no light, no light [day 3: second star vs darlings]

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

Always told you not to love me
Now look what you made me do
I got poison in my pocket,
told you I was bad news

She winced in pain slightly, but it was a muted action. Despite being in the heat of battle, Ike felt no rush of fire, no adrenaline burning in her veins. Only a dark, cold emptiness—it had bloomed inside her long ago, and now its roots reached to the ends of her soul.

For a moment, she hesitated and asked herself why she was still fighting. There was no need to attack them to protect Faline and Mackenzie; it was her and Wynter who were being targeted. But if she dropped her spear and surrendered, she was letting Wynter die. She didn't like Wynter, truth be told, but she didn't hate her, either. Unlike Ike, Wynter wanted to live, and who was she to help them take that chance away from her? If she stopped fighting now, she would be throwing Wynter to the wolves, in a way.

She shrugged at her attacker, the blonde girl whose district and name she didn't know. "Go ahead and try," Ike told the girl, her voice flat with apathy. She had no love or admiration for warrior types, for the vicious, ruthless nature of Careers. Ike was not a girl of fire; Jacinta had tried to advise her that a certain ruthlessness was necessary, but she didn't want to make it home.

"I didn't volunteer to win," Ike explained, as if facing death was a nonchalant matter. She stood on the brink of death, looked down into the abyss and saw it staring right back at her. But she was not afraid—not anymore.

[Ike attacks Lavina with spear]
gY8StVW4spear
[3023 -- Shallow Cut on Right Thigh -- 3.5 damage]

My demeanor made you wait,
but the consequences stayed
I killed everything we were
Baby, murder was a case

song: 27 hours

spear

[Lyn𝛿is]

∞
tell me do you remember
the games and the laughter
far from the choices we'd have to make
∞

Florence tells you to stop but you can't. You won't, you think with every fiber in your veins - they would claim your life as though it was their birthright, if you let them; they'd snuff out Florence, too, with a spear straight through the heart, unless you stood in front of her and made them hate you instead.

It was too late to stand aside, anyways.

Did she think her innocence would protect her, when innocence was what Careers loved most to destroy?

It hurts, perhaps, to know she might hate you for your choices, but what would it matter, if you took the high ground and -

- if they slaughtered you it wouldn't matter if you felt guilty or innocent about fighting them.

I'm gonna slit your throat!

And you can't help but cheer, watching her get angrier and angrier, her swings striking air; you never imagined a girl who'd trained for this being so much weaker, under all the arrogance.

"ని మొహం you are,"

You laugh at her incompetence; the thought of some high-and-mighty warrior felled by you and Florence makes your heart hammer with exhilaration, drowning out the burning of Seven's blade.

"Go on, I dare you. Or are empty threats all you're good at, Two?"

[Neela attacks Wynter with spear]

K|1LCB0Wspear

Accuracy:

spearspear�spear

[✨ zozo.]

feels like
the world's made of letters
so why do i feel so constrained
by my words?

The universe mocks me.

Teaching a kid how to stand tall, how to hold her arms, how to swing her closed fists into a punch. Holding a silver blade against another and threatening her end, all too eager to slice her neck open. Telling this girl I'll slit her throat.

"What are you doing?!" shrieks Florence, and as I leap from the ground her spear meets my throat and air spills from the gaping, jagged wound beneath my chin.

I become my desires.

"H-h-h...el...p..."

Blood fills the back of my throat and I gasp, choking on my own blood - I stumble backwards, clutching at the wound with my good hand, my lungs scream but no sound leaves my mangled vocal chords. This is it. This is death.

My opponent mocks me. Says my words are empty. I try to spit back courage but all I can do is gurgle, blood hot on my lips and my fingers.

Silence, like I always wanted - but I didn't mean my own. The universe is laughing now, and I'm scared -- really, truly, scared, unable to breathe, unable to cry out and stop it all. All I want is my sister, and the thought of her brings sharp tears that spill violently from the corners of my eyes - they're desperate, ashamed, honest.

They speak for me, saying what I cannot say.

I don't want to die.

