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

[Lyn𝛿is]

∞
and why must a hero die young
not to be gone and forgotten
so I pray for the broken
this is not the end of innocence
∞

When fear had gone, only emptiness remains.

The hollow sound of a single cannon rings in the distance, like the tolling of a clock tower. Silver parachutes float down, bearing the antivenom and medical supplies you needed; there's a certain predictability in the rhythm of the needle moving in and out, sewing together the jagged edge the spider had torn against your skin.

But maybe that was the scary part -- that you were beginning to grow used to the arena, beginning to think of it again as the patterns you'd watched on TV.

"Let's keep moving," you tell them, because you've seen how Gamemakers hate tributes staying in one place, how they'd do anything to drive you away from safety. "There could be more."

But who are you, to be giving commands to girls like Lavina, or boys like Stitch? What makes you think, you who see the world overlaid with patterns and assumptions, that those patterns and assumptions are right?

"I have a raft. I think - I think it'll fit all four of us," you tell them -- people will listen to you, perhaps, if you showed yourself to be valuable, if you were the kind of person that could give them the right advantages.

Captain Neela did have a sort of ring to it -

You feel vulnerable, inviting them onto the vessel that had been your sanctuary for the past night, tying you in a little close for comfort, were something to go wrong -- there were always things that could go wrong, in the Games. But the night passes with only the boy from Twelve appearing in the sky, and by dawn you reach a new island, a single jagged rock rising from a shimmering lagoon.

Of course, it seems that others have had the same idea.

Part of you thinks Mickey and Faline look rather silly with the pirate hats atop their head. After all, you always imagined them as the kind of people who color within the Capitol's lines, whose eyes sparkle with thoughts of glory and kingdoms and all sorts of things you didn't dare dream of.

And perhaps it was better this way, for you; you wouldn't feel as bad attacking the arrogance of their pack as you would someone just as scared as you were.

Lavina's hand twitches against her weapon, Florence springs up, Stitch tenses -- and you run forward, striking before Lavina might accuse you of stalling, before the alliance charging at you can sink a blade into your skin, before the whispers in your mind can bring you screeching to a halt and questioning your actions.

lyrics: end of innocence

Neela attacks Wynter with spear

NDsAabLsspear

3028 -- Stabbed in Stomach -- 9.5 damage
(Spear)

spear

[✨ zozo.]

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

I feel her spear puncture my skin before I see her.

It's like hearing the murmurs of the morning before I open my eyes, or feeling the sun on my skin before I move. We woke, after an afternoon of finding Mickey and Faline having escaped the rubble of the ship and stitching up my wound, by the lagoon. It was a beautiful place but I didn't trust it. Ugly things are upfront in their nastiness, they're honest about who they are. Beautiful things are deceitful.

Maybe I'm wrong to trust Faline, tiny and doe-eyed, or Micky - clumsy and nothing but limbs. At least Ike's made it clear she doesn't like me, the feeling is mutual. I don't think she cares whether she lives or dies - who would, if they volunteered from a place like Seven?

There were others at the Lagoon, of course. We found them soon enough. I heard a familiar voice, saw faces I recognised, felt a ghost of a fist upon my face and grimaced at the memory. Weapons raised, we marched on - my body aches, still broken, still torn and fragile. But still standing.

"Hey kiddo," I grinned, beautifully hideous, at the tiny girl from Three who once wanted to be friends. "I see you learned how to throw a punch-"

I should know not to trust beautiful things. But I do, and it is my downfall.

My insides rupture, bubbling at the back of my throat and I choke on my words and my own blood. The girl who has skewered me has eyes as wide as mine, and I wonder if she's just as terrified of her actions as I am, a lamb at the slaughter who thinks she's a lion.

Without thinking I strike back, alight with rage and howling. 

"Bitch!" I spit, gasping for air, blood on my lips and my blade.

Life begins to leave my body and I can only trust myself, as hideous as I am, and the ugly thoughts of her face in the night sky.

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
AzBRNkBEknife
block

accuracy day 3
knife

knife�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

He was supposed to be dead.

There was not a doubt in his mind that Maxine was somewhere refusing to have hope for him, for fear of it blowing up in her face, and Mackenzie could still recall that look in his mother's eyes when she came to tell him goodbye. It was more than fear.

It was a grievance; a last conversation with her dead son.

And his father— ha— he probably still hadn't even pieced together that Mackenzie was his son. Probably too busy figuring out new ways he could avoid giving the lumberjacks and mill workers fair pay.

