and clamped a clawed hand around her beating, cold heart and attempted to tear it out of her, she had felt the same when Callixtus had died. It was painful to think about her allies, she believed what she was experiencing was something that they called grief, not something they had taught in training, a foreign language thrust upon Cassiopeia long before the girl from seven planted that final strike against Callixtus’s skin.

For her heart ached most when she thought of her cousin.

Astrid Shaw. An ghost of the family, rarely spoken of and even more so, rarely seen. Her parents kept her locked- for the most part- behind their wrought iron fence, only bringing her out when they saw fit. Or her pills did anyway. She was nothing more than her Aunt’s doll to play around with, they had waited too long to conceive again and when Astrid had come out broken, she had been shunned by everyone. Including Cassiopeia. They had met once or twice as children, rarely after that, and Cassia had been nothing but a cruel brat to her. Even in memory, she talked of her as if she were nothing at all, something to be forgotten and to be ashamed of.

Except, now she was stood in the same shoes Astrid had been, Cassiopeia saw the world for what it was. Astrid Shaw had not come to the Arena broken- she was never broken at all.

Tears stung her eyes as panem’s anthem called for silence across the arena, and as Cassia watched she could not help but half expect Astrid’s childike smile to appear there among the shoals of fish. “..she would have liked this arena…” Cassioepia said, to no one in particular. “Astrid..” she confirmed, for herself more than anyone. Astrid would have fitted right in at home here, she thought. Astrid Shaw would not have been out of place among the weird and wonderful aspects of this arena

The first face, however, takes her more by surprise than Astrid’s would have. “What the fuck” the words his out of her mouth as she stares, mouth agape to the face of Atlas Lumiere, the boy from 1. Out of all those in the arena, Cassiopeia Shaw would have never expected the Lumiere boy to appear among the dead; he had gotten a 9 in his private training session and while she knew that a good score did not mean he would go far, she had thought from watching him closely in the training centre that- Cassia shook her head. It did not matter what she thought of Atlas’ Lumiere now, he was gone, dead and she was still here.

She watches the other faces, both full of history and those nameless to her appear and fade from existence like fragile ghosts caught in a summer breeze. She counts how many are dead today- pauses- then counts again; her mind is whirling, from shock of today and those of the faces in the sky and she can’t quite pinpoint whether her calculation is right or not.

“...there are only 18 of us left…” she says, staring at the sky as the light from the anthem finally fades away.

That night, she dreams of Astrid Shaw’s face on the deer and the sound of cannon fire as Anarchy Brice falls to the earth but when Cassia turns, Anarchy’s body is gone and it is her own that is lying there as the world ignites around her. Suddenly she is trapped in the body, dead and still on the ground and she finds that she cannot do. She tries to scream at the top of her lungs, fire engulfing her like the light of a thousand suns and then-

"We need to get out of here!" Riordan’s voice pulls her from the grasp of the nightmare she had found herself in, only to wake into yet another.

Petals flutter like butterflies all around them, a swirl of red and white, the rush of air drives them from the Orchard as fast as their feet can carry them. Despite what she had gone through, Cassie still manages to sprint ahead of her allies, feet planting against the pale earth as they leave the orchard behind. Inhaling, a small smile graces her lips as she runs and for a moment, she forgets she is in the Arena, she is home where she has the choice to run. Here, she has none and the choice to not stop is taken from her soon enough too.

She stops dead in her tracks, her allies in pursuit, as her gaze falls on a familiar face that makes her blood boil. The Summit girl stands, not alone but with allies, right before her. The girl who had killed Callixtus Shim in the Orchard on the second day; her smile turn into a snarl, a monstrous one pressed against her scarred face. “You.” she spits, gripping her red bat with spikes on it. She moves forward, dragging her weapon through the shallow water, slowly. “Sleeping well Summit? Boy I really I hope your not, cause I ain’t killed anyone and I haven’t slept a wink. Can you tell I’ve been losing out on my beauty sleep.” All the humour that should have accompanied her voice is lost, her hoarse thin voice cuts through the silence before the battle begins.

“You killed my friend.” She grits her teeth and raises her weapon “Now you have to pay.”

[Cassiopiea Shaw attack Eszter Summitt]
U41vC9W1spiked blunt
[attack result]

Cassiopia Shaw

District 2 Tribute

spiked blunt

[Python]

With two new companions at her side, Castor abandoned the mansion and its phantoms. The memory of her brother’s death remained fresh and bleeding like a wound, poorly mended by stitches. It was something that could not be healed. Piece by piece the world was claiming her, first her vision and now her happiness. Even with new company, she could not find new purpose. But she had new direction, and that was something she could grasp onto. Grass faded to white, another colorless void that matched the clouds above their heads. She didn’t know where they were going, but her blood was flowing again. She could survive. She had the energy for a little bit of hope.

How long it would take to fade, she wasn’t sure, but she counted on the world to smother it. Sooner or later, it always did.

They settled far away from the herds of mutts. Night engulfed the world, and with it came the realization that Eszter was her final connection to home. She wondered why the girl had volunteered, and what her purpose was. It kept her headstrong, whatever it was. Her unlikely partner was the twin Elettra, a familiar face from day one. She still remembered the horror of her sister's death; a flash forward into the future, when her own twin would meet a similar fate. Did Elettra feel the same devastation? How is she alive?

