a song of bone ● euley v. zombie [day 3]

[d8a lucia ✃ valentine ✁ tris]

The evening passes in silence. A lazy haze settles over the alliance once they finish setting up camp, unpacking their items and tying down their sleigh for the night. Euley removes the plant-hedgehogs from their harnesses, taking the time to stroke each of them under the chin in a show of gratitude. "Don't wander too far." She rolls her shoulders with a yawn, limbs stretched, and she smiles faintly. There's still blood on her boots, still a dark cloud that has taken position above the four of them, but she's never been one for repentance. A dead beast and a dead girl; she's forgotten the difference between the two. A corpse is a corpse. Different scars, same ending.

Red flowers are traded for springs of steaming water, and when things are more settled, she might finally have the chance to unwind. First, she focuses on her allies. Fresh bandages are reapplied over Isaac's cuts, followed by new stitches and adjustments to those that were torn during their fight. She doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to thank her, and she doesn't need to coddle him. All it takes is a palm against his face, a warm expression and a gentle nod. To love a bomb is to let it detonate. She walks away, sitting down to clean her crampons and not bothering to remove them from her feet. Her focus and whistling is interrupted by confused murmurs, however, and she lifts her gaze to see Violetta holding a new weapon.

She chuckles to herself, rising up and strolling over with a friendly smirk. "You look like a lost kitten, Vi," she starts, reaching out a hand to cup Violet's cheek and running a thumb over the flushed skin. There's nothing taunting about her voice, no judgment. To nurture is foreign for her, but it's also familiar; she's raised wolves from infancy and trained them to hunt their prey. How difficult can it be to teach a rabbit to do the same? "C'mon," she continues, spinning on her heels and walking away from their campsite. "I've got nothing better to do." She waves for her ally to join her, nodding to Violet's crampons once she finally joins Euley. "Let's teach you how to put those to good use, hmm?"

Her grip is awkward, unsure and anxious and it almost pains Euley to watch. Not because it means Violet is lesser, not because the girl's abilities determine her worth, but the display of such low confidence is saddening. The Salazar heiress admits to not being able to move like Euley, but what does that matter? No two wildfires have the same flames. "Don't move like me, then. You need to find your own center." She closes the distance between them, taking hold of Violet's wrists and adjusting the stance of her limbs, urging her palms to grasp the weapons more confidently. Without fear. "You've got some experience with a knife, yeah? Use that to your advantage."

The dance of a rose and a serpent, she positions herself behind Violet and wraps her arms around the girl. She takes control of Salazar's hands and guides her through a few swinging techniques. "These are larger than what you're used to, but the technique still works. It's harder to miss, yeah?" She untangles herself, going back to face the younger tribute and speaking with passion. "It's not about grace. There's nothing beautiful about keeping yourself alive." A stray strand of dark hair is tucked behind Violet's ear. "Be wild. Swing with everything you've got, and don't be afraid to show your teeth. You're a storm." Thunder roars and lightning flashes; this is the ballet of a woman.

"I'll try, but it feels more like I'm a light drizzle.
Jacinta was the storm."

Such innocence, a garden snake in a pit of vipers — and Euley still means what she said. She could eat Violet up. "Oh, darling," and she laughs. Thunderous and proud. "We're all storms. Each of us. You just have to find out what kind you are." ( "What kind are you?" ) She grins, leaning forward to place a kiss atop Violet's head. "I'll tell you one day." And she will, she promises. Through ice or fire or a rising flood; she will tell her companion the truth. Just not yet. Not until the hourglass has shattered and the time has come to finally sleep. She stays only long enough to watch a few more of the girl's swings, pursing her lips, and then she's gone. The sky starts to clear.

---

Hours later, with their tent raised against the wind and its many terrors, Euley realizes that she's ready to approach Aeson. She hears home in the howling; she does not cower from the wolves. He stands by a spring, smoke wrapping around his ankles and his attention focused on a new pair of gloves. She doesn't wait for him to turn around. "Did you think I was going to let you die?" She circles him as he moves to match her gaze, closing the space between them and not allowing herself to be afraid of his gravitational pull. He can't stomach her. ( "Never would've thought you were weak enough to let a fucking goat do your dirty work." ) She rolls her eyes, reaching for his hand and removing one of the gloves.

His knuckles are kissed tenderly, fearless in the presence of such a dangerous tool — and she eases the tension with a quiet chuckle. "You're not trying to live up to what Twelve said, are you? You're not a drama queen." She pauses, placing the glove back on his hand and securing it more comfortably than he had it originally. There's tension in the air, an unjustified anger, and it's not that she actually cares. There's no love between them, no sleep lost over the thought of losing his trust, but Euley is nothing if not an honest woman. She'd never stab a man from the back. "And I don't want you to die." That isn't how their game works. "Not yet, Aeson."

