{The Grand Finale}

[cinder]

She had failed. The lights dancing in Dru's eyes dimmed as the three words seized her very being, grabbing a hold on her and not letting go. Failure, she was a terrible Career, a morbid human being and a she had failed as a sister to Aranica. She had meant to make things easier for the younger girl, so that when she went home at least she had known that it was not Dru she had killed, but the clouds that had commandeered her sisters body. It would still be a hard thing to get over, but she had faith in Ara's shining outlook on the world. One day she would realize it was all for the better, she would grow up and have a rock garden and get over it.

One day Dru would be a distant, fading memory in the mind of an old woman with a curtain of greying hair and eyes that spoke to you, communicating all the secret thoughts and opinions of the world. Aranica listened to the earth around her, therefore she could change it for the better. Dru knew that. Not that she cared much for changing the world, but with all the money and fame of a Victor on her side, Aranica could conquer Panem, she could do as she pleased and be happy doing it.

The Victor could erect a statue of stone, portraying Dru and herself during their final minutes. Minutes. That word! So little time, it did not seem like enough, not fair. Life was not fair though, Dru should have come to accepted this long ago. The thing was she had, it was just a rebellious streak acting up in her mind, whining about the inevitable. Some called it hope, Dru called it lunacy. She was a realist not an optimist. (You can snort at the very idea of her being an optimist, its alright Dru herself did)

Suddenly, so suddenly though Aranica was lashing out, pointing her gun at Dru and pulling the trigger like an expert. Dru smiled at her cheerily, trying to be brave for the both of them. She was impressed. Aranica had weakened the vest and was now aiming for a weak spot--her calves. They were already a bloody mess, Dru looked forward to having cleaned and stitched up by the Capitol if she lived. If she died, she could always be buried in a long dress, much as that disgusted her. (Dru and long dresses don't click, if you catch my drift)

The strange part of all of this was that strangely Dru was not feeling as much physical pain as she had expected. It was like her head was so filled up with the writhing, chest-tightening pain of fighting Ara, that it had forgotten to keep tabs on her body's welfare. Dru thanked her mind for being so one-tracked and deciding to ignore the lesser of two pains, for once.

Her blue eyes were filled to the brim with un-shed tears and turning an almost turquoise color, although Dru had no way of knowing this. Maybe Aranica noticed, maybe the viewers were speculating about it right now. Maybe her father was anxiously calling a doctor right now, asking if this was a normal occurrence or if his darling, dictator-daughter was just about to die of some rare disease anyways. She swam toward Aranica slowly, circling the girl like a wary shark. Curious to see what Ara did next, but also nervous it would be something bad. Well, anything bad for Dru was good for Aranica, right? That was the way she would have to think of her injuries now. They were marks that meant she was winning.

Dru pulled the dart out and flicked it over her shoulder, like she had the last one. Why was she doing this? Nobody sane would understand. Even Dru was rolling her eyes at her childish, almost reason. Truth was Dru was outraged. If she could not keep Ara all to herself, then why should Ara get to keep all these darts. Dru would die alone, Ara would live with many friends. Yeah, because that totally made sense. Thanks a lot, universe.

Stop being such a drama queen and attack the girl if you're so frustrated by her! Dru almost did retaliate, but Aranica's words stopped her. They clicked in her brain, as easy a statement to understand as the 'sky is blue,' (when there aren't Clouds covering up the whole sky.) or 'grass is green.' She nodded her head in agreement, incapable of a more intelligent response. Could you blame her? When Ara was coaxing the words from her mouth, when they were fighting until only one was left standing--excuse me--swimming?

Dru looked down into the water of the ocean, fascinated by her blood and unwilling to attack Aranica just yet. Truth be told she would never be ready to willingly cut small Ara to pieces, but she had to do what needed to be done. She still stalled pretty well, circling Aranica all the while. There was a glimmering shape down in the water, floating. It looked like a sea-creature, but so far there had not been anything in the water around them. Nothing alive. Dru peered down at it and slowly smiled. A camera, they were shooting footage of Aranica and Dru from below.

The reassurance that somebody was watching and somebody cared reminded Dru of her ultimate task. The Capitol was watching, smile pretty, Dru. Death was the whole point of these Games and Dru had admitted to herself on more than one occasion. She had to act the part she had assigned herself. She could not back out of a sworn oath now. Okay, she had back-stabbed people before, before the Games had even started, but that was when there weren't cameras everywhere she went. That was when there was no Ara to keep her mildly civilized.

Actually, come to think about it, Aranica was not doing too good a job of keeping Dru civilized. She grinned at the memories of all her wild, reckless kisses, fights and arguments over the past week or two. They all seemed to be so far back in time. Even Semper's death she had managed to forget for just a little while. Dru and Ara lived in a separate universe until these Games ended, that much Dru knew to be true.

So with a sigh akin to one you hear escaping the mouth of an over-worked, under-paid worker of the Districts, Dru started to advance on Aranica. She smiled pretty, for the cameras and for Aranica too. Nothing flashy, not too many teeth sticking out, Dru was going for reassuring, heartbroken sister, not creepy killer. This had gone on too long, it was crueler to stall this fight than it was to come at Aranica hard and fast. It was like when you take your pet dog to the vet to have it put down (or as Dru liked to say, using her blatant, casual vocabulary, 'when you take your dog to the vet and have it killed') Anyways, you aren't supposed to take too long saying one last good-bye with tears, blubbered words that nobody really understands and fake smiles. You're supposed to just end it all.

A Mercy-Kill. Dru would be merciful by being ruthless. And I'm back, making absolutely no sense as per usual. It feels nice to be in my body again... Dru mused silently. For a little while, she had almost believed herself. Yet again she was brought back to the funny idea that when these Games were over, if she lived, Dru should become an actress.

ATTACKS ARANICA [dice=156+3653000]

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[semper]

If you're reading this
My Mama's sitting there
Looks like I only got a one way ticket over here[/color]

Everything was happening in a blur: first Dru had come at him, but before he even had time to recover, Ara was bringing a knife to his side. It was as if time had stopped, forcing him to feel agony to such a degree that it almost made him wish he were dead. His heart was beating erratically, causing more blood to pour from the wounds that littered his body. The boy tried to continue treading water, but the searing pain was just too much. He couldn't handle it any longer. Clamping his hand to the wound on his side, gradually turning over onto his back, floating so he could somewhat rest.

War was just a game we played when we were kids

Semper knew he was dying. His body had become so beaten up and battered that it had confused him as to why he had survived for so long. The human body could endure so much, and yet he was at his breaking point. His breathing had become slow and jagged while he spit out blood into the already-red water. Most of the blood in the water was his -- the life-giving crimson liquid that had kept him alive for so long was now all around him, constantly reminding him that he was on death's door. The little girl that had exterminated Ree had also delivered his deathblow, and though his own life was about to end, he wasn't mad at Aranica. Why should he be angry with her? There was nothing he could have done to avenge himself; he was much too weak, and besides, there was nothing waiting for him back home in District 5 other than a rundown farm and his siblings -- his siblings. What were they thinking as they were watching him die? Were they sitting in front of the old, fuzzy-screened TV, begging and crying for him to get back up? Probably, but as he tried to lift himself from the back floating position, he found it next to impossible. It was physically exhausting, also, causing his heart to beat wildly and desperately to continue circulating what little blood was left in his veins to allow him to live a little bit longer -- but for what? Semper was going to die alone. No one to offer him comforting words as he left the world or to tell him that he would be missed once he was gone. Nothing but the waves around him and the distant storm would be with him while he was silently slipping from the world. 'So this is why people look for love so early....' He thought. 'It's so that they don't gotta be alone in times of need -- in times of dying...'

So lay me down
In that open field out on the edge of town

[/color]

Reaching up with a shaky, bloody hand, Semper held on to the tokens of his fallen allies, Ree and Papero. It was a stupid thing, really, to have taken their tokens -- but it had given him a reason to continue. A reason to fight to the death for survival. It had tore him apart on the inside to watch them die, but in the end they were all dead, and soon he would join them, wherever they may be. 'They're in heaven.... in the place that Mama told us stories 'bout all the time.... in that place where there ain't no more worry, pain, sorrow, anger... all gone, it's all gone....' Grabbing tightly onto the tokens, he tore them off by jerking and breaking the necklace, his hand trembling uncontrollably. Slowly, ever so slowly he opened his hand, watching as first Papero's key fell from his bloody hand, dropping into the water. Ree's hair clip, which was covered in his blood, slid through his fingers and into the water; the only item left to remind him of her -- gone. And finally, his own token. On it was a person riding a horse, called the "End of the Trail". 'I guess this is the end of my own trail....' The silver token slowly slid down his crimson colored hand, eventually falling down into the waves, never to be found again.

And know my soul
Is where my Mama always prayed where it would go[/color]

Semper, gasping for air, laid his head back against the water, his half-blind gaze staring blankly up at the darkened sky. Funny how the Gamemakers decided to change the weather to fit the final battle..... thunder, lightning, gloomy atmosphere. It suited it well.

Every beat of Semper's heart was a desperate battle to stay alive, pumping out the remaining supply of his blood. However, as the end was drawing nearer, the sky wasn't growing darker -- it was getting lighter. Brighter, and brighter, and brighter....

"Semper..."

Even in his nearly-dead state, he recognized the voice. His dull eyes focused above him, seeing the faint outline of Ree hovering over him, her skin clean and scar-less, and her clothes untattered.

"Ree...!"

Semper's exclamation was inaudible to everyone but her; she had heard him fine.

"Ree... I'm s-so sorry'...."

She smiled, putting a finger over his lips to keep him quiet. Her eyes were as lively and caring as ever, brighter than the ever-growing light around him.

"Come on; it's time to go home."

Ree extended her hand to him, smiling down at him. It was time to leave this hell hole known as the arena; time to leave the world he knew behind and leap head-first with Ree into the unknown. District 5, Panem, Ara, Dru -- all of it left behind.

Semper reached up, holding onto Ree's hand as she pulled him upward.


Brighter, brighter, brighter.....



then peaceful.

Upside down hands on the shoulders. Lightning bolts running down the back legs. A circle around one of the eyes.

Setting the wooden carved horse on the horizontal knife blade, Semper then set the blade on top of the pile of wood chips. Even if the Gamemakers thought that his carving was stupid, it meant a lot to him. Each marking stood for something that he knew he would need in the arena to survive -- but if he didn't survive, at least he would know that he left the Gamemakers wondering about the little galloping horse.

If you're reading this,
I'm already home.[/color]





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[WT]

((OOC- Oh, eew, eew. With the exception of maybe the last full paragraph onward, this is without a doubt my worst Ara post all thread. This is horrendous. I'm so sorry. DX I promise to make up for it with the next one.))

Dru's face became cheerful as Ara shot the second dart forward, and the younger girl did her best to return the favor. It was hard, but she thought she managed a pretty good smile- not as cheery as she would like, because she kept having to remember to pull the corners back up, but still not too bad. Dru's was better, of course, but then, that was the nature of them; Dru the mentor, Ara the eager mentee. Another way in which they were opposites- but then, even Dru must have once had a mentor, so maybe in this case it was more like Ara was an echo.

Aranica shook herself as well as she could while hampered by the water. She had to focus on Dru- and that meant watch what Dru was doing, not think about Dru.

There was another dart gone. The remaining ones wailed, and the gun hushed them like a comforting parent, even though it was shuddering in her hand just as much as they were. Ara patted it gently with two fingers, but said nothing; there was no comfort she could give about things she didn't fully understand, particularly not while she was in a similar mental state hersel-

Those couldn't be tears in Dru's eyes, could they? Aranica stared, her mouth unhinging and falling just the slightest bit open in shock before she managed to catch it. That one moment, seeing Dru on the edge of crying, broke her heart almost as badly as the fact of the fight itself. This was what the Games did; they took their players and smashed them, whatever they had to do to get there. They made people do the worst things possible, up to and including fighting their true love, until even the strongest gave some sign of weakness, of breaking.

Her opponent turned away then, and though Aranica wanted to take the opportunity to fire another dart, she couldn't just attack without warning of provocation. Instead she watched, treading water cautiously to keep herself still. What was going through the older girl's mind? Some kind of battle, no doubt. Ara wondered who was winning. Dru nodded, apparently in response to Aranica's words, which fueled the District Twelve tribute's hope a little more. Dru was strong. If anyone could beat clouds, it was her.

Of course, it was possible that they were unbeatable, because Dru had just sighed and started swimming forward.

Dru stopped speaking (were the clouds taking over fully again?), so Ara stopped, too. She had nothing to say to a cloud-assassin that she hadn't made clear, and when it came right down to it, she had already said everything to Dru, too. They understood each other's love and each other's thoughts without any of these word things. Dru understood that Ara was trying to free her, and Ara understood that Dru was only raising the falchion because of the clouds, and that whatever bit of Dru had managed to fight past the assassin would do her best to kill her mercifully rather than drag it out like the clouds would.

That piece of Dru must not have been big enough (or maybe it was a little too big), because in a few moments Aranica and all of Panem got the wonderful privilege of seeing Dru the Limb-Slicing Angel live up to her name.

Aranica screamed as the falchion swept through her, a wordless sound of excruciating pain. She had been remarkably lucky these Games, so lucky that at times she hadn't even believed it; she was paying for that now, paying with blood and bone and contest. And her arm. Luckily, she didn't have to look at the thing for very long; it dropped into the water and floated away, perhaps sinking, perhaps floating. She didn't care, because she didn't want to watch it. Seeing Alba's arm and then Jango's had been bad enough, but it was worse when it was hers. Or at least, she thought it was. She was so overloaded with mental and now physical pain that she honestly wasn't sure.

Ara, keep going.

The rock managed to spare just a moment from its fight with the clouds to talk to her before slamming its essence back against them. She smiled for just an instant, half-sentimentally and half-ironically. She was touched by the fact that it tried to help, but didn't it know that there was no such thing as 'going on' after this? Even if Ara defeated the cloud-assassin, that meant killing Dru in the process, and if she did that... well, she didn't know exactly what it would do to her, but she certainly wouldn't be the same. She was only an honorary rock, not a true one- she didn't belong with them any more than she did with most humans. Rocks, you could cut those into as many pieces as you wanted without ever hurting or upsetting them; they did it all the time in the mines. Dru and Ara weren't like that, either on their own or as an entity. Both of them were kind of in need of all their limbs, and both of them needed the other if there was any chance of them being whole. They were like a plant in that respect- cut them too much, and both the cutting and the remaining pieces would wither and die...