A canon fires in the distance and I wait for the sound of my own death.

if it's something you gotta pay for
then heaven wasn't made for me
if i gotta be saved for
then heaven wasn't made for me

song: terror jr

table by dars!

wynter attacks neela; knife
7p3jA|dDknife
shallow cut 3.5

knife

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

Always told you not to love me
Now look what you made me do
I got poison in my pocket,
told you I was bad news

She was begging.

She was stuttering, she was afraid, she was weak, and bleeding. She was hopeless, and looked terrified, and Mackenzie's heart broke for her. She was staggering around, coughing and wheezing. She was—

She was dying.

No longer the ides of Wynter, spring would soon come, and she would be gone. And she would stay gone, and Mackenzie should not have fucking cared. Two days ago, she'd placed a knife right next to Faline's jugular and threatened her life. Mackenzie was supposed to hate her. So why didn't he?

Leave it to someone as stupid and as fucked up as him to start caring about someone who literally wanted to murder him. To find compassion for someone who might not even know the difference.

But, to be fair, they'd survived something together. He remembered reading that somewhere once: surviving something together brings people closer. As he ran to Wynter, catching her so that she would not fall, he thought of the ship. He thought of those monsters of the sea, of the unmistakable limp that still followed Faline today. He thought of Ike, spinning around like a hurricane, ripping down anything in her path.

He thought of Wynter's eyes, and how he was looking directly into them when a piece of the ship collapsed and separated them.

He'd thought they were dead, both Wynter and Ike, but they had survived. They had all survived. And now, he was forced to wonder: for what? To die another day? Was this all just justification? The Capitol wanted to see tributes play with fire, forced them to. And then they punished them when they got burned.

"I've got you," Mackenzie said to Wynter, knowing damn well he didn't. Call it a savior complex if you want, he did not care. He did not want Wynter to die. So he attacked back.

He turned to the other girl, the one who had started all of this in the first place.

"And you," he growled, "You bet your ass that I've got you too."

My demeanor made you wait,
but the consequences stayed
I killed everything we were
Baby, murder was a case

song: 27 hours

[mackenzie attacks neela; spear]
THB|PRVQspear
[result]

spear

[Sleepy Fluttershy]

Florence's head was spinning from the mess going on around - and inside her. Everything was not supposed to be like it was - but there was no stopping it now. Blood all around, Wynter's life hanging by a thread after another unthoughtful strike of her spear. And all this talk about her nonexistent innocence.

"Murder is still murder, kid. Pleading 'not guilty' doesn't change that."

Et cetera.

How old was that girl? Fourteen, just like Florence? They could be friends if they were given more time in the Capitol. But here they were, fighting on different sides for the sake of someone's entertainment.

"I am anything but innocent."

They could not imply she was not guilty, especially Stitch who knew there was a living creature's blood on her hands. She killed that spider, she drew that red line on Wynter's neck and it didn't matter that it was an accident, that it just happened. And by no means she wanted to clear her name. They were all a bloody, sweaty mess and she was no exception.

Stitch could say whatever he wanted about her ignorance but it wasn't true. Ignorance would be making choices that couldn't be fixed and not seeing it. She wished for a second she would fight like Lavina - not fearing others' deaths more than her own, making her way home.

Florence saw now that someone would fall in the end, and after that, she would probably hug a murderer. Fall asleep in the hands that kill her friend. And it would not be anyone else's fault. It was going to happen because she failed to keep peace among people she loved.

"If you want to kill someone, end me, not each other."

She felt like they wouldn't listen. She was too small and unimportant to take seriously. Florence couldn't bear watching Neela and Wynter trying to butcher each other, spitting out threats. And she wouldn't join her ally in killing a person she had never considered her enemy. So she hesitated and backed away from them.

The moment she stepped back, the sound of a cannon pierced her ears and Neela's body crumbled to the ground.

When I run, people die.

Last time it was Ping. Now her friend from eight. A cursed fourth spot in their little team, two broken fates.

One second to swallow tears, another second to raise her weapon again. It was not the time for mourning yet. Not while her friends were still in danger and Lavina the main target of Wynter's alliance. Florence knew she was never in the Arena to kill. But they left her no choice. If she didn't try to distract them, they could end Lavina's life too.

