I Love You More Than My Own Skin :: [75th Finale]

[ᕙʕ•ᴥ•ʔᕗ]

Tamron Rhodes

More messages no, memories came from my arm as blade after blade threatened to break what could only be a terrible dream. Or perhaps it was bringing me back to it as my mind hopelessly wandered and grasped for what had been while leaving what could be. My mind and myself knew there was no future now as my life leaked from every cut and bruise peppered throughout my body. “I’m sorry, Salome,” I whispered into nothingness, vaguely aware that we were all fighting our own demons. I won’t be bringing the crown home for you. I won’t make it to the end.

The unknown girl’s voice or was that Molly? faded away as it was replaced with another tender voice. Anise… Who had killed her? Was it one of the girls who stood before me? Or was it the boy who had just fallen? Down we would keep going until one of us remained standing: the Victor.

I didn’t envy either of the two girls. Once I had accepted my death, I learned to reject the alternative that was called life. Even if I did make it back home, what did I have for me there? My family, yes, but also heartbreak and terrors and regret and guilt. No, it was better to pass and be with those who I had fought with, who had fought for me. It was time for me to see Crusader and Weaver again, to tell them about Navya and Harbinger, to tell Weaver that he had a niece named after him. It was time.

Salome and Anise brought me to a sense of closure, but it was Fallon that I reached out for. “You fought well, my knight,” so brave, so strong. But I had to fail her now and see her sooner than she had anticipated. She had fought for me so I could go home, but the truth was after so many days in the arena, the only home I knew of was with her. “My very best friend” repeated and repeated like a broken record, but it gave me the strength I needed to keep fighting because even though I knew I was going to die, I wasn’t ready to lie still.



[Tamron attacks Shelby; lotus flower shurikens]
PsfbIhfgthrowing knife
[Shallow Cut on Back ; 4.0 dmg]

throwing knife

[heather - d2 [mylee]]

Evident now and forever more
I wish to slumber safely.
Sunk into the ocean
And all its depths
Pushing the waves along ever so gently.

Gentle caresses and catches of the knife leave us all sputtering and running out of hope. My blade catches lightly across the boy’s thigh, and as I step back I find disgust and disappointment welling up in my chest at the thought of the previous damage done in comparison to the present time. The boy seemed to be unfazed by the majority of my actions, but with I am now leading him by his hand to the river; I am asking him to dance with me in its waves and he is still too hesitant of the cold.

When I say I have always been a dancer, I mean that I have always known the best way to find my feet underneath me in spite of a partner who does not keep pace with my rhythm. I have been avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk and spinning ‘round every misfortunate decision without the consequence of becoming nauseous. Instead, I have only become aware. He would ask me to dance, and then play no music. He would ask me to dance, and then step on my toes and wait for my apology to fill the space between us.

Every time, in catch with the rhythm and never a count too late, “I’m so sorry.”

He never voiced an acceptance of my repentance. Instead, ihe’d ask me to dance again— still with no music and no discernable reason. It was simply willful obedience and the fear of being left in the cold that kept me moving.

His body was warm even in the deepest times of winter; he bandaged the blisters on my heels when I could not stand; he fixed all of the misfortunes he created and expected me to worship him for that reason alone.

The size of the universe in his mind was so vast and infinite, and it made it such a shame that we were so small.

But when it comes to the rationality of it all, there was no sense in attacking the boy. He was simply there, watching the life sputter out of his body like the rest of us. The girl, on the other hand, was a cocktail of repressed anger, throwing curses and blows with her knife wherever the wind took her.

She was, without a doubt, much more of a threat than the boy, but for some reason to this point she had spared me. Doubts arise in my mind as to give way to the fact that this pattern could not occur for much longer. Before long, the boy would be whisked away like the other, and we would be left here, two girls standing at the line that separates the sky above from the ground on which we walk. Her lack of blows struck against my own skin has caused a sort of faulty affection, a desire that does not hinge on lust or attraction or affection, but rather on the basic necessities of survival— the fact that though the opportunity has now arose four times over.

I would not say that I loved the girl from two, but I would say that I cared for her more than most others at the moment.

But her indifference and her anger once drive me away from here, from this place and these people and the plethora of throwing knives and glaives. I am left instead with the sound of Scarlett’s voice, still firm and unrelenting and reminding me that any task left unfulfilled is one that will come back in the end and somehow, someway utterly fuck you over.

