bloodstained | {second star / charlie} day four

[dars]

you're casting light
making shadows in the dark
I wish you'd see it through mine
instead of using your own eyes

Split second decision— he didn't want to think about it. Had he realized saving Wynter meant letting Ike fall; had he known his attempts at being a savior would be ultimately fruitless, would it have changed anything? Would he have done it differently?

Would he have still pierced the eye of someone who just wanted to live?

The knowledge that the girl probably had family watching back home was hard to swallow. It didn’t help that he kept obsessing over the details. Maybe she had a favorite dress and they would bury her in it. Maybe they would have to close the casket at her funeral because if any of them were brave enough to look at her, the scar where her eye had once been would just remind her of how gruesome her death was. Or, maybe they would choose to burn her, spread her ashes someplace beautiful. He thought about how, should he die, Neela’s family would probably chant about justice or karma. Maybe both. Or, what if he won? He would eventually be forced to stare them in the eye on the victory tour.

She did not die peacefully. Quickly, sure, so sudden and that even Mackenzie found himself faltering backwards from the impact of it, trying not to lose himself in his thoughts, in the fact that there was almost no noise when he pulled his spear out of the girl.

He'd gone into shock later as he walked in silence, Wynter in his arms and Faline trailing behind. She might not have meant to or even realized it, but his little mouse feared him. When he looked over at her she averted her gaze, or cleared her throat, or pretended not to notice, and Mackenie knew he could not blame her. He could not blame her, or Ike’s family, or Neela’s. He was a murderer now. His family and the whole of the country knew it: He'd stopped a person's heart.

He might have done something to convince her there was still a salvageable person somewhere within him had he been able to. Between the weight of Wynter in his arms and the weight of the kill on his mind, there wasn't room for much else. He couldn't—

"I can't... carry anymore." he said, sometime deep in the night. He'd hardly noticed the miles he had walked. Even as the ground had turned from sand to dirt and lush trees towered hundreds of feet overhead. Lizards glowed blue and purple and green overhead in the treetops like makeshift nightlights; crickets chirped songs up to the stars. And his burden was simply too much. He came down on his knees and sat Wynter down, arms instantly grateful for the break.

"I can't—" he laid next to her, and he did not move until the next morning.

---

The buzzing was what finally woke him up. It was unlike the Capitol buzz: sounds of car engines and sirens, people chattering, music playing, life happening. This was ominous and hungry. It was the arena's daily task for he and the others to prove themselves. Mutts coming yet again with intent to kill.

"Girls!" he hissed, jolting up and saddling his things over his back. They had maybe thirty seconds maximum before the swarm was upon them, and if history of the games had told him anything, they did not want that to happen.

Faline was up almost instantly, wide-eyes bloodshot, bruises beneath them. He wondered if she'd even been asleep.

"Wynter! Up!"

Not wanting to wait, he lifted her into his arms and he ran. And he did not look back. He pushed himself until his heart scraped against his chest and his legs seared in pain, and it was no good. Faline just behind him, the insects surely not far behind her.

He burst into a clearing, happy to see Wynter finally fully awake, fully able to function, because there was no time for him to help her. Across the clearing, another tribute broke the threshold into the clearing, two of those stinging insects that had swarmed Mackenzie during the first night in the arena hot on his trail. He remembered the swelling all too well, and the panic and worry that he may have been poisoned plaguing him away from sleep, even as fatigue begged for him to close his eyes.

He hesitated, pulling his spear out and pointing it at the breathless boy for a short moment. He could've done it. Surely, killing him would've appeased the Capitol, and why not? He had already murdered once, what was another one, right?

No.

He had killed out of necessity; kill or be killed. There was a chance, if they worked together, no one had to die, so he changed target and attacked.

nothing will bring you down now
how can I be reserved?
you're casting light making
shadows in the dark

song: shadows in the dark

[mackenzie attacks pixie wasp #1; spear]
XojtKz8Hspear
[3130 -- Shallow Cut on Right Forearm -- 3.5 damage]

spear

[Kire]

You can't fix your broken promise
Our ties have come undone

My night actually had been peaceful. Nothing disturbed my rest, and I was able to wake up feeling somewhat refreshed. I was still sore in places, but there wasn't a tired buzz in my head this time. I checked all of my items were still where I left them before exiting the home beneath the earth and reentering the forest that seemed to never end.