But, three days into this hell, and Mackenzie's chest still had a heartbeat drumming within it. His fingers still twitched around the handle of his spear, aching for the bow which he was accustomed to. His long, clumsy legs were getting better at handling the uneven, sandy ground when he walked, and his eyes still raged with a will to survive.

While the hat had seemed a bit silly, Mackenzie found himself oddly taken with the attached eye patch. He'd released its velcro strip from the bill, and tucked the hat somewhere within his bag. The eye patch made him feel dangerous; almost gave him an alternate identity. This was a different Mackenzie: one filled with courage and bravery, one who did not mind a kill now and again. Lurking within him, of course, was the obvious knowledge that he would never truly be accustomed to such a hideous action, but he thought that if he tried hard enough, he could convince himself of the lie. At least long enough to get the job done.

Ah, but then that left this: what if he grew too used to being that version of himself? What if people liked that version of himself more than the real one? What if he did manage to win, but anyone who talked to him was scolding him for being a monster or praising him for being one?

He swished a mouthful of water around in his mouth and spat, splashed some in his face. This place, with its calm and beautiful seas, its lush forests; it was too easy for a person to lose their minds somewhere within, but at least all of it was so god damn beautiful.


The girl came in with an appetite. There was no provocation, no reason other than a hunger for her continued life. Perhaps she thought we would attack her if she did not do it first, or perhaps those big brown eyes were seeing things that were not there. Whatever the cause, none of it did anything to justify the results, which was her spear digging into Wynter's stomach. She hissed in pain, spitting a single venom-laced word from her mouth:

"Bitch!"

There was a hatred, a coldness. He didn't remember the district this girl called home, but he knew she had been silly, naive to attack a career.

As the rest of the rat pack filed in behind her, gritted his teeth. He had started to push Faline behind him again, but he knew she wouldn't listen; she never did. The only thing he could do for his little mouse was stick his hand into the trap before it slammed shut on her, so he followed suit.

Mackenzie flipped his eye patch down so that it covered one of his eyes, and his spear felt lighter in his hands. This is nothing to me, he thought, readying himself.

She is nothing to me.

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]
NJhyYi89spear
[3024 -- Deep Gash on Left Thigh -- 8.0 damage]

spear

[Sleepy Fluttershy]

The second night came and went just as fast as the first one. Florence spent it hugging the teddy bear she found the night before, napping by Lavina's side and dreaming of writing a letter to her family. Her head wasn't hurting anymore because she got a medical kit in sponsorship and an antidote for the poison. But the memory of the spider's dead body was still alive in her brain. When she was shaken back to reality by a morning chill, her first instinct was to scream "I'm sorry" because she didn't know how else to compensate for the pain she caused a living creature.

Don't let the nightmares get to you, baby. Don't you ever let anything fiddle with your mind.

She knew her father was right - don't let the past haunt you to the point of madness, stay true to who you want to be. But what if she made a mess of everything again?

Warriors do not fear. They act.

She wasn't really sure about where they were going - and maybe none of her allies were either. In the Arena it didn't really matter where they moved - the gamemakers would still make sure they had danger all around them. And when she saw moving figures not far away, she knew what they would have to do now. And she didn't like it.

They came closer and her heart lit up with hope for a few seconds. She jumped up, eyes glimmering with happiness. It was Wynter. Her friend from the training center. There wouldn't be a fight. They could all help each other out or simply part ways - no need for a bloodshed.

"Hey kiddo, I see you learned how to throw a punch-"

The child's mouth was already opening to shout "Hi, Wynter!" but all of a sudden, a flash of Neela's weapon shone in front of Florence's friend right before piercing her stomach with a terrifying sound.

They were all bound to each other by a circumstance, two words pronounced at the Reaping - either by the predator or the victim. Trapped mice fighting over cheese in the face of death? This was not right. It could never be. She believed in her friends - they could not be willing to hurt or murder.

Wynter was hurt to badly to parry the blow properly but she did try. And her ally's weapon followed hers, sinking into Neela's leg. This had to end before it was too late. There was no more time to stand and watch the scene with her eyes wide open.

Florence rushed between Neela and Wynter, hoping to shield them both from each other.

"This is madness!"

Warriors were supposed to have no fear - but she was trembling, fearing not for herself but for others. Not a single part of her felt like a warrior - she was just a person, trying desperately to be human, to keep her and her friends' world from crashing. But maybe being a warrior had always meant keeping one's soul alive and full of love? Regardless of who she truly was, she needed her friends alive - she wouldn't run from the danger and make the same mistake she made in the Bloodbath with Ping.