I do not know if the apology dribbling from the end of my tongue ever made it to her ear, but I cannot bring myself to speak the words once more.

The girl from two, in all her honesty and brutality and anything else that seeped from her chest, deceived me in more ways than one. Despite her obvious anger, she had not lashed at me for taking from her what most likely was in all rights her own. She did not turn her anger against anyone but herself, and though I did not understand the logic behind it, she strikes out with her blade towards the boy and catches him across the cheek.

I smile, or rather, I think of smiling. I think of thanking her for doing all the things I have thus far failed to do. But the words do not catch my lips, no, instead they are cut short by the feel of knife blade silver scratching my back. The short burst of pain eradicated, I find myself turning ‘round, facing the boy from Eleven, and offering out my hand.

Maybe he’ll dance with me in the river.

[ table: rave ]

[shelby leviane attacks tamron rhodes; throwing knives]
2P8fcQwzthrowing knife
[knife in back-- 6.5]

throwing knife

[ali]

♚

The world was strong
Heaven hold us
Where do we go
When it's all over

She could see it in his eyes as she dug her knife into his skin just lightly enough to draw blood to the surface. The boy from eleven could see it too. His end, or perhaps he was still blinded by hope or ambition or whatever drove him here but either way he had made his peace with whatever was about to come as he muttered something quietly to himself before he struck the girl from 8.

The girl. Blue eyed gaze turned from the boy, peering from behind her golden mask, to find her. She wasn't quite sure why she knew the girl was from eight, she was somewhat insignificant in the grand schemes of things and yet- yet she was here. Fighting among the final four three as if it was no less difficult than breathing.

Cassiopeia had never been one for the theatre. Her family were often fond of going to the afternoon picture screen or a play performed at the Snow Theatre down the street but she had always found it rather boring; nothing excited her less, it did not give her the same thrill, shock of adrenaline that fighting did.

And yet, the girl from eight danced to kill. The career paused for a second to watch her. Feet moving in unison with an unheard song, body and soul gracefully writhing to an unknown beat- her dance was enchanting as she struck down the boy from 11 with a single flick of her wrist; her dance ended with the canon fire.

Three Two.

Her whole body shifted, she felt the weight of her knife in her hand more than ever now as she turned to face the girl finally, stoic golden mask hiding the tears that slipped down her cheeks. "Looks like its just me and you now!"

Let's dance.

[Cassiopeia Shaw attacks Shelby Levaine with Hunting Knife]
R7iUqxhZknife
[2139 -- Shallow Cut on Cheek -- 3.5 damage]

♚

knife

[heather - d2 [mylee]]

Long live the queen and her kingdom
And all of her faithful men.
Call them by name and they’ll come,
Each and every one of the damned.

The boy from eleven falls, the knife wedged into his skin and sticking straight out from his back. He had never once spoken my name— likely he did not know it. Likely he did not wish to dance with me or be on the receiving end of the knife I launched in his direction. I suppose that ultimately it is unfair of me to assume absolutely anything about the boy from Eleven. I keep my eyes on him, watching the twitch of his body as the cannon fires and he goes

Still.

I am not thinking of the girl beside me or the color of the sky or constant replay of the boy’s last breath over and over in my mind. I am not thinking of anything.

“Looks like it’s just me and you now!”

She seems unapologetic— unafraid of the consequences whatever they might be.

I wish to be as brave as her, and with a spin on my heel I face her, extend my hand as though asking her to join me like the other two did. But with a split second and not another to spare she has caught me across the cheek with her glaive.

I draw back my hand and instead point with it to the boy lying dead beside us, “Do you know what his name was?”

Was.

As in no longer existent here or anywhere besides wherever it was that we all ended up. I suppose that like my prior assumptions, these did not and do not matter much. Nothing here matters much— whether the thought was formulated in the mind of the dead or the dying.

Even the valiant heart and vivid mind end up quiet eventually.

[ table: rave ]

[shelby leviane attacks cassiopeia shaw; throwing knives]
gK4oob0|throwing knife
[knife deep in neck-- 9.5]

throwing knife

[ali]

♚

Come back from the future
Before we didn't fall
Can the broken sky unleash
One more sunrise for the dawn

Locked in a three way tango, death, her and the girl from eight, they danced. Metal struck against flesh without hesitation of human thought or human guilt; there was no room for such things now. There was only them and death and freedom, only one of two ways to turn and Cassiopeia did not know which way she would end up turning, at the hand of her own or that of 8.

