a very merry unbirthday (Day 6)
Apr 18, 2017 5:23:52 GMT -5
Post by ali on Apr 18, 2017 5:23:52 GMT -5
I will ask you for mercy
I will come to you blind
What you’ll see is the worst me
I'm not the last of my kind
I will come to you blind
What you’ll see is the worst me
I'm not the last of my kind
Knelt in the white earth, the thin skin of water laps at the torn knees of Cassia's trousers turning the slightest of pinks as her blood- and Eszter's- leached into it from her clothes. For the first time in days, the blonde finds herself staring at the reflection she sees in the water and naturally she is repulsed by the twisted, pitted and peppered with round bulbus yellowing blisters skin that wraps itself around a skull, hair peeling back from the front of her hairline where the blistered skin infects the centimetere above their forehead. A gash, still fresh, draws a hardline along their cheek, curving downards towards her lips where it ends just short of their mouth, her slips now upturned into a permanant sneer. Bright, tearful blue eyes stare back at her, unblinking, but she doesn't recognize them anymore, nor the face they belong too.
Her father had once taught her, what seemed like a century ago, so faded from her mind that it might as well have been a myth rather than fact, that when she made her first kill that she would feel like a god. That is what they had taught at the career centre too, when Cassiopeia had no one left to train her when her father had been taken; they had told her, time and time again that they would feel all powerful, like Ripred himself. Gods among men, that is what they called the Victors of the Games, hell anyone who made a kill was practically made a Saint in District 2. Cassia did not feel much like a Saint, nor did she feel like a God either, drenched in some girls blood. Despite the fact that they had all choosen out of their own will to come into the Arena, Cassiopeia Shaw simply felt like she had been a coward.
Guilt, a heavy reminded, stained her hands and caught in her throat. Her weapons had melted in her palms, just like any other day but she had not found the will or the strength to wash it from her palms- instead just staring at the red wax, a horrific reminder of how she had torn that girl to shreds until it was too late and it had hardened. The water here would not rid her of the stain on her hands, no matter how hard she had scrubbed against the salted earth, so hard that she thought she might of drawn blood but done very little to tear away the wax. It marked her. Reminded her. Warned others, a blaring colour on the killers hands, a dangerous colour smeared across her fingertips telling those to stay away.
The sound of the water shifting underfoot ignited that colour inside Cassiopeia's heart. She exhaled, slowly, steadily but barely moved as the sound of footsteps, treading through the water towards her. A statue, knelt in the silver slither of water which painted the landscape her, donned newly in the blood of Eszter Summit and a pair of furiously red waxened gloves that stretched from her fingertips to the crook of her elbow, she was unmoved by the water as it rippled about her knees as they got closer. She stared at the reflection of blue sky in the water, not even taking a moment to glance back and see who it was; she knew who it was already.
Their footsteps stopped. "Cassie! I'm here. We're here. Everything will be okay." She inhaled and exhaled sharply, tilting her head to the sky as they spoke, their words were almost laughable. As she exhaled, she could feel the heat rising in her, the numbness she had felt before was fading as her anger became more intoxicating as it mixed with emotions she had long since felt before arriving in the Games. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest, that same white noise that filled her head in those final moments before Eszter Summit died at her hand was now returning, each rush of blood through her head bought the roaring louder. Her exhale should have been filled with fire and smoke, but instead there was nothing.
"Go." She said, sharply before they could even began. Her words were tight, barely above a whisper as she pushed the word through her gritted teeth. Tears began to sting her eyes as they desperately tried to help her but as they welled in the corner of her eyelids, threatening to spill down her cheeks with abandon, she could feel the rage building inside her too. Red hands clenched into fists as her gaze dropped to her knees again, before words laced with venom passed through her lips "I said, Go."