Adults were supposed to be smart and responsible, serious about everything - she wasn't one. She was only a child trying to making the right choices. What if being an adult really meant doing the right thing, not sticking to good manners? It didn't matter anymore - she would be a careless child, a tired worker, a homeless prostitute, a mutt - whatever they needed her to be to feel happy and just...

"STOP!"

Her hand quivered in unison with the agony of her heart and for a second she lost control over the weapon she forgot she was holding - a moment short enough to tighten her grip around the spear, but long enough to hit her friend.

"I'm sorry! Are you hurt? I can't control this thing properly, it is too heavy! Are we still friends?"

Florence Spark attacks Wynter with spear
FxGykJ61spear

3108 -- Shallow Cut on Left 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

We march —
because we cannot stay.

And there are monsters down there in the sea, all teeth and bone and tormented by a raging hunger; but when I wake, I do not listen to their songs. We scream to drown out the sounds, a campfire roaring in our chests and thunder drumming in the depths of our throats. We're all ash at this point, this alliance of ours —

but the wind does not take us, she doesn't steal us away from our resting place. We follow her. From the wreckage and through the water, we gather our items and we trek to the shore. Until all I feel is warmth and sand. Until all I hear is the snap, crack, fracture of shells beneath my feet.

This is the fate of a beautiful thing. I grin, sharp and ugly and feral, but the sun catches my dimples and Mackenzie tousles my hair. A fancy hat doesn't make you a pirate. And drowning someone doesn't make you a mermaid. I try to be — and I want to be — but I know I should be — so I just am. I breathe.

"I like this better," I start, adjusting the strap of my satchel and peering up at the clear sky. "Than the ship, I mean. Even more than that hollow tree." I kick at the ground for good measure, resulting in a spray of golden earth. "I wonder how it'll try to kill us?" Because it will. I've learned that much.

Mackenzie couldn't hide the swelling from me, evidence of the swarm that had attacked him that first night. And those creatures from yesterday are still in my head, so strange and so terrifying and so insatiable. How we managed to kill them all, I'll never know. But I know now to stay on my guard, to expect the worst.

When they appear on the horizon, my glaive's in my hand before I can think to be rational. If I'm going to die, if I'm going to be murdered at fourteen, then at least let it be with my eyes open. Let them stab me in the front, so I can look at them and hate them and curse them; and understand them, too.

The next few moments are a blur, a rush of two armies and one crown and no winners. We still fight. A blade sinks into Wynter's stomach, she returns the blow and Mackenzie joins the fray alongside her. He doesn't stop me from stepping forward, lifting my weapon. And I know it's not acceptance; it's just a bargain.

( Let me be;
something, someone, somehow
— a brave and terrible thing. )

---

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 )
LusxDr4Eglaive
[miss]

| accuracy — day three |

glaive
[miss]

glaive�glaive

[pup]

Gonna have to filler again. my vacation is almost over tho and once i get back from vancouver i promise to be more active <3333

For now I'm just going to drop a convo between stitch and lavina about neela joining the alliance

Lavina
Stitch

"Who the hell is she? We can't go about leaving every rando we meet alive."
"She's my district partner, quiet but resourceful. We only talked on the train ride here."
"We'll have to kill her anyways. Why not now?"
"Because 4 people are better than 3. We're playing the long game here. Numbers work in our favor after all."
"Deadweight doesn't work in my favor, and it doesn't work in yours either."
"Then why are we keeping Florence around? With that type of logic, we should have killed each other already."
"Fine, just no more helping other randos. We can't afford it."


Volkner dies and she hears a cannon and is like oh now there's only 21 ppl left cause her watch ticked down

Now she sees ppl and is like yay finally i can kill somebody.

[attacks ike tate w/ sword
bzoWjU5Asword
[sc on back - 4]

table by ryan <33

sword

[ryan]

And his anger bubbled from somewhere that he never knew existed.

He watched as he chopped down the spider leg by leg, leaving nothing but a hallow body that connected from each dead spider before it.

A horrifying sight that did not scare them anymore.

No.

Because nothing would scare them from this point on.

They were each fearless comets that were ready to fall into the earth’s atmosphere.

They would crash into the ozone and combust into stardust.

So radiant and beautiful that no one would miss them.

Because that was the type of people that they were.

They were shining stars in a place that was marked and riddled by death.

And while they didn’t have to kill anyone… just yet… they still had to kill something.

Or they would burn out in a matter of moments.