The girls knife sliced deeply into her neck, tearing old wounds open, blood bubbling from the gash in the side of  her flame mangled neck. The breath of air from the knife secondarily passed through her lips as she clamped her hand at the river of blood which spilled in a crimson waterfall down her front. She felt the blood bubble between her fingers, warm, fleeting life passing through between the gaps.

Bitch.

Rolling her shoulders, her gaze turned to the girl, eyes narrowed from behind the mask, her other hand twitching anxiously at her knife, lips pressed into a fine narrow line as the girl from eight finally spoke, her voice a dainty as a songbirds tune but as dead as the corpses that lay at her feet. Cassiopeia stilled for a moment in the flurry to stare at the girls question as if it had just slapped her in the face. She felt her heart sink, her mind flitter back. She didn't know his name- she didn't even know hers.

With a shrug, she straightened, lowering her hand from her neck as she relaxed, preparing for the next step in their dance. "Did you?" she asked dryly as she drove her knife towards the girl.

[Cassiopeia Shaw attacks Shelby Leviane with Hunting Knife]
RVuqsYDIknife
[2021 -- Shallow Cut on Back of Head -- 4.5 damage]

♚

knife

[heather - d2 [mylee]]

Feign my own death once more
Or finish me off with the sword. I’ll
Remember the name and
Make sense of the way
Each body and thought of mine fell.

“Did you?”

She shrugs, as though there was not a dead body at her feet and there was not an air of desperation filling the space between us. It was as though there was nothing more here than a friendship ruined by a knife and a sour word.

My knife had cut deep, straight across the neck and tearing wide and long and, I had thought, with enough force to kill. But she stands tall, shoulders rolled back and a gleam of annoyance flickering in the corner of her eye.

She does not give me the dignity of a true response, but I suppose it is, like many things, not to be expected. Instead, she strikes forward with her knife and catches the back of my head, and the helmet once protecting it now hangs limply, barely attached by the left side support.

I step back, not any more damaged at the current moment in time than five seconds prior, but still I feel a pain rising in my chest and stilling at the place where my heart lies, “Why won’t you dance with me?”

I suppose there are more things to life than death and dancing in the rain, but I cannot seem to find them here. Here I can only find the consequences of past mistakes and the promise that any action carried out from here to the future would be followed by some form of regret.

When my sister fell, I did not see the girl that pushed her apologize.

She had red hair and a fire on her tongue that led her straight to a life well-lived.

If I met her now, I would tell her that I was trying to grow up to be just like her.

[ table: rave ]

[shelby leviane attacks cassiopeia shaw; throwing knives]
8Y6Z01nGthrowing knife
[deep gash on back-- 8.5]

throwing knife

[ali]

♚

It's all gone wrong
Heaven hold us
We've lost the sun
Heaven told us

Her knife makes contact with the back of the girls helmet, only just chipping at the wax protection that saves her from the cut her knife would have given to her. Cassiopeia feels her heart skips a beat, her stomach drops and the hand of death takes her hand as they tango to the beat of their hearts. She moves her feet quickly, in time with the flutter in her chest, before she is lead into the hands of the girl from eight.

She feels the girls knife against her back, slicing into her skin deeply, enough to entice a grunt from between her gritted teeth. Blood spills from her, each breath another moment of her life spills against the tiles of the rooftop beneath her feet, draining away over the edge and into the ocean that filled the arena, a silver pin drop in the world.

The girl speaks again, her voice desperate, quiet and hurt. It takes a moment for her to realize what the girl is talking about the fight. She laughs for a second, an exhale of a breath as she smirks beneath her mask. The girls question would sound to anyone else like one of insanity- who would dance in such a dire moment where either life was on the line but Cassiopeia could see it. It wasn't even mad, not even in the slightest.

"I've never been much of a dancer" She tilted her head from behind the mask, with a small sigh. "Shame really," she said simply "Your a pretty girl Eight. I wouldn't have mind having a dance with you"



[Cassiopeia Shaw attacks Shelby Leviane with Hunting Knife]
TxwaQFEcknife
[damage]

♚

knife

[heather - d2 [mylee]]

Time has told me of this;
How the music suddenly stops.
Each note is gone and indifferent; the
Rhythm is lost.

My knife catches deep, sunk into her back like the boy’s.

But she does not stutter, does not show me a sign of pain and instead laughs at the sound of my voice. Instead of shoving my inquisitive nature to the side, she embraces it with open arms and draws me in, “I’ve never been much of a dancer.”