"No. I am not leaving you, Cassie." Riordan Einfallen spoke with enough conviction that it may have swayed Cassia to listen to him if she had not been seeing red. The words sparked inside her, a match brushing sharply against a rough surface and she was consumed in fire unlike before. In one swift movement, Cassiopeia rose to her feet, snatching up one of the light chrome green javelins she had hastily drawn before turning to face the man who had been her friend when no one else had but in this moment, as she stepped towards him with her hand so tightly clenched around her weapon that the wax which stained her hands began to crack, that she didn't want friends.
"GO! NOW! Before I kill you both." For a moment, her voice is the only sound in the whole arena; it was as if the sky whales and the birds and the canon fire from distant fights had all taken a moment to mourn for Cassiopeia's loss. Rio did not speak either, her simply stared at her in disbelief. Her chest tightened, agonisingly painful as she stared back at Riordan. Despite her blindness, her devotion to her guilt, she wanted nothing more than to hug Riordan, listen to his comforting words like she had done when she had been injured by the Jellyfish but she knew she couldn't. The voices whispered in her mind, telling her that it was too late for that and that she would only have to kill him eventually. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks as she stared him down. Why won't he leave? she asked herself, inhaling sharply when he did not move but she knew why he did not move.
"Don't make me count to ten." Her words are barely a whisper, sharp and harsh as ice, they spill from her firey lips. The numbers are rising in her throat, one by one they fall from between her parched lips, one by one she hears them in her head and she begs herself not to do it and begs Riordan to just leave; she gives all her strength into not screaming at him as she begins to count. Unlike before, when she had first met the Cowboy, where her words had been full of bravos and granduar, her whole body shivered in fear that he would not leave; she wondered if she could hear it in her voice. The pleading, the begging that he just go. "1.......2..........3...." Come on Riordan. "....4.........5!....6!"
"I'm not gonna go easy on you Cassie, if that's what you want."
And then he turned and walked away. Cassiopeia watched him go, her shoulders sagging as she sank to her knees slowly as he got further and further away. Her bright blue eyes watched him walk to the edge of the world, slowly growing smaller and smaller until he was a tiny dot on the horizon before he faded from her existence. When he was gone, she let out a sob, dropping the javelin and burying her tormented face into her guilt painted hands and cried.
The sound of someone yelling over a megaphone woke Cassiopeia from a sleep she had not realized she'd fallen into. With a start, Cassia's eyes opened, her face pressed against unkempt grass, the sickly scent of roses washing over her. Slowly, the girl sat, placing a hand to her head as a frown began to knit itself on her brow; she felt drunk with confusion, the hours between now and seeing Riordan walk away had passed within a blink of an eye but she vaguley remembered walking in the oppisote direction to him. Eventually she must have stumbled into where ever she was now, and fallen into a dreamless sleep. A few moments later, as she blinked away the morning sunlight, she realized she was in the rose garden.
Pushing herself to her feet, Cassia began to move in the vague direction of the noise. The scent of the roses was overwhelming but she could not help but catch the hint of something sweeter underneath it; she was certain she could smell cake. Her distrust and uncertainty bubbled away as she rounded a corner, and through the gaps in the hedges and between the topiary, she could see a table ladened with food. Cassiopeia blinked, certain for second that she was imagining that she could see cucumber sandwhiches, macaroons and eclairs piled on a white table cloth but when she blinked again and the food did not disapear, she found herself running over to the table. Her stomach lurched with hunger, grumbling in annoyance that she had not found the table any sooner than Day 6.
"Oh my fucking god!" she exclaimed, practically stumbling over a strange, glass animal who nooted angrily at her. "Fuck, sorry." she said, turning to the creature, only to see that it was dressed like a bellhop. The creature continued to noot at her, nudging her weapons. "Yeah, sure-" she said with little care for her weapons. She didn't really give a shit if they ate the wax javelins, all she wanted was food.