And if Stitch had anything to say about it, he would make sure that would never happen.

And dismembering that spider was proof of such a thing.

Because at this point, these were the people that understood what it was like to feel like stone in a place that they should have felt like air.

Crisp.

Vibrant.

Effervescent.

Free.

---

And they moved on from such horrible things, finding a place to rest.

Noises came from the sky, and four antidotes fell near them, and with that, the poison that coursed through their veins would evaporate into dust.

The liquid tasted bitter going down, but nothing would ever taste sweet ever again.

No. Because there was nothing good about this place.

Death lived here, and it was there job to find a way to avoid it.

Or greet it with open arms.

---

But Stitch didn’t want any of that.

No.

He wanted to find his way out of this place, and while he knew that he was going to have to go through the people that he was currently with, he knew that he still had time before he had to do what it took to get home.

But that didn’t stop them from trying to be the teenagers that they were.

Stitch watched as Florence cuddled up to Neela, and he wondered what was going through her mind.

What did she think about the people that she was now with?

Stitch didn’t spend too much time talking to her before the games started, and when he did, he spent most of it being stoic and in his own head.

He did not see the value of friendship while he was on the train, because he felt like there would be nothing but implosions as he developed bonds and connections to people that he knew he was going to have to slaughter to claim the freedom that he wanted.

But then the training center happened, and while he tried his hardest to avoid everyone like the plague, he failed miserably.

That’s when he met the people that he thought he would spend most of the games with. And as much as he wondered what brought them together, Ping and Florence both hopeful, and Lavina, ruthless as ever.

Stitch a bleeding heart.

It just worked.

And that is when he knew that he could open himself up a bit, even though the thought of it scared him more than anyone could actually predict.

Because Stitch was not the boy that people thought he was.

They thought he was a boy that was out of his mind, chasing his freedom with an idyllic countenance that no one would understood.

But he was a black hole. Devoid of anything that resembled happiness. Because in the Gabel household, you could not be happy.

Because everyone knew how to bring you down.

Throw more things into the black holes so they could watch them disappear into nothing.

Oblivion.

Emptiness.

---

And while the rest of them drifted off into slumber, Stitch stayed up a little longer, watching over the group of people that he cared for as much as a void could.

Lavina however, was up as well.

And she decided to ask Stitch what Neela was doing there with him.

"Who the hell is she? We can't go about leaving every rando we meet alive.".

But she wasn’t. She was someone that could at least remind Stitch of home. Someone that could at least remind him what he was fighting for.

Freedom.

"She's my district partner, quiet but resourceful. We only talked on the train ride here."

He knew that this was going to get nowhere, so he was going to have to trade words that made sense in a careers eyes.

"We'll have to kill her anyways. Why not now?"

And in that moment, he knew that Lavina had only one thing on her mind.

Death.

"Because 4 people are better than 3. We're playing the long game here. Numbers work in our favor after all."

And sounds of the truth rang in his head. His words echoed in his head, and while he watched Neela sleep, Stitch hoped that she was not listening in on the conversation.

However, he couldn’t put it past her. She was more resourceful that he would ever be.

"Deadweight doesn't work in my favor, and it doesn't work in yours either."

Stitch could tell that her words were true, but this was not the time to start killing everyone.

This was the time to focus on getting as far as they could.

Numbers made sense to Stitch.

"Then why are we keeping Florence around? With that type of logic, we should have killed each other already."

Stitch was honest in his words, because of course, he had to sell this idea to Lavina. The last thing that he wanted was to watch two black holes clashing in the dark of the night.

As beautiful a sight it would have been to see.

"Fine, just no more helping others. We can't afford it."

Her words were razor sharp.

”Fine. Now go to sleep, the anthem is gonna wake us up anyway.”

---

And it sure did.

Stitch bolted up from the tree that he rested near and looked up at the sky above.

A screen came up and stated the fallen.

And it was something that Stitch never got to say goodbye too.

Gabriel.

A boy who looked like he belonged in the stars.

His face appeared and Stitch could not help but look away from the others as they watched it pass by.

Tears welled up, but Black Holes did not cry, and so he forced them back.

He waited until he could quietly cry when they all went to sleep again.

---

and it didn’t take long.

Tears streamed like star dust from his eyes as he thought about the night that he spent looking at the stars with the boy that he would never meet again.

He knew that was the way of the games, and that if he didn’t die now, he might have been faced with the impossible task of killing the boy himself.

A thought that scared Stitch more than any spider could.

He could feel the boys lips on his, and while he knew that he would never taste them again, he watched as stars fell across the sky.