Florence Spark attacks Ike Tate with spear
BLYP765Aspear

3075 -- Shallow Cut on Right Bicep -- 3.5 damage
(Spear)

spear

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

the sea said goodbye to the shore,
so the sun wouldn't notice
the seaweed that wrapped
its arms around you

Detonation —
but I'm still here.
And I'm still burning.

Mackenzie, Ike, Wynter; they're still alive. That's all that matters right now. And it should hurt when I see the girl from Eight hit the ground so suddenly, I should be terrified of Mackenzie and the sight of the crimson spear in his grasp, but I feel nothing. I feel pride. The other alliance is right, we're all murderers — but I already know that. I just want them to know there's no use in crying, in begging for the fighting to stop. Don't raise a white flag with a sword in your other hand.

I ignore their words, returning to the shelter of my youth. Of my hypocrisy. What do I know? Just enough for me to make it another day. This is a blood sacrifice. I'm not here for glory, not here to claim I've figured out the rules to this game. I'm just here to escape, to set myself free. We're in a cage and I can see the key. I've seen my reflection in all this carnage. Harden my nails and sharpen my teeth — that's all I can do. To make myself taller, wiser and stronger and to be someone who isn't me.

Death arrives with cannon fire, here to claim a soul — but he lingers, circling us and waiting for another. And part of me knows it will be Wynter, sees a shadow kissing the wound on her neck, but I don't want her to go. Not yet, not like this. That's out of my control, something I have to accept. None of us will go peacefully, unafraid and without pain. But we'll be standing when we collapse. That counts for something. A ghost removes its grip on my throat, no blades and no threats and I'm no longer a hostage.

She's not my friend — but she's not my enemy. I ready my glaive, stepping forward and ignoring what I cannot avoid. What I need to understand. Wynter is going to die. Ike, too. And even... I can't say his name. I'm not ready for that. Let me fall before he does. Let us be the final two. Because if I have to go, I want to be in the arms of the first person to see the good in me. To care about me. And if I don't have the strength to bury him, then let the burden be his. Let me run.

( Let me be a skeleton key;
let me unlock his victory
— and then let me go. )

---

the books that I keep by my bags
are full of your stories that I drew up
from a little dream of mine,
a little nightmare of yours

song: Sloom - Of Monsters and Men

( faline attacks lavina; glaive )
4D0Vcl0aglaive
[Shallow Cut on Neck -- 4.0 damage]

glaive

[pup]

My blade swings down, grazing against the girl's hip as I curse inwardly to myself. I need to do better. I have to if I want to prove my worth to the trainers who spent their time fixing my form and teaching me. I have to if I want to survive.

Pumped up on adrenaline, I ready my blade again. I can't let Damon know that he is stronger than me. I won't let him know. This is my fight, my time to kill. Damon spends his time killing hookers. I'm better than that. I spend my time killing my enemies.

The rando who we picked up yesterday lunges forwards, slicing the girl we are assaulting. She's almost done. Then as she's off balance from a lunge, the hard faced boy from seven swiftly stabs her in the eye.

A canon booms.

My watch ticks down, ever nearing midnight.

Maybe you're right, Stitch, she was useful, I think to myself, grinning as I prepare to bring my blade down again, Sometimes you do need people to take hits for you.

A blade slicing across my neck brings me back from focus, out of my daydreams. Soon I will reach midnight, the moon high in the sky as I accept my crown from death. After that I will no longer need to fight, then I will just get to kill when I want. For now, I need to fight for that feeling. I need to fight to reach death's silken wings.

So I grin at the girl as she speaks.

"Don't worry, hun," I say, my voice heavy from the wounds inflicted on me, "I know full well you volunteered to die."

Then I swing at her.

"Since I was chosen to win."

[attacks ike tate w/ sword]
NiXnwdTFsword
[1157 -- Deep Gash on Right Thigh -- 8.0 damage
(Sword) + 1 for blades = 9.0]

table by ryan <33

sword

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

He was ready to end them all.

A boy who did not know what it was like to slice through another person.

But a boy that did know what it was like to kill something.