Trees begin to all look the same after even a few minutes of wandering through them. After all of the time I had spent here I could barely tell one step from the next. Surely there would come a time where I might be able to tell each tree apart with enough exploration, if I lived that long.

The silence and peace clung to me for much longer than I expected, drawing out until the light was nearly coming straight down from above - indicating it was around noon. I wondered briefly if I might have another day of rest, but shook my head at my naive wishes. There was no way the Capitol would allow me to coast through the days as others fought. They wanted as much blood shed as possible, and having me wandering through trees on my own would not draw in the crowds.

I was still surprised when the quiet was broken, though.

Two small creatures shot out of the surrounding brush, whizzing past my head. I thought at first they were two large bees or wasps but on their second pass I caught the sight of their bird-like beaks and realized they were yet another Capitol monstrosity. Angry buzzing and a couple more near-misses as they dive bombed me once more drove me to start running. I had no idea where I was going, but I thought I might be able to outrun them. At least I might be able to get to a place where I wouldn't be as hampered in attacking.

It seemed others had had a similar encounter and similar thoughts to me. I watched as a boy and then two girls burst into a clearing just as I did. The boy looked at me wildly, taking in my situation as I took in his. Those three were also being chased, but the creatures after them seemed to be a little slower, a little less fierce.

I flinched as he ran toward me, spear pointed at me, waiting for him to stab me through the heart. He didn't, though, and instead I heard a sharp displeased noise from the creature nearest to my head. Following this line of thinking - they couldn't sting me if they were dead - I yanked my axe free of my pack and aimed a heavy blow at the little angry thing trying to fly into my face.

Charlie attacks pixie wasp #1
5jouXYg2axe
Severed Left Forearm at Elbow -- 9.5 damage + 1 mutt tamer

I will not be used to be battered and abused
It's the reason why I choose to cut my losses

song: White Rabbit by Egypt Central

axe

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

Tell me which one is worse:
Living or dying first
Sleeping inside a hearse
I don't dream

A living corpse —
a girl of broken bones and spoiled meat;
there's so much that my body can't contain.

I'm too tall for my skin, a moth breaking free of its prison — and the fire is tempting, the flames are singing my eulogy, but I'm not Narcissus incarnate. I won't be seduced by my own reflection. Girlhood is a theatrical, melancholic thing; hating yourself and coming up with a poetic excuse for the knife in your chest. Because maybe I'm poor and hungry and lonely, unloved and unwanted / maybe I'm a queen of rot and teeth and all things that crawl in the dark. Maybe all those beasts are me.

That's how you play the game. Find divinity in your morality. 1) Matter to no one. 2) Be the patron saint of your own religion. I don't fall to my knees, I don't pray — I'm blasphemous. I claim to know the truth of murder, but my hands are clean. I stand my ground and carry myself like a monument, but I'm breaking. The earth will soon swallow the stone of my soul, a thousand years and all my organs will become wildflowers, but my name will have vanished. My story won't matter.

To be a survivor is to wring the innocence from your youth, to choke the life out of something sacred and to shield your eyes from the horrors of the world. To cover all the mirrors around you with black silk. I pull the trigger and an ancient creature falls, white stained red — but I'm just trying to sleep, tossing away my pirate hat and all my childish ambitions. I'll never be happy. You don't get to live and keep your heart, too. And I have to make a choice. Maybe I'd rather die.

A black sky, starless — but Ike's right there, looking down on us. I never knew her, never felt anything for her, but I still cry when she appears. Over the ally that defied the odds and made it out; over the ally that we left vulnerable and didn't escape the slaughter. I don't know who I am. Hard and cold and cruel, hungering only for victory, but also warm and afraid and so quick to laugh. To smile and to have hope. Figuring out who you are in fourteen years is an impossible task. I only have a few more days to give my answer. Wise, or stupid? Brave, or terrified?