Sighing, she tackles the accusation and places all her cards on the table. "Let's talk about what happened. No, I didn't notice where the goat was charging. And, no, you didn't need my help. Just look at you. What can't you face on your own?" A finger runs across the dried blood on his skin, resting on his lips and then suddenly they're inhaling the same air. She can feel the static. "If you think I'd let something take you away, then you're mistaken. I'm the only person who can steal you from me. Isn't that our rule? We live for the other and we die just the same." She kisses him, gentle and hungry all at once. A wolf wearing the skin of a fox, sly and quick and unable to be captured. She'll let him hold her.

Nothing else needs to be said. No remark of acceptance follows her explanation. He returns her embrace and they give in to their passion for one minute, two, three, four — until Hell is as cold as it is warm. The water around them is burning and the ground is freezing. It's okay. He knows her loyalty. The rift closes, though they're still as distant as ever, and the snarl of his features fades away to something softer. He's the boy with night terrors again, not the murderer, and this is not love. It's not to be confused with such a pure emotion. This is just the nature of a hound and a huntress. They're a team. To rage together is their calling. Come midnight, her limbs stay wrapped around his torso. Even after the nightmares leave him.

Even after she ignores all the warning signs.

---

Euley wakes that morning to find only Violet asleep in their tent, shrugging off the worried thought that they've been abandoned by Aeson and Isaac while they were sleeping. Her lost boys have always been a brooding sort, prone to sulking in dark corners and spending time alone with just themselves. The existential questions they ask their reflections don't concern her. The sun sets each night and still rises again come dawn. Euley exits their shelter and leaves her ally to rest, pulling her fur coat tighter around her form and focusing on the situation at hand. There are sounds in the distance, but no signs of her missing allies. She walks away to an isolated spring, perching on the stone that surrounds it and dipping her unclothed feet into the warm water.

She remains in a relaxed trance for a short span of minutes, until the crunch of snow just across from her resting place makes an approaching figure known. She scoffs, preparing to scold either Aeson or Isaac for being so theatrical and running off on their own without warning, but then she squints through all the mist that's rising in front of her vision. Blonde hair flies around a round face, too long and too fair to be either of her missing allies. Bruised skin peeks out from beneath a torn ski suit, far from rotten or severely damaged — but the creature's head droops to the side at an unnatural angle, arms hanging by its waist without any balance, and its shrieks tell Euley that this isn't a tribute. She's memorised all of her enemies in the arena. This one is a new threat.

Pillar Fray called herself deathless, once.

This is the genesis of a dying girl;
this is the revelation of a corpse.

( euley attacks killar flay; spiked blunt )
6ohgcCWfspiked blunt
( MISS -- 0.0 damage )

accuracy | day 3

spiked blunt
( MISS -- 0.0 damage )

spiked blunt�spiked blunt

[✨]

I awake rotting,
to the tune of something
beautifully maddening.

I spin,
around and around,
in the snow.

The world is blurry, cold, frightening - 
and it warms me.

Around and around and around,
I can remember my bones breaking
and my body decaying,
around and around,
I follow the sound.

Twist, my organs,
my spine,
my neck.

I want to reach out and twist
her beautiful head off
wherever she is.

I'll find her.

Snow, cold, screaming children.

Wind her up and watch her dance,
I think I used to dance.

Around and around and around I walk
leaving footprints
and my rotting skin
in the snow.

The sound gets louder with every step I take.
Find the ballerina
twirling in the snowstorm.

Her song twinkles,
the world is white.

I want to watch it turn red,
and I smile at that thought
spear held out in front of me,
like a warrior-

I'm hungry for
death
vengeance
silence.

Ballerina blue,
wrapped in fur
and pride.

I see her on the horizon,
I hold my head high
and think about ripping hers off.

Her song gets louder,
I laugh to drown it out
until I cough up blood.

My chest is hollow,
there's nothing there.
Nothing left.

Am I dead?
I want death.

I want-

I want-

to kill the ballerina.

She swings, a swansong.
And she's beautiful,
but I'm
more.

I laugh,
feeble attempt.

Ballerina doesn't know that
I'm deathless.
I'm death.

I think I'm dead.

"Death..."

I think I'm-

I think,

I know.