And I believe it, for I can tell by the way her feet turn in and the way her steps seem heavy even when she tiptoes toward me. She speaks once more, enticing me with the curve of her hip and the tint of rose on her cheek, “Shame really, you’re a pretty girl, Eight.”

The music stops, and I am home once more with the identity of my heritage once more plastered upon my back. I am dancing in front of my sister as she lays in the bed, the glass of the windowpane still in place. I still stepped lightly, as though I knew that glass would someday lay there and wait for my feet to misstep.

“I wouldn’t mind having a dance with you.”

I see us at some point away from this, hands interlocked and faces hovering just inches away from one another.

I see her lips, curled back in a snarl, her knife raised above my head and cutting deep within my chest until found at the point of heart. She is now laying my body down gently, filling my ears with music and my heart once more with rhythm.

She will not dance with me now, but before she can catch me with her blade I take her hand, “If you kill me here, will you dance with me?”

Across the neck, and I am begging.

“Please.”

[ table: rave ]

[shelby leviane attacks cassiopeia shaw; throwing knives]
Zp|sEtnpthrowing knife
[shallow cut on bicep-- 3.5]

throwing knife

[ali]

♚

The world was strong
Heaven hold us
Where do we go
When it's all over

She can feel it. Just like those before her must have, she can feel it watching her every move. Every step, it steps with her, a shadow in the back of her mind as she makes a shallow cut on the base of Eight's neck. What hair remaining on the back of her scarred neck prickles with fear as a deep, primal urge begins to bubble to the surface.

She barely feels the knife graze her arm, she doesn't even feel the rush of air as the knife cartwheels carelessly through the air towards her as it leaves the girls hand. Glancing down at her arm, pin pricks of blood bloom to the surface of her skin where the knife just knicked her as it passed her by- an inch or two in another direction and maybe it would have missed.

Looking back to the girl, she finds herself startled by her request. In all the Games she had watched growing up as a child, she had never heard such a conversation between two finalists; one or the other was always begging the other to tell them whether the knew who'd killed Enigma Lane or how they could let their loved ones die. Here the girl was asking her to dance.

The girl pleaded with her and for a moment Cassiopeia was caught off guard. Please. She had heard that word a thousand times in the Games before theirs: Please, first and final words of Daria Staite, Please look after Eggy- the words of Astrid Shaw, Please don't leave me- Riven Fowley's last breath, the unspoken Please between Nash and Topaz, Please, Please, Please.

Each Please wirred in her mind, memories faded long since used surfaced and fade as the girls plea echoed in her mind.

"Okay."

[Cassiopeia Shaw attacks Shelby Leviane with Hunting Knife]
4Zsv9TyIknife
[damage]

♚

knife

[heather - d2 [mylee]]

Errant I cross these weary lands
And rest at the bank of the river—
Sleep eludes me then so perhaps ’ll
Wander back to your heart again.

I feel my bones cracking within their joints— my body is tired.

She has exhausted my heart and long laid to rest my mind at the thought of a song left unsung. She is all steel and no resolve, the anger that burns within heart but never singes flesh or sees the light of day. A single word falls from her lips without any labeled emotion matched with it, “Okay.”

I do not question her logic, for if she has promised me the time spent in dance I cannot bring myself to ask her for anything else. I have nothing else to say her, for she has brought light to the cracks in my soul by no other action than a single word spoken.

I am but a simple woman, standing strong in the face of a world that no longer listens to the sounds of the symphony.

I twirl the knife ‘round my palm and catch the hilt, brought back to the first moment I saw the girl from two in the guise of the morning light.

Her next strike comes quick, and with instinct I raise a left hand to guard what pride I had left in my own body. Her blade catches me across the forearm, and I look for an old scar torn new in the spaces of my wrist.

There is nothing left there but a gold vambrace dangling in its place and revealing a memory I had buried beneath the skin.

I am nothing but exposed in cold air, the rain pouring down and catching my cheek to remind me of the tears I should have shed— for killing Curse, Wylla, Lucas, Saummerand, and the boy from Eleven.

Perhaps for the girl from Two as well.