A hollow boy full of stardust that clung to his own sense of reality because it was easier than admitting that this was all ludicrous. That killing someone was going to make them stronger.

That showing people just how much of a black hole could be destructive.

His blade was clutched in his hands, and he was ready for the strike that would end someones life.

As much as he didn’t want to kill, he knew that it needed to happen. Someone needed to die in order for them to live.

And Stitch Gabel was ready to make that type of sacrifice.

For all of their sakes.

---

But then he watched a spear go into Neela’s eye, and he wondered what she might have done to deserve such a fate.

It was shocking, because he did not think it was time for her to die.

No.

He hoped that she would go on forever, fighting vicariously by his side until the moment that forever ended and reality started to set in.

But no.

The black hole known as Neela Chiffon collapsed in itself, and now there was nothing there.

No galaxy to travel.

No time to watch pass.

No planets to watch pass by.

She was just a hollow shell and Stitch for once felt like he was at a lost.

That was his last tie to eight here, and now she was gone.

---

And while he should have been mad, he couldn’t be.

Because moments later, the girl from seven fell, and all felt right in the universe.

Stitch pulled back his blade as he watched the girl from two clasp at her throat. Gasping for air.

”A life for a life.” Stitch said, knowing full well that the girl from seven did not equal Neela.

But for now it was going to have to do.

There would be no more killing.

There would be no more suffering.

No.

It was all over, for at least today.

The canons in the sky sounded and that was their cue to leave this place behind.

To explore a universe that would still be considered unknown to them.

”Tend to her. Take care of her. Treasure her.” Stitch threw his glaive back for a moment, looking at Lavina and Florence and wondering if any of this was worth it.

Did it accomplish anything?

The answer was no.

”If we meet again, be ready. Cause anything can happen.” He said, walking towards the girl from two and looking at her as she desperately clung to life.

He felt the weight of his district token on his neck, and while he was attached to it, he knew that there would always be more scarfs out there.

Ones that he could make with anything he want.

So he pulled it off his neck, crouching over the girl for just a moment. ”Here…” He was gentle, grabbing her free hand placing the scarf into it. He then pulled it over the wound on the neck, hovering it over where her hand was placed. ”Hold it here. Tightly.” He looked at her and then looked at Florence.

He needed to do this. Because he knew that Florence would think of them as monsters.

And the last thing that Stitch wanted to be called was that.

A monster.

”Lets go Lavina. Florence.” He says, motioning to them.

There was nothing left for them here.

Just death and humility.

Wrapped up tightly.

Stitch Flees.
Actions to come in trib maint.

[✨ zozo.]

feels like
the world's made of letters
so why do i feel so constrained
by my words?

Salvation is unexpected because I do not deserve to be saved.

Terrible people should be left to choke and drown on their own blood. Terrible people, just like me, should not be given a second chance. But Mickey steps forward and lunges, striking with his spear, and a few moments later a canon fires.

"I've got you."

I can't even scream, or cry, or thank him. My hands are still clamoring at my throat, sticky rivulets of blood sliding down my throat, my hands and my chest, desperate trying to hold on to what life I have left. All I can do is watch as he saves me for reasons that I do not understand. I hope, in time, that I will get to ask him why.

I close my eyes and heave in through my nose. It hurts, still, but not as much. Another canon fires and I exhale, feeling my fear-driven pulse pounding beneath my palms. I'm not dead - not yet.

But Ike Tate is.

I open my eyes to find hers staring back at me - unmoving, a familiar deathly stare. I can't even crawl over to check that she's alive, energy pooling out of me with every heart beat. My own desires surprise me, and perhaps in death I'm becoming a better person already. Maybe I'm learning to forgive. Maybe I'm learning not to hate myself, the world, and the ones around me.

When the second canon ends, I blink up at the sky and sigh. It doesn't frighten me anymore, the sound. It doesn't fill me with rage. I'm angry and scared enough already -- but these feelings are teaching me something.

They're teaching me that there is strength in my weaknesses. That it's okay to put your faith in others. It's Florence begging to be killed instead of us, it's Faline's outstretched hand from the morning before, it's Mickey throwing himself in front of my would-be killer.