This train of thought wasn't going anywhere pretty. Aranica gritted her teeth and went back to thinking about her arm- or rather, what was left of it.

It didn't hurt as much anymore. Maybe it was going numb from being wet and raised to the cold wind; maybe she was going into shock; maybe she

Dru. It was all about her. Had this happened a few minutes ago- only minutes? It felt like days, years- the tension was stretching the time out, which would make her happy if Dru wasn't cloud-possessed but only made her upset now. Anyway, if Dru had sliced off her arm a few minutes ago, Aranica would have been happy, because the more limbs she lost the closer Dru was to going home. This, though- pah. All this meant was the clouds were fighting back through Dru again, and that did not make Ara one bit happy. It made her sad beyond belief- and now, with extra pain and adrenaline raging through her, it also made her angry.

Raise, aim, finger on the trigger, pull. The motions were fluid now, no longer awkward and ungainly like they had been the first few days. She was better with this dart gun, now, than Dru ever was- but that was okay, because Dru was better at using the falchion than Aranica had ever been. It was funny, really. The two of them, facing each other down with the weapons they had given each other for exactly that reason- because each of them had known when they made the trade that their weapon would be better for the other. In trying to help each other, both of them may have brought their own doom upon them.

Scratch that. Hadn't Ara just figured out a couple minutes ago that there could be no winners here?

In meeting each other, both of them had brought their own doom upon them.

[dice=87+1589000]

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[cinder]

The people of Panem did not have the simple pleasure of watching cartoons early on a Sunday morning. In fact, people did not watch much television to begin with, only mandatory Capitol broadcasts like the Hunger Games. Dru was pretty much the closest thing to a cartoon Panem had ever seen when that dart made contact with her rear end. She yelped and jumped three feet out of the water for Gods sake (actually she said something very vile before then. Starts with 'mo' ends with 'er') Dru bit her tongue until she was quite sure she was about to make herself bleed. Why did she bite her tongue? Of course Dru did so because just a few moments ago Aranica Petros had cursed, sending Dru into a Mentally Confused Breakdown Mode. Where had such a sweet, young lady heard such a terrible and inappropriate word? Oh, yeah, Dru must have said it at least twenty times since entering the Arena.

If she went down after all of this acupuncture in the wrong (very painful) places, Dru did not want people to remember her as the Limb-Slicing, Cursing Pirate who tainted the mind of an innocent child. The tainting the mind part was fine with her, Dru was pretty sure Aranica was way too far down that road to stop now, but the cursing pirate part bothered her. It simply was not charming for ladies to curse all the time. Actually to tell the truth Dru was fine going down in history as that girl, but she still did not like the idea of Aranica cursing. 'Nough said.

Now that Dru had properly register her pain, and Ara's new vocabulary word, she was turning most of her attention to the one-armed wonder. She had to watch her carefully, for even with a limb severed Aranica was deadly. It made her proud to see her being so brave. "Keep it up, Ara!" she cried out to the girl in a rushed, cheery tone. Really, she had no right to speak when Dru Charlesburg had just caused such unimaginable pain.

That, my friends is what happens when Miss Charlesburg aims above the belt. Gone were the petty scratches on armored legs, she was getting down to business. One more arm gone and Aranica would not be able to swim. She could swipe her blade across Aranica's neck, or humanely skewer her. Of course she had to get this dart out of her Royal Hiney. It was agonizing work, just swimming a little ways from Aranica and her arm.

Dru made it a few feet away, struggling against the force of the storm and the throb of injuries exposed to salt water. She reached one hand back and briskly went ahead and pulled the dart out.

And that, my friends, is when Dru threw up. She didn't even bother to try to direct the stuff away from her. There was sweat, blood, tears and snot all over her already, why not mix in some hurl? She was betting that with her face-mask on, and the crimson fluid surrounding her, Dru Charlesburg looked nothing like Dru Charlesburg. She was a living corpse, one that had not even been cleaned up all nice and pretty for the burial service yet. If she had time to, Dru wanted to take this mask off before she died. Maybe she should ask Aranica to do that, but she doubted Ara would be able to support the weight of her body. If Dru turned around right now to find Aranica drowning, it would not astonish Dru.

At this point in time, what would? She was a seasoned Tribute, and a Career at that. Dru turned around and felt herself die a little on the inside as she assessed the damaged body of Aranica Petros. She was a skin-and-bones, bleeding, incomplete version of the girl Dru loved, but she was still fighting hard. That was all that mattered. She looked back on her earlier comment, when Dru had brightly suggested Ara 'just keep swimming!' Everything would be alright if she just kept swimming. Dru sobbed a little bit.

To Hell with her image as being the ice-cold, unfeeling half to their whole. Dru could join her image in Hell soon enough, when she was dead. For now she would encourage Ara as best she could. "You need to fight, Aranica! Kill them, the clouds... before they take control!" Dru choked up a bit at the end, blamed it on the salt water but knew it was tears and not ocean water that was turning her voice into a trembling, throaty sound. "And know that 'love you no matter what, k, Hun?"

That's when Dru allowed her mind to shut down. Her face smoothed out, hell even her turning-turquoise-by-the-minute eyes were blank. For she was advancing, ready to destroy the thing she loved most. Dru Charlesburg was the limb-slicer, but right now she was none too sure whether she was severing just a part of Aranica, or cutting away at her own 'essence.'

A question like that was way too hard for a fried brain to answer as Dru swam forward, falchion held in front of her. She was just trying to smile--failing miserably, for the record--and be brave for the love of her life. Still Drusilla taunted her, calling Dru awful, but true things. If she were trying so hard to make life easier for Aranica, why was she hacking off limbs? Was Dru a black-hat pretending to be a white-hat? Yes, Drusilla purred. Yes, Dru was just a selfish, immature child who wanted to go home to her mommy and daddy. She did not give a damn for that which she claimed to love so much.

Dru cast an annoyed, mental glare in the general direction of where Drusilla was lounging in her head. She just wanted that voice to shut up and leave her to wallow in her own pain, but the girl did have a point. How could she prove that her love for Aranica was real? How could she look Ara in the eye and genuinely think, I'm doing this for you, child. I am trying to make your life easier. The truth was she wasn't, and now Dru wished she were like Arbor Halt of District Twelve. She wanted to be blind so she did not have to face up to her crimes.

If she survived today, Dru would stab her own eyes. She swore to herself she would do it. Maybe then everybody would know that she thought more of Aranica Petros than she had of any other being, human or not. But now she was sounding like Semper Capone, dedicating future violent acts to the love of her life. What a copy-cat move! Instead, Dru swore to herself she would do anything she thought Aranica might have done. And suddenly she knew what to dedicate to the girl.

The tears running down her face, mixing will the ocean, holding conversations only Aranica could hear. They were for Ara, they were the unspoken words Dru B. Charlesburg wished she had taken the time to tell Aranica during the length of the Games. Because honest to God, it sounds stupid, but in the end its the little things that count. Dru advanced on Aranica, wiped that wannabe-smile off her face and tried her best to look like a menacing Cloud Assassin. Maybe then Aranica would find the energy required to fuel her fire and bring Dru to her metaphorical knees.

No time to make mistakes, no time to do anything but lash out at Aranica. She would have to make it a real blow, that was the only way Aranica would believe this act. If it was real, she would attack Dru, if not Ara would look from her stub to Dru's face and think to herself that she was already dead. She would shoot herself in the head with that cursed blow gun. So she had to make this count, Dru had to replace her wannabe smile with a sickeningly sweet one that screamed danger.

And she had to swing her falchion in the direction of Aranica Petros. What the hell other choice was there, you tell me.

ATTACKS ARANICA [dice=156+3653000]

ooc- >.< Bad post...

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[WT]

((OOC- I feel so awful, basically ignoring poor Semper. DX Ara's mad at me for making her let him die alone... oh dear... *hugs him* This thread is just plain old painful, and way you slice it. DX

And no, Cinder, that was lovely. =3 'Sides, no matter how awful you think it was, this thread is epic enough to instantly make anything awesome. Well, anythign except the Semper's death, or the girls' death(s)... *prays to Ripred that that last one is a long time coming*))


Aranica winced and cried out as her sister propelled herself out of the water. She didn't even notice the cursing (rocks knew she had already learned anything Dru had to teach her by now, anyway); she was far too preoccupied with anxiety and guilt. If she had to do this, she wanted it to be quick. She wanted to do exactly the same for Dru as Dru was trying to do for Ara, and make things as painless as was possible in such a painful scenario. She didn't want to hurt Dru, she wanted to help her, and if the Career's cries were anything to go by, Ara wasn't doing much to help her. Watching Dru try to take the dart out of her backside wracked her with almost as much guilt as killing Ree or Jango or Semper or Shanks; at least they had all died quickly, if not painlessly (there was always suffering in a Games death, but it was nice to keep it to a minimum if possible).

Of course, they were all dead now, and Dru was alive, so though it pained her to admit it, they were all irrelevant. They had never mattered- nothing had ever mattered, not the sun or the sky or the very earth they stood on. When worse came to worst and push to shove, the only things that might have once mattered were the rocks that had taken Aranica in and given her a place to belong. Even then, in the face of the two tributes floating here- the only two who were truly important at all here- it was doubtful.

And yet, Dru was fighting to stay brave, to stay happy. Like Ara had done during the Bloodbath, she was doing her best to smile and cheer the girl on. Keep it up, Ara!

Aranica laughed, literally threw back her head and laughed. It tapered away quickly into hysterical giggles, then turned into an odd hiccuping-choking noise, but still, she laughed. Maybe Dru's habit of finding funny things in morbid situations was rubbing off on her, because that comment was just... it was funny! Dru, of all the people in the world, was telling Ara, or all the other people in the world, to keep making a good effort to kill her. Where was the logic in that?! Ara had spent almost the entire Games thinking nothing made sense, but that one, she decided as she shook her once-more-somber head, definitely took the cake.

And them, just to add a little more nonsense to the pile, Dru was throwing up. Dru, who had seen arms severed and pulled projectiles out of her skin before, who had always seemed so strong and unbreakable, had just started tearing up and now she was vomiting. This wasn't funny nonsense, though- it was horrifying. For what was probably the first time in their relationship, Aranica became the one who longed to comfort the other, to reach out and stroke her counterpart's hair and tell her shh, it's okay honey, just let it all out, it'll be okay soon. She couldn't, though; her only remaining hand- oh, oww. The stump of her left arm throbbed again as soon as she thought about it, so she stopped thinking about it. Her only available hand was wrapped around the dart gun, and if she reached out with that she'd probably freak out poor Dru even more. Not to mention, there was no use lying to each other any more- they both knew that only one of them was getting out of this, and that meant that they both knew that it would not, in fact, be okay soon. Ara couldn't force the words out her mouth; the moment she opened her lips to try, her own pile of vomit flew out.

Funny- Ara had never not minded vomiting before. When she had been sick in the past, it had always made her upset, but right now it wasn't even a secondary concern- it had just been shoved off into the giant pile of concerns that didn't matter enough to compete with Dru for Ara's attention. The burn in her throat, the foul taste in her mouth, the completely disgusting sight of plant matter and stomach acid mixing with saltwater and blood- she didn't mind any of it. She barely even noticed it. Dangit, she barely even noticed her arm anymore, and next to that, this was nothing.

(Thunder. Lightning. Whatever the clouds were saying, she was able to ignore it- her rock was still fighting them, and the ocean seemed to have joined in. Bless whatever hearts inanimate objects had.)

The sound of a slight sob shocked Aranica's stomach into settling down, and she looked up. The idea of Dru sobbing was so foreign that the District Twelve child couldn't even wrap her mind around it. Luckily, she didn't really have to; Dru stopped that bit of confusing nonsense very quickly, and started speaking instead. That was her Dru, fighting through the cloud assassins once more to talk to her Aranica.

Ara nodded like crazy, her head bobbing up and down until she couldn't see straight. That made her stomach queazy again, so she stopped that, but she continued to blubber and nod just a little. "Yeah. I'll g-get you out, Dru, I'll make sure they d-don't take you, I- I'll get them for- for you. Like you'd g-get them for me. Just keep- keep fighting, yeah?" Keep fighting. That was the one thing that they were both undeniably good at, no matter what. Unless loving each other counted as a talent, which Ara didn't think so, because that was natural- it didn't require any practice, it just was. Even they were both good at combat- naturals, even- they had both had to get good at it.

Speaking of which.

Ara nodded again, but not so vehemently- partly because she had learned that lesson, but mostly because this time she was agreeing with something that was by now long-established. "I- I love you t-too, Dru," Ara managed. She was gasping sharp, panicked breaths that were half sobs and half gags, and she was choking on saltwater and her own tears (so she did have a few left, after all- that was surprising), but for Dru, she could speak. Would speak. She didn't really need to say that; Dru knew Ara loved her, it had been obvious the entire Games. But in a way, it was needed. That last affirmation, the two of them finally saying "I love you"- it was probably as close as either of them would ever come to closure.

As Aranica tried to stifle the sobs (what was this all about, if Dru was in control of herself she'd tell Ara to stop that silly crying this instant), Dru's face clouded over again. Another wordless cry of anguish escaped the little girl, eerily similar to her last scream and yet frighteningly different because this hurt more. Watching the clouds claim her friend, probably once and for all, hurt more than having her own arm sliced off. It was a pretty similar process, too- Dru had chopped off a bit of Ara then, the clouds had were chopping off a piece of her now. The only difference was in the size of the portion, and believe you me, Dru Charlesburg was a lot bigger and a lot more important than any piece of flesh and bone.

The clouds went in for the attack, with Dru directing her body just enough to make it a killing blow rather than another torturous limb-slicing. The falchion came straight forward, toward Aranica's eye; she shoved the dart gun in her teeth and used her remaining hand to grab onto Dru's wrist in a completely impromptu move that probably shouldn't have worked. It did, though- the motion of Dru's arm pushed Ara down, which meant that the girl ended up surrounded by bloody, vomit-infested waters but also that she didn't die by sword. At least, not just yet.