[ table: rave ]

[shelby leviane attacks cassiopeia shaw; throwing knives]
YIK7VN6qthrowing knife
[shallow cut on cheek-- 3.5]

throwing knife

[ali]

♚

Where do we go
When it's all over
Where do we go (go)
When it's all over

Blade against bodyguard. She can feel her fathers overwhelming presence over her as her knife makes contact with the girls vambrace as she raises her arm to protect herself. Not quick enough, Cassiopeia tells herself as the dance they turn over in their hands with their blades and their blood as their costumes continues to the beat of a drum that seems so foreign now.

No no no she begs the thing that isn't really there but that she can feel. I am not ready She begs in silence as tears well in her eyes as the fact she might lose the battle that she had believe she could have won not minutes before; hope clings to her, not ready to give up on her quite yet but it still does not stop her tears spilling down her battle scarred cheeks.

Suddenly, half of her death mask clutters to the ground, the force of Eight's blade slices through it and her cheek as it whirrs past her face through the air, cutting the part of the mask which covered her lips off with one singular curved line of fire. Cassia watches as the wax melts into the rooftop, swirling in shimmers in the pools of blood at their feet.

Half mangled face, by weapon and by fire, appears where the golden mask had hidden it just moments before, her curdled skin curled unpleasently as turns to face the girl again, eyes wide, searching for a moment to strike. Tears dribbled over and pool in the pits the fire and metal have left on her skin, her lips curling back to show her gritted teeth.

"Please." she utters the words of hundreds and hundreds of tributes before her "Tell me your name?"

[Cassiopeia Shaw attacks Shelby Leviane with Hunting Knife]
MzEVXYjgknife
[damage]

♚

knife

[heather - d2 [mylee]]

Epiphany has struck me;
Love it still I shall.

Caught across the tint of her cheek, my knife catches shallow and draws no life from her bones. She has now found herself at the same point as Saummerand, as the boy from Eleven. I am dangling her over the waters with one finger, my lips inches from her ear spewing false promises under the guise of making the time pass easy.

My sister was a proponent of the same type of love— nothing existed in her mind that she did not truly believe. I had believed my soul was made of every tall tale she told me, for there was no word that she spoke that I did not take as the definition of absolute truth. She was a savior in the place of a world gone cold; she was the sound of the first note of my favorite song.

“Please, tell me your name.”

But she does not give me the time to remember before catching me once more with her knife, the blade crossing my calf and drawing small droplets of blood. I shove her away, putting distance between our bodies while trying to think of how to tell her that I am nobody worth remembering, especially in the wake of death.

With mind turned over once— twice— I step back to her and kneel in front of her. Taking the collar of her shirt in my left hand, I bring it forward until I’m looking directly at her with no space for error, “If you really want to know, my name is Shelby Leviane.”

I let go gently, hoping that she will find the strength to stand, I take knife in hand once more and hope that I will have to do no more to this girl than was necessary, “And for the record— if it matters much anymore— I am sorry.”

I will always be sorry— apologies will never stop leaving my lips.

[ table: rave ]

[shelby leviane attacks cassiopeia shaw; throwing knives]
csOrOWnKthrowing knife
[shallow cut on stomach-- 4.0]

throwing knife

[heather - d2 [mylee]]

             SHELBY LEVIANE

"Sunrise is going to come,
all you have to do is wake up.
The future has been
at war, but it's coming home so soon."

Lingering here still
Under the guise of finality, I have
Now come to realize
The moral of the story.
I have torn all the corners and
Lost still my place. I’ve
Straightened the pages
Until they hardly remain.
No gentle hands here still
Remain—
I have lost them to war—
Still they tremble and quiver and
Evoke bullet and trigger.

My heart might then stop,
Yearning for that sweet taste that
Sours as soon as
I have found new fears to face.
Surely then I will know
To call the dead man by name and
Elicit spare change for his hopes and his praise.
Regarded then still as a
Saint of some sorts, I’ll
Hold to my name and
Each letter torn.

Lies are not labelled as such if
Borne with grace or lost faith or if
You love them as truth, but perhaps
Lust is then lost if
Either is for the other confused.

Vainly I’ll stand here now
In front of my heart
And I’ll tell you the story
Not of its start, but rather how
Eternity finally fell apart.

My knife falls gently across her stomach— gentle enough to be mistaken as a caressing touch or an inability to commit to harm of any kind— and she staggers away from me. It had not been the violent hits tearing torn flesh deeper, or the shrill tone of words better left unsaid. No, the girl from Two had fallen simply by feather light touch.