She wanted to know everything but nothing at all. It was better to keep the bubbling feelings repressed, but she spoke up. She felt she had to. ”For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your sister,” she said.

Killed by one of her other connections to home – Raven. She had faded like the others. Anybody could kill, and anybody could die.

Elettra replied. “And for your brother. I remember seeing you both in training."

Happy memories. Even under stress, they could seek amusement and smiles among tributes who plotted to murder them. They honed their survival skills, promising to stick together until the inevitable bitter end. She never expected it to be him first.

”He wasn’t even supposed to be here.”

It’s my fault.

She closed her eyes, swallowing a wave of guilt. The past was the past, but she would sacrifice ten lives to change it. She couldn’t help but blame herself over and over again; a broken record of regret.

”That was what I thought, for my sisters and myself.”

She opened her eyes and perked her head up. Curiosity struck her this time. ”Do you know why she volunteered?”

”Your guess is as good as mine,” she said, ”Your brother?”

She couldn’t call him a fool for following his instinct, but she wished he had stayed put. ”He never leaves my side. I should’ve known that when I volunteered.” She thought she could solve her own problems, as usual, and it had backfired. Harder than she could’ve ever imagined.

You’re the fool, Castor.

”I feel responsible..”

”I don't know why my sister thought the same... and now she's dead and I'm not."

But why? How could one live without the other? She felt empty, and she knew if she survived there was nothing to return to. Nothing but ashes.

”What’s keeping you alive?”

She had to know.

”Nothing other than luck is what it seems. I guess I should ask you the same thing."

She didn’t know whether to feel disappointed in the answer. What had she expected? A solution to her problems? For a stranger to tell her exactly why she should continue to exist?

She pondered it, and she knew the reason. It wasn’t a strong reason, but it was enough to keep this spear from entering her own heart.

” I don't know. I guess knowing Jano would want me to live."

A sudden gust of wind whipped through her hair, but she pulled it back. Elettra spoke up again. "Yeah, dying always seemed the easier path to take. At least they aren'-- is that a storm?”

She turned to look over her shoulder, and her stomach dropped. A whirlwind of crimson rose petals crawled its way toward them. It resembled the swarm of butterflies that had devastated her friends only a day ago. She had one instinct:

Run.

They didn’t stop until they passed the mansion and its gardens again. Grass gave way to white once again, but this time it was the familiar sensation of salt grains beneath her bare feet. When the storm halted, so did she.

But three figures in front of them did not.

She didn’t know the conflicts in their past. It seemed Eszter had killed one of their own, and they sought vengeance. She empathized with their anger, but she had a duty. She would not betray their home today.

As Eszter evaded their onslaught, she brandished her spear and stepped forward. ”Your friend volunteered for this,” she said, thinking of herself. What was her reasoning? To die. And nobody should be angry about it.

”It’s not Eszter’s fault.”

Don’t hide the real reason why you’re killing her.

[ table: rave ]

[attacks sage - spear]
pXZF4Icxspear
Shallow Cut on Back -- 4.0 damage

spear

[gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕]

E S Z T E R

This is growing old.

Day in and day out, the same exact thing. Walk, fight, try not to die, repeat. I still don't know what I want. There's a part of me that thinks there's something worth living for, and another that wants to finally be at peace.

But after this, will I ever be able to rest?

My mind is moving faster than my feet, but it doesn't take me long to realize that we've left the mansion. I feel relieved, something about that place makes me feel trapped, like I have no where to run, and sometimes that seems to be the only thing I know how to do sometimes.

Two girls walk by my side, as we travel through the arena, looking for somewhere to be safe. Or, as safe as you can get here. I never thought that I'd have people with me. People that I possibly wouldn't want to see dead. People who I feel like I need to save, especially if I am not able to save myself.

We finally settle for the night, and I make myself as comfortable as I possibly can on the cold ground. The anthem plays and my mouth drops open and the little breath I have in my lungs is taken from me when Helios's face appears in the sky. I had left him, I could have sworn he'd be okay, but the dumb ass has gone and gotten himself killed. It must have been the boy I last saw him kissing. Umm, what's his face? The boy from nine. I make a silent promise to myself to kill him myself.

I can't let anyone else have the satisfaction.

I turn my back to the other girls, without another word. I try not to listen to the their conversation, all I want to do is sleep, and it takes a lot in me to not tell them to shut the fuck up. But I still manage to catch bits and pieces of it. They talk about their dead family they care about, I can't relate.

"What's keeping you alive?"

And I realize that I would not know how to answer that question.

The next day we begin moving again, it's never safe to stay in the same place for too long. I'm praying for at least a small break today, but my eyes are already beginning to make out three figures in the distance.

Great.

My fingers wrap around my weapon, I'm tired of taking chances. No one here would think twice about trying to kill one of us. They seem slightly familiar, but I'm not what day I last saw them. Their names don't stick out to me either, but when have I ever given the time to care? The boy begins speaking to Elettra, he must be from Six, he talks as if they're long time friends. And finally he turns to me, eyes narrowing, lifting his weapon.

"This one is for Callixtus Shim,"

"I'm sorry, who?"

And the next thing I know his weapon is coming towards me, I lift mine up casually, and I feel his bat make contact with the metal of my glaive. Not once, but twice. Good thing he doesn't seem to know how to use a weapon. But I really don't know who he means, the only Shim I know is from a past game. Am I supposed to know who this Callixtus is?