If I could go back to those unending tracks, to that dead-end job and that crumbling house and that mundane existence I hated so much, I think I would. But I'm here. And now I've been stripped of my humanity, forced into a world of blades and statistics and cameras that never stop flashing. My head never stops throbbing. I had always wondered what it'd be like to matter, to be known and respected and to have a purpose, but I don't want to be a murderer. That's a heavy price to pay.

( I don't want to go back. )

---

Mackenzie screams, urging us to wake up, but I already am. And I have been for minutes now, or hours, or maybe even days at this point. But it's his voice that brings me back to reality and out of my stasis, a rush of sounds arriving to make their homes in my skull — and I'm jealous of them, I want a place to call my own and to feel sheltered, but it's not here. I have to remember that. I refuse to live in a graveyard, to ever take ownership of this arena and its terrors. But I'm a hypocrite, so I rise to my feet and I stay alive. We have to run.

The buzzing is endless, closer with each second and that much more threatening. Mackenzie has Wynter in his arms, their weapons adding to the weight, but he's faster than me. I try to keep up, pushing through the fatigue of a sleepless night and gripping my glaive tighter. I can still fight. The last thing I want to be is a burden, so I focus on my breathing and my running and I ignore my anxious thoughts. That I'm not worth keeping around; that I don't deserve Mackenzie's friendship and that he should focus on protecting Wynter and that I'm only holding them back.

( Breathe, Faline. )

Exhale, inhale — and repeat. We stop when we reach a clearing, coming across another tribute as Wynter stirs awake. There's four of us now. We'll be okay. I see Ike in the trees, for just a moment, but I ignore it. I'm just tired. Two wasps invade our space, the same kind that had attacked Mackenzie that first evening, and I find myself gritting my teeth. It's not fair that he has to share all of our suffering, that he's been forced to be the hero. And maybe that's who he wants to be, or maybe he's just as lost and confused as I am, but he deserves a break. Let me be the sacrificial lamb for once.

( "Mickey? Am I losing my mind?"
But I don't speak. I just swing. )

---

You say, "Come over baby
I think you're pretty"
I'm okay
I'm not your baby

song: you should see me in a crown

( faline attacks pixie wasp #2 ; glaive )
osebRYCYglaive
[Deep Gash on Right Thigh -- 8.0 damage]

glaive

[✨ zozo.]

i can feel the shifting in my bones
enclosed are senses so unknown
i've been changing, falling, fading
there's demons at the door patiently waiting

I am cradled by arms that carry me, drifting in and out of consciousness. My own hands stay wrapped around my throat and I concentrating on breathing - in, out, to the sound of Mickey's heartbeat.

Mickey-?

I slip.

And resurface, after a while.

"I can't-" he heaves, words hoarse and wheezing on his own exhaustion. "I can't carry anymore."

I know, I want to say.

"I can't..."

I know. It's okay.

He places me on the ground and I expect him to leave me there to die. Instead, he collapses next to me and slips into a sleep of his own. Sweat drips from his brow and in the moonlight I see a flush of red has blossomed underneath his skin, caked in dried blood and grime. His breath is hollow and heavy -- I wait for my body to panic at the sound but nothing happens. Instead I sit there, silent, noise all around me, and let the sounds of his presence wash over me.

"You don't have to be alone." Faline's words echo from days ago as I watch them both sleep, chests rising and falling in the mysterious neon glow of this place. I don't have to be alone. And I don't want to be alone, but it's what I deserve.

"We can do this together."

I want to nudge them awake and tell Mickey to go, to take Faline and find somewhere safe, but my voice has been lost in the clutches of death and I fear I'll never get it back.

Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe, without my words, I won't be so terrible. Maybe I have died and my voice has gone, taking all that is awful about me with it. I like the idea of that. A second chance to be better. To be wiser, kinder, to learn how to be all of those things. To learn how to listen again.