As she stumbles backward, I find myself caught for a split second, as though the world has stopped me here and denied me of the opportunity to even attempt to stop the inevitable. I am yet to learn her name, and still the same has come to pass because she is now dead and I am dying and the only name I’m left to know is my own.

She keeps moving away from me, away from the knife that delivered the dying wish and all the horrors she would ever be left to face, and the sting of her fear cuts deeper than any pain she had dealt me thus far. Perhaps it is not fear at all— I cannot reason logically that this girl is afraid of anything other than herself, but still, I try to catch her. I reach out with grasping hand and keep my eye trained upon her wrist, but the pale skin vanishes before I can take hold and I find myself hovering over the edge, watching her fall from the rooftop with no last regrets lingering on my tongue.

I wonder if she is my sister, come back to greet me now.

Alone now, I am still alone.

Fifty-two people all volunteering their lives away and I had to be the one to be deemed a liar. I had believed myself to be more righteous than this, but here in the rain, I feel as though all last remaining shards of my soul have been washed away. Here I stand now, an empty shell of a girl with a note in her pocket and a heart at risk of being torn out of her chest.

An empty body, twenty-four ribs and a hollow chest.

I have built this kingdom myself, but now, standing at the precipice of it all, it is much less magnificent. It is no longer illuminated by the sunrise each morning but attempting to overthrow it— unable to accept the fact there is a world beyond it that can exist independently.

I do not want to stay here, but I do not know where I will go.

Crawling back to the center of the roof, I find myself on my knees once more, and with eyes turned upward toward the skyline, I wait for the rain to wash me away.

But the storm has stopped, and the thunder has ceased.

There is no bout of luck and lightning to come and kill me by accident.

Kneeling there, dripping with rainwater and the blood of six others, I pull the note from my pocket and read it aloud:

“My dearest Cha,

I will be seeing you soon. Your heart and ways have come to my own state of mind and I can no longer bear the weight of existing concurrently with them. I would like to apologize for not seeing your perspective in these matters, and I look forward to discussing them with you when the time arrives. I hope you have now found the world you are looking for, and are residing there with newfound peace. I hope there is a place for me there as well.

Until sunrise, my sister,
Shelby Leviane

Every sentence is a burden and I myself compose the whole. I have left my sister once more to turn over in her grave and rot, flesh turned to the earth around her with only her bones to vouch for the existence of even her body.

The rain has stopped, but the first tear catches my cheek as I realize that every word I have spoken here was nothing more than falsification of a life I did not wish to live. There were six others here willing to take my life and I could not find the bravery within my own body to let them do so. How shameful, how foolish, how disappointing that I am going to step out of this place with nothing to my name but fifty-two bodies and a bleeding heart.

I crumple the letter in my hand but do not let it stray from my grasp as I bring myself to two feet. I turn to the edge where the girl from Two did fall, and I turn my eyes upward to the sky that has now become nothing more than the place where we once did lie.

The sky begins its final revolt— first taking its clouds away and then beginning to lose all color from its cheeks completely. Darkness begins to swallow me whole, and just before it can wrap its arms around me, a beacon of light comes down to rest just over my body. I gasp, my body illuminated once more as it finds the reality of leaving this place, and I can do nothing more here but whisper, “Until sunrise, my sister.”

♔ End of the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games ♔

T H A N K Y O U

Oh, wow. I am still in all different kinds of shock. This has been an absolute adventure and through all the highs and lows I would not change a single thing. I am so grateful for the support and love and congratulations that I have gotten from absolutely everyone, and I know that anything I say here will definitely not encompass all the gratitude I am currently feeling.

(But I’m going to try.)

Ali: Thank you for being an incredible partner in this finale. I was very excited to be in it with you when it began, but I am even more grateful that the two of us ended up going toe-to-toe. Cassiopeia was a beautiful character, and I am very lucky that I got to write with you and her. I am very thankful for our friendship, and I hope to write with you in a lot of different circumstances in the future.

Dars & Tristen: I had to put you two together or you’d fight over who went first. Thank you both for you unending support and love, and for always welcoming me home with open arms no matter the circumstances. If I had to choose who I want to both bury me and bring me back to life, I would definitely choose the two of you.

Rook: Man, I don’t really know where to begin. You have been one of the most important people to me here for so long, and I don’t know how you’ve done it. Thank you not only for encouraging me as a writer, but for being by my side as a person through all the highs and all the many lows. You have an incredible heart, a brilliant mind, and one of my favorite senses of humor. Please never stop being who you are, as I don’t know what I would do if you did. I love you man, get ready for them Patricia x Shelby threads.