Ara fought her way out of the water- not too difficult, thanks to her life vest, although the thing seemed to have sprung some holes because it wasn't floating as well anymore. (She wasn't surprised- the thing had been through a lot, almost as much as the tribute wearing it had.) A bizarre mixture of ocean water and bodily fluids- her blood, Dru's vomit, her vomit, Dru's blood, her tears, Dru's tears- had gotten into her mouth thanks to having to hold it open for the dart gun; Ara grabbed the gun, then spat the disgusting liquid out so she could breath.

She had to retaliate now, before the cloud-assassins that had taken Dru got their- Dru's- balance back. Hopefully the Career girl would have enough fight left in her to keep them busy for a moment. A moment was all she needed, after all- it took her all of three or four seconds to flip the gun in her hand, point it at Dru, and put her finger on the trigger.

Aim to kill, Aranica.

She almost opened her mouth to tell the clouds to shut up (again), but the voice went on, stunning her into silence.

I don't like it any more than you do, rock-child, but there's no choice. We have to get the clouds out of her.

Even the rock agreed that the only option was to kill.

She didn't sob anymore, but the last of her tears brimmed over her eyes and down her cheeks, dripping off to mix with the rest of the concoction that had once been an open ocean. Thunder rumbled again, mocking and victorious, and as Ara pulled the trigger she sent a scream up to meet the lightning that followed.

"This is for Dru, clouds. This is for the girl I love because you will never defeat her!"

[dice=87+1589000]

[rand=10420594457536936174031786620616931038616225123405642730594612658]

[cinder]

I'm going in for the kill
I'm doing it for a thrill

Oh, so they were all going to start pulling Sempers now, were they? Dru snorted as Aranica screamed aloud, dedicating whatever happened next to Dru herself. She was speaking to the clouds, which rumbled right on time as Aranica yelled the last few words. Either the Gamemakers responsible for the storm had a fantastic sense of humor, or the clouds were actually goading Aranica. Try us! Just try to get us out of her body, you'll only end up destroying her!

Oh I'm hoping you'll understand
And not let go of my hand

Any way you put it, Dru was mildly ticked off with Aranica. She couldn't have been a little more original? She had to go and celebrate her love of Dru by destroying that which Dru loved second only to Aranica? Her body, more specifically her assets. It was a deja vu, repeat moment when Aranica aimed and fired her weapon once again. And it hit Dru in the arse once more. Luckily it was not the same exact spot, a different cheek if you really want the crude details of the awful event, but Dru ended up speaking the same exact words as she had the last time. Down to Dru hollering the two word phrase that starts with 'mo,' ends with 'er.'

I hang my hopes out on the line
Will they be ready for you in time

Of course, Aranica had just been trying to save Dru from the Cloud Assassins (yes that sounded ridiculous, thanks for pointing it out) God bless that girl, she had her heart in the right place, and after Dru had 'a chopped off her arm, Aranica had a right to be angry at those bad, bad clouds. Dru was angry at the clouds and she hadn't ever even heard them speaking. Sudden fear seized her heart though. If the clouds held such sway over Aranica, turning her into a monster akin to Dru herself, then what was it like hearing those voices all the time? And how about the ocean and air and those rocks she always seemed to be chilling with?

Why, the strain of all those voices could drive a person mad.
If you leave them out too long
They'll be withered by the sun
Just now the clouds seemed to be surrounding the girls, wrapping themselves around Aranica and Dru, providing shelter and privacy as they fought to the death. Sure, the haze was probably only thickening because there was a camera fifteen feet away, hovering the sky, that they did not want the girls to catch sight of, but still it seemed daunting and suspicious. Like maybe there was a higher power that listened to everything Dru and Ara said (besides the viewers.)

Full stops and exclamation marks
My words stumble before I start

Dru almost told Aranica, but how would she voice her thoughts, she found her tongue heavy in her mouth, incapable. Besides her physical incapabilities, how was she supposed to tell Aranica that? Was it possible to say 'maybe everybody else is insane and it's just Aranica Petros and Dru Charlesburg against the world,' without sounding corny? Still the thought haunted her. What if they were the really sane ones because they listened to the world and the world listened to them? Even now Dru supposed she heard the faintest of whispers, gentle, coaxing voices of an oceans worth of droplets of water. It was like music, she wanted to fall back into the water and let the tinkling sound of so many voices sooth her, heal her. She wanted to sleep and devote any concentration she had left to the sound of so much music. How beautiful. There was a sense of dawning wonder deep within Dru for a moment. Ara was right. That was her last revelation before Dru Charlesburg the Limb Slicer came back to her senses.

How far can you send emotions?
Can this bridge cross the ocean?

Yeah, right she had sort of lost touch with realty for a moment there, gotten overly emotional. Sentimental--yuck! Dru had felt a tug at her mind and everything that exploded in one brilliant color. Come to think of it, Dru could not recall which color it had been but she had felt simultaneously reckless and rebellious while also feeling a calm settle over her. She shook herself, violently. Debated slapping her own face, because Dru knew for a moment that if she had let herself slip a cannon would have rung out. Dru could not even think about that anymore. It was morbid and wrong.

Let's go to war
To make peace

With a half-dazed expression on her cruel, pretty face which was mostly visible beneath the mask, possibly a product of the water getting on the light colored material? (Don't ask Dru, she had almost just bee dead right then, how should she know how that had happened!) Anyways, God bless that girl. She was so strong, so skilled. Many people back home in District One would scoff at Aranica winning, claim it was rigged or that Dru had purposefully let herself die. Well, Dru was fine with them thinking that she was so compassionate and all, but it was not true. Every attack, every time she had flashed forward and whacked Ara with her falchion, it had been real. They were so evenly matched, ready for each others attack at any moment. Mirror reflections, just like Aranica had already said.

Let's be cold
To create heat

In fact, their strange bond had even led to a bizarre reflex. Both Tributes seemed to know what the other was about to do before they actually did it. Dru had sensed a dart coming at her neck, so she had thrown her chest forward, allowing the dart to half-sink into her chest instead. Dru had aimed for Aranica's heart and instead cut off her left arm. Dru had a imed for Aranica's face and the girl had blocked her, grabbing onto Dru's wrist and sending tingling sparks up and down her skin. That was probably the last time they would have physical contact.

I hope in darkness
We can see

Dru shuddered at that thought, craving the heat and love of Aranica. She wanted to just hold the girl and wait until one of them bled out. Then there would be a winner and the other would die with a soft smile on her face, because they had passed in the others arms. Or arm. Wishful thinking, Dru might as well ask for the dark clouds to disappear and the sun to start shining. While she was at it, she could ask for the return of the lives lost in the past week, the islands should rise as the sun beat down the clouds. Everybody could be together, happy. They could live on the secret islands and forget about the cameras. That would be a haven if Dru had ever heard of one. In fact, maybe that was heaven.

And you're not blinded by the light from me

Well if it were heaven Dru didn't deserve to be there so she should abandon her thoughts now and just attack Aranica. The pain in her booty was far too much too handle for much longer. The light would die out and Dru would fade, join the darkness maybe. She choked and gasped as she ripped the dart from within. Panting, shuddering, in tremendous pain Dru smiled at Aranica again. There were no comforting words this time though, because that smile was not to give Aranica strength. It was a smile that would hopefully be the last thing Ara saw, so that when her little sister died Dru would be solely comforted by the knowledge that she had died knowing Dru loved her.

I'm going in for the kill
I'm doing it for a thrill
Oh I'm hoping you'll understand
And not let go of my hand

ATTACKS ARANICA [dice=156+3653000]

ooc- Thank you La Roux

[rand=9617261580756032258321736214596691872133379730332491040635964163]

[WT]

I just want to lay myself down
Drink the illusions and let it all float away
Into the river of voices
One of them will speak and tell me where to go

Anger flashed across Dru's face, then a spasm of fear, before her expression faded into something as close to peace as either of them could manage right now. Aranica watched cautiously, wondering who was winning- her friend, or her enemy. She hadn't thought that anyone, even Dru, could have the power to fight off something as suffocatingly powerful as the clouds, but she was beginning to think it was possible. The ocean was chopping around them more violently then ever, and even the raindrops falling from the sky were screaming protest of what their parents were trying to do. If Ara listened she could snatch the occasional word out of the cacophony of voices- we, home, cloud, help, Dru, Aranica, stone, sky, air, water, we help!

Maybe Dru could win this, after all. With all the water in the area on her side, how could she not? As Dru relaxed, so did Aranica. She let herself lay forward and just float, reaching toward her friend in the hopes that the other girl would reach out and they could brush their fingers together and, for the last time in both their lifetimes, connect. Aranica could stay around long enough to help Dru fight, then put her face in the water and let her sister go home.

You really think so?

Yeah, rock. Her mental vocie was tinged with wonder. Yeah. I think that might actually work.

I packed my thoughts and visions
Headed for the light on the other side
Although consoling was a myth
The tunnel was a con
I ran - but I never turned back

No- that entire line of thought was fake. Dru's entire body shuddered, and not from the cold of the ocean they were swimming in. Not even, if Ara read the motion right (and how could she read it wrong, knowing Dru so well?), from pain or disgust of the murky water that surrounded them both.

Ara shrieked, a high sound of frustration. No, no! This wasn't fair! Every time Dru almost made it, those clouds, they- they just stormed back into her brain and tried to take over again! She couldn't come up with any words, so she thrashed around a little, ignoring the ache in her half-arm as she tried to move it. If they were on land, she would have turned and run, taking herself as far away from this monstrosity as she could- but she couldn't do that here. She couldn't turn her back on a cloud-assassin, and she couldn't swim well enough to get herself away quickly (especially now that she was down an arm). She had to stay and see this out. There was no turning away and no turning back, no matter how much she longed to run until her already-broken heart just burst once and for all.

Besides, she couldn't abandon Dru. That wasn't how they worked. They belonged together, to the point where even a hurricane made sure they were stayed with each other. They had spent every day and every possible moment together, and that wasn't going to stop now at the end, when it was more important than anytime else for both of them to make sure each that the other wasn't alone.

As if they could, she thought with a snort. They were connected; even if they were apart, their minds worked in sync. One person attacked, the other dodged instantly- not always far enough to completely avoid the dart or the sword, but enough so that they were both alive to tell the tale. Their faces changed at almost the same time as the same thoughts occurred to them; every word they spoke made sense to the other, and sometimes even their thoughts seemed to be communicable. The moment they had met each other something had sparked between them, and now there was no way to get rid of that. They would never separate- maybe not even if one of them died. Maybe they would just give their life to the other, merging into one body. They belonged that way anyway, two halves of a whole, and the world always made sure things were the way they belonged; who was to say it was impossible?

Dru smiled, gently- comfortingly, almost. Aranica grinned back. She got it. Just like always, they understood each other.

I have deported my own life
Into this foolish splendour
I have brought the beauty of a soul

The assassins swept the sword at Aranica, aiming at the place where her lef met her torso. She tried to dodge, but couldn't completely; the falchion managed to swipe her thigh, leaving behind a shallow cut that wept blood. No matter- next to the other cuts and wounds, that was nothing.

How twisted together must their blood and tears (and, yes, vomit) be now? As twisted together as their minds, their souls? If they lost enough bodily fluid, would it all start forming its own person- their bizarre child? (Dranica? Arasilla?) Maybe. Maybe not. Aranica kind of liked that idea, though. The thought that both she and Dru could live on after one of them died, even outside of each others' minds-

That idea was too good to be true. It was just the two of them, fighting each other in the cold, dark ocean, and sooner or later she had to face that.

She had to choose sooner, or she would have died.

Cold and dark as the last day
Is the image of the dream
That made it all worthwhile
In exile

Ara backed up from her sister, who floated there, beautiful and horrifying all at once like some kind of dark angel- pale, but somehow deeper and darker than the very ocean they floated in. If they were on land, Ara wouldn't have been surprised if Dru had continued to float. In that moment, seeing the smile on her counterpart's face, Ara believed more strongly than ever that Dru could do anything.

After all, Dru had already done plenty that seemed impossible. She had kept Ara safe and sane (and Ara had done the same for her as often as she could). She had made it to this last, dark, terrifying day.

She had made everything in the past week not just possible, but worth it. For all Aranica ached for her lost friends, for all that she had been through hell in the past few days, for all that this moment was tearing her soul to pieces, she was honestly glad that she had been Reaped, and that she had refused to back down from that little stage. The sight of Dru- running to her on the fourth day, smiling at Shanks in the training center, raising her falchion to Carex just yesterday- had given her the strength to keep going every night. Her friend's voice had pulled her away from the voices of the clouds, had taught her more about humanity than she had learned in the past twelve years.

This Arena might be Hell, it might be an exile from reality- but for Aranica, it was all the reality she had ever wanted.

If there is a sign out there hiding
Come to me now or forever hold your peace
You'll find me in my room in the guesthouse
Riding clouds that are hard to please

"There has to be a way," she muttered, the first words in minutes that had been spoken purely to herself; the others were all busy, unable to help her. She wracked her brains, trying to figure something out. Maybe she could appease the clouds by offering herself? She was the only one who knew just how dangerous they could be; maybe they'd rather get rid of her easily than fight it out and give her a chance. She doubted it, but her mouth and mind formed the offer anyway, both of them crying out and throwing themselves open at the same time. "You want me? Leave Dru and come get me!"

But that wouldn't work. She still needed a Plan B. But what?!

Time, that was the problem. Time, time, time- what was becoming of that precious substance? Aranica wished that she could speak to it, beg it to slow down for her so she could discover a better solution, but time was one of the only pieces of the world that she couldn't connect to or communicate with. Not even the rocks, who formed the framework of everything, could talk to something so elusive.

Dru advanced a little bit, or perhaps the ocean just pushed the two girls a little closer together. Aranica swam away, shaking her head. This was not helping matters. "Time," she muttered, praying that it would hear her and give some kind of sign that it could help. "Time..."

An impatient wave pushed her forward, making her spiral toward Dru. She shrieked for an instant, than snapped her mouth shut so none of the water-mixture would get it.