The next thing I know Elettra and Castor are by my side in a split second, attacking one of the girls from the other side. It's weird having someone who will try and protect.

Maybe, just maybe, it's good to have someone who cares.

The blonde is the next one to finally speak. She looks familiar, I think she was touted coming in, probably from a career district. Her name starts with a K or something? Does it really matter, she's going to be dead soon, just like the rest of us. Her eyes narrow, and she basically spits venom at me.

"You,"

"Wow, you know who I am too? Glad to know I'm so popular,"

A smirk spreads across my lips. But deep down I know that it is not the good kind of popular. I am not well liked. But it doesn't matter here.

Nothing matters in here.

"Sleeping well Summit? Boy I really I hope your not, cause I ain’t killed anyone and I haven’t slept a wink. Can you tell I’ve been losing out on my beauty sleep,"

My face scrunches up, as if I'm trying to get a better look, as if squinting is going to help her appearance anyway. Definitely not her best look.

"Yeah I'd say you're looking a little rough. But I've been sleeping great, thanks for asking,"

I smile at her, but my muscles are tensed, ready to move in a quick second. I can tell by the way she's holding her weapon that she's not planning to sit down and have tea with me.

"You killed my friend. Now you have to pay,"

"You had a friend? Now that's very surprising,"

A small laugh escapes my lips, even though nothing about this situation is funny. And I lift my weapon up in front of my face and I feel them clash together. She swings again in anger, but I'm ready for it, only our weapons hitting, not a scratch on me.

"Aren't you supposed to be a career or something?"

I know I'm pressing my luck, but if I'm about to go down, I'm going to go down swinging. I need something about me to be memorable, I can't be forgotten once I'm dead.

No one knows who I am now.

At least maybe they'll know my name later.

I keep my glaive in front, staring at the career girl in front of me. Maybe I'll get lucky, maybe somehow I'll survive this. Because now, I think I may possibly want to live. I'm about to bring my weapon down on the girl when I hear Castor's voice to my right.

"It's not Eszter's fault,"

But little does she know it is my fault.

Everything is my fault.

But I swing anyway.

table by fox

[attacks Cassiopia ; glaive]
344UnqK9glaive
[sc on left calf - 3.5]

glaive

[kap]

As the day fell into night and the sky was illuminated with the faces of the fallen, Sage craned his neck to see who was gone. He watched as each tribute’s image appeared and then disappeared, his mind wandering slightly on the thoughts of each one that showed up.

Atlas Lumiere. Sage hadn’t known him, but he knew he was strong. He had gotten a high training score, and certainly done well in aspect of fighting. Somehow, though, he’d been taken down. Someone killed him, and it was quite possible that that someone could be lurking nearby. Sage couldn’t let himself worry about that one particular person without knowing who it was, though. He had to stay as calm as one could in an arena full of people that want to end your life to prolong their own.

Anarchy Bryce. He’d only known Anarchy briefly. To be entirely honest, he didn’t even get the chance to speak to her directly before he saw her die. Regardless, she was a strong-willed individual, fighting to the end. It was terrible for her to go the way she did. Sage had to do all he could not to think about the gruesome scene that he had witnessed.

Raven Barker It was another tribute he’d never spoken to. Regardless, she must have been good to have made it as far as she did. Though, if she was good for making it as far as she did, what did that make Sage? Was he any better? No, he hadn’t done much. He hadn’t even managed to take down a mutt. Surely most of the other tributes that remained were stronger fighters than he, no matter how much motivation he had.

Marcus Fletcher. He was dead, and Sage wasn’t the one to do it. It almost came as a relief that the boy he’d bickered with so much was finally gone. At the same time, though, they’d saved one another’s lives more than once. Was it right to be grateful that he was dead? Who’d killed him, anyway? At least he was with Seth now.

Helios Delacroix. Helios was gone, too. For some reason, Sage saw Helios as strong, in the short moments he’d seen his face on the reaping recap videos. They’d never met, but it didn’t seem right for him to be dead already. Regardless, nothing could be done at this point. Every tribute gone was one person closer to Sage going home.

As the anthem concluded, however, this time, instead of peaceful silence, there was a storm. A storm of rose petals in the orchard. His male ally yelled for them to run, and Sage obeyed. Somehow, their running had landed them back in an area where he’d been before; the place where he and Marcus parted for good. The last time that they saw each other was in this place. Before their next encounter, Sage briefly catches the name of his female ally; Cassie. That would be good to know if they made it out of the next happenings alive.

When Sage finally thought they were safe from the storm, however, he saw three other tributes at the same time as his allies did. Scolding came from the older male, and a bit of bantering went back and forth between the tributes aside from Sage. According to the one called Elettra, Sage’s ally was named Rio- also a good thing to know; just in case. Before Sage could think on it too much, though, the attacks began. Rio’s attack missed, as did Cassie’s, but two blades dug into Sage instead.

What makes me the target?

Then he realized, he’s always been the target. Even back home. The bullies always went after him, so what would make him think it’d end up any differently in the arena?

This caused the boy’s rage to increase past the point it was already at. He may have been angry about Affron’s death, but that didn’t mean that was the only thing that could anger him. Getting hit with weapons surely wasn’t a pleasurable thing, so he knew he had to do something about it. With his spiked club in hand, he got ready to strike.