I trace a message on Mickey's palm with my finger, hoping that in sleep, it finds him some how.

Thank you.


Friend.

In the morning, the sunrise washes panic over me - light stretching across Mickey's frantic words and Faline's wide eyes. I don't have time to think before Mickey pulls me up and starts running again.

"Wynter, up!"

"No!" I whisper hoarsely, a hand at my throat. It hurts less to speak than it did the day before, so I try again, bold and defiant. "Down!"

He doesn't hear me so I throw myself from his embrace, pushing away at his chest with my palms until his arms collapse and I tumble to the ground - just for a moment - and am on my feet again. Groaning, I dust myself off and follow the other two into the woods. I don't know what we're running from but it can't be any good.

"What-?"

The noise answers my question and plants fear in every fibre of my being.

It's coming back.

I wince at the buzzing, a noise that could drown oneself in madness, and tighten the scarf around my neck. Turning back to look over my shoulder I see them, palm-sized mutts, wings blurring in the morning sun, light dazzling around us as it filters through the trees.

I turn back and Mickey's spear is pointed towards a stranger. I don't know the boy and I don't want to know him, so I grit my teeth and clutch my knife, holding it above my chest. Everything inside of me wants to protect myself and my allies -- it's a new feeling, strange and unusual -- but I feel that I must.

It's the right thing to do.

Mickey's spear flies forward but it's not towards the boy - it's toward one of the mutts. The other boy follows suit and it falls quickly to his blade, corpse squelching in the dirt below us as its buzzing ceases to a mere twitch of its wings. Faline lunges forward to the other and I copy her movements, wind picking up in the heat of the battle. She's braver than I'll ever be.

And she's not alone. We can do this together.

so please watch over me
and be the light to carry me
i wasn't composed of broken bones or demon limbs
this change is all so permanent

song: pvris

wynter attacks pixie wasp #2; knife
YOFcrCNCknife
miss

accuracy day 4
knife
deep gash 8 + 1 blades

knife�knife

[Stare]

ALICE & ADAM

'cause they will run you down, down 'til the dark
yes and they will run you down, down 'til you fall
and they will run you down, down 'til you go
yeah so you can't crawl no more

It falls in sheets, in whispers, tiny swords against unfurling wings. We never liked it, the way it weighs us down - brother and sister, practically two halves of the same body, hundreds of pieces of the same whole - but something calls and we must answer. We bear the droplets against our bodies and rise as one, always as one.

This is not -

There is something warmblooded near. We sense it, just as we always do. Even through the rain, we hear its heartbeat, sense the heat of its breath. Warmbloods distinguish themselves into individuals, but when we rouse them we see that they are only fooling themselves. They flee as a one, a swarm being chased by a swarm, tumbling through grass and bushes and trees green as emeralds. They are not fooled and neither are we, for this is not -

We're hungry. It is all consuming, a call that never ends. We're hungry and these warmbloods are food, and this is not - Food is not always easy to come by, especially for a swarm cursed by a hunger that can never be satisfied. We want them, these warmbloods, and it makes no difference to us if they are flailing wildly, as they do now, or still as stone.

This is not paradise, and we know it as well as them.

[Alice attacks Charlie Surber with teeth (knife)]

|1lC98QEknife

[deep gash on left thigh, 8]

[Adam attacks Faline Varley with teeth (knife)]

knife

[block, 0]



lyrics from Way Down We Go, by Kaleo

knife�knife

[dars]

you're casting light
making shadows in the dark
I wish you'd see it through mine
instead of using your own eyes

He pondered for a moment on what was to come— they couldn't run forever. He'd heard the buzzing, the overwhelming pulse of life and hunger and hatred, and he knew the swarm outnumbered them a hundred to one, even with the new boy fighting along side them. As last of the two bigger bugs fell, the swarm emerged from the surrounding brush like a cloud, a plague. And they were all there in the wide open, nowhere to hide, nowhere to run even if they had the time to try.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Flabbergasted and frozen, he watched as the swarm surrounded the new boy, as Faline swatted at them hopefully. How were the supposed to kill these things? There were so many, and they were so small. One of them darted toward him and he smacked it down with his free hand, only for it to rebound from the ground to return to its hungry hoard.