There was no such thing as time, was there?

When there is a fight I will be there
It feels so good to do what one should not do
And I play I gamble and stay
I look - but I never turn back

Just fight. She could handle that. She could handle blanking her mind like she had in the Bloodbath, pretending that she wasn't attacking people, just allowing her body to do as it would. It had been scary then, but it felt good now. It freed her mind, let her analyze the situation a little better. She still hurt, but not thinking about it made it a little less important.

The darts weren't doing it. They were large enough to cause a lot of pain but apparently too small to do the kind of damage she was after, for one. For another, there was no need to let the poor dart family go through the kind of pain Dru and Ara were experiencing. Not to mention that while the motions of firing were engrained in her arm and finger, it was hard to aim properly when you were half-blinded by pain and tears.

The last time she had used this thing as a club, she had been trying to knock Jango out and ended up killing him. The very thought made her quail, but it also lent her a bit of strength- after all, she was trying to kill this time. She had committed to that path, and once you toss dice that big, you can't catch them and put them back away. You have to wait, no matter how much you've put on the line or how agonizing it is to watch them fall, bounce, spin.

A dry sob wracked her, her body and mind reminding her that she couldn't blank things out forever. No one had ever bet something like this on dice. However little Aranica liked to give the Capitol what they wanted (which was very, very little), this was the be-all end-all of gambling- the ultimate Game.

Everything slowed down, and she managed the slightest bit of a laugh. So now you respond, huh? Now, when I've run out of time and it's way too late to figure out how to help Dru, now you try to give back what you've already taken.

Well, damn you with the clouds.

[dice=112+9531000]

Cold and dark as the last day
Is the image of the dream
That made it all worthwhile
In exile

[rand=649791710078716370749216526746755105010922998191522036027163267]

[cinder]

Early morning, dreary horizon
Aching hands are pulling a millstone

There was a dull clunk as Aranica put unimagineable force into using the blow gun as a blunt weapon. On Dru's head. For a moment she saw stars and everything came crashing down on Dru. That was it, Dru's body could take no more. Even now as she finally realized she was making the ultimate sacrifice for Aranica, her body seemed to shimmer and fade out like a ghosts. Still she managed to scramble away from her sister, but Dru had finally accepted, rather calmly for being a homicidal lunatic, that she would not survive this fight.

A numbing sensation spread out from the roots of Dru's hair, the top of her head if you will. It traveled down her back, following the familiar path of her bedraggled, wet braid which ended between her shoulder blades. The tingling feeling did not stop there though, it continued to work its way through her system. She had been jolted by the blow to her head, but it was not enough to take Dru consciously out of the fight. She was too strong. Ha! Strength was a weakness now, now when all she wanted was for that unknown color to close in around her and claim Dru, once and for all. Her body fought against death, even as it knocked on her doorstep. She had been working too hard now.

Dru felt like your average Joe. A person who had been forced to carry too heavy a burden for too long. Finally she just wanted for her body to break beneath the load. She wanted it with all of her heart, all of her might, but she would not force Aranica to look into her eyes and see this forsaken girl. Ara would come to realize that she had knocked the clouds out of Dru. She would weep and sob, try to hold her older sister up, and Dru would have no choice but to casually, carefully cut deeply into her heart. She would be quick and sneaky about it, let her falchion sift through the water gently. That was no fair though, not to anybody.

Wailing from the cart
Moaning from a shattered heart


So with a great amount of effort Dru batted away the annoying thing called death. She was starting to feel lethargic, sleepy. For what amount of time they had been battling, Dru did not know. How much longer she could keep it up, Dru had a rough estimate. Not much longer. That was what she thought, at least. Her body told her, her mind told her. Dru might as well be dead. She was a pretty, little ghost fighting an imaginary battle she would never win.

Dru certainly looked the part. Her lips were pressed tightly together and her eyes shimmered with an unnatural, blank light. The skin of her body was abnormally white, almost translucent. Her hair was a sharp contrast against the rest of Dru. Too dark, like shadows weaved together in what had once been an intricate braid and was now a sopping heap of something. Her spidery body was bleeding from too many places, the life was being pushed and pulled out of her by both Aranica and the ocean. Only the cool winds blowing ocean spray and other substances into Dru's face reminded her that although she was emotionally and spiritually a goner, her body was still suffering.

Or was it? She lost focus for a moment and all that blinding pain seemed distant. Aranica was far away from Dru now. She could only work up the courage to whisper the youthful girls name. She let it come forth like a hiss, repeating it and tasting the feel of her counterparts name on her lips. Eventually even that turned to a low, slippery hum. She found it hard to even speak words, words which had seemed so important to her only a few moments, hours, days, weeks, months, years ago. What did years have to do with now?

She’s burned down many a bridge

Only the falchion was still within her grasp. Reality--that had slipped away int oa place she could not follow a long, long while ago. Aranica? The Arena? The Capitol? Hell, District One? None of that was attainable. Why was she bothering to fight anymore when Dru knew the painless option was to give up hope.

Hope! That word was her saving grace. The wild, manic glint returned to her eyes, which would have been horrifying to Aranica if Dru did not know her better. A murderous look from Dru would comfort her, whereas the dazed, strange glances she had been casting in the direction of the One-Armed Wonder just about a moment ago were frightening. Even Dru sensed that, and she was beyond such trite, human things by now. The only facts that registered in her mind was that the ocean was a slippery blue, darker than it had been during her whole entire time spent in the Arena. The other fact was that Ara was in pain.

Really, there was not much else for Dru to notice. The Arena was just a forsaken ocean of rippling waves, clouds and two girls with a duty to each other and the world to make something of their last few moments together. Dru could almost see it in her minds eye, the strange glares her friends and family would be giving her. She almost heard them taunting her, telling her to finish off Aranica Petros now or she would die. What did it matter any more.

And she’s scared of walking in the dark
It hurts when the rain falls on her skin

Dru started to laugh, it was a frightening sound that did not belong. There was so much air being pushed up to the surface, Dru almost felt like throwing up, she was trying to get this awful feeling out of her. Then again, she had already hurled and that had not helped much, only inspired Aranica to copy-cat her and do the same. This water really should be used for anything else after the Hunger Games. It was gross. This feeling, incredible as it was, could not last long.

She had known friends who would take pills and drink energy boosters at the same time. They had always watched her with wild eyes that saw things that really weren't there. It was disturbingly unreal, like a whole new world was being seen through those blank, dilated eyes. Dru cautiously let her eyes drift over Aranica's face. Even the delusional girl who saw voices had never had such a dreamy look on her face. That inspired Dru. If Ara could deal with all those voices and sounds, Dru could deal with the monsters her eyes seemed to be seeing.

There was a bitter flash of pain working its way through Dru's body, evicting that awful sensation of tingling numbness. It worked its way from the tips of her toes to where the original plague had started--the crown of her head. Dru finally snapped back into herself, all at once. She shoved away the pitiful crying girl in the back of her head who was convinced Dru needed to just give in to the feeling. Pushed away stray thoughts of home and finally with a tremendous, mental grunt Miss Charlesburg forced herself to forget Aranica. Not completely, but just enough that if she did survive the day she would be able to forgive herself.

Oh she is worn out from marching
And she’s forgotten for what she’s searching

I was out of my mind. After she hit me on the head, I lost control and I retreated into a dark place. I don't know, I am just one victor but I have a feeling all of us have been there right before we finally know we're going home. You loose hope, but then you just know that no matter what you have to live. It feels wrong and right all at once. She would shed a tear or two, but furiously swipe at them, pawing her face until it was dry. Dru would refuse to make eye-contact for a few silent moments, then with an absolutely tormented look at the screen they would cut her interview short. She would be free to go home and cry her eyes out then for love lost and all that other rmushy stuff.

Now that she was sure she could later explain away this battle, Dru did let herself retreat into her own mind a little bit, but every movement had a purpose, a reason for having come to pass. She shifted slightly into a striking position. Aranica was playing rough now, Dru respected that. She needed to up her antics or give in. She recoiled from that idea like she had just been slapped by a blast of icy water. It almost caused her to hesitate, but Dru was in control now and she would tell her body when to hesitate and when not to.

She was in absolute control of the situation. No way, no how could she let herself be picked off by an orphaned psychopath her heart told her she loved but Dru's critical,--have I mentioned disturbed?--analytical mind told her she had simply bonded with. No biggy, you could murder a friend. If Dru actually believed Aranica to be her little sister then it would make her an utter monstrosity to be swinging the falchion so close to Aranica so casually.

Yet she keeps up the stride

Well, come to think about it the evidence strongly suggested Dru was a monster, so maybe she did secretly believe (just a little bit) that her and Aranica were soul sisters. That changed nothing, nothing. Dru was in control . Words echoed in her mind, words she herself had spoken. Aranicas life was hers to protect and hers to take. This was no the time to be a guardian angel, this was the takers time. Only if Dru was absolutely willing and in control (had she mentioned she was in control yet? No, well she was!) Only then would she manage to beat down this powerful foe.

In her delirium, Dru conveniently forgot that she had not stopped laughing, and laughing, and laughing. Because she was in complete control. The sound did not click in her mind, she heard a distant noise that was haunting and haunted all at once, with just a hint of desperation infused. Dru's one-track mind wrote it off as a seagull somewhere far away in the Arena. Dru's one-track mind was focusing all of her remaining energy and life force on Aranica Petros. Question was, did she wish to use this supposed remaining energy to help Aranica win or hurt her?


With that thought in mind she went forward. Dru had yet to decide whether or not she was trying to 'help' or 'hurt' Aranica, but honest to God, at this point it did not matter. She was only going through the motions, if she stopped now if would only drag this fight along, not serve a true purpose. Dru found herself silenced as her mind caught up with real time. She shut up, gasping from the effort of laughing hysterically for so long. It was a waste of energy, just like this 'deep thinking' business was. It was time for this fight to end one way or another. She was sick to her stomach of these declarations of love, hate and revenge. She wanted it all of this to stop! Dru forgot who she was right then and there. Only a machine-like monster surged forward, not a relatively innocent girl with only the secret intentions to help her little sister live an easier, healthier, happier life buried deep down in the back of her mind. All had been forgotten. All was forgotten.

God knows that she won’t arrive

ATTACKS ARANICA [dice=156+3653000]

ooc- thank you Blue foundation for the slightly edited words of wisdom. Also sorry for the slightly trippy take on Dru's -turns into a puddle of mush-

[rand=5006011495664342904102694877362527863426400660726427416176183958]

[WT]

If I knew you were coming
I'd be home soon
And if I knew you were wishing
upon the same moon

For a split second, Aranica actually thought she had done it. Dru went almost completely limp, her face turning blank in a way that stopped Ara's heart. This wasn't cloud-caused blankness she was looking at, but utter numbness, emotional and mental and even, finally, physical. It was the same kind of expression she was sure was on her own face, except without the tinge of horror- the only emotion that could make it past the wall that had formed the moment she had recognized the possibility that her worse

[/i] other half could really be gone.

Why else would Dru look like this? She had always been pale, but now she was unnaturally so, her body seemingly illuminated from within. It shouldn't have been that different, because to Aranica the Career had always shone with a kind of inner light. It was, though. Before, Dru... she had been on fire from the inside. That was why she had been so bright- the blaze that had made her so brilliant had been the very one that had fueled her remarkable strength and her furious, vibrant life. Now, it was just light reflecting off a white shell. Her only color and her only motion was the blood, still seeping too quickly from her empty body.

No- not empty. Aranica felt her heart skip as Dru moved. It was only a slight movement, but it was enough, and Ara's heart leaped a tiny bit- and then, as Dru said her name, her poor little organ burst all over again. She hated herself for it- she wanted Dru dead, remember? she wanted the clouds gone so Dru didn't have to live a cursed life- but she couldn't help it. Dru was alive for a little longer, and that was a cause for celebration.

"Dru," she whispered back. "I'm here."

Ara would just have to see to it that whatever moments they had weren't wasted.

I would walk out in the night
To tell you it's alright

The familiar murderous glint returned, and Aranica grinned. She was probably confusing everyone watching the television (and they all had to be watching, she knew it), but she didn't care about them, because none of them were Dru. They weren't worth the explanation of how often Aranica had seen that very expression even before they had entered the Arena, or how much it reassured her because it confirmed that Dru was in there, still fighting and far from dead.

"That's the Dru I know," she murmured, her voice positively beaming with pride and joy. Her Dru was back! For at least a few more seconds, everything would be okay.

Make me a stone
Make me a crown
Make me a child to bare through the storm
Who can continue when I'm gone

Something else occurred to her. If Dru was enough herself to bear an exact copy of the expression she had come to be known for, maybe that meant that her older sister had managed to get rid of the clouds. It was possible- anything was possible, now. Ara had cracked her over the head really hard, after all. Who knew? The clouds could very well have fled her mind, also thinking that she was dead, and leaving her free.

"Are they gone now? Did we get them?"

She would die now, then. But that was okay, because Dru Charlesburg would remember her to the outside world, and the rocks would forever stand as her monument.

Make me a tree
Under the sea
Where I can climb and fall down
And we can sleep there on the ground

For now, they could just float in the water together and look at each other for clear eyes, as they hadn't been able to do for the past several minutes. They could watch each other, and each of them could see their counterpart as if she was still whole and vibrant, the way they had been. They could both flash back through the days, rewinding faster and faster through battles and shelters and jungles and rafts, screaming and crying and laughing and talking, until it was just the two of them at the beginning and the end of the universe, curled together into a single mass. In this moment, they could both be complete.

To be honest, all that sounded a little bit ridiculous, even to Aranica. The greater part of her mind knew that they weren't really sleeping together on a stone floor beneath a beautiful tree that covered them with petals and sang sweet dreams down to them. Still, she wanted to believe it, and Ara's mind was good at making itself believe things. So for the briefest of instants, she truly did- and she was happy.

If I knew you were thinking
- to this one I am bound
And if I knew you where wishing
you should be on the same ground

The problem with joy and love is that they work hand in hand with hope, which always, no matter what, breaks your heart in the end- because hope implies that there is a happy ending, and there is no such thing as that. Everyone dies, everyone loses loved ones, and in the end, everyone loses the game of life. So if hope is just an emotion that your mind uses to delude you, only to break your heart, then such things as joy are must be precursors to it.