"I'm Sage Scarborough, and if I'm gonna die in this ridiculous fucking outfit, you better bet I won't do it without fighting back."

711 words
Sage attacks Elettra with Spiked Blunt
VFyT3erxspiked blunt
[14040 -- MISS -- 0.0 damage]

spiked blunt

[Tom]

Everything glitters like gold, but blackens like coal.

The crown that's lopsided on his head sits there like a cover of comfort, even if it wasn't what anyone expected from him. A king of fools who wore a crown to hide everything that was bottled up on the inside. Elettra Eckhart breaks his heart when they had first seen her. Iris, Elvania, Amerika, Lucy, and Jequirity. The family had lost too much for them to learn the truth behind everything. Riordan Einfallen was a monster, falling deeper and deeper into his own insanity, but people kept him afloat. People like Elettra Eckhart that still had been wandering the arena, with pain in her eyes. Sadness sticks to her skin like it does to Riordan's clothes. Everything glitters like gold until it turns as black as coal.

Riordan had been happy long go, just like Elettra had been. A place that he considered home to be busy and bustling with people, until the gold turned to coal with death and memories of the unfortunate souls. All he could do was live for as long as possible. Surviving became second nature to him. The pain fused into strength, until he felt weak enough to get himself sent to a hospital, where they evaluated him, poking needles into his skin. The incidents of harm that he had gotten himself into. The fights that he walked home to, bloodied and broken. His mother had taken him to a hospital to help him heal. The only instance that his mother had truly been there for him.

The words of doctors that his mother had hired to make sure he was okay rang in his ears.

"He's a fighter ma'am. Most would have given up."

There's been so many hospital visits from the incidents that he's had happen to him. Locked away in a palace of acting and tears, until the Eckharts picked him up. Elettra speaks to him from his last words that he had spoken. Heart flutters as he dreams of taking Elettra away from the awful place that continued to break them piece by piece. Everything glitters like gold in this place, but blackens like coal, just like Riordan's heart. Once, a good man who used to be told to hold doors open for women, or speak to people in a polite tone. Now, he was breaking, trying to kill a living person.

"Have I become the monster? I doubt that's something that was ever questioned Rio."

Had she given into the blackening of the heart.

"Rio, please don't hate me,"

The urgency of her voice fills him up with watery eyes and broken promises. The small hand of Iris seems to grab his own. The deep red rose upon his hand feeling smothered for a second, but it was only a trick of the mind. Elettra Eckhart was someone that he could never hate, even if she would end up being the one end his miserable life. The crown upon his head feels even more weighted with every word that comes out of Elettra's mouth. If anything else seemed to break him, it was the urgent words of Elettra Eckhart.

"Do you trust yourself to get home, Rio? You belong back in your palace of a theater."

A palace of a theater. Get himself home. Elettra's words sends a feeling of terror through him, as it sounds like she knows that she is going to perish within the walls of their dream world that truly didn't make any sense. All he wasn't to do is cry at her words, but tears were for someone like Atlas Lumiere who had fallen too soon. Or for Ronnie Cheyne who had given it his all and still fell. Or Zanita Luzell who had loved and lost. Riordan wasn't for tears in the middle of a fight. All he could do was speak back to Elettra, with an urgency in his own tone.

"I won't hate you. I don't trust myself to get home. I don't belong there. You do, Elettra."

Elettra struck then at the kid, cutting his neck slightly. Blood still came out and Riordan felt himself panic for a moment, until he picked himself up. Elettra was giving it her all. He had to also. Or else, he would perish sooner or later. Weak or strong, he still had to fight with everything that he could. Elettra stands tall, like a warrior in his mind. If anyone could fight hard, it was her. Iris and Elvania, her weapons in the arena. A family to go back to that would love her, unlike himself. Then, the Cassie speaks over them while he stares in awe at Elettra for a moment. Castor then makes herself known to them.

Castor Karmichael was a mysterious woman, eyepatch and all. There's a certain mystery to Castor that adds to the terrifying look of her. If he could remember right, she had come with her brother, who was dead now. A weight that she carries upon her own shoulder, like Elettra and Riordan do. Carrying weights of every death that they knew. Castor was more serious in her looks, but he can still try to see past the hard exterior to a girl that was probably breaking like them all. Her words carry a certain weight that sends him into a defensive position for a moment. Words that fall from her lips sends shivers down his spine.

"Your friend volunteered for this,"

They all volunteered for this. Elettra. Elvania. Iris. Castor. Eszter. Riordan. Kid. Cassie. They all volunteered to join the onslaught of murder. Riordan regretted it so much, but at the same time, there's nothing he wouldn't do to learn that he truly could move past Jequirity and try to live for himself. A surviving spirit inside of him that glows bright. There could only be one survivor in the entire arena. He would give everything to make it Elettra, but even the gods didn't know who would survive.

"It’s not Eszter’s fault."

Castor's right and wrong about it being Eszter's fault. Eszter had taken Callixtus away from them. ALl he could do was remember how dead he looked in front of him. The first death that he had encountered in the entirety of the arena, on day two. It's only been three days since then, but it feels like a lifetime ago. Riordan's hands clench around the bat as he grits his teeth slightly in anger. If only he had been stronger, smarter, and faster. He could have saved Callixtus. He could have saved Anarchy Brice. He could have saved them. A king of fools who couldn't protect his own allies, was nothing more than a failure.