Pogue: Wow, wow, wow. I was over the moon to begin with when you gave me the opportunity to write Shelby as an accent to what I still consider to be the best character on this site. You have given me so much inspiration as a writer and as a person, and I have been so honored to call you my friend all this time. We have both struggled, and together we are both still here. I look forward to calling you my friend for a very long time— I love you.

Aya/Lalia: Thank you both for running a games that I felt very much in sync with. This is the first games in a long time that I have simply kicked back and written, and much of it was due to y’all. Thank you for giving us all the opportunity to take part in an incredible event, and for also running it very smoothly. Thank you for encouraging creativity, for always being patient with questions and concerns, and for just being the two of you.

Kay: Mom!! Thank you for kind of dragging me by my shirt collar into adulthood and never apologizing for it. I am so thankful to have a friend who loves dogs as much as I do and shares pictures of her own like the saint you are. Thank you for teaching me how to be a better person, and how to carry myself as I have long wished I would here. I am very grateful for our friendship and I cannot wait to see what else it brings.

Aza: Um? You wig-stealing son of a bitch, I love you. Wylla was incredible, and that in itself is an understatement. Thank you for your humor, your ability to make me laugh when I’m crying, and your constant encouragement. You told me third time was going to be a charm, and goddamn, I guess you were right. All in all, I adore you, and I cannot wait to write you like 10x more than we already do. I’ll give you back your wig, but just this once.

Lance: My favorite other punner, what would I do without you? Thank you for writing Lucas, and in turn, having a massive impact on Shelby as a whole. Our mandate was hands down in my top three favorite threads, and I am so sad that that had to be the way things went down. Your writing is so beautiful, and I adore writing with you any chance I get.

Arc & Dee: Thank you both for making the finale what it was. It was an honor to write with both of you, and I look forward to doing more with you both in the future. Arc, I have adored you since I met you, and I forever consider you one of my favorite people. I am so thankful to have seen you grow as a writer and a person, and I look forward to seeing everything else you accomplish. The best is yet to come, my friend.

Arrows: I think you get to say that you told me so. Post-70th finale, I was feeling very down and out, and you told me then that you would see the day I got a victor. As much as I hate to say it, you were right. We had a bit of a falling out, but I am very grateful that we have both moved past it and are continuing to grow as friends. I cannot wait to thread Kirito and Shelby— it’ll definitely be a hell of a read.

Rave, Python, Elegant, Nyte, Arx, Ghosty, and Briar: Y’all. Oh my goodness. Thank you for being a group of friends I am very lucky to have back. I said and did some awful things and though y’all had every excuse to never speak to me again, here we are. I think Ele put it best last night: “We've always been here mylee but it seemed like u needed a bit of space. We are like a closet full of weird science experiments u kind of wish u never made. BUT WE HERE” And boy, oh boy, am I glad that y’all are. Meme together, friends forever. Also thank you Ele for both of these absolutely gorgeous tables!

Kousei: Thank you for not only being an incredible writer and friend, but for loving Shelby more than I did at many times. Your encouragement has meant the world to me and more, and I am very lucky to call you someone I love and trust. Your writing has skyrocketed as of late, and I truly hope I get the opportunity to see and read much more of it. I love you, keep on keepin’ on.

Jorg: Thank you for the vagina whale! And not only that, but everything else that you do. You always keep me in a happy mood, and I am very much looking forward to finishing our Curse x Shelby mandate (hopefully within the next week). You are such a pleasure to be around, and you’ve been here since the very beginning (almost six years!!) You’ve got the biggest heart, and I am so thankful that I’m able to call you a close friend.

Cato & Ems & Kire & Tom: Thank you all for your congratulatory comments and encouragement after the finale. I am very blessed to know all of you and call you friends. I look forward to hopefully writing with all of you in the future.

P.S. If I missed anyone, please just know that your kind words and thoughts did not go unnoticed or unappreciated. I feel so loved, and for that, I am so grateful. This site has been a home for almost six years now, and I am so excited to say that six games and three finales later, I get to close a games off. To all fifty-one of you who made this games what it was, thank you. You have made this story one I hope to tell for a very, very long time.

P.S.S. Also Zoe who is my love and my heart and I can't believe I didn't include her name until now. Seriously, I love her more than anything else in this world ok. I would leave my significant other for her and her writing.