The sky recognized what Stitch did as well.

A star is born, but many others die.

And while Gabriel was not a boy who did much, he was a boy that could at least understand who Stitch was.

More than Stitch could ever understand himself.

And that was something that he would lament until the day he died.

And as the sky had finally settled, Stitch wiped the tears from his eyes, because he knew that Gabriel would not want him to lament anymore.

There was no crying here.

Especially for a boy who felt like he was in a cosmos that would never be discovered.

---

And he woke up, stretching for a moment as he watched Florence jump up in glee.

She was always full of energy, and Stitch could not have asked for anything more from a girl who was too innocent for what these games asked them to do.

And while he knew that she was tenacious, Stitch still thought about how sad it was that she might not make it out alive.

That’s when he knew that it was his time to protect her. As much as he could.

---

He picked up his stuff, placing the firewood that Neela had given him in his sack so he could light it later today. His mouth was parched, but he had to keep going, because they had no clue what to expect for the day ahead of them.

His weapon was held close to him, and they all piled onto the raft that Neela had built from materials she found in the arena.

And he looked at Lavina, ”See, resourceful.” He smiled, looking at Neela. ”This will come in handy for sure.” He said as he sat down, hoping that all of their body weight wouldn’t capsize something that looked fragile.

---

And it didn’t.

It carried them across the water to a place that they had never seen before.

Somewhere that none of them knew existed.

As they docked, they all began to walk around, and Stitch couldn’t help but look up at the sky again.

They had traveled blue cosmos to get to a planer unknown.

And whatever great wonders lied before them, were ready to be seen.

---

But they were not alone, and as Stitch realized that the people that were across the way were people that he also knew, this was not going to be a friendly encounter.

That was proven quickly as Neela charged at the girl from two.

The same girl that had her nose broken by Stitch a couple days earlier.

And as her spear had landed center in her stomach, Stitch’s turned for a second before he held his blade close.

Neela had the right idea.

This was war, and if they were going to win, then they needed to leave whatever platitudes they had behind.

Because war did not care.

Just like black holes did not care what was in the vicinity of them.

They still pulled objects in, to live in a void that they would never escape from.

---

But that did not mean that Stitch did not have a heart.

As he watched Micky and Faline launch attacks at Neela and Lavina, he knew that they were ready to do whatever it took in order prove that they would not sit still in black holes.

That they had enough resolve to show them that they were not afraid.

And while Stitch knew that he could have talked to them.

Told them that there was another way to do this without killing.

He knew that there would be no point.

They were all savages that danced around with blades, thinking that they were gods among the stars.

But Stitch knew better.

Just like he knew that the only way this could end was by engulfing someone in the black hole that he was.

By silencing them, and treating them to an oblivion that seemed fitting for anyone to die in.

And he thought about the Moon’s and how they probably would have made it just a little farther if they realized this very thing that Stitch had.

There was no safety here.

Only death.

---

And so Stitch held his blade up and watched as Lavina dived towards the girl from Seven.

As much as he didn’t want to be sucked into the gravity known as Lavina, he watched as blades came down on her, and that meant that he had to do something.

Anything.

To make sure that all of them survived until the next day.

And so he moved in closer, two black holes against two people who lived in the stars.

And he made certain that both of them would know what it was like to go up against titans who did not yield for everyone.

And so just like Lavina, he swung his glaive in the direction of the girl from Seven, and hoped that she would understand that black holes did not bow to stars.

They sucked them into their gravitational pull.

And collapsed them.

Into nothing.

Stitch Gabel attacks Ike Tate with his Glaive
q|TmOqrbglaive
[13069 -- Deep Gash on Forehead -- 9.0 damage + 1.0 for Rivalry = 10 Damage
(Glaive)]

OOC: BTW, the thread title credit is no light no light by Florence + The Machine

glaive

[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 did not bandage her wounds that night with the rest of her allies. She let herself bleed; she laid out on the ground beneath a canopy of trees and watched the stars as red pooled from her chest into her clasped hands. Ike breathed in slowly, wincing as agony rippled through her body. There was a part of her that wanted to ask Mackenzie or Faline for bandages and a needle, or something, but she held in her request.

Ike sighed and closed her eyes, trying to block out every stab of pain that racked her body. She listened to the wind whistle through the trees, felt it caress her skin with its icy hands. Distractions numbed the pain; she wanted to die, but she didn't want it to hurt.

Maybe she should have just taken an easier way out, but she could never do it herself.