In Ara's case, at least, that was what had happened. That moment of joy had somehow given her the idea that everything would work out for longer than a moment, and that just wasn't possible here. The only thing that was possible here was death- and the only sound that could have convinced her of that was the laughing.

This wasn't Dru's laugh. Ara felt a little like earlier, when the clouds had first taken Dru and her sister's voice had changed beyond recognition. It was a similar thing, this laugh- Dru's laugh, but devoid of anything that made the Career who she was. It was a terrifying sound, and it slapped Aranica right across the face and mind, returning her to a terrible place- one that everyone else knew as reality, but that she could only register as a nightmare.

Her lip quivered, and she barely managed to speak. "There's no way, is there?"

Walk out in the night
And tell me it's alright

No, there wasn't. All Aranica needed was for Dru to smile and nod and say "yes, there was" - but this year's District One female, like so many Careers before her, was a brutal girl. That wasn't her way of doing things. She was blunt and harsh, the type of person who fought until she barely remembered herself. She wasn't the kind of person who lied to make other people feel better- not even Aranica Petros, her little sister.

Or... was this even Dru? Surely Dru wouldn't laugh on and on in that awful half-voice. Even when she had gone after Carex, even in the Bloodbath, she hadn't been like this. She had been insane then, but she'd been insane in her own familiar bloodthirsty way. Ara had never seen this frenzied sort of madness, and all her heart told her that this could not be the girl she had come to know and love.

Aranica wanted to cover her ears to block out the sound, but she couldn't manage that, so she could only watch wide-eyed and wide-eared as Dru advanced, still laughing maniacally. She could barely even work up the will to dodge as the cloud-assassins in Dru tried to decapitate her; she managed, so only her shoulder was sliced, but had she stared a moment longer she would have died.

We're back, little Aranica.

If I could see the things you see
If I could be inside your head
Would I only do the right things
And would you still be here?

"Dru..."

No hope. No joy. Only fear, and a love that wailed in pain and ripped desperately at her insides. She should have figured it out earlier, she shold have ended it. At least then it would be Dru who lay there in front of her- she'd be dead, yes, but that had to be better than her becoming the monstrosity that swam before Ara's eyes.

Every time she'd thought about her own guilt these games, she had collapsed. She couldn't do that now. She had to stop thinking.

It was easier, anyway, to give in to instinct. To raise the gun and fire, ignoring the trembling in her body and the way her very essence wanted to scream to the stars how unfair this was.

She allowed just one question to lance across her mind. Why, rock? Why?

Life's never been fair.

If that's the best you have, maybe it's better if we all die.[/color]

Click.

[dice=87+1589000][/center][/size][rand=3627679320052266058743275701999664751211114227771806635855510830879]

[cinder]

When I was a young boy
My father took me into the city
To see a marching band
He said, "Son, when you grow up
Would you be the savior of the broken
The beaten and the damned??

Dru had not grown up knowing that one day she would be a blood-thirsty villain. From what she recalled of her earliest days--and she did not recall much, Dru had been a shining example of a true Panem citizen. She had had hope for the future, been intelligent, artistic, athletic. She had shined so bright, a beacon of light her parents could hardly believe they called their own. She had been spoiled too, that much Dru remembered. Something had changed though, and here we have Dru Charlesburg of the present day. The Queen of the Damned, the poster child for the motto 'If you can't beat them, join them.' What had once been an idealist was a girl who went with the crowd, no, she led them to their doom.

He said, "Will you defeat them
Your demons and all the non-believers
The plans that they have made?
Because one day, I'll leave you
A phantom to lead you in the summer
To join the Black Parade"

There was an awful feeling deep in the pit of her stomach, both numb and fiery with pain all at once. Except when Dru looked down, she noticed a dart jabbing out of her leg, not her stomach. With trembling hands she pulled it from herself, all the while screaming. The scariest part of that whole scene--the sound that would haunt the Champion for the rest of her life, and even leave an impression on all the viewers back home was the scream that went along with the action. Dru pulled the dart out quickly, ripping it out in the way that people were advised to treat a band-aid. It was not a manic sound, not filled with primal hurt and an all together tremor. Dru heard herself screaming a word. Calling a name. "Aranica!" Her mouth slowly contorted as she twisted the syllables of her one true loves name out, panic and fear flashing in her eyes. She would die with that name on her lips, this was her final farewell to the world. Except that deep in her gut she knew it wasn't. The battle was far from won. Aranica and Dru were still lashing out against the Capitol in a hopeless war they were waging. A rebellious act--their love had been a direct violation of what the Hunger Games were supposed to stand for.

Their love had proven that even when doubt and misery lie at every corner, people can carry on. Dru screamed and her own voice awakened these feelings, in a concentrated form her eternally Career-like mind could handle. Gone was the rebellious notion of standing up defiantly to the Capitol. Instead Dru simply thought all of these things in a conscious way that made some degree of sense. Her mind still registered that this was a battle, but Dru did not know who she was fighting--all she knew was that she was bitter about it and wished them things far worse than death. Her mind still registered that her and Aranica were simple pawns, but why, she did not know. She had the feeling she should understand what was going on--for Gods sake, Dru was the only sounding the alarm, she was the only from which the cry escaped. Still, Dru could not comprehend that she had unwittingly outwitted the people she swore to serve and respected with all her heart. The Capitol.

Sometimes I get the feeling
She's watching over me
And other times I feel like I should go
And through it all, the rise and fall
The bodies in the streets
And when you're gone we want you all to know

The unconscious reckloose finally cut her cry short, breathing hard for it. She flicked the blood-coated dart a few feet away from her, too tired to actually toss it into the depths of the ocean. A wave crashed against Dru, pushing her in the direction of Aranica. Dru desperately back-pedaled, not ready to make her final blow, not even when the crowds of people watching her and Ara demanded it. They were the ones pushing her toward Aranica, not the ocean itself. The ocean was her friend, whispering simple words of encouragement that comforted Dru and reminded her that when she was gone, Aranica would not be completely alone as long as she had a rock, or a drop of water or even a flower for company.

The crowd rushed at Dru, pushing her again at Aranica. She thrashed wildly in the water, ignoring the dull throbbing of broken down, ghostly-white legs. Certainly these long sticks were not Dru's. Last she had checked her legs had been toned and peach colored with not a blemish, not even a hair growing from them. Now they were a bumpy mess of blood and the fine blonde hairs that had grown after a week in the Arena seemed all the more noticeable against the drab whiteness of her fading body.

We'll carry on, we'll carry on
And though you're dead and gone, believe me
Your memory will carry on, we'll carry on
And in my heart, I can't contain it
The anthem won't explain it

Dru felt a pressure on the inside as her always prophetic, certainly philosophical mind analyzed the fact that her body was fading away. How did it make sense? What rules of the universe had bent Dru down on her knees and forced her into this situation where her heart was set on betraying her body, and her clinical mind had no control, whatsoever? Nothing could properly explain this betrayal. Dru's heart had betrayed her body because Dru's mind had betrayed Aranica who truly was Dru in another form. This sounded like the religious junk people always tried to push on Dru, the junk she had never cared or and never minded. What would happen when all these three parts of her were scrambling about, set on destroying each other? Why, Dru would die in the process. Nobody could survive this kind of ordeal. And that was the point of death wasn't it. Dru's body was the first to go rigid with comprehension that dawned in her eyes and rippled through her being. Dru, Dru... she finally knew what was going on, why this inner battle was.

And while that sends you reeling
From decimated dreams
Your misery and hate will kill us all
So paint it black and take it back
Let's shout out loud and clear
Do you fight it to the end?

Even with that comprehension dawning on her face, Dru could not stop the sudden shock that sent her reeling. There was a her mind snapped as Dru thought about her body fading away into nothingness and she understood. In that moment she finally understood what it was to die. It was the separation of a Trinity that lived within Dru. There was her once beautiful body, her fascinating mind and her aching heart. Death would leave that body on earth to rot in the ground. Death would break her aching heart, snap it into small pieces and feed it to the dogs. Death would take that mind that thought itself so clever and interesting, scatter it across the world and Dru would be gone. There would be vague imprints of her left across Panem. People would touch the things Dru's body had, people would love the girl that held Dru's heart in her hands and people would certainly debate what had been going on it that head of hers during the Games.

There would be videos and explanations for all that she had done, but nobody would ever be able to bring back Dru. The pieces of the puzzle would not fit together, preserving her mind, body and heart was an impossible task. Nobody would be able to say with absolute certainty what her whole entire being yearned for and had dreamed of. What had she dreamed of? It did not matter now, you could not dream if there was no future for you. That much was clear. This was a battle Dru could not win, a battle she refused to stop fighting and a battle that was to the death. She fought to preserve herself. Mind and body united against the forces of Aranica's blows. Her heart was the traitor that was escorting Dru to Deaths Door. Her heart was the one that looked at Aranica, then saw Dru and decided it would be better to let her young sister live for Dru and Ara both.

We hear the call to carry on, we'll carry on
And though you're dead and gone, believe me
Your memory will carry on, we'll carry on
And though you're broken and defeated
You're weary widow marches

Well, mused Dru, I suppose there are worse ways to spend the rest of my existence. Being trapped, no, no, being a guest in Aranica's mind who can guide and protect her while she trudges on through life without me--that's a better deal than a villain like myself deserves. Dear God, thinking about what Dru deserved just brought on a wave of self-pity and hatred of the monster she'd become. No, the facts really did not bother her much but good people just had it so much easier than girls like her. At least Dru could die knowing she had stayed true to her stripes, unlike some of the other Tributes she had known. Shameless Euthanasia had taught Dru that appearances weren't everything. People were so different on the inside then they were on the outside. That was why she loved Aranica Petros, the girl who hid nothing from anybody and who allowed herself to feel fear, get passed it and move on. She was a Trooper.

On and on we carry through the fears
Disappointed faces of your peers
Take a look at me
'Cause I could not care at all

Yeah, yeah she deserves a freaking Gold Star, now are you going to attack her or not? screamed one thousand voices in her mind. The loudest ones of all were her parents. Dru could only imagine the disgust on their faces, the horror that they had failed Dru. That they had raised her soft--her father, Mr. Charlesburg would probably even lose support in the next elections for District One mayor. If he even bothered running. Dru was weak, she was an Almost But Note Quite Good Enough Daughter who reflected badly on her parents because they were the ones who had brought her up with all the values and lessons of a Career. Obviously they hadn't done a very good job, Dru's mom would be drinking right about now and her father would be watching the screen of the television with a tight, well-rehearsed expression on his face that he always used when regarding a person he did not like or respect.

Oh! Their disappointment, their lack of respect for the monstrous daughter they had reared, it brought Dru to tears. Not. She could care less what the thousand and one voices dwelling inside her head told her. Not even that last voice, the one that used to matter to Dru above all else. Her own voice. She flipped it the bird. No longer would Dru operate against herself and allow her mind to be muddled. She drew her face into that tight look she had learned from dear Mr. Charlesburg himself, set her whole being to uniting and decided to attack Aranica Petros, to make it memorable and to die with not just her own personal knowledge that she had stayed true to herself. She would make everybody know so. Nobody could make Dru do anything she did not want to do, she was one and united. A body, heart and mind that had perpetually been on the same wave-length, shame coursed through Dru Charlesburg at the thought of breaking herself. For a moment there, she had almost let the voices and opinions of so many people get to her.

Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world will never take my heart
Though you try, you'll never break me
We want it all, we wanna play this part

Dru was her own person. As she slowly turned her falchion until most of it was out in the open, she reminded herself that she was Dru Charlesburg and nobody could tell her otherwise. On one hand, this was good--she finally felt strong and in control. On the other hand, it made lifting her weapon all the harder. There were no scapegoats left for her to use, Dru was going to try to kill Ara. Simple as pie, no way to get around the facts. Just because she had been convincing herself that it was the fault of so and so for the length of the fight did not make it true. Dru realized that now, that she could no longer pretend that it was human nature to kill. She couldn't tell herself it was fate or hell--the fault of the Capitol. Not the fault of all her anxious fans back home.

Won't explain or say I'm sorry
I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scar
Give a cheer for all the broken
Listen here, because it's only

She could only say that she had made a decision and she had to stick by it. Sorry Aranica, Dru thought with little to no conviction. Ara already understood these feelings, she already knew what Dru was going through. Aranica had made a choice and Dru had made a choice. They had made it together, decided an all-out fight was the only thing that would be equally fair to both of them. Dru felt shame course through her at the thought of trying to help Aranica win. All that would do was give Ara extra time to feel guilty and depressed. All that would do was make the girl sorrier for Dru's death because she knew deep in her heart Dru had as much a chance at winning as Aranica did.

It was a cruel fact of Hunger Games life that had nothing to do with Dru's sadistic, manipulative nature or Aranica's endearing tendency to blame herself for things that were out of her control. Feeling remorse was useless. Remorse itself was just an obnoxious feeling the Gamemakers told the Tributes to feel, and what had Dru said about people trying to make her do stuff? It never worked out well for them. She would have her revenge by simply living and breathing under her own control.

I'm just a man, I'm not a hero
Just a boy who wanna sing his song
Just a man, I'm not a hero
I don't care!

There was no reason for Dru to care about agenda's and twisted plots made by twisted people. If she died then they could not exact their revenge on Dru. In fact, when she died it would only make their lives harder because that would leave Aranica Petros alive. Ara was an unwittingly tricky person, mind you. If she lived, she was a Victor. Being a Victor meant safety and security for Dru. A Champions loved ones might suffer but hello!, this is Dru, her only loved on would die if she lived. No need to worry about that either. (People, really? Still seem to think Dru's just misunderstood and cares for others underneath her hardcore image. Getting tired of having to explain things to ignorant question-askers)

Dru no longer bothered with trivial thoughts of a conscience she may or may not possess. The future and past were distant things Dru cared nothing for. This was the present, the choice she had made was shaping her destiny. This was Dru's life in Dru's hands. Down with the deep thoughts and bizarre questions her mind was set on asking itself. Down with all thoughts at all. Do or die, this was Dru's final hour and she was ready for action. Words did people no good--so shut up and move, girl!