When she had been back in District 2, she was sometimes allowed to attend her families parties. Her father cared little for such occasions and so did she really but it was at these parties where- if they were lucky- they would have an assortment of sweet treats and nibbles but nothing on this scale. Her blue eyes widened, childish wonder filling them as she stared at the displays of cupcakes, sandwhiches, scones, eclairs, macaroons, cakes of all description- battenburg, coconut, maderia- all beatufiully presented on silver tiered cake stands. Steaming cups of tea were set out at the table too. As she flopped onto the nearest chair, she reached out and picked up an eclair. Taking a bite, she sunk into her chair with a soft moan. "Fuck me" she mumbled, taking a moment to have another bite.
Her father had once taught her, what seemed like a century ago, so faded from her mind that it might as well have been a myth rather than fact, that when she made her first kill that she would feel like a god. That is what they had taught at the career centre too, when Cassiopeia had no one left to train her when her father had been taken; they had told her, time and time again that they would feel all powerful, like Ripred himself. Gods among men, that is what they called the Victors of the Games, hell anyone who made a kill was practically made a Saint in District 2. Cassia did not feel much like a Saint, nor did she feel like a God either, drenched in some girls blood. Despite the fact that they had all choosen out of their own will to come into the Arena, Cassiopeia Shaw simply felt like she had been a coward.
Guilt, a heavy reminded, stained her hands and caught in her throat. Her weapons had melted in her palms, just like any other day but she had not found the will or the strength to wash it from her palms- instead just staring at the red wax, a horrific reminder of how she had torn that girl to shreds until it was too late and it had hardened. The water here would not rid her of the stain on her hands, no matter how hard she had scrubbed against the salted earth, so hard that she thought she might of drawn blood but done very little to tear away the wax. It marked her. Reminded her. Warned others, a blaring colour on the killers hands, a dangerous colour smeared across her fingertips telling those to stay away.
The sound of the water shifting underfoot ignited that colour inside Cassiopeia's heart. She exhaled, slowly, steadily but barely moved as the sound of footsteps, treading through the water towards her. A statue, knelt in the silver slither of water which painted the landscape her, donned newly in the blood of Eszter Summit and a pair of furiously red waxened gloves that stretched from her fingertips to the crook of her elbow, she was unmoved by the water as it rippled about her knees as they got closer. She stared at the reflection of blue sky in the water, not even taking a moment to glance back and see who it was; she knew who it was already.
Their footsteps stopped. "Cassie! I'm here. We're here. Everything will be okay." She inhaled and exhaled sharply, tilting her head to the sky as they spoke, their words were almost laughable. As she exhaled, she could feel the heat rising in her, the numbness she had felt before was fading as her anger became more intoxicating as it mixed with emotions she had long since felt before arriving in the Games. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest, that same white noise that filled her head in those final moments before Eszter Summit died at her hand was now returning, each rush of blood through her head bought the roaring louder. Her exhale should have been filled with fire and smoke, but instead there was nothing.
"Go." She said, sharply before they could even began. Her words were tight, barely above a whisper as she pushed the word through her gritted teeth. Tears began to sting her eyes as they desperately tried to help her but as they welled in the corner of her eyelids, threatening to spill down her cheeks with abandon, she could feel the rage building inside her too. Red hands clenched into fists as her gaze dropped to her knees again, before words laced with venom passed through her lips "I said, Go."
"No. I am not leaving you, Cassie." Riordan Einfallen spoke with enough conviction that it may have swayed Cassia to listen to him if she had not been seeing red. The words sparked inside her, a match brushing sharply against a rough surface and she was consumed in fire unlike before. In one swift movement, Cassiopeia rose to her feet, snatching up one of the light chrome green javelins she had hastily drawn before turning to face the man who had been her friend when no one else had but in this moment, as she stepped towards him with her hand so tightly clenched around her weapon that the wax which stained her hands began to crack, that she didn't want friends.