She fell asleep just like that, like she was already an empty corpse—hands resting on her chest, eyes closed and body completely still, as if she was encased in ice.

Ike awakened that morning squinting at the light filtering in from the treetops. She arose slowly from the bed of grass she fell asleep in, clutching her still sore chest. The blood had dried on her skin, so that it was now flaking and chipping off, like the old red paint that clung onto her ancient house.

She was silent when they gathered their things and trudged through the woods until they reached a beautiful lagoon that glimmered in the sunlight. Under her breath, she whispered, "Wow," but her awe was short-lived, as it wasn't long before they collided with another group of tributes.

They were immediately thrust into a chaos, a battle Ike didn't care for but still had to fight. She almost flinched as she saw one of the tributes spear Wynter through the stomach—it should have been her instead, but she didn't linger on that thought too long.

She didn't know the names or the districts of the two tributes that closed in on her. Ike had never cared to learn them; she only knew Mackenzie, Wynter, and Faline. She didn't want to think of them as people, because it made the fact that they would be slaughtered more difficult to comprehend.

One of them struck at her, a blonde girl, leaving a shallow mark on her back. Ike turned around to see that another tribute was rushing towards her, and before she could react, his blade slashed across her face, blood spattering the ground like scarlet rain. She breathed in sharply, but she did not scream. No tears pricked her eyes, despite the searing sensation on her forehead.

Out of pure instinct, not will for survival, she staggered back and raised her spear to attack. There was no fury in her eyes, only a cold emptiness, like an overcast winter sky.

[Ike attacks Lavina with spear]
umfmdVWkspear
[3041 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage]

[accuracy reroll day 3]
spear
[3061 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage]

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

song: 27 hours

spear�spear

[Lyn𝛿is]

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

Filler bc I'm at work rn, will try to fill in tonight

Neela attacks Wynter with spear

x7Jzzb9Ospear
spear

[✨ zozo.]

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

My blade craves flesh but it only finds air. Rage makes me irrational. Fear, wild and unco-ordinated. A canon fires and I am thrown into panic, white-hot noise in my ears, my stomach, my mind. It's hard to breathe when pain wraps its fingers around your lungs and squeezes, hard, with vengeance. Like I deserve to hurt.

I know that. I didn't need a spear in my abdomen to tell me I'm terrible.

Mickey lunges forward and strikes my attacker. Her face is unfamiliar, without a name, not that it matters. She'll be but a number and a face in the sky when we're done with her. Whether or not I join her portrait is telling - but I'm not going down without a fight.

In protest, she slams her spear into my leg and I cry out, buckling towards the ground. Wounds from yesterday tear open and as I fall I can still feel her blade in my muscles, tearing me apart like I'm nothing. Some grand warrior I am. I can see them erasing my name from the betting lists already, carving my tombstone - if I'll even be deserving of one.

Breathing gets a little easier, so I heave in -- I'm nothing, but I'm still alive.

"You've got balls" I laugh, glaring straight into the girls eyes. "I'll give you that."

Take down the strongest ones first - she's smart, too. Ike winces in the distance, a blade at her forehead. I don't have time to see if it went through her eye socket - but she can handle her own, I know that. Canon-fire in my ears, or perhaps it's just a memory, but I'm scared of it. I'm scared of the sound of my own death so I spit it back out, finger pointing towards another so the reaper might just follow the line of vengeance that I trace.

"I'm gonna slit your throat!"

I'm fear, and rage, irrational and uncompromising, so I launch myself upwards on shaking, wounded legs and strike - aiming for the kill.

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
OiyhM0Exknife
block

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

Slow motion, and everything became a blur. Fast and slow, fast and slow. There were moments of total clarity: Faline springing forward, Wynter's growl, Mackenzie's heart rate increasing. He could hear blood pumping through his head, begging him to save them, giving him as much energy as it could possibly muster.

But then, there were those moments of chaos. A frenzy of stabs and attacks, chunks of flesh being ripped from the bodies of his allies, the manic look in Wynter's eyes, the desperate one in Ike's. It was so much to handle, too much for him alone to stop.

I cannot fix this.

It was a thought of hopelessness and he hated himself for it. He blamed himself.

Even as his spear sliced dangerous close to the girl who started this's femoral artery, he hated himself for not doing more.

The world grew silent within the fray; slow. It was slow now, and he forced himself to snap back to action. They deserved to live, too, these people who had attacked them. They wanted to go home, to see their families. They were only doing what people did best in the games, and he could not fault them, exactly. His hypocrisy was limited, he thought.