All he wants to do is break Castor down a peg, but she's not wrong. They wanted to kill Eszter because they had to. It was either them or us. Death looms over their shoulders awaiting someone to fall to the ground, bleeding out until their body goes cold. Tears that would be shed to them creating wings that could send them up to the next life. All he could do was watch Castor for a moment, bat held defensively, until he spoke again.

"It's not her fault that she killed Cal. Bullshit. She's the one who decided to kill him. She's the one who took his life."

A breath sets through his throat.

Gold glitters until it turns black like coal.

"Wouldn't you want to avenge your brother? Kill the person who killed him?"

His brother's anger comes to his mind. The words I hate you echoing through his skull as he stares at Castor. Anger in his veins as he's the monster he was terrified of becoming. A monster who was giving in to the arena of killing others. The dead bodies of the mutts before coming to his mind for a second as he speaks to her again. Voice serious, weapon held defensively.

"The truth is, only one of us will survive. I'll be damned if it's someone like Eszter."

Castor attacks the kid, as the attack is blocked by his armor. Heart hammers faster and faster, as Eszter had blocked his attack so easily. Blood boiled with rage, but he could feel himself falling deeper and deeper into the insanity. Kings were meant to fall. Queens were meant to die. Only the lucky survive the fight. Only the survivor gets to make it out of the arena. As he hears kid, Sage say his name, and misses Elettra, his heart feels calm again. There's only black coal in the arena. The glittering gold was gone now. There's nothing more than coal that lives in it's place. Hearts turning a pitch black, until they die. Blood soaked hands with the blood of someone else.

Eszter Summit didn't know who Cal was and it infuriated Riordan.

There's only one thing he can do. He readies himself and the bat in his hands. Rose pressed against the handle. They had done nothing to Eszter Summit. All she had done was lift up the weapon and block their blows. Almost as if she didn't even have to try against them. A sigh echoes from his throat as he readies himself. The bat swings. Heart hammers. And only one thought comes to his mind.

Eszter Summit was infuriating in every way possible.

(Riordan Einfallen attacks Eszter Summit with Barbed Wired Baseball Bat [spiked blunt])
d6VmFQsFspiked blunt
(Deep gash on right bicep 8.0)


spiked blunt

[ghosty]

ELETTRA ECKHART

To fight is something that I never imagined, while at home, ice freezing over the wounds that the games inflicted. I thought that I would be some kind of pathetic mess in this place, rather than someone swing at the head, aiming to take it with the cold, curved blade of a scythe. And that is where I find myself, the sharp point barely scratching the boy in front of me. I remember him, one of the two from Twelve.

And in my heart, he is nothing other than unknown. Rio barely glanced towards him, affection seemingly lacking. Why did he trust Twelve, in this place? 

"I won't hate you. I don't trust myself to get home. I don't belong there. You do, Elettra." I snort; I don't belong in a theater, a place that once held music of my sister, and a king who'd lie dormant in the graveyard of Six. I don't deserve the crown to hang upon my head, rather than him, rather than anyone.

I cannot even keep my own sisters alive in this mess, the cannons repetition in my skull is going to never let me forget, never forget the syncopation of cannon-fire to heartbeat. 

The crown on Rio's head shakes as he lurches towards Eszter; I can't lift my weapon against Rio, no matter what he does. Jequirity's eyes pierce my memories -- forever they'll haunt me if I dare lift this weapon of death against him, if I see him fall under the blade. 

"I don't deserve anything Rio. I can't even keep little Iris alive, Elva. Jequirity would be ashamed, and don't you dare try convince me otherwise." Anger seeps; I am ashamed with myself, and I never will be proud of this place, what I've done here, until the last breath latches into my throat. There is no link between me before, the girl who found out about histories of bank robbery, of love, of guns, and me, standing here, broken.

But I'll be damned if I die here, Rio looking down on me. I don't deserve the gaze of such a king.

"But if you want to kill Eszter, you're going to have to try harder than that."

Twelve strays too close once again for the long handle of the scythe; the pray wanders into the deadly trap.

[elettra attacks sage, scythe]
9l3heRJWglaive
[13064 -- Shallow Cut on Neck -- 4.0 damage]

glaive

[ali]

Heaven if you sent us down
So we could build a playground
For the sinners to play as saints
You'd be so proud of what we've made

And so the battle began with the clatter of weapons and the air began to fill with the scent of bloodthirsty hunger and the lingering shadow of death and Cassiopeia Shaw was at the heart of it, a heart of glistening fire, golden against the dullen landscape around them, strands of loose blond hair dancing in the wind. Heart thudding in her chest, firey gaze met a cold hearted stare. The Summit girls lips twitched into an all familiar smirk and for a moment, all Cassia could see was another career who was far too big for her own boots.

"Don't flatter yourself Summit, everyone knows your name from that family member of yours." Cassia laughs dryly as their weapons collide, the girl from seven triumphently blocking her swing. Anger and the need for revenge fuels her, but the ghost of the girl Cassiopeia could be haunts her face as her own lips twitched into a smirk at the brunette's words, they were fire and ice laced on a serpants tongue. Before coming here, Cassia might have laughed or punched Ezster for her commment about her having friends but that Cassiopeia Shaw was slowly breaking at the seams and had been for a very long time.