And that she did.

ATTACKS ARANICA [dice=156+3653000]

Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world will never take my heart
Go and try, you'll never break me
We want it all, we wanna play this part
We'll carry on

Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world will never take my heart
Go and try, you'll never break me
We want it all, we wanna play this part
We'll carry on

ooc- I'm banging my head against a wall because I had no muse for this post. WT isn't here to bounce off of Sorry...
And yes, I did use My Chemical Romance lyrics in a Drupost. Don't hate on me, I'm having a sudden emo breakdown XD

[rand=695548641262576821429218165576587229327554814522146392511203885]

[WT]

((OOC- How in Ripred's almighty name do I get the longest posts when I start out with no muse whatsoever? That probably means it sucks. Dangit.

... Lolwhat. Yes. Slightly edited MCR lyrics (I had so much fun with the you and I and me and we in the chorus bits, lemme tell ya). I know, I'm lame. DON'T LAUGH AT ME. xD I promise I'm not copying Cinder, I've just had this song stuck in my head for three days and there was almost no way I couldn't use it. *flails*))


Now I know
That I can't make you stay
But where's your heart?

There was no response to any of Aranica's words- which, on separate levels, both broke her heart and didn't affect her at all. On the one hand, her heart was desperate for Dru to say something that would prove she was in there; on the other hand, her mind was becoming used to this fight and to the idea that they would have to fight to the death before there could be any true peace between them. It was a bizarre dichotomy, and one that Aranica did not appreciate, so she largely ignored it and focused instead on her friend.

Wrong, wrong moment to focus. Dru screamed as the dart punctured her leg, and Ara, longing to be somewhere else, anywhere else, so that she didn't have to see what she was doing to the girl she had accepted as her sister. Dru didn't belong like this, weakened and fading and screaming in anguish; she was strong and victorious, weilding her falchion like the pro that she was, standing strong when everyone else fell. This was some kind of warped version of reality, and Aranica did not like it one bit.

"Dru," she cried, but there was nothing else she could do for her friend. Had they been on land, and had this been a normal fight, she could have apologized and helped the older girl patch it up. There was no room for apology here, though (never mind that her yell just a moment ago had been exactly that), and definitely no way to go stitching the other girl up. No materials, and above all no time.

Dru seemed to be fading in front of her eyes. Aranica forced herself to watch, even though it made her already-pronounced shaking even worse, even though seeing her sister bleed somehow made her more aware of her own plenty-painful wounds. Where was Dru? Was she still here in the ocean? Was she drifting off somewhere? Were the clouds still beating her back? Probably, if she was looking this weak, but how far back was she? How many layers did you have to dig through to get to Dru?

And I know
There's nothing I could say
To change that part

There was a sickening feeling in Aranica's heart that no matter what the answer to that question was, it didn't matter. The girl whose body was coming toward Ara with a sword raised could be just on the surface or buried beneath the entire storm's worth of clouds, and there would be no difference.

The awful truth of the matter, if the District Twelve tribute cared to face it (which she didn't really, but her mind seemed to be forcing her there), was that the cloud-assassins were just a... a cover. An excuse. They had, in a terrible way, provided her with a sort of respite when they appeared, because they'd protected her from having to make the truly hard choice. The whole time she'd been attacking them, telling herself that she was only attacking Dru's body because she had to do so to get to them, but that could only last so long. There would be a time- and it looked like that time was drawing closer with every inch her sister pushed herself through the water- that she would have to admit that she was attacking Dru.

Not by choice. If she had her way she'd be long dead rather than lay a finger (or dart, or gun, or anything at all) on the older tribute. But she couldn't kill herself, because the Capitol wouldn't like it. She couldn't pull punches, because that wasn't fair to the fighter that Dru was. Taking the easy road was a lousy way to honour her friend, anyway.

Not that saving her friend was unimportant, mind you. Aranica had not lost sight of her task for a moment; she had to free Dru. (A cloud broke through the rock's shields to ask, Can you? She shoved it aside impatiently; whether she could or not, she had to try.) But as the falchion drove into her skin, missing her heart for the second (but much less painful) time, she forced herself to admit that even if the assassins hadn't come, this fight would be looking much the same. She would still be attacking Dru, and Dru would still be attacking her.

So many
Bright lights, they cast a shadow
But can I speak?
Well is it hard understanding
I'm incomplete

Somehow, the pain in her chest was more noticeable than any other injury she'd collected since losing half her arm. She giggled a tiny bit as stress turned into amusement at the idea that the cut on her outside was amplifying the pain in her insides, or maybe the other way around. Why that amused her when it ought to be either painful, horrifying, or too ridiculous to consider, she wasn't sure, but suddenly she was so amused

Oh well. There are worse ways to snap.

"Dru," she babbled, a ridiculous grin on her face as she spun her remaining hand around in circles. (She tried to move her other hand like that too, but of course it was gone, so she just ended up flailing her bleeding elbow-stump around, which somehow struck her as even more hilarious.) "You cut me and it hurts!" A fit of med giggling passed between her lips, cutting off her speech, and by the time it died down she completely forgot whatever she had been about to say. She covered up her lapse by chortling more, until she was laughing so hard that her eyes squeezed shut and a few tiny tears leaked their way out, until the act of laughing made her wounds hurt even more than they already did.

She didn't want to think about the pain. It was fun to laugh. She had always enjoyed it, as far back as she could remember (for whatever her memory was worth, which may not be much, considering the number of holes she found whenever she tried to look through it.) Pain made her stop giggling, and if she stopped that she would have to think about other things that made her sad and soon enough she wouldn't be smiling at all. She'd be forced to acknowledge the world of hurt and the clouds that were still raining on her and the holes all over her mind and body alike.

A life that's so demanding
I get so weak
A love that's so demanding
I can't speak

A wave pushed her and ducked her underwater, as though the whole ocean was trying to snap her out of it. She was still shaking with laughter when she came back up, but then the droplets' many voices hit her. All at once she fell silent, and forced herself to snap her eyes open.

Good thing she did. She was being slowly pushed toward Dru, which was the last place she wanted to be right now. Being near the older tribute meant attacking her, and that was one of the things she'd been trying to escape, even though she needed to do it.

This whole business of love and of caring for people you were supposed to kill, it occurred to her quite suddenly, was rather exhausting, it was a shame she hadn't realized that a few weeks ago, when she'd first met Dru and they had exchanged their first words. Had she known that, she would have fled far and fast in the other direction, and saved them both the pain.

Well. She wouldn't really have done so. Dru was too important to her to just shut the Career out of her life. Aranica occasionally wished she remembered her family, no matter how painful such memories would be; she had never had it in her to be upset about having no parents or siblings or even cousins, but it always made her a little bit wistful. Not having Dru, she imagined, would be much the same. She couldn't miss what she'd never had, but she could ache for it just the same.

Swim float move swim, the water cried out. Ara snapped herself into the world and began moving her arm (and a half) and legs again in reluctant obedience. Her life vest was too full of holes, too waterlogged, to help her any more. A shame, because she needed it now more than ever. She was losing energy as quickly as blood, and she didn't know how much longer she could continue swimming. Sooner or later she was just going to have to stop, and she would sink and drown.

A small part of her mind murmured something about why that was a good thing, but she couldn't focus. All she could think about was swimming.Up, down, side to side, don't stop but don't let go of the dart gun. It's important. Don't know why, but it's important...

Can you see?
My eyes are shining bright
Cause I'm out here
On the other side
Of a jet black hotel mirror
And I'm so weak

She felt rather like she would be crying if she had any tears left, and that made her frown a little. That was silly. Why should she cry? Why, for that matter, were her tear ducts so depleted? It wasn't like she had the energy to cry anyway; doing so would take her focus away from swimming, and then she would sink. Drowning was good, but it was also very very bad- she remembered that much.

No cry don't bad silly understand do don't tears little salt ocean good bad, the water around her burbled. She smiled faintly, glad she could hear all the drops, even though the words were confusing. No one seemed to care that she wasn't paying enough attention to work out their words, because they just kept going and going, the same way she kept swimming and swimming. Their thought started blending in her mind, giving a bit more substance to that ghost of a grin. Swim keep swimming silly good. That should be a song. Child sing swim go move keep swimming. No really, just add a tune. A song, about swimming. To help... to help me swim...

Why did she need help swimming again? The world was so dark- couldn't she just close her eyes and stop swimming?

These bright lights have always blinded me
These bright lights are always blinding me

A bright shape popped into relief against the dark. Ara shied away from it, then shrieked in recognition. For an instant she stopped swimming as the water pushed her toward Dru, still murmuring incomprehensible fragments, and only restarted when it screamed SWIM at her, all the drops sounding in tandem for what was probably the first time ever and would probably be the last.

Dru. Fight. Bow. Cloud-assassins. Falchion. Not the water's babbling- the rock, trying to fill her in on what she'd been trying to forget. Stop running away, it told her firmly, and went on to the images- her swimming taking her away from Dru as she unconciously tried to moving away from the scene that could (and already had) hurt them both so badly.

Kill her, Aranica, kill her!

The clouds' appearance caused the the rock's reminders to vanishe as it jumped back into battle with them. Ara's mind was doing just fine filling things in on its own, though. She wished it would stop, but it kept going, bringing her up to speed on her own actions- and, probably more importantly, her own decisions.

She took a deep breath and turned to face Dru.

I see you lying next to me
With words I thought I'd never speak
Awake and unafraid
Asleep or dead

Her actions of the past half-minute or so: swimming, trying to stay afloat, avoiding the falchion long enough to catch her breath and recoup her mind. Not that interesting, but definitely important. She continued doing those things, this time with a bit more purpose behind them because she remembered the reasons that had led her to them.

Her decisions of the past half-minute or so: not much. She hadn't been doing a whole lot of thinking. But a few strands of thought that had spent the whole fight forming had tied themselves together, and she turned her inner eye to those knots now, to see what they had to offer.

Thing One: She had to free Dru. Duh. She shoved further into her mind.
Thing Two: This fight would happen with or without cloud-assassins. Understood and unpleasant to dwell on, so she moved on.
Thing Three: Dru was fading, probably dying. There was a good chance that Aranica would be going home today.

I am not afraid to keep on living
I am not afraid to walk this world alone
(Or dead)

And then Thing Four, which seemed to be the last of the important Things that had come to the surface of her mind: Thing Three ought to make her happy, and it did exactly the opposite.

No duh, mind. Aren't you supposed to think up stuff I don't already know?

Honey if I stay, I'll be forgiven
Nothing you can say can stop me going home

She bit her lip, trying to envision herself being raised into a chopper and Dru dead in the water. It wouldn't come to her. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like to have people revere and detest her as the winner, or for people to laugh at or pity Dru for being killer by a twelve-year-old.

And yet, she could, because right now she couldn't see Dru winning. The Career was weakening too much, too quickly. She could see herself getting fixed up and goibng back to her regular old life at the shop. She could imagine most of Panem forgiving her when they saw the tears in her eyes, could almost see the whole of Dru's own home nodding to her and grudgingly admitting that she had somehow, impossibly, gotten the upper hand.

Just because she could see it didn't keep it from making no sense.

Honey if you stay, you’ll be forgiven
Nothing I can say can stop you going home

Dru winning was so much more realistic. The District One Career, strong and vicious and trained from an early age, should be able to beat out the weak little District Twelve girl any day of the week. Panem wouldn't forgive her exactly (how many Victors were ever truly forgiven), but they would understand it a whole lot better. They'd accept it better.

And wasn't that more likely to happen, anyway?


I am not afraid to keep on living
I am not afraid to walk this world alone
(Or dead)

No. No, it wasn't. Both girls were bleeding in the water, but the one who was losing more blood was not the girl who had just lost half an arm. It was the girl who should have won.

In the end, it all boiled down to one thing- the only one that Ara had left off her list of Things, because it was the only that she liked the least and the one that, in some ways, hurt the most.

Thing Five: None of it matters.

Honey if you stay, we'll be forgiven
But nothing we can say can stop me going home

[dice=87+1589000]

[rand=19472229996460616461024422255837957284288944303958927992430972504]

[cinder]

There's a spanner in the works you know,
you gotta step up your game to make to the top.
So go!

There are a few things about the world that no man or woman has the power to change. One of them happens to be the handy-dandy rule that says stomping ones foot requires ground to stomp it on. Dru however was no human. She was death, a monster. Anyways, the laws of the universe no longer mattered to Dru. She found herself stomping her foot in water while also snorting half of the ocean up her nose. It was not a pleasant scene, to top it off her little trouble-making friend shot Dru again. Naturally Dru didn't even bother to look down and check where Aranica's dart had gone. Where else would the gazillionth dart go but in her leg?

The odd part was that Dru no longer felt like screaming bloody murder and wringing Ara's neck like a chickens for aiming so low. Her legs were buzzing, vibrating with tension and hurt but the pain did not translate in Dru's mind. These feelings were a bodies last resort, one final stand against an enemy. It was a true gift from the heavens, if there was such a thing as heaven. For a split-second Dru believed that some Guardian Angels sitting pretty on a cloud had finally decided to spare her the pain. 'Hey, see that kid over there. The monster-girl? Think she's had enough suffering yet?' 'Oh, yeah sure. Lets numb her legs up a bit. Poor angel-face has had enough for today. She's going to Hell anyways, might as well make her last living moments good.' 'We could get her hopes up for a nice after-life then send her Satan's way, am I right or am I right?' "You're too cruel!'

The scene unfolded in Dru's head, she shivered at the very thought of it before deciding that no believing in Heaven and Hell was much easier. Dru decided to instead give Aranica a withering glance. "You little witch!" she screeched at Ara, careful not to curse. The majority of Dru's heart still loved the little girl with a passion and would not allow her to leave this world with her last words to Ara being curse-riddled. "Do you know how hard I worked to sculpt these legs?" Dru practically spat. There! That was the old Dru of District One speaking up. A girl who cared for nothing but her own looks.

Gotta little competition now,
you're going to find it hard to cope with living on your own now.
Uh oh!
Uh oh!