But everything was still slow, moments of anticipation. Cat and mouse, fight or flight. The rush of blood silenced from a thunder to a dull roar, and he gritted his teeth.

Maybe, he hoped. He prayed to gods he did not believe in, accepting the punishment of blasphemy over watching everyone he'd vowed to take care of die in front of him. Even if it means me dying instead, he thought, just don't take them from me.

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]
SjV2wnOWspear
[3155 -- Shallow Cut on Forehead -- 4.5 damage]

spear

[Sleepy Fluttershy]

This is the time for yourself
To be free
...

The battle was raging around her - like the Bloodbath repeating itself all over again.

Ping died in the bloodbath.

Nobody seemed to pay attention to her desperate scream as they continued to wreck each other's bodies with dedication which looked terrifying.

Florence understood that behind all the pain there was a small chance Wynter would hear her. Neela was hurt too. It was a strange sight - a crowd of lost children, driven only by fear and suffering. 

They didn't only refuse to listen - they were afraid of listening. Afraid of stopping and fading into a faint picture in the sky. 

She was caught up in this carousel of people and weapons, with no way out and no way to put the fighting to a stop.

"What are you doing?"

Florence felt like her words were drowning in the undescribable mess that was this battle but she yelled at them to stop again and again, trying to squeeze her body between theirs, take the blows of their weapons upon herself. It wasn't working - the girl was too skinny, too small for them to be considered a target.

It was like that with Bolts, too. She wanted to protect him when he was miles away - and couldn't. So here she was again, on the other side of the screen, her screams fading in the unmeasurable distance between them.

Her father had always believed that she was destined to bring light to people - but how could she ever do it if the light they needed was inside them? They refused to see it, refused to let her show them, refused to believe in the hope that existed deep down in each of them. Their blindness was wind, slowly blowing out the candle she tried so hard to carry.

But there was no going back to what she had left behind, no giving up. She chose not to let her sister volunteer, to end up here. And now there was only one way to go - face what she was up against.

Florence tried to put her spear in the way of her friend's weapon again. But once more, instead of hitting Neela's spear, it went in Wynter's direction.

The little girl seemed to be losing control over whatever was happening and the only thing she could do was hope for the battle to end before it was too late.

...
This is the time in your life
And it's never too late
To see the light in the dark

You've got to follow your heart.

Lyrics - Follow your heart

Table by Ryan

Florence accidentally attacks Wynter with spear

4YOE|4cBspear

3022 -- Deep Gash on Neck -- 10.0 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

My blade pierces the sky, the clouds begin to bleed — but there's no rain, no holy flood to wash away my sins. This is a silent suffering. I feel no pain, all my wounds are closing and scabbing and healing, but I'm watching as Wynter and Ike die; I'm doing nothing to help them. I grit my teeth and I lunge and I fall against my knees with a gasp. I'm a soldier on the losing side. There's no honour in this war unless I'm a casualty. There will be no laurel to hang on my grave.

Wynter's taking the worst of it, a spear through her throat and blood on her fingers. She can't stop it, can't mend the scar and can't take back the years that are being stolen from her. Still standing, still alive — but your heart's still beating up until that last grain of sand leaves your hourglass. To live is to die, but to die is not to live. If I were stronger, I'd remove my organs and lock them away. Bury them in a hidden place and live for an eternity without pain, without warmth.

( Hopeless,
and graceless,
but deathless. )

I can't take that bargain. There's too much fire inside of me, my bones are too charred. I'd rather have a moment of burning than a lifetime of numbness. Feed me rotten meat, not cherries. Wrap me in metal, not silk. Let me live wearing a noose around my neck if it means I don't have to sleep in a casket lined with velvet. Beauty and terror are sisters; Aphrodite and Ares have always been infamous lovers. And I'm lying, truly, but let me pretend. Let me believe that I could be selfless. Someday.

This is not my funeral — and I have no reason to mourn, no right. I turn away from the blood and the carnage, lifting my glaive and positioning myself. I inhale, and I exhale, and all the parts of my machine whir with life. With hunger and hurt and hatred; with all that I need to keep myself going. "What are you doing?" I spit at the tribute younger than myself, as if I'm wise enough to scold her. I have aged so many centuries in so few days. "Murder is still murder, kid. Pleading 'not guilty' doesn't change that."

---

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 )
_YcpCC6Jglaive
[Stabbed in Bicep -- 8.5 damage]

glaive

[pup]

I don’t know how we have gotten in this mess, but this is exactly what I have been looking for. A fight. Against people that I do not care for.