Cassia steps backwards as the Summit girl makes a swing but she does not do it soon enough and a firey hot pain erupts from her leg. The blonde barely flinches, gritting her teeth as her grasp on her own weapon tightens until her knuckles are as white as the salted ground beneath their feet. Another laugh escapes her lips, dry and empty of humour. "You certainly have the attitude of a career, but fuck you're no better than me-"a beat, Castor's words reach her ears and she turns with a thin lined smile pressed against her lips "-Oh yeah thats right. I forgot that it was a giant rat who drove her sword into the Shim boy"

Her voice grew louder as she spoke, before turning back to Ezster, following through with a swing of her weapon.

[Cassiopiea Shaw attack Eszter Summitt]
lBsMF5Ehspiked blunt
[14002 -- BROKEN LEFT SHIN -- 7.0 damage]

Cassiopia Shaw

District 2 Tribute

spiked blunt

[Python]

The spear was not an extension of her body. It was thin and awkward in inexperienced hands, jabbing at flesh as if the boy in front of her were raw meat. He announced himself as Sage Scarborough, a fighter. He could speak for all of them; there would be no death without battle today, and that was precisely what they had signed up for. She withdrew her blood-tipped spear and stepped back. Sharp voices rang out one after the other, snide comments and vengeful dialogue that reminded her of the world’s primitive ways. Somebody always had something crude to say. When her spirit was whole, she could say the same about herself.

Now, she didn’t have the energy.

”She’s the one who decided to kill him.”

But it was he who decided to sacrifice himself. She didn’t know of this Shim boy and his reasonings, but decisions had consequences. Those were his – and these are mine. She understood vengeance at its finest degree. Could she rewind time and inflict her personal wrath on the bitch who stole her eye, she would. In a heartbeat her vision would bleed red and she would lather herself in the seeds of wrath. But these were different circumstances. Their vengeance was empty, and hers was nonexistent.

”My brother was devoured by mutts,” she said plainly, although the image of Ingran skewering his neck was too vibrant to ignore. Perhaps it was Ingran who truly caused his death, and perhaps not. She only knew that there was no body to hold, nothing to return home but bones and memories. ”There’s nothing left to do.”

Just mourn.

Yet the echoes of snapping bones drew her attention back to the problem at hand. It was clear that their revenge quest was personal. She didn’t know what type of person Eszter was, but she could guarantee that she had met worse. The girl had a venomous tongue and an even deadlier bite, but she was not Ingran. His cruelty was genuine. Beneath his mask was a void, empty and black and seemingly deprived of emotion. Her encounters with these cursed souls were endless. They snatched her sister, next her eye, and finally her brother. The world was rampant with sociopaths.

And maybe she was wrong – maybe Eszter was among this black-hearted species, but what did it matter now? She was a piece of home.

What else do you have?

[ table: rave ]

[attacks sage - spear]
oja0S2k1spear
Deep Gash on Right Bicep -- 8.0 damage

spear

[gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕]

E S Z T E R

At some point, everyone runs out of something. Food, time, friends,

Luck.

And it seems that mine is dwindling.

It's trickling out as much as it can muster, but I don't know if there is enough left to keep me alive. Earlier on, I'd be thrilled, my time finally coming to an end, but now, I'm not so sure.

A part of me just wants to give up, to make it easier on myself, but then another part tells me to go down fighting, don't let them see you be weak. And then a small voice, the quietest of them all, tells me that there still might be a chance.

That there is still hope.

The other boy's weapon just misses Elettra's arm, and I can't help but feel a rage build up within me, like a fire whose flames grow with the more fuel you add. No. She can not die. I already failed Iris and Helios. I barely knew them, but a part of me blames myself for their deaths. I should have been able to do something more.

Anything.

My eyes narrow and the grip on my weapon tightens. I will not die today. I think they may need me.

The boy from Six is rattling on to Elettra about how he's becoming what he never wanted to be, and my mind wanders to why he even bothered to volunteer.

No one ever comes out of here the same.

"The truth is, only one of us will survive. I'll be damned if it's someone like Eszter,"

My jaw clenches and I attempt to hold my tongue, but when have I ever been able to do that.

"I just think it's funny, because in order to make out of here you're going to have to become just like me, pretty boy,"

A laugh escapes my lips, but nothing is funny about what I've said, just the truth. Something that even I wish maybe I could change.

His weapon comes down towards me again, but this time I am too slow. It cuts a large gash into my arm, and I can't help but cry out in pain. Almost every part of me wants to quit, but I stay standing, just as defiant as ever.

My eyes flash back to the Career, knowing she's coming for me next. I ready myself, praying I'm able to move quicker this time.

"Don't flatter yourself Summit, everyone knows your name from that family member of yours."

"Oh don't you have someone dead too? I can't remember her name, but she was definitely a lot better than you are, too bad it didn't pay off,"

I can't help but roll my eyes, who knew that people could be so self centered. We're all nothing. We're all here for the same reason.

They don't care who we were or what we're becoming.

"You certainly have the attitude of a career, but fuck you're no better than me-"

"It's fine though, I have nothing to live up to,"

I just have nothing.