He did not want to die to these things, but he was faced with the overwhelming realization that it was a likely possibility all of them could die in a matter of what? Minutes? Seconds, even?

He couldn't protect them; he couldn't even protect himself, and he did not know how it had happened that the responsibility had fallen to him, but he had no experience being the responsible party. His entire life had been stumbling after Max while she called the shots, doing what his mother said and trying his best to stay out of trouble. Even that was often too much to ask of him, and yet there he was, chest heaving in panic because they were all going to die and he was supposed to have the answers.

All he could come up with trying to escape; "Kill the ones you can, but we have to move!" Was that good enough? Would the world blame him if they died? Would they grumble about their favorites dying because the oaf from Seven thought he knew what to do? Would they pity him for trying to escape an unavoidable death?

"We have to move now!" He swatted at them as they cam for him, feet too clumsy for the ridiculous amount of running he found himself doing. Three times, he nearly toppled over dead roots and holes in the ground, and as the swarm surrounded them more and more, it just got worse. The light was bathed in their bright colors, his hearing overtaken by the quick pace in which their wings flapped. His senses were of little to no use at that point, so he did not rely on them.

Instead, he just ran and hoped there weren't any cliffs nearby.

nothing will bring you down now
how can I be reserved?
you're casting light making
shadows in the dark

song: shadows in the dark

[mackenzie attacks Alice swarm; spear]
46Fk0t53spear
[3070 -- Shallow Cut on Back -- 4.0 damage]

spear

[Kire]

You can't fix your broken promise
Our ties have come undone

I cleave the thing in half. The last squeak from its tiny body is cut off with the stroke of my axe and I watch it fall to the ground with barely a sound. I stare at the boy in front of me for a second before hearing two more squeals and another terribly small sound of death. My eyes find the second small body at the feet of a severe looking girl. District 2. I know where she's from, but that is all I know about her. It's all I know about any of them, just numbers.

I have little time to think, even with my attackers dead, because new attackers flutter into the clearing. The butterflies that I had barely glimpsed earlier - the ones that had been pursuing my.. rescuers? - now came up on us. They stirred the grass beneath our feet and I could swear I heard a highpitched whining hum. Was this the sound of my doom?

Doom sunk its many teeth into my leg and I yelped.

The boy leaped into action, realizing sooner than I had that we were still in danger. These fluttering forms were worse than beauty, they were hungry and fanged. If we stood here too long we would be eaten alive. They had already started on me.

His slash took out a couple of the small bodies, slicing off wings of one or two. I watched small bodies fall with even more silent of a demise than the wasps. I felt like I owed these three, so even though my own foes were dead I could not leave them. Besides, I had been attacked by these flying menaces and so killing them would benefit me too. I felt like I had to help these others, as well as myself.

So I swung into the swarm.

Charlie attacks Nakom #1
ffOuPrhyaxe
Shallow Cut on Forehead -- 4.5 damage

I will not be used to be battered and abused
It's the reason why I choose to cut my losses

song: White Rabbit by Egypt Central

axe

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

Tell me which one is worse:
Living or dying first
Sleeping inside a hearse
I don't dream

This is my kingdom come —
they arrive on dark wings, a midnight storm,
and they hunger for a sweet destruction;
a thousand of my most loyal subjects.

( they should bow to their queen of rot )

The wasps fall dead before they can attack us, the worst of the buzzing silenced in a matter of minutes, but those creatures were hardly our main adversaries. They were simply a prologue. And now I want to close this book, I want to stop reading because I already know what happens next, but I'm featured in this chapter. I have to play my part and face my fears.