My sword feels light as it traipses across the flesh of the girl from seven, and I realized that she didn’t even wince. Impressive, seeing as Stitch followed my lead and made a deeper cut right up above mine.

I’m not impressed, but hopeful because that just means that her death will come that much quicker.

I hear the sound of a canon in the distance and I look at my watch to notice that yet another tribute has perished in the arena. The clock struck down one more arm and I hoped that it was not Volkner, because that asshole was the one I needed to kill.

But then I feel a searing pain in my bicep, as the girl from six screams out shit about war at Florence.

As much as I do not care about her, I know that I need to say something.

However, my face flushes, and instead of mincing words with a tribute that I do not care for, the pain makes me feel alive. ”Murdering each other is the only way we are going to get home.”

However, she is not my target, and I lift my sword, looking back to the girl at seven. ”And Ill start with you.”

And my blade comes down.

[attacks ike tate w/ sword
cKMaRKsasword
[sc - 3.5]

table by ryan <33

sword

[ryan]

And he didn’t realize that they were trying to accomplish the same thing.

They were all trying to show each other, that there will was stronger than the other.

And for once, Stitch wondered if that was the beauty of the games.

Twenty-four tributes coming together to fight it out to the death.

And see which one could outlive the other.

Stitch did not know and did not care.

At this point, there was nothing more that they could do but try to stay alive as much as they could.

As Stitch watched Faline attack Lavina, a blade piercing her bicep. Red pouring out of a wound that should have never came to be.

Stitch would be the first person to admit that he did not care for Lavina like he had cared for the other tributes, but that did not mean that he wanted to watch her in pain.

However, with a flick of a wrist, she sliced her sword at the girl from seven and simply shrugged off the wound like it was nothing.

If there was one thing he could admit, he admired how strong she was.

---

Back home in eight, there was never time for Stitch to really show himself as an individual because it was always too busy doing whatever his mother wanted him to do.

When he would go outside, people simply gave him dirty looks because Stitch did not know how to act around large groups of people.

It took him a long time to realize that he was capable of so much more.

He went from a boy that was scared of his shadow, to a boy that was not afraid of anything.

He grew up in front of everyone’s eyes, and his mother did not like that one bit.

Because that meant that he would try to leave her, and letting Stitch go was the last thing that she wanted to do.

---

But the games had a funny way of forcing such a thing on someone that begged for so much.

His mother simply shrugged and wrote him off, feeling like she had won the battle of a long drug out war.

If she could not have him, then the games could claim him for their own.

But Stitches goal was not to die here.

Stitches goal was to go home, no matter what it took. And if that meant that he had to murder in order to get his way, then he would do just that.

And so he did not care that he had sliced the girl from seven in the head, because at the end of the day, she was a stepping stone to the freedom that he wanted so bad.

---

And while the cosmos would tell him that doing something so catastrophic would end up in his own ruination, Stitch simply gritted his teeth, because at the end of the day, he would be one step closer to achieving the one thing that he wanted for himself since he realized that his mother did not care about him.

And while the stars in the sky shined bright here, that did not mean that Stitch could not shine brighter.

Just because he was a black hole, that did not mean there wasn’t light inside of him.

Light that he had started absorbing the first day he got to the arena.

And while he might have thought he was alone in this, he was not.

Florence.

Neela.

Lavina.

Ping.

All of them were with him, trying to help him achieve the goal that they all desperately wanted at the end of the day.

To be free. To go home.

---

And the words that came from Faline’s mouth cut clear across the void of space that they occupied.

Murder.

In the simplest form.

That’s what this game was.

Murder.

”At the end of the day, we are all gonna murder each other. If she wants to claim innocence, let her. ” He says to Faline, realizing that this was not the place for anyone to claim innocence. ”Ignorance is bliss after all.”

And Stitch hated that Florence lived in a place where she did not welcome death, because at the end of the day, that was probably going to be the fate that becomes them.

A sad reality and they will have to accept sooner or later.

---

And as he pulled back his blade for a moment, he watched as Lavina had cut into the girl from seven.

And that is when he knew that this was his koboyashi moru.

His lose lose.

Because trying to kill the girl in front was not going to make him happy.

However, death was going to come no matter what.

And so he pulled his blade back and swung it at the girl.

Hoping to end her misery as mercifully as possible.

Stitch Gabel attacks Ike Tate with his Glaive
Qkn9e|dfglaive
[13112 -- Shallow Cut on Back -- 4.0 damage
(Glaive)]

glaive