I try and move again, but for some reason my feet are not working as quickly as my brain. Her weapon collides with my shin and I hear a sickening snap. It doesn't take a doctor to tell me that it's broken. I scream out.

"Fucking bitch,"

My hand automatically reaches for my leg. It is so numb, I'm worried it's not there. Every part of me wants to just lay here and not move, to let them finish me. But then I see Elettra and Castor. And I think of Iris and Helios and the others that they lost and I can't do it. The voice is screaming now, telling me to hope, that there could be a chance.



Maybe I'll have just enough luck left.

table by fox

[attacks Cassiopia ; glaive]
z409|pY0glaive
[dg on right thigh - 8.0]

glaive

[kap]

He was beginning to feel weaker. The newfound warrior was losing his strength. Each time the blades sunk into his skin, he wanted to yell out in pain, but he couldn't. If he did, he'd only show how beaten down he actually felt. Showing weakness had been part of why so many people at home bullied him. Now, the bullies were in the arena, and he wouldn't let them see his weakness. Sage would stay strong.

Holding his ground, the boy's stance was firm, and his weapon was at the ready. Were Parsley, Rosemary and Thyme watching? What did they think, seeing him get hit with weapons left and right? He couldn't let them down. He would fight to the very end, even if it was his end.

Sage took his spiked club and swung at the girl again that he recognized as the only remaining Eckhart in the arena. She wouldn't be the victor. No, she'd attacked him one too many times for him to allow that to occur. He had to take her down, and he wanted her allies dead, too. Death wasn't the nicest thing to wish upon someone, but he knew that his allies felt the same way. This managed to make the guilt a little less heavy.

Parsley, this one is for you, he thought to himself.

"Don't you dare touch me again!" He roared at the Eckhart. "You don't deserve a victory over me! I have a reason to go home! Your fellow Eckharts are gone. What reason do you have?"

Sage attacks Elettra with Spiked Blunt
_X4eZZk6spiked blunt
[results]

spiked blunt

[Tom]

There's no returning from the bottom of the pit.

He's fallen. Fallen from his pedestal above, like an angel whose wings went up in flames. The smell of burning flesh comes to his mind as he notices the barbed wire cuts into Eszter Summit's skin. Blood that he would expect comes out. Wings were burnt and he fell to the bottom of the pit, where monsters lurk and the evil rests. Lost to himself and giving in to the evil at the bottom of the pit. There's no going home. There's no returning back to the way things were. Only a deep pain that resonates through his heart. Elettra Eckhart is the first one he can hear. Her words sends a frown on to his face.

"I don't deserve anything Rio. I can't even keep little Iris alive, Elva. Jequirity would be ashamed, and don't you dare try convince me otherwise."

All he knows is that he wants to cry for Elettra. This wasn't the time or the place. Iris and Elva were dead. They'd become headstones and wooden coffins next to the other three. Only one Eckhart could make it. Only one Einfallen could make it. Only one of them would make it out alive. Elettra deserved so much more than she thought. Riordan wishes that he could tell her all that she deserves, but even the king of fools couldn't speak. All he could do was stare for a moment. A frown still upon his face. A deep breath of air to calm his nerves as he speaks out to Elettra, with what he knows.

"Stop Elettra. No one could have kept them alive. Not even myself. Jequirity wouldn't be ashamed of you. If anything, from what I remember of her, she'd be proud of you. I will try to convince you otherwise. Since, I'm the one she would be disappointed in. I couldn't even stand next to any of you. I don't deserve anything."

She would be proud of the Elettra the angel who tried to protect Elva and Iris, but not Rio. The man who left the Eckharts to ally with a district four. Left them with so many regrets, but he couldn't protect them like Elettra would have wanted. A palace of a theater waits at home for him, but even the biggest of theaters wouldn't have saved him from the guilt he feels for the Eckharts that he's let down throughout the games. He can hear Frances Eckhart in the back of his mind. He can hear them all speak like they were next to him, but they weren't.

Everything that glitters like gold could blacken like coal.

That's what his crown proved.

It's a representation of himself.

"But if you want to kill Eszter, you're going to have to try harder than that."

"I don't need to try."

All he wants to do is hug Elettra, but they were fighting like they were meant to. The gods were laughing in irony at them as blades clash into one another. Castor Karmichael is a mysterious woman, but emotions seep through the cracks along her walled in heart. Emotions of loss, he can see it. He's always been able to see the way people were feeling to loss of someone they loved, since he's lost so many over the years. Everyone that dies becomes the glittering gold that they deserved to become. Riordan would blacken like coal, while everyone else glitters like the gold.

"My brother was devoured by mutts,"

Anarchy Brice was killed by a shark. Jano's death must have been terrible. Worse than Anarchy Brice's death. All he knew about mutts had come from what he's seen. No one's been devoured completely by anything. A mutt was out there able to devour people whole, there's something out there that's even more terrifying than the shark that had killed Anarchy Brice. Hands clutch his bat as he can see the deep red rose that sits upon his palm. Iris would hate him. Elvania would have cursed him. Jequirity would have been ashamed of him. There's nothing more in the pit, but a hollow man known as Riordan Einfallen.

”There’s nothing left to do.”

The gears of his mind turn until he speaks out loud. There's something to do, but he wouldn't tell her it. Not fully, only a hint at something more. There's one thing that she could do. All he can do is try to hint it for Castor Karmichael. Eyepatch and all, she was different than he had expected. Her look made him think that she would be like Eszter Summit. An infuriating girl who could kill.