Faith and trust go hand in hand. I'm learning that. Slowly. But surely.

I don't know if it's enough to leave with. The boy from Eight watches his ally crumple to the ground and he turns towards me - I see despair in his eyes, and it reflects in mine. His footsteps follow the trail of blood I'd left in the grass and all I can do is watch, frozen, with wide eyes as he crouches in front of me and reaches for the scarf around his neck.

I wonder what suffocating feels like. I suppose I'll know in a moment. Death is inevitable. I shouldn't be surprised, but that doesn't stop more tears pouring down my cheeks as I gulp back sobs that rattle in my torn vocal chords.

"Here," he says - gently, his eyes are hurting, tired -- but kind.

Like Florence. Like Faline. Like Mickey.

His hands are here to help, instruments of good.

Like Florence, thrusting her weapon in-between my hatred. Like Faline, taking my hand in hers and hauling me upwards. Like Mickey, stitching up my wounds.

He wraps the fabric around my throat and takes my free hand -- I let my knife fall to the floor, shell-shocked. "Hold it here. Tightly."

I do as he says, pressing down on the fabric now soaked in my own blood. Shallow breaths leave my chest and I want to whisper Thank you, but I can't. I don't know how. I don't even know his name - and yet he is kind to me. I don't understand and I want to ask him why, but I can't.

"Let's go" he calls to his allies, rising to collect his things.

He's in the distance before my voice returns, a scratching whisper, barely there at all.

"Thank....."

In deaths grasp, I find reasons to live.

if it's something you gotta pay for
then heaven wasn't made for me
if i gotta be saved for
then heaven wasn't made for me

song: terror jr

table by dars!

wynter flees
rest of actions in trib maint

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

Always told you not to love me
Now look what you made me do
I got poison in my pocket,
told you I was bad news

filler so that everyone can get out <3

My demeanor made you wait,
but the consequences stayed
I killed everything we were
Baby, murder was a case

song: 27 hours

[mackenzie flees]

[Sleepy Fluttershy]

The girl she had attacked collapsed on the ground under Lavina's spear and the cannon roared in unison with her fall. It was wrong. Every minute of this slaughter was wrong.

I am sorry.

Would this have been different if Florence hadn't swung at her with that spear? It was just a scratch, what difference could it possibly make? It still was her fault that she didn't yell at Neela to stop earlier. If she convinced Wynter to let it go and step back. But it was too late now.

A tear streamed down her cheek when she watched Stitch put his scarf on her friend's wound. He didn't know Wynter and yet he was doing more to help her than he had ever done.

Florence dug a teddy bear she had found out of her backpack and approached her friend from two quietly.

"Sorry, I didn't want it to be that bad. I wish I didn't learn to punch that well... I hope you'll get better"

She thought she was seeing hope sparkling in her feverish stare.

"It will keep you warm at night and create good dreams".

The child's smile was guilty and uncertain as she whispered:

"I messed up. I hope you can forgive me someday."

Stitch was calling her and Lavina. It was time to go. She couldn't leave those she had promised to protect.

The child stopped for a moment by Neela's corpse and kneeled beside her, taking her head in his hands and kissing her on the forehead. Her body was strangely similar to what Bolts had looked like in that casket he was lying in on the day of his funeral.

A sob burst out of her chest heavily. But now it was really time to leave. She knew she would do her best to never forget the girl who died fighting for them. And she would try to cheer her friends up. Because that's what she was really meant to do - fight for everyone's happiness.

Florence Spark flees the fight
Does actions in maint

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

the sea said goodbye to the shore,
so the sun wouldn't notice
the seaweed that wrapped
its arms around you

Filler. ♥

---

the books that I keep by my bags
are full of your stories that I drew up
from a little dream of mine,
a little nightmare of yours

song: Sloom - Of Monsters and Men

( faline flees )

[pup]

quick filler so i can get this up before the anthem goes live

Grins, looks at watch as the canon goes off.

Rolls eyes at Stitch as they get away.

To Stitch: "You're such a baby, but it doesn't matter. She won't last long anyways. You just wasted whatever she had on her, though."

table by ryan <33