I'm

"Deathless."

pillar slay attacks euley; spear/ski pole
j|ZJwkU5spear
deep gash on left forearm 8

spear

[d8a lucia ✃ valentine ✁ tris]

Her movements are graceless in that moment, tripping over herself as she runs to gather her discarded crampons and having no time to equip them to her feet — of course her swing misses its target. She scolds herself for being so shaken, reminds herself that this is just a cruel joke. She has no qualms with desecrating a grave. It seems this mockery of Pillar shares her apathy. Euley's stitches are torn open with a fierce swipe of the dead girl's spear, and she's unable to choke back the scream that escapes her lips. A red stream leaks from the sleeve of her coat, staining the snow. She doesn't look for the beauty in her own slaughter.

"Deathless."

Euley cackles at that, hair in her face and eyes on fire; this is the harmony of bone and wolf. One song for two sins. She debates conversing with the creature, lecturing it on the harsh reality of things, but it already knows the truth. There's nothing to be done for those that wish to remain ignorant. Still, from her kneeling position, she sees an opportunity to regain the advantage and takes it. She kicks Pillar's legs out from beneath her, causing her to fall near the edge of the spring. "Look at yourself," Euley barks. Her crampons and boots are equipped to her feet during the confusion, and she continues to urge the muttation to see its reflection in the water.

"We're all dying," she spits, rising back up and looking down at Pillar. "We get one chance at life, and then we're gone. You already had yours." There's pity in her voice, anger and a strange form of fear; she thought she understood death. Maybe she doesn't. It's terrifying, to think such a sacred thing could be interrupted. This is not murder, and this not dying. This is resurrection. She's finally found something that disturbs her about the Games, and it's almost humbling. No one deserves this. She doesn't care if it's just a monster wearing a corpse's skin. It's more than just an illusion. It's a step too far, a shift in the balance of nature, and she won't allow it to remain.

"I'm sorry," and she is. Truly and bitterly and still somehow emotionless. The ice returns for her, freezing her pain and her fury. Her focus returns, lowering to the proper stance, and she calms her breathing. "Why didn't you stay gone, Pillar?" When she goes, she makes a promise to never let her body come back. Her soul will be in the wind, in the mountains, in the sun and the moon and everything between. That's the only fate a woman deserves; to become the world. Not this. The game has to end eventually. The long sleep is a promise that should not be broken. "Stand up, Pillar. Look at me." And it's an echo. She launches forward — backward through time.

"Go strong."

( euley attacks killar; spiked blunt )
RZLlgB1Qspiked blunt
( BROKEN RIGHT FOOT -- 6.5 damage + 1 Mutt-Tamer [7.5] )

spiked blunt

[✨]

Ballerina
bites back.

And she howls,
I can hear her voice
but I don't understand
what she's saying.

Her song is
deafening.

Her beauty,
blinding.

I'm-
threatened
a threat.

Her weapon finds my foot
and slams right through rotting flesh
and disintegrating bone.

I slump,
my ankle,
snaps in two,

I snap,
but my limbs are slow
sluggish,
drowning,
in her song.

She sings
about strength
and I want her to stop.

She lashes out.
The snow falls,
I with it.

I find a bed in the ice.

She kicks me to the ground
and then tells me to climb.

I'm confused,
tired,
angry.

She talks a lot
and I can't talk back
I want to sing
I want to dance.

I watch a snowflake fall,
dancing in the sky.

Around and around
and around and around
and around and
around
and

"Strong."

I want to dance,
swordplay.

Memories, I wonder what they're like.
They taste like acid.

More, more, I'm more
than this.

I was more than this
I am more than this.

Around and around
and around
and
around
and

"Strong."

It's all I can say,
my voice is an echo,

"Go."

of a ghost
and her violent
bitter
heartless
murderess ways.

pillar slay attacks euley; spear/ski pole
|BFQg5xrspear
shallow cut on left forearm 3.5

spear

[d8a lucia ✃ valentine ✁ tris]

"Go."

No scream comes — when Pillar's spear hits the same spot as before, Euley braces for impact and leans backward just enough to avoid being gashed deeply. She can handle the stinging that follows; the hot rush that runs up the length of her arm and ricochets through her bones. Fire kisses ice and water begins to rise, the earth sings as it breaks beneath the flood, but a witch has control over all the elements. This will not become her pyre. She won't die for a dead girl. ( 'Then die for something else.' ) She will. Just not for this.

Her crampons dig into the snow, a crunch of winter and a snap of ribs. Organs start to erupt — a heart refuses to be silenced. Red presses against white, bloated skin and lifeless eyes, but that's the nature of supernovae. No beautiful thing lasts forever. Roses wilt and oceans dry and all the stars in the sky are dying; they're already gone. Just blink once and they've disappeared. Euley wants to live like that. Such a loud, bright existence. Such a cold, sudden end. She lowers herself, gloves against the ground, and she chills herself. She wants to know she's still alive.