I soon realize that some terrors are beautiful — bright colours and a rush of wind. They enter the clearing and my hair rises around me, frozen in awe as two vibrant swarms circle us. My girlhood sings, a whistle in the distance, but it's just these monsters. It's the sound of their bodies colliding and acting as a machine. And I have to kill them. I have to grow up.

Mackenzie orders us to run, and it's no question who our leader is. We follow, more than aware of the fact that we can't kill them all, but it's still hopeless. We travel through the trees and they continue their journey, not ready to lose their prey, and they swoop down on me and the stranger — and I'm able to swing my glaive just enough to ward off their teeth.

He's not so lucky, but he's not my ally. I can't let myself feel sick, can't rush to his side and help him. We're all alone now, not even Mackenzie comes to protect me. He doesn't even bother to carry Wynter. Surviving is not loving and I realize that now. Surviving is escaping and that's what I plan to do. We can hold each other and bury each other when we're free. Maybe.

"You heard him!" I scream as loud as I can, raising my weapon above me and waving it through the air. "We have to get out!" But the uneasy feeling in my stomach warns me that there's nowhere for us to go, that they can chase us all through this arena and back to this forest. An endless death. When would it stop? I don't want to run for an eternity. I come to a halt and I stand my ground.

"Leave us alone!"

---

You say, "Come over baby
I think you're pretty"
I'm okay
I'm not your baby

song: you should see me in a crown

( faline attacks adam ; glaive )
lqFxayAsglaive
[Stabbed in Bicep -- 8.5 damage]

glaive

[✨ zozo.]

i can feel the shifting in my bones
enclosed are senses so unknown
i've been changing, falling, fading
there's demons at the door patiently waiting

Mickey and Faline scream commands as the beautiful, terrible things swarm around us. I'm reminded of my thoughts from days ago: that beautiful things can be deadly. One lashes out at the stranger among us and scarlet bleeds from a tear in his flesh.

At the sight of it, one hand raises instinctively to my throat - still aching, my pulse lives there and it howls scornfully in the place of my words. Only I can hear it, fear - cathartic chaos, it swims underneath my skin. I want to scream but I can't, so I just listen and obey.

I run. Useless, my voice lost, my strength dwindling on shaky legs. All I see is blurs of green and brown, a never-ending sea of trees and leaves and the ground below us. I miss the girl I used to be, powerful and proud -- even if she was terrible, she's gone now.

And I don't know what remains of her, Wynter Rochelle, maddening and full of rage. But I'm still here, whoever I am. I'm in her shell, hollow and full of echoes, left with nothing but silence. It's what I always wanted. Now I yearn for what I once had.

Funny, isn't it. How we crave what we don't have until it's in our shaking, bleeding hands.

I want to be safe again. I want us to be safe, just for a while.

So I lash out in fear, silver blade carving up the air around us, to take back what was once rightfully mine.

"Die."

A whisper. A roar. It sounds just the same to me.

so please watch over me
and be the light to carry me
i wasn't composed of broken bones or demon limbs
this change is all so permanent

song: pvris

wynter attacks adam; knife
sYo70GmNknife
shallow cut on chest - 4

knife

[Stare]

ALICE & ADAM

'cause they will run you down, down 'til the dark
yes and they will run you down, down 'til you fall
and they will run you down, down 'til you go
yeah so you can't crawl no more

Perhaps it is not so much that we do not know pain as we do not understand it. Something weakens. Pieces die, but they are insignificant to the whole. We are - we are -

The warmbloods distinguish the parts from the whole, and thus they feel the pain of death that is so unfeelable to us. They mourn, silly creatures, and when they do even their tears are warm. We, brother and sister, a million parts acting as two halves of one soul, do not cry. We are - we are - we are not warmbloods. We do not have their awkward limbs or delicate hearts or fragile flesh.

Perhaps we are - we are -

Hush.

Perhaps we are stronger for it.

For we are not driven by pain or fear of death, such an insignificant thing. We are not warmbloods, falling with our lost brethren as if we were the ones who were slaughtered. No, we are not weak. We are simply hungry, and they -

We are -

Hush.