In a corner of her mind, Dru was pleased to know a fragment of that girl had survived to die with the new Dru. She did not feel so alone, so used and abused as she had felt a few minutes ago. Still, could the old Dru have found a worse way to manifest herself? Yelling at a murderous twelve year old with a lethal weapon made Dru think her memory had gone bad. For some reason, she recalled being a rather clever girl when she was living back home in District One. This was the move of a mad-man, the move of somebody who had not just accepted her own imminent death, but had a death-wish.

That was not the spirit of the fight! Dru could hardly believe herself, but it was indeed true. She was sick of living and fighting. The Capitol had had a nice show while it lasted, Aranica knew she loved her, so why not curl her fingers and tell Death to come get her? Flabbergasted, she contemplated the thought, analyzed her instant rage and finally came to the conclusion that maybe a death wish was not that bad. Certainly it was better than brooding about death. Nobody had ever specifically told Dru death was a bad thing because nobody knew for sure.

Nobody knew anything about death. Dru therefore did not feel strange about her new mind-set. She wanted Death, craved it. Her body yearned for the release from pain, her mind wished to be understood by this all-important being, if Death took such form, and her heart was simply sick of this fight. Dru laughed at the thought of herself facing Death. She had faced greater foes, (have you met her mother?) in fact the longer this fight went on, the more Dru believed Death was her friend. Her very best friend, her true love second only to Aranica.

Let's make this happen, girl you gonna show the world that something good can work and it can work for you.
And you know that it will.

[/center]

Death was that which would safe her from the eternal pain of the task at hand. Fighting Aranica would be a lot harder if Death did not come for one of them eventually. Actually, it was rather nice come to think about it. Dru would spend the rest of her life close to Aranica Petros, then Death would tap her on the shoulder and it would be time to go. Struggling would bring unnecessary pain to Dru, she would go peacefully with Death. The only reason Dru had been fighting so hard against Aranica was because she did not want to die. Now that Death seemed so welcoming, Dru could go through the motions and know it did not mean anything.

She hadn't bothered to pull out this last dart until now. Dru smiled bitterly at the dart, it was slick with her blood, so much of her blood. Dru was in a state of disbelief. How could something so small and skinny lead to the demise of Dru Charlesburg the Limb-Slicer. It almost seemed like poetic justice. Dru sliced limbs, people died. Aranica poked a bunch of holes in her. There were few large gashes for Dru to blame her death on. Aranica Petros was poking Dru to death.

For some reason that lit up her face, and Dru couldn't resist telling Aranica good job. The girl was poking Dru's legs like they were pieces of swiss cheese missing their holes. She was kindly focusing her fire though. Dru would bleed out and go limp because of her legs--they were ruined--that was just a fact of life. But still, Aranica could have chosen to poke holes in Dru everywhere else. A hole in the arm, another in the foot. Dru would bleed out at the same rate[ish] but there would be more pain. Aranica Petros was smarter than Dru had originally thought. Behind that pretty face and innocent smile was an evil mastermind. The little girl realized that if Dru's legs were hurt enough, they would stop hurting altogether. The gracious, blessed lack of feeling in her legs was Ara's last gift to Dru--not some divine gift. She should have known it, the Heavens did not have Dru's back, they did not care for an abusive, abused girl like her. Aranica was the only one who cared for her.

Let's get this started girl, we're moving up we're moving up It's been alot to change but you will always get what you want.

She was the only one Dru had left. Dru would most likely die with Aranica's words still echoing in her head. She would die to a chorus of whispering waves and painful cries coming from the mouth of Aranica Petros. Death would take her away to wherever she was meant to be. Her first true love would hand her off to her second true love. Now what was so bad about that?

Dru had learned the true meaning of death moments before her last stand. It was not the destination that was so scary, it was her last journey on the way to death that hurt Dru so much. And that was almost over anyways. She would politely attack Aranica who would raise her gun and finish the job. Dru smiled pleasantly. The Hunger Games were almost over. With a great whooping noise, Dru stabbed at Aranica half-heartedly. Congratulations Dru Charlesburg, you have just earned yourself a one-way ticket to the realm of the dead, and congrats to Aranica Petros. There would be a Champion of the Hunger Games shortly. This was cause for whooping. Dru had done it! Her last wish was to die, which would happen in--oh--a few seconds. Her second last wish had been for Aranica to live on with Dru inside of her. No matter what happened next, she would always be reminded of that one moment of pure bliss. Nobody could force Dru to be or do anything that went against her nature. She fought. She kissed. She wished. Things always went her way.

Dru was rather optimistic about her lack of a future.

I guess this is it, old pal? she told her falchion. It glimmered wickedly in response before coming down.
ATTACKS ARANICA, MOST LIKELY FOR THE LAST TIME
[dice=156+3653000]

Took a little time to make it a little better,
it's only going out, just one thing and another,
you know!
You know!

ooc- Dru is confusing even me, she keeps changing her mind about what she thinks... [/blockquote] [/size] [/color][rand=8885163825470954235110494773834948774553386028856759887473192066]

[WT]

Is your secret safe tonight?
And are we out of sight?
Or will our world come tumbling down?
Will they find our hiding place?
Is this our last embrace?
Or will the walls start caving in?

If you could give Aranica one thing at this moment, anything at all, her answer would be impulsive and simple: peace. If she bothered to think things through she might come up with something a little more specific, perhaps “I want Dru to be safe” or some sentiment of that ilk, but she barely had the initiative to think anymore. There was also a significant probability that even if given time, she would just think for a bit and then throw up her hands and give the exact same answer.

If she could have peace for a few moments, she could catch her breath and regain the energy she needed to launch herself back into this fight the way she needed to. She could rest without fear of the Capitol’s eye, or Panem’s millions-strong gaze, or the clouds that hovered in wait just above the two tributes. She could sort out her thoughts, or even not bother with them- just shove them aside and cling to Dru until their little sanctuary gave way once more.

If only, if only. But she couldn’t have what she wanted- the Capitol had made sure of that, and then the clouds had reinforced it, just in case. Any asylum she or Dru had once possessed, they had already lost it and neither of them would be getting it back for a while yet. There was no such thing as refuge in these Games, no safe place and no chance at rest or calm.

As with many things, though, just because she acknowledged that fact didn’t make her any happier to watch Dru scream in pain or listen to her verbal lashing. (Ara winced a little at that, but didn’t really react; this wasn’t nearly so bad as the one her sister had dished out while under the influence of muttation venom. At least this time Dru wasn’t cursing, which probably meant she wasn’t that mad.) She offered a small smile, true, but it wasn’t a happy smile, and anyone who thought so lived in a much better world than Aranica herself did.

If we live our life in fear I'll wait a thousand years
Just to see you smile again
Quell your prayers for love and peace
You'll wake the thought police
We can hide the truth inside

“About as hard as you worked at everything else, I bet,” she murmured, barely even hearing her own words. It was true- Dru was a juggernaut, never stopping or letting anything slow her down as she bulldozed her own path. Part of what she was amounted to luck and innate skill, just like with anything, but a great deal of it had to be attributed to hard work.

Even now, Dru was labouring away, pushing herself far past the limits that her body looked like it should be able to sustain. She was struggling as hard as ever to get where and what she wanted, with just three things that made this different. The first was that she wasn’t- wait, no. Aranica had been about to think that Dru wasn’t smiling, but now she was, her whole face lighting up as she said something that Ara didn’t quite catch. It wasn’t quite the vicious-edged expression that Ara was used to, but it reassured her a little that Dru had found a bit of that refuge she’d been thinking about earlier. A return smile crossed her face, hesitant but brilliant all at once.

The other two differences were still there, and they were somewhat tied together, though not quite as much as Ara could wish: Dru had never been controlled by cloud-assassins before, and her goal had never been to impale her younger friend with a falchion. Although Aranica did have to wonder about that last, and about whether the weakness in the blow that came toward her, which she blocked by simply shoving her dart gun in the way of the falchion, was truly caused by the Career’s body failing her. It seemed almost but not quite intentional, which she wouldn’t put past Dru. People’s opinions and conceived likelihoods were just more things for the District One tribute to raze over; she was supposed to be attacking Ara, but she also tended to do as she pleased, whether it was what she was supposed to do or not.

That was their version of peace, Ara supposed. That they were both themselves, despite all that had happened to them; that even Dru had retained her person, despite the cloud-assassins closing in on her. They couldn’t be too verbal about it, and they couldn’t really do anything- neither one could say ‘yes, I’ll die now so you can live’ and then off themselves, because that was unfair and would make people angry at whoever was left (and in Ara’s case, it would leave her dearest friend alive and under control of the clouds). That denial didn’t take it away, though. Whatever anyone else saw, on the inside they could each hold on to a little piece of calm inside the secret cellar in their heart.

It could be wrong, could be wrong
But it should've been right
Let our hearts ignite
Are we digging a hole?
This is outta control
It could never last
Must erase it fast
But it could've been right
(It could be wrong, could be)

This whole thing was so twisted. Two girls fighting to the death, each knowing they didn’t want to but also wanting to because they knew they had to. Moments of calm appearing and then rupturing as quickly as they’d come, a whirlwind of motion that started and stopped with no warning and no apparent reasoning as to its direction. Every motion they made lifted them out of the storm and yet pushed them deeper into the nasty, yawning hole that they had dug for themselves with their Capitol-given shovels.

What a week they had had, the two of them. More than that, of course- from the first day of training to today probably bordered on three weeks, maybe a month, maybe four years, Ara didn’t know and didn’t care. For all that time, this past week had been the only bit that truly mattered. These seven days had allowed them to see each other at their best and their worst at the same time, to see every expression and every movement that the other had to offer, and to expose every sentiment either of them knew how to give. In some ways it had been a lot longer than a week, and in some ways it had flown by too quickly to grasp.

And just as the time before paled in comparison to that week, that week was nothing when put up against these past minutes. The two girls had positively exploded in this fight, easily becoming the equals of the storm that was trying to take them down. Please- as if it could. They couldn’t even take each other down, or so it was starting to seem. They would be locked in battle forever, neither truly wanting it but both knowing it needed to be so as they spun and struck in their warped dance. They fit together too well for it to ever end.

Love is our resistance
They keep us apart and won't stop breaking us down
And hold me, our lips must always be sealed

That was the problem- the fact that they fit together like this. If they hadn’t clicked so well, if they didn’t care for each other so much, this would have been infinitely easier. They could have fought it out without restraint and without care for the other, aside from the piece of Aranica that couldn’t help but care for everyone and everything. As it was, they were stuck, tortured by their own cherishing.

Without that love, though, what would be the point? If Ara hadn’t loved the rocks, what would have spurred her on these past four years? If Dru didn’t love herself (laugh if you want, but really, what else did Dru love, except Ara and killing people and maybe her beau?), why would she have lived these past fifteen years? And if they didn’t love each other, they wouldn’t have helped and protected and encouraged each other to this point; they could both have died by now, although Dru might had made it here on sheer power and juggernaut-like determination. Even if the alternate-girls had made it to this battle, there would have been no reason for it beyond blood, which not only wasn’t much of a reason at all but also gave the Capitol and the clouds exactly what they wanted. Their love drove them both onward, at the same time letting them lash out at their true enemies without even trying to.

It also backfired on them, hurting them both more than they ever should have had to hurt.

The night has reached its end
We can't pretend, we must run
We must run, it's time to run...

If they shouldn’t have to hurt, they may as well keep duking it out. Sooner or later one of them would collapse- Dru would bleed out, or Ara would lose the energy she needed to swim, or one of them would get lost in the trap of their own mind and forget to dodge the final blow.

They would see. All that was up to fate, which held all the options. Dru and Ara had only one option each, and that was the same: to keep fighting, keep running, keep striving toward a goal that didn’t really exist. To win, whatever winning meant.

Take us away from here
Protect us from further harm
Resistance

[dice=87+1589000]

[rand=02382420944631114921594587263645185765184506994137424205328233919]

[cinder]

I'm not calling you a liar,
Just don't lie to me.
I'm not calling you a thief,
Just don't steal from meDru attacked, whisking her falchion through the air in a sloppy motion that only resulted in Aranica throwing up something--the gun?--and blocking. Surprise showed in the whites of her eyes, before Dru got a hold of herself. Using her other arm, Dru pushed Aranica away from her just as the girl pulled the trigger of her blow gun. A dart flew dangerously close to Dru's face. It made a small splash as it hit the oceans surface and began to sink. Meanwhile, the Career was backing away from Aranica, just out of her reach. It wasn't as though Ara was going to be reaching for her any time soon. Her arm seemed occupied enough with shooting at Dru and somehow helping keep Aranica above water. Honest to God, Aranica Petros was the One Armed Wonder. On one hand, she was wonderfully lucky and skilled, but on the other hand... well thats the punny part. There was no other hand, and if there were, it would be something like on the other hand, Ara was only human. She couldn't keep afloat forever! I'm not calling you a ghost,
Just stop haunting me,
And I love you so much,
I'm gonna let you,
Kill me.

Stiffling a giggle with the back of her falchion-wielding hand, Dru thought about how sad it was for her to develop an amazing sense of humor moments before she died. That in itself was pretty funny. Dru found herself giggling.

She didn't even raise her hand up to her mouth.

Just let herself laugh away the rest of her time on Earth. Some aunt had sent her a birthday card that said something about... something. What had that aunts name been, anyways? Dru found it hard to remember crucial events of her life here on Earth. No, that was a lie. She saw in her minds eye, with crystal clarity things that her and Aranica had done together, particularly fun times with friends Dru had never hugged. She felt a twinge of pain, wishing she could go back in time and show her appreciation.

There's a ghost in my lungs
And it sighs in my sleep,
Wraps itself around my tongue,

That was the bad part about knowing you're going to die and having time to think things through. You develop traits you might not have. Dru was becoming Your Average Funny, Sappy Teenage Girl. She shivered with disgust and was tempted to scream 'blasphemy' at the top of her lungs.
Of course Dru didn't. What she said instead was just as surprising though. "Thanks."