"I'm not going," she says coolly. There's no use being gentle. Her words are heard only by the wind, understood only by the mountains, and she has nothing to gain from fighting with her tongue. It won't cause any harm. It won't send a corpse back to its grave. It's just comforting to hear herself over all the howling, the low groans and hissed breaths. She doesn't want to be afraid. It's foolish, almost sad, but she starts to hum to herself. A soft whistle, a melody without reason; but is there any need for one? To keep fighting is enough. A storm stops for nothing.

And she launches forward once more, leg outstretched and her weapon seeking flesh. This is just an animal. Nothing more than a muttation wearing a strange set of armor. She has just as much metal on her body, the same willpower and strength, and this is Euley's chance for victory. Not Pillar's. All stories have to end eventually. The chapters can't continue for an eternity. This is the epilogue of a ghost. Scarlet letters on dried parchment, a book bound by torn leather — but a memoir is a memoir no matter the beauty of it. She'll write her own scripture on glass, throw it into the sea.

No one needs to read her truth;
it belongs to the world.

( euley attacks killar; spiked blunt )
JU7sStsOspiked blunt
( BROKEN RIGHT KNEE -- 7.0 damage + 1 Mutt-Tamer [8.0] )

spiked blunt

[✨]

I stumble
into her strike
and my bones crunch
underneath the weight of her violence.

Tipping forward,
the world throws itself back.

I wanted to think
that I was strong
meant to stand forever,
holding myself up
like pillars.

She called me a pillar,
struck me down.
I don't understand.

And here I am
and there she is
standing above me -
mighty.

I'm small.

I'm rotting.

I'm crumbling,
dismantled skeleton.

I just want to dance
and she takes my feet
from under me,

maybe this is dancing.
Maybe duelling is dancing.

Around and around and around,
such violent music we chose
to dance to
to die to.

She's
maddening.

I look up at her,
she's a statue,
golden.

We're mirrors,
a pillar
and Pillar.

"I'm not going anywhere" she claims,
good.

I'm starving.

There's something about
the way she stands above me
that I adore.

And I'm hungry for more.

pillar slay attacks euley; spear/ski pole
y|_CC7Ccspear
stabbed in stomach 9.5

spear

[d8a lucia ✃ valentine ✁ tris]

And she has heard what the wolves sing.

A howl in a winter storm — a hot flash of pain in the pit of her stomach, a red stream running down the length of her legs. She holds herself in the way a mother would comfort a wounded child; because Euley raised herself. She's her own family, her own guardian, and she's not ashamed to mourn herself. There's blood on her lips, hands shaking against her abdomen, but she's still alive. She knows the truth of dying. You're not dead until there's nothing left to feel. And the agony is real, a searing wave that runs up and down her body, and she wraps it around herself. She'll be a wildfire.

"I said I'm not going," she barks, a spray of crimson following her words, and her voice is torn and tired. She's never felt anything like this, never been in such a low and weakened state, but she won't stop. She won't just give up because her enemy has a better deck of cards. Euley doesn't make promises that she can't keep. She's not a gambling woman, but she's not a coward, either. She'll put all her coins on the table, call her own bluff, and she'll play the game. This is what she volunteered for. She came to die — and to murder. She's grateful that she can experience both.

She winces as she lowers herself into the fighting stance once more, feeling an intensified burning shoot through her veins. An arrow cuts through her heart, but it's still screaming. It's still beating. "Do you remember your name, Pillar Fray?" she asks, knuckles bending and fingers curling against snow. "If you forget everything else, just remember your name." And there's something warm running down her cheeks, but it doesn't hurt. Euley Sarasin. There's no shame in breaking. She's not a stone. She's water, too, and fire and wind and earth. "You lived a good life."

Her leg shoots forward, too fierce and too fast to notice the ripping of her skin. She just wants this to be over. Both of them do. And the world is silent, a clap of thunder and then the rain goes mute. Everything's illuminated, two threads connect and one starts to tear. She hopes it snaps, that the existence is finally over and that a ghost can find peace. Euley isn't ready to go. She holds to her lifeline and wraps it around her wrist, begs it to stay strong and not to go. ( "Don't go strong. Don't go at all." ) But all birds have to leave when winter comes. It's time.

"Now die a good death."

( euley attacks killar; spiked blunt )
qwxp4vaEspiked blunt
( DEEP GASH ON RIGHT FOREARM -- 8.0 damage + 1 Mutt-Tamer [9.0] )

spiked blunt

[d8a lucia ✃ valentine ✁ tris]

Filler.

( euley flees the fight;
more in tribute-maintenance )