They are food.

[Alice attacks Mackenzie Pryce with teeth (knife)]

FEQL|RjNknife

[shallow cut on right calf, 3.5]

[Adam attacks Wynter Rochelle with teeth (knife)]

knife

[stabbed in eye, 40]



lyrics from Way Down We Go, by Kaleo

knife�knife

[dars]

you're casting light
making shadows in the dark
I wish you'd see it through mine
instead of using your own eyes

Cannon fire.

He stumbled, blind, hands reaching for someone who was not there anymore. It was so hard to see, even harder to comprehend. He'd heard a single scream from Wynter, guttural and hopeless and then her silence was replaced by the swarm. The buzzing was maddening, made it hard to focus, and he knew the rest of them would follow. Faline, the new boy, him— seconds remained in their hourglasses and once the sand ran out, they'd be gone.

They would be four bodies waiting to be retrieved by the Capitol like Ike had been, lifted off the ground and taken away from this place.

She's dead, he thought, just like that. He knew he should have grieved and if by some miracle he survived, he would. He'd worked so hard to keep her heart beating, so hard to keep everyone who put faith in him alive, and with each signal of a cannon, he realized he was failing. Ike, and Wynter.

Faline would've been wise to run way from him and never turn back, because Mackenzie was no savior; he was an angel of death and anyone who came in contact with him sealed their own fate. He'd let two girls die on his watch, killed the girl from Eight with the very spear in his hands, and he should have been ashamed but—

There. Wasn't. Any. Time.

He could hate himself when he could hear himself think; he would grieve when he remembered how to feel.

Right now, there was only room for rage.

nothing will bring you down now
how can I be reserved?
you're casting light making
shadows in the dark

song: shadows in the dark

[Mackenzie attacks Alice swarm; spear]
|TWg_nhOspear
[3167 -- Shallow Cut on Cheek -- 3.5 damage]

spear

[Kire]

Charlie Surber

Oh shit that girl DIED. Butterflies really suck.

Charlie attacks Nakom #1
TonNW|CKaxe
Shallow Cut on Left Bicep -- 3.5 damage

axe

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

Tell me which one is worse:
Living or dying first
Sleeping inside a hearse
I don't dream

I can hear thunder —
but I feel no rain, no warmth.

A cannon sounds, my ribs crack open, and I falter for just a moment. I know that I should keep running, that every second counts, but panic takes hold of me and refuses to let go. The boy from Ten is still on the move, a figure darting through the trees, and Mackenzie's not far behind him. But our savior hesitates, a reaction that mirrors my own, and I watch as the both of us begin to fracture. Split down our chests, shattering our hearts.

This is not a place to mourn — but I can't imagine the agony that my ally is going through, grappling with the realisation that he's a failed protector. First Ike, now Wynter, and I'm crying again. That's all I have to offer. My tears, my fears; living inside my own head and watching as all I love drops dead. There's nothing I can do, there's nothing he can do, but the difference is that no one ever asked me to be their hero. It's not fair.

The weight of the world is a heavy burden, that much I know, but I'd give anything if I could share the task with Atlas. To tell him that he doesn't have to do this alone, for him to tell me that it's going to be okay. All of this. But I know that it won't be, that I'll continue being insecure and afraid and destructive; that even if I survive, no amount of years could ever heal me. I grit my teeth, trying to close the distance between us.

He doesn't have to carry me, he can set me free. I want to comfort him, I want to take all the pain, but the swarm rushes in and I have to accept that it's impossible. If he can't save us, then there's no chance for me. "Mackenzie—" I start, but it's just a whisper. I don't have it in me to scream. "I'm here." And then I'm not. Colours swallow me alive, a symphony of teeth, but I won't be eaten. I refuse to die this death.

Glaive at the ready, I glance over my shoulder. I can't see Wynter — I'm not sure if I could handle seeing her body — but this ache isn't just because of Mackenzie. I'm trying to focus on what I can fix. Maybe I can help him, but she's a lost cause. I can't bring her back. I couldn't save her. And I promised that we'd be a team, that we'd protect each other, but I'm a liar. And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. She should have slit my throat.