"GO! NOW! Before I kill you both." For a moment, her voice is the only sound in the whole arena; it was as if the sky whales and the birds and the canon fire from distant fights had all taken a moment to mourn for Cassiopeia's loss. Rio did not speak either, her simply stared at her in disbelief. Her chest tightened, agonisingly painful as she stared back at Riordan. Despite her blindness, her devotion to her guilt, she wanted nothing more than to hug Riordan, listen to his comforting words like she had done when she had been injured by the Jellyfish but she knew she couldn't. The voices whispered in her mind, telling her that it was too late for that and that she would only have to kill him eventually. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks as she stared him down. Why won't he leave? she asked herself, inhaling sharply when he did not move but she knew why he did not move.
"Don't make me count to ten." Her words are barely a whisper, sharp and harsh as ice, they spill from her firey lips. The numbers are rising in her throat, one by one they fall from between her parched lips, one by one she hears them in her head and she begs herself not to do it and begs Riordan to just leave; she gives all her strength into not screaming at him as she begins to count. Unlike before, when she had first met the Cowboy, where her words had been full of bravos and granduar, her whole body shivered in fear that he would not leave; she wondered if she could hear it in her voice. The pleading, the begging that he just go. "1.......2..........3...." Come on Riordan. "....4.........5!....6!"
"I'm not gonna go easy on you Cassie, if that's what you want."
And then he turned and walked away. Cassiopeia watched him go, her shoulders sagging as she sank to her knees slowly as he got further and further away. Her bright blue eyes watched him walk to the edge of the world, slowly growing smaller and smaller until he was a tiny dot on the horizon before he faded from her existence. When he was gone, she let out a sob, dropping the javelin and burying her tormented face into her guilt painted hands and cried.
-
The sound of someone yelling over a megaphone woke Cassiopeia from a sleep she had not realized she'd fallen into. With a start, Cassia's eyes opened, her face pressed against unkempt grass, the sickly scent of roses washing over her. Slowly, the girl sat, placing a hand to her head as a frown began to knit itself on her brow; she felt drunk with confusion, the hours between now and seeing Riordan walk away had passed within a blink of an eye but she vaguley remembered walking in the oppisote direction to him. Eventually she must have stumbled into where ever she was now, and fallen into a dreamless sleep. A few moments later, as she blinked away the morning sunlight, she realized she was in the rose garden.
Pushing herself to her feet, Cassia began to move in the vague direction of the noise. The scent of the roses was overwhelming but she could not help but catch the hint of something sweeter underneath it; she was certain she could smell cake. Her distrust and uncertainty bubbled away as she rounded a corner, and through the gaps in the hedges and between the topiary, she could see a table ladened with food. Cassiopeia blinked, certain for second that she was imagining that she could see cucumber sandwhiches, macaroons and eclairs piled on a white table cloth but when she blinked again and the food did not disapear, she found herself running over to the table. Her stomach lurched with hunger, grumbling in annoyance that she had not found the table any sooner than Day 6.
"Oh my fucking god!" she exclaimed, practically stumbling over a strange, glass animal who nooted angrily at her. "Fuck, sorry." she said, turning to the creature, only to see that it was dressed like a bellhop. The creature continued to noot at her, nudging her weapons. "Yeah, sure-" she said with little care for her weapons. She didn't really give a shit if they ate the wax javelins, all she wanted was food.
When she had been back in District 2, she was sometimes allowed to attend her families parties. Her father cared little for such occasions and so did she really but it was at these parties where- if they were lucky- they would have an assortment of sweet treats and nibbles but nothing on this scale. Her blue eyes widened, childish wonder filling them as she stared at the displays of cupcakes, sandwhiches, scones, eclairs, macaroons, cakes of all description- battenburg, coconut, maderia- all beatufiully presented on silver tiered cake stands. Steaming cups of tea were set out at the table too. As she flopped onto the nearest chair, she reached out and picked up an eclair. Taking a bite, she sunk into her chair with a soft moan. "Fuck me" she mumbled, taking a moment to have another bite.
Cassiopia Shaw
District 2 Tribute