Her glazed over eyes were fixed on some point in the cloudy sky, while her minds eye conjured pictures of what was going on. She could sense, deep in her heart, that her parents, her friends--dead and alive--were all watching Dru now. Never one to understand humans, Miss Charlesburg didn't quite get the expressions on their faces, but Your Average Sap, the girl Dru was so suddenly becoming, told her they were proud. She said it with some snidey 'tude in her voice though, so Dru believed it. Even a nice version of herself was mean. Go figure, what. a. shocker. A version of Dru being rude and turning her nose up at the universe.

as it softly speaks
then it walks,
then it walks with my legs
To Fall,
To Fall,
To Fall, at your feet.

Setting aside her sulking, sarcastic musings, Dru casually swam closer to Aranica as her eyes refocused. Their diamond-like glimmer returned as she came back into herself. Dru wanted to see what the person who haunted her, who loved her, who she loved thought of this sudden word-vomit. Saying thanks when Aranica was about to destroy her didn't seem like a Dru-ish thing to do. Would there be love or hate or some other mysterious emotion on Ara's face?

This had to be a trick. Dru the Stoic Warrior could not be thankful and happy right now, she simply could not be that. The thing was that it was true. For the first time in awhile, Dru was happy, she was actually thankful for being. She was going to die, her body was buzzing with unfelt pain, and Aranica was going to be watching her when Dru took her final breath.

Oh but for the grace of god go on
And when you're with me,
I'm happy enough to die.

Was there something to be unhappy about? Nothing, nope. Here they were, just like so many had predicted. The Dynamic Duo who had not been turned against each other even in the end. Dru was killing Ara and Ara was certainly killing Dru but they still managed to love each other. She recoiled from the very idea of being angry at Aranica in her last moments on earth. The notion that Dru Charlesburg should be feeling betrayed and hurt by this physical fight was ridiculous. For the second time in about a minute Dru felt the urge to scream 'blasphemy.'

There was no force in the world that could make her hate Aranica with all of her heart. The Capitol had naturally caused a small portion of her being to want Aranica dead, but they had never changed her love to hate. That was another small victory against the people Miss Charlesburg the Career was starting to hate more and more as time wore on.

I'm not calling you a liar,
Just don't lie to me.
Ain't i'll love you so much,
I'm gonna let you
I'm not calling you a thief,

The Capitol, those ones with their expensive possesions, beautiful surgery and clouded minds. The Capitol with their sadistic, evil Gamemakers and calculating government officials. Their Peacekeepers who enjoyed harassing pretty girls like Dru. She had never connected the dots, never thought about how cruel the Capitol was to Dru specifically. They put her down, kept her down and had done their best to take away the things that mattered. Her lavish clothing, her hot body and her little minion, Ara.

It seemed petty and typical of a teenager to worry about what their clothes and body would look like after the light had faded from their eyes and they literally shrunk. When death set in, nobody was beautiful but Dru had hoped to still be pretty. The third thing the Capitol had tried to take from Dru was proof that there was more than the surface image of the Career. Aranica. Her soulmate, the one thing they had not succeeded in ripping from her. While her clothes were covered in layer upon layer of grossness, while her body bled out and prepared itself for the eternal sleep, Dru still had a mind to love Ara.

Just stop,
And i'll love you so much,
I'm gonna let you,
Oh,
I'm not calling you a ghost,
Just stop...

Typical teenagers weren't like Dru, they could not say they had met their soulmate. Most assumed that your souls mate had to have romantic, returned feelings for you too. Not so. Dru was miffed to realize that if she had done anything this past week, she had taught people something. That made her like a teacher or something, but anyways the lesson was that you don't need to constantly be in search of a significant other. Sometimes its just your best friend, your blood sister who means the most to your soul and is your truest love.

What had she said about being sentimental and mush before? Dru banished those sticky-sweet thoughts from her mind. She knew Aranica was hers and she assumed the feelings were mutual. No need to dwell on the obvious. Dru decided to use her time wisely by once again indulging her word-vomit tendency. "Goodbye," Dru slowly told the world. She felt like a childrens book. Goodbye mom, goodbye dad. Goodbye lovely, lovely friends. Goodbye home. Goodbye Arena and goodbye falchion. Goodbye moon, goodbye sun--oh god, goodbye little droplets of water. They still cheered for her. The ocean was still whispering and holding Dru up while she ignored her own banishment of sticky-sweet thoughts and continued to say goodbye to the world, in her head.

there's a ghost in my mouth and it talks in my sleep
wraps itself around my tongue as it softly speaks
then it walks,
then it walks,
then it walks with my legs

Finally there were tears trickling down her face. They were hidden by the mask she had been wearing for the length of the fight, but Dru was terribly conscious of them. She reached up to touch one of the small drops of water, felt her legs go stiff and Dru found herself sinking. She started to do the dog-paddle, not just aimlessly swimming around now. She was going toward Aranica Petros now. It was time to say her final parting words. Goodbye Ara.

Strangely the tears that might have or might not have been falling down her face at the moment were of happiness. It was all going to be over, if the universe decided to finally take mercy on Drus place where her soul should be. She was smiling and crying like a bride on the wedding day, just uttered her vows and was finally going to seal the deal with a long awaited, passionate...

...slash at the girl who had stolen her heart, using her beloved falchion. See? Soulmates really don't need to be romantic.

to fall...
at your feet
oh but for the grace of god go on
and when you're with me I am happy enough

ATTACKS ARANICA [dice=156+3653000]

ooc- there we go

[rand=1377669081557542050544594414532185899534513242542720240229344926775]

[WT]

((OOC- Eeeeeew. The only thing that redeemed this post was how much fun I had tossing random Metric references in. Still sucks, though. Sorry.))

The dart was on target, headed for Dru's eye. Ara watched it with bated breath (well, even-more-bated than it already was), her heart thumping wildly as the milliseconds sped by. On the one hand, if it made it, this would all be over and Dru would be safe from the clouds, but on the other- um, on the foot, for Dru to be safe she had to be dead, and that thought was not becoming any easier as the fight progressed.

Dru moved backwards, and the dart whizzed by- close, but not fatal. Whatever runaway train had grabbed Aranica's heart slowed and allowed her to get off; her pulse didn't calm, because she really needed blood to be pumping right now, but it did stabilize. Dru was alive, and she was moving away to recoup. They had a few more moments, at least. If only it could be a few moments of peace and quiet, rather than this chronic confrontation they were locked in.

Send us a blindfold, send us a blade
Tell the survivors help is on the way
I was a blindfold, never complained
All the survivors singing in the rain
I was the one with the world at my feet
Got us a battle, leave it up to me

Dru laughed, and Aranica smiled faintly and closed her eyes so she could soak up as much of the sound as she could. She wasn't used to her sister-friend giggling, but it sounded a whole heck of a lot more natural than that scary cloud-laugh from earlier. It was kind of like when you were used to hearing someone speak English, and then they switched to German; the sounds were different, but you knew the voice and the tone. Whatever else was trying to control her body, this was still her Dru.

A slight giggle escaped her mouth, along with a very faint memory of dancing in the rain with an adult and laughing. She must have been very young then, or she never would have dared to go out in the rain, even with another person there so they could keep each other safe; looking back, it was foolish, but she could tell it had made her happy at the time.

She opened her eyes and grinned at Dru, oddly cheered by that ghost of a remembrance. She couldn’t recall her past very often, but it always made her sort of happy when she could- even now, when it was hard to be happy. It seemed that not much had changed in the past- what, seven years? Six? She couldn’t place the memory exactly. Rain, check (although it was a lot more ominous now). Family member, check- then that man, maybe her father or an older brother, and now Dru, her sister. Laughing, check. Dancing, check, although the more recent dance wasn’t exactly a conventional dance. Traditional dances didn’t involve weapons or bodily fluids. Still, what was dancing but turning with your partner, anticipating their moves and pairing them with your own? Aranica could not imagine them doing anything differently if they were at a ball, her in skirt and blouse and Dru in a cute little backless strapless gown. Even right now, when they weren’t fighting, they were kind of circling each other, their motions half-symmetrical.

For a moment, the little Petros girl had absolutely nothing to complain about. Dru was laughing and she was laughing and even the rock and the water had managed to fight the clouds off long enough for a small break so they could laugh along. The world wouldn’t let them go, but that was okay because they didn’t need to go anymore; between themselves they had everything they needed. Everything was okay. They didn’t need help- they were helping themselves.

Find us a trap door, find us a plane
Tell the survivors help is on the way
I was a blindfold, never complained
All the survivors singing in the rain
I was the one with the world at my feet
Got us a battle, leave it up to me

Naturally but unfortunately, the clouds wouldn’t let her float away like that for long; the moment she got a little too serene, lightning flashed and a crack of thunder followed. She half-shrieked, and caught herself looking around for an escape before she remembered what was going on. Being happy had lulled her, made her stop thinking; she had actually almost forgotten that she and Dru were bleeding profusely and on their way to death. That was a mistake; she had to be able to help them, since Dru was mostly-incapacitated by now.

Ha. I have to help us. We’re doomed. Rock, ocean, I don’t suppose you have reinforcements somewhere in this Arena?

There was a long silence.

Yeah. I was afraid of that. No use complaining about it anymore, though. They had long since passed the act-or-die p-

More lightning (it was a wonder they hadn’t both electrocuted by now, but the cloud/Capitol coalition probably found it more amusing to watch them fight out), followed by thunder, cut off her train of thought. The clouds were mocking her and her fragile convictions. Ara glared upward, but said nothing; at this point, she had no breath for words.

Apparently Dru did, though. Aranica moved her gaze away from the clouds and furrowed her brow in bemused curiosity. Thanks? Thanks for what? Her lips moved to ask, but she couldn’t put breath and voice behind it. She wondered if Dru even knew what she was saying thanks for; the Career looked half-glazed, as dreamy as Aranica herself had been a moment ago.

She should have taken the opportunity to whack at her sister-friend, but she didn’t, couldn’t. Instead she hung back and just watched the District One tribute. Beautiful Dru, her imperfect hero, broken and bleeding but still managing to smile. Against the dark clouds and deeper water, she was as pale as some strangely-shaped st- no, not a star. The stars were hidden right now, and anyway, their beauty was fake. One thing she remembered learning in school that broke her heart was that stars burned out long before Panem ever saw their light, and Dru was most certainly not a burnt-out star. She was more like... like a piece of quartz. Hard but lovely, lighting up the cavern even as she faded away.

Rock, is it okay if I make her an honorary rock like me?

I can’t see why not. She’d make a good one.

That was something, at least- the highest honor she could give her sister-friend. It was hard to shift her face into a smile, but she did it. “You’re an honorary r-rock, Dru,” she managed. “If- if you want.” If you're willing. Ara hoped so.

What it is and where it stops nobody knows
You gave me a life I never chose
I wanna leave but the world won't let me go
Wanna leave but the world won't let me go

You're tired of this?

She couldn't manage true anger at the clouds, not anymore, but she raised her tired mental voice anyway. She ought to feign, to show them that she wasn't beaten if for no other reason. Define 'this'. Life? Fighting Dru? You and your stupid alliance with the Capitol that's killing us both?

They didn't answer that, instead going on as if she'd never spoken. You could get out any time.

I know that, morons. Freedom had been both in reach and horribly distant for the entire fight; on one foot, she knew where her eye was and she knew how to fire the dart gun, but on the other, killing herself would neither save Dru from the clouds nor be fair to either of them. She could feel it racing closer now, but it no longer comforted her- now it was a scary idea, all but synonymous with death. Probably Dru’s death, in which case Ara strongly suspected she would never really be released; she could easily see herself trapped in this Arena for the rest of her life, reliving these moments with thousands of variations and alternate endings.

Dru seemed to know it, too (were the cloud-assassins inside her holding a similar conversation?). Goodbye. Ara flinched away from the word, squeezing her eyes shut as though that could protect her. Why did it have to be like this? Why did they have to get snapped apart so violently? It wasn't fair. Blasted clouds. She'd rip them out of the sky and beat the Capitol over the head with them if she could.

W-

She wouldn't be able to sustain it for long, but now she was angry. The District Twelve girl turned away and scrunched her eyes shut, her mostly-hidden face set in a snarl. Go away, clouds. Just let us go!

I was the one with the world at my feet
Got us a battle, leave it up to me
Leave it up to me

The rock suddenly blasted into her head. It wasn't exactly impatient, but it did have a sense of urgency about its mind-voice that she couldn't ignore. Move, Aracina, while you still have enough soul to do so.

The old consonant-switching nickname caught her attention, and she snapped her eyes open in time to see Dru coming at her with a falchion. She twisted, but didn’t get away entirely, resulting in a cut on her leg. She gasped as Dru fell back, taking in some of the surrounding ocean/blood/vomit/tears mixture, which she spat out quickly. The pain faded, as did the moment of danger, and she started to let herself drift again.

Aranica!

Right. Move. Move! Ara struggled upward, forcing herself to take stock of the situation. Her dancing partner was fading quickly. No one else was coming to help them and carry them away. It was up to Aranica, then, to finish this. She had to bring their dance to a close, and if she wanted to be polite she had to do it quickly so she and Dru could get some rest and the musicians could rest and get out of the rain.

If they were on land, her fantasies might have carried her away, and she might have actually twirled her imaginary skirt as she approached Dru. The Games had matured her in their awful way, but surely there was some vestige of the old her- surely on some level she was still silly enough to outstretch her hand and offer a polite bow and say "May I have the last dance?" through her sad smile. Like so much else, though, she couldn't do that; she was swimming, and swimming one-armed at that. There was no energy to spin (heck, she could no longer even move her legs quickly enough to keep her head above water while she aimed), and even with her eyes closed she couldn't hide from herself the truth of the situation. The feel of rain, the ominous pressure of the clouds in her mind, the acrid smell of vomit and blood and salt, the ever-present memories of her dead friends, the pounding pain in her half-arm and the aches all over the rest of her body- one she could ignore, but not all of them.

The best she could do, as she kicked herself forward, was put a certain lilt in her voice. Aranica had never sung in her life, and she could barely speak through the pain and exhaustion, but even so there was something faintly musical about her voice. Music does not, after all, have to be happy.

She couldn't say make herself say goodbye, but she could smile faintly and move her half-arm in imitation of a wave. "Love you, Dru."

Aranica Petros came to a stop right before her crying sister-friend and began cycling her legs as quickly as she could to free up her remaining arm. Before her legs could tire, and before she could lose her determination to end this for them both, she lunged forward and struck out.

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