"There is something you could do. There's someone out there that could have killed him.
Someone you wouldn't think of. It's up to you to decide what you do."

A smile pulls at his face as he clutches the bat in his hands. Castor Karmichael could become something stronger than him. Someone who could end his life and send him to the hell that he deserves. A sigh follows from his breath as he can see Elettra strike at Sage. Then Cassie strikes at Eszter. Only a few words come out of his lips, directed towards Castor.

"You're an interesting one, Castor. Too bad that you had to run into a monster like me."

Sage's words ring in his ears.

"You don't deserve a victory over me! I have a reason to go home! Your fellow Eckharts are gone. What reason do you have?"

A chuckle escapes Riordan's lips. Family. There's always an Eckhart out there, even if five die, there were five more that seemed to come back as the next generation of Eckharts. They were like the cockroaches of District Six that the capitol wanted to get rid of, but couldn't. They were resilient from anything that came their way. Riordan wasn't like them. He wanted to join them, but there was no room or hope for him to be able to through Jequirity Eckhart. There was nothing there, but how he wished there had been.

Voice speaks to Sage.

"She's got more reason than I do, kid. There's a home waiting for her."

Eszter Summit must die.

She makes his blood boil with rage. Revenge wasn't something pretty. It made him break more and more. Piece by piece, his crown was becoming the one of tyrannical king. He didn't deserve to be gazed at like he was a king. He wasn't a king, only a failure to his family and loved ones. All he could be was a monster who wore a crown, thinking he was a king. Once an angel who turned into a monster like the shark that killed Anarchy Brice. Eszter's words ring in his ear. The words send him spiraling downwards for a moment. He's losing himself. He's losing himself to the world around him. Fantasy and reality mixing into one that seems to toss him deeper and deeper into the pit of darkness.

"I just think it's funny, because in order to make out of here you're going to have to become just like me, pretty boy,"

Pretty boy was something that he's heard too much. Lots of fun times and lots of sad times. No one called him pretty boy in such a casual way. Eszter Summit wouldn't get away with it. He's already become what he didn't want to become. A monster who was losing himself to the flames that burned the wings away. In the games, he was cracking from the original man that he had been. The man who ran an opera house and still was there for everyone else who needed him. He's blackened so much that he could be considered full of coal. All he can do is say one thing to her.

"I already have."

The bat swings with the anger that boils through his blood.

Everything glitters like gold, but he's blackened like coal.

(Riordan Einfallen attacks Eszter Summit with Barbed Wire Baseball bat [spiked blunt])
73UcAfpxspiked blunt
(Broken right femur 7.5)

spiked blunt

[ghosty]

ELETTRA ECKHART

Violent promises, spoken softly across a battlefield; Riordan never knows when the battle is lost, the one with my heart slowly falling until it is a conflict that I do not understand. I have nothing to fight for, other than the memory of Iris, of Elva. Rio deserves his throne, his palace. I deserve a chasm where I can remember all of my mistakes and make them golden so they'll always live. 

I still feel their warm skin under my fingertips, the fading of eyelids to the deathly-blue pallor they lie in wait for dirt above them. 

Their memories is what's keeping me strong in this moment: that and the facing up to Francis if I ever get home. I made her promises that someone would get home, and it was never intended to be me, not meant to be anyone other than Iris, or Elva. 

Twelve calls across to me; "Don't you dare touch me again! You don't deserve a victory over me! I have a reason to go home! Your fellow Eckharts are gone. What reason do you have?" Anger blinds; he doesn't understand that I have a home.

It may be broken, and silent and full of ice, but it's the only place that I know. Frances, all of them, they're broken. 

"I have stories and histories to tell. Sisters' to remember, Twelve. You know nothing of loss of family, do you? I'm not ready to say goodbye to my memories just yet, kid. Riordan is more likely to feed you to the mutts than let you take me out." 

Jequirity looks down, scorn in her eyes: I am slowly losing myself in this place, death weighing heavy on shoulders already bruised from weights too high for someone to hold alone. That is all that it feels like in this place, surrounded by strangers. They know of my surname, but they do not know the struggle that history holds for it. 5 sisters, losing them is like losing a hand. Incomplete.

Eckharts heart's stop, but the rhythm that they left I count in my head. Five beats is what it counts:

I fear now to hear silence.

[elettra attacks sage, scythe]
5V8UVYQrglaive
[]

glaive

[ali]

Heaven if you sent us down
So we could build a playground
For the sinners to play as saints
You'd be so proud of what we've made

This a filler cause my brain is like x_x rn.

"Yeah. I did." Cassia said dryly "Her name was Astrid- and she was 10 times the person I could ever be."

Cassia laughed at Summitt's remark. "You're funny. Real funny. Shame you're not going to be laughing for much longer."

Then Cassia breaks Eszters Shin and she's like well, oops but no opps. Misses Rio's dad jokes. Gets cut on the leg. Don't say anything and just swings again, blind rage now.

"Looks like your lucks running low."

[Cassiopiea Shaw attack Eszter Summitt]
Ac8q9jHzspiked blunt
[attack result]

Cassiopia Shaw

District 2 Tribute

[/quote]
spiked blunt