( I'll live for you.
The wind roars. I listen.

I know, I know.
I'll shut up and fight. )

---

You say, "Come over baby
I think you're pretty"
I'm okay
I'm not your baby

song: you should see me in a crown

( faline attacks adam ; glaive )
ceDlxMqrglaive
[Shallow Cut on Forehead -- 4.5 damage]

glaive

[Stare]

ALICE & ADAM

'cause they will run you down, down 'til the dark
yes and they will run you down, down 'til you fall
and they will run you down, down 'til you go
yeah so you can't crawl no more

The reek of a kill sends thrills through beating wings, and even the rain can't spoil this victory. Deep down, maybe, we know -

Food. It's a promise that ebbs at the hunger just enough that we don't notice, or maybe we pretend not to notice, the way more of our numbers fall. We do not fear death, for there will always be more to rise in our place. We are the ultimate conquerors, so strong even our makers and masters feared us.

- that we are driven more than just hunger. We are driven by the warmbloods.

The warmbloods made us, but now they fear us. They fear us because they know they've made the greatest mistake their kind could ever make.

They've created something greater than themselves.

And for us, triumph is not a question. We will devour, we will kill, we will eat, because unlike the warmbloods, we understand what it means to truly unite. We rise as -

- one.

[Alice attacks Charlie Surber with teeth (knife)]

wlkm8wN1knife

[miss, 0]

[Adam attacks Faline Varley with teeth (knife)]

knife

[miss, 0]



lyrics from Way Down We Go, by Kaleo

knife�knife

[dars]

you're casting light
making shadows in the dark
I wish you'd see it through mine
instead of using your own eyes

"Mackenzie—"

From the chaos of hellfire, an angel called his name. She was so naive to trust him, to call for him, couldn't she see that? Couldn't she understand that he was a fire, waiting to burn anything he came in contact? People like him were just consumers: takers. Destined to be the outstretched hand grabbing for something someone else was more deserving of. Ike deserved to live, to avenged her family's name. Wynter deserved to live, to prove that love did matter. And Faline—

"I'm here."

You shouldn't be.

Part of him considered taking the opportunity to disappear, one way or the other. Laying down and letting these things consume him so that maybe Faline could go on; sprinting blindly in one direction and never looking back.

She would hate him for it, surely. Maybe even enough to kill him if their paths crossed again. A flicker of a smile twitched up on one end of his mouth. Good. He had suspected his little mouse held the courage of a lion all along.

("I'm here.")

But shit. She was there, and it was so easy to let her be. There hadn't ever really been a question of where she would go; he could recall sitting in the hovercraft on his way into the arena. He questioned his allegiance to Ike, avoided eye contact with Wynter. He knew without a doubt, though, that Faline was more than just an ally.

She was a friend.

He did not deserve for her to be there though. He did not deserve any of this. Not to live, not to watch others die, not to die himself. None of them deserved this, though; that was sort of the point. Walking contradiction, hypocrisy with hazel eyes. He decided at last that he was not ready to say goodbye, and he was not ready to die.

"Don't stop fighting, Faline."

Because he did not want to give up on her, and he did not want her to give up on herself. Mackenzie may not have been able to save Wynter, but he had seen the obvious change in the blue of her eyes. So much less cold, so curious. She never spoke the words out loud but he never needed to hear them; he just needed to know she felt them, and as he laid beside her on the last night of her life, he felt what she wrote into the palm of his hand.

Thank you.


Friend.

He'd just smiled as he drifted into sleep next to her.

"We can still do this."

They had to do this. For themselves, for their families, and for Wynter.

nothing will bring you down now
how can I be reserved?
you're casting light making
shadows in the dark

song: shadows in the dark

[mackenzie attacks Alice, swarm 1; spear]
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[3153 -- Stabbed in Calf -- 8.5 damage]

spear